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trash-writes-stuff · 4 years

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Metathesiophobia (Scriddler)

Gotham has seen its fair share of chaos in the past years, but nothing could prepare them for the trouble that started brewing when two certain rogues met under the not-so-loving roof of Arkham Asylum.

Chapter Three:

So When You See Me Come Up for Air Don't Try to Hold Me Down

(Warning for panic attacks)

Jon was slowly coming to regret ever offering Edward to sit with Harley and him. Day after day, Edward came back to sit with them. Day after damned day, this ridiculous, annoyingly clever man was getting further and further under his skin. Jon just couldn’t take it, because it wasn’t the near-constant bickering that bothered him, it wasn’t even how much Edward spoke. It was the very fact that those things, which would have usually made him gas or emotionally traumatize the person, now for some reason didn’t bother him at all. It was how much he enjoyed the gingers company that did the trick.

It also didn’t help that Edward had decided to join their little ‘Girl Talk’, which had been a strictly Jon and Harley thing until Nygma showed up. What was worse, Jonathan actually liked having Edward around. He was full of gossip about everyone and anyone, which was useful because even though Jon wasn’t very keen on blackmailing, it could come in handy.

From the fact that Jonathan was growing fond of Edward arose another problem. Jonathan was an introvert; he was famed for it. So, it was natural that after some time he would lose the energy he needs to socialize and turn plain miserable. It was at times like those he needed some alone time, some time to recharge and think stuff through. Harley recognized when he got like this and gave him space. Edward, however, seemed to lack the phrase ‘personal space’ in his vocabulary, and wouldn’t step off. It was almost as if the lack of Harley’s presence didn’t strike him as odd, even though Harley was always seen by ether Ivy’s or Jonathan’s side. Hell, he probably thought that Harley just wanted to spend more time with her girlfriend, but even when times like that did come, she talked to the ex-professor at least once a day.

Jon could not, for the life of him, find the strength to tell Edward to fuck off for a while, nor could he tell Eddie what was really happening. Usually, he would offend the person and throw gritty insults at them until they left, but he just didn’t have the strength to do it today. However, he would have to something as he was coming far too close to slipping into the Scarecrow persona. That would be unpleasant, for both him and everyone around him, and it would give the doctors just enough of an excuse to give him more pills to drink.

He hated the meds he was on. They made him feel so weak, so easily irritable at times, and the ones they added when Jon fell into the comfort of the Scarecrow made him have constant headaches and his whole body felt so heavy, he could barely move.

Scarecrow was a defense mechanism, one that the Arkham doctors wanted to destroy with drugs and therapy. You can’t destroy things like that, Jon wanted to protest, they are part of a person’s psyche and will never truly leave. But who would listen to an ex-professor with an invalid Ph.D. in psychology? Not the Arkham staff, he could tell you that much.

Jonathan had zoned out a while ago, as he was in no mood to listen to whatever the hell Edward was rambling on about. He was just so tired of talking, of listening others talk, and maybe if he ignored Edward for a while the man would get the hint. Jon could have stood up and left, but he would ultimately be unable to escape Edward as they were in the rec room, and him going anywhere would result in a whole lecture from Edward on how it was impolite to just leave whilst someone is talking to them. So, he just had to sit here for the next 15 minutes and tolerate the endless talking. So be it.

“-nd I mean it’s such a pointless…” Edward stopped talking for a second, turning his head to look at Jon who was currently curled up on the other end of the couch, looking somewhere in the distance. The sudden pause caused Jonathan to snap back to reality, as he turned to look back at Edward. “Jonathan, are you even listening to me?” Questioned the ginger in an annoyed tone. Jon looked at him blankly, his eyes dull.

He couldn’t even hear Edward properly at this point, so he just tried reading his lips. Looking at them, Jon realized how girly Edwards lips were. They were plump, the top lip being a little smaller than the bottom one, his cupid's bow was symmetrical and sharp. And if one looked hard enough, they would see the nasty-looking scar that the stitches left on and above his upper lip. They looked so soft too, he must have used chapstick. God, how perfect could a man get? Jon’s head was spinning at this point. Loud yelling snapped him out of his thoughts. It took a moment to recognize what the voice was saying and who the owner was.

“-athan! Jonathan! Earth to Jonathan! Do you copy?!” Edward was yelling at this point, waving his arms around his head, trying to signal the auburn-haired man in any way. Jon shook his head, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. God, he needed peace. He needed to be alone.

