ALL THAT WE KNOW // EBEN

[jerome.]

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— it wasn’t easy being jerome hemingway. he felt almost ridiculous for thinking anything even remotely close to the statement. after all, he was the man who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, possibly possessing the easiest life compared to most in this new world of theirs. if that was the case, though, why did he wake up in the mornings and feel so painfully numb? each morning the man would roll over in bed and gaze at the door solemnly, something almost sad and painfully empty in usually expressive eyes as the world went on without him. each day came a lack of motivation to do anything, a bitter part of him convinced he wouldn’t amount to much in that day anyway. sometimes he laid in that bed for hours, if not the entire morning. simply lay there and listen to the sound of his heartbeat pound away in his ears. on the brink of deciding if he wanted to go about another day- pondering if he was even existing at all. such an empty life surely wasn’t a life at all.

he would eventually sit up on the edge of the bed, taking a long pause before slowly standing up. he looked so somber, sullen and morose features as he dragged his feet across the room, his head hanging low as if he didn’t have the strength to hold it high like he used to. the emptiness inside of him often felt painfully heavy.

this so-called “easy life” didn’t feel so easy anymore.

things were finally starting to look up, though. that was what he convinced himself of, at least. it was becoming easier to drag himself up and out of bed, to convince himself to eat, to tell himself that things were going to be okay someday. and, believe it or not, most days he found his only motivation was none other than eben viljoen. there was something that made him feel like his life had some sort of purpose as he stepped out of his room, coming out and seeing eben already up and ready for the day. sometimes jerome got himself out of bed and dressed solely to wish the man a warm good morning, hair a mess and appearance rather disheveled before he offered to make them both a cup of coffee. sitting down and idly smiling over a cup of coffee, a pleased and content smile always sure to find its way to his lips. acting as if he had it all because, in that moment, he did.

did eben even know how important his presence was to jerome? j didn’t think the man ever would know.

his presence was possibly unnecessary in eben’s own life, but if there was anything jerome was good for, at least it could be a cup of coffee. he sat at the table, just like the usual routine, gazing at eben over the usual cups of coffee. taking the last gulp of his own drink, he lowered his own empty cup down onto the tabletop, clearing his throat gently. he reached a hand forward to gently nudge his cup over towards eben, as if silently asking for the man to take the cup to the sink with him once he was done with his own. if anything else, it was also a subtle grab for attention, recognition, anything.

fingers tapped against the table, eyes slowly looking over towards eben as if waiting for the perfect moment to speak what was on his mind. each passing second felt unbearably drawn out. j turned his head to the side, swallowing hard and momentarily clenching his jaw. he glanced over towards eben, waiting until his friend stood up. if there was any such thing as a perfect time to bring it up, now was as good a time as any. he waited to speak until eben’s back was to him. “you know ellie?” cautious eyes wandered over towards eben, as if gauging his reaction, weighing his options carefully in that situation. when did he suddenly start walking on eggshells around the person he considered his favorite person in the world? more importantly, why did he feel the need to walk so carefully when he easily claimed the man was so near and dear to his heart?

huffing a breath, he shook his head and looked down at the table. folding his hands together on the tabletop, he leaned forward. “well. we’ve been talking for a while, getting to know each other, and-” he couldn’t help the smile that made its way to his lips, shaking his head as he further explained, “she’s kind, and bright. beautiful..”  he could evidently go on forever about the woman. he chose to bite his tongue, smiling gently to himself before he softly admitted it; “i really like her.”  he went quiet as he said it out loud, the first time he ever said the small confession aloud. he couldn’t bear to look towards eben as he said it, face feeling flushed from embarrassment.

“i want to know if she feels the same way as i do, but…” if the man could hardly explain this smoothly to his best friend, how would he even go about asking her? he huffed an awkward breath, finally flitting his gaze over towards eben as he said, “i don’t even know how to go about it.” swallowing hard, his embarrassed smile faded into a more solemn, almost pleading look. a silent plea for eben’s help. asking for eben’s advice without having the pride to tell the man exactly that out loud.

he didn’t know how far eben’s expertise on the topic went. all he knew was that eben knew just about everything. where jerome lacked, eben more than made up for. it had always been that way; why would this be any different?  j shifted his weight in his seat, lowering his gaze momentarily. “do i ask her on a date? should i? surely it's not that easy...” it was quite evident he didn’t know the first thing about romance. though if he needed to find a reason to get up and start living, this seemed like the best place to start. eyes stared over at eben eagerly, as if the man held all the answers and advice he could possibly need. though there was a bit of caution in that same stare, as if the very man who could so easily give him the world could just as easily take it all away. 

[truce.]

#607d7d[align=center][div style="width: 430px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 6pt; letter-spacing: 1.5px; word-spacing: 0px; line-height: 12px; color: #000"]Jerome was a solid part of Eben’s life. In fact, Eben felt defined by Jerome’s presence in his life. As if they were one. And, when it was good, it was great. When it was bad, Eben would break. He was a man seemingly so comfortable in his skin that it was the greatest surprise to realize just how sensitive and fragile he truly was. Dependent on the care of Jerome, despite it coming across the other way around, felt to be the very foundation of his existence. Without Jerome, Eben would truly be lost. In the most genuine meaning of the term, Eben quite simply could not live without Jerome.

If Jerome was no longer in Eben’s life, then Eben would have no more reason to live.

