Trigger Warning: Mentions of SH
Your 11:30am lecture just so happened to be with the bitch herself. Jade. To get through to Harry, you'd have to go through the formidable woman first. As you walked into the hall, fifteen minutes early, you made a beeline for her regular seat. You didn't tend to sit with her during lectures, but today you were determined that she'd have a hard fucking time getting away from you. You were going to talk to your brother, one way or another. You didn't exactly have a bargaining chip, nor were you especially intimidating, but goddamn were you full of fury after everything the last week and a half had put you through.
You plonked yourself down right next to her regular seat. You were definitely stealing the spot of another student, but they'd live. This wasn't high school, if they had a problem they could suck your ass - you were so not in the mood for petty social rivalry.
One by one, the other students filed in and took their seats. You were only three rows from the front, and Professor Lambert gave you a nod of approval when she walked in five minutes early - despite your best efforts, you had a habit of being one of those people who had to sneak in late most classes, this was the first time you'd been early to a lecture this semester. You wondered if she'd noticed you go MIA all week. Minutes ticked passed, you agitatedly flicked your pen against the table in front of you.
The lecture was about to begin when you got a strong whiff of artificial vanilla perfume. You turned your head to the end of the aisle. There she was, blue eyes boring right into yours, long black hair arranged in perfectly messy beach waves, bright pink lipstick a little smudged. You sincerely hoped that Harry hadn't been the one to smudge it.
Jade stared you down coldly for a moment. Clearly, she hadn't been expecting to see you - maybe Harry had told her about Hoodie. Maybe she assumed you'd be dead in a ditch somewhere by now. Or maybe, she simply thought her oh so terrifying insults over the phone would drive you away from class. Either way, she was dead fucking wrong.
The woman stuck her chin out a little, looking you up and down as she strutted towards you and plonked herself in the seat next to you without a greeting. The scent of vanilla was overwhelming now - it was hard to overdo such a gentle scent, but she'd found a way to ruin it for you.
Professor Lambert, at the front of the lecture hall, cleared her throat. She began her introduction, but right now you were so fixated on the woman next to you that you really couldn't care less about psychoactive drugs.
You leaned in close to Jade, not wanting to cause a scene in the middle of a lecture but also wanting to make sure she heard you loud and clear. "How's Harry?" You spoke through clenched teeth, lacing your voice with venom.
Jade didn't even look at you, instead paying way too much attention to her bag as she pulled her papers out of it. You rolled your eyes, clearing your throat pointedly. She was going to answer you.
"Jade."
Finally, she gave you a side-eye, black eyeliner enhancing the cattiness of her stare. "If you hadn't noticed, (y/n), Professor Lambert is talking."
Her baby pink acrylic nails reached into her bag again, this time fishing around for a pen. You glared daggers into her skin while she pretended not to notice, only riling you up more. Your hand shot out, grabbing her wrist firmly and forcing her attention back to you. She locked eyes with you, blinking slowly.
"What, you dumb whore?"
You blanched, you hadn't been expecting her to resort to petty insults so soon. Quickly recovering, you glared back just as hard as she did. "How. Is. Harry."
Jade sighed throatily, an annoyed high pitched noise. "None of your business." She yanked her wrist from your grasp, finally fishing out a pen with her other hand.
"I think my own brother is my business."
Jade regarded you curtly, then turned to leaf through the papers in front of her. "Well, he told me not to tell you anything if I saw you, so." She began to write notes, pausing her talk briefly to smack her glossy lips together, "Looks like you need to rethink that."
You blinked. Harry had said that? You hadn't fucking done anything! Your immediate thought was how immature he was being, but you realised that he was probably in the middle of a crisis. Perhaps having hallucinations, perhaps he had taken something. It baffled you that Jade, a fellow psych major, wasn't thinking along those lines, too.
"Jade. When I got home yesterday, Harry's bedroom walls were covered in blood." Your voice wavered lowly as you relayed the information. You dropped the catty attitude, just needing to get the information into her thick fucking skull.
