Images overlay themselves in front of his eyes on a constant basis.
Like how sometimes, when his hand is against his face, there are tears and loose flesh and so much blood he's glad he's wearing gloves but at the same time he's also very disappointed because even though bodily fluids are the most disgusting things people have yet to excrete, his must be much better to touch simply because he's not really a person; he can't be. In this picture, there isn't any fear in his eyes; he kind of hates it because it makes him want to cry.
The other overlay he sees is him smiling; the scars under his eyse are still there but his hair isn't matted with red and drippingdrippingdripping and making him pull his hands back because of all the filthy filthy things that make him humangoblinnotsospecial. No. This time there is joy and laughter and he is telling him wonderfullhatefulawful things like how he is so happy that he's here with him, and how much he really lo__s him.
Really horrible, when things like that overlay reality. Want to-
-hurts! Hate thinking of things like that and him, missing him more because when he's gone it'll be like the first overlay and all he'll be able to think of is the second picture and miss everything he could never have.
That's why, when Edgar comes over by his own choice to watch infomercials with Nny (even though he even understands that they haven't been as good since Billy Maes died), Johnny likes to tell him as he's walking through the door that he'll kill Edgar someday.
As he gets up to make himself 'skettios, wondering a little to late if Edgar would like some to, he offers an apple instead (because they're too sweet in an acidic way and make Nny's stomach hurt; he prefers Freezies really); and as Edgar takes a bite and smiles at something Nny can't understand, Johnny tells him again that he's going to kill Edgar someday. He has to remind himself so that he won't start getting used to having the other man around.
Nowadays, though, he wonders if Edgar isn't thinking he's not serious. They've known each other for a year now and he still hasn't done anything more than add that scar on Edgar's shoulder; and really, that was an accident. He should have known better than to stop Nny from hurting himself.
Edgar didn't come over for a week; he told Nny it was simply because he couldn't drive with his arm so sore.
When he said that, it made Johnny's stomach flutter and he went and threw up for a minute or two, tears streaking down his face worse than when he watched his favorite movie.
One day, after Edgar left and said he wouldn't be by until late tomorrow because he had work, Johnny felt drawn to his old bedroom. He was pretty sure he had slept in there at one point in time, before Nail Bunny, Doughboy, or even Mr. F…..back when he used to sleep.
He blacked out for a while, awaking angry at himself and slinging the paintbrush across the room….?
The paintbrush?
Johnny looked in front of him and fell onto the floor for a bit of a rest.
A canvas……his old canvas……
With a wonderful portrait of Edgar staining it.
(So, this was a 5 minute drabble, and I'm sorrry if it's not good. It's pretty much the first fanfiction I've written in a long time and I am sorely out of shape playing other people's characters. I have been working on original stuff and it's not all that interesting to you guys so I'll shut up.
All things in here pretty much copyrighted to Jhonen Vasquez, but the scars under Edgar's eyes are credited to Zarla's Vargas.
Also, the drippingdrippingdripping part was SUPPOSED to be 12 font, 14 font, 16 font to make it stand out and make you understand how his thoughts were getting louder and LOUDER and OVERPOWERING EVERYTHING ELSE HE COULD THINK OF but nevermind that, , let's play by your formatting rules and make me repeat bolds and italics until I'm sick of them.)