That burden ought to weigh incredibly heavy on Jerome’s shoulders. After all, Eben existed as his shadow. Always there. Always being. And, when things were good between the both of them, Eben felt as if he was on the top of the world. Every moment with Jerome was sheer bliss, the two of them the most perfect of duos. Eben idolized Jerome to the extreme. He was by far the greatest person that Eben had ever laid his eyes upon; nobody could even come close to the greatness of his best friend. When Eben was near Jerome, he was well and truly content. The world felt at ease when everything was in its right place.

His early morning starts were not unusual for Eben. He knew to make sure that he was pristine by the time Jerome arose in the morning, eager to be greeted with that warm smile and gentle conversation. As Jerome made their usual cup of coffee in the morning, Eben found himself sat at the kitchen table, fingers drumming on the table contently as he spoke thoughtfully about his plans for the day. Dominating the conversation, Eben would never think twice about Jerome’s quiet contemplation. In fact, he usually assumed that Jerome was simply listening intently to Eben’s words.

Not thinking about a woman.

The conversation died down as they settled into a comfortable silence. After the final sips of coffee, Jerome nudged his mug towards Eben, and Eben didn’t even need to be asked for him to eventually stand up and take both of their mugs to the sink.

Just as their rigid routine had it.

❝ You know Ellie? ❞ Eben faltered. That was a perfectly timed maneuver on Jerome’s part, wasn’t it? How sly and scheming of him to bring up this sore subject whilst Eben had evidently let his guard down just for J. Eben’s hesitation did not last for anymore than a moment, shoulders rising and falling again with a tense sigh as he went to place the mugs in the kitchen sink, the washbowl filled halfway with clear water. If anything, Eben felt hurt that Jerome had waited until Eben was walking away before mentioning such a topic. Jerome knew how uncomfortable this made Eben feel...

Eben was too afraid to lose his crutch.

He was silent as he listened to Jerome’s words, head low as he focused on washing the mugs in the sink. ❝ She’s kind, and bright. Beautiful... ❞ Did Jerome not realize how schoolboy of him this was? Some would say that true love would only come around once in a lifetime, but Eben had since learned that that was nothing but a lie. Jerome was falling down a very dark hole that he would never be able to climb out of again. This was some mindless attraction - Eben had always taken Jerome as a wiser man, but he supposed that he was gravely mistaken.

It sounded to Eben that Jerome wanted advice. From Eben. ❝ Jislaaik- ❞ Eben hissed gently beneath his breath, followed by a short huff of unamused laughter. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Thoughts began to spiral out of control, it began to feel like every breath he took was a knife in the chest. Or, a knife in the back. He shouldn’t have turned his back on Jerome; all he would do was abandon Eben in the end. And for what? Some pretty blonde woman with the personality of a fucking brick?

❝ I- ❞ Eben began, tipping the mugs upside down for them to drip dry before he turned to look towards Jerome, gaze aching with betrayal. In retrospective, it’d be clear to Eben that he was overreacting but, in this very moment, his self-doubt and anxiety was in overdrive, jaw clenched so tight that it was impossible to see the way his face twitched with an inexplicable feeling of sudden hatred for that fucking woman. That woman was dead to him, and he thought that Jerome knew better. He really did.

Maybe this was what Jerome wanted. Maybe he thought that Eben was some disposable good. If he began to date Ellie, then how could Eben fit into his life? Jerome couldn’t go hopping from person to person whenever he felt like it. Did Eben mean nothing to him anymore? His urge to breakdown there and then seemed to be overwhelmed by this feeling of loathing towards Jerome. How could he hurt Eben like this?

Was Eben really that worthless?

Jerome was only doing this to rub it in Eben’s face. Eben was good for absolutely nothing, even Jerome could toss him aside when he no longer needed him anymore. Jerome just didn’t care enough about Eben’s feelings - he never did. For fuck’s sake; Eben was so stupid for ever thinking otherwise. He swallowed hard as eyes searched Jerome’s love-struck features. Eben gave him everything. Why couldn’t he do the same for Eben? Was he really that unworthy of such care?

❝ Why? You have everything you could ever want right here. ❞ He gestured pathetically around the kitchen, shaking his head slowly with disbelief. ❝ Why do you need to go and date some woman who probably couldn’t care less about you? I don’t get it! ❞ He leaned back against the counter, throwing his hands up. ❝ It’s stupid, J. Completely, utterly pointless but- ❞ Voice cracked as he then spoke softer. As if he finally understood Jerome’s true intentions. ❝ I get it now. I do. ❞

He nodded his head slowly, face scrunched up with such hurt and distaste for the man sat in front of him. Such an explosive reaction to a question so innocent but, to Eben, his world was crashing around him and there was nothing that he could do to stop it. He felt helpless and frantic - he was about to lose Jerome forever. ❝ All you do is take. Take, take, take, and you don’t give a shit about what it takes for somebody to give you their whole world. So… fucking ungrateful. I should've known better. ❞

In that moment, it was as if Eben was ready to self-destruct. Everything that he so desperately tried to grasp onto would be the very thing that he'd destroy in his warpath.

[jerome.]

