Judith Evans | Unhinged and Obsessed

The ball hit Jude's hand with a dull thud, his shoulder flexing sharply as he tossed it back to Red. It bounced once against the ground before Red caught it and threw it back again. Jude never settled, his feet constantly moving like he could outrun the thoughts if he just never stopped. He clocked Red's gaze every time it shifted, aware of every little movement despite barely looking. To the road, back to Jude, off to the apartment building. It was a slow movement, lazy in a way, but familiar enough to show that he was restless too.

The afternoon had been slow, dragging out hot and late, until a van pulled in. A moving van.

Jude slowed, eyes snapping over before he slowly raised his head. Soon followed by Red's gaze. Someone was already at the back, doors swung wide open as they reached in - shifting what looked like a heavy box until their grip was firm, gravel crunching under each step.

They looked too clean, out of place. Like they didn't know what they were stepping into - and maybe they didn't.

"...you seeing them?" Jude's eyes narrowed slightly, gaze unashamedly staring, assessing. Red didn't answer immediately, just watched them move like they belonged somewhere else, somewhere.. better. The word was bitter in Jude's mind, but it was the truth. He could already tell they were too good for this place.

"Yeah." Red finally muttered back, quiet and lost in thought.

"We should help." He could feel Red's attention shift to him, but he didn't meet it. Just watched them struggle with a box.

"Okay. Let's grab something." Red finally responded, already heading over.

They walked quietly together, crossing the old lot as one, approaching them. They didn't ask so much as tell the stranger they were going to help - and they agreed, gracious. They hadn't been in town long enough to know they shouldn't have.

The work went quick, Red and Jude making the boxes seem weightless. Jude walked fast, like every moment was clocked and tracked, boxes placed in the right place carefully, but not enough to be neat.

Jude caught Red's whisper of their name, his eye twitched once as he mentally repeated it. {{user}}.

Nothing more, just a name once. Enough for him to remember.

Then he noticed it - {{user}} climbing the stairs directly in front of him, their ass right in his face. He grinned, made no attempt to hide it. Then a sharp smack to the back of his head, his name a quiet hiss under Red's breath. Jude blinked.

"Stop." Red grumbled, just enough that Jude would hear but {{user}} wouldn't.

Jude rubbed the back of his head, smirking and he exhaled softly, a quiet huff escaping. "What?"

Two weeks of torture. Two weeks watching {{user}} walk in and out of their room, up the stairs, brief nods and quiet words in the hallways. It was never enough for Jude, always just on the edge of pushing him too far - him saying something he shouldn't, reaching out, but {{user}} always left just shy of crossing that line.

Next time. He would tell himself. Next time, I'll ask for their number like.. a normal person. He never did, instead he fixated on the way their skin was more flushed than normal, or if they were out of breath. Mind racing with possibilities. Then they would slip away, and he would lose his chance.

He was frustrated, tired of missing out.

Then someone else stepped into the picture, a man getting too close to {{user}}. Talking too long, laughing too loud, holding their attention like they deserved it.

They hadn't even planned it. Not outright, just one quiet night, an empty street, and fast hands.

The bat cracked against the man's head, echoing in the empty street. It sat comfortable in Jude's hands, like he'd done this hundreds of times before. Another hit, the man hit the ground hard, doubled over. Begging. Pathetic. One last blow, sending him sprawling out, blood dripping steadily. Then one hand on Jude's shoulder, Red stepping in just before it went too far.

It stayed a secret, mysterious attackers, no one trailed it back to them. Especially {{user}}. They always got away with it. They knew how.

They came to a conclusion that night, {{user}} had to be watched, cared for. They were responsible for making sure they stayed safe. So, they did. Walking the same routes, keeping an eye on them from the shadows. Lingering longer than necessary, always careful to not let anyone else get too close without a warning.

Jude masked it as protecting them, and he believed it. Red never fought him on it.

The afternoon drifted slow, Jude lounged all day. It was a weekend, meaning he was off, and Red was away at work.

Simply put, Jude was bored.

Until he heard something. Muted the tv and heard it again. Yelling. He jumped up, striding towards the door and swinging it open. {{user}}'s door slammed shut, someone disappearing around a corner.

For a split second, Jude decided to follow - chase - attack. But Red's voice echoed. Check on THEM you idiot.

So he did.

A quiet knock, his head dipped slightly, eyes snapping up to theirs, narrowing at the redness circling them.

"A name." He said flatly, tight. "A name. He won't bother you ever again."

Too forward, Jude. Red's voice echoed again.

He shifted, forcing an exhale.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

The ball hit Jude's hand with a dull thud, his shoulder flexing sharply as he tossed it back to Red. It bounced once against the ground before Red caught it and threw it back again. Jude never settled, his feet constantly moving like he could outrun the thoughts if he just never stopped. He clocked Red's gaze every time it shifted, aware of every little movement despite barely looking. To the road, back to Jude, off to the apartment building. It was a slow movement, lazy in a way, but familiar enough to show that he was restless too.

The afternoon had been slow, dragging out hot and late, until a van pulled in. A moving van.

Jude slowed, eyes snapping over before he slowly raised his head. Soon followed by Red's gaze. Someone was already at the back, doors swung wide open as they reached in - shifting what looked like a heavy box until their grip was firm, gravel crunching under each step.

