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20 March 2011 @ 04:01 pm
Look! There's more! One more and I'll have Huxley's muse back! >:D 

I really want to roleplay these two out too, if I could find a board and/or someone to play with. >>;;

 There's something strange about my brother. It's always been there, lingering in the background. The way he acts, it's not normal, the type no one sees until it's too late. It's like he's a pod person from a bad sci-fi film, like he's a synthetic human made it a lab. Half the time, I doubt he has a soul. It seems kinder to think than the other option. The first time it struck me was coming down our stairs to Christmas morning, I was all excited, dancing back on my toes waiting for Mom and Dad to hurry up. He did the same, the exact same, the scream and smile, all the same as I did. Looking back now, it was so clear he didn't understand it himself. It was an act, an imitation of me.

They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. But they never met Jack.

I know there's something wrong. I want to say something, point it out to our parents but they're never around. I wonder if that's part of the reason for his oddness. My friends don't see it either, I don't even have to say. They don't. He's my adorable little brother they wished wouldn't hang around so much. He doesn't have any friends of his, not long-lastingly ones and I'm partly glad he only has me. I'd worry what he'd do to them.

There's been branches out, him enticing others. I can't say making friends. It's not how he works, but the few that get caught in his shallow web. Well, there was that girl. She never returned to school last year. I blocked my ears to the rumors of a suicide attempt, a mental breakdown. It's just a coincidence, I told myself at night, away from him. Just a luck of the draw, there's plenty of kids who suffer from depression.

And, of course, Jack picked one of them, didn't he? I curled up in a ball, not thinking about that girl with the kind smile who lent me an pink bunny eraser one day. I tried not thinking about our small pets that never lived to see four months in our room together. I'd tell my parents that they'd escaped, tears in my eyes. I tried not thinking about Jack squeezing our third hamster tight in his hands, no malice on his face or that absurd poisoned grin like they show in the movies. Just curiosity mixed with boredom, and it haunts my dreams every night.

I love my brother, I do, but that doesn't change the fact he terrifies me.

And all of that brings us to tonight. Jack's sitting with me on our family couch, pretending to watch the silly movie with me, but his attention is squarely focused on me and I'm squirming, split-focused between him and the television. There's that curiosity and boredom look fixtured on his face again, and I think it's the closeness he's ever gotten to showing anyone the real him. At school, around our parents and my friends, it's that dopey mimicked grin and dead doe eyes that somehow trick them into thinking he's not a monster underneath.

I bit my lip. Can a monster be a monster if he doesn't understand? I don't know. Part of me thinks I'm just making it all up. Someone like that couldn't possibly be my younger brother, but what does that say about me? I'm fucked either way. Getting up on his knees, he leans over to me, resting his head on his shoulder, looking up with those placid eyes.

"John," he says softly. I never got the alliteration names for kids. John and Jack, we were literally named after the same concept. A further proof of the love our parents have for us. On instinct, I'm curling my hand around and in his hair. He doesn't react much, just continues to stare.

"Jack, you're supposed to relax when people do that, coo a bit?" I sighed, and on cue, he relaxes, closing his eyes and smiling just a bit. But I know it's all an act. I'm just coaching him on how to be a human again. Our aunts and uncles, older cousins used to compliment us when we were little and hyper. You two get along so well, I wish my kids were so good. You're just so alike. Then, they pinches our cheeks, me out front always as Jack could mimic me afterwards. "What's wrong?" I asked after a moment, knowing he has a plan in mind. Even if he doesn't understand emotion like the rest of the world population, he does understand boredom and he loathes it.

"Nothing," he sings and stretches out, and I'm wondering when and where I do that. He doesn't imitate people on tv, he won't imitate anyone we know, just me. I pushed him away, glaring at the program, screaming girls pulling hair and throwing punches. "You're jealous?" Slowly moving my head back, I arch an eyebrow at him. He's smirking, gloating a bit. I'm not jealous, I'm concerned. I'm thinking about that girl, our hamsters and that one fish. I'm thinking about his apathy towards empathy and how off-putting it was to see him gloat. How terrifying.

"Never. And you're lying. Just spit it out." My eyes roll, and before I know it, his lips are on mine, hands pulling me down on top of him. It's almost relieving that he can't kiss at that well, clumsy virgin kissing and my mind is kissing back awhile the sane part just screams. It's a game. Jack's bored, you dipshit, and Jack knows how to act! I know this, but I'm also willingly to believe anything that would explain away my brother's odd behavior, that's he's not the sociopath I've been labeling him as for the past six years. He can't pretend all the time, every warm smile I've ever seen can't be an act. Jack arching up brings me out of my haze, and I break away from the kiss, his arms still warped around my neck, coiling around me like a boa. Before I'd realized it, he had entangled me.

"What's wrong, John? Don't you love me?" It's pitiful sounding, and he's pouting but his eyes are too intense and calculating and cold, like someone replaced pieces in a puzzle. It's all a game to him, even me.

"It's not that kind-of love, stupid," I sighed, letting myself just rest on him. As if he doesn't know the difference. Does he really think I'm so stupid? Does he really see himself that much above other people?

"But you kissed back," he prods a bit, I'd imagine narrowed eyes like a snake closing in on his prey but I'm too scared to look up, see that expression on his face. All I think of is our hamsters, dying in his hands. I was hoping I was wrong," which must sound strange through his contextual eyes. The gears are clicking around in that mind, he's trying to understand. Not because he wants to, not because he knows there's something wrong with him and that he desperately wants to fix it. I thought that was the case at first, until that girl.

Shaking my head, trying to get up and away, Jack's arms don't let me. The warm smile is hugging me close, gentle and painfully awkward. "I love you, John. More than everyone else. You're my everything," he says softly into my ear, and I wish the shiver down my spine was an act. If it was true, regardless of my conflicting version of love, I'd give him the moon to keep him and the rest of the world safe. I'd give him everything and anything. But it's not. I don't doubt I'm higher than the rest of the world, but that's not love. And his everything is Jack himself and his entertainment.
With a simple finger-hold, he'll parasite himself to people, slowly wiggling his digit back and forth, and back and forth until they cave to him, his entertainment. That sweet girl with the pink bunny eraser. What was so horrid in her that Jack grabbed onto, paraded around until she placed to bottle of Drano to her lips, and swallowed?

Anyone can pick up a blunt object and swing. Jack just pushes gently and waits until people fall over, smiling after at the bruises that form, the one the time can't even fade anyway into nothing. Jack's laying under me, arms curling, giving my dead puppy dog eyes he's picked up from someone besides me. I'm thinking of the sweet girl, but she never seemed manipulative like Jack. Maybe she was better though. Maybe it was because I knew Jack more. With his lips brushing against my ears, all the times Mallory ever talked to me are flooding through. There weren't a lot, there were a lot more with Jack stealing me away, then stealing her. Before he kissed me again, I pulled up, looking him straight in his eyes.

"What happened with Mallory?" And he just rolls his eyes.

"She was a disturbed girl, drank Drano. Sad, really." And now I roll mine, like a mirror. "Johnnie, she was. I don't lie to you. Just everyone else," he smiles against my lips, pressing them together lightly. "Seriously, I can't fool you even at my best. That's why I love you. You make life more interesting."

Then, Gabe got distracted and stopped writing. x(