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— jerome felt empty. with that emptiness, parts of him felt simply broken, as if he was unable to genuinely connect to those parts of himself anymore. the worst part of it all was that he couldn’t put to words exactly why he felt that way. from the outside-in, it looked as if jerome had everything he could possibly need. he had his best friend who had been with him through it all in those last couple of years; he had a place to call home, full of all the basic necessities and then some. he ought to love this life he had; he was grateful. however, there was a part of him that felt like he wasn’t even part of his own life. he didn’t feel in control; he felt as if he was on the sidelines, watching his life go by.

he was empty, and so achingly exhausted. crushed by the weight of recent arguments, destructive and harmful words. held down by the very person who was supposed to lift him up. he felt painfully alone at times, even when eben was in the same room. eyes cautiously followed his friend, watching his reaction to the request. a horrible feeling pitted in his chest, rising in his throat. this wasn’t what he had wanted; it was too late to take it all back now.

“why? you have everything you could ever want right here.” he shouldn’t have expected eben to be supportive of this. he blinked and followed eben’s gesture of the room, gaze sweeping around the kitchen. the man felt reluctant to turn his gaze back onto eben. he felt utterly pathetic as eben dug into him the way he did, features twitching briefly in discomfort. ”it’s stupid, j. completely, utterly pointless but-“ he watched the man’s features turn ugly with distaste and loathing. the kind of look that could make anyone feel sick to their stomach to be on the receiving end of it.

usually that sick feeling would extinguish any fire he had within him. after so long of this torment, the fire in him often got put out, leaving him hopelessly cold and empty by the end of it. he never wanted to fight for his cause. the idea of troubling eben any more than he already had often riddled him with too much guilt to continue to try and speak his mind on the matter. he always considered his opinion to be lesser than eben’s, holding the other man’s judgment above his own. only recently did he start to think that his own beliefs held just as much merit to them, if not more so.

too many times did eben get to walk all over him, and jerome allowed it with a submissive demeanor, apologetic for whatever he had done to make eben feel that way. even if he didn’t particularly agree with the man, he only did it to make eben happy. why, now, was he starting to realize that eben didn’t ever try and return the same favor to him? why did jerome always have to get put down while eben stood above him, victorious? he didn’t even get eben’s support to try and pursue his own happiness. this argument felt different from the rest; the last straw that warranted such unfound anger. the sick feeling only ignited his frustration, an almost-foreign anger bubbling uncomfortably inside him, making his skin feel uncomfortably hot.

this argument wasn’t about ellie anymore.

he placed his hands down on the table, pushing himself up to his feet. “that’s enough!” he cut eben off abruptly, staring him down from across the kitchen. for a moment he could only stand there, huffing a few breaths through his nose. he felt wildly out of control, unable to contain his own emotions if he even wanted to. later on he’d probably feel sick for treating eben in such a way; in that moment, it felt painfully liberating.

he held a finger up to eben, features twisting. “you have no right, eben- no right to talk to me like that.” stepping out from his place behind the table as he talked, he dared to face eben with nothing between them. for always being told he was a coward, he felt incredibly brave in that moment. brows furrowed defiantly. he took a few brisk steps closer. “i have had it with you thinking you can always walk right over me! you think all i do is take? you’re wrong. you know what? you don’t know me at all if that’s all that you think of me.” a man who takes, not giving a shit about what it takes for somebody to give them their world? he stared into eben’s eyes and he felt that same sickness, wanting to regret the words that were coming out of his mouth, the more hurtful words that were sure to follow. he swallowed down the sickly feeling, saying tightly, “but i know you.”

he stalked closer to eben, a bit less than an arm’s length away. the closest he could get in this surge of defiance. he shifted his weight, voice accusatory. “you are a sick person, eben. a sick, twisted, hollow excuse for a human being!" his features twisted then, looking as if he could cry, as if he could continue on about even for even longer. his gaze was loathing as he added, "and an even worse friend.” his jaw clenched, gritting his teeth momentarily. his heart raced away in his chest, his heartbeat audible in his own ears. some of the words didn’t sit quite right with himself, his tongue feeling bitter with venom- but it was too late to stop now, wasn’t it?

“you can’t stand the idea of not being in control of everything around you, huh?” his jaw clenched. he stepped forward. “you like getting to just- push me around.” with the words, he put his hands to eben’s chest and roughly shoved eben back. “i’m not going to stand for it anymore! i’m tired of it! i’m tired of you.” his words dripped with venom.

“every moment i’m with you, you’re just pushing me around.” he put his hands on eben again, roughly shoving the man again as he spoke. he kept putting his hands to eben, pressing him further and further back. ”and pushing, and pushing, and-” no words could sum up his anger, not in this blind rage. he couldn’t get all of his words out in the way he wanted to, feeling rendered less eloquent than before in this fit of anger. though where words couldn’t possibly reach, he dared to take one hand, raise it, and--

he struck his hand against the side of eben’s face, hands lowering to his sides as he spat, ”i hate you!” he would later come to regret the words he said, contemplating if he even meant them at all. many things could come out in the spur of the moment, especially when a man so powerless suddenly found himself with the upper hand. later, he would regret everything he did that morning. in the moment, though, it felt so good to give eben a taste of his own medicine.

[truce.]

