Archive of Our Own

The first death was an accident.

The first death – 

He was heaving, his lungs trying to fight against the constrictions of his brutalized skin, trying to fight to expand against the punctures in his ribs. His throat burns, almost as much as his eyes. His throat burns from a night of screaming.

His eyes just burn .

– was an accident .

Fear was an insufficient label to the emotion, not when he felt something so wrong in the moment, not when he brushed off his own intuition in favor of carrying on his shift like nothing was wrong.

He swerved, his hand clutching the counter as the other flew to his head. His vision was spotty with… a migraine? 

But regret wasn’t of use to him: even if he had caught it, even if he knew , it would be too late. There would be nothing to prevent the endless cycle, the amount of dread to strike him after waking up in his bed, clothes torn and memories blurred and eskew. The bruises – god the bruises – painted his arms and legs, haunting him of deeds he had no recollection. 

What was worse was when there was blood. When he woke up in the woods, tattered and torn, and bloodied . 

It wasn’t his .

He threw up, but the stench of bile didn’t cover up the smell of blood that had already permeated his skin.

His hands wring his wrists, and almost felt the faint cusp of metal restraining them. He feels insane. He feels fucking insane as his grip on reality becomes it’s stranglehold on him. As seconds and minutes and hours dilute themselves when he looks at gaps in his mind and the gaps in the week as days pass him by.

He’s alone; he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Bringing it up to his father is laughable. The man wasn’t there for him when he was ‘normal’, grieving, but normal. He didn’t get involved with his own son’s idiocy until Tyler got on parole, and remains as uninvolved in his therapeutic process – in talking to him – unless it’s to pry into issues he’d be much more privy to talking about if his father had any ounce of vestment in spending time with him.

But of course, his father wouldn’t have answers for him. Or he wouldn’t have the right answers, wouldn’t have any frame of reference to help him in any way that would be meaningful, anything that would be enough.

So he suffers, agony in woeful, silent, solitude. 

“Are you alright son?” The fact that his dad actually comments on it is enough to signal how out of control it’s gotten. It snaps him out of his daze, cursory glance over to his father. “You look… pale.” 

That is as soft as Donovan Galpin will ever get.

“I’m fine.” His voice is hoarse, not from any strain on it but because he underestimates how much force it takes to produce words, and it comes out as a whisper.

His father looks at him. And he says nothing.

“I’d better get going.” The sheriff shrugs on his coat, snatching his keys in a harsh jangle. If he was looking at his son, he'd see the violent flinch the sound of metal caused him. But he doesn’t, already set halfway out the door, leaving his son in silence.

Decrepit silence. He heads to the cafe.

He will reiterate, even if he were conscious of it, there would be nothing he could do to change the outcome.

“Aren’t you excited?” The woman smiles, the way she did when he set down her order at her table, the one she did when he set down a scone she didn’t buy across from her, and apparently, the one she donned when holding a syringe in hand. “It’s your last dose.”

The ‘normie’ teacher. ( It , he thinks, was an open secret of the town and next to nowhere else, an openly disdained one.) She was openly balked at, openly mocked, pitied, offered condolences and insults, and still managed to keep her head up high despite that.

Tyler had admittedly admired her for that, for facing not just the prejudice of being the only human teacher in Nevermore but also dealing with the contempt of Jericho. She was kind, too, to her students and somehow extended that to him.

He needs to get better adult role models in his life.

He thrashes as a needle pierces his neck, chains rattling as the older ginger scoffs and holds still his neck and finishes injecting it.

“Face it, Tyler, dear.” His eyes have trouble focusing on her, even as her hand cups his face, they droop to the floor. “Giving in is inevitable.”

He thinks this might be the worst part, the worst part being that he had liked her. Trust was a stretch, though this was a significant breach of what little of it there was. 

So of course she turned out to be psychotic.

“It seems like you need a little more time to think on things.” She tsks, as if he has disappointed, as if disappointing her would be something to affect him. He would glare if he could but his eyes are lazy and his limbs ache from exertion. “Hopefully.” She sighs. “You’ll be much more agreeable tomorrow.”

He registers the fact that maybe his father would notice his absence, if this is over the course of multiple days, and maybe, just this once, does he wish for his father to come get him.

He falls asleep chained and construed against rocks, lulling himself against every bit of injury his body has undergone and passes out from exhaustion.

There is a lot to be delirious from, with the amount of pain he’d undergone and whatever number of drugs accompanying his bloodstream. His hobble is pitiful, the gash in his leg slowing him significantly and causing him to swear more often than not when he lands on it wrong.

He is praying Thornhill does not know of his escape. The only way he could get out was – the restraints snapped, finally having burst from the force – whatever that final dosage was intended for.

Is he even human anymore?

He’s not wearing shoes, ill advised in the woods, and wandering aimless without a clue of the directions it took to get here. It feels like everything– everything could be out to hurt him and in this instance–

He is prey.

He has no guarantee that the woman hasn’t caught onto his escape, and nowhere to go but a bloodied forward. He doesn’t even know if he does manage to escape this and get home what will happen after, if she’ll continue to hunt him to gain whatever it is she wants from him.

He tucks his arm under the other, gritting his teeth trying not to hiss on impact. Something feels broken, and he cradles it as such, wincing at the purpling of his fingers.

His head pounds with every step, feet passing instability as they trade off ground. His clothes are next to scrap and he’s so cold . It’s the cusp of summer’s end but blood loss is doing him in quite efficiently because his hands are pale and ashen and quivering.

There’s a lot to focus on internally, the way his ribs no longer match up, the way his dilapidated trudge highlights every ailment he’s undergoing currently, and his very underwhelming render distance, which means he misses the figure before him for a moment.

For a second he believes he’s hallucinating.

Then he reels back.

“ Tyler? ” Xavier asks, disbelief rampant. There’s a lot more concern in his eyes than someone like Tyler deserves, especially with their history. 

Though him drenched in his own blood might be cause for anyone’s concern.

He waivers, full bodily. He opens his mouth – for what? To cry? To scream? – no noise coming out of his throat accept– 

Blood splatters past his chapped lips, his shaky hand raising to his mouth fruitlessly. He wasn’t aware anything more horrific could settle into his bones but the violent hack of his throat – it burns, it burns, it burns – terrifies him before finally.

He collapses.

Right into the arms of Xavier Thorpe.

“Oh my god .” His voice is nothing but static, nothing but fuzz in his mind. But that’s not what he tries to focus on when flush against the outcast he’d ridiculed. In this moment who they are doesn’t matter, their pasts fall away. He is a warm body against his own chilled, a consistent pulse against his weak drum. He breathes, not in captivity and in a sigh against the man’s neck knowing nothing else, and not wanting to know anything else.

He was adrift, but in this instance, in his arms, he is anchored. 

Like many times before, prior having not anything aligned with his volition, he does not think. Not once does a thought go through his head.

As his teeth puncture Xavier’s neck.

Rattled was an understatement. There were a lot of things wrong with this situation, the detriment of Tyler’s state, the fact that he’s close to the ground of Nevermore, and the way his own spiraling mind stopped with a–

Crunch .

The way his green eyes were glazed over was the least of his concerns when he collapsed forward, the pace of his breathing close to hyperventilating. Xavier didn’t realize Tyler was calming himself down in his own panic until the head buried in the juncture of his neck bit down harsh enough to draw blood.

Tyler passed out.

The dull throb of blunt teeth – blunt, not a werewolf, not a vampire – is enough to startle him into action, the newly found adrenaline muting the mar on his skin. 

He’s hurt . The obvious, and then. What did this? Followed by. What is he trying to get away from?

They need to get out of here. Now.

A lot of grace is allowed to him, the unoccupied barn unofficially gifted to him and the ability to visit it if he keeps his head down and doesn’t stir up any trouble. He’s able to visit it late at night, typically reserving night time excursions for weekends and getting away with it though not getting caught and Weems being aware of the fact.

This does not extend to leaving campus, but extenuating circumstances – he hoists Tyler up and supports his body weight – and all that.

He thinks he’d get away with this one, helping a mutilated boy get medical assistance, the only thing they could flag him for is not going to an adult. But it does align with ‘keeping the peace’, the only goal that followed Weem’s fierce protection of Nevermore.

The woods were typically a place of solace and solitude, even in the quiet wisp of night, but currently – he looks down to Tyler, his shallow breathing up against his ear – there seems a lot to be weary of.

Their movement is slow going, unconsciousness exponentially a hindrance. 

He settles on trying to find the sheriff. It seems like the best course of action, given his connection to the law and more evidently, his son, and at the very least not anyone from Nevermore who Tyler would most likely be wary of.

