You Can't Hurt Me

Wise man say, only fools rashay

"I'm hungry."

"Hi hungry I'm Jack."

Race didn't dignify that with a response, however he did just loose 3% of his will to live, so there was that.

Jack sighed, and served him a waffle, Race taking it quietly, his normal idle chatter gone to the space in his head.

They didn't really talk while eating, any conversation consisted of a lame icebreaker from Jack and a uninterested nod from Race. Jack however was gonna have to buy more maple syrup. Race piled at least a 3rd of the bottle in, and gladly mixed it all in making his waffles mushy. Jack gagged a little and opted to use maple butter instead.

Jack didn't even have to open his mouth, Race put his dishes in the sink, rinsed, put them in the dishwasher, and walked outside.

Jack finished off his last waffle and followed him out.

"Alright, I know it's been awkward but-" Jack stopped, the smell. He knew that smell, it clogged his nose every day at his stupid art school whenever he went outback, and there Race was smoking a cigar like nothing.

"What are you doing?"

"Hmm?" Race asked confused, taking it out. Jack felt his heart pitter horrified when a large plume of smoke exited Race's mouth.

"You can't do that."

"Why not?" Race asked confused, a light but wary smile worn.

Jack spluttered, "because it's bad for you!"

"How so?"

"Causes cancer and crap."

"Name something that doesn't cause cancer."

"Don't you get smart with me."

Race's jaw set and he put out his cigar, "you're not my dad."

"I sure as hell not, but I'm in charge of you."

"If I wanna smoke my damn cigars, im gonna smoke my cigars." Race itched his arms, they felt sticky again, and he really wanted to take another drag of the smoke.

Jack put his hand through his hair, "are we going to argue like this every day?"

"I don't know, are we?"

"Listen here you little-" Jack stopped himself and let out a deep, hearty, exhale. "Listen, if you're gonna live with me, we're gonna set up some rules."

Race paled immediately and took a step back, tossing his cigar without second thought, his hands scratching up his arms again. They were just so damn itchy.

"You okay?" Jack asked concerned, his anger dissipating.

"Rules? No cigar is a rule?" Race looked so nervous in that moment, as if he were a sketchy piece in a Jenga tower, and someone was ripping him out fast.

"Uh- yes." Jack spluttered a big, he wasn't perfect alright.

Then the worst thing of all happened, Race's voice got unbelievably small, and his hands stopped the nervous fidgeting that always followed him, his eyes dulled, and he looked for the first time, truly resigned.

"I'm sorry."

"Um, it's alright." Jack answered slowly. Maybe raising kids wasn't that hard after all, however something in Race's voice put Jack on edge.

Race didn't respond after that, just staring at Jack with wide, waiting eyes. Waiting for what, Jack wasn't sure.

Eventually it was Race who responded, "well?"