The first time it happens you thought Jake had gone mad.

You'd finally managed to get him of that island in the middle of nowhere and to civilisation, or as close to civilisation as Texas is. You remember him getting of the hired plane, several large bags lugged over his shoulder and he is so different from what you'd imagined, yet at the same time so alike. He is taller than you, and broader; his chest and shoulders are wide and he is ripped with muscle. In real life he seems brighter- his skin just that bit more tanned, his eyes greener and his smile wider. He is like an overgrown puppy, forever bounding around and shouting in his strange voice, and similar to a large dog who can't stop his wagging tail knocking picture frames of a low tables Jake makes messes with his enthusiasm, managing to hit a flight attendant in the face when his hands go flying out to give you the mother of all hugs within the first two minutes of his arrival.

At first he doesn't settle in and gets spooked by the strangest things, like when that beggar had grabbed onto his sleeve and asked for money or when cars honk randomly in traffic jams- everything he's learned about cities is from movies and he tries desperately to apply those scenes to his new life. He's also unbelievably polite and expects people to have the same manners around him; he steps aside to let people off the train before him, meaning he stands stupidly by the door for several minutes and just manages to squeeze out before the door closes. He also insists on assisting random women in the city, offering to take someone's bag or giving up his space for them. They think he is just being creepy and you get embarrassed for him when they accuse him of being a pervert, and then you just want to punch them.

The incident happened about two weeks after he'd come to live with you- you'd been strifing in the sitting room when a high pitched whistle had come from next door. He'd stilled for a second as you flew at him with your katanas in hand and you'd had to quickly avert your course as to not skewer him on the end of the blade. Startled you dropped them and moved to him, calling his name quizzically- suddenly he snapped out of it and turned on you, tackling you, his shoulder in your stomach. Instantly the air was forced from you and your feet were swept from the ground. You'd managed to regain your footing a second before he'd come back at you- his eyes were dancing like fire under determined brows, his hands flying fast. Whatever you'd yelled at him seemed to go unheard and when he'd crashed headfirst into the wall where you'd been seconds before you got seriously worried about him- it was as if he was in a trance and nothing you did made any difference. That time you'd ended it by literally jumping out of the open window, grabbing onto the sill and hauling yourself into your neighbour's flat through their bedroom window, startling the couple in bed. When you'd returned to your own apartment a while later you found Jake waiting for you apologetically, his nose bleeding from the earlier fight and you bandaged him up, before putting salve on the rapidly blooming bruise along the bottom of your ribcage.

Bit by bit you learned that those incidents were triggered by certain things- one of them being a boiled kettle's scream, or the howl of a stray dog and could come at any time, whether you were watching one of his many favourite movies or eating breakfast. When they happened Jake would freeze for a moment and suddenly attack you, feral and raw. At first you found it easier to just escape from the flat and wait until he'd calmed down. Yet after one instance when he'd managed to trap you in the corner of the windowless bathroom you learnt you could just give in and he'd calm. You'd been fighting back like a cornered animal when he'd pinned you to the side of the bath and swiped your feet from under you. Your head had hit the side of the tub when you'd fallen and for a moment you'd lain still beneath him, limp and dazed. By the time you'd come to Jake had seemed to calm down, though not completely and you'd kept your body pliable and soft as he leant in from above you. He'd snuffle around you and in a moment of inspiration you'd bared you neck to him in a show of submission and he snapped out of it, his eyes focusing and his lips uttering a gasp of surprise.

You did your research then, and found certain tricks in showing your submission, one being to go very still or to bare your neck or stomach. Another was to just submit to him if he tried to force you to stay in a certain position rather than fight back- once into that trance there was no way you could beat him, though you could come close. Jake, understandably, was incredibly ashamed and awkward about it, constantly apologising and always avoiding you for days after he'd attacked you, ridden with guilt when he saw a particularly nasty looking bruise or bite, though you'd insist it wasn't his fault and never held it against him. How could you?

This time though, is different.