He tries to blear out the look of fear that had been on Tyler’s face when he noticed him, but more gut wrenching, recognition swiftly followed by relief .

Xavier fears what the other had been through, to the point that someone he had detested had almost gave him elation.

“Come on.” He grunts for no particular reason as he adjusts his grip. “We’ll be,” there soon . This time he doesn’t waste his breath, just holds on tighter. Frustration and desperation push him faster, and he hopes anyone could get to them at this point.

Asphalt road lies before him.

“Okay.” He says to himself. “Okay.” He repeats. There is a very low chance there will be a car on the roads at this hour, but at least now he knows the way back to Jericho. 

A pained wheeze interrupts his thoughts, a shiver running through the other.

He fears setting Tyler down will give him more trouble when he has to lift him up again, getting him to rest upright on him in what’s essentially a hug. He won’t remember this anyway . Xavier sheds his blazer and wraps it around his shoulders, too conscious of the blood staining him now. He tucks Tyler into his side and keeps walking.

Night is a good cover. He trips over himself in haste when he spots the sheriff’s car, lights turned off and shaded by forestry.

“ SHERIFF! ” His father would call him undignified by the way he screams, the disgruntled form of his uniform and the absolute mess the rest of him appears. He would care too, shame for crying for someone to help him like a child, but he couldn't care less when the lights of the van turn on.

As quickly as the man scrambles out of his car Xavier limps to meet him, returning Tyler to the arms of his father.

“Oh my lord.” Is his quiet admission before his hands find his son’s hair and rest there. “Oh my–” Xavier never thought he’d see a man like the sheriff crumple, but something in his expression breaks as he embarrasses his kid.

He regains his composure quickly. “Come on.” He grits, not out of anger but stemming from choked up emotion. “Help me get him in the car.”

Xavier has nothing to do but oblige him.

He feels entirely out of his body as sits in the back, Tyler’s head on his lap as he’s laid out as much as he’s able. The drive is an hour or a minute. All he processes is being in motion, having Tyler laying on him, and then stopping.

They’re at the hospital and he is numb.

It’s when Tyler gets taken from him that he starts to panic. “Wait–” The boy was peeled from him slowly, but it felt too quick and too soon. “Wait, no–” He came to Xavier, he needed safety , they’re not safe yet, he can’t guarantee it, he can’t protect him if he’s out of sight–

“Calm down.” The sheriff is almost harsh. He grabs Xavier firmly. “Get a grip on yourself; he needs to see a doctor.”

Xavier nods, drained. It’s logical, after he takes a moment, but still grates on him. He’s still very close to freaking out fully, but right now he feels hollow. Pale skin harsh against drying irate blood stains.

It could be a second or any increment of minutes when a blanket gets draped over his lap.

A water bottle gets placed in his hands a second later.

“Drink.” The command is mindless enough to follow. He guesses out of everyone, Tyler’s dad would be one to know how to take care of someone’s physical needs after a traumatic event. “I called your principal, she’s aware of the situation.”

He looks down. The sheriff sits down next to him.

“Thank you.” It’s a hint of the emotional man from earlier, the barest amount of vulnerability. “Thank you for bringing my son back to me.”

Xavier’s hands clamp down on the blanket, a futile attempt to ground himself as his throat constricts and his eyes close. “Of course.” He says sincerely because he doesn’t know what else could be appropriate. “He–”

“He’s going to be fine.” The sheriff says, walls strait back up as he puts his hat back on. “A teacher should be coming by to pick you up.”

Xavier nods.

It takes 30 minutes, he spots a clock and keeps track of it, before there is someone to come get him. He doesn’t fault anyone for it, it’s late – or early – when he gets jolted from a tap on his shoulder.

He thinks he could melt when he sees Coach Vlad. 

He doesn’t say anything, too tired himself, but his arm wraps around Xavier’s shoulders in a notion more comforting than he could fathom. He finds himself sagging, but Coach Vlad is looking after him so he lets himself be led into a car.

The hospital is the most forcibly integrated place in Jericho. One could argue the coffee shop, since students were fond of the place and visited in clusters, but that couldn’t trump the very violently upfront sanctity of the hospital.

The staff contained a mix of humans and other, both holding a vast knowledge of all medical practices necessary for such a place. With Jericho’s distance from any other civilization, it’s townspeople’s access wasn’t required but very much stupid to deny even with prejudice, and with its renown, allured many more a creature to it.

He’s pretty sure the people who run the place are married, a gorgon and a human, and went out with all their practitioners for dinner often, because of course who would be stupid enough to turn away the only people available to treat them.

Regardless, Xavier is back again, sketchbook in hand and frazzled at even standing in the building.

He figures it wouldn’t hurt to check in on Tyler, it’s barely been a day and he’s gotten a meal or two in him, and he doubts the guy will wake anytime soon.

He doesn’t know why he breathes a sigh of relief when he spots Tyler in his hospital bed, like somehow he’d thought the other boy just wouldn’t be there. He slumps into the chair already pulled up to his bedside – his dad must have stayed with him – and just, stares.

He would assume Tyler is recovering, he’s breathing correctly, connected to a machine, and though his injuries are covered by a hospital sheet he’d assume they’ve been tended to.

His room is as bleak as any other hospital room, and faintly he wishes there were flowers to brighten it. He looks down at his sketchbook and grimaces.

Visiting the guy unconscious is one thing – that sounds very wrong out of context – but he felt some sort of obligation to check in after dragging him through the woods. Making him flowers, on the other hand… He sticks to graphite and charcoal usually, but as if subconsciously aware of the fact, he brought colored pencils.

He sighs, it’s not like there’s anything else to do when his company is comatose.

He wakes up like he’s falling, he wakes up like he’s hit the ground and gasps . Blindly, he reaches out, and more foolishly, when he grips something he goes lax.

“Xavier?” Tyler’s relaxation fades into confusion as he tries to piece things together. Him, in a bed, the beeping of– a hospital machine? He’s in a lot less pain which means he’s probably if not incredibly drugged. “What…?” Images of last night flood his vision including but not limited to–

The bite mark is barely visible from the high collar of his shirt.

He lets go of what he realizes to be his wrist. “Sorry.” He says quickly, then scans the room to see – flowers? An array, in vases, on the walls, and apparently more recently, above the headboard.

“Were you…?” His lilt rolls into an inquisition. 

He is familiar with a range of Xavier’s expressions; what he doesn’t expect, though, is Xavier’s immediate shut off.

“Nothing.” It’s forcefully neutral and every ounce of pretentious he’d resented the other teen for prior. “It was nothing.” The recent strand rolls off the side of the plastic pitifully.

The door opens suddenly, both boys looking up at a nurse. “Ah, hello.” She greets pleasantly, approaching the bed. “I wasn’t aware you had a visitor. How are you doing, Tyler? You woke up quite swiftly.”

“Ah.” Tyler has no clue how much time had passed since, perceivably, last night, and now. “Um, alright?”

Xavier snorts.

She nods, before smiling at the room. “Well, I see it’s gotten quite colorful in here.” There’s a knowing glance to Xavier. “I’ll come back in here to administer some pain relievers after your friend leaves, and call your father to let him know you’re awake.”

Friend sticks out like a neon sign, but neither of them comment on it even when the door shuts behind her. In fact, no words pass between them for a lingering, agonizing moment.

He wants to ask, why Xavier is here, why he made him flowers, or how he even got here. And he’s sure Xavier has questions, how he got in that state, why he was in the woods, if he’s – “Are you okay?”

Tyler blinks. “I mean.” His bar is low. “I’m not dead.”

Xavier stares at him. He picks up his sketchbook without fuss and in just a second – he’s gone.

Tyler sighs. He doesn’t fault the other’s avoidance; he’s certainly done more for Tyler than was warranted and he’s grateful for that. Still, his eyes drift to the color in his room before furrowing.

The flowers don’t look like anything he’s ever seen. They’re… incredibly vibrant, a rainbow yet still the same looking petals across the room. He reaches out, aiming to get a closer look when he comes in contact with the flower. 

It vanishes.

“– need help getting him to your car?” Donavan hums, blinks from his stupor when he realizes the nurse is addressing him.

He shakes his head. “No, I’ve got it handled.” As a sheriff he’s more than familiar with paperwork but right now he really wants to get his son home. It should be the last of it, as the man takes the clipboard from him, and he sighs as he prepares himself to enter the room.

“Dad.” Tyler addresses, dulcet tone stemming from exhaust. His kid looks more wrung through life than he’d ever want him to be, and he’s sure his own expression matches.

“Hey, kid.” He sits down at his bedside. “Ready to go home?”

