Trust Your Instincts

-8- First Impressions

Mark strolled through the small town to the address that Jack had scribbled down the day before. He didn't care what Jack might think of his earliness, maybe he'd appreciate it. See it as an opportunity to get the project over and done with and out of the way quickly.

 He reached the building which Jack's handwriting had directed him to, standing adjacent to a park which Mark had never seen before. He scanned his surroundings. Taking in every aspect of the scenery, the yellowing leaves on the trees turning the park into a beautiful sea of gold and brown, the first of them had fallen, and were now spread thinly across the grass. He was, however, curious, if not surprised to see that the building standing before him was not a house, but a block of apartments. The brickwork reaching up to five floors.

 The cold morning air finally forced Mark into the building, despite his growing worries that Jack would be displeased by his decision to show up at 9:30am on a Saturday. He discard the thought and began to look for door number 8, as it was the number Jack had wrote down on the sheet of paper. He found himself going up three floors from the ground floor, where apartment 1 and 2 were, standing across the hall from each other, in order to come in front of Jack's door, directly opposite door number 7, the only other flat on that level.

 Mark hesitated for what felt like a whole hour before picking up the courage to knock on Jack's door, gently at first. When no answer came, he knocked a little louder. Still no answer, and so he decided to knock a third time. Maybe he's gone out to get breakfast, but, where are his family? Did they all go out together? Mark's mind began to wander. He was about to turn around, about to walk back down the flights of stairs and into the open air, when the door cracked open to reveal a very disgruntled Jack. He had obviously just woken up.

 Jack opened the door with a grimace, ready to tell whoever was trying to sell him something to politely fuck off, he didn't even care if it was a girl scout trying to sell the most cookies, even then he was well trained in sending them away with neither a sale nor a smile, well...maybe a sale. 

 He was slightly taken aback when the figure he saw on the other side of the door was not, in fact, a girl scout. For Jack, it was much worse. Mark stood on the other side of the door, a slight nervous smile cracked on his lips, showing his perfect white teeth. He was wearing yet another flannel, one that Jack had not yet seen, which he found bewildering to say the least, considering the fact that he could have sworn he'd already seen at least 20 different ones, and school only started 5 days ago! He had his book bag draped carelessly over one shoulder, and both hands were occupied, one by a bottle of Diet Coke, and the other by a tube of Pringles, the red kind. Not my favourite, but its a safe bet, I guess. Jack thought to himself.

 His smile had slightly faded by the time his eyes came into contact with Jack's, so cold and lifeless, especially at this time of the morning, on a weekend! The beautiful blue shade had dwindled to a sad shade of grey, like an overcast morning at the beach.  They stood for a few moments, staring at each other, almost analysing each other, Jack completely disheveled, Mark looking wide awake and ready to take on the day. Jack finally found it within him to invite Mark in, deciding against shouting at Mark for showing up so early in the hallways, he'd leave that conversation for when he was more awake, and the door to the hallway was shut. This wasn't what he was intending when he said that whenever Mark wanted was fine with him.

 Jack's apartment was spacious. That was the only word Mark could think of to describe it, spacious.... and incredibly modern, it wasn't huge, not even big, but there was very little furniture to occupy the little space he had. There was a living area, with a kitchen at the back, no walls separating the two rooms. All that was in this room was a TV,  small thin wooden table with two chairs (Mark had guessed it to be the dining table), an old beige fabric couch and two old armchairs. To the right were a bathroom and a bedroom, and to the left, just windows, almost a full wall made of glass, allowing the morning light to stream over the balcony and into the small apartment. There was at least five minutes of silence before Mark spoke. 

 "Where are your family?" he asked, and eyed Jack suspiciously, raising an eyebrow as he did so. He was desperately grasping at some form of communication to break the tension with.

 "I live alone," Jack said hollowly, "family problems... personal reasons." His voice sounded sad, and Mark could tell that, although he was looking down, the look in his eyes was one of despair. He could almost see the flash of pain shooting across them.

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A/N  yoooo everyone.

so I don't really know what the hell I'm doing with this story, but it's going so thats the main thing! :D now all I gotta do is think up an acceptable backstory for why Jack is alone,,, it'll be fine! I'll try my best to make it good for you guys.

anyway! until next time ;)