Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

Hurt	By : DoveCG Category: +G through L > Jak & Daxter Views: 1643 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Jak & Daxter, nor anything else in their franchise. Naughty Dog does. I make no money writing this. I doubt anyone would pay me for it anyway.

Chapter List
- 1-Hurt
- 1
Author's Note:
Inspired by a post on tumblr. I didn't get it quite right... I wrote it from Dax's POV and thus didn't capture the purpose of said post but fuck, I don't care. :P
I should really be writing for other stuff, but whatever. It can always wait.

The deepest shadows were wreathed in a salty staleness and dank moss. Both the green and yellow sun were peeking in with only the mildest curiosity from their lofty thrones, held high in the summer sky by wobbly stilts made of streaming light. Breaking across the shore were the foaming waves, who tried to soothe him with their lullaby of gentle memories that weren't enough this time.
Daxter remained huddled inside the broken stone Sentinel, his back to the world. Outside everything was way too bright. None of it matched his mood and he hated it all the more for going on as if nothing had happened. Normally he could act the same and brush everything off as if he were untouchable, but today was one of those days where it had slowly been building up a relentless siege against his carefully constructed mental fortress and all it took was one really good, focused blast to get the walls crumbling down again.
Now he was a little bundle of misery, rubbing his arms against the slight chill in spite of the oh so warm and cheery weather. He wanted to stand and walk around, but he'd already done that. It didn't do any good, so he'd hidden himself away until some of the panic-inducing, gut-wrenching, throat-tightening sorrow abated. He wasn't even certain how long he'd been there. An hour? Maybe more? What did it matter anyway? No one else cared.
Tapered ears twitched idly as he heard the crunch of sandals on the beach and for a split second, some spark of hope rose up before it was drowned out by scattered insults that could never be denied, no matter what he did. Daxter flinched when he finally felt that familiar gaze settling on him and he squeezed his thin, gangly arms once in preparation for dealing with whatever might come of it.
The silence became less empty when Jak finally sat down beside him, but Daxter refused to look up. Pebbles and jagged chunks alike were easier to talk to right now. It wasn't until he felt the sun-warmed hand patting his bent back that the red head gave up the fight to ignore his best friend. Dax slumped forward, his face buried in his knees as he hugged them to his chest, and sighed.
“... No.”
Daxter had summed up what was wrong and why he didn't want to talk about it in one word quite well, if he did say so himself. Everything was just one big, fat, ugly no. Why shouldn't Daxter work with what he'd been given? Oh, sure, they said it differently, each and every one of them. Some of them were more subtle than others. It wasn't a refusal of what Daxter might want or even what he could aspire to be. The word meant everything the bucktoothed kid was, in a nutshell. He was forever going to get it all wrong, no matter what it was or how hard he tried, and he should feel bad about that, forever. He was born a fuck-up and he'd stay that way. No one in Sandover thought he was worth more; not even Keira and she liked him! As a friend anyway.
Secretly, he was positive that Jak felt the same as everyone else. Daxter had simply never wanted to explore that painful truth. After all, even Daxter couldn't get his best friend to talk, when it was clear that Jak could make the sounds necessary and understood the language perfectly well. That was probably Dax's biggest failing right there. He'd never been able to help his pal overcome the vow of silence or speech anxiety or whatever it was. It was some kind of muteness, but not physically imposed.
Jak hugged him and Daxter sniffled. He'd been determined not to cry and he'd at least done okay at that. There was more moisture than he'd wanted now and again, but his cheeks were dry. If Daxter was going to fail anyway, then he could try being so manly that it wasn't that obvious when he flubbed. Now he was dangerously close to losing it, thanks to that simple show of kindness and sympathy, which made him uncertain whether he wanted Jak to continue or to shove his friend away. In the end, lethargy won.