“Yeah.” It takes a second to adjust him to a position where he can tug him up. He is languid in the sweeping motion he takes when propping his son against him for movement, and his son is – small. He’s taller than him but right now he’s just…

“Ty.” Donavan calls, watching the little shit scamper off further. “Bud, it’s time to go.”

“No!” It’s less petulant in the way he’s giggling, gape in his teeth showing real well when he smiles. He’s easy to scoop up in one swift blow, but harder to retain in the squirming. The fight in him goes out when he rests his head against Donavan’s shoulder though.

“Come on, kid.” Really tuckered himself out, something he’s glad for. “Let’s head home.”

He closes his eyes.

“Come on.” He’s mindful of the physical strain Tyler’s under, and is cautious to compensate. They get to his car, he maneuvers to open the door and secure his son in his seat, before entering his own side.

Maybe it’s wishful, but he assumes the rest of the ride will be in silence.

“Dad?” Tyler asks softly. He hums, eyes still on the road. “About what happened–”

“Tyler.” It’s harsher than he intends, nonetheless his son shuts up donning confusion. “It’s–” Donavan swallows. This is harder than he thought it would be. He knew– they knew the risks, and she told him to look out for the signs. To look after their son, in case he–

He could be like his mother, in many ways – despite her absence – he is.

And the thought of that – not only the detriment it had on his– his wife – who had lived and loved and smiled , who had been through hell at his side and still persevered until it ended her . It terrifies him. This isn’t– he doesn’t want this . Not through the means of not wanting his son to defect from his human side to his mother’s heritage, but that he could be subjected to the same cycle and come to the same fate.

He buried his wife with a two month old in hand. It is not something he can conjure enough strength to do again.

“It doesn’t matter.” He snaps, instead of fracturing. “You’re home now, you’re safe.”

Tyler’s jaw sets, for a second, before he adapts something neutral and stays determined in looking out the window. His fists clench, and he closes his eyes. He doesn’t attempt to speak up again.

It doesn’t matter if his son is a monster, any variation of the word. He can’t – 

His wife was in bed most days, growing weak and pale. Even her laugh sounds like a weight has been set on her chest and when she reaches up – he is at her side immediately – and cups his face.

“Don,” was a wisp on her lips, cracked with discomfort. 

He isn’t a talker, she didn’t marry him for being a talker, but he does kiss her temple long enough that it might siphon any of her pain.

He couldn’t come to terms with his wife’s ailment if he’s being honest with himself, not with it’s penance. But for his son? He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but his kid has never gone down easily. Not when he was born– 

Screeching something shrill, “breathing” his wife confirmed so happy even when the light in her eyes was dying. 

Not when he was a toddler–

“No!” Walker mused to him about every child’s ‘no’ phase, something he finds increasing irritation in as his son denies a nap and even moreso with his, excuse his language, pisspoor attitude .

A child.

“Tyler.” He calls after, and unsurprisingly, Lucas pops up as well. “Where the hell did you put my uniform?” Tyler is straight-faced. Lucas was not.

Or a teen.

“Dad.” It sounded like a plea. It looked like one, too, with his red rimmed eyes. The mural – he didn’t care for it to begin with, not because it was made by a nevermore kid but he’s never really cared for art – was desecrated. He– that kid had worked days on it, coming into town before outreach banners were even put up to create it.

And it was destroyed.

“What did you do?” He’s not mad. He’s not accusatory. Nothing, no negative emotion of his own can compare to the wreck of a state Tyler is in.

His son was a fighter, through and through, and this? By god would he get through this.

Donavan just prays he can steel himself enough to help him through it .

Saying seeing Xavier in the coffee shop feels unnatural seems… mean. As much as Tyler’s mind relents to place the other boy in this setting, it is a physical instance that is very much happening, no matter how out of place and blatantly uncomfortable the other boy appears.

“What can I get for you?” Tyler drawls, setting down a now cleaned mug and attempting something wry, no matter how unsettled his nerves actually are.

Xavier blinks, like he’s surprised at being addressed at all. “A coffee.”

A… blander reflection of the artist than he’d imagine. He makes the mistake of commenting on this. “Just a coffee?” He prods.

The sneer he’s met with is more familiar to him. The scoff, too. “Why don’t you pick, coffee boy?” Xavier rebuttals, the quality of insult suffering with its quick draw. “I’m sure your taste has improved from working here so long.”

Initially he wouldn’t care to impress anyone, to get an order ‘right’ when someone thrusts upon choice to him. Now, though, he swallows to alleviate the pressure of Xavier's sharp eyes on him.

He was stupid to try and rouse him in any attempt at playful banter, they’re both too wound up and on edge for him to try to diffuse it through teasing, and it’s never been a part of their relationship, now especially not a time to integrate it.

This only adds to his want to make something that isn’t abysmal. He has no clue what the guy might like since he’s never in here and no other foods he likes to base it off of.

He’s putting way too much stalk in making coffee, but everything about their dynamic has always been intense. He finds himself moving to the espresso machine on muscle memory alone, and when he reaches for milk it’s – he looks down – almond.

Maybe it’s profiling, but the amount of dietary restrictions between the students at Nevermore makes his first pick for them never actual milk.

He goes for something on the sweeter side, doubting Xavier as an all black kind of coffee drinker, and sets the mug down to be judged.

“What do I owe you?” He’s certainly never shied away from bluntness.

“Don’t worry about it.” Tyler rubs his neck, before his gaze droops down to Xavier’s. The guy’s hand flies to his neck, blatantly affronted. Almost spitefully he takes a sip from his mug, before almost reflexively taking another.

“Good?” He scrubs hope out of his voice, leaving behind a dry grit.

Xavier doesn’t reply as he rolls his eyes. “Thanks for the coffee.” He murmurs.

Tyler smiles despite himself. “Have a nice day, we hope to see you again.” And for once, customer service carries him through.

For all the times he has cornered Xavier, he doesn’t know why he expected anything outside of retribution for this fact. Still, he’s spooked when he locks up and a voice calls out to him.

“Jesus.” His hand went to his chest a bit too harshly and he soothes the spot over almost apologetically. “You know, you could’ve told me you wanted to talk earlier? When you saw me?”

“I could’ve.” Xavier confirms. “But you were being a prick.”

He doesn’t refute this, but he thinks it has more to do with working up the nerve to ask than his own behavior.

“So what is it?” They cut away pleasantries. Xavier has seen the worst of Tyler, in more ways than one in recent development, and Tyler has brought out the worst in Xavier. What else is there between them but distilled intent.

“What do you mean, what is it?” Xavier demands. “I found you in the woods mangled , what happened?” His voice lowers significantly, some semblance of worry crossing his features.

Tyler grimaces. “It’s – fine.” The fact that he’s gone to deflect is uncannily and detrimentally reflectant of his father. “I’m better now.” Mostly, getting up is a struggle. “And everything there was to do about it has been done.” That is to say, nothing.

For a rich private school kid, he’s got to say, Xavier has got displeasure down pat.

“Better?” He asks, incredulous and raising in tone. “You’re still walking with a limp.” He hisses. Tyler winces; he was hoping no one would pick up on it. “Do you even know how you got there in the first place?”

Maybe it’s his own father’s dismissal of the instance, or his own peculiarly intimate understanding of the inner workings of one Xavier Thorpe, but he sighs, and he relents. “I was drugged, with what? I don’t know.” He confesses, and Xavier falls silent.

“It was your plant teacher.” He chuckles humorously. “Whatever the fuck that means. I don’t know, it was over the course of a while , I just–” He breathes. “Something was wrong, I knew that, and then I started blacking out all the time, and waking up with injuries, and torn clothes, and–”

“Finally I woke up in this weird alcove, chained to the wall, and there she was.”

He breathes again, like the air in his lungs has been heated by his anger, only to be let go and cooled by the outside. “I don’t know what she did to me, I don’t know if she plans on doing more, my father won’t talk about what happened in the first place and I don’t know if I’m in danger.”

It’s the first time since he dropped his old friends, and outside of a therapy session, that he’s really talked about things. The first time he’s talked about these things.

“Do you know I’m a psychic?” Xavier asks after a beat, his gaze intense.

Tyler’s brow furrows for a split second. He didn’t exactly know what the guy was before – he’s never asked – as well as not knowing really any of the species Nevermore housed or how to identify them. “I guess not?”

“Well, I am.” He puts it more simply than it deserves to be. “It manifests differently from person to person, some get visions when they interact with something, or from meditation, or listening to music, or in my case, in dreams.”

There’s a more nervous look as he searches Tyler for something . “I think…” He trails off, before regaining his footing. “I think I’ve been seeing you in visions.”

