Michael sat silently beside me on the loveseat as Matt and Jess played full-contact video games. Without taking their eyes off the screen, they'd throw jabs at each other to throw off their game; it would have been entertaining if I hadn't been so distracted. Jacob had gone to his room without another word to me or anyone else. This chill of his departure froze me to my core.

"Where do you think Jacob is?" I tried to sound casual, but failed.

"He's in his room," Michael absently answered.

I chewed on my lip as I watched Jess and Matt a bit more.

"You can go talk to him if you want. His room is the second to last on the left." He paused for a moment before adding, "he won't be coming back down, though."

"Did you get the sense that he was mad at me? I got the sense he was mad at me."

"I got that." Michael shrugged. "Jacob's moody; who knows?"

I sat there for a few minutes, partly trying to regain my earlier resolve and partly trying to figure out what I had done to upset him.

"If you want a reason to go up, bring scotch," Michael finally murmured.

"Thanks," I said.

It was all the excuse I needed. Jacob left the bottle in the kitchen, and I grabbed it there. I paused in front of his door, frozen. I was prepared for most of the sides to Jacob: the puzzle, the mocker, the stoic anger. I just didn't want to see the hurt that had briefly crossed his face. My knocking snapped me back from my thoughts.

"Hello, Riley," he said after opening the door.

"Hello." My voice was back to being shy. "Michael thought you might want this," I offered as I held up the bottle.

"Michael knows I keep my room stocked." Still, he took the bottle from me and returned to his desk chair. He slid open his bottom drawer to reveal three bottles of scotch already inside.

"Did I upset you?"

"No, you did not upset me." I heard his words, his empty tone, but his eyes didn't meet mine.

"Okay, well, I'll go then." I didn't want to leave, but I couldn't think of a valid reason to stay.

"Wait." His voice sliced through the air like a bullet and caused me to freeze.

He rose and opened the door further, properly welcoming me in with a wave of his hand. He shut the door behind me and let himself fall against it as he watched me settle on his tattered green loveseat.

"Why did you take my hand today?" His expression was placid.

"When you suggested I go without you, there was a moment; something crossed your eyes." I met his empty eyes as I continued. "It looked like pain or fear or fear of pain. I didn't like it."

"I don't like to be used," he asserted.

"I wasn't using you." My volume rose with argument.

"Really? You did not use me to upset Joey?"

It made sense now. Our closeness had enraged Joey, and something inside the reaction satisfied me. In a way, I had been using Jacob, but not consciously.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." my words trailed off with shame.

"But you did, and you admit it."

"It wasn't my intention, but Joey's reaction was satisfying."

The hint of a smile crossed his face. "I am aware of how satisfying pissing him off can be."

"We're terrible people."

"I am a terrible person; you are impressionable," Jacob countered.

"Will you sit with me?" My voice creaked like a child's after a bad dream.

Jacob hesitated as though he was stuck to the door against which he was leaning. When someone typically confident falters, it sends a ripple through the air. He moved to the loveseat and settled next to me as I stretched a hand to him again. It was a peace offering. In the privacy of his room, I still wanted to hold his hand. I wanted to hold it for no one aside from the two of us. He let his hand slip into mine. There was no delay in it melting into a comfortable knot.

"I can't remember the last time I held someone's hand. It feels," Jacob paused, looking for the right word.

"Intimate," I finished.

"Intimate," he agreed with a slight nod.

"You're carefully constructed," I sighed as I leaned into him and rested my head on his shoulder.

"Carefully constructed," he breathed to himself. "I make people nervous," Jacob added after a long while.

I let out a laugh. "Yeah, you do."

"Do I make you nervous?"

I laughed again with another, "yeah, you do."

"Then why did you come back tonight and come up here when you knew I was upset with you?"

"I was afraid I had hurt you." The admission came out before I had a chance to stop it. I wasn't carefully constructed like Jacob.

"You were afraid you had hurt me?" He pulled his shoulder away, causing me to meet his eyes.

"Yeah, I didn't want you to be upset."

"You care if I am upset?"