Daxter sat there like a mindless lump, wallowing in self-pity and hating his inevitable weakness with a dark passion. Having his friend there helped, but the red head couldn't pull himself out of his bad mood. He was smoldering with anger and self-righteousness that had nowhere to go and not a single weapon to use against the object of his rage. Worst of all, his voice began to crack slightly as soon as he opened his mouth, which made him feel ridiculous. It was something that had started recently in general, and he'd been told it was normal for boys his age, but the suppressed suffering wasn't going to play nice; it had to add on to what was already an unpleasant trait and make him sound even more pathetic while he whined.
“I wish I was dead sometimes,” Daxter said, “I want them to die too, but if I took 'em down with me, they'd just tell me I screwed up in hell. Like I couldn't even kill anybody right. Or I'd die trying, and not manage to kill anyone, but me! I'd probably trip and fall on my own sword or somethin', ya know? Just embarrass myself while I'm at it.”
He felt Jak sit up straighter at that, but that strong arm never left his hunched shoulders. Daxter sighed.
“Not that I can even lift a sword,” Daxter mumbled, “I already tried that. Just for kicks... See if I could. Then I got yelled at for touchin' stuff I'm not supposed to and insultin' some out of town schmuck.”
The hug after that was so fierce it almost winded him, and Daxter grunted irritably.
“Ah, stop it, big guy. Not like you really care,” Dax said, “If you did, you'd at least say somethin'!”
He knew he'd stepped out of line with that, but the surge of bitterness wouldn't leave him. Inwardly, he rejoiced when Jak twitched for a moment against his side, as if jolted by a static shock. But it didn't make the other boy decide to leave and that was a better victory.
“I hate you too,” Daxter said, “Sometimes... You make me seem worse than I already am, tough guy! You're like my oh so awesome shadow that keeps showin' me up at every turn, instead of just followin' along and doin' what I do!”
That got him a hard knuckle rubbed into his scalp and Daxter chuckled as he squirmed, trying to avoid the teasing attack. He finally looked up, rubbing at eyes that seemed more swollen and puffy precisely because they had kept all the salt water in check, and saw the annoyed smirk on Jak's face.
You were asking for that.
Daxter went back to hugging his knees to his chest, shrugging idly. Maybe he had. After all, he'd tried to get Jak as riled up as he was, but it didn't seem to work. Another failure. Probably a good one to have though. He didn't want his best friend to truly despise him as much as he despised himself.
“And it's awful when they don't say what they're thinkin',” Daxter said, “'Cause I can usually see it on their face, even when they wanna be polite about how much I suck.”
“... No, you don't,” Jak said, “You don't suck.”
The scrawny red head sat upright and stared at his friend, still wondering if he'd heard him right... or heard him at all! Dax hadn't been looking at the time. Had Jak really said that? About him?! Dax swallowed hard and nodded uncertainly, but he couldn't agree with his hero just yet.
“What am I good at?” Daxter asked, “Huh? Nothin'! I might as well try livin' with some o' the more human-lookin' lurkers, if they'd let me! Probably wipe the floor with me instead, if they thought I was worth beatin' up in the first place.”
Jak sighed, but continued to look straight into Daxter's misty blue eyes, his worry unwavering. The blond with green roots seemed caught somewhere between an anxious frown and a sympathetic smile. Then he gave up, unable to find the words maybe or unwilling to say anything more, and went back to giving Daxter a one-armed hug. The way Jak intermittently squeezed the thin, bony shoulder under his steady grip, and leaned into Daxter's side, warmed Dax inside and out, proving what truly mattered.
Daxter's best friend didn't want him to go away. Ever. It was a lot to mull over. In the end, the poor little guy finally let loose a few of the sobs still tickling his throat. He hadn't cried since he was really young, after losing everything. For once, it almost felt like a relief to give in... to willingly show how hapless he was. Maybe, just maybe, it would be all right. Jak didn't mind. His buddy liked him anyway, even if Daxter was a blubbering idiot.
They'd always be pals.
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Hurt