Tyler wants to deflect to skepticism, not truly in his own disbelief but in the knot coiling in his throat and the fear seizing him. He was tempted to inquire that the other boy could just be dreaming about him, but he thinks better of it instantly because Xavier would most definitely lash out in retaliation and he– he needs him, right now, he has no one else and despite all circumstances Xavier has offered him…

A shoulder.

It is not something he will take lightly, and nothing he’d try to dissolve with misplaced humor that would be met scathingly.

He’s being scrutinized for his reaction, which is fair. As if incentive for the other to carry on, he remains silent and – hopefully not outwardly – unsettled. 

“I don’t think you’re human anymore, if you were to begin with.” Xavier confesses, neither of them are looking in each other’s eyes anymore, like the fragility of it would break them. “I’ve seen flashes– of a monster– nothing like anything I’ve ever seen.”

That’s just– wonderful . Isn’t it? Turns out he’s now if not has always been a fucking monster – in more ways than one – doing who knows what and–

“Hey.” Xavier’s looking at him now, eyes pooling deep into his own as his grip latches onto his arm, startling him into the moment. Looking into eyes that pierce his own makes him wonder how he’d ever not known the other was a seer, as they peer into him. “It’s gonna be okay, we’ll– we’ll figure it out and it’ll be fine.”

“No one will hurt you.” There’s a sinking feeling when that is promised to him, not because he doesn’t believe it but that being the least of his worries. But who’s going to protect everyone else?

He swallows. “Yeah.” He says weakly. “Okay.”

The advantage of being a Nightshade is having access to their library. The downside? He has scoured the entire goddamn thing twice for any goddamn thing about glimpses of a monster he thinks might be Tyler.

“What is it?” She sounds downright bored, pale blue eyes befitting for an icy chill. “You’ve never shown interest in the library before, what do you need from it now?”

He scoffs and slumps further into the ground from his place on the floor. “Nothing that I can find.” He relents. As much as he’d like to claim he’d recovered drastically from his father’s more… extreme ideals, failure still held a bitter singe. 

Especially now, when he can’t afford it . Tyler was relying on him, and while he truly had no obligation to help him, the boy had zero access to the workings of the supernatural world and it felt downright cruel after the treatment he’d been subjected to to let him blunder about it on his own.

If not incredibly dangerous, with Thornhill’s apparent ulterior motives and having already ( Tortured? Experimented on? Drugged?) set hands on, with intent to do again if they don’t do something about it .

It’s frustrating, but he can’t afford the emotion right now. He has to get results and quick .

“What is it for?” Bianca prompts. She has never been one to dance around anything, something he’d always admired about her. And she is his closest confidant, not that Ajax was lesser than her, but she had more understanding of both him and the world they inhabit, and his best friend did not need context both to empathize with and understand him, nor did he ever demand it.

“I need.” He says slowly, because although he has utmost certainty that she has no association with their resident two-faced botanist, he has sworn confidentiality. “A book on monsters, but none of the ones here have what I’m searching for.”

Their relationship was weird before they were together, even more so after the fact. Bitter resentment turned avidly into resignation. She knew him best, second only to Ajax.

“What do you know of it?” She sits across him easily, legs splayed to her side in a meek imitation of a tail.

He breathes out. “I’ve seen it, in visions.” 

She nods. “And why do you need to find it?”

This time, he looks to the floor. The less she knows the better but the more she knows the more she can help him. “I can’t tell you, it’s not my secret to tell.”

Her eyes narrow at that, piecing together what this means and what this could mean. Thankfully, she lets it rest. “There’s more knowledge here, than what is held in the bookshelves.” A more cryptic turn than he’d thought they’d take. When she stands, she offers him a hand up.

There’s… pictures? He guesses? Past members of their secret society, mars on the walls of scuffles lost to time, black ichor staining the ceiling that has a hole that’s been filled twice and makes its third appearance in its own void staring down on them.

A detective could have a field day in here, but he doesn’t think any of this would be relevant to what he’s trying to find.

She has no clue what he’s thinking, just that he is, but already comes to the conclusion that the thought isn’t her own and clasps their hands together, dragging him to the wall.

It is a lot more familiar an action than he wants, but his own disgruntled resolve doesn’t shake her own as she lets go and – unlatches a painting?

“What the fuck.” He deadpans, staring down the safe.

“You want a book of monsters?” She muses. “Here it is.” Before he can ask what the code is, she pulls out a slip of paper that looks centuries old, a number inscribed on it. It unlocks with a click, and there lies the book.

“Thank you.” He says sincerely, and she gives a rare, real smile.

“No problem, Thorpe.” Things have been weird, since they broke up. It wasn’t as horrible as other teen breakups were, they were as they’d always had been in their closeness, but there was still the betrayal of what Xavier had felt – been paranoid of but never proven – and the guilt and anguish Bianca had reciprocated at his acquisition.

It’s nice to know that despite that, she’ll still have his back when he needs it.

He takes the book to his dorm, Rowan not even blinking an eye as he steps in. While he’s relatively harmless, he doesn’t pull it out in someone else’s presence if he can help it no matter how desperate he is to see if this could put an end to his search.

He resigns to taking a shower and finally going to sleep, until–

He looks down at his phone when it buzzes. Obviously it is not his father, because he very specifically has any notifications from him silenced, which leads him to his next more obvious conclusion, the person texting him being the guy he recently gave his number to.

I found something .

There are a lot of files cluttering his house. His father’s house, and by default, his own, is littered with papers. He’s pretty sure he could compile a list of crimes from the last thirty years with all that is in here.

Which leads him to his first and only goal of rifling through it.

“You’re not human anymore . ” It wasn’t said lightly but still he buckled. “If you ever were . ”

It wouldn’t be through his dad, as disconnected as his father is from him, he hopes he would tell him about something so grave. His mother, however, his father wouldn’t say a thing about her if it’d kill him.

He’d suspect they’d have files on her. He doesn’t know if there’d be incentive to purge them but he’d reckon it’d be more work than it’s worth.

He hopes it’d be more work than it’s worth.

He starts with the obvious, looking for their last name and finding his parents’ marriage certificate, witnesses unsurprisingly being both Noble Walker and his wife. Her medical history, bipolar disorder , not a surprise when it had both come up with his dad and psychiatrist, but also…

That would be a really good cover for turning into a monster. Well, obviously not turning into one, but any resulting mood swings, or disappearances, or–

He hopes Xavier can find something.

But in case he isn’t, Tyler is searching through the mess of a hoard in hopes of anything. Looking through literally every other file is not something he looks forward to, and he’s afraid as he skims that he’ll miss something important. But it’s time sensitive, until his father returns home and can interrogate him as to why he’s going through his things. 

There is nothing through the cursory glance of the people of Jericho, he’s cycling through the institutions of Jericho, finally on the hospital record they have, before coming up short except all of his mother’s admissions of deterioration. 

The Nevermore file is filled of instances of students getting into trouble, legal, not detention, before finally–

Francoise Sylvanne

Her Nevermore file. That she had– she went to Nevermore . Just below it, barely at the end of the page. Hyde .

He pulls out his phone.

Xavier’s first proposition is that they meet in his art? Cabin? In the woods?

To which Tyler replies. “I’m not going back into the woods where I was tortured.” Not when Thornhill could show up. She still hasn’t– shown up, since what she’s done. It’s getting closer to a week and he is on edge. Whatever it is that he is reformulating can’t be good.

“Right.” Xavier says, with an edge of regret over his own lack of forethought. “But, uh, where else? And I swear if you say the Weathervane.” The tail end of it is humorous, light.

He finds himself enjoying the friendlier side of Xavier.

“I mean, there’s a breakroom.” He replies. “And I have the keys for locking up.” Xavier looks less amused. “Look, we need somewhere where Thornhill can’t get me or won’t raise awareness of what we’re doing until we have a plan of action to do it. If we’re lucky, we can figure something out where we can use your, uh, art room, but for right now…”

“It’s the most convenient spot.” Xavier completes. “Alright.”

“Alright?” That was much easier than he’d expected.

“Alright.” He repeats. “It’s the most logical location. Unless you somehow have a better spot that you randomly decided to withhold?”

He shakes his head. “No that… that sounds good.”

“I have found exactly one source on hydes.” Thank god for that, it may be minimal but it’s not nothing. He’d searched the nightshades library a third time, and in a bout of paranoia, checked behind the rest of the paintings (there was more there, but not what he was looking for).

“Okay.” Tyler sits, the break room couch they share as they pool over their singular resource in the dull light of the singular bulb.

“Basically.” He grimaces, because it’s… unpleasant. The only good thing about it was the knowledge they’d gotten, which was all bad things and limited, but at least minimally identifiable now. “Hydes are described as… volatile.” He says carefully, but Tyler only nods.

“There isn’t much research about them, since, well, anyone,” insane , “ determined enough to research a hyde were… killed.”

