My American Idiot ~ Septiplier

25

A/N

Just real quick before this chapter starts, I know that some people like to play the music I put up at the top as they read so this is just a note to say, that's not the original song, trust me the original is much better.

That is me singing a cover of XO by EDEN and even though I know it's not particularly good I decided to put it up on my YT anyway to see what people think. I'm probably gonna delete it later and replace it with a better song but I just wanted to explain cause I know some ppl don't like covers xD

Anyway enjoy the chapter and sorry for the wait :)

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Jack's P.O.V

It was raining.

Now, when I say raining, please don't imagine that lovely, soft, almost hypnotising pitter-patter of a passing shower. No. What I'm talking about are droplets of water the size of large walnuts thundering down to earth at breakneck speeds and colliding with the slates on the roof so hard that Jack wondered if they would smash under the pressure.

The never ending sound of the weather assaulting his bedroom window had been the thing to wake Jack from his surprisingly dreamless sleep; his phone still held loosely in his right hand, bringing back echoes of the night before; Mark staying up with him and using his deep voice to lull the green haired boy to sleep. It meant so much to him.

Jack remembered just how relaxed he'd felt while Mark told him stupid stories down the phone, how safe. It was a good feeling. A small light at the end of this fucked up mess of a tunnel. All of a sudden he felt a strange tug in his gut; a yearning for Mark to be with him right now, even though deep down he knew that was a disgustingly selfish thought.

He didn't own Mark. Mark had a life of his own, family and friends that needed him. It wasn't Jack's place to expect his friend to respond to his every beck and call like some kind of pet; just something for him to call upon when he was upset and needing a distraction from the world. Just the thought alone made his stomach churn uncomfortably. He would never do that, would he? That wasn't what he was doing...was it?

Jack groaned quietly as pain shot through his mind, a horribly dull throbbing pain that reminded him of all those times he'd picked up a bottle to lessen the stress that came with responsibility. He should be used to headaches by now, but he wasn't.

Then again, he should be used to the thought of burying his mother 6 feet under, but he wasn't used to that either.

The sound of the high pitched howling wind drifting through the window accompanied by the rain that continued to pelt the glass, encouraged Jack to finally open his eyes. Drowsily blinking the grit out of his eyes, he was greeted with the familiar view of the overcast gloom of his bedroom.

There was a disgusting taste in his mouth; sour with a hint of something strangely metallic and tinny. He couldn't remember what the fuck he ate, or what he drank last night, but right now he was sincerely regretting it; his stomach twisting and churning violently as he attempted to roll over in the sheets.

Holy fuck what was that smell?

Why did his room smell like the inside of a shady rundown club all of a sudden? Jack winced as the smell of stale sweat and alcohol shot up his nose, making his eyes water at the unexpectedly sharp aroma. Good god was that coming from him?

Also why the fuck was it so hot in here? He could feel himself start to sweat in the uncomfortably clammy atmosphere of his bedroom.

Desperately Jack kicked out at the sheets, heart thumping wildly as his breathing became loud and laboured. His legs were tangled, he couldn't get out. It was so hot, he couldn't breathe. Why couldn't he breathe?