Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I am Jack’s fatal insomnia.
Near fatal insomnia.

Coffee didn’t have the same appeal that it used to. I hadn’t realized how dependent I had become on the substance since this whole ordeal began. With Marla, and then with Tyler.

My latest substitute for coffee had become staying up with Tyler and his antics. It wasn’t like I had a choice if Marla was around anyways. I don’t know why he insisted upon sleeping with her still, he knew she was crazy. And he knows that I can’t stand her. But what does it matter, Tyler is crazy. Marla brought out something in me that was the opposite of what Tyler did. There obviously wasn’t much between them. Marla was bored of trying to kill herself, and Tyler probably just wanted to get his dick wet. At least I hope.

Marla was over again last night, and was finally leaving around the same time the birds woke up. I was already awake. She hadn’t screamed as loud as usual last night, but it didn’t matter, I stayed awake anyways. This morning I bothered to creep downstairs for coffee. Stalking down the stairs and stepping lightly across the creaky floorboards. For some reason I’m almost scared of coming across Tyler.For the same reason that I can’t explain, my heart beats out of my chest around him. It’s as if my body knows something about him that I don’t. Like those who pick up on psychopaths and serial killers before everyone else does.

I am Jack’s unstable tachycardia.

As I turned the corner into the kitchen, my heart calmed itself. Of course, I was met by Marla. She gave me that look she always does. The look that all depressed drug addicts seem to have painted across their faces. The disposition that screamed “My mother didn’t love me, and now I’m sad”.

“Still not sleeping?” she asked, pretending like she gives a fuck. Of course I wasn’t, not now, not with all this. Not since she ruined my groups, not since she ruined my- Tyler, she ruined my life with Tyler. She was a damn tourist, a stupid tourist, going wherever she pleased with no respect for locals or their way of life. My way of life.

“No.” I chided her, because she should know better, she does know better. Tyler was better off without her, I was better off without her. If I had a tumor, I'd name it Marla.

“Bummer. Maybe you’ll work it out now.” She took a long drag from a cigarette, probably one she bummed off Tyler. He probably lit it for her as well. That pissed me off too. The idea that Tyler would give her anything, not just a good fuck, pissed me off.

“What are you talking about?” I might as well have begged her to know. Was she running away to Guatemala? Was sleeping with Tyler no longer good enough suicide prevention? Maybe the doctors finally found a medication that would cure her depression and insatiable yearning for people that are just as shitty as her.

“I’m bored again, I think I’ll find a new group. This place is starting to feel like a psychiatrist’s office. So maybe I’ll check in every once in a while when the pills don’t work that well.”

Oh my God.

“He’s all yours, Psycho Boy.” My nickname. Tyler’s nickname for me. Somehow she had found out about it. Why did it feel so wrong to hear someone else use it?

I am Jack’s defensive nature.

I cornered her.

“The fuck are you implying Marla?” Her sunken eyes passed over me, sizing me up like prey. Another long drag off a cigarette. Followed by a sly smile that would probably unnerve some of the biggest guys in the club. I hated the way Marla wasn’t scared of anything. Her constant disregard for life oozed out of her like cold sewage from a leaky pipe. You could smell it from a mile away too.

“I’ll let you figure that out” She slid past me like nothing had happened. Like a stranger in a grocery store. I feel like in some other life Marla and I could’ve gotten along. Maybe if she hadn’t thrown off my balance. I’m sure she felt just as lost as I do. She just coped in a way that collided with my entire being.

Chapter Text

Tyler hadn’t made his daily appearance yet. I wondered if he knew about Marla’s fight or flight decision. I’m sure he’ll gallop down the stairs in his notorious bathrobe, ready to crash through any chaos causing plans he had for the day. I sat in the kitchen expectantly, my body swaying alongside the house in the wind. With more birds on powerlines, you could tell colder weather was approaching. When it eventually snows, Tyler and I are screwed. We’re going to have to cut the power once again. There’s a run down fireplace near the center of the house, and there might be a furnace in the basement, but I’m not going down there to check. My condo was my safety from the rest of the world. A nest high above everyone else, filled to the brim with all sorts of treasured items purchased from a Scandinavian catalog. My coffee table and decorative rugs kept me insulated in the harsh winter, what will I do now?