Tyler purses his lips, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“Generally, a hyde’s, er, other form?” There might be a word for it, people had adamantly tried to gather any data they could on them, but it’s not listed there if there is one. Dully, he figures they could decide their own. “Is usually evoked by trauma or chemical exposure.”

“So what she injected me with…” Tyler finishes.

Xavier grimaces. “Was definitely what awakened your genetics.” Would that make Thornhill–? “Another thing, is that hydes… they have,” it’s the technical term for it but it’s still weird , “uh, masters, I guess.”

“Not Jekyll’s?” Tyler jokes.

Xavier snorts. “You read that?”

“For English class.” He’s almost playfully offended. “Or the sparknotes of it.”

It startles a genuine laugh out of Xavier. “Well, I hope you don’t expect to spark notes this,” he gestures to the book. “Because there isn’t going to be a test to fail at.” It’s weird to make fun of the dire consequences of not taking this seriously while not taking this seriously, but Tyler smiles, like making light of the situation has lightened his shoulders.

“So this is what I turn into?” He’s looking at the page with apprehension. He’s not fearful, that isn’t to say he’s happy about it, but he’s more accepting at his newly discovered outcast status for someone who’d recently stopped tormenting one.

“Yeah.” He wouldn’t wish this on anyone. Other outcasts have the benefits of communities with hundreds of years of history of their traits and biology to help them, but hydes? They’ve effectively taken themselves out. There could be plenty out there unknowingly, that will never know, or it could just be Tyler, singular in a species.

He continues. “The general consensus,” there’s other sources noted, none of which occupy either library. “Is that masters have almost complete control over their hydes.”

“Do we think Thornhill managed…” Tyler doesn’t complete his thought.

“I don’t know.” Xavier confesses. The amount of variables that are unknown are plentiful and skewed to their disadvantage. “Even if we knew what compound she used, there’d be no way to know how it affected you since we don’t know–” anything, really.

Tyler deflated, it’s the most normal reaction he’s had so far. 

“So we lack information.” Tyler confirms. “We have one source on how hydes work, where everything else remains deficit, is what you’re telling me?”

“Basically.” Says Xavier.

“Which Thornhill also had access to?” Tyler voices.

“Theoretically.” There’s no confirmation as to whether she knew about the Nightshade’s dwelling, but she’s a teacher, so it’s more likely that she does.

“There could be more she’s pulled from.” This is definitely a summary of what they’ve already established. Since she came up with a compound, there’s definitely more she’s learned from. 

“And hydes are established as incredibly volatile, and flimsy.” Tyler finishes recounting.

It’s not a summary, he realizes and feels a bit of shame about how slow on the uptake it is. He’s going somewhere with this.

“Which means,” mistaking him as a dumb townie was stupid, the glimmer in his eyes is nothing but intellect, and he is glad they are on the same side now, “ we can make up anything pertaining to hydes and convince her of it.” Because no matter what she’s read, she can’t confirm it as reliable .

His grin matches Tylers, wild at the revelation and elated at the high stakes game about to be of their creation.

“ Oh .” He says, with satisfaction he’s gained exclusively from his father, haughty and rich . “We are going to do so much damage .”

“What can I get for you?” He is perfectly saturnine, a picture of customer service and staring down the woman who constrained and tortured him.

“Memories.” Xavier says. “Or memory alteration, is what we’ll play it as, we don’t know the extent of commands and neither does she.”

“Ultimately, we need to find out if she does have control over you, and we’ll go from there. If she does? We function under the notion you cannot remember instances of being a hyde.”

For his own safety, he gets it.

“If not?”

“We convince her you have acquired another master who commanded you to forget about that night.”

Her gaze is more analytical than he remembers and it remains unchanged. What’s different is the sparks eating at his skin and the coiling of his stomach. “My usual.” She smiles pleasantly.

“Of course.” He wishes he knew more about poison and had some on hand. Alas, they play the long game. “We don’t know what she wants and until we do we can’t take her out.”

It’s a sentiment he focuses on very hard as he serves her with as much charm as ever. Any bared teeth could give him away, so he keeps it absolute in his every action. He has severed people he’s loathed before, and he’ll do it again, and keeps his composure as he sets down her mug.

“Thank you.” Maybe to her own ears she sounds gracious. “How have you been doing, Tyler? I was sad to see you were out for a few days.” There isn’t many people in today, so he doesn’t have an excuse to go back behind the counter. That, and he still needs to set up barbed wires.

He laughs, scratching his neck. “Yeah, uh, it’s kinda stupid.” It’s a weird parody of how they used to talk, but he guesses this is the truer version.

“I was in the hospital for a bit.” She makes a noise between alarm and sympathy. “I think Lucas finally convinced me to finally go to one of his dumb parties again.” Lies breathe easier with bits of truth. “I probably got trashed, my dad wasn’t happy, not when I showed up with all those bruises.” He muses.

“Dumb teenager shit, you know? I’m sure you’ve seen your fair share.” He jokes.

“That I have.” She says before tipping her cup to take a sip. “I’m glad you’re rekindling old relationships, even if, ah, it isn’t through the smartest decisions.”

He wheezes lightly. “You and me both.” He smiles, and the bell rings behind him. “Ah, I should probably go–” he gestures back to the counter, and she waves him off kindly.

Right, now to figure out how much sway she has over him.

The bonus of wanting to find out if Thornhill can control him is that she also wants this knowledge. Downsides including but not limited to prolonged exposure to her.

“Thank you again.” She says, closing the trunk. “I swear if I could’ve found some students to wrangle for this I would.”

“It’s no problem.” He has his father to thank for passing on the ability of pretending everything’s fine. “Do you need my help unloading these into the school?”

“Oh! That would be– well, helpful, but I wouldn’t want to ask that of you–” Tyler feels a mix of shame and anger at the fact he bought this. This act that she has fooled everyone with, yes, but one he’d fallen for uncomfortably eagerly.

“It’s fine, it’s not like I’m one of your students.” This thought is followed by the idea that he could’ve been. He’s not human and he could’ve attended Nevermore .

It’s certainly a thought. He slides easily to shotgun, the plants taking up all her backseats and giving him no other choice.

Thankfully she turns on the radio, still leaving room for sparse conversation. He inquires about what she intends on doing with the plants, and she happily supplies an answer. Before long they’re at Nevermore, unloading to the greenhouse.

“Here, help me with this.” He does, not out of compulsion but because it would seem weirder if he didn’t. She seems to realize this as well.

It’s halfway through the load, he’s carting an interesting looking pitcher plant, when she says, “ drop it .”

He doesn’t, immediately. He sets it down gently (he’s conscious any number of these plants could’ve been used to drug him, but he’d still feel bad damaging one), tilting his head at her. “Why? Is it toxic?”

She’s stunned, for a second, then snaps out of her stupor.

“I should have warned you beforehand. It’s not extremely toxic, but go wash your hands.” She directs him to a sink. “I’m sorry, I should have given you gloves.”

“It’s probably fine.” He brushes off. “Are the rest of them toxic?”

Her scrutiny is blatant now that he’s aware of it. “Yes, but I think I’ll be fine finishing this up.”

He nods, smiling again. “I’ll be off, then, see you around Ms. Thornhill.” He walks; out the gates of Nevermore and alongside the road against the forestry. He’s still smiling.

She can’t control him.

It certainly put a wrench in her plans, and rightfully, she is irate . A lot of time and resources had been expended to get Tyler to the state he’s in, years of planning to even figure out the best means of killing, before finally stumbling upon–

Hydes.

They do the bidding of their master’s, can be hidden away in a human form, and they are perfect for her task. As luck would have it, Nevermore has provided, but foiled by this:

He’s imprinted on someone else.

She has no means as to who , since he escaped and any number of people could have stolen months of set up, if his drugged out brain had so whimsily decided.

She can’t rectify this now, the bonds being permanent as far as she can tell and with no room for error she can’t experiment to find out otherwise. Which leaves the blaring. She needs to find out who his master is, and either get them on her side or threaten them into helping her.

Things may have gotten much more complicated, but it’s nothing she can’t handle. She’s up against a teenager and someone with no idea how to handle their newly acquired mind-slave, obvious with the command to forget (forgetting the entirety of the events that took place, not even allowing Tyler to remember her torture and conveniently covering it up for her) and inevitably, this new power will go to their head.

And they will slip. And she will catch them .

Getting fully bodily tackled by Tyler is a surprise in many ways. First of which being, they’ve never been physical. Tyler’s initial torment of him was more focused on anything he could do to him excluding bodily harm, bar the one time Xavier decked him. Second being the obvious; he almost topples him.

