feel. → jacksepticeye

f i v e

"You know," Jack tangled his fingers in my hair as I traced patterns over his bare chest, the moonlight reflecting off of his back and giving his features a sharp shadow effect. "I hardly know anything about you, yet I already feel as if you know everything about me."

My hands froze on his chest before I broke out into a small smile. "I guess that's the sort of effect on people."

He hummed in response and we lay there in silence for a while, appreciating the silence whilst an overwhelming, excitable scream ruptured my skull. I smiled through the sound in my head and moved out of bed, slipping my underwear back on and then throwing an oversized shirt over the top.

"Do you need to head back?" I questioned him, throwing a glance over my shoulder as I raked my fingers through my hair before tying it up into a messy ponytail.

"Well, I do have videos to record," he muttered half-heartedly. "But if you give me your number, I can text you when I'm finished."

"Cool," I responded, feeling anger flare up inside of me at the thought of him leaving so soon. He certainly seemed reluctant, but I'd need to have him pandering after me like a stray puppy or something to be sure that I had him wrapped around my little finger. I scribbled my number down on a slip of paper and stretched my arm out to him. "Here."

Jack's eyes skimmed the piece of paper before he changed and put it into his jeans. I saw him to the door, where he gave the hallway a quick glance before leaning forwards and pressing a firm kiss to my lips and then leaving. I sighed, putting on a sweet smile and then shutting the door behind me.

* * *

As promised, Jack texted me when he was finished and we ended up sending messages to each other all throughout the night, up until about 3am where his texts were cut off abruptly from what I presumed was sleep.

It was about 9am when I was woken by the ringing of my phone, and I didn't hesitate to throw the covers off of me and reach for the device, my mind racing at the thought of missing his calls, only to groan when I saw that it was my mother calling.

"What do you want?" I snapped, leaning over to switch on my lamp and rummage through my drawer for the medication within.

"Darling, we just called to tell you that we've decided to make a trip to your new home," she called out sweetly, her voice laced with her long-forgotten French accent.

I scoffed and went into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. "Why? I don't want you coming here."

"We've decided." Mother pressed. "We want to know if it's... safe for you, that's all. We care about you, dear. We'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Yeah, whatever, you old hag," I muttered, pulling the phone from my face and pressing the red button. I pulled out two pills from the small, translucent orange bottle and swallowed them in a mouthful of water with a grimace on my face. Damn, that stuff never gets any less bitter.

At the thought of my parents turning up, I made a half-assed effort of tidying up my apartment by moving empty dishes into the kitchen and fluffing up pillow. I changed into a collared shirt and a pair of linen shorts, then applying a bit of eyeliner and wine-red lipstick.

I opened the door the second I heard the knock, and I smiled at them sarcastically before turning away and walking through the room.

"Welcome to my humble abode, bitches," I sighed, throwing my arms up.

"I really wish you wouldn't," my mother said quietly, her appearance noticeably a lot wearier and dark.

"Oh, shut up. You're in my house now," I reminded them.