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The usual order of things dictated that you, Floyd, and Azul stayed together. It’s just what happened. When you were all younger, Floyd was obsessed with acronyms, and insisted on being called “F.A.J.” or “J.A.F” or something of the like. As you grew up, Azul met a boy named Idia, and Floyd went on about being called “ID.G.A.F”. You were, for some reason, “G”.
"It’s basically the same letter!” Floyd had argued. Azul had hit him with the daily paper and went on about idiotic he made Octavinelle look, but you didn’t mind all that much. After all, Floyd always got bored and moved on after a while. It wouldn’t kill you to be “G” for a while.
“It wouldn’t kill you to be vice-housewarden for a while,” Azul had joked. You didn’t enjoy being in positions of power; after all, how could you do what you liked if you were constantly looked at? But it’s Azul, and he’s your best friend so you do it.
When you were little, Azul was chubby. You and Floyd thought he was cute. But who would Azul be if he actually liked himself?
“Jade,” He ordered. He called you “Yah-d”, because that’s how you do it in the Coral Sea. "You like plants, right?”
“I do, most especially-”
“Jade, honey, I don’t care what you like the most. Just go find me something that will make me sick enough to vomit.”
You tilted your head, “For what reason?”
Azul rolled his eyes. He didn’t need glasses at the time. “What do you care? Just get them.”
Five years later, and this is your fault. He’s vomiting his guts out in the bathroom to stay skinny. Floyd is in the tub, high on some mushrooms you brought for him. He tried it once because he saw you doing it. You stopped and he can’t. You started this.
This is your fault.
You started all this and Azul is in the middle. Him and Floyd are the same- starting something and he never finishes. He ate 4 and ⅓ bites of his fried chicken you made him for lunch. No breakfast, and a singular bite of Floyd’s shrimp for dinner.
He doesn’t need the mushrooms anymore. He uses his fingers, and it’s enough.
He doesn’t need to say your name. You’re with him at all times. He’s always talking to you.
Until he isn’t. And he’s talking to “Sea Snake” as Floyd calls him more than he’s talking to his customers at the lounge.
More than he’s talking to you.
You see him in the halls, and he waves you over. “Jade.” Like “Yah-d”, instead of with a “J”. The way they said it back home.
You should call mama.
You started all this, and Floyd is at the end. He ran away about once a month when you were younger. Mama would sigh and call Azul’s mother, or the neighbors, or someone. Eventually, you all moved on land, and you thought he’d stop running.
Of course he didn’t.
Of course he kept running to be with the redhead, or the basketball boys, or god forbid, somewhere in your room, looking for where you hid your shrooms from him.
He used to never call your name, he was always with you. Who else would he talk to? No one else was half as interesting, except Azul, of course.
He calls you “Jah-aid” now, like everyone else does.
You need to call mama.
Azul is power hungry, sure. It’s just what he is. It’s all the new employees talk about with the anemones on their heads. As if it’s not their fault they’re here.
You tap Azul on the shoulder. “Why do you keep them if all they do is complain?”
Azul turns to you, with eyes just a shade redder than normal. “What does it matter? You can go do what you’d like with all these employees available to take your shift.”
He tries to turn away.
“Azul-”
“Jade, love, go run around in the forest or whatever it is you do.”
Love?
Love.
He calls you love.
He doesn’t mean it that way, it’s just what he does, but by God maybe that explains why you’re so desperate to fix him.
The day he overblots is the same day he ate all the chicken and potatoes and eggs and ramen you had made for yourself and Floyd, before throwing it up. Floyd was on the shrooms, in the tub, talking in tongues.
You were the one who caused this.
Azul is spewing ink, and blot, screaming. He does not know you. He does not care. He is not Azul anymore, but oh god, what you wouldn’t give to save him.
One of Floyd’s friends from the basketball team hits Azul hard enough to slam him into the museum walls. You scream.
Azul comes to in his human form, spitting up blood and vomit. He looks at you teary-eyed, and scared, like he did all those years ago, when they bullied him.
“Azul…” You whisper. You don’t ever want him to be scared again. You want to lay him in bed next to you, not to kiss, just to hold, just to hear his heart and know it beats for you.
He closes his eyes. Whispers, “Jade. I want Jamil. Please get him. Please. For me.”
It’s for him, and you caused this, so it’s the least you can do.
You lay in your mother’s lap. She does not know what happened, and you do not tell. How could you? Azul almost killed himself, and Floyd is probably gonna be next.
And you started this.
But you can always finish it. You take whatever pills you find and go to your favorite part of the forest. You’ll feed new mushrooms, a rabbit can nest in your ribs, and this time, whatever you cause will be good.
And no one will be there to see you foaming up and biting on the floor.
Floyd hums a new song he found on the radio. It’s a calm one. He wipes the salvia you choked out with one of your old henker chiefs.
Azul is wiping his own tears.
The light is dimmed down to be like the ones back home.
“Jade.” Floyd whispers, grinning. His eyes are blood shot from more than drugs.
"Yah-d” Like they did at home.
Azul cups your cheeks, then kisses your forehead. Floyd does it next.
"What…” You can barely move your mouth. “What happened?”
Floyd squeezes your hand. “We found ya on the floor, and ya had blood on your chest and drool on your chin and we thought an animal attacked you.”
“And then…” Azul swallows, his voice cracking, “We found the pill bottles."
You stare at the ceiling. Dim lights. Like home.
“Will you tell Mama?”
Floyd shakes his head, “Mama already knows.”
“Oh.”
Floyd suddenly buries himself in your neck. “Bad Jade. Don’t do that again.” Azul does the same on the other side of you, crying again.
For the first time since the year started, you smile.
And for right now, it’s enough.