Chapter Text
As the seasons change and students move from grade to grade, the heart aches for the simple familiarity of the past. While some of the students attending Monster High reminisce with said mindset, change is inevitable. For one monster, he could not wish for anything more different from the mindset.
Jackson Jekyll is a brother, a cousin, a son, a protégé, a nerd, half monster, and half normie. His body is not completely his own, he is forced to share it reluctantly, with his brother Holt Hyde who could not be any more different from Jackson. Despite this, he makes sure the time he does get with the body is used without a minute to spare. He fills it with the hardest classes at school, wacky shenanigans like science experiments, and nerdy activities like DND and video games. His life is fine and the people around him are too.
“Jackson Jekyll! Are you going to daydream all day or are you going to answer this problem?” Professor Rotter yells with a distaste, which is as potent as the smell of his breath.
“Oh sorry sir,” Jackson half mumbles, shaken from his thoughts.
“Good because I’m more than happy to assign detention,” Rotter calls as Jackson starts to push off from the desk.
“Nice one normie,” Toralei calls as Jackson mopengly sighs.
At least, that’s the bare minimum of what Jackson wished his life was only like. He was half normie and half monster, something that wasn’t smiled on by monster or humankind. By Monster High standards it also meant he was “only” normie as he looked completely human. Jackson’s life is a real mess, he got kicked out of multiple normie and monster schools because he didn’t know about sharing his body with Holt until Monster High. A secret his mother worryingly kept away from Holt and Jackson much to their dismay. Monster High is the last school the boys can actively still attend, if they managed to get kicked out of there, it would either mean moving or getting homeschooled. Which in all truth, would be more enjoyable for Jackson. On top of all of that and the bullying, Jackson barely had friends. Actually, Jackson had no friends, or acquaintances sure, but he hung out with his bullies more than any of them.
Jackson is a lot of things that Holt isn’t. Holt has it all, popularity, friends, coolness, and okay grades. Although he is a bit of a troublemaker at times, Holt practically has it all.
On top of being responsible for a body, it’s a bit hysterical that the real reason why Jackson has a layer of hate specifically for Holt was the attention he received. Jackson indeed is loved by their Mom and is praised for his work, but it doesn’t make up for everything he wishes he wasn’t. Jackson is an outcast
Just as Jackson finishes up writing the previously asked question onto the chalk board the loud ring of the bell is heard alongside the sighs of relief from the other students.
“Homework is pages 314-315 in your cawcleaus textbooks,” Professor Rotter calls out to the students already walking out of the classroom.
The wave of endless chatter is overwhelming for the second period.
‘Seriously who has the energy for this kind of excitement so early,’ Jackson thinks, ‘I just have to make it through the halls with the least amount of attention and avoid Manny, easy as 100 digits of pi’
“Hey normie, where’s my math homework?’ Manny Tar yells from across the hallway.
‘Oh boy, here we go again,’ Jackson mentally groans before replying, “Manny you know I don’t cheat, and neither should you.”
“Well for someone still willing to talk back to me, you must know what’s coming then,” Manny roars before picking up Jackson by the cuff of his sweater and shoving him in a locker.
Although he’s had nice people like Frankie stand up for him, they don’t understand what it's like to be bullied. They don’t see it from his perspective, and they honestly tend to make the situation worse. After Frankie tells Manny off, he only complies for a while out of respect for his reputation in front of one of the popular ghouls. After that he was even more determined to make Jacksons life a living hell, taunting him for having to get a girl to stand up for him and making their meetings more frequent.
Jackson had tried taking different routes to his classes, and yet he still managed to find him every time, it must have been his big nose. Manny’s smell was probably one of his only other skills besides being monstrously strong with such a pea brain. The only other ways Jackson could think of to avoid Minotaur wrath was by either telling a teacher or getting another student to be his bodyguard, and that would just make the comments worse. Not to mention the other students' unsubtle whispers about the normie kid also being another cruel factor.
Jackson honestly didn’t entirely mind the whispers or comments, it might have been bad attention but it was attention. It wasn’t much different from his status in the other schools of being the weird, unpopular, and easily bullied type. Honestly, Jackson was fine. If Jackson is asked by his Mom about his day he always says it was fine. If anyone were to ask about how Jackson feels, he would say he is fine. Jackson is fine, honestly, he is.
As Manny grumbles about having to do his own homework and making a few more insults to Jackson, he walks away, and everything is fine as always.
Jackson pushes the locker open before pulling out the headphones inside Jackson and Holts's shared bag. Music class is next, so it’s Holts's turn with the body. Jackson hesitantly puts on the headset as fire emerges from his skin irritably turning the body’s skin from a light tan to bright shocking blue.
Once the change finishes, Holt on command is about to yell out a signature Holt “Yeah” but is stopped short, by a creeping feeling. Sharing a body meant on occasion the boys upon transforming, feel a glimpse of the last few moments of the other brother. Sometimes it was a thought, sometimes it was a memory. Rarely was it a feeling. When it was a feeling it was always relatively tame Those feelings had never stabbed so deep. This surprising wound was deep and painful, something that would take a long time to heal.
The feeling is utterly confusing to describe, one could describe it as, as deep as the sea, one with melancholy waters, bitter gloom making up the rocks, and fish that mocked and whispered louder than lighting. Or similar to the drowning of built-up stress, the one that creeps and pulls on your head, choking you until it’s impossible to breathe or talk. Or the rapid fire of rage that radiates off of someone who is dealing with the embodiment of what a person hates. Or like the numbness that makes you sigh, knowing that your control is that of a puppet, and your life is more in the hands of others than your own.
As the stragglers rush to their respective classes before the bell. Holt feels sick, the urge to throw up his breakfast is high, but he pushes it down. Instead, Holt sheds a single, overwhelming tear.