“Alright punks, rec time is over. Get moving.” One of the guards yelled. Jonathan thanked whatever spirit was out there, quickly stood up and rushed off to be taken back to his cell. Edward yelled after him, but Jon couldn’t even hear him. He needed to get out of there, he needed to get away and he needed to be alone. He was going to have a panic attack if everyone didn’t shut up immediately.

He was led back to his cell, and the rough treatment he always received from the guard only making the anxiety in his chest expand. His whole chest area felt so tight, and he felt like throwing up. He was going to snap the guard’s neck; he was going to whisper the most horrific things known to man into the fucker’s ear until he was nothing but a pathetic screaming mess on the floor. He was going to open him up and-

He was left alone in his cell. But the cell was loud too, each breath bouncing off the walls, the shadows beckoning for him to join them. The walls were so thin, he could hear everyone, god he could hear them, and he was going to tear his ears off if the noise didn’t stop. He would tear his eyes out if it meant that he wouldn’t have to see anything but the darkness at that moment.

They were screaming, the damn walls were screaming at him and he couldn’t do anything but curl up in the corner opposite of the bed and sit there praying for it to end.

It was these nights the screaming bothered him. When he wished for nothing but silence, the screams seemed to get louder, when he wanted nothing more than them to stop, they just louder and louder and-

His breathing was heavy, the air was heavy, his whole body was heavy and whether he realized it or not he was shaking. He was shaking hard. He wasn’t cold, he wasn’t warm either, he was just so numb, and his head was ringing, and he couldn’t even lay down on the pathetic excuse for a bed. He just sat on the floor in the corner of his cell, shaking and panting in the darkness of the room.

God, he could hear the crows, the crows, the damn crows. They were so loud; they were always screaming. He was in the chapel again; how was he back there again!? He killed the old woman years ago, yet he could still hear her singing ‘Amazing Grace’ just outside the door. The crows would get him again; they would come again; they would hurt him again. The chapel was so big but there wasn’t anywhere to run; they would smell him, and they would find him, and they would tear him to pieces until they reached his bones, until there wasn’t anything left but bones. Oh, the bones he could feel the bones of her hands on his leg; on his shoulder; on his head. On his throat. He was choking; he couldn’t breathe.

Sinful child, you thought I wouldn’t find you.

He wanted to scream but his throat gave up on him, all sound lost before it could leave him; he couldn’t scream, he couldn’t cry out for help. There was no help, no savior. The tune of ‘Amazing Grace’ was screaming in his ears. His eyes were watering, threatening to spill tears. He just wanted to be alone. He just wanted to be alone. He just wanted for it all to stop and he wanted to be alone.

He tried screaming again, tried to drown out the noise in his head with the one in the air but he couldn’t. He stayed as quiet as a mouse, so quiet that an occasional sniff, a shudder or a particularly deep breath were the only signs that he was even breathing.

Why couldn’t the crows just leave him alone?

God, just let him be alone.

He didn’t remember when or how he had passed out, but the only things he was currently aware of were his puffed eyes and wet cheeks. He wished he’d stayed awake. The night terror shook him to the core. His skin felt so itchy, the old scars on his back and arms were burning again, he felt like tearing his hair out.

At least the noise had stopped. There was finally silence. He crawled over to his bed. He passed out again.

Edward was confused. Had he said something wrong? He knew that his talking could get annoying, but Jonathan never minded it up until now. Hell, Jon always listened to him, sometimes he made his own comments, but he always listened like there was nothing more important.

Eddie had noticed that Jonathan was distant, more so than usual. In the past month, Jonathan had never looked so lost, never looked so blank. There was always something dancing behind his eyes. Now there was strangely nothing.

Edward slammed his head into the pillow with an exasperated sigh. He couldn’t sleep. He needed to know. He wouldn’t be able to rest until he did. The self-proclaimed ‘Master of Fear’ was really making his anxiety rise. The ginger stood up and made the decision to find out what was happening, and tonight.

Slipping out of the cells was easy enough, almost too easy actually. Navigating the halls of Arkham was also child’s play, given the fact that Edward memorized the entire building layout. Avoiding guards wasn’t too hard, because they were all asleep at this point and Edward had learned to sneak at an early age because-

He shook his head. Focus Edward, focus. He reached Crane’s cell, carefully opening the door, only to find the man with his face in the pillow, one leg dangling off. Why did he think this was a good idea again? It was the middle of the god damned night and he expected Jonathan to be awake? Sure, the man was an insomniac, but even this was too much. He was going back to his room.

Before he could turn tail and leave, however, he heard someone make a sound, unlike a whimper. Edward froze, not daring to move. After a few moments passed, he turned around to face Jon again.

That couldn’t have been him, right?