If a penguin is my power animal, why does the thought of the cold bother me so much? Penguins don’t just weather the cold on their own. They huddle together. Of course they do. I wondered what Tyler’s power animal is, if he even has one. Maybe it’s a leopard, with large fangs and claws, something made to tear people apart. Tearing people apart is his speciality, physically and mentally. God knows he’s torn me apart.

Today is a Saturday. Tonight we’re going to the solitary basement under the bar. Tonight we’re beating each other senseless. I might not fight this go around. I prefer to watch Tyler. He hasn’t been in many fights but I’m sure he has a natural talent for them. Tyler fights like he’s dancing. Every movement is carefully thought out in a matter of seconds. I hear footsteps down the stairs, echoing through the otherwise quiet house like a herd of antelope running across the plains. Speak of the Devil.

I took a deep breath. My heart pounding out of my chest. I look upon my savior as he rounds the corner. There he is, in all his magnificent glory. Glory being a dingy bathrobe patterned with colorful coffee mugs, tied loosely. His collarbones peak out of the top half, and an unlit cigarette hangs from his lips

“Mornin’ Sunshine” He says with one side of his mouth.

“Morning.” I pitifully smile at him. I’m sure he sees right through my near-zombified state. My hands almost tremble around the coffee pot as I pour myself a cup into an unwashed mug.

“Coffee?” I slightly gesture the pot towards him. He nods and slides another mug towards me. After I pour his cup, he grabs it away swiftly, and in one quick motion lays his arm against the small of my back and plants a small peck on my temple. “Thanks dear” He moves on to fidgeting with something on a nearby counter. Tyler is an affectionate man, more sarcastically so than most. I like to entertain the thought that he actually cares about me, I probably would never know. I consider him my friend, sometimes I wonder what he considers me. A roommate? A pet-project? Some weak corporate slave attempting to escape the Hell he created for himself? A 30 year old boy stupid enough to follow him to the ends of the Earth?

Maybe all of the above.

He turns his attention back towards me. His stare pierces through every fiber of my being. Like Superman and his X-Ray vision. Sometimes I wish I was made of lead.

“How many guys you think we’ll see tonight huh?” He takes a sip of his stale coffee, and trades the mug for a lighter from his bathrobe pocket, lighting his cigarette.

“At least 20. Last time we went there were nearly 15, I’m starting to wonder about the first rule and all.”

He snickered. “Shit me too. Feels like it was just us duking it out in a parking lot yesterday.” He was almost reminiscing about something that was just a few weeks back. Tyler had managed to be nostalgic. All I could think about was what else did he miss? He just seemed to stare off into space. It was often that Tyler just stopped and vanished mid-conversation.

I broke the silence. “Marla’s gone now, you know.” I hoped to God that it wouldn't be a sensitive subject for him. Earth to Tyler. He perked back up.

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Probably time for that psychobitch to move on anyways. She’s not a bad fuck or anything, but I got more important things to deal with”

“Like what?” I basically begged to know. What could Tyler find more important now?

“Fight Club! You and me buddy. All sorts of fucked up shit and the like” He tossed out.

You and Me.

I am the butterflies in Jack’s stomach.

Chapter Text

It was finally time.

I stood cramped in my usual spot in the basement. The slightly damp floor making my shoes feel uneasy against the concrete. Many smells met my olfactory nerve, causing a small twinge to my soul. Mildew and sweat mixed together to form some type of sickening cocktail that I should’ve been used to by now. Every time we met together for Fight Club, all my senses took at least half an hour to readjust. Almost like my nervous system had to transition from the outside world to some primal schema that Tyler had drawn up out of me.

