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If Jay Merrick could be described in one word, many would settle on “special”. Maybe “unique” to sound more polite, or perhaps he was “odd” if you had no filter. But the consensus was the same, Jay Merrick was not normal.
It wasn’t like he didn’t try to be, in fact he tried so hard to fit in, he became even more off putting in his attempts at acting normal. There was always something off, something he couldn’t understand. He didn’t know what he was doing wrong, but the conversations never flowed, he never clicked with others, he never fit in. Always picked last, always left behind.
That was, until he met Alex.
Alex was quick minded, an eccentric conversationalist, a nerd in almost every sense of the word. And he was also Jay’s first real friend. Looking back at it now, they were pretty much destined to be friends, two loners who lacked conversational skills with most of the other student body. Of course the much more outgoing Alex Kralie would pick Jay Merrick to be his partner in crime.
Jay missed him more than anything.
He didn’t want to miss him, he wanted to hate him. He wanted, more than anything, to rip himself away from Alex and everything he had of him. He wanted to tear him away from his memory like the bullet he shot tore through his side, raw and angry and destructive. But he couldn’t, there was so much pain there that he couldn’t possibly infect himself further. Alex made him ache, made him teary eyed and an incomprehensible mess. Why did Alex have this power over him, months after his death?
Jay stirred on the couch, in the small apartment he shared with Tim. It’d been a few months since everything, since Jay had escaped death by an inch. Yet despite months having passed, Jay felt like he was still stuck, he was always in the moment Alex’s gun fired. It seemed all he could think about was Alex. He mourned him, he missed the Alex he once knew, that’s all he saw when that gun flashed. The round faced, cheerful Alex he had known back in college. But Jay also had begun to wonder, realize even, that Alex wasn’t ever good to him. And that stung more than any physical wound Alex could’ve ever inflicted on him. His own brain had fooled him, cherry picking the positive memories in carefully wrapped nostalgia, serving it to him on a silver platter for him to enjoy momentarily.
It began to gnaw away at Jay about a week after he left the hospital, he caught himself doing, what Alex would call, “quirks”. It wasn’t anything big, just something he got noticed doing and immediately scolded himself for. Tim had told him something, and Jay found himself repeating it to himself quietly. He hadn’t wanted to do it, he hadn’t even noticed he was until Tim asked him why he was mumbling to himself, and if he was okay. There was no malice in his question, just genuine concern. But Jay had immediately deflected, calling attention to something else, and he mentally made a note to not let himself slip again. Later that night, his mind circled back to it, repeating over and over again.
Alex would always point out when he did things like that, whether it be involuntary things like his “quirks”, or just things he did that seemed weird to others. Jay could never tell if it was out of annoyance, or if Alex just commented on it. But whatever the cause for it, it made Jay even more nervous about it than he already was. If Alex saw it, and was possibly even annoyed by it, what did other people think? Were other people also annoyed with him, or was it just Alex? Did people think he was “special”?
“Special”. Alex called him that a lot. That was what bothered Jay the most. He wasn’t special, he wasn’t different, or unique, or odd. He was normal. He was fine.
Alex would call him “special” quite a bit, now that he thought about it. Jay was a slow thinker, it could take him longer than normal to process something, he would take things too literally. It was embarrassing, it was foul, he hated being the last one to get a joke, or being left out of conversation because he genuinely couldn’t compute fast enough, or just saying things wrong. It frustrated Jay beyond words, why couldn’t he just communicate like everyone else? Why couldn’t his brain work like others? Jay would always flounder with his words, and Alex would always go, “Don’t worry, you’re not stupid. Just special.”
Special. What an awful thing to be. He was always special. His teachers called him special, his grandparents, his peers, his own mother, and now Alex. Jay was so tired of being special.
Jay found it was better to be quiet after a while, it was better to be quiet than to be special.
But when he was chosen to be Alex’s script supervisor, he had to speak, and for the most part it brought nothing but harsh words. Jay didn’t understand what he was doing wrong. Alex had chosen him for this role, and yet whenever he tried to do his job, Alex took it wrong. Jay knew he was blunt, he knew he could say things wrong, but this was the job Alex selected him to do. So why did he get so mean? Why did he get so defensive, so cruel? Jay eventually sucked it up, he just let him do whatever he wanted to. It didn’t matter to him, Jay told himself.
