My American Idiot ~ Septiplier

16

Jack P.O.V

Jack was dying, he was sure of it.

His thoughts were disjointed, covered in a thick layer of smoke that contorted his memories and made his head spin. His stomach burned painfully like he'd swallowed acid that was slowly eating him from the inside out and the world was whirling in a sickening spiral of colors that made Jack dizzy.

Jack had just woken up on something soft but he didn't move, his entire body stiff and aching especially his head which throbbed like he'd just been hit on the head with a frying pan. He opened his eyes blearily, winching at the searing bright light that sent a shot of pain straight to his brain. Jesus Christ that hurt like a bitch.

Where was he? What the fuck happened?

The green haired boy let out a low groan of pain, his throat was raw and sore. Looking around he soon recognized his room, the plain white walls almost comforting for once. Looking outside the window he noticed how dark it was. Must be nighttime.

As he tried to move off his bed a stab of pain shot through his chest, startling him so much he let out a quiet cry of pain. "Holy fuck." He muttered, slightly breathless from the pain that burned along his chest.

"Sean McLoughlin are you awake?" Came a yell from somewhere in the distance that made Jack's headache burst into a whole new world of pain. He could hear footsteps thundering up the stairs towards him and soon the door to his room was shoved open to reveal his sister dressed in her normal green nightgown and looking down at him with barely bridled rage.

"Sure, I'm awake. What ha-" Jack had attempted to pull himself into a sitting position but ended up letting out a strangled scream of pain when he tried to twist his torso to the side. He heard his sister curse quietly before running over to his bed and carefully helping him back down onto the pillows, her hands gentle despite her obvious anger.

"You idiot, you shouldn't be moving when you've got a bruised rib." She muttered, concern showing through the gaps of her anger. "And you've got a cut above your eye so try your best not to open it, it was hard enough to stop the bleeding the first time." 

When he was finally lying down again Megan's lips pressed together in a thin line a look that Jack was all too familiar with.

"C'mon Megs. It's not so bad." The Irishman said softly, a smirk on his face. "We both know I'm no stranger to a bit of drink. Why are you so pissed about it all of a sudden?"

She snorted, shaking her head in disbelief. "Are you fucking kidding me, Jack? You think I'm pissed because you went out and got a few drinks?" Megan ran a hand through her dark brown hair, looking down at the floor as she thought of how to continue.

Jack cut her off before she could start whatever rant she was going to begin. "Well, if that's not it then what the fuck happened? I can't remember shit." And it was true. The last thing he could recall was talking to Ashley about something and then the rest was a black hole in his memories filled with nothing but empty space.

Megan let out a laugh but there was no humor behind it. "What happened, huh? Drugs happened, Jack. I got a call from the fucking police at nearly 1am telling me I need to come get my little brother from jail." Jack blinked at that, confusion on his face. What the fuck does she mean drugs? And how in the name of fuck did he end up in jail?

"Hey Megs, I've never taken drugs in my life. Drink, yes. Drugs, no. You're fussing over nothing." He said trying to sound nonchalant and reassuring despite the fear that made his stomach twist in knots. He wouldn't take drugs would he?

Well, then again, it really depends on how drunk he was at the time.

"Oh yeah, tough guy? Well then, explain to me why you were staggering in here covered in blood and your temperature through the roof with a massive grin on your stupid face as you talked shit about squirrels?!" She asked. Jack nearly snorted. Yeah right, as if he'd ever do something like that.