Anti felt like shit.

He needed... something. He just didn't know what. He was antsy all the time, constantly pacing around or bouncing his legs. He still wasn't sure if Ethan found it annoying or endearing just yet, though he was sure to find out soon enough. Probably the former.

He sighed and ran a hand down his face, leaning his head back against the couch with a long, exasperated groan. He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again. Would doing that enough bring Ethan back home so the blue haired boy could talk with me and distract me from this strange unsettling feelings crap? He shook his head. Ethan was the cause of this "strange unsettling feelings crap", why would he be a good distraction from it?

He shifted and flopped over to lay on the couch with another annoyed groan. He then sat up and his eyes shifted across the room. His mismatched eyes (being alone he gave his guise a rest and even though he was finding his natural appearance worse and worse to look at and stand without some sort of negative thoughts it was much easier than holding up a guise all day) soon landed on a pile of mismatched junk papers that still needed to be moved to the recycling. Nearby said pile of papers was a cup full of pens and pencils.

He stood up and before he knew it Anti was in front of the pens and pencils, holding a sheet of paper, which was completely blank on one side, in his hands. He sighed and stared down at them. Could I really just leave like that? He thought, eyes shifting between the paper, the pens, and finally the door before repeating. He made a small frustrated noise and decided that yes, he was going to leave. He was going to write a note and then leave.

Though... he wasn't sure why he felt he needed to write a note to justify his departure...

Anti shrugged and grabbed a black pen before going back toward the couch and coffee table. He smiled and sat, placing the page on his knee and beginning to write, frowning when he realized he was very rusty. He couldn't remember how to spell some words, and his letters seemed to look wrong... He made sure to say the words aloud as he wrote them, just in case.

"Dear Ethan... no, uh... just Ethan. Ethan, I regret... regret..? I don't know how to spell that... I am sad to say... I have to leave. I don't know if I'll ever come back... hm... Thank you? Yeah, thank you for helping me and... housing? And housing me and dealing with me... uh... This is my goodbye..."

He paused before signing, wondering if he should add what he wished to add. He frowned in agitation. Why was writing a simple note so hard? He made a small sound in the back of his throat, almost a growl, before writing it down. He knew he'd end up returning and regretting if he didn't.

"I'm sorry... Jack"

Anti smiled as he wrote out the name he'd made up for Ethan. He'd grown to enjoy hearing that name- his name- fall from the blue boys lips. He frowned when he thought of Darks reaction to such a... such a human name. They weren't human, he wasn't human. Anti frowned and ripped up the note, before tossing the ripped pieces in the trash. He growled and stalked to the door.

He held himself back from looking at the room. He knew if he did he wouldn't leave. And he needed to leave. He had to. He looked down at himself and nearly face-palmed. He was wearing Ethan's clothes, the clothes the other male had found him in being dirty and in need of a wash. He clenched his eyes shut and marched to the room where he knew his clothes awaited.

He grabbed them and slipped them on as fast as he could, already feeling the need to stay. A strange feeling centering itself in his chest making him want to cry and stay and leave and beg all at the same time. He hated it.

Anti passed through the kitchen on his way out, his eyes lingering on the knives. He could take one with him, relieve some stress on his way back home... He grabbed the largest one and hoped Ethan wouldn't mind. Anti then proceeded to leave, and he didn't once look back. Or at least... not until he was out of the building, free of Ethan's home, his old hallway, free of the shaky small compartment that had to be magical in some way because it changed locations based on a button. He was out.

And the feeling on his chest was gnawing at him.

He palmed at his chest, kneading it softly. A frown settled in his face as he fingers the hilt if the knife in his sweater pocket. Anti made sure to be watching everyone around him, hood pulled up so no one could see his face, his hideous, inhuman face. A soft growl rumbled inside his throat as his eyes landed on someone. A weakling, walking with a limp. They were dressed poorly, clothes in a similar state to his own, torn apart and worn out, but much dirtier.

A smile stretched across his lips as he followed the man. He slipped into an alley behind him, and watched as the other leaned against the wall as stared at him. This was going to make him feel better. This was something he knew how to do.