#607d7d[align=center][div style="width: 430px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 6pt; letter-spacing: 1.5px; word-spacing: 0px; line-height: 12px; color: #000"]Like all of these masks that had sat upon his face, Eben wore death equally as well. The blood lust of blind rage, the lack of heart, lack of vision - just a hunter and his gun. It was all he knew when his juvenile mind had been shaped by two hunters for parents. He’d grown so desensitized to the frantic screeching of a deer whose leg had been entrapped in a snare trap, the way it flailed around in agony as the trap tore flesh away from bone. He grew to enjoy the sound of pained pleas for help, the deer’s fight or flight senses kicking in as it desperately flung itself in all directions to free itself. But, once the hunter had that solid grip of its prey, there would be no one who could save the fearful buck. Only the hunter who’d slit its throat in victory.

Jerome was going to leave Eben, and the fear was quick to creep in. Eben was a difficult person to love, outspoken in his beliefs and oh-so-opinionated, but did that make him the monster Jerome would soon paint him to be? Jerome and Eben were inseparable because they were such opposites; Eben could freely express how he thought and Jerome would usually accept him for it. Not everybody had a heart like Jerome’s. That had been what Eben had assumed all this time but little did he know that Jerome would soon turn for the worse and reveal his true colors.

This had never been about Ellie. This was about a man losing control.

❝ That’s enough! ❞ Suddenly, Jerome was up on his feet, silencing the room with his voice so booming. So demanding. This wasn’t Jerome, his friend so soft-spoken and soft-hearted. Eben stilled with bewilderment, staring at his best friend with eyes so piercing and guarded. As if Jerome’s retaliation was a weapon to be used against Eben, he would do his very best to stand up to it. To defend himself. To destroy their fragile friendship. 

And now, a finger was jabbed in his direction. How fucking threatening - God, what had gotten into Jerome? However, whilst Jerome began to approach with those cruel, harsh words, he was not like a mighty bear that he wanted to be, causing any man to retreat with tears in their eyes. No - he was like a deer in fight or flight. He may be acting out, but he was already entrapped in a snare. The hunter had the upper hand here. Eben ground his teeth together as a sickening sensation rose from the pit of his stomach. All of this criticism; it was too excruciating to take. A sneer of contempt - of disgust - was slow to riddle his features, tug at his lip and wrinkle his skin up until he was ugly with a look of loathing. ❝ -You don’t know me at all if that’s all that you think of me. ❞ ❝ I don’t even- ❞ He tried to argue over Jerome, yet he was silenced by more accusations.

What the fuck was wrong with this man? Defensiveness to preserve his own ego was swiftly overwhelmed by revulsion. All of that faithful adoration for this sorry excuse of a man was extinguished in the hatred of a minute. God, Jerome was good at playing the game. A gentle-natured saint who was in dire need of somebody to save him. No; he was a self-righteous little asshole whose mouth could move a mile a minute. Eben was shocked that he could have so much to say with that silver spoon in his mouth, acting all high and mighty. Acting as if Eben was in the wrong for ever caring about him. He felt sick to his stomach as Jerome stalked closer, heart slamming wildly against his chest with an overwhelming feeling of betrayal.

After everything Eben did for him, sacrificed for him, and all Jerome could do was attack Eben for his unconditional love and kindness. Huh. Now Eben could see Jerome for what he was, and he felt stupid for not realizing sooner that Jerome’s love was toxic. He drew Eben in and only hurt him when he got too close. Abandoned him when he was no longer useful. Eben’s throat felt tight, and he was pretty sure that he could’ve started to cry if it weren’t for the anger which coursed through his veins, as hot as a raging fire. He blinked back his tears as he glared at Jerome. ❝ -A sick, twisted, hollow excuse for a human being! ❞

Was that all Jerome saw him as?

Maybe he was as worthless as he had feared.

Jaw was clenched, face twitching as Jerome continued ranting in his rage. Jerome thought that he was a bad person. A bad friend. A control freak. What if all of that was true? Eyes darted across Jerome’s face and, for a second there, Eben believed every damn word he said. Shoulders slumped. A friend would never be so cruel. In fact, Jerome was disgusting - a sicker, more twisted, more hollow excuse for a human being than Eben would ever be. All he did was leech onto people and feed on their compassion until it ran dry. He was manipulative and knew how to put on a bright and cheery mask. Nobody would suspect the sweet one to be the most dangerous.

And then, Jerome shoved Eben roughly, Eben’s eyes widening with surprise. ❝ Stop- ❞ Eben uttered, but Jerome didn’t stop with his provocation. Another shove, and another shove, followed by Eben’s warning, ❝ J, stop- stop- ❞ But he never stopped pushing, and pushing, and Eben’s blood felt like it was boiling. Skin felt on fire, heart slamming against his chest in the most sickening of ways. He huffed a sharp breath of frustration, his growing frustration and stress boiling over. Jerome was crossing the line, reaching that breaking point, and soon Eben would crack.

A hand was raised and suddenly Eben’s head twisted violently to the side, a stinging pain across his cheek. Did… Did Jerome just hit him? That second felt like a lifetime, Jerome’s hatred verbalized in the most heartbreaking of ways. He hated Eben... Well, the feeling was mutual. And, in all of the hurt, the stress, the heart wrenching anxiety and betrayal, Eben snapped. Without hesitation, he lunged at Jerome, tackling Jerome down to the ground with a reverberating thud. ❝ I said stop! ❞ Spit flew as Eben shouted in Jerome’s face, eyes set aflame by the blind rage that had taken over.

