A/N: Next chapter. It's getting there.
Nineteen. Chris looked proudly at the row of trophies lining the shelf, absent-mindedly wiping his hands on the rag he'd just used to polish them all to a gleaming finish. Chris was one of the few people who'd actually be happy to call themselves a jock. He liked the fact that every time he tried his hand at a new sport, he managed to succeed at said new sport. Smiling in satisfaction Chris lifted up the latest addition to his collection. A basketball trophy, proclaiming him UCLA's player of the season. Checking it for fingerprints he admired the tiny basketball playing man before carefully placing it back in it's prime spot on the shelf.
Chris glanced at Jake's side of the room. Compared to Chris' clothes and paper strewn side Jake's half of the cramped space was unnaturally neat. His books were stacked neatly by his computer and his bed would have had hospital corners if Chris hadn't managed to talk him out of that by their sophomore year. No trophies adorned Jake's bookshelf. Just actual books and a framed picture of his family, that Chris picked up to admire deciding that Jake's little sister looked very cute in it. A thought which he would never mention to Jake, seen as how he liked his body parts where he could find them.
Chris smiled at the thought of Jake being violent. The boy couldn't even rip it up on the basketball court let alone beat the crap out of him in a fist fight. The thought of Jake actually forming a fist and using it to actually punch someone was so ludicrous to Chris that he almost laughed out loud. All this meant that when Jake walked through the door cradling his fist in his hand Chris' first thought was that he'd accidentally punched a wall.
"What the hell?" Chris' astonished voice froze Jake in his tracks. He looked up from his dazed contemplation of his sneakers to see his best friend stood in the middle of the room holding the photo of his family in one hand and a polish covered rag in the other.
"You're getting trophy polish on my picture." Jake observed stupidly. Chris looked down and irritably threw the frame onto Jake's bed whilst hurrying forward to stand in front of his friend.
"Jake? You look like hell, what happened?" The concern in Chris' voice made Jake flinch guiltily. He'd been planning just to blow off his friend's queries till the morning.
"Me and Dawn were attacked. Some guy trying to mug us." Jake held up a hand at Chris' shocked indrawn breath. "We're fine don't worry about it. Dawn went a bit nuts and jumped the guy," Jake paused and was rewarded with an expectant silence rather than the sarcastic remark he'd expected. "He knocked her out for a minute and while he was looking at her I managed to knock him out."
"You hit him?" Chris' incredulous voice nearly made Jake laugh.
"Had to, right?"
"Well, yeah, sure. You okay about it?" Chris asked, shuffling awkwardly on his feet.
"Jeez, Chris. I'm a pacifist not a moron. I knew I had to hit the guy so I did. No big deal, right?" Chris was looking at him oddly and Jake realised that he probably sounded slightly crazy. He dropped heavily onto his bed and threw his head into his hands. "You knocked guys out before, haven't you?" Chris settled himself on his bed directly opposite Jake and nodded. "How far did you…I mean to say… How much…" Jake drew in a deep, shaky breath. "When you punched them how far did they move?" he rushed out.
"You mean other than downwards to the floor?" Jake nodded hesitantly. "Well I don't know. Maybe about a couple feet if that. Not too far. I'm not some Mr Muscle or anything." Chris watched Jake carefully noticing the way his skin paled considerably, presumably that wasn't the answer he'd wanted. "When you punched the guy did he go further than a couple of feet, Jake?" Jake's eyes flew to meet Chris' and he was taken aback by the fear in them. "Because if he did it was probably only adrenalin that made you punch him that hard. You said he pushed Dawn right? Well you were probably pissed then. You know defending your girl's honour and everything."
Jake stood unsteadily, his eyes fixed on Chris' trophy shelf. "Adrenalin, right." he sounded unconvinced. His hand reached over Chris' bed to pluck the latest trophy from the shelf where he observed it with uncharacteristic ferocity. "New trophy?" Chris nodded, slightly disturbed at his friend's behaviour and making a definite vow to never tell him how cute his little sister was. "Basketball. You know I've never played basketball." Chris nodded again. He did know and he'd always thought it weird if only because most American boys would have at least have played in gym class. "Could never do gym class. Had advanced algebra." Chris nodded once again beginning to feel like a marionette being explained things he already knew by a slightly insane puppeteer who didn't have any other skills other than being able to nod the puppet's head. "Lets go play basketball." Jake said decidedly, setting the trophy down heavily.
Chris' worry evaporated at the idea of being able to play basketball with his best friend. "Sure! Cool." he replied enthusiastically before catching sight of his troubled friend. "This isn't one of those 'brush with death now wish to live' experiences is it?" Chris' cajoling was rewarded with a brief smile and a shrug.
"Maybe. You want to play or not?" Chris stared at his friend as he stripped of his shirt in favour of a t-shirt.
"Okay." Chris murmured slowly lifting his jacket and following his friend out of the room for what promised to be an interesting game.
Jake was silent as they strode down to the basketball court, the only sound in the hallway the dull thud of rubber soled shoes on the floor. As they rounded a corner into the court Chris grabbed Jake by the shoulder spinning his roommate to face him. The predatory expression plastered on Jake's normally innocent face made Chris back off casting a wary look at his friend. Like an animal who'd successfully stopped a new threat Jake merely turned back to the court. "Wait! Jake man!" Chris dodged forward planting himself directly in front of Jake, ignoring every instinct in him that was screaming for him to just run. "What is up with you? I really think that you just need to lie down and maybe have some chicken soup."
The animalistic sheen in Jake's eyes vanished for the moment. "Chicken soup?" he asked his eyebrow quirked quizzically.