Jay sighed, shifting further into the couch as he tugged at his hoodie strings. Despite all of this, he still missed Alex. He really, really missed him. His memory, fragmented as it was, retained memories of him, both good and bad. And he remembered the care, because Alex did care. Alex cared about Jay, and Jay cared about him. It hurt Jay more to realize that Alex cared, that Alex had tried to be good. He had tried to be a good student, a good film maker, a good friend.
Grief rippled through Jay, violently crashing into him like a tidal wave. How dare Alex do this to him, how dare he miss Alex so much? How could he miss someone who hurt him, who changed him, who almost killed him? His body tightened as the grief tore through him, doubling over and folding in on himself. Jay wished he never met Alex at all, he wished he could reach into his brain and rip into the gray matter until he disposed of all of his memories of Alex Kralie. He felt so constricted, so wrong. Who would he be now if Alex hadn’t called him “special”, who would he be if he hadn’t learned to appease him?
Jay felt like he was drowning, he’d never see the sunshine again. He’d just be sinking, wallowing in grief as it pulled him down further into its murky depths. He was going to be stuck here forever. He would never feel the sun again.
And then, sunlight rippled through. Warm, bright, and bold, waving through the dark waves like a beacon. Jay swam to the surface, desperately needing air-
Jay tore open his eyes, trying and failing to blink away the distorted glaze of his tears. A hand was touching his shoulder, the other hovering just above his face. Tim was here, had he been here the whole time? Jay shook as he gasped for air, staring at Tim's face as he came into focus.
“Jay? Jay, can you hear me?” Tim asked, loud with panicked worry.
Jay sucked in a shaky, stubborn breath, nodding best he could. After his confirmation, Tim's other hand came up to Jay's own, removing it from the hard clutch Jay had on his side. The movement was gentle, yet firm, as he plucked Jay's hand away from his still healing wound. Jay hated the softness of it, the deliberate care and patience he had with the action, Jay had half a mind just to rip his hand away and bark at Tim for even giving him this concern. He felt the words bathe his tongue, waiting to be let out. But Jay also hated the sickness of guilt he felt at the idea of worrying Tim even further, or yelling at him when all he was trying to do was help.
Maybe a few months ago, he would’ve lashed out at Tim, all teeth and angry spitting words. But Tim had saved his life, he owed it to him to at least be kind.
He owed Tim a lot of things, really.
Through his shaking vocal cords, Jay warbled out, “Please- please don’t touch me.” It sounded weak, pathetic, a stupid request. And yet Tim obliged, eyes rounding softly and nodding as he released his hands from Jay's body and stepped back.
“What was uh- what was that about?” Tim asked, looking down at the floor before looking back up at Jay. Jay, in turn, looked down at the floor himself. It needed to be vacuumed.
Jay shook his head. “It’s nothing- don’t worry about it.” Tim's eyes bore into him. Jay's hand itched for something to do- he began picking at the loosened fibers of the couch. Something to keep his hands preoccupied.
“Well, I’m worried about it.” Tim said bluntly, “You just started having a melt down in the living room over what appears to be nothing. So yeah, I am a little worried.”
Jay huffed, scootching closer to the arm of the couch. He hoped he’d fall into the cushions, and he’d disappear in them forever. Anything to avoid the burning concern and confusion in Tim's expression right now.
Jay was silent, he hoped Tim would just drop it if he just didn’t respond. But Tim didn’t move, he didn’t rush him, he just stayed there, waiting for his roommate's answer. Jay swallowed thickly, picking at the couch even more.
After what felt like hours, Jay finally answered, breathing in harshly, the tear tracks now tacky against his face.
“I was thinking about Alex, okay?” He answered, frustration seeping into his voice. Tim stiffened at the mention of Alex, stalling in his own idle movements. His face shifted slightly, something that Jay couldn’t really pick out.
