Chapter Text
JC walked into Erik’s hospital room, his mom leaning against the wall and falling asleep in a chair. They hated Erik’s guts still, though he nearly lost all of them a few hours earlier, but they had to make sure he was ok. The box of cookies in their hands felt heavier each second and watched as Lindsey’s face turned from relaxed to sour and spiteful- which they couldn’t blame her for. She snapped her book shut- well maybe not snapped, but JC knew that if she had the energy or means she would curse them into the ground.
Erik’s dark mullet spilled over a white hospital gown as an IV dripped into his arm, his horns slightly dirty and still sharp. He opened his amber eyes, a mix of relief and anxiety dancing in them. “Alright if you want to kill me, between the eyes or the jugular please and thank you.” He chuckled. The asshole had always turned life or death situations into a joke, it was something that had made juvie more bearable.
Part of JC sank, missing the good times where they and Erik had been thicker than thieves and done anything for each other; the other part mulled over the idea of finishing the job as their gun shifted in the inside pocket of their jean jacket. “Here.” They said, chucking the box at Erik, who clumsily caught it.
“Are these peanut butter chocolate chip cookies?” He asked, cracking open the box. Lindsey peered inside, her eyes widening with surprise and a small ‘ooo’ escaped her lips. She then looked up at JC, pursing her lips before sighing.
“I’m ok with you guys being friends.” Raising her hands, and a forced smile on her face. Erik looked to JC, some hope dancing in his eyes.
JC laughed, a harsh chuckle that they almost regretted immediately, not like they were going to let Erik know that. “Fuck no.” They paused, watching both of their faces twisting between confusion and slight offense; right, they had to calm down. “I don’t want you dead, but we are not friends, not after what you did. Cyrus may have forgiven you, but I haven’t. Consider yourself neither on my shit list or my good list.” They sighed, waving to Erik. “Have a good existence.”
“Thanks!” Erik said as they left the room, sounding genuine.
JC wanted to go back in, hug him, but their mind flashed back to his old apartment, him confessing to his part in Cyrus’ kidnapping. They couldn’t, they had let people back in their life after a betrayal one too many times to know it would lead to a bigger heartbreak.
They walked out of the hospital, the Minnesota air shifting between warm and cold as spring whipped through the air like a snake in water. Their hair brushed against their cheeks and they wanted to peel their skin off. The weight of the box was gone, but it had left an even larger weight in their soul that seeped into their bones like mold and made them want to curl up on the sidewalk and text Nicole to come get them.
The moldy weight crawled up their skull, poking around their head trying to get in. They knew what it was, but calling it anything else but what it was the only way they were getting on the bus and back home without crying.
The world blurred around them as they sat down at the bus stop, the mold growing and crushing their chest as they held back sobs that felt like they were going to get pushed out as it wrapped around their ribs and squeezed tighter by the minute. They forced their feet to move onto the bus and kept their hands tapping as they counted to people the bus passed.
JC could barely breath without crying as they hopped off the bus and forced themself not to run to their apartment, and the mold wiggled into their brain like a worm and squirmed around, digging into the fatty organ. They fumbled in their jean jacket for their keys as the elevator slowly raised up to the third floor. They stumbled out of the elevator, cursing themself for looking so out of it and glad to the god they didn’t believe in that no one else on the floor was watching them.
They ripped open their door and slammed it behind them, shedding their jean jacket and shoes before climbing on the small couch that squeaked under their weight as they pulled a soft blanket that Nicole had crocheted for them a few months earlier. It smelled like her and the rose candles that she had burned during the winter months while making it had baked itself into the yarn along with her smell.
They slowly relaxed, the softness of regression pulling over them like a weighted blanket as they stared at the remote on the coffee table in front of them. They whined, not wanting to move from the blanket, but forced their arm out of the cocoon to grab the remote. They clicked the tv on, watching as the dvd player whirred to life and the Muppet Show started playing. Nicole had gotten them that dvd for their birthday when they mentioned they wished they could watch the show since they used to like the movies.
Tears fell down their cheeks and they rubbed their face in the blanket. Erik was still sitting in the hospital and they had cursed at him. They wished he was there with them, sitting near them as assurance that no one could hurt them as they watched whatever Muppet movie that JC had picked out that night. Sometimes when they felt comfortable enough, they would let him hold them, nights they wished they had more of. The comfort soothed their little brain in a way that their older self hated. It was what made their relationship with regression so horrible, the hatred of being weak and useless as their brain regressed back to toddler age- or on the worst days, baby age. It was why they never kept anything for little space long, the inevitability that someone would find it.
Which was what happened with Erik.
They had let him crash at the small apartment they had managed to rent between being high and crime, and he found a small stash of kids toys they had under their bed looking for spare clothes. It had made them spiral and regress, making Erik an impromptu caregiver, but in the end he had become a more permanent figure.
JC sniffled watching as Kermit waved his arms widely, the volume low enough to hear if they paid attention but could be ignored. They liked Kermit and all the muppets, a piece of their childhood that they could never have. Not like PBS kids was bad, but their parents liked having the news on more than kid-friendly channels. They grabbed the collar of their shirt and started sucking on it, feeling more relaxed as they stared at the screen. Their brain felt like a soft mush, not in a bad way, but in the way that was pure peace and bliss a child would feel after their parents put them to bed after a good story.
One thing they really missed was Erik reading to them.
It was something strange that had happened when he had found out about their regression- which was even before they really knew what regression was. Erik had gone out of his way to find out why they acted like that, why it helped them destress in bouts of soberness and highs, and even helped them get settled into the concept of regressing to cope instead of drugs. It started with him reading to them. First it was chapter books he had snagged thinking they had cashed stuffed in them, but after a few weeks he had bought two kids books from a Goodwill. It helped keep them sober for longer than any other try after college, even recorded a few times he read so they could listen to the stories when they were alone.
They slowly pulled out their cracked phone, scrolling through it until they found the old video that was buried under dozens of selfies with him from years ago. They sniffled as they clicked on a video and set it in front of them. The camera was shaky as it showed the yellowing book pages with dulling colors. “This book is called The Little Engine that Could.”
JC groaned awake, rubbing their eyes. They smacked their phone, a twenty percent notification glaring at them before showing it was two in the morning. They sighed, rubbing away the sleepiness and urge to regress some more. The tv was stuck on the extras page and they slowly turned the tv off and dragged their body to their bed. They plugged in their phone before slipping into their sleep sweatpants and t-shirt and flopping onto their mattress. They stared at their phone, debating on putting on the video as their t-shirt found itself into their mouth. They groaned, putting the video back on as they slowly drifted off to sleep, feeling the weight lift off their shoulders.