Vanishing Act [Horus]

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse had suddenly seen the bright side to mandatory gym classes. It made outrunning aging psychiatrists easy.

At first, he’d just been running. Running to escape what he’d known was coming. (Really, he was a bit of a coward. But he would do Gabriel no good in lockdown, stripped of his powers and memories.) Now he was alone, he could think. He had to go to his dorm. He had to pack. It didn’t even matter who was up there. Whoever it was could keep his fat mouth shut long enough for the blond to escape.

He headed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. The faster he was now, the better his chances of escape actually were. He thudded against the door to the shared room, breathing hard and fumbling for his key. Once that was unlocked, he raced through the common area and unlocked his bedroom. He had to think. What did he need to take? Clothing was easily replaced. But his electronics, he wanted. Deciding to take pretty well anything he could touch in a hurry, he began stuffing things into his duffel bag. As long as he left no trace of MSAD behind, he’d be safe.

His bag was filling quickly, yet everywhere he looked, he saw traces of his connections to MSAD, to Gabriel. Notes taken for lessons most definitely not taught at Hammel. Books on guns, on other languages. They all got shoved in unceremoniously. It was difficult to be careful when your heart was hammering in your chest, and you didn’t know if you’d be caught at any moment. With a start, he realized he hadn’t yet heard back from Gabriel, either. If he was left on his own, he’d be fucked. Pulling another handful of papers and wires closer, he jammed them into the bag. It wouldn’t take much longer, so long as he was left uninterrupted.

[Horus Richmond]

"Where th'fuck d'ya think y'goin', Dickface?"

Horus stood in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest, eyes ever so faintly narrowed. He'd watched Jesse scramble to pack his junk in a bag, and just kept silent for the longest time, ire brewing under his skin. Jesse Adams was clearly in the shit. That fact alone let a lazy smirk rise up into his face, but it disappeared quickly. Ember. Ember had been a fucking wreck since Jesse screwed with her, and the blonde had quietly been biding his time, waiting for that very moment to sort the jerk out and show him that Horus Richmond doesn't take people messing with his friends.

He'd heard Jesse run in from his bedroom, where an unfinished letter to Elliot lay on the desk. He heard the scrambling, and had risen slowly, not from fatigue but from sheer concentration. Everything would get sorted out, he just had to bide his time.

Eventually the narco walked into Jesse's room and instantly stared at the items in his bag. Books? Weird books. All sorts of random crappy bits of paper too, but then, this was Jesse, and Jesse had a messed up sense of priorities anyway. Standing over him, the younger blonde let out a faint, soft snarl and jabbed Jesse with his foot.

"Y'know, I hope someone takes away all y'memories of y'sister." The words were provoking and unpleasant. Horus had reached boiling point, all the memories of Jesse being a jerk to him and his friends rushed to the surface, and he swung his fist back. The air rushed past his hand, then there was a dull thud, and a faint crack.

Horus had punched Jesse in the nose.

[Jesse Adams]

The second he heard the voice, Jesse stiffened.

Oh, he knew who it was. He’d recognize that lazy slur anywhere. The question was, how long had he been standing there? He twitched. “None of your fucking business, fatass.” He was unrestrained when he spoke to Horus. He knew from eavesdropping (his friends were not exactly quiet, or discreet), and his general knowledge of his roommate that he had body image issues. Latching onto that was his ticket to some real damage. Even in his panic, he was capable of being a jackass. He’d never been fond of Horus, and if he was going to play the goddamned white knight and defend his little buddy, well, Jesse would give as good as he got. (And maybe a little bit more.)

The blond was defensive, protective of his stuff when Horus walked in. Try as he might to hide it, there it was. Out in the open. He could only hope that the kid couldn’t put two and two together and link him to something far more sinister than an interest in... “extra curriculars.” That, and he didn’t read his notes.

The jab made Jesse shoot a dark glare Horus’s way. What he said made his dislike leap to hatred in an instant. He opened his mouth to respond with a scathing comment, but then something happened he hadn’t expected. A fist flying at his face. And fucking hell, didn’t it hurt?

“SONOFABITCH!” He’d heard the crack, and he felt the pain. His hands pressed to his face, and came away with blood. Oh god. Jesse kept one hand pressed to his face, the other fumbling with the zipper of his bag, which was then slung over his shoulder. For a moment he just stood, silent, over the younger blond. Then, despite his pain, despite the blood on his face, he managed a cruel smirk. “I’m not gonna kill you. I could, I so could. But I won’t. I’m just gonna tell you one thing.” He leaned closer, invading Horus’s space like Dr. Neville had been doing not so long ago. “I don’t know what the fuck your little boyfriend sees in you. You’re short and fat and annoying as hell. I bet he feels sorry for you. That’s the only reason I can think of for someone to be with a troll like you.” He leaned back, still angry at the fact his nose hurt like a bitch, but this seemed like a just revenge. “Go cry into a piece of cake, whale.”

It was with those cruel words that Jesse left the room, left Hammel, for good. He had a date with Gabriel. ... And probably a fucking doctor.

[Horus Richmond]

Horus stood there with his fist throbbing as Jesse's nose erupted in blood, his eyes narrowed, mouth shut tight in grim satisfaction.

What he hadn't counted for was Jesse's retaliation.

Every now and then, Jesse had laid jabs about his weight, and though they bothered him, it did nothing more than make sure he didn't take his clothes off in public. Or really in private either. But this was something else. The words gnawed in his ears like mosquitoes and he stiffened like a board, eyes widened. Every syllable stung harder than the last, and when the short blonde had unstuck himself, he realised Jesse was leaving.

"Hope y'fuckin' die Adams. You an' y'shit family." He choked out, grabbing the nearest item and hurling it at Jesse's retreating back. But the words were futile, and his mind was full of wasps that ached and vibrated when he walked. Somehow he found himself back in his room, and he stared at himself in the mirror. I bet he feels sorry for you.

Troll

Horus twitched, and lifted his hoodie to look at his stomach.

Whale

Barging into the bathroom, the sleepy blonde dryheaved into the toilet, clawing at his stomach as he did so, blinking back the waves of tears that roared up his throat and pooled behind his eyes. "Why 'm I so FUCKIN' DISGUSTING?" He shouted out, nails curling in his flesh as he doubled his efforts to throw up. Shuddering and spluttering, nothing but water and bile dribbled into the toilet, and, shaking, Horus lay down on the bathroom floor, stoicly staring at the wall.

It felt like hours passed before the blonde pulled himself up and sagged onto his bed, pulling the duvet up over his head and tugging his phone under with him. The screen burnt into his eyes as he silently tapped out a text and pinged it off.

I feel disgusting.