"My mom always gives it to me when I'm ill." Chris shrugged helplessly.
"I'm not ill. I just want to play some basketball." Jake answered as he walked purposefully around Chris and over to the rack of balls the other side of the court.
"Right." Chris drew out the word, still unnerved by his friend's behaviour. He had half a mind to go and call Dawn, see if she could talk some sense into him. "Man, obviously you are seriously freaked out by something." enunciated Chris his hands spread out before him giving him the mad impression that he was talking down a potential suicide victim. "I don't know what…" The force of the basketball hitting his chest knocked the rest of the sentence away as Chris fell back heavily onto the highly polished floor.
Dazedly looking up from his sprawled position on the court Chris saw Jake watching him, a mixture of anger and horror on his face.
It was like the ball had flown from his hands on a pre-set target to Chris' chest. Jake took in the crumpled form of his friend, remembering the similar position that his and Dawn's attacker had occupied. Something in the back of his mind was whispering something about going in to finish him off whilst he was incapacitated but another, larger and altogether saner sounding part of his brain was telling him to go and check that his friend was okay. Jake did neither of these things, ignoring everything that was rushing through his brain in a cacophony of sound and colour, just collapsing to the floor and burying his head in his hands.
"I'm some sort of freak." The words, though muffled by Jake's hands came out like an anguished plea. Chris shifted his position on the court, trying to make himself more comfortable and able to run like hell in one movement.
"I'm not exactly inclined to disagree with you." He'd meant it to sound like a joke, to lighten the mood in the already too dim basketball court but the words fell heavily, soundly desperately serious in the echoing room.
"He flew ten feet, Chris." Jake whispered making Chris strain to catch them, the words already softened by the hands still fiercely gripping his face.
"The attacker?" Chris asked, already knowing the answer. "Jeez man I already told you what I think about that. Adrenalin." He would have rolled his eyes if the situation hadn't seemed so dire. Then he realised Jake's face was still buried in is hands and so couldn't see him and rolled his eyes anyway.
"Then what about the basketball?" Chris' mind shot around for an explanation to this apparent non-sequitar when he realised that Jake meant the one that had been thrown at his chest and now sat serenely a few feet away.
Chris struggled to his feet and walked over to the offending object. He picked it up, running his fingers over it in his accustomed way. He ambled over to Jake, who still lay in what appeared to Chris to be the foetal position, looking altogether more vulnerable than he had ever seen the normally self-sufficient boy. "This ball." Jake's eyes shot upward to where Chris held the ball mere inches from his face. Chris could see the self-restraint acting in Jake that stopped him skidding backwards and away from the ball. "So you threw it hard, so what?"
Jake continued to stare at the ball and him, his eyes wide and fearful. "It wasn't normal." He practically spat the words out.
"No," said Chris, shaking his head and bringing the ball to his chest where he cradled it. "tossing a basketball with intent of bodily harm against your best friend is not normal. The force you threw it with? Above average but not exactly record breaking, man. I've seen guys in games throw it harder than that just because they're pumped up with adrenalin. Adrenalin. It's all about the adrenalin." Chris sounded the last word taking in the change in Jake's composure as he spoke.
He seemed to uncurl from himself, the lost look in his eyes being replaced with something that more resembled the Jake that Chris knew and well, liked a hell of a lot. As Chris finished enunciating the word adrenalin for the fourth time Jake stood up, seeming to rise from the floor with uncharacteristic grace as though the animalistic qualities that Chris had witnessed earlier had lent him some new, better bearing.
"I guess you're right." he said smiling self-depreciatingly. "God, I'm cracking up." he added running a hand over his eyes. "Thanks, man." he held out a hand as he turned to his friend. Chris smiled and shifted the basketball to grasp Jake's hand.
"I really feel this is more of a hugging moment but I don't want to ruin our completely masculine image." Chris joked.
"Man, I think you did that last Halloween when you dressed in drag." Laughed Jake. His laughter faded as he glanced at the basketball nestled in Chris' arms. Chris followed his gaze.
"Ah no. Come on man just leave it! I thought we'd fully agreed on adrenalin as the culprit?" Jake's eyes didn't leave the ball, his mind seemingly miles away.
"Just let me try something." He dragged the ball away from a complaining Chris and turned to the wall. Plain white wall was mottled dark grey with shadow spread out before him. Jake stared at it, picking an exact point that he wanted the ball to hit. His rational mind was screaming that he, one of the most un-athletic boys in school could never hit that point but something else inside him told him that he could hit it. That he could do so much more if he just tried. So with a mighty heave that encompassed all of Jake's strength, he threw the ball.
The sound of shattering plaster was deafening in the practically silent room, the force of it nearly sending Chris back to his position on the floor he'd only recently vacated. He stared in fascinated horror at the ident on the wall, bizarrely reminded of a chemistry book that thinking back shouldn't have left such a large dent on their cheap dorm room wall. Plaster dust rose around the pair as the basketball rolled to a serene stop by Jake's feet. Ridiculously Chris tried to think up an excuse to tell his coach explaining how a basketball shaped hole had appeared in the court wall at one in the morning.
Jake turned slowly to stare at Chris, his eyes dead in an already too pale face. He opened his mouth to speak but the words seemed to become lost in the stifling silence of the room. He tried again, producing an inarticulate moan. Breathing jerkily he backed away from Chris, his feet stumbling over themselves in his haste, almost falling as he collapsed against the wall, inches from the dent that he himself had created. His mouth opened again and this time words, barely loud enough to pass through the newly enlarged space between the two best friends, were uttered. "That wasn't normal."
