Friends Eat Friends

"You're cheating." Josh pouts.

Chris startles beside him, blinking furiously as he stumbles to remember getting here. He's in Josh's room, the familiar fan of the sun pouring through open windows. Chris looks around, edges of his vision blurring as his head rapidly takes in his surroundings. There's an old pack of Marlboro's sitting on the windowsill, movies stacked neatly inside the entertainment center. Organized clutter strewn about the metal desk in the corner.

He was in Josh's room. Where was he before that? Chris peers down at the controller in his lap, Josh's blanket bunched around his waist, fingers hovering over buttons. Josh sits beside him, expression worried but smiling, hair slightly mused. He looks fine. Fine. Why wouldn't he look fine? Chris stares at him.

"You okay, man?" Josh queries softly.

Chris leans forward, placing a kiss to Josh's lips. Soft, tasting like cinnamon. Josh stills before sighing softly, a hand coming to rest on Chris' shoulder. Chris watches the other's eyes slip closed, his own following shortly after. He grasps the front of Josh's shirt, feeling skin underneath, so warm, so human. He feels the steady beat of Josh's heart, the soft twitch in his pulse.

Chris pulls away briefly. "Is this a dream?"

"Sure hope not, Cochise." Josh smiles and they're kissing again, Chris tugging his best friend into his lap. His mind buzzes, confusion settling as if he's forgotten something. Josh sets the controller to the side, easing Chris backwards on the bed. Josh straddles the other's waist, mouth never leaving his; the solid press of his thin body melding into Chris'.

"Open up." Josh murmurs softly.

Chris obeys, lips parting almost on instinct, hands tugging Josh's shirt up. He can feel Josh's smile. Josh sits up, taking the collar of his shirt and yanking it off in one swift movement. Chris immediately reaches out, mapping the newly exposed skin.

Josh chuckles deeply. "Didn't think you liked me this much."

Chris might love him. The buzzing in his head grows louder. Josh tilts forward, fingers dancing along the skin of Chris' arms. He captures Chris' mouth in an open kiss, moaning deep in his throat. He leads, Chris fumbling to meet the long strokes of tongue. Josh's fingers wrap around his wrist, guiding them up past his head, mouth insistent and sharp, teeth nipping and biting. Chris whimpers softly, tasting copper on Josh's tongue. His body tenses up, the buzzing drowning out any thoughts he had.

Something's wrong.

"You like me a lot, Chris?" Josh asks, voice strange and deep.

Chris swallows. "Yes."

The skin pressed against his grows cold, cold and stiff. Josh smiles. Chris watches the ceiling bleed into darkness, thick branches of trees expanding over them. A droplet of water hits Chris' glasses. Josh releases one of his wrists, cupping Chris' chin in a freezing cold hand. Chris flinches but the grip holds him firm.

"Would you die for me, Cochise?"

"Yes." Chris says without thinking. Snowflakes begin to fall, dotting Chris' skin until he's shivering against Josh, who seems unfazed. The color in Josh's face recedes, shadowy tendrils floating down from the darkness to curl around his neck. Numbing horror thrums through Chris' veins, voice caught in his throat. He can't move. He can't move.

Josh smiles slow and wide, the left side of his face splitting open with a sickening noise. Blood drips down on Chris' face, sliding along his lips, his cheeks. Green eyes dimmer, whitened gloss filming over. Josh's mouth falls open, broken fang and teeth breaking through the tear in his mouth.

"Imagine. You being his last kill."

Chris knows that voice, knows that old, gentle deceiving sound. He's heard it before. Something's wrong. Something is wrong with-

"Josh."

Glassed over eyes roll absently, locking on him with a thin glimmer of recognition. This is a dream, Chris tells himself but it doesn't stop the fear that lingers inside him, doesn't stop his heart from screaming in his chest.

Josh pushes up, thin arms quaking, and he's staring down at Chris with this horrible, longing gaze. Chipped, cold fingernails press into Chris' skin. Chris can feel the warmth of his blood when they cut into him.

"This is a dream."

"Is it?" The voice smiles. "The night is still young."

Josh brings a hand up to his face, grasping something in the darkness and he pulls. It's the mask, simple and white with carvings of an old language. Empty, beady eyes peer down at Chris, the slow crack of wood as it smiles, all teeth and blood and Chris forces himself up, reaching for the mask because Josh is still under there. He's still there, underneath. He's still-

Chris' head hits the visor, hand grasping the dashboard tightly. It's warm under his palm. Chris breathes out shakily.

"We're almost home." Sam's voice rings in his ear. "Bad dream?"

Chris forces himself back in the seat, trembling slightly. His arm aches when he shifts back. Chris pulls up the sleeve of his jacket, checking the bandage. He can see dots of red spotting along it. His wound wasn't important now.

"How long was I out?"

