Duplicity [p.h]

chapter fifteen || just questionable taste, then

hey lmao sorry i know this isn't an eric fic allow me to explain myself. we're almost done with him, i promise. the dude is important for jax's emotional growth and i wanted to write about occasionally shitty people doing occasionally shitty things. add some depth, yknow. also, as a heads up, this is a project my partner suggested i take up again to help me recover from a recent 4 month depressive episode so updates will be slow. sorry to disappoint. i guess it's also an avenue for me to write more than a happy ending love story (although i am intending on a happy ending dw peter will return). shorter than my updates used to be, but i suppose i have to start somewhere.

HE WASN'T THERE.

As soon as my legs and my feet solidified, reliable enough to bear the weight of both my body and whatever was left of the truth serum, I hunted for him with a quiet, seething determination I had only ever witnessed in wildlife documentaries where the predators had gone hungry for too long. Every corner, every hidden stairwell, every out-of-service floor of the Merciless Mart — I searched everywhere. And yet, none of the faces in the multi-faction crowds were the one I longed most to see.

He wasn't here.

"Four!"

There stood my old instructor: tense scowl, black jacket and all, he leaned his shoulder against the wall. He was brooding, as always, but almost blurry from the string of frustrated tears I furiously blinked back. His eyes darted around the room, though his chin was still, as though he was made of marble — or, no, like he was a very real and bored model entering the eighth hour of sitting for a portrait. Then, his gaze fell on me.

He uncrossed his arms (and gave his flexed biceps a break) as I pushed toward him through the masses of people. I prayed that we might leave the care of this Faction soon. I struggled to fathom how the Candor could go about their days so mundanely, chattering about in the lobby where not even two hours ago I nearly had my deepest secrets ripped from the deepest crevices of my mind.

"Jax? You look... what, did Edward lose another eye, or something?" I didn't answer until my feet jolted to a stop in front of him.

"Where is he?"

"Edward?" Four drummed his fingers on his chin. "I actually saw him a few days ago, funny enough, but at this point you probably have a better idea than I do."

"Obviously not Edward." Four clamped his eyes shut. "Sorry," I muttered. "Peter. I meant Peter."

"Oh." Four's eyebrows raised as he tilted his chin up and away from me. "That would explain it." His eyes darted around the lobby again, my head jerking left and right in a futile attempt to follow them.

"What? What do you see?"

"No, nothing." Four turned back towards me, his expression stoic as ever but somehow soft, apologetic. There was no pity, though; he looked at me with a strange, familiar sense of understanding. "Nothing. I - well, I can tell you he's not here."

I squared my back with the wall, settling the back of my head against the cold black marble next to my old instructor. Maybe Four was onto something, leaning against walls all the time. It was a far cry from comfortable, but my legs ached, my head ached, my heart ached. It was the support that I needed. "I thought as much," I sighed. "I was just hoping... never mind." My gaze dropped to my feet, and my stomach churned as if it might crawl up my throat and soon follow suit.

"You miss him." I felt Four press his back to the wall and shimmy closer to me. I lacked the good spirits to tease him for it.

"Of course." I tilted my chin back up towards Four, who studied me with curious intent. "Of course I miss him."