My nose was taking its time adjusting tonight, but my eyes had already become accustomed to the dim lighting, made shiny by my slight astigmatism. My hearing was already filtering out the cries of the men fighting before us, every thud and crack had become muted in my mind. My tongue moved around in my mouth, glossing over every tooth and the occasional pocket in my gums, serving as a missing poster for the bone that had previously occupied it. I could still taste the small tinge of leftover blood.

The only sense left empty was touch. I ached for something.

The fight between the two current guys had wrapped up. One left triumphant, walking around the circle of men like a newly crowned champion. He finally offered a hand to his bruised and battered opponent. The loser was slightly younger, who was probably going to go home to a mother who was concerned as to his whereabouts, and would question his new injuries. But of course he was going to stop by the Emergency Department first.

A summons went out through the crowd for two new fighters. The new guys had already fought plenty tonight. It was time for seasoned veterans of the club. Before I know it, Tyler is practically leaping to the center. The crowd of men surrounding him blend into a chorus of near white noise. You would think that any of his loyal followers would be jumping at the chance to fight their violent equivalent of God. But no. Maybe the pedestal they put him on was finally high enough to where they couldn’t see anymore.

Just as fast, Tyler was beckoning to me with an outstretched palm. Almost like a sick invitation to dance. The crowd erupted. What better entertainment than the founders of Fight Club actually fighting. It had been a while since I had last participated. It had been maybe forever since I had last fought Tyler. At this moment I do not care whether I win or lose. Being close to Tyler is perfectly enough for me. And everyone else seeing me in his vicinity is more than I could ever ask for. I am one of his apostles.

Separately, I prepare myself. Removing my shoes and shirt. I am underweight to the point where I can nearly see my heart beating through my chest. It’s elevated rate jumping out, and complementing the respirations that rock my entire torso. While the basement isn’t the most freezing place, my body still reacts to the cold chill of my nervous sweat beginning to evaporate. And now I must make my way to face him.

I stand directly opposed to Tyler. His imposing frame directly contrasting my near silent one. His body glistens in the dim lighting. A cigarette rests between his lips, helping to perfectly complete his cunning image. How is it that he and I corroborate when we seem barely nothing alike? It doesn’t matter. He is sizing me up, he doesn’t need to. I have stood face to face with him time and time again. I am his prey. He is a stalking predator waiting to strike and eat me while I’m still breathing.

He flicks away his cigarette. In a matter of milliseconds, we connect.

He practically pounces at me. Closing the few feet between us quickly. I feel his fist hit my torso. It wasn’t the hardest punch I’ve ever felt from Tyler, but its proximity to my liver made it agony. The fear within me holding my crumpled body together, I swung at him. My knuckles managed to make contact at the side of his jaw. My left foot making a pitiful attempt to get him in his shin.

We exchanged blows back and forth, and even though he shoved me a number of times, I still managed to hold my ground. It was always impressive when fights stayed upright for a period of time like this. Every hit between us was exchanged with more uproar from the crowd. Some little urge beckoned me to make an attempt to finish this. In a quick swoop, I brought us both to the ground. The crowd erupted. I landed chest to chest with him, and we began wrestling to find purchase. For just a moment of time, I was on top of Tyler. I had straddled his hips to keep him on the ground. I saw the amusement in his eyes.

I am Jack’s adrenal glands.

He bucked up his hips and threw me to the side. He landed a solid punch to my mouth and noise. And so the blood began to flow. Finally the exhaustion began to creep in. I tapped out. Tyler was the obvious winner, but I would still get to keep my little victory to myself. The crowd rumbled and cheered. Tyler helped me back to my feet, bringing me into a semi-embrace.

“Atta Psycho Boy”

My soul screamed trying to claw its way out of my chest.

As our meeting came to a close, I began the attempt to put myself back together as Tyler began to hand out what he called “homework”. When asked about it, he told me not to worry. Apparently all I needed to do was “sit there and look pretty”.

With my shirt and shoes back in place, and the majority of the bleeding stopped, Tyler and I watched the rest of the men depart outside the bar and make their way back to their ordinary lives with a few more scars and bruises.