Jade looked back up at you sharply, shaking her head. "You crazy fucking manipulative bitch."
You squinted at her. "What?"
The woman tutted, leaning in to hiss the words in your face. "You're really gonna sit there and act like you didn't cause that, huh?"
You leaned away from her, brows knotting in distress. "What? I'd never-" What the fuck did that even mean?! "What did he say to you?"
Jade huffed out an angry laugh, bony hand tightening around her pen. "You mean when he showed up on my doorstep, crying? He told me enough to figure out that you fucking abandoned him while he was having a mental breakdown!"
You could only shake your head at her. She had it all wrong, clearly she had no idea about Hoodie. Hot tears pricked at your eyes, but you held them back with all your might.
"Honestly, who the fuck does that, (y/n)?!" Jade continued her ranting, "At first I thought the blood on his clothes was just from a blood nose. Then I take him to the doctor, and they take off his jacket, and- and-" Jade's voice broke. You noticed, with shock, that there were tears in her own eyes, too, now. The look she gave you was filled with nothing but pure, unadulterated hatred.
You wished you could only explain to her that you hadn't known, that the only reason you had left the apartment was because you needed to go fucking grocery shopping. It wasn't your fault.
But then again, wasn't it? Here Jade was, accusing you of abandoning Harry while he was having a meltdown, probably caused by the stress Hoodie had created in the days leading up to yesterday. And hadn't you done just that? Leave him alone, when he needed you most?
You pleaded quietly with her now, voice coming out in stops and starts. "Jade, I swear I didn't know. He wouldn't come out of his room! I never would have left him alone if I knew! I- I-"
You took a shuddering breath in, teary gaze flicking between her eyes, "Please, Jade, just let me talk to my brother."
She only shook her head at you, features filled with disgust. "For your information, we're going to a psychologist tomorrow. Harry doesn't need negligent people like you in is life anymore."
Did this bitch really think that you were the reason Harry had resorted to self-harm? She was insinuating that you had been abusing your brother. She was fucking insinuating that you had been abusing your brother.
Rage flooded your senses once more. This girl was supposed to be your friend. She didn't know shit. "I would never hurt Harry." Your jaw clenched into a grimace, "You're just mad that I wouldn't let you fuck him."
A sick smile distorted Jade's pretty features, pearly whites glinting in the artificial light of the lecture hall. She suddenly shot up from her seat, the back of her hand meeting your cheek with a sickening crack!
"Stay the FUCK away from my BOYFRIEND, you stupid fucking SLUT!"
The lecture hall fell silent, Professor Lambert trailing off mid-sentence. Everyone was staring at you. Pain radiated from your cheek. Somewhere from the back of the room, you heard someone heckle, 'oo-hoo-hoo, cat fight!'.
Jade grabbed her papers off the desk, stuffing them haphazardly into her bag, before sending you one last glare and sauntering down the aisle, up the stairs and to the door. The room continued to hang in stunned silence, aside from the click click click of her heels, until the loud squeak of the doors shutting sounded.
All the students around you began to chatter lowly, sending snide glances your way. Professor Lambert rolled her eyes from the front of the room, clapping her hands to regain their attention.
As the class resumed, you sank down into your chair, mortified beyond belief. Anxiety rendered you paralysed for the rest of the lecture, you were only able to sit there and sniffle, classmates snickering judgementally from behind their hands.
—
It's all your fucking fault, (y/n). You should never have left him.
Your fault.
Your fault.
Your fucking fault.
You couldn't stop crying. You had no idea how long it had been, but the lecture had ended a long time ago. Now it was just you, the empty lecture hall, and your deep self hatred.
At least you were alone now, no other students to gossip about you within earshot. Though you knew, they'd all be taking home a 'funny story' to tell their roommates. God, you fucking hated it here. The only solidarity you had received was Professor Lambert giving your shoulder a firm pat as she had walked out, though you hadn't looked up to meet her eye. You had put your head down on the desk for the final part of the lecture, too embarrassed to meet anyone's eye. You were in that position still, and by this point the desk beneath you was drenched in tears.
