#in which yancy does an oopsie

[juju-on-that-yeet]

There Are Worse Things I Could Do, Chapter 8/10

Summary: After days of loneliness and frustration and sad, circular thoughts, Yancy finally hits rock bottom and does something he can’t take back. Warnings: Strangulation, murder, blood Characters: Yancy

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Enjoy - or not, this one’s rough ;w;

~

It’s on a totally normal night – normal at this point, anyway – that everything falls apart.

Yancy is, once again, woken by a cop when he tries to sleep on a park bench. Yancy is, once again, grumbling internally as he looks for somewhere secluded to sleep.

“The hell are they talkin’ about, tellin’ me I can’t sleep there. What if I was homeless, huh? Then what? Assholes.”

“True, but you aren’t homeless. You’re just being a stubborn idiot.”

“I’m not going back! I can’t fucking go back, don’t you get it!?”

Yancy is so frustrated he kicks a pebble in front of him on the sidewalk. It soars into the road and lands in a puddle, so small it hardly splashes. He’s not sure who he’s talking to. He’s never sure when he has conversations like this in his mind. He only ever talks to himself like this when he’s stressed, and he’s been stressed for days.

“This sucks. This can’t suck any worse than going home.”

“Can it, though? I still can’t stop thinking about Lio. The only good thing about this stupid fucking city outside Ego Inc. is that I don’t have to avoid Lio in the hall anymore.”

“You’re being selfish. There are other people at Ego Inc. who miss you. There are people looking for you. Don’t they matter to you?”

“Of course they do, but I just…I can’t.”

Yancy is a coward, that much is not news. He shrinks away from authority, pushes away parental figures. He gets angry and tries to swallow the problems his anger causes. For a man so hellbent on being safe, on staying enclosed and crowded and away from the world, he spends a lot of his time in captivity running from different parts of himself. Not all of them; he would never run from the part of him that sings, that dances, that listens to showtunes and taps his feet. He would never run from the goofy side, the fun-loving side, the side that loves his friends. But the anger, the equal hatred and fear of those above him, the depression and drama? He’d prefer to be free of those.

But there’s nowhere in LA he can run to get away from his own shitty personality.

Yancy keeps walking, actively shutting down the racing thoughts trying to admonish him further. But if he can’t yell at himself for the situation he’s gotten himself into, all he can think about is Lio.

Why the hell does he still love him?

He doesn’t know how long he’s been on the run, the days have blurred together. But it’s been many, in addition to the week after his confession he spent tiptoeing around Lio. Why doesn’t he hate Lio for everything? Why can’t he just get mad at Lio for ignoring and avoiding him, why can’t he curse Lio for breaking his heart? Why is Lio so impossible to get over? But it’s not like Yancy doesn’t know the answers. Lio never meant to hurt him. Lio is probably confused and uncertain, probably really worried about him right now. Lio’s not a bad person, he just didn’t know what to do. Yancy hid his love so well, too well, and Lio didn’t know how to respond to it. Yancy can’t blame him for that.

It means that everything Yancy fell in love with is still there, unmarred. Lio is still achingly handsome, unhindered by any secret cruelty. Lio is still supportive, still caring, still brave and adventurous, still too cool for school in the most endearing way, still secretly a huge dork who loves his friends and only ever makes enemies by being too flirtatious, too affectionate. It’s always genuine, nothing that Yancy can hate him for. There’s nothing sour in Lio, nothing bitter, nothing mean. It’s only Yancy’s own baggage, his own stupid crush, that makes the good in Lio hurt.

Yancy’s so lost in his sad, circular thoughts that it takes him a while to realize he’s being followed.

Once Yancy notices the man matching his speed about ten paces behind him, a rush of anger fills him.

“How the hell did I not notice this guy? What does he want with me, anyway??”

“He probably wants to mug you.”

“It’s not like I have any money!”

“But he doesn’t know that.”

“I’ve been wearing the same clothes for days, and I haven’t showered since I snuck into that twenty-four hour gym the other night. What about me makes me look like I have money!?”

“Maybe he’s just an idiot. But he’s an idiot who’s following you. What are you gonna do about it?”

