the copycat

Toby felt extremely bubbly as he got himself a huge tray of food from the hospital cafeteria. He precariously added a burger, cookies and tea to this hoard for Felix's sake, because if he could manage eating, he'd be just as starving as Toby was. He imagined part of his current energy was a manic, relief based rush overwhelming him after all the panic attacks, sobbing fits, and sickening guilt. So, he had a skip in his step and Felix on the mind, quickly making his way back to his room.

He saw a nurse lurking around outside, and after briefly interrogating her, was told Felix tried to get out of bed. He gave a tiny sigh and went back in. After setting the food down and sitting in his seat again, same positioning as before, he started back in on his chatter. It was something he did when either nervous or excited, and he happened to be both right then. "I talked to the nurse, and since you aren't behaving, I guess I have to stay and watch you. I know you want to go, but you can't yet, Felix, you need to rest and heal up. Please. Look, I brought you food. And I was thinking if the hospital food is shitty, I could smuggle stuff in, anything you want. I'm good at that, do it all the time at work."

He bit the inside of his cheek, then his face lit up as he remembered something else he could infodump about. "Oh! I want you to-- I want you to know that Mittens is okay. And not starving or anything. I made sure he was taken care of when I checked your apartment, even though you weren't there, so you don't have to worry about him. I think he misses you… Anyway, just thought you should know." Toby was firmly of the belief that Felix shouldn't die, because then, not only would Toby be lonely, but Mittens would, and that was probably more relevant here. The cat couldn't end up living in his garbage stalker haven apartment with no Felix, that wouldn't be right.

Toby wondered why he was like this. Part of his spite towards normalcy was probably the fact that he knew he could never have it, even if he were to try, and try, and try. He wasn't sure if there was something in him, that pressing feeling that made him so hyperaware and sensitive to horrors in the world, or if he was a purely ordinary human aside from his shitty powers, and there was nothing to blame for anything other than himself. And he didn't know which one would be worse. No, no, he knew which one was worse. One had excuses, and the other was literal evil.

He'd screwed up with Felix before they'd even started, and that just made him quietly bitter. He wasn't really sure what to do, but then again, he wasn't usually. He just looked at Felix, big, round eyes meeting dead ones. He broke the eye contact to awkwardly look at the floor, kicking his feet a little, like a child. "I'm not thinking any of that," he mumbled, voice small. His heart leapt at those words, 'I love you', mixing in oddly with everything else and making him dizzy. "I know," he said to the sick comment, even fainter, head slightly tilting in that familiarly odd and owlish way. He never made any secret of being sick. Far, far from it.

Felix wasn't the first person Toby had inspired suicidal feelings in. He was just the first where it hadn't been intentional. Toby wanted to say something impulsive and hostile, like he usually would in this kind of situation, with a broken person. Something like 'You don't even need my help with motivation for killing yourself, Felix', but the awful word vomit never came like he expected it to. Not with Felix. Never with Felix. But somehow, he fucked up anyway.

This was why Toby acted how he did. It felt so much better to pretend he was doing it all on purpose, rather than to have the negative reactions and fuckups simply happen no matter what he did. He blushed and ducked his head further in shame. He wasn't sure what to do, when he couldn't lash out, apologies didn't cut it, and playing best friend was off the table.

He kept staring at the floor. He wasn't supposed to be here, but that didn't stop him. Master of inappropriate and stalker extraordinaire, he wasn't a stranger to being an entirely unwanted presence, but having a full and obsessive heart anyway. He was like a cat, looking you right in the face, seeming weird and self aware, awkward when called out, but proceeding to tip your glass of water right off the countertop. He just kept thinking about Felix, uncomfortable interest feeling like it was crawling all over his body, repetitive thoughts, heartbeat loud, cheeks flushing less from shame and more for other reasons again. He wanted to follow him home. He needed more pictures. He-- speaking of cats.

"No," Toby grumbled petulantly. "Mr. Bastard can fight me to the death for Mittens privileges. He has a special cat face and toes and I love him."

Toby squirmed, feeling anxiousness in his chest. "I-I told you why I'm here. You need to stay in the hospital and get better, I'm scared if I look away you'll just be-- gone-- I couldn't find you anywhere, I mourned, Felix! I mourned and had panic attacks in my car when I wasn't looking, um. I just really love you… I'm thinking about dumb things, an' you, and your cat and how I always fuck stuff up, whether I try to or not, s-so I prefer doing it on purpose. Because this… feels really bad… especially because you don't make me feel bad." He went quiet. "I'm sorry that isn't mutual. I know I make you feel really bad, and that it's bad for me to feel shitty like this over it 'cause it's my fault even if I d-didn't wanna, uh…"

He swallowed. He was really bad at words. "I meant to say I'm not trying to make you… guilty? Is it? I'm sorry… you didn't hurt me, but you got hurt, that's why I'm…"

