In which Jack O'Callahan tells his girlfriend, Y/n, the stories behind his many scars.
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Written In His Scars
Jack can't sleep. He's there in perfect conditions to relax and close his eyes, but he can't seem to. The room is dark, save for a few rays of moonlight shining through. He's tired - he always is. He's a comfortable temperature, the soft breeze occasionally blowing through the half open window helping that. Even so, he can't sleep. He can't seem to turn off his brain. No matter how many times he tells his toes to go to sleep, they won't listen. Or if they do, by the time he gets to his knees, his toes have woken up again, and he never makes it all the way up his body.
He lays on his back, head fallen to one side to stare out at the landscape of Lake Placid. It's quiet - it's never quiet in New York - but he still can't sleep. It's a cruel twist of fate. The one time he needs the hustle and bustle to advert his mind, the entirety of the state of New York has gone quiet. By the loudness of the silence, perchance it's all of the United States that suddenly seems to have been muted. A low groan of frustration rattles his chest and his head flops to the opposite side to stare at the darkness surrounding him.
His girl, Y/n, who is curled into his side, stirs. The sheets rustling as she turns from facing the window to facing him. Jack loosens his grip on her waist, watching as she snuggles closer to him in her sleep, her head lying on his chest. He can't help the smile that spreads across his face at the peaceful expression of the girl finding her refuge in him. There's too many things he loves about her to name them all. The world would run out of paper before he ran out of things to write. He exhales slowly, her head falling with his breath. He doesn't at all want to disturb her, so he breathes steadily back in, trying to make her as comfortable as possible with the rhythm of his chest's rise and fall.
Unlike him, she fell asleep right away. She was tired - he made sure of that - but her instantaneous sleep which he so carefully curated is not going to stop the conversation to follow. Though she never said a word, he saw the way her eyes widened at the scars that littered his body. Every girl reacted that way, former teammates would, but her eyes did not convey intrigue. Her eyes were filled with concern, he could practically see the questions rattling around in her pretty little head. He couldn't blame her for the way her hand reached quizzically toward him, fingers glazing across warm skin, sending a shudder through his body at her touch.
He supposes that's what's keeping him awake. The difference in her reaction to everyone else. She wanted to know how he got them, he could tell she was holding back questions. He's not sure why that caused a pang of nerves to shoot through him. Why suddenly, because she seems so interested, he's riddled with his own self-doubt.
Jack O'Callahan never was one to fall victim to anxiety, but here he is with it as his biggest foe. Y/n is such a sweet girl, that's partly why he was attracted to her - why all of them were attracted to her. But her empathetic heart leaves Jack to let many of his childhood stories go untold. Sure, he informed her that he grew up in Charlestown, but he never broke into his safe of accompanying stories. He knew they'd upset her and the last thing he wanted was for her to be upset.