He was pushed to the point of no return, straddling either side of his best friend on the ground before suddenly his hands were constricting tight around Jerome’s throat. He throttled him without second thought, body shaking with an inexplicable wrath as he stared down at Jerome with those cold, icy eyes. Eben could have said something in retaliation - anything - but his mind was in overdrive, too overwhelmed by all emotions to utter even the slightest of words.

Instead, jaw clenched tight and features twitching with resentment, he began to thrust Jerome’s head back against the ground, again and again and again in a dark silence. All of his anger, all of his hurt, so tight around Jerome’s throat. Maybe he didn’t want his best friend to die, but then why was he hurting him? All rational thinking had gone, replaced by a complete loss of control.

He loved Jerome Hemingway so much that he’d commit murder for him, even if it was his own.

[jerome.]

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— it was hard to discern if this sudden, distasteful burst of emotion from j was because of stress, anxiety, or outright stupidity. jerome couldn’t even bring himself to think - and that loss of calm, rational decision-making made for a dangerous and reckless nature that was quite unlike jerome. his skin felt hot and burning, his blood boiling with uncontrollable frustration. there were easier ways to go about this. and of course he would later come to regret every word he said that morning, eyes welling up with shameful and guilty tears at the thought of it alone. however no one, not even jerome, could go into this conversation knowing how sour it could turn. hardly anyone would understand the things jerome said or did that morning. however, if they felt as trapped as jerome did, maybe they would’ve understood.

he was trapped, the ruthless claws of the snare digging into him and piercing his skin. unwilling to let go and liberate him. the crushing pain rendered him unable to stand up on his own feet. the closer eben got to him at first, j originally claimed him to be the man that was there to free him. if that was the case, though, then why did he still feel that trap around his ankle? why did he still feel weighed down and imprisoned by the weight of it all? jerome often couldn’t tell whether eben was his savior or his demise. the more he stood there, though, the more he began to realize that eben was always the latter.

how good it felt, to suddenly be the one giving the hunter a run for his money. there was something oddly enjoyable in the way eben’s jaw clenched with frustration, nostrils flaring. eyes widening once jerome finally started to push back. stop? he wasn’t going to stop. after all this time, all these years, he was done with being told what to do. he felt determined to make this the last argument they would have. in his blind satisfaction and anger, he felt certain that this would be where things changed for the better. they could go back to being how they once used to be. eben could still be his hero even after all of this heartbreak; it just took jerome pushing and pushing to get it all back.

at the end of the day, though, the hunter was still the hunter. no matter how much jerome pushed and pushed, he was still the one with the trap around his ankle.

after he said those painful three words, jerome wished he could say that time stopped or slowed. the kind of moment where he could live in the moment, have a brief moment of clarity. though everything felt like a blur, the adrenaline making his brain go fuzzy in an unfamiliar and foreign way. his heart pounded so loud he could hear it in his ears, desperate to escape the cage it found itself locked in all these years. eyes felt wet. lips parted and gasped for breath as if all those words had winded him -- or because he was trying to will himself not to cry. perhaps he did have that moment of clarity, in that brief second he had to think. perhaps he did, but he didn’t like the guilt and shame he felt. after how terrible eben could be to him without any guilt, why did jerome feel such remorse for treating him this way?

before he could bring himself to confront his anger and newfound guilt, eben lunged at him. jerome didn’t have the time to react for he fell onto his back, the force knocking the air out of his lungs. “i said stop!” words shouted in his face, those eyes cold but still setting jerome’s skin sickly on fire. eyes widened briefly, gasping for breaths. for but only a moment, he felt frozen. he started to regret everything he did to push eben to this point, to make him so upset. this was all his fault and he hated that he knew it.

it was too late to stop now. brows furrowed and eyes narrowed as he started to thrash underneath eben. a frustrated whine passed his lips through clenched teeth. “get off of me!” this time, his voice wasn’t laced completely anger like it was before. something else took its place as he started to squirm. panic. he flailed underneath eben’s weight. eben straddled him, holding him down. “get away from-” words were quick to become lumps in his throat, strangled down. it took a moment for him to realize that eben’s hands were tight around his throat. suffocating him.

as hands tightened around his neck, j momentarily stopped in his squirming out of pure shock, an uncomfortable, ugly choking sound fell from his lips instead, hands instinctively grabbing at eben’s wrists. nails dug tightly into skin, eyes watering from the pressure on his throat - and the sight of eben’s cold, cold eyes staring down at him. the first painful thrust of his head onto the ground, his eyes closed momentarily. they opened to find his gaze on the ceiling. perhaps it was better that way; he couldn’t bear to see that look in eben’s gaze any longer.

his head thrusted back against the cold ground, eyes slowly rolling back into his head, eyes slowly closing. he wished he could think rationally about this. he wished he would’ve been able to think more clearly in this situation. instead, the panic set in his chest made that anger and desperation return. a bitter taste rose in his throat. his feeble attempts to free himself became weaker and weaker. for a moment he started to try and convince himself that eben would let go any time, soon. once jerome learned his lesson, he would let go. that was how it always went, right? jerome would push, eben would push back harder and then ease up.

writhing on the floor in agony, he parted his lips to desperately try and breathe. bring air in to extinguish the rising flame in his lungs. the choking sounds that kept passing his lips in the dark silence were ugly, humiliating for a man who so often held himself so highly put together. as his head was sent back against the ground one last time, the flame in his chest spread through all of his body in a split second. then, his grip around eben’s wrists suddenly loosened, body going limp under eben’s weight. all the fire left in one weak, last exhale. then, everything went cold.

