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No sudden movements. No sudden movements. Jamil repeated to himself, lying awake and terrified on the floor of the tent.
He’d been holding his breath for so long he’d started to get dizzy– well, either it was that or the sheer magnitude of terror currently flooding his system. But he couldn't afford to pass out, because something was crawling on his face and being unconscious would leave him completely defenseless. The thought of whatever-it-was crawling into his mouth sent a violent shudder through him, which spooked the creature into jerking further up his cheek.
A pathetic, shrill whimper escaped his vocal cords, completely involuntary. Screwing his eyes shut, he thanked the Sevens that nobody else was awake to hear it.
Still, nobody being awake meant nobody here to help him, and his own body had betrayed him by completely rooting him to the spot.
Tears welled up behind his eyelids– seriously, he hadn't cried since elementary school, and a simple bug had him on the verge of a breakdown? For the sake of his dwindling pride, he swallowed hard and held it back, mind racing to find a solution.
“Sea Snake..?”
Fabric shifted, and the sleeping bag across from him unzipped. Great. He'd woken up Floyd. The last person he would ever want to see him like this. Fantastic.
His clubmate yawned. “Mrgh, I thought I heard a seagull squawking or somethin’.... but I guess it must've been you, hm~?”
Ah. So he had been heard. He would never live this down now.
Tentatively, Jamil peeked one eye open, vision straining in the dark. Floyd was sitting up, choppy hair sticking out at odd angles. He inched closer, groggy eyes lighting up in amusement. “Whoa, there's a huge bug on your face!”
Huge!? Jamil screamed internally, feeling sick. He must've flinched a bit too hard, because those skittering legs paced further upwards, climbing the bridge of his nose. Both his eyes shot open, and he could see it, dark antennae waving just inches away from his eyeballs. His ears started to ring, vision darkening at the edges…
Before something smacked across his face. Something shaped very much like a large palm.
He’d instinctively closed his eyes– opening them now, he saw Floyd staring down at him, with the remains of an insect splattered across his raised hand.
With dawning horror, he realised what the viscous, filmy stuff now creeping down his face was.
His stomach convulsed, and he retched. He jolted up, head spinning, nausea gripping him by the throat. Through his blurry, spotted vision, he saw Floyd’s eyes grow wide. “Hey, you'd better not puke in the tent!”
He reached his hand, still covered in bug juice, out towards him, and Jamil finally managed to scream, scrambling away. His breaths burst out of him quick and shallow, and his arms buckled under his weight. He heard some rustling outside the tent, and for a horrifying split second he thought it was another bug before Ace’s confused face peeked in.
“What's going on here– whoa.” he froze in the doorway, assessing the situation. Floyd sat kneeling on the floor with squashed insect remains all over his hand, and Jamil had pressed up right against his legs, shaking uncontrollably with more insect remains smeared across the bridge of his nose like some kind of messed-up sunscreen. It probably wasn't too hard to put two and two together.
“Did you seriously use your bare hand to kill a bug?”
“Eh, didn't have anythin’ else to hit it with.”
Jamil retched again, tasting bile on the back of his tongue. Ace swore under his breath and sprang into action, hooking his arms underneath his armpits and trying to drag him outside. He grunted, tugging at him with all his might. “Hey! Could use a little help here!”
“When I tried to touch him just now though, he freaked out.” Floyd frowned, having the audacity to even pout a little. As if the reason why wasn't completely obvious!
Ace thankfully spoke for Jamil, sounding as baffled as he felt. “That’s because you still have that bug smeared all over your hand!”
Floyd blinked, looking at his palm as if noticing it for the first time. “Oh yeah, right.” A lazy grin stretched across his face, and Jamil wanted so badly to just strangle him. Unfortunately, he was currently too busy trying not to puke up his guts.
Dewy grass prickled his back as Ace successfully hauled him outside– oh, the night sky looked nice.
He tried to focus on the twinkling stars overhead– maybe he could identify some constellations or something. He'd read about those once. Kalim got really into space for a bit, and his parents had bought him a professional-grade telescope and several astronomy books. He was the one who actually read them, though– Kalim had been far more interested in trying to find an alien spaceship, convinced he would make some extraterrestrial friends. Even at the time, he'd found it ridiculous.
Something small darted past in his field of vision, sending his previous train of thought completely off the rails.
He yelped and pushed himself away, shoulders raised, nails scrabbling in the dirt. Ace grabbed onto him before he fell face-first, saying something his panicked mind couldn't decipher. Two hands firmly grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “...snap out of it! Dude, breathe!”
Cold water splashed against his face.
He gasped, going completely still as it ran down his chin, soaking the front of his shirt.
He blinked droplets out of his eyes, realising, belatedly, that Ace had just summoned a burst of water magic to try and bring him to his senses. A small amount of magic without a magestone should be fine, but he was a freshman- and reckless to boot.
“D-don’t…. don't overdo it.” he wheezed between ragged gasps, clenching fistfuls of grass in a futile attempt to ground himself. With how feeble his voice was, Ace might not have even heard him.
