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Sometimes when Keon finishes a torture session with Blyke, the guards don’t pick him up right away. He’s stuck in his thoughts in the cold dark room and he can feel his mind shriveling with every installment of manipulation and hate that Keon tries to impress upon him. No matter what he says, Remi and Isen didn’t abandon him. He just wasn’t strong enough to keep up. They never would’ve been in this situation had they not gone back for John. No matter what Keon says, John’s not fucking scary, he’s just a terrible person. Blyke can hate John fine without Keon’s help.
The only thing Keon’s ‘help’ has done is make Blyke pissed and give him the occasional hallucination. That’s why he’s only half surprised when he sees a black haired figure in the corner of his vision. He rolls his eyes. It may just be a hallucination, but he still doesn’t want to see the bastard. Turning to the left, rather than the wall he expects, he still sees John. He’s hunched over and shaking. The black-haired boy is handcuffed to a table just like Blyke’s. There is a subtle rattling from the other’s hand shaking, and, while Blyke can’t make out his face, John appears disheveled and distant.
To aid in dispersing the illusion, Blyke slides his leg out to the side so it breaks through the mirage.
Except it doesn't do that.
Blyke’s foot hits one of the table legs, and, while it was only lightly tapped, it still causes the boy sitting at the table to startle horribly. John attempts to cover his head, and his table rattles where his wrists are bound. Instead he lowers his head, lifting his arms and shoulders so they cover his ears. With his head so close to the table, it seems to make the quickened breath leaving his mouth that much more audible to Blyke.
He comes here and tries to pretend like he's the victim in this? He's not been the one trapped here for weeks! Blyke tries to tell himself. Still, he can't help the whisper in the back of his head that worries he's missing something. Did they get Remi and Isen too? If John's here, did anyone escape?
Blyke shakes his head to clear his thoughts and observes John more. It's strange. John seems younger, though that may be due to how small the black-haired boy is trying to make himself.
“John,” Blyke calls out.
The boy in question looks up at him startled. The fear coating John's expression leaves Blyke breathless. The boy stares at him eyes wide like he’s terrified of what Blyke would do. Blyke instinctually wants to reach out, but the handcuffs hold his wrists to the table. The black-haired boy looks at Blyke’s handcuffs before slowly looking at Blyke’s face. John's eyes fill with confusion and fear. When he speaks, his voice is dry and quiet, like he hasn't had a thing to drink in months, like he's screamed until he couldn't.
“...who are you?”
John's voice is higher than Blyke remembers. Now that he's actually getting a look at the other boy, Blyke's realizing that this might literally be a younger John. His face is rounder, younger. His body is shorter and much less muscular. Blyke might even call it malnourished, though that makes sense with the shitty food he's been served.
“It's Blyke. We go to high school together.”
At that, John's expression shifts to one of guilt and something distant. For a moment, his eyes seem to glaze over before they clear again.
“We did? I don't- I-I'm so sorry. I hurt you and I can't even remember who you are.”
John's eyes drift back down to Blyke's handcuffs.
“I- wait if you went to high scho-,” John's voice gives out in a pained squeak. He coughs a couple times, but his voice doesn't return. John continues, whispering, “If we went to high school together, what are you doing here?”
“You know EMBER?”
“Like the little glowing things that come out of fires sometimes?”
“No, like the organization that's killing vigilanties.”
“The WHAT that's killing WHO?”
Oh yeah. EMBER might not exist yet, UnOrdinary might not even exist yet. Wait. What IS John doing here? Even when we were telling each other everything, he never told us he went to JAIL.
As if reading Blyke’s mind, John asks, “Are you wearing a prison uniform?”
It’s at this moment he realizes that John isn’t wearing a prison uniform. He’s got shorts, a t-shirt- and a jacket on. Blyke racks his mind for where in the timeline this would be.
Maybe after he was expelled? His records did say the authorities were called, so maybe he's just in custody then? But then why would he be scared? He's supposed to be the same tyrant Blyke met when John was king. What's different? The handcuffs? Back in Rowden, he didn't like them there, either. Is there a reason why-
“OK damn dont answer me then.”
“Sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked if that's a prison uniform”
“Oh yeah. They're saying I'm a drug dealer, even though I'm not.”
“Why would they say that? The authorities are supposed to protect eve- they're supposed to protect people.”
Its… odd hearing John defend the authorities. Blyke didn't realize there was ever a time where he liked them, though like might be a bit of a stretch.
Blyke must've made a face, because John's rushing to correct himself, “Protect from things like me. I mean, you know what I'm capable of. You know why I'm here.”
Yeah that sounds more like the John he knows.
“What are they doing to you?”
“Huh?”
“You’re not really acting like the John I know.”
“Oh uh, my instructor’s showing me my mistakes so I won't do them again. He’s helping me,” John says, but the nervous smile and noticeable shake in his hands says otherwise. Wait. Showing mistakes?
“John, who’s your instruct-”
Blyke is cut off by the door in front of John opening with a slam. John flinches hard and his head immediately flies down to go back to staring at his wrists. Blyke looks up at the door to see Keon. The older male doesn’t acknowledge Blyke at all. He closes the door behind him and speaks.
“Let’s get started.”
John is trembling so hard he’s rattling the table, chair, and handcuffs. Keon reaches forward and places his hand to the young boy’s forehead. Blyke tries to kick, scream, anything to distract Keon from John, but like his version of Keon has been reminding him, He’s too weak to do anything.