"Some people care too much… I think it's called love." - Winnie the Pooh

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Jonathan rushed through the front door and slammed it shut behind him. He hurtled straight up the stairs to his bedroom, slamming that door shut behind him as well. Sock followed through.

Jonathan flung his schoolbag next to his desk, and limped across the room to his bathroom.

He peered into the mirror above the sink. A thin ribbon of blood was dripping from his nose, down to his chin, where someone's fist had smashed into it. He had kept wiping the blood off with the back of his hand throughout the bus ride, but his nose still hadn't stopped bleeding. As he studied the bruising through the mirror, he could see Sock's reflection. Jon turned around. Sock was standing behind him, looking upset.

"I thought we agreed," said Jonathan."You do not go into this room. This is the bathroom." That rule had been implemented ever since the shower incident.

He didn't say it with genuine anger. He was too tired to feel angry. It was a shutting down, giving-up sort of tired.

Sock didn't seem to be paying attention. He just cautiously asked, "How badly does it hurt?"

"Not that bad. It just looks worse that it feels."

"I'm sorry I couldn't help."

"Don't be." said Jonathan.

Sighing, he reached for the first aid kit in the bathroom's cupboard. Sock watched. Jon pulled out what looked like a small, opaque-white icicle in a jar. The styptic pencil he used for shaving cuts. Taking it out and running it under cold water, Jonathan ran it across the wound at his nose. He winced. It really stung. But at least it stopped some of the bleeding.

Jon went back to his bedroom, and Sock followed through a wall. Sinking down onto his bed, Jonathan put his headphones on and breathed deeply.

The music came to life, and Jon's favourite band, Valhalla Soundbox, began to play. Jonathan turned up the volume. Sometimes, if he turned up the volume high enough, he could almost drown out his thoughts. He was hoping that the guitar and lyrics would push out all the insults that were being played in his head from school that day. After a few minutes, it still didn't work. Even with the bass rumbling through his chest, the insults were still audible in his mind.

Sock was thinking about them too. What did that big guy say after he punched Jon?

"Meet me after school. You're dead."

It was that that had been placing Sock in a permanent panic-attack mode. Sock was sure that the guy meant serious business. What made it worse was that Jonathan wouldn't even take it seriously. Sock was worried, while Jonathan was just his usual, apathetic 'Meh'.

"You're not going to meet that guy this evening, right?" asked Sock, "After five o'clock, when I'm gone?"

"I already said 'no'."

"You wouldn't just say that, right?"

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. It sounded too similar to, 'You wouldn't say you were all right if you didn't mean it?' and Sock promised he wouldn't ask him that again.

His mother was still at work. But in a few hours, she would come home and ask him to come down to eat diner. He hoped his nose would stop bleeding by then.

He would have to lie about how his day went. He would have to try to make his voice sound as light and as cheerful as possible. And he wasn't looking forward to that.

Jonathan wiped some of the blood that had trickled down from him nose.

"Have you ever been punched before?" asked Sock.

Jon was silent for a moment, but then said, "Yeah..."

"What?" said Sock with wide eyes. "When? Where?"

"It's a long story..."

Sock grinned. "I've got an eternity. You've got a nice voice."

Jonathan turned his head to look at Sock.

"Sock, when someone says something's 'a long story', it's a polite way of saying they're not going to tell you about it."

There was a pause in the conversation before Sock said, "I'm sorry I couldn't help."

"You already said that."

Sock perched on the edge of the bathroom sink, dangling his feet above the ground and swinging them like a child. But then he stopped, and realised something.

He could help save Jonathan. By possessing him and fighting for him.

Sock thought for a moment. He was able to possess Jonathan only when he hugged Sock. So Sock had to quickly devise a way to get Jonathan to hug him with raising suspicion.

The little demon had to think of something that would earn him sympathy points with Jonathan in short amount of time. If Jonathan felt sorry enough for Sock, he'd give him a hug.

The two of them walked back into Jonathan's room. The teen knelt down to look for something in his schoolbag.

