Ch. 2

Eric grinned brightly, teasing Jack silently with his eyes. He didn't wait for Jack to mutter some excuse to wiggle himself out of it. The reception was almost over and all he'd asked for was one dance. One song, just once. His hand firmly secured Jack's wrist as he maneuvered them onto the hardwood floor. He caught the small grin on Jack's face but decided there would be less resistance if he waited to tease Jack about it.

"People are staring." Jack muttered out of the side of his mouth. Eric's smile didn't waver. In fact, his smile seemed to widen. He was too wrapped in how perfect the night had been. It was Cory's wedding and somehow it felt like his night. He had cake, his parents were smiling, Cory was married and he had Jack's warm, slender body in his arms. It was like the last month had never happened. Everything was perfect.

"Let them stare." His jeering tone was met with a suspicious stare. "I told you before and I'll tell you again: I don't care." And he didn't.

If what they had, whatever it was, had lasted through Rachel and Eve and Shanna all the other girls over the past three years. This had to mean something and he didn't want to waste time worrying about labels and what everything meant. Eric was a complex guy. Whereas other people found it pertinent to label everyone and everything, he was okay with letting things just be. Sometimes it got him in trouble and sometimes he knew his ambiguity annoyed Jack deeply. Once Jack even accused him of using this indifferent attitude to avoid having to disappoint anyone. And he couldn't disagree really because it was easier than sitting around wondering how to one day tell his parents he'd fallen in love with his roommate. Jack seemed to inhabit Eric's every thought.

But maybe he'd said too much. Given Jack's recent state, he shouldn't have pushed the idea tonight. Especially after that phone call. Eric snapped his mouth shut, feeling like an idiot as he always did with Jack. Jack could deny this as many times as he wanted but Eric would always feel incredibly brainless and tongue-tied around Jack. Because of this, he couldn't pretend Jack tensing in his arms and pulling back didn't hurt.

The song went on for a while before Jack let Eric hold him close again. By the bridge of the song Eric could tell that he hadn't entirely ignored what Eric said but he wasn't willing to go into it. And Eric would have to accept that. Jack burrowed into his warmth and sighed, his hot breath making the hairs on his neck stand in an eerie but not unpleasant way. He could feel the eyes unabashedly focusing on them now, but if Jack wasn't bothered, he didn't care.

The song ended and Jack pulled away, practically prying Eric's arms away from him. Gently, of course, because he couldn't hurt Eric if he'd tried. He brought himself to his full height and met Eric's eyes with such severe trepidation pooling in his eyes and Eric was sure that something was wrong. He opened his mouth and his lips were moving but Eric couldn't hear what he was saying. Which didn't make any sense because the band had stopped for a break and he could hear the tinkering of glasses and silverware and small chatter on the side. Why couldn't he hear what Jack was saying? It was important. He knew it was important because Jack had never looked at him that way. Why couldn't he hear him?

The ballroom faded away and so did Jack eventually and Eric was outside now. He was running but he didn't know why. The smell of pine needles broke the disorienting darkness and stung his nostrils. He was screaming but he couldn't remember why. He must've been shouting someone's name. Jack's? Cory's? He hurried as fast as he could because he had to get there now. Someone was in trouble. Screaming. Someone was screaming. Someone was screaming and there was blood, Sticky, warm, crimson, flowing. There was blood all over him. Drenching his hands, all over his white dress shirt and even in his mouth and he was choking and gagging the metallic-tasting liquid. And he was screaming screaming screaming. Why was he screaming?

"Eric! Eric!"

"Eric! Wake up! You're dreaming again." Cory said shakily. He'd been staying at home to visit while Topanga was in L.A visiting her father. He figured he should be here with Eric anyway after what happened with Jack. He knew Shawn needed him here too. He rubbed at his eyes, watching as Eric jerked awake and grabbed at his sweat soaked t-shirt frantically before taking a moment to observe the sunlight filled room. He sighed and fell back onto his back. He'd been having nightmares since before Cory had come home. Morgan used to wake him up but Cory took over as they became harder and harder to pull Eric out of. Besides, he knew what they were about so he better understood. His parents felt it best to just tell Morgan that Eric was going through a tough time right now and yes, he would eventually be okay.

