CW // arguing (obviously,,,), minor mentions of gore(kind of)
he/him for Jack, any for Dave
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Jack stared at the door to his workshop. God, he couldn't do this again. He was so tired of this. Tired of seeing Dave again. Tired of the flipside. What was stopping him from just quitting on the whole 'save the souls' thing? It wasn't like he cared that much about some random kids he didn't even kill. It was all Dave. Sure, maybe he did consider helping him kill, but the point is that he didn't. Maybe he was just being rash. Actually, no. He had every right to be tired of Dave and his whole god complex.
That's what he told himself, so it had to be true, y'know?
He walked into his workshop, yet glancing at his bedroom door. The Narrator's voice rang clear in his mind.
[You know what you have to do.]
Jack hated the voice, he felt like he's heard that line thousands of times before.
[You have to go inside.]
He decided he had no other choice. Well. He did have choices. Several. He just didn't choose to care. He plugged in the 'Happiest Day' arcade machine and squinted as the machine made loud start-up sounds and the screen practically blinded him in the dark room. He let out a quiet sigh of relief once the sounds softened and the lights dimmed. He could hear the faint buzzing of the machine. It felt weirdly familiar to him. Reminded him of Bakersfield and Colorado. It reminded him of when he had struggled to fix the damned machine for around 45 minutes, screwing around with a wrench and nothing else. Reminded him of the puppet. Dee. Maybe Dee has everything under control. What part does he have to do anyway? Dee can do it herself. "That's not nice to say, Jack." He whispered to himself.
[That was a bitch move, Jack. She's just a kid.]
Whatever. He was zoning out again. "Shit," he whispered. He looked down at the buttons on the console of the machine. He pressed some things and fidgeted with others, before finding the 'START' button. He pressed it.
He screwed his eyes shut as he felt himself getting quite literally sucked into the arcade game. It hurt like hell and made him feel like static. It hurt so much. He was so cold. He felt like he could feel himself being rearranged into tiny pixels and he could feel his organs squishing together as he was transported into the game. Fuck, it hurt. But just for second. When he opened his eyes, he was fine. Not damaged at all.
Dave spotted the clementine man and smiled faintly. "Old Sport! You came back!" He cheered, but his voice wasn't fully excited. He sounded hollow, in a way. Jack grunted as he stood up and brushed the ash, or maybe dust, off of his shoulders and knees. "Hey, Dave." He murmured. Jack looked around the dim area. Dee had previously been picked up, but she was nowhere to be seen. "Where's-?" Jack started.
"Okay, cut the bullshit." Dave dead-panned suddenly.
"Wh-"
"I saw the way you hesitated when you saw living-me."
"I-"
"Don't think I can't see through your damn act, Sportsy."
"Hey-"
"If you're going to help us, then you better fucking stick with the plan and not just abandon everyone."
"Can I get a word out or are you just going to talk forever and ever like the inconsiderate weirdo you are, Dave?" Jack glared. Dave grimaced back. "Of course I want to save the souls or whatever, but-" Jack waved his hands around to try to prove a point. "You can't expect me to be all gung-ho about this! I just got here, I barely understand what the flipside is!" He stared directly at Dave, studying his expression and trying to guess what he would say next. "I get that, Sportsy, sure, but it isn't normal when I am more enthusiastic about this! And I'm a degenerate!" Dave screeched. He had a hint of desperation in his tone, needing his orange counterpart to understand how grave this was. "If you're going to start somethin', finish it!" He added, to which Jack did not appreciate.
"The only thing you've ever finished in your pathetic life is what? What is it, Dave? I'm all ears! Go ahead! Because from what I know, you haven't finished shit! All you've done is follow people around like a damned sheep! Following Henry without a second thought, killing kids but never actually shutting down Freddy's, then acting like you've 'learned your lesson' after seeing just one soul be freed! Guess what, Dave? There are tons more! And they're dead because of you! Freeing souls is some hard fucking work, which you are definitely not equipped for! You're yelling at me as if you can do it yourself!"
Jack spat out, his tone a harsh pissed-off red. He spoke loud and clear, though most likely not meaning any of those words. Maybe a select few. "Fuck you, Jack. I've accomplished more than you in every way, shape, and form." Dave said, somewhat less confident. He didn't elaborate further, though, which Jack counted as a win.
"Sure, sure, Dave. Also, if you're so indignant about saving souls with someone, do it with Dee! I'm sure she'd be happy to free souls, especially the ones that you hurt- oh wait, no- that's all of them, since you don't have a single confident bone in your body. You practically feed off of the attention and validation of everyone else! I'm surprised you even managed to keep me and Dee around this long! How has she not killed you yet? I would've!" Jack sneered, although he definitely didn't mean that last part.
Sour bile, or perhaps guilt, rose in his throat, but he shoved it down out of pride.
"Jack, Dee won't want to do anything with me-" Dave started.
"Oh, I wonder why!" Jack glared. Dave gave up. "Fine. Fine! Do whatever you want with your grimy life, Jack. Do coke in an alley or some shit, I don't care anymore!" He shouted, his voice wavering, but he refused to show any emotion other than anger or disgust. Jack bit the inside of his cheek, now somewhat guilty, but not enough to say it. "And you know what else?" Dave added.
"Freadbear would be so damn disappointed, Jack."
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Word count: 1048