“Thinking about Alex?” Tim repeated, as if he couldn’t hear Jay.
Jay just nodded, letting out a trembling sigh. He went quiet again for a while, before continuing. “I miss him.”
Tim studied him for a moment, moving to speak and then cutting himself off. If Jay could guess what he was thinking, he would say he probably felt conflicted. Jay couldn’t blame him- he hadn’t known Alex like he had. Maybe that was for the better, that he hadn’t. They’d never been a good mix, from what Jay could remember they had butted heads a lot. He remembered Brian had to step in a few times to calm the tension, to smooth out everything.
Jay wondered if Tim felt the same way about Brian, was he as conflicted and mournful of Brian as he was with Alex? Brian had hurt Tim, not in the same way Alex had hurt Jay, but their situations were comparable to some degree. Brian stole his medication, induced him into seizures, tormented both of them for years. Who knows what really went on behind closed doors with Tim and Brian. But Jay did know that Brian had cared for Tim the way Alex had cared for Jay. Their relationships mirrored each other, no wonder he and Tim were destined to meet. They were some sort of survivors group for fucked up friendships.
He didn’t have to wonder for long, because it seemed Tim finally settled on, “I know how you feel.” And that was enough confirmation Jay needed.
Jay unfurled himself, looking back up at Tim. He looked soft, rough around the edges, but still so incredibly soft. His beard still hung onto his face, and his hair was long enough to almost drape over one of his eyes. Brown eyes stared back at him, something warm in them as they glittered in the soft light that trickled through the living room window behind Jay. Orange cast across the floor, Tim just far enough to be cast in its vibrant rays as they flooded in through the glass. The sun must be setting, had Jay spent the entire day on the couch? Had another day melted through his fingertips like sand?
Jay sniffled, trying to collect himself. “We’ll always miss them, won’t we?” Jay said, a harsh shaky inhale taking him off guard, “Even though we shouldn’t?”
Tim hummed, settling into a criss cross position on the carpet. “Whether we like it or not. They both were big parts of our lives. We couldn’t forget them even if we tried.” A sad attempt at a laugh passed through Tim, before a frown took over his face.
“Look, I don’t know what yours and Alex’s relationship was like, y’know before everything. But I’m sorry everything turned out the way that it did.”
Jay shook his head, trying to imagine a world where none of this happened. Where Alex never gave Jay those tapes, where he never moved, where he never tried to kill Brian, or Tim, or Jay. Would Jay have wanted to stay in that friendship? The one where he walked on eggshells? The one where all his flaws were put on display? One that pointed out his “quirks”, where he was nothing but “special”?
Jay set his hands on his lap, toying with his finger tips. “Don’t be.”
.
.
.
The morning that followed was quiet and surreal. Jay, for the first time in a long time, felt the determination to actually do something with his day. He still felt stuck, but knowing that Tim felt the same miserable way he did, yet he still trucked forward. It inspired him, of course he wouldn’t tell Tim that. The last thing he needed to know was that his actions actually influenced Jays. He’d never let that go. But, that morning Jay got up, forced himself to brush his teeth, begrudgingly took his medication, and forced himself to make a breakfast that wasn’t just half a granola bar.
Tim watched him with interest as Jay clumsily moved around the kitchen, clanking through uncluttered cabinets as he looked for… what was he looking for again? He looked back at the counter top, a lonely carton of eggs sat desolate on the chipped surface.
“Pans are in the lower cabinet.” Tim said from the living area, sipping on his morning coffee. Jay clicked his tongue in response.
And then it happened again. He repeated the words Tim had just said. Jay locked up, mortified as he paused himself. He waited for Tim to point it out, to ask why he was mimicking him, to say something.
But Tim didn’t, there was not one word from him. Jay watched him out of the corner of his eye, waiting for some kind of judgement, some kind of confusion over his action, something, anything.
But there was nothing. Not one peep, not one curious look.
“Right, uhm. Thanks.” Jay said after a beat. He tried to ignore the weird relief that roiled through him. How wonderful it was to not be questioned.
As Jay fixed together his breakfast, he wondered hopefully if he’d never be called special again.