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He wondered how Chris would react if he knew what he was thinking, how Chris would react to wake with hands clamped around his wrists like shackles, best friend’s teeth sinking into his fleshy shoulder. What would he say if he knew Josh thought about it, dreamed about it even and felt a pang of excitement when he thought about chasing Chris down.
Would he be horrified? Probably, if he was Chris then he’d probably call himself a sick fuck and throw him out of the house. He’d never let him back in, let alone sleep in the same bed as that creep.
Josh muffled his sigh against his pillow. His cheek was mushed up against the fabric so much that it was kind of forcing his left eye to squish closed, real fucking sexy, right? Especially how the exposed part of his face looked like someone had put their finger in the corner of his mouth and pulled, tearing his paper mouth apart and forcing half his face into a grotesque smile, pointy canines bending outwards, too big for his mouth.
Things hadn’t ever been alright with Josh, he was the kid in the neighbourhood that would step on snails just to hear the slick crunch, borrow his best friend’s glasses so he could burn some ants with them, tear one wing off a butterfly just so he could watch it flap around and try and take flight, stick a pin straight through a cricket and into a tree to watch it try and hop away.
Sure, he’d never let anyone but Chris see that but he was pretty God damn sure what would happen if any of his friends found out… Not that they kept in touch, no, only good ol’ Sammy and Chrissy-boy had visited after his little stunt on the mountain, he didn’t blame them, he was the king of sick fucks, there should have been a party held in his honour once he woke.
Ashley had come with Chris once but she’d excused herself when he saw the scissors sticking out of Ashley back pocket and spoke up. Apparently, she hadn’t liked it when Josh asked a simple question, he’d only been trying to mend over how he’d fucked up. She’d probably only come to comfort Chris anyway, the big blond had been such a good boy for her, pressing the gun to his own fucking neck instead of blowing her brains against the wall behind her. Who knew she would be so touchy when he asked if she’d hopped on his friend’s dick yet. He was The Wingman, it was his job!
Point was, Josh had always been a bit wonky, seeing Hannah had knocked him off his fucking rocker. He’d managed to hold out for the first (he was assuming) couple of days, maybe a week but after Hannah kept dropping policeman after sheriff after park ranger into the creepy little room she’d kept him in he’d succumbed to the hunger pangs that forced his stomach into knots and forsaken himself, digging his teeth into the still warm forearm that had belonged to some emergency worker Hannah had beheaded like a water bottle.
A quick twist, snap and then nothing but wet chewing.
Hannah had clicked and spiderman-ed around on the walls as Josh ate and for one moment he almost felt like she was proud, that little thought made him happier than he’d been in a whole year, even later when he was coming to terms with what he had just done and the fact that he was throwing up raw human he couldn’t help but snicker at the way Hannah hovered over him like a mother hen, he was so happy, so unbelievably happy. Even if he sister was an 8 foot+ tall monster this was everything he could have dreamed of.
Soon he could clean off an arm no problem, even had torn a hand off to slurp marrow out of the exposed bone and after a while he felt like he could strip a whole corpse, unluckily, that seemed to happen during a little break period of dick heads coming into the mines, whilst they were gone Hannah kept him running on deer and even a wolf.
The last thing he could remember seeing clearly before everything was flipped to suit a more nocturnal life style was the face of a stupid policewoman who stumbled into the room, lazily swinging her flashlight around the room, until the beam hit Josh and she turned to haul ass out of there, whites of her eyes practically as bright as the light she had bought down into the dark with her. Hannah was fast but Josh was closer and he could remember the way she gurgled as she tried to force air down the throat Josh had ripped open.
-
He didn’t want to think about the rest. He was different now, perked up when Chris moved to fast, moved in long, quick steps instead of a confident, loping stride. He trusted no one but Chris to see his face and only him and Sam to touch him, talking made his skin crawl, the sharp overbite overtaking half his face made his lisp even more pronounced. He’d been messed up and it had reached the point that when Chris wasn’t there the mirrors would be covered with towels.
