"Awwwwwwwwww Yeah~!" his signature phrase rang out loudly, as Holt jumped up excitedly hands in the air. Exactly why Jackson had chosen to transform in the downstairs bathroom:
Noise control.
Holt bit his lip forever excited anytime he got to be out. But something was wrong.
He saw that as he caught a glimpse of the wrong colors from his peripherals in the mirror. No red. No blue for that matter just.
A surprised little nerdy normy boy without his glasses.
No hang on that wasn't right.
But he was responding to his movements like any other reflection. He had to quickly look down at his arms bare and peachy to confirm, otherwise he would have thought he finally went off the deep end and was seeing Jackson everywhere. But no. He was. Well white.
At first he opened his mouth in confusion, that sort of turned to a more pissed then disgusted face.
"What. Did. You. Do." he hissed at Jackson, well rather no one. Since Jackson couldn't hear him anymore. Though sometimes Holt liked to think Jackson could.
He grit his teeth panicking, looking up his arms, and hands, then into the mirror, running his hands through his new dark brownish hair. Scared blue eyes nervously searching his form for a sign of Holtness. No face mark. No nothing. The only blue on him were Jackson's pale eyes, seeming like they stole the color from his skin. Widened further than his usual Eastern slant, as his breathing picked up trying to keep it together.
He bit his cheeks, and stumbled back to rest against the wall feeling dizzy. That idiot had screwed everything up. Only then did he notice the paper on the ground.
I AM SO SORRY.
SOMETHING WENT WRONG.
I SWEAR I WILL FIX IT.
Oh really? Pissed he picked it up crumpling it expecting it to crinkle into black from his rage. When it didn't he only got angrier, tearing it up and throwing the angry confetti at the sink.
Crossing his arms he fumed, feeling hot. Actually weirdly hot, the house was normally kind of chilly at night. But not hot enought to be Holt, because he still had normie bangs annoyingly scratching his face. Wiping them frustratedly out of the way side swept. But they kept drifting back to his forehead.
Grumbling he got some water in his hand and ran it back through his hair. Only for the hair to flop back in damp chunks. He had half a mind to chop them all off but there were no scissors in this bathroom.
Ok he was getting dizzy again and sat down on the toilet holding his head in his hands. Just. Breathing.
This better wear off. Actually. No he needed to talk to Jackson now.
Make him explain more than that crappy little note. Holt knew about the experiment, but …
He sighed, actually having a hard time blaming Jackson for once. They had the same goal on this one. And if he was in Jackson's body then Jackson must be in his. And he knew Jackson must have flipped out too, there was no way his other half was ok with this.
Angry or not he still had questions. Jackson was the smart one, he might have an idea as to why this would happen, and how temporary it was.
Oh ghoul, it had better be temporary. Holt narrowed his eyes angry again. The music not doing much to soothe him. Though these were some killer beats. He forgot he left this mix down here.
Pulling his knees up and resting against them with his arms crossed Holt tried to think for awhile. Looking up cautiously at the mirror. Still reflecting the truth of all this. It made him want to punch a wall. Or burn something. If he could burn something. Frustrated at being trapped in human form, and frustrated that even as himself he could only really scorch a few things, really. Maybe for the better. He had a few issues, and if he had Heath's never ending source of fire then he might not have a house or a school at this point. Or be locked up for more than framed graffiti.
He made a face at his reflection "I don't wanna see your ugly face." he groaned sticking his tongue at himself. Before looking at his actual body. Just about the same as his. Same size, same scars. Just not his. And not blue. A stupid normie. Still bound by music making everything worse. What was the point of being the human side if he wasn't even dominant personality? Silence was the norm, silence existed everywhere outside his safe music bubbles and he still couldn't get there.
At the same time this was the closest to meeting Jackson as he'd ever gotten.
Since he could actually touch "Jackson" now. See him, in high definition instead of a pixelated video screen. Standing up and studying himself in front of the sink. Taking off his shirt to get a better look at Jackson's torso.
Ew, ok shirt back on. Almost blinded there.
He still felt weird, like kind of uncomfortable weird. Like he was wearing old laundry, or hadn't showered in awhile or something. His skin felt wrong, and itchy. Everything was bugging him. Especially Jackson's stupid bangs.