[truce.]

#607d7d[align=center][div style="width: 430px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 6pt; letter-spacing: 1.5px; word-spacing: 0px; line-height: 12px; color: #000"]Jerome didn’t stand a chance.

Hands were so tight around Jerome’s neck that Eben felt as if his trachea would cave into the pressure with a sickening crunch. Maybe it was what Eben wanted, that stomach-churning sound, the feeling of cartilage fracturing under his weight, that ultimate power and control over the man he felt he couldn’t restrain anymore. It was such a dangerous thing to need somebody so badly that their criticism could break him. Yet, in all actuality, Eben wished that he could have maintained control over his own impulses - this total loss of control - but Jerome should have known better. He should have known better that Eben was a volatile and sensitive man.

It had been Jerome’s own fault.

Instead, Eben stood over him like death itself with rigid control over Jerome’s next breath, or lack thereof. He was seething in the moment, and perhaps he didn’t want Jerome to die but he certainly wanted him to hurt. After he hurt Eben this much, who could blame him? However, what was worse? Dying by the hands of the man you thought you could trust, or surviving with the fear of knowing what he was truly capable of?

At that very moment, Eben’s mind was in overdrive; he wasn't even sure anymore.

Jerome’s eyes sprung open wide, lips parted as if he was screaming for help - yet he made no sound. Whilst he had conflicting feelings, Eben could not come to admit to himself that he liked how this felt. All of this power in his hands, that terror in Jerome’s beautiful blues. He thrashed beneath Eben’s weight but it would be to no avail when all Eben saw was red. Jerome tried to talk in a strangled panic, but nothing would snap Eben out of his rage now. He’d take things too far - he always did - and Jerome would undoubtedly pay the price for it. Features scrunched up with frustration, Jerome’s words only urging Eben to tighten his grip.

And then, he let out a cry. Everything within him felt as if it was shattering. If Jerome wanted to abandon him, then it had to be by Eben’s own hand. No running away to live a happily ever after with that bitch. Jerome’s world had to begin and end with Eben. Tears welled up in Eben’s eyes as Jerome eventually stopped his wild thrashing, instead clawing at Eben’s wrists as if this would pry his hands away. The first thrust of his head against the cold ground, and then another. Eben let out an ugly, choked out sob, a pained grunt emitting from the back of his throat.

Nothing made sense anymore apart from all of the hurt. Jerome’s vacant eyes turned to stare at the ceiling, Eben’s torso contorting with choking cries as he wailed, ❝ Look at me! ❞ Instead, Jerome’s eyes sank shut, face reddened as he choked feebly. No - Eben needed this moment to understand his hurt. Eben wanted time to stop in that moment. He wanted to have time to think. He wanted to relish in this moment of taking back control, but instead he felt nothing but anguish. No release of anger or feelings of betrayal that he’d originally hoped. Instead, all he had to realize was that he felt hurt beyond any recognition or comprehension.

He wanted time to freeze, staring down wide-eyed with those hollow, tear stained eyes like glass. Fragile. Broken. Harmful. He wanted everything to stop. He wanted Jerome to stop.

Not stop breathing, but stop leaving.

He wanted him to stay. He wanted him to look over his shoulder at Eben right where he was and realize that all he could ever need was right here with Eben, in their lackluster home with their lackluster life. He wanted Jerome to stay. He wanted Jerome to look at him because once he was gone, there could be no turning back.

Once he left, he could never have not gone. He could never have not broken Eben's soul.

Did Eben not realize that it was already too late?

Jerome went limp, arms sliding down to the ground as he stopped writhing with hysteria. Eben hadn’t realized that he’d grown silent, impassive, as if his very own soul had left his body moments before. That rage had dissipated in those last moments, instead replaced by a numbing emptiness, the severing of the mind from the body.

Did he just murder Jerome?

All of that rage was extinguished by the snap of reality returning, fingertips twitching as Eben slowly removed his hands from Jerome’s throat. The marks across the skin, ugly reminders of what Eben had just done, and with eyes darting across Jerome’s lifeless corpse and breath shuddering, he realized that his fears had been nothing more than a self-fulfilling prophecy. He didn’t want Jerome to leave, and so he killed him. Eben had still just lost the only meaning to his pathetic excuse of a life.

❝ No, no, no, no- ❞ Eben whimpered, his touch far softer now as he nudged Jerome’s shoulder. No sign of life. His breath quickened, uncontrolled and hysterical as he hyperventilated, head shaking rigidly as he searched Jerome’s face. ❝ J? J?! Fuck! ❞ He hunched his shoulders, head hanging low as closed fists began to slam against his forehead. Over, and over, and over again. What had he done? ❝ Dammit, dammit! ❞ He choked out in panic, lines of drool and mucus stringing down his face from where he failed to clean himself in that moment of horror.

He slid off of Jerome’s torso, body rocking from the tears that were uncontrollable. He wished that he’d been the one who had died. He wished that he was dead. This pain was blinding as his head swirled with horror. He’d killed Jerome. He’d killed his soulmate. His best friend. His reason for life. Head twisted violently to the side as he retched in his ugly panic, gasping for breaths as if he couldn’t breathe.

Jerome couldn’t breathe, and that had been Eben’s fault.

All Eben did was destroy himself and then wonder why he was this way. It was pathetic.

