Disassociating from the grim scene playing out in front of him felt like the most natural thing Jermaine could think to do. Blur your vision, wait for the shapes to break apart, start marking out a painting in your own mind. Something so far removed from what was in front of him, he could carefully excise his responsibility to his brother and... do as Jake did. That was what Jake did, right? Let Finn work out whatever he needed to work out while sitting on the sidelines, sandwich in hand?
The crossbow smashes into the floor with a splintering crash. Finn hadn't thought to pause the flow of time and their mother reacted as anyone would. She gasps, pulling Finn close to her with a high shout to Jermaine to come outside. Something was amiss in the house, he heard her say, you need to come with us now.
And in the center of room, there was Finn. Almost an adult now and yet so freaking young, panting and sweating and looking as if the wrong sort of touch might cause him to splay open at the seams.
"What's happening out here?" Jermaine heard his own voice call, watching himself step into the hall. He looked almost the same, save a fresher face and few less grays in the muzzle. You might not even know he was only around 22, for how settled into his adult self he appeared to be. If Jermaine remembered right, Jake had a different look every week. Guess being golden boy meant you got the luxury of phases.
Jermaine pauses, looking inward for a moment. What the hell kind of thought was that? He squeezes his hand into a fist for a moment, staring at it thoughtfully. Was this place making them go back in time...? Regressing to one of the darkest times in their lives to stall them out, trap them forever...?
He looks back up at Finn, at the hot tears streaming down his face as ghosts of their former selves talked urgently about the demon pestering them and what to do about it. Moving through his own miasma of discomfort and sadness, Jermaine pushes himself forward towards him.
"Finn," he says, voice even and controlled. "I think I know what we're supposed to do to move on."
He puts one hand on the clock and the other over Finn's.
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The crossbow smashes into the floor with a splintering crash. Finn hadn't thought to pause the flow of time and their mother reacted as anyone would. She gasps, pulling Finn close to her with a high shout to Jermaine to come outside. Something was amiss in the house, he heard her say, you need to come with us now.
And in the center of room, there was Finn. Almost an adult now and yet so freaking young, panting and sweating and looking as if the wrong sort of touch might cause him to splay open at the seams.
"What's happening out here?" Jermaine heard his own voice call, watching himself step into the hall. He looked almost the same, save a fresher face and few less grays in the muzzle. You might not even know he was only around 22, for how settled into his adult self he appeared to be. If Jermaine remembered right, Jake had a different look every week. Guess being golden boy meant you got the luxury of phases.
Jermaine pauses, looking inward for a moment. What the hell kind of thought was that? He squeezes his hand into a fist for a moment, staring at it thoughtfully. Was this place making them go back in time...? Regressing to one of the darkest times in their lives to stall them out, trap them forever...?
He looks back up at Finn, at the hot tears streaming down his face as ghosts of their former selves talked urgently about the demon pestering them and what to do about it. Moving through his own miasma of discomfort and sadness, Jermaine pushes himself forward towards him.
"Finn," he says, voice even and controlled. "I think I know what we're supposed to do to move on."
He puts one hand on the clock and the other over Finn's.
"Can I have this?"