Jim had figured out what the problem was: Carl was a psychopath. A psychopath who was heavily obsessed with Seb. It was the only logical explanation, really, and Jim felt a bit sorry for him. Perhaps he wanted to get Sebastian to like him, but he wasn't to the point of threatening people. Carl was ambitious, Jim would give him that, but the important question still stood- was he clever enough for his ambition to stand for anything? Jim, too, was ambitious, at least, he thought, but he was careful. He planned, he plotted. He didn't lure people into his home and then threaten them. That was really quite reckless of Carl, in Jim's opinion. And, in all honesty, he still didn't believe Carl'd do another thing. He was always a pushover, always nervous. There was no way another wrong word would escape his lips. Jim was practically untouchable, now, or so he liked to think. That's why the events that followed over the next few weeks were so surprising.
During English, Carl tripped, nearly driving his pencil into Jim's chest. Social Studies, he knocked his chair out from under him, which wouldn't have been too odd had he not found a tack right next to his head. In maths nothing dangerous happened, though he was pretty sure Carl and his friends were making fun of Jim in the back of the room. Science, he found acidic chemicals splashed on his face. It stung a bit, but Jim had gotten lucky, and it hadn't gotten into his eyes, nose, or mouth. In P. E., he was hit in the head by a hard-thrown basketball and nearly got a concussion. And in Art, he had been holding something for Carl to cut, only to almost have parts of his fingers get cut with it- actually, he had a slice on his thumb, but it was nearly worse. He was beginning to think that these weren't all complete accidents. Sure, Carl was clumsy, but not that clumsy. And then it hit him.
Carl was trying to kill him.
Jim had to confide in someone, he had to- Seb. Sebastian was the one person he could trust. The one person he could always talk to, no matter what. That's why it was so important that he seek him out during lunch. It was clear to Jim that Carl must have been listening to their last conversation; this one'd definitely have to be more private. Luckily, he managed to catch Seb as he was walking out of his classroom.
"Listen, I have to talk to you, it's really important. Like, now. Could we... head somewhere a bit more private? Like, the computer lab- nobody else is ever in there. I just can't have anyone else hearing, you know... it's really really important, Seb, please..." the brunet found himself begging.
Seb, blissfully unaware Seb, let out a laugh. "Sure, no problem. I'll be by in just a minute, alright?" He replied, and Jim gave a nod.
"Yeah. I'll be there. Well, soon, I'm going to get some food, first, but..." The Irish boy trailed off, before wandering in the direction of the cafeteria. He wondered if they'd have cookies. They probably wouldn't have cookies. He hoped there'd be cookies.
There weren't cookies.
But, no matter, as he was now in the computer lab, gnawing on a sandwich and watching the door as he waited for Sebastian to show up. Moments later, the blond stepped into the room, and Jim, for a moment, froze. What if Seb didn't believe him? How was Jim going to explain it all? And then he launched into the stories, recalling even the finest details about each one.
"Jim, are we getting to the point of this any time soon?" He inquired. Impatient. Stupid. Oh well.
"Can't you see, Seb? He's trying to kill me. He's trying to kill me over you! I was at his house, a few days before this all started- after our conversation by the tree at lunch- and he accused me of trying to keep you from him, things like that..." he trailed off, looking to Seb for a response. Seb, who was just sitting there, blinking in confusion.
"Carl. Carl is trying to kill you. His old best friend. Over me. I'm that important to him. ... are you sure, Jim? I really don't think... this really doesn't make any sense..."
"Who cares if it makes sense, Seb, he's going to kill me!" Oh, that was a bit loud, whoops. "He... I don't know what to do, Seb..." And suddenly, there were tears sliding down his cheek. He was sixteen, god, sixteen-year-old boys didn't cry... He shouldn't...
"Jim. Jim, look at me. It's okay. You're going to be okay," Sebastian said in a calm, steady tone. "I'll keep you safe, alright?" He pulled Jim in for a hug, which he gladly accepted, but didn't readily return. He was a bit preoccupied trying not to cry- he wrapped his arms around Seb, burying his face in the other boy's shoulder. "Are you going to tell anyone else about it?"
"No, no... he's not coming anywhere near actually killing me. Hospitalising me, maybe, but he won't... he won't actually kill me..." Jim managed.
"... you sure?" Okay, so maybe the pencil and the acid had come close.
"Yeah. He'll run out of ideas eventually, and it'll either be doing something obvious like shooting me or giving up, and if he's at all intelligent he'll pick the latter... I'll be okay, Seb, I just... please help me," he found himself whispering.
"It's alright, Jim," he heard the blond reply in a soft murmur. "It's alright. I've got you."
