Summary:
Bullied teenager Taylor Hebert, and self-diagnosed psychopath Jacob Waters run off on a road trip. Taylor wants to see the world, and Jacob wants to escape the monotony of his daily life.
Some annoying (yet necessary notes):
This story won't be particularly happy. Jack and Taylor aren't meant to be the good guys here, nor do I condone any of the activities described in the story. I kinda wanted to try writing romance… This is the result.
I got inspired when I saw the premise of 'The End of the Fucking World' on Netflix. I haven't seen the series, although I've skimmed through the episode descriptions and synopsis. This isn't supposed to be a crossover. I'm literally taking the premise, and running with it.
Chapter I – Bittersweet
Back when we started, Jack offered me an opportunity. It was an offhand statement, almost a joke on his part. But I latched onto it. For me, it was the opportunity to experience life, the world even. You see… I didn't want to die without ever having left the city I was born in. It's funny because back then I wanted to die. And now that I'm about to die, I want to live. Who knew that Jack would end the whole fucking world?
◙
Jack was a fucked up kid. He never really took anything seriously, and always tried to needle me. He had an odd talent for saying the wrong things at exactly the right time, and half the time I wanted to strangle him. But it's not like I couldn't understand where he came from. His old man locked him in the basement for five years and convinced him that the apocalypse had happened. Insane right? For all of his faults, Jack was good to me. For one, his talent to needle me extended to other people, and the Bitch Trio as he affectionately called them avoided me when I was with him. It's not like he could beat up Sophia or anything, but his caustic remarks seemed to hit the bulls eye. Even so, we were both social pariahs. He couldn't relate to others well, and I couldn't bring myself to try.
It was one of those days that life just wouldn't stop shitting on me. I hadn't seen dad in weeks, he was busy with some recent project (or so he said) and Emma just wouldn't stop pushing my buttons. That's when I realized that I was done. Emotionally. Physically. Spiritually? I didn't believe in that crap, but some people did, so who knows? I'm just a teen right?
It was raining outside, I had forgotten my umbrella, the bus was late, and best of all? I had forgotten my keys home. Jack just laughed at me and whipped out his balisong. His palms where covered in healed scars, but I'd never seen him cut himself. It was a cruel looking blade, serrated on one side, and sharp on the other. "Wanna try?" He smirked at me.
"Can't be that hard." I scoffed, water rolling down my shoulders and hair as I shrugged. He spun it around until it closed, and threw it at me. I fumbled a little before I caught it. I tried to remember how he spun it, and gave it a go. Only for the sharp end to sink a little into my finger. I yowled in pain while Jack laughed.
"Can't be that hard!" he taunted in a caricature of my voice.
"Fuck you Jack!" I threw it back at him, but he caught it deftly and started swinging it again.
We sat in silence. Rain falling on us, and no sign of the bus. It was rare these days, but enjoyed the water on my skin, and even though the cold was biting outside, it was also soothing. My bugs moved around inside the murky underground. Worms wiggled around, snails hid inside their shells. An entire world, separate and unconcerned with my silly life expanded everywhere around me. For once, I didn't see the need to interrupt it.
"I think I'll skip town." Jack said in an offhand tone. As if it was nothing.
"W-What do you mean?" for a moment I hoped he wouldn't catch the crack in my voice. But his knowing smirk said otherwise. He flipped his balisong one last time and sheathed it inside the pockets of his red leather jacket.
He sighed and pushed his long hair behind his ears. It was rare for me to notice a boy. Not with how awkward I was and Emma's constant pressure. But sometimes Jack stopped looking like an awkward fucked up kid, and looked like a normal handsome boy. I liked to think that he'd be one of the popular kids if he had grown up normally. He wouldn't be my… friend might be too strong a word, but it fit the situation the best. He wouldn't be my friend in that scenario, but I still wished it to be true.
"They — the uh… my social worker got a report from the school. They think it's not working out, so they want to move me into some training or uh, apprenticeship program? But I guess, I'm sorta tired of constantly moving around. It's never working out, and I have other… uh, interests."
I shook my head. "Interests? Like what?"
"Well, I got myself a car!" He spread his arms, "and I'm going on a road trip."
"A road trip." I mumbled.
Jack nodded and his smile widened. Then he added the phrase I would come to regret someday: "Wanna come with?"
◙
At this point, it would be nice to point out that I didn't just drop everything and ran off on a fucked up adventure. Maybe that's how it'd go in a movie or a book, but not here. I wanted to be a hero, had created my very own costume out of spider poop and bug corpses. Silk and carapace armor, it was a high end suit in comparison to what most indie capes had. I was relatively sure that it would hold off a bullet, and I had practically destroyed three sets of shears to make it.