He’s excited though, elated , as he grapples Xavier and he is laughing . Carefree in a way that Xavier didn’t know he was capable of.

“She’s not my master.” He confirms, if it wasn’t already obvious.

Despite himself, Xavier smiles and returns the physical affection. “This is – wonderful .” He wants to meet his joy with his own, because this is something to be joyous about. “It’s not the end, but it’s a start.” He doesn’t want to celebrate an early victory, but Tyler desperately needs a good piece of news.

“Yeah.” Tyler says breathlessly. He’s still incredibly giddy, but he reels it in to allow Xavier room to speak.

“Alright, so.” They’d already had a bit of an outline of a plan when they were first trying to figure out if Thornhill had control over Tyler, but now it’s set in stone. “We need to get as much information on you as we’re able.” Tyler nods. “We need to find out what Thornhill was trying to do with you, because I doubt it was just for the fun of it.”

“We need to foil her plan.” That’s obligatory. “And we need to make sure she never finds out we’re working together.”

It’s easy to follow, before they flesh out what’s more in depth. He figures they will have plans that come up as they need them, and once they have more information, a more overarching idea of what they’re doing.

“Why can she not find out we’re working together?” Tyler asks.

“I don’t want to be mistaken as your master, we don’t know what she’ll do to me if she comes to that conclusion. Or if she finds out you don’t have one, if she’ll try to claim you.” It’s for his own safety, as much as Tyler’s.

Tyler seems to take a moment to process this, then droops slightly. It takes Xavier a second to recognise an emotion he’s rarely seen on Tyler before: guilt. “Xavier.” It’s a tone of voice that he’d usually associate with his father, looking down on him for being a child.

“ What? ” It strikes a chord in him a bit more than he’d like it to.

“I–” Tyler doesn’t have his arms around him anymore, he hasn’t for a good minute now, but their arms still bracket each other and Tyler applies pressure to his forearms when he asks, “you don’t know?”

It’s not derogatory but Xavier still bristles. “What?”

Tyler is searching him for something, something he apparently doesn’t find because his expression becomes a bit more fearful. “Xavier.” He says, he says. “I know we don’t know a lot about this, and this might be… a shot in the dark but–”

“All evidence would point to you being my master.”

He is blank.

The figure, Tyler, he’s slow to process it’s the other boy, what with his bloodied appearance. And he does, after a moment, come back to himself, after–

The bite doesn’t hurt as much when adrenaline infects him, but numbly he still feels the way blood drips down his neck.

“I’m an idiot.” Whatever reaction Tyler was expecting this isn’t it. “I’m – so fucking stupid, how–?”

“I mean, outside of scouring the entirety of your school for information on a creature no ones heard of and still having next to no idea of how any of it works.” Tyler counters. “Yeah, I guess.”

Xavier smacks his arm. “Alright, when you say it like that, it sounds less reasonable.”

“Does it?” Xavier hits him again. This time he smirks. “Look.” Sincerity drips into his tone. “I’m sorry about dragging you into this, I didn’t mean–” Xavier gives him a look. Tyler had the least control over this situation out of everyone. 

“I’m sorry.” He finishes shortly, because Xavier doesn’t need words to cut him off. “If you want to back out now, I won’t fault you for it. You’ve already helped immensely.”

Xavier rolls his eyes. “Now who’s being the dumb one?” He remarks sarcastically. “If you wanted me to leave, you shouldn’t have told me I’ve accidentally gained complete control over you.”

There is a darker, more playful, look in his eyes. “I wouldn’t say complete .”

Xavier hums, conceding. “Even if we weren’t–” he struggles to come up with a verb, “ linked .” It’s as graceless as he feels it is. “I would still help you, you–” formulating words after being hit with the revelation that he has too much power over Tyler is hard, “I would help you regardless.” You need help . “Not because I owe it to you.”

It’s as good of an answer as Tyler will take. He leans down, again, much less violent in this embrace. “Thank you.” Xavier closes his eyes. “Thank you.”

Processing the information of being Tyler’s master, “Actually, I think I like Jekyll more, too.” Xavier says, and Tyler laughs , after the fact is starkly different than processing it in the moment.

(In the moment, he owed Tyler not panicking, because that would spread the emotion and make the other’s guilt exponentially worse. Currently, though, toil is far more difficult to stave.)

It makes sense, they hadn’t been comfortable in trying it (Xavier wasn’t, and Tyler didn’t push him to) but Tyler needed someone to ground himself in.

And by default Xavier was the only one there.

The idea of having the ability to exert power over someone without their consent has always been sickening to Xavier. It’s why he broke up with Bianca. Funny how that turned out, isn’t it?

At its core, he is painfully reminded of all the manipulation he’s been desensitized to throughout his life. To him, around him, taught to him, he sticks to drawing out illusions from his illustrations but that is not the extent of his powers.

“Visions can be altered.” His father tells him and it might be the most useful lesson he’s ever given. “It is so narrow a view of the future or the past, it’s taken out of context and a lot ,” he punctuates as he looks at Xavier, “can be not as it seems.”

It is something Vincent Thorpe implemented in day to day application, after all, if those who can see the full picture and make actions based on it, who is to fault him for their lack of knowledge? He appealed to their emotions, their perceptions, and ultimately controlled how those shifted to tailor to him.

Xavier would be disgusted by following in those footsteps so readily but he hardly feels bad when it's against a person who went to lengths to awaken an unstably dangerous side to another.

Maybe it’s not a morally sound argument, but he’s a teenager, one could hardly blame him.

Still, he swore by not becoming a man like his father, manipulative and vindictive, yet here he is, much more control at his fingertips than he’d ever want in his lifetime. It’s nothing he’d ever want for himself, much less to hold over someone else.

And now he’s the puppet master.

His father would be elated , which was sickening to think about. He would be proud that Xavier commands a creature – sapient, so sapient, but that is the terminology his father would use – no one else has been able to. With the added bonus if it – he , Xavier would be adamant about – killed him (he doubts he ever would, maybe Xavier trusts Tyler in turn too) he would be able to default to the notion he’d expected his son wouldn’t be able to handle it in the first place, after all, who else had?

Overall he would approve, and for that Xavier hates it. But even bigger than his hate for his father is his newly acquired comradery with Tyler, and until his safety – both of their safety really – is ensured, they’re not even going to look for ways to break the bond.

It’s a lot to process, he doesn’t know what to do with himself but he needs to prioritize Tyler in this first and foremost.

What he didn’t expect was the relief Tyler displayed, that Xavier was his – it sounds silly now that they’ve established terminology – Jekyll . It felt like too much trust, when they were just shaking bad blood.

They’re in this together, now, linked in a way that for the foreseeable future is undoable.

And they have work to do.

“Alright.” Xavier says, again, as if hyping himself up for this. He’s more nervous than Tyler is, which he would find humorous if it didn’t make him feel bad.

He trusts Xavier, doesn’t think there’s anyone he’d rather have in this, no matter how selfish a thought that is. And it’s sweet that he’s worrying so much over this, they don’t have much to base off of, the past experiences of experimenting on hydes is repeatedly dour, and they have reason to be concerned.

Maybe it hasn’t set in yet, is why he’s so calm about it. Or maybe Xavier has siphoned all his anxiety. He doesn’t think their emotional states have any bearing on the other’s but they haven’t ruled it out.

“I got a book.” Xavier offers. “I know it’s dangerous to have a physical copy that can be traced back to us but…”

“We need to record data.” Tyler concedes, in case they need it later and because, “no one’s really had opportunity to study a hyde.” Referring to himself like this is a bit unnerving. It feels dehumanizing, even if he doesn’t fully fit in the category.

“I mean, it’s hardly a study, you’d need more subjects.” Xavier argues. “Who knows? You could be an outlier and everything we learn could be entirely inapplicable to everyone else in your species.”

Tyler snorts. “Right.”

“And you’re half human, you could be weaker than everyone else.” Xavier says with a lilt of teasing.

“Purest.” Tyler mutters under his breath. “So, the book?” He extends his hand, Xavier offers up the book. It’s unnervingly plain, he figures they could put a different cover over it. His pen clicks, he scribbles.

“Wow, we are going hard into the Jekyll and Hyde motif.” Xavier comments dryly. He steals the pen, and next to the already written, “ Jekyll ,” he adds, “ & Hyde .”

“So where do we begin?” Tyler asks.

“How does it make you feel, when you control someone?” It isn’t the first time Xavior has asked, and not the first time he’ll scrutinize the response.

Bianca gives him a look, probably for bringing this up again, but indulges him. “There is no difference to how I regularly feel.”

“The whole reason the siren voice was designed in the first place was to be without our own detriment, there is no trade off, not in control.” Full agency to the mind-controller in question. “If it’s a siren using their voice on another siren, it’s a battle of wills.”