Holt sighed standing defeatedly in front of the mirror moving his bangs out of his way and missing the asymmetry of his real face. He kind of felt like this wasn't real. And he'd pop up in his bed with his headphones nearly strangling him and Jackson pissed off at him for hogging time sleeping when they could sleep in their brain.
Something was wrong though, he was Jackson but something was missing. His face was too clear and squishy looking.
Oh right that nerd's glasses, he wasn't wearing them. And wasn't looking forward to. But they clearly weren't in here. He'd look for them later, or Jackson could. Whatever. Actually what time was it even.
He followed his wire down to his pocket finding his iCoffin checking the time, almost 2am. The night was still young. Mom was probably asleep already with ear plugs or something in. He might wait to pump things up around the house though because he wasn't sure how effective those were and didn't want to wake her when she had work in the morning.
Swiping their iCoffin screen he noticed someone had recorded something new. Seeing the bathroom and Jackson in the preview image. Wondering if it was a message from earlier he pressed play, hearing it faintly through his headphones around his neck.
"Uhhm, Trial.. 1. Attempting to.. enhance me and dual personality Holt Hyde's.. transformation by possible separation."
Jackson's nasally voice echoed in their bathroom. Continuing to watch as Jackson seemed to start transforming into him but didn't. Catching fire, bright fire. That looked hot. He saw Jackson fall to his knees, and Holt raised his eyebrows kind of concerned, if not just for their shared body.
He heard pained noises, and pulled a headphone up to his ear to listen better to Jackson wailing in pain. Smoke rising up, as the camera only had a view above counter. Couldn't see anything he was doing. Just, smoke and awful noises. A plume came up filling the room and the fire detector went off for awhile. Holt pursed his lips in concern as the video captured a smokey bathroom for another 30 minutes before it ran out of phone memory. Mostly just skipping through that part in case anything interesting happened.
As interesting as it was, it wasn't helpful. Though hinted Jackson's glasses were probably still in the bathroom somewhere.
He was tapping his foot on the floor now, listening intensely to the music and thinking, or trying to think. He wanted to help but wasn't sure how. Holt tapped faster looking at his reflection, wincing, geez he had to get used to seeing that.
Then his heart picked up. Reminding himself not to think like that. Do not get used to seeing that. He reminded himself. It'll wear off or Jackson'll fix it.
He felt bad because looking at his new face he looked like such a wimp. He looked like a scared wimp baby girl. And he hated it because he was the embodiment of confidence. And right now he didn't look confident.
Screw that. He was Holt Hyde. Shakily standing up holding his head. And he'd rock whatever he looked like. His fashion sense proved that. Putting a particular confidence building work-out playlist on his iCoffin to give him extra confidence, he upped the volume before turning off the bathroom radio. Noticing the kitchen light on he decided on a snack before tearing Jackson a new one.
It still felt wrong to walk around like this, he looked anxiously towards the stairs like he was going to get caught. He was Jackson listening to full blast beats after all, and what if Mom was still running around.
Something told him Mom couldn't know.
The house seemed dead enough though he couldn't know for sure without really listening. He didn't want to break up the beat though. Dancing and lightly singing along as he went to check for his favorite donut on the counter he found it missing. Holt scarfed down Jackson's in revenge finding it more pleasant than he remembered the last time he revenge ate.
Running upstairs he paused at his doorway. If his stomping up the starwell didn't wake her up she must be under deep and/or using her noise cancellers again.
Going to the bathroom he smeared some hair junk on his head to smooth the style upwards. Jackson's hair sticking to something a little more his style. At least it was out of his face. He checked the floor for Jackson's glasses, finding them eventually by the trashcan, and sticking them on his shirt instead of putting them on.
It was an improvement. No glasses, better hair. As much as he wanted to go buy econo-sized blue facepaint he just had to man up. Clicking his fingers at his reflection he left the bathroom still weirded out by his pinky hands.
Slamming the door to his room he grabbed his laptop and hunkered down on their bed for a talk.
Setting his webcam to record he just winged it.
"Heeeey. Dude." he started scratching his head feeling odd seeing himself as Jackson in the video too. "Incase you were wondering I got the same issue… that is assuming you're uh.. me right now!" he smiled brightly and nervously.
