Catch Me (Synacky)

Chapter Two: Brian

~Jimmy~

You wanna know what's worse than finding a worm in your apple?

Realizing you have a roommate.

I came back to my room after school to kick off my shoes and slide down the slick floors of the halls in my socks, and he was there. Writing on the walls.

"Oh, fucking hell." I muttered to myself, storming into the room. "Hey!" I called out to him, and he started, nearly dropping the marker in his hands. "You're gonna get in some deep shit for that! Todd's gonna find out, and he'll tan your hide."

The kid just stared at me, eyes wide, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. I stalked over to him, tearing the marker from his hands. I threw it into the trash. "What the hell do you think you're doing? You can't just write on shit that isn't paper, how old are you, four?"

In nearly an instant he had dropped to the ground. He was crouching and groaning and rocking back and forth. What the fuck? Well, I'd seen stranger things.

I looked up at the wall to see what he had been writing anyway. Numbers. Just a whole bunch of random numbers. Rolling my eyes, I pulled my shoes off, and slid into the hall.

I wondered why the kid was here. Obviously something drastic, he looked like a nutcase. I took a running start, then let my socked feet do the work for me as I careened down the hall, past other kids who were heading to therapy. Gross.

"None of that in the halls, Brian!" A voice called out. Brian? Ugh, that guy was lame. I mean sure, he had some okay moments, but all he cared about was that fucking guitar. And he was gay. He didn't hang out with anyone, and because of that, neither did I. Which absolutely sucked.

But anyway, the aid wasn't talking to me, so I spun around, preparing to slide to the other end of the hall. "I said that's enough, Brian." The aid stepped in between me and the rest of the hall, a small smile on his face. "Everyone's heading to therapy now. Why don't you go get your shoes-"

"Wait, who are you talking to?" I asked, "I'm not Brian."

"Brian, you know this isn't good for your-"

"I'm not Brian!" I shouted at him. He looked wary, and I took a deep breath to calm myself down. "My name is James. I am James Owen Sullivan. I know this guy Brian, but trust me, I'm not him."

The aid looked down at his clipboard, frowning down as he read some information. "Oh! Oh, um, my mistake, James. You prefer Jimmy, right?"

"Yeah." I folded my arms. "Can I help you with something?"

"Well, it's time for therapy. Have you gotten a chance to meet your new roommate?"

"Yeah. He was in there writing on the walls a few minutes ago. I threw his marker away, but who knows what he's doing now. He's a strange one."

I headed to the therapy room, choosing to forget the shoes. They weren't that important anyway, and I wanted to go without meeting my roommate for as long as possible.

Looks like I was out of luck. He was at therapy, clutching a worn stuffed dog close to his chest. Ha! What a baby.

"Guys, this is Zachary Baker." Ms. Marsh introduced him, and his eyes darted around the room. He took quick, shallow breaths and his fingers were moving steadily on his right hand.

'Playing guitar.' Brian told me. 'He's missing his guitar.'

I told him to shut up. Until he fucking took over, I didn't want him in my head.

Halfway through the session Zachary did that weird rocking thing again. I had no clue what was up with him, but it was starting to creep me out. What if he was a serial killer? Hell, there was no way I'd be having something like that in my room. The fucker.

After therapy was dinner, and I walked on my hands out of the therapy room and as far as I could down the hall. Ms. Marsh called out to me, but I didn't pay attention. I knew what she was going to say. "Why don't you take Zachary under your wing? Show him around?"

Like hell.

More or less everyone tried to sit by themselves at dinner. A few kids here had made friends, but really everyone liked to keep to themselves. The ADHD kids, the narcissistic, crazy ones, they crowded together, laughing and pointing out people that were worse off than them. The anti-social ones taunted and teased.

I sat on the floor by myself in the corner, picking at my pizza. Pizza night was always the best night, but for some reason, I just wasn't hungry.

Brian tried to tell me to find Zacky. 'He's probably scared out of his mind, you should go make sure he's okay.'

I told him to shut the fuck up.

An aid came and told me to get up. "You can't sit on the floor, Brian-"

I glared at him. I thought about yelling at him, about screaming that I wasn't Brian, Brian wasn't the one who sat on the floor, Brian didn't know how to walk on his hands. Brian had way better sight than me and he hung out with that Matt kid, who I despised. Brian knew how to play the guitar and I barely even knew how to hold one properly. We were so different, why can't anyone realize that?

'Because you're not real.' Brian told me, and I buried my head in my hands.

"Shut up!" I screamed, "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Did I hear voices? No, of course not. Did Brian? No. But instead of hearing something that wasn't there, I was aware of him, and knew he existed. Just like he knew I did. All three of us were aware of each other. We just had the misfortune to have to share the same body.

And according to him, according to everyone, I didn't exist. Sometimes Brian liked to think I wasn't real, too.

But I knew I was real. Sometimes Brian took medicine and it made us sick, it made us dizzy, and I'd take over and I'd throw up.

They were trying to make us leave. But where could we go?