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The questioning was a nightmare.

Jackson sat beside Officer Walker's small desk, trying to be patient while the cop was gone to grab some paper. His right knee bounced up and down, tapping his foot at a set rhythm that helped soothe his nerves. His teeth grinded against each other, making himself grimace, while his arms were crossed. He could still feel himself reeling from the adrenaline of running away from the killer, and the extra spike he got when he realised Kai had his phone on him.

Kai...

It didn't make any sense to him. Why would Kai do all of this to him? Why would he stalk, terrorize and kill? Kai had money, family, friends - and Jackson never did anything that would incur Kai's wrath. There was no way jealousy, wrath or greed could be his motive. Was he bitter that Jackson hardly spent time with him? Perhaps in the Parker's mind, this was his way of having quality time with the Campbell: by making him fear for his and his friends' lives.

Yes, Kai was different. Jackson knew exactly what he was getting himself into when he chose to date Kai. While his disorder did make him reckless and aggressive, it didn't make him vicious. Or stupid. Because this was the work of someone who was emotionally incompetent. But still, he couldn't deny that the external evidence suggested that Kai was the killer. The idioms, the phone in his pocket, the horror movie references; all of that traced back to Kai.

Was Kai capable of being a killer? He wasn't sure. All men were capable of killing with a little incentive, but Kai didn't strike Jackson as someone who needed an incentive to do something. It was more likely that he was the one dangling that incentive over a man, turning men into monsters.

Nicholas walked over and sat down at his desk, placing down an opened notebook and pulling out a pen from his pocket. Officer Walker was similar in looks to his younger sister, though his hair was short and coily, his eyes several shades darker.

"The date is Tuesday 26th of October..." Nicholas quickly checked his watch. "The time is 11:38pm. The victim's name is Jackson Campbell." He faltered, lowering his pen after he finished writing. "I called Steph. She's gonna come over and take you back to our place so you can crash."

Jackson tried for a small smile. "Thank you, Nick. Really. I don't think I'll be able to go back to my dorm room for a short while."

"You can stay with us for as long as you need. Steph's friends are my friends," Nick smiled. "I'm more concerned if you don't know how she is at home."

"Oh, I know. She stomps around in bunny slippers and carries around a tiger plush she named Terry."

Nicholas nodded, his fingers tapping against the paper. The smile was long gone from his face. "Jay, you mind telling me what happened?"

The Campbell took a deep breath, trying to recollect his thoughts. "I woke up from a nap, the phone was ringing. Kai called saying he was going to come over. Then the phone rang again, but it was a total stranger. He asked me if I was alone and if I wanted to die like my parents. I hung up, called the police..." Jackson hesitated. "And then he was behind me, in a cheap Grim Reaper costume. He chased me but I got downstairs first. And then Kai came out of nowhere, and I realised that he was Lindsay's killer."

There was a couple minutes pause where Nicholas wrote down what Jackson had said. He looked up again, oddly puzzled. "And how do you know?"

"How do I know...?"

"That Mister Parker is the killer."

Jackson blinked. "Because he called me."

"But you said the voice on the phone was a complete stranger?" Nicholas pointed out. Jackson grinded his teeth, before reminding himself that it wasn't good for him. "You know what Mister Parker sounds like on the phone because he called you before the perpetrator did."

"I know it's him because of the language he used. The man on the phone asked me if I liked scary movies and made Jack idiom jokes. Only Kai used Jack idioms to my face, and he loves horror movies."

The cop took a couple moments to write something down. "And the attacker?"

"Also Kai. He was Curtis and Earnshaw killer too."

The Walker narrowed his eyes, making Jackson a little irritated by the reaction. "How so?"

"Because of the phone call. He was threatening me."

"But that doesn't prove Mister Parker to be either killers, nor the person who tried to attack you."

The Campbell stared at the officer, his teeth gritted. He didn't appreciate Nicholas doubting him like that and poking holes in his story. It made him look stupid. He knew what he saw; he knew it had to be only one person. 

"Have you been drinking, Jay?"

Nick's question ripped him away from his internal sulking. "I—"

"I can smell it in your breath," Nicholas pressed his lips together, grim. "This is the worst place to be intoxicated, you know that."

"Don't patronize me."

"It's my job to patronize people, Jackson," Nick glanced around, before leaning in, lowering his voice. "You've been drinking, which means your recollection of events aren't reliable. You're more prone to memory loss, anger and self harm. Worst case scenario, you can induce psychosis within yourself, which means hallucinations and delusions of persecution. Do you understand what I'm trying to say? Clean your act up and get your shit together before you meet the sheriff."

He couldn't stand the look of pity on Nicholas' face, shifting his gaze elsewhere. Memory loss? Fear made sure he remembered everything with perfect clarity, even sobering him up a little. Anger? He hated to admit that he was angered by the man on the phone, to be point of carelessness in the face of danger, and that wasn't remotely like him. Self harm? That wasn't something he would do, and that would never be something he would do.

His right hand drew closer to his left wrist, his nails biting down on his flesh. Psychosis. He wasn't bloody psychotic and it was an insult to his character to suggest that he could be. He thought back to Monday night, when Kai was condescendingly pointing out that sleep deprivation could potentially cause hallucinations. Pearls of blood stained his finger nails. Was Jackson as unstable and crazy as everyone was making him out to be? He wanted to laugh those kinds of laughs that turned into an episode of hysterics and sobbing. It wasn't fair.

