"…and so if you open to chapter thirteen…" the professor cut himself off as Joe shut the door behind him.
"Well, well, hello Mr. Hardy. Welcome back."
Joe nodded to the curious eyes that turned on him, clenching his hands into fists to hide the sweat coating them.
Stop looking at me stop damnit I'm not a freak stop looking at me like I'm one just leave me alone why can't you just leave me alone…
Like so many other times before, Joe suddenly wished Frank was beside him. But his brother had been gone for days again, and the younger Hardy knew now it was useless to try and get him to appear on demand.
"Take a seat. Glad to have you with us."
Joe just nodded and walked quickly to the back of the room, sliding in an empty desk beside a blond who flashed him a gentle smile. Joe didn't respond, but stared at her a moment to long, causing her to look away uncomfortably.
Vanessa.
The younger Hardy stared blankly at the professor, but his mind wandered to his girlfriend—or was she his ex-girlfriend?—the second girl he had ever loved.
Loved.
I'm sure she's moved on, sure she wasn't going to wait for you, especially a psycho like you…
I saw Iola.
Iola.
Have you forgotten her, Hardy? A blonde comes along and BAM! no more dead girlfriend! Who do you think you're fooling? You're a murderer. You killed the two people you loved most.
Slowly, Joe rolled up his shirtsleeve, revealing the stitches that spelled the name—the painful name, the beloved name: Frank.
The gasp beside him caused Joe to yank his sleeve back into place, but not before the blonde beside him had seen the violence he'd inflicted on himself.
Oh well, just one more person who knows how crazy you are.
Joe suddenly, desperately, wanted to flea the class; the girl beside him, the intense fluorescent lights, the professor's endless, droning speeches he couldn't focus on.
Frank. I need you. Please…
Remember…
Joe jumped—it was as if his brother had hissed something in his ear
Did he?
…I'm with you…
"Mr. Hardy?"
Every eye in the room was on him. Joe hadn't realized he was swaying, and he suddenly felt grateful for the solidness of the desk in front of him; if it wasn't there, he was afraid he'd slump forward in a dead faint.
"Are you all right?"
"Fine," he gasped, too quickly. "May I…be excused?"
The professor nodded, frowning in concern. Joe bolted from the classroom, shutting the door too quickly and loudly behind him.
"What do you think you're doing?"
The younger Hardy whirled around; his brother was leaning on the wall beside him.
"What are you doing? Popping ideas in my head?"
"I was trying to help you."
"Thanks a lot," he mumbled, heading away down the hall.
"You can't run forever, Joe," Frank called after him.
Joe didn't answer: he already knew.