Sock cleared his throat before starting his plan. "Um… you know… I've just been really thinking about my parents lately..."

Jonathan looked up. "You told me you murdered them."

"By accident. I was just thinking... I love them so much. And now, they'll probably be in Heaven, right? So I'll never get to see them again."

Concern came into Jonathan's eyes. "Can't you, I dunno… Arrange some sort of meeting where you can see each other on… some sort of common ground?"

Sock shook his head. "No, I don't think that's possible..." he said quietly.

Sock looked up at Jonathan, who seemed to genuinely care about what Sock was telling him. The demon felt touched and almost surprised that his problems were of any interest to Jonathan. Sock was beginning to feel guilty for manipulating Jonathan like this, but this was a real emergency.

This was a good start, but what next? What else could he do? What would appeal to Jon's better nature? Well, Jonathan seemed to disapprove of Sock's homicidal tendencies. He decided to try using that to his advantage.

"And, it's not just my parents," shrugged Sock. "I'm just really upset about killing all the things I've killed and even just thinking about killing people in the past."

Good thing Sock wasn't hooked up to a lie detector for that one. The needle would have shot up into the next room for a lie-down.

"But it was your choice to murder animals." said Jonathan, thinking back to all the times Sock mentioned a story about killing a wild animal or someone's pet. "You told me you enjoyed it."

Sock lowered his head and closed his eyes in apparent guilt. "Yes, I did. For my sins."

Wow, Jonathan thought. That was extremely cute. I am a serial killer for my sins. That was rich.

"So, suddenly, you don't anymore?" Jonathan was confused at this apparent change of character.

"That's right."

Jonathan seemed to be at least somewhat buying it, so Sock tried one last resort.

Sock tried to look like he was about to cry. "I'm a bad guy! I don't know what to do!" he sniffled.

When Jonathan saw the demon with watery eyes, he looked horrified. "Ah, Sock, please, don't… jeez..." He really wasn't used to seeing anyone cry.

Sock was pleased with that. He had hoped Jon would react to that.

Jonathan chewed his lip. Sock was looking so pathetic that the blond didn't have much choice but to believe the little demon.

He came to a decision.

"Just… Come here, Sock."

He hugged Sock. The same feeling of warmth and feeling occurred in Sock.

They clung to each other, twined together in the embrace, and Sock felt that Jonathan really trusted him. More than the last time they hugged. And there was another pang of guilt in his gut.

Sock thought for a moment. If Jonathan died in non-suicidal means, Sock wouldn't just be fired. Jonathan would go to Heaven. Jonathan was good. A good, if apathetically-gloomy person. Sock never really thought about it before, but he wouldn't just be fired from his job.

He would lose Jonathan forever.

That was why Sock had to do this.

"It'll be okay, Sock. We'll figure something out." said Jonathan, trying to comfort the spirit.

"Yeah. It'll be okay..." said Sock quietly into Jonathan's shoulder.

Sock let himself relax into the teen's arms. He, at this moment in time, felt perfectly contented.

Then Jonathan-or rather, Sock-smiled. It was a slow, creeping, Cheshire Cat grin. He got up, and slowly walked down the stairs. He walked into the kitchen, pulled open a draw, and casually pulled out a knife. The largest one. It was mainly used for cutting vegetables, but Sock had another use for it in mind.

He stuffed the knife in Jon's school bag, emptying it of textbooks and papers. He flung the bag over his shoulder.

He walked out the front door. Just an ordinary teenager with a school rucksack taking an ordinary evening stroll. That's what it would look like to any passerby.

He could feel something of Jonathan in the back of his mind. The feeling of fear again.

Sock pushed the thought back. He was doing this for Jonathan. If he could get rid of this attacker at school for Jonathan, Jon wouldn't be in danger, Sock's job wouldn't be in danger, and it would give Sock a chance to walk around like a living human again. What more could either of them hope for?

Besides... This was going to be fun.

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"The road to hell is paved with good intentions." - Proverb

End.