Fix Me

5: Jax

Jax has made a habit out of laying in Oliver's bed now, during the long, slow days when there's not much to do. Oliver leaves him little notes about the previous night's dreams in the mornings, unless he's having a bad day.

On his bad days, when Jax wakes up, Oliver is sitting up in bed, just enough space to his right for Jax to crawl in. So, Jax does, curling his body up next to Oliver's.

His only explanation for this is that it's what he wished someone had done for him.

Sometimes, in the mid-morning humdrum of Oliver's rough days, Jax will whisper his name, tell him stories. In the silence, it doesn't really seem like there's much trouble to get in for speaking. Oliver hugs him closer on those mornings, or maybe smiles, if his demons aren't being too frisky.

On one of those nicer days, Oliver has started humming softly, as usual. He asks Jax to sing, too, and Jax complies. His voice is scratchy from lack of use, deeper than he remembers it being. Oliver thinks it's wonderful.

So, they lay in bed, humming along to invisible guitar strums, until Max knocks on the door.

"Jack, honey, your father's here to see you."

Jax freezes, breaking off mid cadence. He can feel his Oliver-filled safe haven cracking at the edges, tries his best to keep it together. Standing, trying to look calm, he returns to his own bed, cold and stiff from being unused in a week.

Then, he nods at Max, telling her to let his father in. Oliver asks what's wrong when she leaves, and Jax just shrugs weakly, trying to smile.

A few minutes of silence pass, and then a large man fills the doorway. His forehead isn't wrinkled enough for someone with a son in the hospital, much like his suit. Jax feels his heart hammering at the steel bars of his ribcage, desperately tries to suppress it. He takes a deep breath, pulls it in deeper before letting it go. And yet, a tendril of fear still wraps itself around his spine.

The man greets his son, sighs when he doesn't respond. He sits on the edge of the bed, and the boy scoots away until his back slams against the wall behind him. He hugs his knees close to him, expression guarded.

Oliver pretends not to notice the way Jax flinches when his father reaches for him.

Jax keeps wary, quiet glances at his father to a minimum, largely staring someplace to the left of his face. After a bit, his father huffs, face painted red, and he starts to yell. He grabs Jax's wrist more roughly than he should, dragging him upward from the bed.

Oliver is alarmed to see Jax ragdoll in his father's grip. When his father readjusts his grip, pulling his son's body close enough to send spittle flying onto his cheeks, Oliver quietly presses the emergency call button.

Jax's father growls at his son, calling him worthless, stupid, a waste of space. Jax just stares off to the side, eyes shuttered like the windows of an empty house against a storm.

Max runs into the room, pales as Jax's father slaps the inpatient in his grasp. Oliver thinks he looks like an ogre.

Max screams something into the hallway that Oliver can't hear, and security hurries in. Oliver can only look at Jax, laying on the bed, looking completely detached from the situation.

Once his father has been properly removed, Oliver limps across the room to Jax's bed and pulls him into his arms.

It's the first time Oliver sees Jax cry.

A/N: I wrote! Yay... This chapter is kinda sad and too short aha I'm sorry. I tried.

Vote and comment if you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!