A Foreign Love Song (Jake Bateman x Johnnie Guilbert)

1: Johnnie

A/n: Will be depictions of self-harm, so trigger warning now not later, read my other stuff cuz this story'll be shit, and uhhhh.... Vote, comment, etc.

I sat on a chair in my bedroom. Next to me was a table, and on that table sat my phone, which was face-up. I drummed my fingers on the edge of the table, awaiting some news or someone to tell me something. Any signs that I wasn't alone. Anything. Anyone. I looked up at the ceiling as I sighed. Being alone is hard. That's why I surround myself with dogs. Except dogs aren't really the same as human company because they can't offer you reassurance when you tell them all the thoughts you have that terrify you so much. 

Maybe I'd be happier if I had a lover. Alex is gone now, so that won't work. While I'm still healing from that, I have started to develop feelings for one of my other friends. That other friend being Jake. Cringing at the thought of it, I looked to my phone once more, hoping for a missed notification. When I saw that there was zilch, I abandoned my room to get a glass of water. 

I was about halfway through pouring the glass when my phone began to ring. I dropped the glass immediately, shattering it as I ran to pick up the phone. I didn't even take a chance to see who exactly was calling me. "Hello?!" I asked, overexcited as ever. 

"Why are you shouting?" The person on the other end asked. "Who is this?"

"If you called me, then shouldn't you know?"

"I thought I did. You sound different than the person I was calling."

I drummed my fingers on the table where my phone had been previously sitting. "This is Johnnie," I answered.

"Johnnie? Johnnie who?"

"Johnnie Guilbert."

"Oh....Sorry, wrong number," They said, and then they hung up. It figures, I broke a glass for this call, and now it ends up not even really being worth it. I guess it doesn't really matter, I could've just let it go to voicemail, or waited a few rings. I put my phone back down, and went to go find a broom to clean up the glass. 

I opened the closet near the kitchen where a broom a dustpan sat. I picked both up and wondered over to the shards of glass. Some of the larger ones I picked up and threw out with my hands. Unfortunately, I cut myself during this process. So I used my bloodied hands to clean up the rest of the damage. This only seemed to make more of a mess. There was no longer glass on the floor, but now there was blood to clean up. I guess this is just the sort of day I'm having. 

After wandering off to the bathroom to find a bandage to cover my cut palm with, I found a mop to clean up the kitchen floor. That was disastrous. Instead of soaking up the blood, the mop was already soaked through with water. Now I just had a wet, bloody mess on my kitchen floor. I sat against one of the bottom cabinets, and put my head in my hands. Why can't anything just go the way that it should? 

I felt something brush against my leg. I looked up. "Oh, Creature. You shouldn't be in here," I scolded my dog. I lifted him up and led him out of the kitchen. Who knows if there's still glass on the floor? The last thing I want is for him to cut his paws. 

At about mid-afternoon, I was wasting my life away with video games. My phone rang and I damn near dropped the controller. "Hello?" I asked. If this was another wrong number, I'm going to shoot myself. 

"Please tell me you're having a really bad day," The other person said. This was a voice I recognized. 

"Why do you want me to have a bad day, Jake?" I pinched the bridge of my nose. 

"Because I may or may not have done something really crazy and weird. Go to your door."

"My door?" I raised an eyebrow in confusion, despite the fact that he couldn't see this. 

"Yes."

"My front door?"

"That would be the one." I walked up to the front door. "Now hang up because the feedback will be really bad, okay?"

"What?" He hung up. "What do you mean feedback?" I asked. 

"I mean I'm here! At your door! Now open it!" Shouted a muffled voice from the other side of my front door. My God, he'd come to see me? Without warning? I opened the door and there he stood with container in his hand. "I made you cookies," He said awkwardly. 

"W-why? What are you doing here?"

He pointed to the road. "I wasn't going to, but my car broke down pretty close to here. I decided to walk the rest of the way."

"But why did you make cookies?"

"They weren't originally for you. They were originally for my mother. It's her birthday. Since I'm obviously not going to that now, I decided it would be best they didn't go to waste." We stood there in silence for a moment. He looked down and say the bandage over my hand. "What happened to your hand?"

I lifted it up and looked at the white bandage. "Oh, well...I broke a glass earlier and kind of cut myself cleaning it up."

"Great. That makes today a bad day. For which I've brought you cookies." He held out the container. "Please let me in."

I looked down and chuckled. "Alright. You can come in."