Fear Awakened [Jonathan Crane / Scarecrow]

008

"Do you understand now?"

Truthfully, Jonathan found himself more confused than he had been, just moments before.

"What," he swallowed thickly and cleared his throat, attempting to clear his head despite the close proximity Jane still maintained, "what exactly am I to understand from that?"

He was not dense - far from it, actually; what he happened to be was cautious, cagey even.

In seventeen years, he could not remember a single person touching him in a simultaneously intentional and kind fashion. He could not readily recall a memory in which a touch had been pleasant.

Neither his mother or father had held him, according to Granny's infinite retellings of his infancy, and the only memories of touch from old woman herself were those of being stricken.

And then, with no warning that he had picked up on, there was this.

It was enough to stun even His voice into silence, leaving only Jonathan to process what was happening without any guidance.

"I can't just act like you don't matter," she explained, obviously having difficulty with maintaining eye contact as her formerly pink tinged cheeks turned full on red.

Crystal blue eyes blinked at her from behind heavy frames.

He was going to need her to speak with absolutely no vagueness, to leave him no room whatsoever to misinterpret what it was she was attempting to convey.

"I... Like you, Jonathan," she finally stammered. "I like you, a lot."

He shuddered slightly at the phrasing. It was all too reminiscent of the first and only time he had heard those words.

Sherry and her drones had formed a plan to tease Jonathan with the possibility of being anything less than universally hated, presumably for nothing more than their own amusement.

"I really like you, Johnny," she'd said, smiling that million dollar smile.

He'd believed her - what desperately lonely fourteen year old would not want to believe it? He hadn't known her, then.

Needless to say, Sherry and Bo had enjoyed quite the laugh at his gullibility and willingness to believe a girl like her could ever fancy someone as obviously subhuman as him.

And it's happening again. We can't trust her, Johnny.

Ah, there He was.

Jonathan didn't want to believe the voice. After all, he felt he had some knowledge of who Jane was, even if his approximation of friendship lacked the usual warmth and trade off that others seemed to achieve with such ease.

"Transference," he said simply, still keenly aware that there were mere inches between their faces.

"W-what?"

"The redirection to a substitute. The shifting of emotions that originate from repressed stimuli or experiences to someone suitable in the present," he explained, the textbook definition easily returning to the forefront of his mind.

"You pity me. Maybe you even feel you need to protect me, and so, you're confusing it with some type of romantic infatuation," he continued as this was the only rational explanation in his mind.