If only you had known what Harry was going through. If only you had forced him to come out of his room. You should have realised that he wasn't just throwing a teenage tantrum, that he was actually in trouble. You had let your stress and anger muddle your judgement, you had failed as a sister. Jade was right. You were one stupid fucking slut.
You hated it, but in your overthinking you had come to the conclusion that maybe Jade was right about more than just your character. Being by your side, while you were being followed by a dickhead with a gun and dubious motivations, was not a good idea if Harry was unstable. She had mentioned she was taking him to a psychologist, too. The girl was loaded with Daddy's money, so she was probably paying for his therapy. You had no idea what Harry was going to say to a psychologist, if he'd blab about Hoodie or not, but you were too emotionally exhausted at this point to care. Right about now, you didn't feel that you deserved to live, anyway.
The sound of footsteps broke you out of your self loathing. Probably a cleaner, come to wipe the desks down. Fuck.
You picked your head off of the desk at last, but couldn't bring yourself to look at whoever it was. Your eyes were red and puffy - you looked like utter shit, and you knew it. You grabbed your long-forgotten pen off of the surface in front of you, stuffing it in your pocket and turning to leave.
Before you could stand, you were met with the sight of a disgustingly familiar face. Hoodie.
Lip quivering, you could only shake your head at the man. Please, not now.
He took a few steps down the row of seats towards you. Still seated, you turned your face away. You didn't know what he wanted, and you didn't care. Right now, you far were too busy wishing that you didn't exist to deal with any more of his gun-toting, blackmail-wielding bullshit.
The seat beside you, the opposite one to which Jade had occupied hours beforehand, groaned as he sat down beside you. Oh, piss off.
Your body still tensed at the feeling of the man sitting so close to you, despite your mental numbness. Something warm pressed against the skin of your forearm, and your guts just about removed themselves from your skeleton.
Involuntarily, your eyes darted down to the table by your arm. There, sitting innocently, was a paper cup of takeaway coffee. The warmth soaked into your skin, the only ounce of comfort you'd felt in days. You looked up at the man, to find him staring straight ahead as he took a sip from a cup of his own. He brought you coffee? Really? You had no clue what to make of it. Maybe it was laced with arsenic - the cynical part of your brain sure hoped so.
Mid-sip, the man noticed you watching. His greenish eyes darted to yours, a side-eye that had you quickly glancing back down at the table. You ignored the coffee cup, pride still intact enough to not accept the offering. That, or you felt undeserving of such a gesture. Even if it was from a murderer.
"I paid four dollars for that."
You glanced back up at the man, who was giving you a pointed look. He reached out and pushed the cup towards you again, pressing it lightly back into your arm.
You shook your head, retracting your arm from the table to place it on your lap and staring indignantly ahead. You couldn't get rid of him, but you were determined to ignore him as much as you could. He was the last person you wanted to be around right now.
The man sighed, sipping his own coffee again. "It's your usual."
You knew what he was doing. Trying to rile you up with his unsettling little comments. It wasn't going to work, not this time.
You both sat there in silence, but this time it hardly got to you. You were beyond the point of fucking caring, he couldn't get to you right now. You were determined to keep on wallowing in self hatred, with or without him hovering around you like a goddamn mosquito.
The man let out another sigh after a few moments. Damn, you wished you had earplugs.
"Jade's a fucking bitch."
You blinked. Okay, you were not expecting him to say that. What was he doing, trying to manipulate you? Trying to get you to trust him, by bringing you coffee and shit talking your frenemies? More to the point, was he a fucking psychic? Unable to help yourself, you shot him a questioning glance.
He gave you a lopsided smile, but didn't offer up an explanation. You sighed, realising what he was doing - he wanted you to talk. If you were curious about why he said that, you'd have to ask. Dick.