"Bout an hour." Sam tells him, shifting gears. The sign for Binksy appears in the distance. Chris sighs.

"How's your arm?"

"Fine." Chris tells her.

"At least you'll have a cool story to tell your kids when they're old enough." Sam jokes.

Chris smiles. "Tell them how much of a badass I am."

He wasn't very concerned with how the scarring would look, that gauze around it held tight together and it didn't hurt anymore so Chris wasn't going to worry about it. Not until they finished this thing.

This thing. An exorcism.

Emily had called before Chris fell asleep, bitching up a storm about how she didn't have an adequate amount of time to research but she had something and it might work. Might. Chris didn't want to think about possibilities, he just wanted this done with.

Chris checks his phone, pressing the power button until the apple logo appears. He's never been so grateful to see the bars grow as the service comes back. His battery is dying, a blaring red beacon. The messages tumble in one after another. An unknown number appears followed by a voicemail. Chris doesn't see any messages from Josh. He tries not to let it worry him.

Chris listens to the voicemail.

"Hello, Christopher, this is Dr. Guy Fontaine from Kindle Hospital. Your father, August Pilgrim, asked me to contact you in regards to his accident. He underwent surgery but his condition is stable and-"

Chris zones out halfway through, eyes darting back and forth as he tries to formulate what kind of accident his father could've been in. Chris gasps softly. He didn't leave a note, he didn't tell his dad where he was going. He didn't say anything.

His dad went looking for him.

Chris stares shakily down at his phone. They said he was okay, he was okay. He was okay. But.

"You okay?"

"My dad." Chris starts, wetting his lips. "I don't know. My dad got hurt."

Sam stills beside him. "Was... Was it-"

"I don't know. He's okay though."

Sam sighs in relief. "Oh my god, Chris."

Chris fumbles with his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he finds Josh's number. He presses call. It rings, rings and rings, falling in tune with the nervous twitch of Chris' heart. Josh doesn't answer.

The exit for their town nears.

Chris tries Beth. It rings and rings. No answer.

"No one's answering." Chris says, feeing panicked. He clutched his phone tightly to his chest. Sam tenses beside him.

"We should go by."

Chris swallows. He didn't know if that was a good idea. Or maybe he was just afraid, afraid of seeing something he'd never forget. Chris calls Emily.

"If you're calling to ask if I brought salt I did okay? I have sea salt and kosher so this should work." Emily answers immediately, rambling on about salt and circles and things Chris doesn't fully understand.

"Have you talked to Beth?" Chris interrupts her. The line quiets.

"Like thirty minutes ago. She said Josh is pretty much dead and she went to check on him."

"Em," Chris stresses. "How long has he been asleep?"

"Jesus, Chris I don't know. I've been busy playing Monster Hunter or did you forget?" Emily snaps, sounding flustered. "What is going on anyway? Why am I researching-"

"Josh is eating people, Emily!" Chris says hurriedly.

"What...? Chris? What are you.." Emily quiets. "Oh my god! Oh. My. God!"

"I gotta go, Em." Chris says, swearing softly. They needed to figure out where Josh was, if the twins were okay. Chris hadn't tried Hannah yet.

"What do I do? I'm not qualified for this shit!" Emily shouts, her voice almost shrill.

"I'll call you back." Chris hangs up immediately, breathing heavily as Sam eases off the highway. Her hand grabs his, squeezing tightly and Chris can see tears lining her eyes. Chris tries Hannah.

"Chris? Are you guys almost back?"

"Where's Josh? Beth isn't answering her phone. Are you okay?"

"Um, yeah." Hannah whispers shakily. "Josh is asleep. He's been asleep for almost twelve hours now. Beth is with me. We're okay. Where are you?"

Her voice is tense, syllables stressed and forced and Chris knows she's trying to keep it together. Chris couldn't think of an explanation for Josh sleeping so long though or what would happen when he wakes up.

"We're almost to your house." Chris tells her.

Hannah sighs in relief. "Thank God. Chris, he's been asleep so long. We don't know what to do. He came home with blood on him, mumbling to himself and he went to his room and hasn't been out since. Chris, I don't know whose blood that was! He didn't even acknowledge us."

Her voice breaks, a trembling sob escaping. Beth whispers softly to her in the background.

"What's happening?" Sam asks softly.

"Josh's been asleep for a while. They're freaking out." Chris informs her. "We're almost there, Hannah. I'll stay on the phone."

Chris could almost laugh at the authority in his voice considering he doesn't know shit about what they're up against besides that it's evil and dangerous and could kill all of them.

The road to the Washington's has never seem so long or menacing, trees blocking the sun. Chris notices tire streaks in the concrete of the road, the familiar red of his dad's Mustang sitting abandoned along the side of the road. Chris forces himself to breathe.

But his dad is alive and stable.

Josh let him go.

"Is that your- oh, Chris. I'm sorry."