"Yeah, wouldn't you care if I were upset?"

He inspected me for a moment; studied not just my expression but also my eyes. "I would. You again did not go after Joey," he noted. This time it was not in the manner that a cat would toy with his prey. There was genuine curiosity in his eyes.

"I didn't upset Joey; Joey upset Joey," I clarified. "Why are you so cautious with me?"

"You think I am cautious with you? That account seems to differ from earlier when I believe I was insufferable."

"Are you trying to push me away for you or me?" I pressed further.

"Yes." He smiled to himself. My only response was to curl back into him. Jacob stiffened again, but soon relaxed into me. "Why are you here?"

"You interest me."

"I interest you?" His chest jumped from a laugh. "I am not someone that can be fixed."

"Are you broken?"

"Yes."

I didn't expect the answer, and if I had, I wouldn't have expected it to come on the wave of a candid tone.

"Who broke you, Jacob Rigby?"

He let out a sigh. "That's a story for another evening." His free hand lifted, and in a tender movement that I didn't expect, he smoothed my hair. "You should leave." It came as a plea on the edge of a whisper.

"Why?"

"I am giving you the wrong impression; broken implies capable of fixing. This is not a fairy tale where love can heal the corruption within me."

"Why do you think you are such a lost soul?"

His eyes drove into me with a deep need in them. "I am not salvageable, and I am not lost."

"What are you?"

"A monster." He stood, paced to his desk, and settled in his chair as he poured another drink. "You seem much younger than... what... twenty-two?"

"Yes."

"Are you a virgin?" His words were coming sharply again as his posture filled with the villainous side of his personality.

"That's none of your business." I'd have answered if the softer side of Jacob asked, but this creature was looking for something to twist.

He let out a small giggle that bordered on insanity. "Go play your games with your friends."

I studied him for a moment. It was easy for him to flip between a gentle soul and a snarling animal. I didn't know how to pull back the boy, so I left the man alone as he wanted.

I silently returned to my seat next to Michael in the living room, uncertain if Matt and Jess had even noticed my absence.

"Would you like a drink?" Michael murmured beside me.

"Yes."

I didn't want a drink, but I wanted to move; the memory of the last few moments needed to be pushed out of my mind. I wanted the poisonous, bitter man Jacob became before my eyes to melt back to the gentle boy I had glimpsed.

"How long have you known Jacob?" I asked Michael's back as he pulled a beer from the fridge.

"For as long as I can remember." Michael shrugged without turning to me. "Coke?"

"Yes, please." He met my eyes as he handed me the soda. "Were your families close?"

"We were in the same social circle. Jacob and my brother were best friends."

"Oh, where is your brother now?"

"He passed away about four years ago in a car accident." There was an emotionless slack to Michael's face as he spoke of his brother.

"I'm so sorry," but my words were vacant. My mind was spinning through the ghost story Matt and Joey had shared that first night. One brother killed his best friend and went insane.

"So, the story is even lore around here." There was a twisted laugh in his tone as he assessed my expression. "I'm not sure what version you heard, but Jacob was not the driver; Ethan was."

"Jacob blames himself." It wasn't a question; it was an assertion.

"Everyone blames themselves; that's what death does. I could've told him not to go out, Jacob could've withheld the keys, the club could've cut him off, but Ethan drove, and Ethan wrapped the car around a pole. He could have killed Jacob alongside him."

"I think Jacob wishes he had." It was a twisted thing to say, but it fell out before I put much thought into it.

"I believe that, too."

"Do you blame Jacob?"

Michael took a long sip from his beer as he studied me. "Not for Ethan's death."

"But you blame him for other things?"

"No one's hands are clean around here. If yours are, I suggest you run away like your friend Joey." He swiftly turned and returned to the living room.

The interaction was coarse and rubbed against my previous impression of Michael. It felt much more like Jacob's mind-scrambling interactions. As my eyes followed Michael to the living room, I let them flip to Matt and Jess. They seemed young and pure compared to the rest of the place. Would Jess be the next to reveal his caustic side that Rigby seemed to foster?