Eben leaned over Jerome, two fingers against his wrist to feel for a pulse, cheek close to Jerome’s lips to feel for any sign of breathing.

Wait. Wait - he was alive.

Red eyes widened frantically, lifting his head to look around the kitchen. His next fear was that his lapse in judgement would be met with disgust and contempt from others. No one could find out about this. Stumbling up onto his feet like a disorientated fawn, he stared down at Jerome with whimpering breaths, chest heaving before he leaned down to grab Jerome’s wrists. He tried to drag him across the ground. Maybe he could get him to the couch, make it look like he was sound asleep. Would that qualm Eben’s guilty conscience?

Jerome’s hands slipped from Eben’s grip, his dead weight too much for the emotionally weak Eben to carry along the floor then. Eben sobbed in his panic, grabbing fistfuls of his own hair as he tugged harshly. He deserved the hurt more than Jerome ever did. In a sense, it’d been Eben who had ruined himself. But, he could never accept that this had been his fault. It had to have been Jerome’s for ever provoking him. But, in reality, Eben did this to himself.

He was a monster.

And, as he spluttered hideous sobs, the horrified expression on his face was as if he was no longer sure he was supposed to be here on earth.

---

Back pressed against the cold kitchen wall, and Eben’s panic exhausted him into a near catatonic state. Bloodshot eyes felt like sandpaper with every slow blink, lips parted as he slowly allowed his lungs his rise and fall as he stared at his lifeless friend on the floor. He’d brought through a pillow and blanket at one point, carefully tucking it beneath the skull he’d been slamming against the cold ground earlier. He draped the blanket delicately over the body he’d battered and bruised previously in his anger. Eben cared about Jerome, after all. He always did.

He wished that he could protect Jerome from everything in this cruel world. From all of the danger of nature itself, the cruelty of inhuman people and the realities of love. Ellie would ruin sweet Jerome. Eben needed him to know that. None of this was meant with ill intent. Eben only feared that he would never be good enough for Jerome. Insecurities riddled with soul like maggots in live flesh. It ate away at him constantly, creating holes in his soul.

Eyelids twitched, and then slowly opened, Eben’s breath hitching in the back of his throat as he finally saw movement from Jerome. As if life was slowly returning to him. That life was no longer Eben’s to have taken. Crawling over carefully on his hands and knees, Eben stopped beside Jerome’s head before sitting cross legged beside him. ❝ J? ❞ Words were meek as he squeaked, jaw wobbling as he stared down with concern. And then, tears began to pool in his eyes again, choked up as he uttered, ❝ I’m sorry, J. I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me. I’m going to die- ❞ Tears ran down his cheeks, hand resting on the top of Jerome’s head.

And, despite being the man who had harmed Jerome, he barely offered help. Instead, he simply cried as Jerome began to gain consciousness again. ❝ I’m going to die if you leave me. Please. ❞

[jerome.]

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— at the start of a young age, jerome had been shielded from most harms the new world had to offer. shut into a house that had very little to offer a growing mind except for books, a formal education, he grew out of the house rather quickly. though as much as he seemed to have outgrown the four walls, his parents still insisted on keeping him confined to their estate. for many years he struggled to see the reasoning. if the city truly was such a vile and gruesome thing, why then was it jerome - the young, innocent boy - being kept in his own prison? why must his innocence be maintained rather than hold the city accountable for its own actions?

by the time his home had been destroyed, his parents gone among the ashes, he felt guilty for the relief that had initially flooded over him. although traumatized and helpless, he thought it was better to be traumatized and set free than to be undamaged and confined between those walls any longer. though if he had known while wandering outside of the broken city that all of this hurt waited for him down the long and winding road, would he have felt that same initial relief? if he had known those beautiful ghostly blues that first greeted him would ultimately be the last thing he saw, his hands tight around his throat, would he have still done it all the same if he had the choice?

no matter what he did, it seemed that j was never quite truly happy. was that anyone else’s fault but his own? whether he had a safe home to protect himself from the danger, or a dear friend to keep him guarded, that never seemed to be enough for him. his heart always yearned for so much more than anyone or any place could offer him; he was breaking his own heart. breaking himself. if he had known the hurt that was waiting for him-- his throat felt tight as he slowly regained his consciousness, limbs slow to move. for the first time in a long, long time, jerome’s heart ached for his old home.

he shortly groaned as he began to stir, brows furrowing stubbornly as if he wished to stay in his uneasy slumber. as if he wasn’t mentally prepared to face the emotions his sleep had once guarded him from. from the edges of his mind, he could faintly hear eben talking to him - unable to catch much save for the man’s last sentence. ”i’m going to die if you leave me. please.” hands lifted against a weight, shifting a bit to realize that a blanket had been placed over him. eyes fluttered open; eben was the first thing his eyes focused on.

the silence was deafening. jerome could only stare up at eben, lips gently parted. for those first few moments, it felt tranquil while his mind worked to catch up to such a gruesome tragedy. his head leaned back against a soft pillow, covered comfortably in a blanket. eben’s teary eyes stared down at him so woefully that it almost physically pained him. he struggled to piece it all together at first; eben’s care for him felt overwhelming on its own.