It was on a Tuesday that Chris had brought up Mike that once but had shut his mouth real quick after. It was only when Chris had turned the kettle on he realised he was letting out a low hiss, that happened sometimes, he lost control.
He could see his best friend’s hands tremble at the sound and noticed how slow he moved, almost as if he was afraid Josh was going to pounce if he moved just a hair out of line. He could imagine it too and the thought made his mouth water, he’d been skinnier than Chris but always stronger, nimbler, had been able to dig sharp elbows into his pudgy stomach as a kid when they rough housed but now he wouldn’t have too, Chris wouldn’t stand a chance.
“So, Mike wants to say sorry?” he asked, mouth forming an even more pronounced ‘sh’ sound on his s’s. He folded his arms so he could slump and rest his chin over them.
Apparently, Jessica had confirmed that no, Josh had not killed her and after months he finally believed that yes, his girlfriend was not dead and he wanted to talk. Chris probably nodded but Josh didn’t bother looking up from where he was staring at the kitchen bench, just snorted and stretched out his long spine to hear it pop.
Probably best he didn’t look up then or would have seen Chris’s mouth press into a thin line, chapped lower lip being sucked in to be chewed on obsessively as his eyes traced over the slope of Josh’s shoulders
-
He’d always wake up screaming after they took him home so after just a couple of nights Chris had crawled into bed with him and wrapped him tight in his arms, lulled Josh back to sleep with his ugly, heaving sobs. He’d laid there and listen to his friend’s borderline hysteric apologies like a white noise machine for what felt like hours.
After that Josh slept better than ever, even if this time he dreamed of cracking Chris’s forehead against the bed head until he went limp and his friendly face had caved in from the pressure.
He’s thought about it a lot. He didn’t want to hurt Chris, he’d never hurt Chris (?) but tonight he felt like he was balancing on a knife’s edge. Chris was so trusting, just right there, he’d flipped in the night and was now facing Josh, closed enough that he could feel Chris’s warm pizza breath whoosh against his face and without even noticing it Josh had inched closer, wendigo third eyelids letting him see Chris’s outline to near perfection, even if he wasn’t moving, he knew Chris was there.
Chris was there, he hadn’t been there for him after Hannah and Beth but he was now and he could almost feel what it would be like to just reach out and rip Chris’s handsome face apart just like his transformation had done to his own. He wasn’t sure if it was his own raw steak breath that woke Chris or his new heavy weight shifting on the bed but he could see Chris’s brow furrow and he practically threw himself back onto his back in a pretend slumber, even made his breath whistle between his new jagged teeth. He felt like he’d been caught with his hand in a cookie jar before dinner, like if Chris saw him he’d know that Josh had been thinking of digging his strong fingers into Chris’s trachea until it gaped, snapping his ribs like matchsticks until he could expose insides to the open air, watch his lungs inflate and then collapse as he pierced the fragile tissue.
He almost expected Chris to wake up and do exactly as he feared but all he felt his friend do was lean over him, bracketing an elbow on one side of his head, pizza breath now wafting over his cheek. He could smell Chris’s ironic Old Spice from here and for a moment he thought Chris was going to lean down and do something that bros really didn’t do but instead the body left, being replaced by cold and a new shift in the mattress.
Bare feet slapped the floor next to the bed and cloth shifted, a breath was disturbed, like Chris had sighed and then rubbed his hands over his face.
“God dammit, Christopher. Pull it together”
Came from his left, quiet exclamation husky from sleep. After a few beats of silence the mattress creaked gently as Chris rose from the bed and padded out of the room, leaving Josh to open his eyes and frown in confusion, rubbing his fingers over his intact cheek. All he thinking about how much he wanted Chris to lean down, to press his lips to ruined ones so Josh could fold around Chris and keep him there, sandwiched against him.
Josh’s meds had dulled his libido but it was easy to throw around words like pussy and porn star and tits, easy to think about soft skin, gentle curves and pretty, painted faces. He’d never thought about something a little closer to home.
He ground his teeth together with a groan and flipped to face the wall. Fuck it, he’d figure it out tomorrow when his legs weren’t ticking with the urge to run and his stomach didn’t rumble like thunder.