[ Flipside - A DSaF Fanfic ]

[ Chapter 15 | Two Men, One House ( not gay :[ ) ]

[ chill, funny chapter. harry and jack vibing, being friends ]

    Harry awoke, and sat up in the bed Jack had lent to him. He stretched his arms, and looked out the window. Was it always that bright in the morning? He attempted to rub his eyes, but them remembered he had none. Harry flinched, hearing a knock at the door. The door opened, and revealed Jack on the other side. He leaned on the door frame. 

    "Morning, sleeping beauty. Or, actually, it's 2:30PM. So, good afternoon, bitch." Jack chuckled. Harry noticed his eyes were slightly red, as if he had been crying. Plus, he swore he had heard crying last night-

     Jack continued, interrupting his thought. "Anyways, I made breakfast. I think reheated burritos count as a breakfast, right...?" 

     "Breakfast..." Harry mumbled, repeating what Jack had said. "Yes, that'd be...lovely..." He yawned, somehow, despite lacking a mouth.

    "Aight, it'll take like...5 minutes to warm up, so do whatever you do when you wake up, I guess."

    "Work. I usually do work." Harry responded. "So, in this case I'd prob-"

    "Yeah, no. You're not gonna do work. Dumbass." Jack walked closer to him, and bonked him lightly on the head with his hand.  Harry recoiled back, groaning. A sharp pain was in his head.

    Jack flinched "Oh yeah, head injury- I forgot- yeah, I tried to put some band-aids on your head. No idea if it worked."  He shrugged, and began to head for the door. "Just, rest, okay? Don't worry about my work."

    "...fine, sir. Hey um-"  

     Harry was about to ask about him crying last night when SLAM. The door was shut. Harry flinched at the loud sound. Jack didn't see to mean to have meant to slam the door, he hadn't seemed angry before, at least. Harry just sat in bed. He itched to do something, to be useful, but Jack had just told him to not, so...what now? He looked around the room. It seemed lived in and cozy, photos on the wall, plants on the dresser, pillows and blankets on the floor. But, Harry noticed something else, the putrid scent of death. He wasn't sure how he smelt it, as he had no noes, but it was noticeable. The smell was light, as if whatever had died had died a long time ago. Harry turned the nightstand, noticing a photo in a picture frame. Harry grabbed it, pulling it towards him. Two people stood in the photo, one an older woman, and the other...

   Harry stared, bewildered. A man, with...a phone head. Red. Probably a first generation model. Another phone-guy had lived here? He stood, wandering to the door. His brain wasn't running properly.

    His mind jumped to conclusions. Had Jack killed him?! Was that why there was the smell of death in there?! Was Jack going to kill him?!?

    To calm himself down he slowed his breathing. He was overthinking...probably. F̶u̶c̶k̶ Heck, his hands were shaking as he held the picture.

    Be rational, Harry.

     He continued to carry the picture as he walked, transfixed on it. As he walked, he felt him slamming into something. He stumbled back, looking up from the photo. Jack laid on the floor, sprawled in front of him, dazed. 

    "Oh, heck, Jack-" Harry winced, immediately reaching out his hand to him. Jack brushed his hand aside, getting to his feet. He grunted as he got up, and wiped some dust from his shoulders.

   "Sorry, sir." He mumbled out to Jack, looking away from his face. Jack only chuckled in response.

    "It's fine, dude." Jack shrugged. "Anyways, I finished the horrid creation I dare use the title 'Breakfast' on. It's downstairs, if you're hungry."