There’s an unpleasant edge to it, he’d imagine she’s experienced this. Nothing unlike his own training with his father, he’d imagine, different but adjacent.

“It’s telling someone to do something.” She says simply. “With the full expectation they will do it instantly, efficiently, and seamlessly.”

He’d been under that type of command before, only to see how to resist it. It’s so mindless, so sensible to follow through in the moment.

He finds a grimace on his face.

“Do you ever feel bad about it?” He thinks there would be guilt on his conscience, taking away someone’s autonomy like that. Probably because he’d been exposed to that behavior, as his father distorted reality to his whims. A different strain but similar results.

“No.” She says honestly; it surprises him.

“It was developed for our safety, just like claws or fangs.” He doesn’t know if he quite agrees with the comparison. “I can’t promise you that a siren would never abuse their abilities, but I promise you I would never.”

It still irks him.

But for now he lets it rest.

He has never been more viscerally uncomfortable, and based on how blaring his emotions are (he’s with Tyler, he doesn’t need to put on a face and he’d rather the guy know how out of his depth he is than try and withhold that information) he guesses Tyler is aware of it to.

Given how much he’s pushed this off, it’d be hard not to.

“Are you sure about this?” Xavier demands. Tyler had watched him pace a hole into the Weathervane’s break room, sitting quietly in the after hours with the couple of pages of Hydes in his lap. 

“Yes.” No hesitation, which Xavier is starting to loath. “Look, it’s– we have to figure this out eventually , and I’d rather do it in a controlled environment.”

Xavier would rather not have that knowledge at all but it’s at Tyler’s discretion so here he is.

Xavier slumps into the couch, aiming to jostle the boy next to him but only moving the two minutely. “All fair points.” There’s also the whole thing of Thornhill , and ensuring she cannot hurt either of them. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do, command something of you?”

Tyler looks at him, resigned. It appears he doesn’t want to prolong this either.

“Get me a coffee.” It’s the first thing he can think of; they’re quite literally in a coffee shop.

“I just cleaned the machines.” Tyler protests, unmoving.

There’s a beat. Tyler looks down at the book; Xavier leans over him.

“Literally no mention of how .” They could try to find more studies on Hydes, but given how the Nightshades had so little Xavier would guess how pointless an endeavor that would be. “Tone? Intent? Is there a bond I have to tug at?”

/

—

The Nightshades, pointedly, were a social club. His father had instilled the ideal of finding and assimilating to the most skilled and adept people in his vicinity, the expectation set for school, a feat that Xavier had excelled in.

For none of the reasons his father would’ve wanted him to.

Allies, was requested of him, friends seeps into his mind very fucking slowly. He’ll make it there, he wants to, to break the mentality of collecting people of use. 

And the Nightshades are a social club.

And the Nightshades have required meetings.

“You can try to ditch.” Bianca sees right through him constantly and it is exhausting. “But we’ll kick you out like we did Rowan.” Granted, he got kicked out for entirely different reasons, but the notion remains.

Bianca enjoys being their proxy leader, assumes control naturally, and thusly, Xavier enjoys the comforts of having enough sway to move things but none of the responsibilities fall to him.

“I will.” Don’t whine, child . He sounds just as enthused about it as he feels. “I’ll even walk there with you, just give me a bit.”

She sighs at him in a way that’s conceding, their own giving into one another. “You’d better be ready.”

He snorts; it’s a parody of their dates.

He gets out of class in an instant, not wasting time to get to his dorm and calling Tyler.

“Go to your country club.” Tyler chides and Xavier groans.

“But nothing even happens.

/

He’s passed out, at his desk, and for a split second Xavier does the math to see if he could possibly pick Rowan up to properly get him to bed. Not without rousing him, he decides, taking the easy out as he drapes a blanket over him.

Which brings him close enough to look at the splay of material.

(Rowan typically wouldn’t keep a space in disarray, so he picks up a bit.)

/

“ Hyde would imply my inhuman form, so it would make sense for Jekyll to be my human one.” Tyler says with severity. “Do you know why I call you that?”

Xavier can’t take his eyes away from Tyler’s, the way they frantically search his own for understanding, filled with desperation.

“Because I don’t change , Xavier.” Tyler says. “It doesn’t matter what I look like I’ll always be a monster .” Xavier would scorn the way Tyler said the word if it weren’t equal parts anger and reclamation .

“ You are my humanity.”

“Your role is to ground him.” Said to him: a haze. “Every emotion you have bleeds into his own, every 

/

Basically:

• Tyler and Xavier working off the knowledge Thornhill doesn't have the full extent of knowledge about hydes, while also trying to get that for themselves
• Recruit Enid, have Xavier masking her with his illusions to look like Tyler as a hyde; mislead Thornhill & everyone else (wednesday)
• Basically musical chairs
  • Enid, Tyler, Xavier trying to dismantle Thornhill through deceit and illusion (pseudo pack?)
  • Wednesday, Rowan, and Eugene trying to parse through the prophecy and getting in the way of both groups
    • Rowan lives because the 'Hyde' at the festival is enid with an illusion
    • Get Thornhill to think there's another murder agenda from whoever stole the hyde from her
• Awkward arch where group 1 is trying to spend time with Wednesday to try and lead her away from their bullshit goings on
  • The dates and shit
  • Enid gets an easy pass as her bubbly roommate
    • The only person who doesn't go on a fake date with her and ends up wanting to real date her
• Continued theme of control
  • Xavier scared of becoming like his father, and guilt from the hypocrisy of his previous relationship with Bianca
  • Tyler having the epitome of mental health bullshit, and his previous harassment of Xavier (also a bid of power/control)

/

Most people would look at Enid Sinclaire and assume her coffee order was long, detailed, and incredibly sugared, and they’d be right. Most days.

Some days she gets something more bitter. It feels almost invasive, with the way she is determined to present herself, a deeper insight than he should be allowed. 

Most people would look at the bubbly colorful teen and assume she isn’t a threat, or if she were one, that it’d be the strength that comes with bearing fangs and claws. He, however, finds that the most threatening epithet she has would be her accumulation of data.

She was a gossip, a known gossip, and still snagged out whatever it was she desired. Naturally, she withheld information as much as she spread it, and equally demonstrated a keen eye for what should be disclosed, when, through what means, and by who .

A worthy associate, Xavier had told him and got smacked on the head for it.

That would be the elitist private school kid talking, Tyler had snarked back. It makes sense, as much as Tyler resents it, to compartmentalize and evaluate allies. It is something Xavier had defaulted to – it's not an easy habit to shake – and in this they need to be excruciatingly vigilant about what aid they can take, how much, and from who.

It seemed like a stretch to judge her by her order, or trust her through it. They have limited interaction, and as much as having an ‘in’ with her would be of use, he has no clue of how to go about it in the first place.

/

A knock at the door resounds a thud of not one but two bodies dropping in an instant. “Enid? Are you alright in there?”

“Hit me.” She hisses to Tyler, on the presumption he has more physical strength.

“What?” He asks, baffled at the demand. 

Slow. Xavier doesn’t hesitate. “ Hit her .” Instantaneously, the strike to her head is made, reddening the skin. Then he snags Tyler’s wrist and pulls them under the bed.

“Coming!” She exclaims, rushing to the door and opening it up in a violent swing. “Did you need something, Ms. Thornhill?”

“I was just coming to check in on you.” She smiles, sickeningly sweet and followed by inquiry. “

• Thornhill sus, enid gets injured to cover loud noise and amount of time it takes her to answer the door
  • reinforces group dynamic

/

Rowan surviving, continuously trying to kill wednesday, them becoming friends in order to prevent the prophecy (“keeping” an eye on her and then being dragged along to shenanigans)

“Your murder plots amuse me.” Wednesday says with a straight face. “I like how elaborate yet poorly crafted they are.”

Rowan stabs his fork through his steak. For a moment Xavier thinks it’s a werewolf one – grossly undercooked – before deciding it’s not.

“You should feel flattered, that was almost a compliment.” Xavier comments dryly. He’s slipped into this snide state of piping in, hoping to get any sort of reaction out of Wednesday, but frustratingly nothing comes about.

Enid, who has never outwardly condoned murder in her life, says, “

• I think the comedic potential of them all being in a room together is immeasurable
• Both Enid and Xavier invite themselves to sit down << horrible play for people actively hiding a murder plot 

/

“Oh, what the fuck man .” His voice is weak and watery and bullshit , because he is so goddamn angry but that doesn’t matter as the desire to physically reassure himself Rowan is here and alive and breathing overtakes him.