Floyd walked up behind him, wiping his wet hands on his thighs– thank the Sevens he had finally washed them. He came to a stop behind Ace, tilting his head like a mildly curious puppy. “Maaan, I’ve never seen that face on Sea Snake before. Heh, he kinda looks like a fish flopping out of water.”
Ace snorted, stifling a laugh. Little shit. “Kinda, yeah… but still, you've gotta go get a towel or something, there's-” he stopped himself, staring at Jamil’s face. “Uhh, I-I mean, just go!”
“Don't wanna.” Floyd stated bluntly. “Besides, you got most of it off with that lil’ water spray, he can get the rest of it off himself.”
Jamil jerkily shook his head in an emphatic NO, hair clinging to his damp face. Being reminded of the bug guts still on him set off another wave of dry heaving, leaving him doubled over on the ground.
“Okay please don't throw up– can you at least get him some water?!”
“Ugh, fine, you don't gotta yell at me.”
Floyd stomped off, leaving him and Ace sitting there, alone.
His stomach had stopped trying to eject his dinner, but the nausea lingered; he still couldn't breathe properly and his entire body was drawn so tense it ached. Somehow, the commotion hadn't alerted anyone else. Their club’s campfire burned bright and warm a few feet away- Ace had been the one watching over it this time round.
Wait. This would mess with their shifts, wouldn't it? He'd woken up way too early, and his campfire watch duty would be next. He was in no state to fend off anything, even some simple wood fairies. And he'd be too exhausted the next morning to be of any use to the team. What a mess… and all because of a stupid bug.
Ace’s voice broke the silence with a long, weary sigh. “Seriously, I knew you were scared of bugs, but I didn't know it was this bad.”
He scratched the back of his head before plopping down cross-legged on the grass. “So like…what gives? Most bugs are completely harmless, and way smaller than you. You could squash them easy-peasy. Besides, I've seen you do things way more dangerous or scary without even breaking a sweat.”
Jamil gulped, trying to quench his dry throat. When was Floyd gonna be back with that water? Pulling whatever shreds of himself he could back together, he spoke. “I d-don't know…. can't… control it.” He took in a big, shuddering breath, sitting up a bit straighter. “Even if… I know it's i-irrational. It sucks.”
The campfire crackled softly beside them. Crickets chirped in the distance, but they sounded far enough away to not send him into another spiral. He raised his head to find Ace’s sharp gaze fixated on him, eyes sparking like embers in the firelight. His brow furrowed slightly, the corners of his mouth pinching downward. Scrutinizing him.
“...What?”
Ace flinched back a bit at his acknowledgement, before pulling out his classic smug grin. “Nothing. Your face is grossing me out more than usual, though.”
Jamil scoffed. “Fuck you.”
“Whatever. Now hold still.”
He inched closer, untying the jacket tied around his waist and slipping his hand into the sleeve like an oven mitt. With no gentleness or care whatsoever, he scrubbed the cloth hard across Jamil’s face. He winced. “Do you have to be so aggressive?”
“I'm just making sure I get all of it off you, jeez.” Ace dramatically rolled his eyes. “Screw me for being persistent.”
Once he was done, he leaned back, rubbing the sleeve off on the grass. “Eugh. Gonna have to wash this when we get back.” He squinted at the fabric before shrugging and tying the jacket back around his waist. “You're welcome, by the way.”
Footsteps approached, and something hit him hard in the chest. “Gotcha that water.” He glanced down, finding a bottle in his lap. Floyd loomed over the two of them with a sharp-toothed, bemused grin. “Oh hey, Crabby’s takin’ care of you.”
Ace glowered. “I am NOT.”
Floyd entirely ignored him, cooing, “Woooow~! I didn't know Crabby could be so considerate. Such a precious lil’ freshman, looking out for his elders.” He leaned over and pinched Ace’s cheek, and he almost turned as red as his hair.
“Shut up!” he swatted Floyd’s hand away, only to get his hair aggressively ruffled. “Ugh- hey, hands off!”
Jamil sat back, watching the two of them go at it like they often did during basketball practice. Even though he was usually the one keeping them in check, he had to admit their antics were nothing if not entertaining. At the moment, it was a welcome distraction from the phantom itches and crawls beneath his skin, the lingering paranoia even after the bug was long dead and gone.
He lifted the bottle Floyd had tossed at him to his lips, chugging down some cool, refreshing water. He also poured some out onto his hand and washed his face once again for good measure. The front of his hoodie was completely soaked and getting uncomfortably cold in the night air, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.
Getting bored of tormenting Ace, Floyd turned his attention elsewhere. “Soo, Sea Snake… feeling better?”
Tentatively, Jamil nodded, “...Yeah.” His heart still pounded in his ears, and he’d broken out in a cold sweat– but the uncontrollable shivering had mostly stopped. He didn't feel like throwing up anymore, either.
This didn't seem to be the answer Floyd wanted, though, judging by the disappointment on his face. “Man. I wanted to see you flop around a bit more.” His droopy eyes then squinted in a grin that made his blood run cold. “...maybe I should go squash another bug, hmm~?”
…
“Don't you DARE.”