Oh, now he HAD to know. He waited for a few moments, and Edward saw Jon let out something like a pained whine. Crane’s whole body shook as the sound left his throat, and after a few more panicked sounds left the man’s lips, Edward realized exactly what was going on.

He didn’t think this through enough, but here he was, shaking Jonathan Crane, the man who had purposely run away from him a few hours ago, awake from a nightmare. It didn’t take much shaking really; Jon was a light sleeper. The auburn-haired man shot up from the bed with a loud gasp, blinking rapidly. Edward tried to put a hand on Jon’s shoulder as an attempt to comfort the shaking man in front of him, but Jon just jumped and cowered away from the touch.

Jonathan finally raised his head, thinking that he was going through another panic attack when he saw a pair of familiar green eyes. Edward’s whole face was soon visible to Jon, and his first response was to yell. Eddie predicted that Crane would yell, so he put his hand over the trembling man’s mouth, pushing his skeletal frame up against the wall for leverage purposes. He couldn’t afford Jon giving away his presence, he would get tied up and sent back to solitary before he could say ‘Riddle me this’.

Crane struggled against Nygma’s hand, and when he finally got it off his face, he smacked Edward right across the face.

“Nygma what the absolute fuck are ya doin’ in ‘ere!?” Jon whisper-yelled in the most honest southern accent Edward had ever heard. It made Edward’s chest flutter with something, but he was quick to brush it off because he had a feeling that if he didn’t answer Crane’s question now the man would pounce on him and skin him alive. Either that, or he’d force Edward to relive his-

“Looking for answers, and before you point out the obvious, I know that yes, it is currently some ungodly hour of the morning. But I really need to talk to you right now.” Edward spoke calmly. God, Jon was going to brutally murder this man one day, he had no idea. Jon did owe Edward for waking him up.

“As long as it has nothin’ to do with what my nightmare was, go right ahead.” Oh, how Edward wanted to pry into what haunted the ‘Prince of Panic’. But not now. Now he wanted to know what made Jonathan run off like demons were chasing him.

“All ya need ta know is that me runnin off was nothin’ personal.” Edward stared at Jon for a good moment or two, before burying his face into Jon’s pillow to stifle his laughter. Jon’s eyes widened, partly out of shock, and partly because Edward’s real laugh was the most angelic sound he had ever heard. His face was buried in the pillow for about a minute, and then he looked at Jon with the most honest and sympathetic smile Jon had ever seen Edward give.

“Oh Jon, you should have told me the moment I started getting too hot for you to handle.” Jonathan had three things racing through his mind at that moment. The first one was the fact that Edward had just referred to him as Jon, which had never happened before; the second was how adorable Edward looked (this one would need to be taken care of in the immediate future); the third was how he was going to put this man down if he didn’t stop his teasing. Crane smirked.

“Oh Eddie, I thought that you just wouldn’t understand.” Jon pouted at the end, blinking innocently a few times (Harley was rubbing off on him) before a genuine smile crossed his face. The nickname, which would have usually irritated Edward to no end, made his pale cheeks turn a bright rosy red. He rolled his eyes out of faux annoyance, before flashing Crane the biggest smile he could muster.

“Oh, shut up.” Eddie said, pushing Jonathan’s shoulder, and Jon couldn’t help but snicker at the childish behavior. “Since when are we on nickname terms, huh?” Asked Edward, almost challengingly, as his smile changed into a smirk. If he wanted a challenge, Jon would give him one. He grabbed Edward by his ginger locks, bringing his own face to Edward’s ear. Edward’s lime eyes shot wide open.

“Since you snuck into my cell.” He said in a low, almost husky voice, and Edward whimpered, his face completely red now. Jon leaned back. “Plus, you started it.”

Edward was frozen for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night. What had just happened? He could blame it on it being around 5 AM, and because he could, he did. If only to ease his mind. He opened his mouth so as to say something, but quickly closed it when he realized he didn’t know what to say. So he just stood up from the bed.

“I, um, I should get going. You do need your alone time, no? So, uh, just start talking to me again when you feel ‘recharged’?” He said very awkwardly, pausing between every word, and making quotation marks with his fingers when he said ‘recharged’. Jon just nodded, and Edward proceeded to leave the room.

“Goodnight, Edward.” Eddie froze at the door.

“G-goodnight, Jonathan.”

He had never run faster in his life.

#scriddler #riddlecrow #riddler #zero year riddler #edward nygma #year one scarecrow #scarecrow #jonathan crane #harley quinn #harleen quinzel #panic attack #tw: panic attack #tw: mental health

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