Yancy’s more angry than worried. He can take a few punches, and he’s gotten less pathetic at fighting ever since Yandere took him under his wing. But what if this guy has a weapon? Yancy figures he will if he has any sense; it’s much harder to threaten people with your bare hands. It’s so late at night there’s no place busy enough to escape to, no crowds to get lost in. The man continues to follow Yancy down the street as he wonders to nowhere.

As Yancy presses forward, contemplating his shit luck, he decides to get this over with and ducks into an alley. He hears the footsteps behind him break into a run, and whirls around to meet them.

“I ain’t got any money, fuck off!!” Yancy yells at the man.

He doesn’t even pause as he runs at Yancy, with a look on his face like he doesn’t believe him.

The guy’s a bit bigger than Yancy, so he can’t avoid being tackled to the ground. He struggles, though, flailing out punches and trying to remember the training Yandere gave him. He must be doing something right, because the man is unable to hold Yancy down and pull out the weapon – a knife, it looks like – in a sheath at his side at the same time.

Yancy hasn’t been in a fight like this in a long time. Even when he went out with Yandere and Chrome he avoided the worst of the action, mostly due to Yandere protecting him. In prison he’d start fights with every newbie, and he did much of the same when he first joined Ego Inc. But he hasn’t had any reason to fight since, and his blood is boiling with it. Facing off against the mugger, punching, getting punched, watching the mugger’s hands as keenly as he positions his own, looking for the best moment to buck him off – all are sensations that Yancy’s body remembers and falls into as easy as breathing, fueled by anger.

Even when he finally gets the guy off him the guy doesn’t let up, and Yancy has to block the knife to keep from getting his face sliced open. The knife opens a line in his arm and Yancy’s vision goes red. The mugger must’ve expected him to stop and cower, but instead, Yancy tackles him twice as hard as the mugger tackled Yancy before, sending the knife sailing out of his hands, away from the fight. But Yancy doesn’t need it.

He’s beyond angry now, the gash in his arm doesn’t bleed rage, it bleeds inhibitions. Yancy’s frustration at everything boils over: His confession to Lio, the rejection, the heartache and tears, his journey away from Ego Inc., his bad night with Danielle, every night after, every night a cop woke him up and make him sleep elsewhere, the stupid squirrel that tried to get him to go home, the voice of reason in Yancy’s mind that keeps telling him the same, the thoughts of Lio that chase it away, evading the other egos, missing his friends, missing Lio, still wanting him, still loving him, still being too stupid to get over him.

Yancy doesn’t feel human. He feels like a devil, like something red-hot and full of hatred, rage, awful angry adrenaline meant to kill.

Wait, kill?

Yancy comes back to himself to find he’s straddling the mugger. His hands are so tight around the mugger’s neck that they ache from exertion. The mugger is motionless. He’s quiet. His eyes are open. There’s no pulse against Yancy’s hands.

Yancy throws himself back with a cry, scrambling away from the mugger.

“No no no no no, not again, not again, not again, not again–”

He curls into a ball and he’s a teenager again, he’s barely eighteen facing his mother in the worst fight they’ve ever had, she’s screaming at him to get a grip, he’s screaming at her to shut up, she’s suddenly not angry anymore, just scared, but Yancy stays angry, stays angry, and soon she isn’t screaming anymore, and Yancy’s hands hurt, they hurt, they shake, just like now, now he’s done it again, he’s still that horrible person who killed someone, he’s still a murderer, all that time in Happy Trails and he’s still the same awful person he always was.

Yancy is sobbing when he lifts his head to see someone near the mouth of the alley. A young woman, phone in hand, eyes wide and skin pale. She’s calling the police, or she’s done it already.

“Kill her. Quick. The knife’s over there. No witnesses.”

Yancy curls up again and wails, wails over the voice in the back of his head that’s no longer the voice of reason. He screams with terror at himself that the thought would even cross his mind, especially after it did once before, when his father came into the kitchen and Yancy couldn’t explain, but the knife on the counter made an explanation unnecessary, and it was so much messier than Yancy’s mother and the blood never came out, it never came out of Yancy’s hands, it’s still there now, it always will be.