Toby screwed up his nose a little, irritated. "Deliberately hurt people, not you. They aren't you. I didn't go to your house and attack you. That would've been easy, if I'd intended to. You weren't part of that. And I thought, if you were ever--" What did he think? "You wanted to catch me. And I would've let you. Because it would be fair, with you, and worthy, not like with anyone else who could try…?" He tripped over his own words clumsily as he explained the broken logic of a mentally ill criminal. "I'm… scared. I don't know when my luck is going to run out. If I'm going to end, I'd want it to be because of you, over anything else. I guess I'm a coward, is what I'm saying. I'm paranoid, I feel like my time is up, like it was already up years ago when my father murdered me and I'm just walking on a fucking burning tightrope now. If you were to cut that tightrope, I could accept the fall, but otherwise, I'm scared to the point of sickening apathy."

Toby slowly pressed a hand to one side of his eyes, rubbing a temple. "Shit…" he said, quietly, in realization. "I didn't… aw, fuck, F-Felix. I didn't ever think you'd care about me that much. I'm not very lovable. I wasn't thinking about-- I don't think like that, Felix. I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't realize I could, in that light. It didn't sink in, because it isn't normal, people don't… with me? Me? I'm…" He trailed off. Confused, embarrassed, and apologetic. "I'm sick, like you said, and I've always been very genuine with you. I'm only able to jerk around hearts when I plan it out, otherwise I'm just… awkward, awful Toby."

He settled down with his rambling again. He didn't know how much sense he was making, so he thought it'd be better to shut up.

This was colder than Felix's anger and disgust with him. It was so resigned, final, and sad. That rubbed Toby the wrong way. He blushed when Felix looked at him, wanting to hold his hand again. "I didn't realize it would be this soon either," he whispered, "But you're a really, really good cop. You have a doctorate and everything."

It didn't make him feel any better, to be told it 'wasn't his fault', but that Felix never should've given him the gift of caring in the first place. Simple as that. Like he was a stray animal that kept coming back after being fed out of pity, and of course, the blame there was on the one who had given him the food. It was a mistake. Toby was a mistake. He knew, he knew.

Feeling dehumanized was usually a positive for Toby, so this was weird. He'd even invited it through his rambling, telling Felix he hadn't known better, didn't really deserve to be cared about, and that he'd hoped to be arrested. A frown set in his face as he thought this over.

No purpose, no friends, no family, just him. "A shitty consolation prize, huh," Toby mumbled. He was quiet for a moment, before making a face and glancing back at Felix again. "…Y'know, what the fuck are you even talking about, Felix? You think you achieved divine failure just because, what, you couldn't arrest some jackass one time? You've gotta be kidding me. Like the gods care about that shit, or me, for that matter! It means absolutely nothing to them. It's about overall performance. Since you aren't dead right now, clearly your otherwise shiny record is the real focus here, or your shit with me isn't fully bad. Maybe even both. That's the conclusion. Christ, Felix, I love you, but this is ridiculous. I didn't erase anything that makes you special, because I'm not that special, and I don't want to take that shit away. Hell, I respect it, in you."

It was true that Toby couldn't understand. He wasn't like Felix. He didn't have a purpose-- he was just an ordinary human, trying to find survival and meaning in anything he could manage to scrape together.

And Felix meant a lot to him. He understood that, even if he didn't understand anything else. He looked down when he was touched, visibly caught off guard, but didn't cringe away from it or stiffen. He slowly turned his hand around and laced their fingers together, squeezing, breath caught in his throat for a moment. "I'm still here because I love you, and this is what you do when someone you care about runs off and nearly dies. Making sense yet?"

Toby bit down hard on his lip. "Meaning. Right. What all of it was for…" He shut his mouth, and he thought, seriously. He was good at brainstorming, as a storyteller. He thought about where the story would go from here, what could keep them together without sacrificing everything else important. What kind of plot twist he would've put in. An idea struck. It was… unconventional. It changed the game and the dynamic. He wasn't sure Felix would take to it well, and it was a very questionable move on his part, but it buzzed under his skin with interest. It would've been adored in fiction, plotlines around that kind of theme were popular these days. He shifted his eyes and hummed.

He inhaled. "What if… humor me on my crazy shit for a minute, please. What if I helped you? With your work? In this… hypothetical situation… it's useful. I know a lot already. You're not the most by the books detective in the world, but I can take that further, without as much risk. Aside from a tiny handful of people, I feel no loyalty or kinship with other criminals, and being a dirty rat wouldn't be far from my current filthy rodent status."

A pause. "Manta Carlos is a big, scary, outlandish place, with big, scary, outlandish crime, and people who outright get so dramatic they call themselves fucking supervillains. I can get inside that mindset even better than you can, Felix. Criminal informants aren't uncommon at all, and even extreme types aren't unheard of. And I have... a whole clusterfuck of motivations for agreeing to be one."