"I don't got no moneys, man," the man said, hunds motioning across his dirty form, "I ain't got nothin'," he said with a slight waver to his voice as Anti continued to watch him from behind his hood. He smiled as the guy rolled his eyes and turned his head. Anti took a step forward, his eyes letting off a soft yet menacing green glow. The man didn't appear to see it. He giggled, his voice changing pitches as he got even closer.

The man finally took notice, eyes going wide in fear. A surge of power swept through the inhuman monster. His face nearly split in two as he stepped into the man's space, trapping him against the wall.

"You do have... something," Anti breathed out, his form glitching slightly as his eyes glowed. The man shuddered and pressed himself appears close to the wall as he dared. Anti's smile grew.

"Wh-what do I have, man?" the man's voice came out shaky and fearful, "Look man this isn't cool..."

"You have life," Anti said softly, a giggle leaving his lips. He pushed his hood back so the man would see his face, and his smile stretched across his face too far, too wide. The strangers eyes widened in feat and Anti laughed as he held up his knife, his glow glinting off it in a crude light. He brought the knife close to the man's face.

"And I plan on taking it," he said, his mouth next to the man's ear as he slowly slid his knife across the man's throat, pushing it deeper the farther he went. A sick smile spread across his lips as he watched the blood run down the man's already soiled outfit. He stepped back to watch once his knife was through, his smile fading as the image before him flickered.

Instead of the stranger he had cornered in the alley, he saw Ethan. Instead of large dirty hands clawing at his throat, he saw smaller, cleaner, bloody hands. Instead of dark curly hair, he saw blue hair, matted to his forhead.

Instead of fear in the man's dark brown eyes, he saw betrayal and hatred in a set of ever changing green-blue eyes.

He stepped back in shock, the knife clattering to the ground as his mouth opened in shock. His stomach twisted and and his heart shook. It was impossible, he couldn't have killed Ethan... he couldn't have.

"Ethan?" he managed to choke out, his voice small and strained. Those blue-green eyes stared at him, bored into his soul. And then they were gone, replaced by dead brown eyes. The proper image faded back in, but Anti found no satisfaction staring at the now corpse. He was shaking, staring. Relief filled him that it wasn't Ethan, but it did nothing to stop the feelings, the strange emotions bubbling up inside him.

He slowly backed away, picking the knife up from where it fell, before running down the alley and opening a portal. He jumped through and hoped this would be enough to make everything stop and go back to how it was.

He arrived to the place he'd called him for many a year. It was quiet, as to be expected when one thought of the time, most of his 'friends' most likely asleep as they were more nocturnal. But it didn't feel like home anymore. Something in him yearned to go back to Ethan. To go back to the small home he'd been in for the past two, maybe three weeks. He almost did too, but a shocked, deep voice stopped him.

"Anti?"

...

Ethan walked into his apartment with a smile on his face. Today hadn't been the best day at work, but he knew he had someone to come home to. Even though that made it sound like they were in a relationship, which they weren't, Ethan still enjoyed the thought. He had a friend to come home to, someone who cared. His smile had only continued to grow the closer he'd gotten to his home, and yet as soon as he stepped foot into his humble abode something felt... off.

His smile slipped from his face when he didn't see Jack on the couch, nor could he hear him in the kitchen or bathroom. Ethan's frown grew when he got no reply when he called out. He shrugged his coat off and slipped off his shoes before making his way to the kitchen, just incase. Panic began to settle in when he noted one of his knives missing from the knife block. He swallowed and grabbed a pan as he walked through the rest of his small apartment.

When he got back to the small living room his arms fell to his sides, and the pan slipped from his fingers. A pen sat at the coffee table. His eyes caught a piece of white in his garbage can. There were large pieces of paper with a choppy writing scribbled across them.

Ethn,
i am sad to say i hav to leve. i dont know if il evr com bak.
thnk you for helping me and hosing me and deling with me.
this is my godby.
im sory
Jack

He blinked as he tried to decipher the messy writing, many words misspelled, or at the very least missing a letter or two. Some letters were backwards. It looked like a young child had written it... though it also looked like it was a long thought out process, whoever wrote it wanting it to look as nice as it could. He stared at the words spread across four different pieces of paper before him.

When it finally clicked in his mind what was written out he sat down heavily on the couch, Jacks bed still set up, smile long gone. He swallowed around a thickness in his throat and felt tears pressing at his eyes as he stared at the note, vision getting steadily blurrier and blurrier.

Jack was gone.