"So you better fix it" he raised his eyebrows smiling in a threatening manner "Because I ain't getting stuck as this dorkus any longer than I need to, kapeesh?"
He cleared his throat "I'm assuming Mom doesn't know, since she's not fussin' all over us right now. Lemme know if you already told anyone, because I don't wanna end up on some dumb gossip blog y'know what I'm sayin'?"
He leaned back into the pillows looking at the ceiling trying to figure out what else to say.
"I don't like this and I don't think you do either. I feel. Weird." he had taken on a more serious tone, but it was just Jackson "Weiiird because I'm stuck as a pink squishy baby who doesn't know what he's doing when he decides to EXPERIMENT on us." he huffed punching a pillow. Before grabbing a couple of things he found on their bed and throwing them at the wall. A paper back and shoes weren't going to break if thrown after all.
He crossed his arms, getting kind of heated again. Holt kept his fists clenched the whole time, knuckles white and tense.
Just sitting there on camera looking angry and staring at the wall.
"You gotta fix this even if it means breaking into the school. Seriously, I'll do it if you're too scared to. You're the smart one" he grabbed a pillow squishing it and punching it distractedly "You should have thought this through more."
Now he was just angry at Jackson in general.
"I know I was alright with you tryin' this.
But now I'm just hatin' we have this problem at all." Eyes flicking around to look at nothing in particular "I hate being stuck with you Jackie. And I hate being stuck in you right now."
Shakey breath.
"I always hate being stuck in you, but this is worse! Because I don't even get my own body now!"
Which was true, the fact that they transformed was always a good reminder of Holt's identity, that he wasn't just a classic case of multiple personality disorder that he was a real person with his own looks and life. Not just a case of the crazies.
"It's stupid enough trying to share literally everything with you. Or tryin' to find a ghoul who's cool with only a half at that! You scared off the only ghoul willing to take both sides of this crazy train by making her decide between us!" he grumped.
Then a long dramatic sigh.
Sometimes he felt like considering apologising for venting at Jackson. But naw.
"If we have to go to school like this you better not wear your dorky glasses on me." he hissed before ending the video.
Grumpy from that he threw all the pillows off his bed before stomping over to Crossfade's cage and pulling his chameleon out of his tank.
"Why're you all green buddy you know it's meee" he whined stroking him. Crossfade's opposable eyes scanned him and remained on Jackson's color compliment.
"Aw why you gotta be like that little guy."
Crossfade walked along his finger then grasped at nothing in particular with mitten hands.
"Yeah I gotcha…"
Messing around with his pet helped at least he felt cool enough to change back anyway. Putting Crossfade back in until he climbed away onto a branch. Plopping back in front of the laptop "All yours JackJack." he mumbled.
Holt took a deep breath before turning off the music and simultaneously popping off his headphones, trying to relax for the transformation. The less they struggled the less it hurt.
…
…
"Ummm" Holt opened his eyes. Headphones still in hand.
The act of seeing them there soundless set his heart pounding and his stomach turning.
"What?!"
He flailed in a sort of shock-horror, dropping them and listening to the faint ringing in his ears; the white noise of the silent house. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears from both the clarity of no music and his panic, cheeks feeling warm and hot.
"Crap I killed Jackson." he mumbled at first sort of joking with the thought, then the reality of even thinking such a statement. What if he did?!
He couldn't do this on his own, he couldn't figure out how to fix their current situation much less succeed academically long term.
Mom would resent him forever if he was the only one left.
He wanted his own place but not like this.
His first instinct was to put the music back on immediately, but ever since their trigger had changed from night and day, he honestly hadn't heard real silence in what felt like forever.
He forgot what prolonged quietness sounded like. Rather didn't sound like.
There was the off chance, whatever that potion did, had made their brain forget a trigger or something. What if he was bound to his beats as soon as he put back on a killer playlist?
So for 10 minutes he laid back and listened to their empty house.
Until he got too anxious to see if Jackson was ok.
After all, if he was gone, and only the "evil" one remained everyone would jump to conclusions. Chewing his lip he opened up FrightTunes and double clicked a playlist. A party mix.
Mumbling a thanks to the heavens as he put his hands to his head in relief, catching fire as per usual. He could feel himself blacking out, his mind submerging before he could think further into the trigger righting itself and what that ever that implied for the near future.