Your voice was croaky as shit, but you caved. "Why do you say that?" The question came out as more of a nullified statement, you sounded even worse than he had in the car this morning.
The man reached into his pocket. You watched wearily as he pulled out his phone, noticing momentarily that he had taken the his gloves off at some point during the day. He slid his phone across the table towards you, and you were met with the sight of a thumbnail. You groaned internally, not this again.
Leaning over your shoulder in a way that made you shudder, he pressed play. You were met with the sight of yourself, and Jade. Vaguely, you heard the sound of a slap. You watched as she screamed at you, saw your own stunned and tearful face, heard the snickering of your classmates. Watching the video made you want to crawl into a hole for the next fifty fucking years.
Still, you looked at him again as he pulled his phone back towards him and pocketed it. "So, what?" You weren't shocked, to be honest. He just kept proving his fucked up talent for tailing you without your knowledge. "You attending my classes now?"
He simply took another sip of his coffee, raising his eyebrows at you in mock playfulness from behind the paper cup. You'd take that as a 'just to annoy you', then.
Another beat of silence. The man placed his now empty coffee cup down on the surface below, letting out a gravelly sigh. Then, he turned his chair towards you with a grimace that you couldn't quite decipher, resting his forearms on his legs and leaning towards you authoritatively.
"(Y/n), I'm only going to say this once."
You raised your eyebrows at his sudden solemnity, not really caring what he was going to tell you but not stopping him, either.
"You need to stop going after Harry." His eyes bore into yours, telling you he meant business.
You only stared back at him, face blank. As if.
He looked at you hard, seeming to be waiting for you to protest. When you didn't, he continued; "If you attempt to contact your brother again, you will both end up dead."
Your lower lip quivered as you stared back at the man, gaze unable to tear away from his. You were okay with him threatening you at this point, but could he just fucking stop with the death threats aimed at Harry? As if you weren't dealing with enough shit right now.
"Do you understand?" His eyes flickered from one of yours to the other.
You took a shuddering breath, not breaking eye contact. "How do I know you won't just fucking kill us both anyway?"
He considered the question for a minute; it was a good one. You had no reason to trust him. For all you knew, he was just trying to keep you both apart to make the kills easier. You still just wished you knew why he was doing all of this. If you were going to die, a little fucking closure would be nice.
"You don't." Well, that was reassuring. "But I also know you won't risk Harry's life, (y/n)."
Was that a challenge? You were tempted to retort, but you knew he was right. Manipulating you with your emotional devotion. You wanted nothing more than to splash your untouched coffee onto his dumb fucking face, thus guy really was the lowest of the low.
As your glare intensified, his expression only seemed to soften. Ew.
"If it's any consolation..." He finally broke the staring contest, eyes wandering the empty hall for a moment before returning back to you, "...I'd personally like to keep you both alive."
Was that supposed to be fucking nice? What the hell did that even mean?
You shook your head at him, leaning as far away from him as you possibly could in your chair. "Why don't you just fuck off, then?!" You didn't make an effort to suppress the searing hatred with which you spoke.
"I'm not allowed to." The answer came suddenly.
You briefly recalled him telling you that he had a colleague this morning. Did this mean he had a boss, too? You had no idea if he was in the mafia or a gang or what, but you didn't care to fucking ask. You didn't want to know, all of this still felt like a bad dream.
You did have one final question, though. "When will you just fucking stop?"
You seemed, somehow, to have struck some kind of nerve. The man's face suddenly adjusted back to his default expression; apathetic and unreadable. Intimidating as all hell, though you suspected that was the point.
You didn't receive an answer. He simply stood from his chair, taking a step towards you as he waited expectantly for you to follow suit. His hand was suddenly in the pocket of his hoodie, and you both knew what that meant.
"Come on, (y/n). I'll drive you home."
That wasn't an offer. Brain a mush of exhaustion and pure loathing for all things, you couldn't be bothered to fight back this time.
Part of you fucking hoped he'd drive off of a cliff, while he was at it.