Eric swore under his breath and gripped his sheets in clenched fists. What hurt Cory the most was how frustrated Eric became after the dream. It manipulated his mood for the rest of the day and he was becoming increasingly agitated at the smallest annoyance. Sometimes he'd burst into fits of rage and his mother and father would tell Morgan and Cory to leave so that they could handle it. They never got mad or upset with Eric but it was obvious they were feeling helpless. Cory walked in on them one night having a conversation about whether or not to send Eric to a therapist. The main reason being that Eric refused to step foot back in his apartment until Jack came home.

"I can never fucking remember. He told me but I can't remember." Eric seethed and started smacking his pillow over and over. Cory hated seeing him like this. He wasn't the silly, goofy and immature loving big brother Cory grew up with. He didn't know who Eric was or how to repair him. Or if he'd ever come back. Cory shook his head, rolling over. He was being selfish again. At least he had his brother, no matter how irate and different he was. At least Eric was awake and breathing on his own.

Cory got out of bed and shuffled over to Eric's bed. He'd repeated the process so many times he could've sworn there was a pattern in the carpet. He pet Eric's shoulder a couple of times before shuffling over to the bathroom door. "It'll be okay Eric. You can ask him when he wakes up." If he wakes up, he left unspoken.

Eric didn't respond. He appeared to be burrowing himself further and further into his bedclothes trying to disappear. He hadn't washed his hair in days and Cory was pretty sure he hadn't changed clothes either. He shuddered as he thought of how Eric had refused to take off his suit that night.

He remembers his mother tearfully pleading with him before Shawn stood up and pulled him aside. Cory doesn't have a clue what he said but he heard Eric shouting something, mouth covered in smeared blood, as he appeared to be restraining himself from punching Shawn. But after some argument, Shawn managed to get him to take it off. He didn't throw it out, though. His mother let him use a plastic covering so that every time Cory got dressed, he wouldn't be faced with the stench of blood, and Eric could have his odd comfort. It didn't freak Cory out any less, though. Topanga thought he was being insensitive and it figured that she understood what Cory didn't.

Cory made his way into the bathroom and cracked the door, watching Eric's actions. He studied the older man as he ran a hand through his greasy hair and opened the door to the closet. Like those many years Cory had watched Eric wake, get dressed and practically drown himself in cologne, Cory watched new Eric's new routine. Eric sighed heavily and covered his mouth absently. His long, thin fingers longing to touch the suit in the plastic casing. And like every morning before, Eric's eyes belied his stability. Cory didn't know if it broke his heart more to see Eric dying to touch the suit in the plastic casing than it did to hear his nightmares and screaming in the middle of the night.

Cory sighed and closed the door and he vaguely heard Eric do the same.

"No, it is not alright Alan. He is completely falling apart. He doesn't give a damn about school. He hasn't showered in a week and he spends the day sitting around the house staring into space. We need to do something and now before we lose him." Amy shouted, slamming cabinets as the flaps of her robe fluttered about.

Cory stopped on the stairs, observing quietly. His father was sitting at the table in an apparent passive position. "He was there Amy. He found him there. What if that had been Cory or Morgan or even me? How would you feel?"

"I would hope my family would get me the help I need." He started before Alan stood and held up his hands to stop her.

"You and I both know that he's not getting any better until Jack walks through that door. Until he finally hears that this wasn't his fault from the only person he needs to hear it from."

Amy shook her head and started to set out skillets and pans. She turned around, her hands on her hips. "And what are we going to do if he doesn't? Then what's going to happen to Eric?"

Alan didn't say anything and somehow the tension and silence got a little more alarming.