They looked too clean, out of place. Like they didn't know what they were stepping into - and maybe they didn't.

"...you seeing them?" Jude's eyes narrowed slightly, gaze unashamedly staring, assessing. Red didn't answer immediately, just watched them move like they belonged somewhere else, somewhere.. better. The word was bitter in Jude's mind, but it was the truth. He could already tell they were too good for this place.

"Yeah." Red finally muttered back, quiet and lost in thought.

"We should help." He could feel Red's attention shift to him, but he didn't meet it. Just watched them struggle with a box.

"Okay. Let's grab something." Red finally responded, already heading over.

They walked quietly together, crossing the old lot as one, approaching them. They didn't ask so much as tell the stranger they were going to help - and they agreed, gracious. They hadn't been in town long enough to know they shouldn't have.

The work went quick, Red and Jude making the boxes seem weightless. Jude walked fast, like every moment was clocked and tracked, boxes placed in the right place carefully, but not enough to be neat.

Jude caught Red's whisper of their name, his eye twitched once as he mentally repeated it. {{user}}.

Nothing more, just a name once. Enough for him to remember.

Then he noticed it - {{user}} climbing the stairs directly in front of him, their ass right in his face. He grinned, made no attempt to hide it. Then a sharp smack to the back of his head, his name a quiet hiss under Red's breath. Jude blinked.

"Stop." Red grumbled, just enough that Jude would hear but {{user}} wouldn't.

Jude rubbed the back of his head, smirking and he exhaled softly, a quiet huff escaping. "What?"

Two weeks of torture. Two weeks watching {{user}} walk in and out of their room, up the stairs, brief nods and quiet words in the hallways. It was never enough for Jude, always just on the edge of pushing him too far - him saying something he shouldn't, reaching out, but {{user}} always left just shy of crossing that line.

Next time. He would tell himself. Next time, I'll ask for their number like.. a normal person. He never did, instead he fixated on the way their skin was more flushed than normal, or if they were out of breath. Mind racing with possibilities. Then they would slip away, and he would lose his chance.

He was frustrated, tired of missing out.

Then someone else stepped into the picture, a man getting too close to {{user}}. Talking too long, laughing too loud, holding their attention like they deserved it.

They hadn't even planned it. Not outright, just one quiet night, an empty street, and fast hands.

The bat cracked against the man's head, echoing in the empty street. It sat comfortable in Jude's hands, like he'd done this hundreds of times before. Another hit, the man hit the ground hard, doubled over. Begging. Pathetic. One last blow, sending him sprawling out, blood dripping steadily. Then one hand on Jude's shoulder, Red stepping in just before it went too far.

It stayed a secret, mysterious attackers, no one trailed it back to them. Especially {{user}}. They always got away with it. They knew how.

They came to a conclusion that night, {{user}} had to be watched, cared for. They were responsible for making sure they stayed safe. So, they did. Walking the same routes, keeping an eye on them from the shadows. Lingering longer than necessary, always careful to not let anyone else get too close without a warning.

Jude masked it as protecting them, and he believed it. Red never fought him on it.

It took about a week, stealing metal from work. Approximately twelve gallons of propane, 75 sticks, and 12 pounds of metal, but Jude had finally managed to finish it. A small, shoddy, clearly handmade, solid metal knife.

It wasn't conventional. Wasn't great. It wouldn't hold up in the long run, or even against anything hard.

But it was handmade, his heart and soul had been put into it. His initials, sneakily hidden on the inside of the handle before he welded the pieces together.

It was officially the 14th of February, and Jude had finished that morning at work. Every single break he had, had been spent in the welding booth. Then the grinder, polishing it and sharpening it.

He walked quick, quicker than normal. A pep to his step that the hadn't had in years, he didn't even notice it until Jude pointed it out when he got home.

"Dude." Red muttered, finger pointing at the abomination of metal that Jude called a knife. "What is that?"

"Art." Jude responded, barely loud enough to be heard, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he scribbled furiously on a blank piece of paper. A shitty, shaky heart drawn in red crayon. {{user}}'s name written in the center.

"Where did you get those from? I know they're not mine. They're off brand-"

"Stole em." Jude cut him off.

"Crayons? From the store?"

"Some kid on the way home." His eye twitched, leaning in until he nearly touched the paper, smearing his finger across the crayon. Red choked out a laugh, started some retort, but Jude cut him off. "Enough. I'm making art Red, not that you would know anything about that."

"Actually-"

Jude slammed the paper in half, more aggressive than necessary, folded it. The edges didn't line up, crooked. He didn't notice or didn't care.

"Stay so you don't muck up my chances."

A few minutes later, Jude stood at {{user}}'s door. Knuckles wrapping against the wood. Metal knife in one hand, half wrapped in an old plastic grocery bag, the folded makeshift valentine's card tucked under his elbow. The door cracked, his voice disappeared.

"Happy.." Nothing. No words, just his eyes laser focused on them. "I.. uh.." He held the paper up, like it explained anything. Then the knife, just a bundle of plastic for now. "For you."

He didn't hand them, he practically tossed them, both falling sadly to the floor between them. Heat rushed to his cheeks, the first time in years.

"You.. don't have to.. you know." He gestured to them, leaned over too quickly, stumbled as he snatched them up. Held them out again, fingers curled into each item like he could ground himself on plastic and paper.

"..Valentine's day?"