Jack had left after dropping that question, and I was left at the bus station not knowing what the fuck had just happened. That night, after I had made sure that dad was asleep, I snuck out in the middle of the night with a backpack full of cape equipment. Sneaking out of the house already dressed in my suit would be very awkward if a neighbor had caught a peek of me, so I decided to just find a quiet alley to change. Thankfully, there was no rain and the cold was bearable.
It took me half an hour to reach the docks proper. Not because they were so far away, but because I kept faltering on my way there. I can't describe just how silly it feels, trying to go on patrol with no preexisting plan. I kept debating on whether I was actually ready, and to be honest, I wasn't. I only had my pepper spray, a collapsible baton, some epinephrine shots for allergic reactions and my bugs.
I dressed as quickly as I could, and hid my backpack behind a trashcan. Walking around in a formfitting suit felt bad. Especially with my frog-like physique. As I walked, I gathered bugs. Told them to come to my direction as they left my range. I couldn't give complex commands to bugs outside of my range. Or rather I could, but that didn't mean they'd follow them as well as when they were inside my range. There were spiders and cockroaches everywhere around me, flies and wasps, and bees. Ants and termites, and all sorts of creepy crawlies that danced in unison under my command. It was a good feeling. No matter what happened at school, or whatever hare brained idea Jack came up with, they would always be there for me to control. My bugs would never leave me to go on some stupid ass adventure in the middle of nowhere.
For that matter, who even comes up with shit like this? Road trip? Hello!? Jack, you there? Or did you get fucking high on some Merchant shit?
Well if he wanted to run off, that was his choice. He could do whatever he wanted. It still didn't stop the sting of betrayal. I hated that I felt that way. Everyone was free to do whatever the fuck they wanted. And the fact that he stuck it out with me and that he didn't give up on me, when it felt like everyone was hell-bent on making my life as miserable as physically possible didn't make it feel better.
Was I afraid that things would get worse when he left? Because they would get worse. Of that I had no doubt. He wouldn't be there to drive Emma and Sophia away. That realization felt… bad. I always thought I was a decent person, there was really no doubt in my mind of that. But here I was, and I had just realized that I was using him. What kind of friend acted like this? He had his own issues and concerns. His life was also going down the drain. And all I cared about was my problems. It was always me, me, me!
I stopped on my tracks. The bugs around me stopped chittering and an eerie silence spread everywhere around me. I pulled off my mask and took a deep breath. The oil and salt breeze invaded my nostrils. There were no cars here, no people. Only the crash of waves and the dim yellow lights of the lamps around me. I pulled out my phone, the display said 1am. I went into my contact list, there were only two entries. With a moment of hesitation I clicked the button.
Jack picked up almost immediately. "What's up?" he said, and I recognized that he was stoned or something.
"Your idea is fucking stupid." I said.
There was a sound, as if he was wiping his face. Then he sighed, "Kay."
"I'm sorry I haven't been a good friend."
"That's stupid, are you on something right now? Listen, I—"He yawned, "can we do this tomorrow?"
I snorted a little. "I don't want you to go."
He didn't speak for a few moments. I was about to check if he was still awake when he spoke again. "Are you outside right now?" He sounded incredulous. "You are, aren't you? Where?" Did he hear the sniffles? Fuck, I didn't want him to hear them, but my eyes were stinging and I couldn't stop even though I wanted to. "Docks, behind the old slaughterhouse."
Jack gave a long sigh but I could hear his ratty bed creaking as he stood up. "Kay. Don't move."
◙
An hour later we were sitting on one of the old, abandoned jetties. Jack had brought some joints with him, and at that moment they didn't look so bad. I was always afraid of drugs, they just seemed like this sinkhole that was impossible to escape. But I was just out of energy, I came here to break up a fight, or hell… I don't know. Maybe I just wanted to prove myself. To myself more than anyone else. That I was worth something; that Taylor Hebert existed and could make a difference. Instead, all I managed to do was break down and cry. And for what? Some guy who probably thought I was a bitch, and wanted to leave?
He inhaled from his joint and gave it to me. I stared at it for a while, wondering what to do when he just stuck it in my mouth. "It's not cocaine or some shit." He said.
I tried to inhale but all I managed to do was start coughing uncontrollably. It made Jack smile like a loon. "Don't try to keep it in your mouth. Inhale." The second try worked better. I expected to start seeing hallucinations or something, but nothing really changed.
"Yeah. My reaction exactly." He echoed my thoughts. His eyes scanned me, the bodysuit and the armor, my equipment…
"I'm a parahuman too." He said. Again it was that offhand tone. As if such a revelation was nothing to him. Like saying he's hungry, or that the sky was blue. I guess I shouldn't have found it all that weird. If powers came to people like me and the locker, then five years of life inside a bunker interrupted by a shattering revelation and existential horror certainly qualified.
