Freefall (Jaspar)

Chapter Six

The apartment was quiet; still. A thin layer of dust had settled over every surface, and a musty smell had descended upon the rooms. Even with only a week of no care, the place carried a sense of abandonment.

It wasn't the unused furniture that gave Caspar chills, though. The pair travelled more than they stayed home, and it wasn't uncommon to return home to the long task of cleaning and polishing.

There was something else. The apartment no longer felt like home, but more like a tourist attraction of thrills and ghost stories, and there was no reasonable explanation as to why.

Caspar focused in to find Joe fiercely concentrating on the stairwell, inching closer without letting his gaze trail elsewhere. Caspar had already been warned to stay silent, but with every passing moment, the desire to scream grew more impossible.

It, oddly, didn't surprise Caspar in the slightest to watch Joe suddenly spring forward, lithe and agile as he raced down the stairs. There was little fear in Caspar's mind, even as the setting sun began to throw shadows across the apartment. Joe was somewhere below, and although that should've worried Caspar to no end, the calm was stronger.

It held him at bay. He didn't want to move, even breathing became a labourious effort to consciously think about. Everything was dull, like the world had been tossed into nothing but grey tones and soft whispers.

The pattering of Joe's feet fell silent, ominous in the eye of the unknown danger. Yet still, the soft whispers kept Caspar's feet locked, and his fears held at arm's length. He had no reason to care for the world like he did, everything would work out regardless.

And still the scream built up inside, threatening to spill out in spite of Caspar's lack of emotion. It contained everything he couldn't express: his confusion, his panic, his anxiety. Joe's constant disappearances, the links the police department were making, the yellow tape stretched across the apartment door two floors below.

A crash from below should've woken Caspar. When Joe violently stumbled up the stairs, Caspar should've jumped forward to meet him. Joe's worried face pressing close to Caspar's should've sent his heart racing.

Nothing.

Nothing inside, no response shown outwardly. Caspar lazily watched as Joe spun around, gesturing wildly in a punctuated silence, staring directly at the stairs once more.

Until: "Get the fuck out, now!"

Caspar had never heard Joe use such a furious tone; in all the years he'd known the man. He'd also never seen the floor rush to meet his head so quickly.

#•#•#

"Bitch needs to learn to clean up after itself," muttered Joe from nearby, stomping around. Caspar involuntarily groaned in response, forcing his eyes open to stare at the tall ceiling.

"Good morning," Joe called, much cheerier than his previous words, but still invisible. "There's aspirin on the table, you'll need it after that fall."

Caspar only responded with another lengthy groan, struggling to push himself upright, the hard floor already beginning to make his back ache, almost as much as his head.

"Sorry, you were too big for me to try and carry you to the couch. I had to make do with that pillow." Joe's face finally peered out from in the kitchen, an apologetic smile plastered on his face.

Caspar grunted, still unwilling to try and speak. He reached out an arm, fumbling around until his palm collided with the tiny bottle on top of the table. Grasping it tightly, he twisted off the lid and tipped two of the round pills into his hand.