Bones

Jamie’s hands grip the porcelain, knuckles white and dripping thick saliva and drying bits of vomit. His eyes are red, like he’s been crying, something he wishes his body could still muster the emotion for. His breaths are short and ragged, and his lungs are stretching and compressing trying to keep his body going.

The door isn’t locked, he doesn’t even bother anymore; but he knows Nick’s on the other side of it, dripping anger and disappointment and resentment because he got stuck with a defect. Of course, Nick’s never said one way or the other, but Jamie knows, in his screwed up little mind, he knows.

Their parents gave Nick the job of looking after him because they just couldn’t anymore. Sent them to Bristol, away from all the Nasties and triggery things back Home. Jamie doesn’t really care where he is, this could be Hell for all he knows, it sure as fuck feels like it. But Nick was ripped away from things, important things, like school, and slutting around with people from school, and partying, and fun.

Nick will never admit it, but Jamie knows. He also knows that it’s a possibility that he’s making up this resentment because the voices simply tell him to. But the voices have been there longer and they’re the ones that help him. Not Nick. Nick makes everything worse.