He took another hit and continued, "I wasn't really serious. Just so y'know."
"About skipping town?" I asked and took the joint from his fingers. He gave me a wry smile. It kind of suited his face.
"Yeah. I mean, I've been thinking about it. Sure."
"Why though?"
"I… Hmm. How do I articulate it? I guess… I can't connect with people very well. Never could, even before the…"
I nodded and he continued. "It's just you and Sophia that I can kind of understand. You make sense, y'know?"
I inhaled again, and this time I almost felt something. "Sophia?" I said. It seemed so weird, that'd he'd name her specifically.
"Yeah. But she's so boring! Has that whole thing about being a predator, when she's really more a duckling with no beak."
I coughed out whatever smoke remained in my lungs. "Duckling?" I snorted again, "If Sophia's boring, then what am I?"
"I don't think there's a word I could use. You're more into literature than me. I, just… Okay!" He turned towards me, "You got your powers in that locker right?" He said, and I felt the memories almost slam into me. Jack snapped his fingers, and all I could see was brown eyes, "focus." He said. "You could have went nuclear and killed everyone in school. Hell, you could have assassinated them in their sleep. Why didn't you?"
"I—"I opened my mouth but nothing came out. Why didn't I? I had a thousand reasons playing at the tip of my tongue. But none of them felt right. Why hadn't I? I could think of a dozen ways to take them out, and chances were that I'd never get caught. But that wasn't true, was it? What's the chances that three girls would die by a poisonous bug, only for a bug controlling cape to appear, who somehow had a similar build and hairdo with the girl who they bullied.
Jack's smile widened as I deduced my own actions. And when I realized, he smiled. "Exactly. You are, patient, practical. If you could do it, you would. If they were an obstacle to your goals, you would. But they aren't, so you never even bothered to try."
"That's not true!" I shook my head furiously. "I'm not a killer, I want to be a hero!"
Jack just kept giving me that wry smile. His feet dangling over the precipice of the jetty, almost touching the water. He looked up at the sky, it was dark and no stars were visible but he just laid on the concrete and threw the cigarette butt into the water. "Sometimes I think dad was right." He said finally.
I raised an eyebrow at that. "Sounds ominous."
"Heh. He used to bring me food, y'know? It was always the same shit. Military rations, cans of beans and spam. Tasted like shit, looked like shit, felt like shit. And he'd always say the same thing: 'Just a few more weeks Jacob. It's hell out there!' and I put a smile on my face, said 'thank you' because I thought he was struggling to keep me alive. Even though I hated the food, and hated being alone with nothing to do but play with that balisong. Then one day he didn't come by." He shrugged. "A week passed like that, and I couldn't see straight because I was so hungry. So then, I walked up to the door and started banging. Nothing. Until I actually tried to open it, and who would have thunk? It was unlocked!"
He started laughing for a long while, but I didn't know what to say, what to do. That bunker was his locker, and he talked about it so freely, when I couldn't even hear 'locker' without getting shivers. "Ah…" He rubbed his eyes, "…so I walk outside, balisong in my hands. I expected to open the door, and find an irradiated wasteland, or I dunno. Dad never specified what kind of apocalypse it was. Could've been zombies or flying pigs for all I know. Five years, and I never even tried to open the door. Outside, there was a room filled with cans of food, water, cigarettes. It had another door on the roof with a ladder. So I climbed that, and it took me a few tries but I managed to twist the handle until it creaked op—"
"You don't have to tell me this." I interrupted. It sounded awful, and I'm pretty sure I was crying.
"I'm fine with it. Besides, the story has a happy end. I blanked out when I saw the exit. It lead to the shed outside our home. I checked inside the house, and there he was. Daddy-o in all his glory, dead on the couch in his tidy whities, the TV blearing with some shitty show. But there was one thing he got right."
"And that was?"
"It is hell out here." He smirked. "I can't understand anyone."
◙
It was almost dawn when I got home. The house was creaking underneath the early morning sunlight, and my skin prickled with the heat inside. It felt good. I felt good. Even though I hadn't managed to do anything heroic. I looked out of the window, but Jack's car was not there. Dad would be waking up soon, so I went up to my room and changed. There was no reason to go to sleep, I wouldn't wake up in an hour so staying awake was the next best choice. It was a valiant goal, but who was I kidding. I was high as a kite, drunk off of whatever it was that happened tonight, and tired. So tired… The moment my head touched the pillows it was lights out.
It must have been twelve when I woke up, although I wasn't sure. I was cold and couldn't breathe properly. I made my way to the shower, and felt like a human again when I got out. I had a killer headache, and wanted to eat something so bad.
But all that washed away when I got to the kitchen and found my dad sitting there, my mask in his hands and his eyes onto me. "We have to talk, Taylor. Take a seat."