"I want to see Kai," His voice came out no louder than a whisper.

Nicholas gave him a pointed look. "You know I can't let you do that, JC."

"Then turn around or go bugger off somewhere, because I may have just gotten an innocent man arrested and I need to make sure I'm right."

Jackson stood, giving the cop a warning look, before walking past all the other officer's desks. The air was a symphony of phone rings and hushed tones, drowning out the uncertainty that blinded Jackson's confidence. Because if it wasn't Kai, then who else could it be? He would be back at square one, left to fend for himself against an invisible enemy.

He made a beeline to a door with a frosted glass window, marked HOLDING CELLS in gold lettering. Twisting the knob, he opened the door and was met with a long and large hallway with three decent sized holding cells. Each cell was enclosed with bars rather than each individual rooms, with long benches of dark wood for places to sit.

The trench coat he wore cast a large shadow of himself as he walked down the hallway, dress boots glinting in the bright white light fixtures overhead. He came to a stop at the last cell, where a young man was sitting on the long bench, his legs stretched out while he rested his head and back against the wall. Jackson could feel his stomach twist now that his uncertainty was heightened.

Kai Parker never looked more bored, with his eyes closed and his chest softly rising and falling with each soundless breath. He watched as the brunet's lips twisted to a frown, as if he could sense another person's presence.

"Leather, cinnamon and ginger," Kai spoke. There was no identifiable emotion in his voice. "Why are you here, Jack?"

"To see you," Jackson responded, softly.

He was wary as Kai opened his eyes, but decided to sit down cross legged with his back against the wall, the cell bars to his right. The Parker studied him, trying to gauge Jackson's motives. Whatever he saw in the Campbell, it must've been inconsequential, as he got up to sit next to Jackson on the other side of the bars. Unlike the watchful erudite, his legs were stretched out, much like his seating position before.

"I thought you were too busy dragging my name through the dirt," Kai didn't seem all that offended, more so mildly curious by the Campbell's appearance.

Jackson narrowed his eyes. "Well here's what I don't get - why? Why did you do it?"

The Parker didn't seem to be listening, irritating Jackson, until Kai coldly replied: "I think your brain really is leaking." When he saw the look of bemusement on the dark eyed man's face, he let out a scoff. "I didn't fucking do it. Think, Campbell. I had a phone because I needed to call you. You would've known if it was me."

"He used Jack idioms, and referenced horror movies."

Kai rolled his eyes. "Jesus, and you know who else uses those idioms? Your professors, and every college idiot who knows you. Not to mention, your own pal Jimmy loves horror movies more than I do. Half the male population likes horror as a genre."

The Campbell fell silent, wrestling with guilt and distrust. Kai wasn't so content with the silence. "I smelled your breath before, I can smell it now too. How much bourbon did you drink?"

"Just... enough to sleep."

"We both know you drank more than you'd like to admit," Jackson didn't like the air of superiority Kai had in his voice. Like the Parker was any better than him. "And sleep? You don't sleep as much as you should. Did someone really call you twice, just to target you? Did someone really try to attack you, huh? Why you?"

"What are you trying to say?" He snapped.

"I think you hallucinated the phone calls, and the killer attacking you."

There was a moment of silence, where Jackson tried to battle against the notion. The notion that everybody seems to think about him. He wasn't crazy. From the peripheral of his right eye, he could catch a hand on the ground, moving towards the bars. Slender fingers were outstretched, his palm facing up. Kai looked... sympathetic, which was a surprise to Jackson. After a pause of deliberation, Jackson's right hand met the cold floor, before drifting towards Kai's hand. Kai's touch was warm as the Campbell laced his fingers through the brunet's own.

"What's going to happen to you?" Jackson asked, quietly.

Kai shrugged, unfazed by the prospect of dealing with cops. "I already called my dad, and they have my phone. Once they check the calls I made, they'll let me go. And then we can continue being us."

Jackson pursed his lips, withdrawing his hand from Kai's hand. He couldn't continue dating Kai until he had a definitive answer. "We can't be together, Kai. I'm sorry."

"Why?" His voice was soft. Jackson refused to look at Kai.

"Because..." I love you. "I can't trust you."

He glanced over at the Parker, unable to hide the misery from his face. Kai, however, only looked mildly disappointed. Jackson had to remind himself that Kai didn't feel emotions on the same range as him. It hurt, because he was never sure if Kai truly loved him, or if he just wanted him. And he would never know now that he had broken them apart. It wasn't too late to ask.

Getting to his feet, he fixed his coat and ran a hand through his hair. Jackson didn't want to admit that he was lingering. He let out a soft sigh, turning to leave, before Kai spoke up again.

"Was it worth it seeing me?"

Of course, one part of him thought. The part of him that wouldn't let go of Kai so easily. Maybe that part of him would never let him go. The part that would fall back on his knees and kiss the Parker's face. I want you. I love you. Please forgive me. Jackson's lips twitched as he tried to lock that part of him away. The less weak he was, the more he couldn't be exploited.

Instead, he shook his head. Jackson got no answers for the idea he held on to, only the pointed suggestion that he made it all up. Which wasn't true... although he wasn't as confident to dismiss the idea. He had to wait, until the phone rang again or until someone called him in for another round of questioning that made him doubt everything. 

Jackson entered the holding cell with his heart in his throat and left the room having swallowed it.