He is grappled to Rowan, one arm wrapped around enough for his hand to pull his head down into Xavier’s shoulder, the other fastened around his waist. “I can’t believe you.” His voice breaks. “You’re the worst, I hate you.”

Rowan has never been one for social cues – something that endeared himself to Xavier faster with his own lack of understanding – just quietly accepts it.

“I’m sorry.” It’s impossibly quiet; his grip tightens.

Xavier can’t bring himself to care that Wednesday bears witness to this, his best friend could’ve just died, some of it being staged excellently by Tyler and Enid and he has to check on them .

But Rowan had increased distance from him so starkly . He was obsessed with the vision of the future his mother saw (maybe if Xavier had a ‘good’ parent, he too would cling onto their visage as much as he was able) forgoing their and all his other relations for it.

He missed him.

(They lived in a room together, but even still.)

“I’m not letting you out of my sight.” He doesn’t designate an amount of time. Forever? An hour? That is something Rowan will have the joy of finding out, maybe less so if the lashes on his face require healing.

“Alright.” The boy concedes. Refuting would be foolish, especially right now.

“What is going on here ?” Thornhill is slick – he must admit – getting Weems to come down here.

It’s a fair question, a gaggle of blood covered teens, him and Rowan having retracted slightly and Wednesday just blocked in his field of vision.

• Thornhill has to default to manual (?) murders, Rowan gets caught up but fake hyde (enid w/illusion) steps in and snags him
• Really want a Rowan&Xavier thing, where they rarely interact and only see each other in passing but have extensive knowledge on the others' psyche
  • ie they know all of each other's parent issues

/

They have a notebook they has all the research in it but the front has "Jekyll," in Tyler's handwriting "and Hyde" in Xavier's where Tyler's writing is the 'objective' (demeaning) third person about this 'monster' that is the hyde (himself) while Xavier's note are normal and satirical and humanizing. This thoroughly throws off both Wednesday and Thornhill.

/

“People can’t know we’re friends.” Xavier had said before and he reconfirms now.

“Obviously.” Enid rolls her eyes, her hands find his as she inspects his nails and the comment earlier about how she didn’t care if they got ruined becomes void. “But I doubt Wednesday is going to rat us out to Thornhill of all people.”

“She is somehow very oblivious and observant, her world view is as skewed as the rest of ours, if not more in the pursuit of knowledge, and if Thornhill were to offer her information,” silence lays between them. He doesn’t doubt if she had something to gain, she would give up information she perceived as lesser in value.

• "we cannot hang out, your girlfriend will snitch"
• :(((

/

“Have you ever been charged with breaking and entering? Or trespassing?”

“I’m far too inconspicuous to have been caught prior.”

He laughs, snarky and mean spirited as he looks at her, channeling Xavier in his every expression. “Really? You think you’ve had any amount of tact?” It was really laughable. “You’ve ‘snuck’ into my house, you’ve been here for what, 10 minutes at most?” Her silence speaks volumes. 

“Your escape attempt from your therapy office was foiled in double that amount of time, the exploration of the Gates’ house was a mess, and the only reason Xavier asked you to the dance,” he keeps resentment out of his voice strategically, “is because he was equally panicking you might have invaded his privacy, which you had.”

He’s pissy, but not enough to retain anger. “The only compensation you’ve gotten for all of these instances is having got information out of them, but it’s incredibly reckless , the only reason you haven’t gotten hurt is luck and circumstance.”

She did not look happy in the first part of his speel, less so than usual, but by the end of it she’s settled and firm. “And that’s all I need.” 

Her arrogance will get her killed, he’s sure of it. His bone deep sigh is entirely his father’s, and he gives her one more cursory glance. “Have you got what you came for?”

Her expression is its usual mask of apathy and to him, illiterate to read. “Yes.”

“Then get out of my house, please.”

• I think it's funny they want to go to the school dance together in some sort of teen drama way
  • both know objectively they shouldn't because dead give away
  • but yah

/

Probably some sex scene at some point

• Circles back to the taming metaphor
• some equal submission to one another
• they r down bad
• Maybe?? Some interaction with Xavier and Tyler's dad after?

/

“You can’t know that .” Xavier snaps. “What if your feeling this way because of me . What if my emotions are effecting yours . You can’t know .”

/lists examples of autonomy/emotion/

“I do .” Tyler pushes, closing in on him. His hand finds Xavier’s hip, trailing down. “I have . You’ve never doubted me before – not in sharing my emotions. Why is this any different?”

“Why can’t you want this?” Tyler’s face has passed him, tilted down to his ear. He seizes his hand – squeezes . “Why can’t you let me want this?”

Xavier lets his head dip down, resting his head on Tyler’s shoulder. He lets go of his hand, choosing instead to sooth the tremor wracking Xavier.

/

Tyler grasps both sides of his face, and kisses him.

Xavier pushes his hand against Tyler’s collarbone. “Wait–” but Tyler doesn’t, 

/

“If you want me to stop, command it.”

“ Stop .” And just like that, Tyler stills. His fingers flinch in their resting position – still in the air reaching for him. 

His eyes are dark, impossibly, deeply, hooded, just lazily watching Xavier. Waiting.

Xavier breathes, he swallows.

He tastes Tyler in his mouth.

/

Then back to recreating show scenes:

• Where Enid wolfs out, something something Tyler is in hyde and causing damage and then:

“ You’re mine .” Xavier hisses, his nails claw at his back leaving angry red marks. “Don’t you dare forget that.” There is a dazed look in his eyes, holding… nothing . Xavier sneers, his hands tangle themselves into Tyler’s hair, bringing his head to rest on his own.

He doesn’t let him go entirely, just enough to grab one of hands and put it on his chest.

“I don’t know.” Tyler confessed. “You seemed safe, I don’t–”

“Just safe?” It’s nothing they can change now, not that he’d want to, but he really wants to know why he’d trusted him, even before they were friends.

“I just–” As with many things Xavier asks of him, Tyler buckles. “You felt safe.” It’s surprising, but he doesn’t interrupt. “I was in immense pain, and exhausted, and when I saw you I just felt…”

“Relief.”

Something in Xavier’s throat constricted.

“And then you caught me.” He recounts. “I could hear your heartbeat grounding me, but I needed to make sure you were real .”

“Thanks for that.” He says with more heat than he means.

By the look on Tyler’s face, he knows this too.

His hand lays on his chest, a slow, constant thrum. He is less than calm, but he is spiteful and certain. Tyler’s eyes darken, still unfocused, before his hand grips . 

When Tyler’s head falls to his shoulder, he lets it. A familiar motion, in the dance they play, when his canines sink into his skin.

/

There was not an allure to Xavier’s presence, not anything in Tyler’s mind that demanded it or reveled in it. It just – fit.

Simple as that, a piece of a puzzle.

Tyler didn’t need to share a space with him, there wasn’t a quota to fulfill or an instinct to placate. Xavier is just in a room with him, and he is in a room with Xavier, and that’s all that is and all they are.

The only thing he can truly confirm for sure as something psychological is the fact he falls asleep easier. Maybe that is the instinct, a part of his mind recognising that he can pass over the reigns and remain safe, and if that’s true, than the real tragedy of Hydes and Masters’ being the Hydes’ trust instilled in them.

And repeatedly, on record, that trust being broken.

•  think this was meant to be put somewhere else but idk where
• also if I fleshed this out more prolly tweak the rest of their interactions bc I don't think they're quite where I want them

/

Blood coats Tyler’s mouth and Xavier’s shoulder has blood streaming down it. There isn’t too much logic to jump to here. 

/

“Unsurprisingly, the real monsters were the humans all along.” Tyler says with a dryness that startles cackling from the group of teens. Wednesday even smirks, which boasts his self esteem much more than should be allowed.

“I can’t believe you hid your boyfriend from me.” Ajax repeats, still desolated. “I can’t believe you told Enid before me .”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell Enid about our secret society.” He fires back instantly.

“Uh-huh.” Enid chimes instantly. “You didn’t. At all.”

“You could’ve told her too!” - “No I couldn’t.” Xavier rolls his eyes. “I couldn’t link the two through me , are you kidding me? Thornhill was already suspicious of me, I couldn’t have anything come back to me.”

->

The OG notes:

"We're not the killers, we're trying to stop the killer and not die in the process.

Xavier and Tyler 

• Patching each other up
• Some taming fucking metaphor
• Thornhill hasn't interacted with one, they have to keep the identity of Xavier secret from her but she knows there's someone trying to stop her
• "Imagine how constantly shitty you feel with your mental health issues, amplify that, and add to that the accidental unleash of a monster on a bad day."
• XAVIER USING THE DRAWING THINGS INTO FRUITION TO MISLEAD
• Enid assimilating Xavier and Tyler into her pack