"That doesn't matter right now." Chris tells her. "Han, is he still asleep?"

"Yes." Hannah says.

They follow the side road that connects to the Washington driveway, a dull shadow settled over the majestic house. Sam parks close to the door, leaving the car in idle as she stumbles out. Chris follows in tow, hitting end on the call. He reaches for Sam.

"We need a plan."

"We have one." Sam frowns.

"We have a maybe." Chris reminds her. "We can't do it here."

Sam turns to him fully, one foot on the stairs leading to the patio. She folds her arms over her chest. "We could do the Point. It's empty."

Chris nods. "Okay. Do we wake him?"

Sam tenses. "I don't know. We've seen... We've seen what those things can do but.. Josh isn't one of them yet."

They stare at one another in silence. A moment passes, wind blowing by restlessly. Chris touches his bandaged arm.

"I'll do it. Call Emily. Let her know."

"Okay."

Sam enters first, phone pressed to her ear as she makes a beeline for the kitchen. Chris can hear the twins worried chatter. He stands before the stairway, trying to calm his frantic heart. He takes a step.

This wasn't something they could back away from. It wasn't something they could sweep under the rug and hope that it'd fix itself. Chris climbs the stairs slowly, eyes trained on his feet. He feels cowardly. Scared and nervous and all he can think about is what if this doesn't work. What if they're too late?

What if he's too late?

Chris reaches the top, following the familiar turn of the hallway until he reaches a smaller flight of steps that lead to Josh's bedroom. The door is closed at the top. Chris inhales.

He ascends.

His limbs feel heavy, hands fisted at his sides. Chris wishes the journey was longer when he reaches the door. He turns the knob slowly, easing it open. His eyes widen at the state of Josh's room. It's blown to shit. TV smashed into the ground, desk broken in half, torn shreds of clothing and paper litter the floor.

Josh is curled up on his bed, painfully still aside from the slow rise and fall of each breath. Chris closes the door behind him. He takes a shaky step forward, then another until he's to the bed. Josh shifts. Chris freezes up, teeth clenched, jaw locked. The hair on his neck rises.

Josh's nose twitches, sniffing softly, before an eye cracks open. It darts around unfocused, iris white and clouded. Josh sighs, eye slipping closed.

"Hey Cochise." Josh whispers softly.

Chris tenses up. "Hey."

"Room's a mess. Sorry." Josh mumbles, rolling onto his side, back to Chris.

"So is mine." Chris says, carefully approaching the boy on the bed. He places a hand on Josh's shoulder, smoothing his fingers along the chilled skin. Josh turns his head, eyes opening slowly. Chris sighs in relief when they're the usual color.

"Wasn't a dream, was it?" Josh smiles slowly.

"No." Chris mumbles.

Josh nods, forcing himself up. His arms shake slightly. He runs a hand through his hair, ignoring the clumps that fall out with it. Josh's bottom lip trembles.

"Why are you here, Chris?"

"To help."

Josh frowns. "You can't, Cochise."

"You have to trust me, preach." Chris says, voice strong and firm despite how terrified he is. Josh looks up at him, eyes dark and tired. He reaches a hand out, softly caressing the side of Chris' face. His eyes flicker to Chris' injured arm.

"You're bleeding."

Chris looks down at his sleeve. "You can tell?"

"Yeah. Makes my stomach hurt." Josh admits. "You should leave. I'm not in a good place. He's asleep. Go, please, Chris. Go."

"Josh-"

"I almost ripped apart your dad." Josh says. "I almost ripped him into tiny shreds and ate him and I would've, would've destroyed him. I don't know why I didn't. This... Feeling. It won't stop, Chris. I'm so hungry. Sooo hungry and you're here." Josh cracks a dark smile. "You're here and you smell so, so fucking good."

Josh's hand darts out, grasping Chris' wrist tightly. He licks his lips, taking in the way Chris tenses up. Josh gives him an apologetic smile. He slowly releases his grip but still holds Chris' wrist.

"You're so scared, Chris."

"You are too."

Josh scoffs but his lips twitch downward. He straightens, leaning forward heavily. It looks like a chore, like Josh is dragging himself through a sink hole. Josh slides off the bed, draping an arm around Chris' shoulder. He sighs sadly when the other tenses up. Chris hesitates. He slowly encircles his arms around Josh's waist, settling against him.

"I'm sorry." Josh whispers softly.

Chris holds him tighter. "Josh, we have a plan. We have-"

"Stop." Josh says sharply, taking a step back. His expression is hard. Green eyes narrowed dangerously. Chris can see the shift, can see the slow beginnings of white. Josh's face softens, slumping back on the bed.

"Just... I don't... Chris." Josh sighs. "What is your plan?"

"Do you trust me?"

Josh stares up at him. "Yes."

Chris absently hopes the rest of this is as easy.