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Author's Note
Word Count: 1803
TWs- Creepy clown shit
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The resonating sound of the truck door slamming shut behind him earned a quick glance over Toby's shoulder. They'd made it back "home." For once, the car ride was not silent, nor tense. They had talked and talked, discussing previously asked questions, coming up with new questions, and even laughing together. Toby had never laughed with Tim before. It ignited a fuzzy feeling trapped within his chest, which only made him laugh harder to press it back down. Even better, he could tell that Tim was amused by him the whole time... that smirk told him all he needed to know.

He and Tim walked to the front door and he listened to the faint crunch of leaves beneath their boots, exchanging a few pleased murmurs. Breaking his happy trance, the slight creak of the door on its rusted hinges as he pushed on it made his stomach drop. It wasn't locked. It wasn't even closed. He heard Tim's confused huff upon his visible hesitation in the doorway, and the strong hand that curled around his shoulder allowed him a slight sense of security.

"The door was open." Toby murmured quietly, his voice nearly a whisper, as he took a cautious step through the threshold. The house was silent, and nothing appeared to be displaced from its respective home amongst the lived-in clutter. A distant humming rang in Toby's ears, caressing the cartilage and wiggling towards his eardrums like an invasive parasite.

The hum was gentle and softly feminine, and the sound melted Toby's brain like cream. One glance towards Tim allowed Toby a fleeting sense of grounding. Tim hadn't reacted to anything out of the ordinary, so Toby concluded it was all a trick of his mind. It wasn't unusual for him to hear things that aren't there, after all.

Regardless, he could not shake the slow breath of familiarity that crept up his spine. Against his better judgment, he allowed his hands to guide him down the hall, where the humming grew louder. His feet complied to the commands of his fingertips as they brushed along the walls. Finally, his hand stopped at the bathroom door, and when he lightly pushed it open, he found that the light was off.

Flick.

Light flooded the room.

The sight that greeted Toby practically yanked the breath out of his lungs. He let out a shaky gasp, clawing to retain his composer, as his eyes fixed on the thing in the shower. Tall and spindly, with impossibly long arms that reminded him of tendrils concealed by even longer striped sleeves. Its claws scraped against the tile walls, etching the surface in their wake, like nails on a chalkboard.

With a contortionist's skill, shoved uncomfortably into the small space that was the house's walk-in shower, the creature held a maniacal grin that stretched- no. No, its grin tore across its face from ear to ear. Monochromic clown makeup painted its pasty skin, coming into cartoonish points at the corners of its mouth that only widened that haunted smile. Messy, unkempt black hair framed its white complexion, and its nose protruded awkwardly from its face, coming to a sharp point with a black spiral down to the base.

"Hello, Toby..." It spoke with its nasally, graveled voice, flashing grotesque teeth at him. Toby could not distinguish if the creature's teeth were meant to be sharp, or if they had been broken down into the yellowed candy corn-like points that glinted in the dim bathroom light. He vaguely recognized the clown, but struggled to place a name to its repulsive face. The way its eyes, adorned with nothing but a small black pupil, followed his every movement made his stomach churn.

The snapping of bones and joints as they fell back into place popped in Toby's ears. He watched as this creature unfolded, untwisted, and reassembled itself throughout its process of exiting the shower. It straightened up some, but remained hunched over as it was far too tall to stand comfortably in the room.. Toby's back pressed against the bathroom door, and his lips parted to speak, but nothing would come out. He couldn't formulate a single syllable at the sight of such a horrible monstrosity.

He vaguely recognized Laughing Jack. This wasn't the first time he'd seen it.

"Why the looooong face, Waffle House?"

Confusion clouded him for a moment too long, the nickname striking him as weird and uncharacteristic, until it was quickly replaced with a rush of panic. Laughing Jack reached out for him. His arch was bent at an odd angle before straightening out with a few sickening pops. "F-Fuck off!" Toby's jaw clenched as he scuttled backwards, his back slamming against the wall just outside of the bathroom door. He extended out to grasp hold of the doorknob but quickly drew back to find its hand had already found it.

"Why so mean to me, Toby? You shouldn't run from your friends. I only wanted to-"

A flung sound attracted both their attention. Soon enough, a knife pierced through the air and lodged into the wooden doorframe, just mere centimeters above Laughing Jack's protruding nose. Its head jerked to the side, eyes searching wildly for the source of the attack. And here, Toby found an opportunity. He wrapped his fingers around the handle of his hatchet, yanking it sternly from his belt and slinging it forward, full force. His eyelids tightened shut.