Yancy will always be a killer.

When the police come, he doesn’t bother running. He doesn’t bother resisting. He puts his hands up when they ask, he stays still when they put on handcuffs, he allows himself to be pushed into the police car, he remains quiet on the drive to the station.

The anger leaving his system has left him cold, numb, leaking tears. He barely looks up the entire time he’s being processed, except for when they take his mugshot. The whole series of events is familiar, and though the initial shock is wearing off, a part of Yancy is still back at that time, still a frightened boy who just killed his parents. The EMT who wraps up his injured arm doesn’t meet his eyes. The holding cell they put him in is empty, lonely, as lonely as he’s been since he left Ego Inc.

“Fuck, what are the others gonna say? What are they gonna think? What’s gonna happen now?”

All Yancy knows is that he’s a long way from Happy Trails, and wherever he ends up next won’t be nearly so lenient.

Left alone, he spirals, he goes back to loud, ugly sobs and begging wails. How did it get so bad? How did he go so far? How did he end up here?

Yancy, for the first time in days, completely and unequivocally wants to go home.

Eventually, so late at night it’s better called morning, a guard tells him he’s allowed a phone call. By then, the crashing grief has only tapered a little, leaving Yancy shaky and scared and weepy. He jumps at the chance for a call, not even caring that he’s being observed. When they lead him to the phone, he doesn’t hesitate.

He can’t call Lio, like hell he’d call Lio about this. He can’t call Magnum either, the man doesn’t have a phone at all.

But Yandere has a phone. Yandere will know what to do.

After he dials the number and the phone begins to ring, it occurs to him that Yandere won’t recognize the jail’s number. He might not answer it. The thought sends him into such panic that his heart cracks with relief when Yandere picks up.

“Who are you and how did you get this number?” Yandere asks, voice hard and cautious.

“Y-Yan…” Yancy sobs, and for a long moment he can’t say anymore, only continue to cry. It’s been so long since he heard the voice of someone he knows.

“Yan-kun!?” Yandere cries, loud enough to hurt Yancy’s ears. “Yan-kun, where are you, are you okay, what–”

“I…” Yancy sobs again, trying to force out the words. “I d-did something a-awful. Yan, I-I killed him, I didn’t m-mean to–”

“Oh, Yancy,” Yandere gasps, voice colored with sympathy that Yancy knows he doesn’t deserve, “You’re calling me from jail, aren’t you?”

Yancy whimpers in response.

“Okay, don’t worry, just – just tell me where you are. What station are you in?”

Yancy didn’t pay enough attention as he was being processed to get the name, but he answers Yandere’s other questions about the place as best as he can, through tears.

“Yan-Yan, shhh, it’ll be okay,” Yandere murmurs, clearly wishing he could offer physical comfort. “I’ll tell Yami what’s going on, and the Googles will figure out where you are, and then Yami or Wil will come get you. Just hang in there, Yan-Yan, we’ll fix this. You’ll be home soon.”

He says it like it’s that easy. He says it like Dark expunging Yancy’s arrest and taking him home will solve this. But Yandere’s not like Yancy; there’s something in his mind that lets him kill without remorse, something that lets him kill for fun. Yancy can’t understand it, the same way Yandere, as caring to Yancy as he is, could never understand how murder weighs on Yancy’s heart.

Still, the thought of going home gives him strength. He’s a little surprised at himself for wanting to leave jail so soon after going back. Maybe he’s changed, grown a little since he left Happy Trails. Maybe he trusts himself to do better next time. And besides, going home and seeing Lio is preferable to staying in a newer, rougher prison, one where Yancy would have no friends and no hope of getting any. He can’t fool himself: He’d be eaten alive in any prison but Happy Trails.

“Is Ego Inc. just the default place to go, then? Is it the lesser of two evils now? I still deserve to pay for this.”

“Oh, you will. Dark’s going to be PISSED.”

Oh, right. Yancy hadn’t thought of that.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Yancy sits in holding until sunlight breaks. He does not sleep, and his hands do not stop shaking.