it took a moment for him to realize everything that had happened; the gravity of it all eventually hitting him with a sick, crushing weight that he yearned for those initial sweet moments of being blissfully unaware. he felt foolish to think eben’s actions hadn’t been out of anything but sheer guilt. the memory of eben on top of him, hands tight around his throat as he squirmed helplessly beneath the person he never thought he would have to protect himself from felt burned into his mind. the person he always ran to became the person he so desperately wanted to run away from that very morning. eben was his protector, he always had been. but, just like that, eben had turned on him. and for what? the betrayal that burned nauseatingly in his chest made his lips twist downwards into a sad, distressed look.

eben almost killed him. every feature of his slowly started to contort into such a painful and sorrowful look, a broken sob passing his lips, eyes welling with tears. his hands went to his throat as if to cradle the painful ache with ever harsh breath and dry sob, shoulders shaking pathetically. just like that, the ever-composed, calm, collected man began to unwind as he drowned in his very own sorrow. his heart was broken; he was fearful and afraid. nothing could hold back the despair that came in waves.

he didn’t even seem like the same person in that moment. this wasn’t the jerome anyone truly knew. at this point j failed to grasp onto his posture. he struggled to hold onto his carefully-constructed composure; he looked like an absolute wreck. nothing like the jerome hemingway the world had come to know. he wanted to be angry with himself, hot tears stinging his eyes as he sniffled and cried. he wasn’t a man to come undone like this, to be so openly falling apart in front of someone else. he often chose to display his sadness behind closed doors, gently clasping a hand over his mouth to conceal the tears. though this side of him didn’t even feel like himself. something was missing. something was horribly broken inside him.

a part of him died that day; eben would never know just how much he hurt him.

an ugly cry passed his lips, curling up slightly from his spot on the floor. he slowly curled in on himself until his forehead touched eben’s knee. the closest hand went up to rest atop the same knee, as if quietly willing eben to stay there next to him. a lump formed in his throat. urging the very person that had hurt him to stay close in a moment of need… his jaw wobbled, squeezing his eyes shut as a pitiful sob spilled from his lips.

“i’m sorry,” it was the first thing he rasped, blurted out amid his uncontrollable sobs. his grip tightened around eben’s knee - as if those very fingers hadn’t dug into eben’s wrist for dear life only hours prior. he shook his head, breathing in a stuttering breath before he sputtered, voice cracking woefully, “i’m so sorry. it’s all my fault. it’s all my fault…”

it was an awful feeling. wanting to be consoled by the very same hands that had almost killed him. terrified of the idea that eben would never want to console him again after jerome had been so awful to him; after eben had been so terrible to him in return and left j feeling so horribly conflicted. though the longer he laid there on the floor, the more he began to realize how much it really was his fault. eben had only acted out of retaliation. he told jerome to stop; he told him and j still failed to listen. his dear friend had only been protecting himself during a quickly escalating situation.

he hated how quickly he tried to justify just why he deserved to be treated so horribly.

though he knew he couldn’t bear the idea of pointing the finger at eben, especially when the man seemed evidently guilty about it. no apology had spilled from his lips - not that j had heard at least - but, even if he didn’t end up apologizing, he at least cared. he cried, pleaded for him to still be alive. would someone so heartless go through the effort to put a pillow beneath his head and throw a blanket over him? wouldn’t a true monster have tried to get rid of all evidence? wouldn’t someone who was truly guilty have at least fled the scene? j felt so disoriented and pained, confused and conflicted - it was a horrible look for him that he didn’t wear well.

there was nothing pretty about the way he cried. as much as he often cared about his appearances, all semblance of his tidy and groomed image seemed thrown out the window. hair a mess, face contorted in a way that was painful to look at. a look so ugly, and yet it was the most genuine look he had worn in such a long while. he shook his head, a small cry escaping through gently gritted teeth. shoulders shaking and hands trembling, he urged desperately, “please, eben.. please. forgive me. i don’t know- what i’d do if-”

he broke into hysterics again, pathetically sniffling and trying to contain his woeful sobs. his throat ached. it hurt to breathe, let alone try and beg his friend for any sort of forgiveness. how could he ever seek forgiveness to a man he had been so horrible to? how could he ever plead for forgiveness from someone who had hurt him so deeply? he tried to console himself in those few moments, but he had little control over emotions he once could so effortlessly manage. he grew quiet, swallowing hard in an attempt to will away the lump that had settled in his throat. then, in a quiet whine he pleaded, voice crackling weakly, “please don’t hate me...” the very day he told eben that he hated him - words he knew he didn’t mean - he was begging the man not to hate him after he had been so cruel.

it was embarrassing. tears were hot with shame as they fell down his face. hadn’t he just this morning been facing eben as if he could possibly live without him? had he not been fighting so hard to break free from the shackles that held him down? jerome felt utterly humiliated. he had been foolish to think that he could’ve gotten away from this sort of treatment. the trap would forever ensnare him. he had been a fool to think that he wanted to get away from his dear friend. the man always had his best interest in mind; jerome would be utterly lost without him in his life.

his parents often shielded him from the danger of other places, trying to protect their son from a city they feared could ruin the hemingway’s way of life. if they had known that the real danger was in two eyes and a heartbeat - a dear friend, the one closest to j’s heart - would they have done better to protect his innocence from the grievous heartbreak? would they have taught him how to cope with the loss of his innocence, rather than try and keep it intact? those were questions he would simply never get to know. all he knew in that moment was how painful it felt as his innocence died and laid broken on the floor, collapsed among the wreckage that was now jerome hemingway.