Upon impact, his stomach twisted at the sound of... wait, what was this? Peeking an eye open, because he did not hear the cracks of bone or the splurge of flesh, Toby was met with yet another sight he could not have anticipated. For a creature who had been folded into sharp corners and unnatural twists, cracking and popping just seconds before, the hatchet simply melted right through him.

He yanked it out swiftly and watched as a black, goo-like liquid strung out, attaching the blade and Laughing Jack's body by strings of the goop. It stretched towards the floorboards slowly, and the bit that remained seeped over the rusted surface, engulfing the hatchet's blade. Toby yelped, flinging the hatchet as far to the side as he could, hearing the strings snap. 

In a flash, Tim rushed forward to put himself between Toby and the clown who laughed maniacally at the whole charade. His arms extended out like a shield of defense, and the hunch of his back and shoulders reminded Toby of a wolf ready to pounce. Laughing Jack's head cocked to the side curiously, tentatively slipping out of the door frame to circle the two proxies. Tim spoke, but his words were lost to Toby's ears, and he fixed hard on the creature as it trudged down the hallway leading to the living room. "Dreadfully sorry," it began to speak again, "for my intrusion. I simply couldn't keep myself- oh, is that sugar I smell?" Its thin frame darted out of view, but Tim and Toby did not budge. Their feet felt as though they had grown roots into the floor.

Tim slowly turned to face Toby, his eyes searching for any sign of injury done onto his body, to none he found. A slow sigh of relief left him, and Toby's eyes met his. They remained for a few heartbeats too many, sarong at each other with desperate looks of confusion and bewilderment. Toby's breath was labored and his heart struggled to recover from the startle of finding LJ like that. Neither of them were scared, not even a tad bit frightened, of "LJ." Rather, they were weary towards what its presence could entail.

"Did you not hear it?" He stammered.

Tim lifted an eyebrow, as he always does.

"The humming," Toby murmured, "when we walked in."

Tim shook his head slowly. Toby sighed and brought his hands up, rubbing his face vigorously before casting his gaze down the hall. Suddenly an eruption of laughter exploded from the kitchen area, and the clatter of glass against the tile floor made the two of them stiffen. If the sound proceeded, Toby thought he might throw up on the spot. Beside him, Tim's anger came to a boil. He stalked forward, his shoulders squared, and he ripped his knife from the wall as he passed the doorway. "Stay," he bit at Toby. Despite not taking any enjoyment in being spoken to like a dog, Toby obeyed.

For a moment.

Tim disappeared around the corner and Toby shuffled his feet on the carpet. He listened to the drip of the bathroom sink, the occasional whir of wind against the window at the other end of the hall, and the muffled voices of Tim and LJ from the other. He crept down it, and peered around the corner, squinting to see into the kitchen. He really should invest in a pair of glasses.

"Can you hurry up and go back to wherever in Hell you came from?"

"Close, but not quite! Try again, Timmy!"

"What? No, listen, I don't know what you're doing here but I'm getting sick of your ass!"

"Gotta sweet tooth?" The muffin was slapped from its hand promptly. "Geez, harsh much? I'm so sorry for wanting to visit a few old friends before the end of the world... Say, where's that frowny-faced guy?"

"End of the world?" Tim sounded bewildered.

"Armageddon! Wait.. Alien invasion! No, no, that's not quite right either. Uh, right. The abyss! It's approaching!"

"You're not funny."

"Ouch. Let me put it this-a-way, Timmy Turner, you aren't going to be able to protect that little guy for much longer."

Toby caught a sharp inhale from Tim. His eyebrows furrowed and he slipped back around the corner, leaned against the wall as he strained to hear, but now his mind was elsewhere. The end of the world talk didn't bother him- after all, LJ was known to spew outlandish bullshit. But, protect him? Toby didn't need to be protected, he could fend for himself perfectly fine. He wasn't weak, he wasn't sick, and he definitely wasn't little. He stood around the same height as Tim, for fuck's sake, he just slouches! Wait, do people really think he's short?

He let out a groan and stepped out from his hiding place, no longer concealed by the wall, and made his way into the kitchen with caution. 

LJ was no longer anywhere to be seen. Where he stood there was an inky black splotch in the floor, the only thing suggesting his presence was ever legitimate at all. The puddle bubbled, as though it were simmering water, before relaxing and growing still. Toby stared at it, standing only a few steps behind Tim. Tim held the broken pieces of the jar, originally meant for the muffins, in shaky hands.