Letterman Jacket

40 / two days before

"What the hell are you doing?" JJ yelled in surprise as he sat up and tugged his shirt sleeve down. His eyes were panicked; his breaths came out in quick gasps. "What's going on?"

I'd stepped back and flinched from the loudness of his voice, but Nico wasn't fazed. He smiled and shook his head as he stood. "He's clean."

Faust's shoulders sagged as he breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thank God."

"Clean?" JJ repeated, narrowing his eyes at the four of us standing in his room. "What the hell is happening?"

Theo, meanwhile, wasn't convinced. "I want to see him shirtless."

"What?" JJ scoffed. "Are you for real—"

My brother rolled his eyes. "C'mon. Do it."

"No," the curly-haired boy snapped, clenching his jaw. "Tell me what the fuck is happening or get out of my room."

"It's our room, too—"

Nico hit his shoulder. "Shut up, Theo, now's not the time—"

Faust rubbed his hand against his forehead, but his mouth was still stretched wide. "Just do it, dude. We'll explain after. Please?"

JJ's hands balled into fists by his sides. His glare was menacing, but none of the boys looked intimidated. My pulse raced as I watched him throw the covers off of himself whilst muttering a curse under his breath.

Swinging his legs over the side of the mattress to stand, he hooked his fingers over the hem and pulled the shirt over his head with an exasperated sigh. "Before you ask any questions, let me gun this down. It's type 1."

Silence. It echoed around the room when JJ's shirt was thrown on the floor. He rubbed the nape of his neck, and my eyes wandered to the muscles of his torso and the strange device attached to it.

"Alright," Faust said, losing the grin as he motioned to JJ's body with his hand. "I'll bite. Type 1 what, exactly?"

"Diabetes," Nico answered quietly before JJ could even open his mouth. "That's an insulin pump, right?"

JJ's nails dug into his palms. "Yes."

Faust furrowed his eyebrows. "This is why you've been covering your body up?"

"No, I've been covering my body up to avoid this," he hissed, pulling his shirt back on to cover the medical device attached to the waistband of his boxers and connected to his lower abdomen. "The look of pity on your faces."

"Who said anything about pity?" Theo countered, raising his hands. "We're confused, JJ, there's a difference."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Nico said, voice low as he locked eyes with the curly-haired boy, who was currently on the verge of looking like he wanted to kick all of us out—and I didn't blame him. "How long have you known? When did this happen?"

"Because, Nico," JJ started, tone rising, "would you run headfirst into a basketball player whose body doesn't work right? Would you have treated an athlete the same, or would you have even allowed me in the team had you known? Captains?"

Faust gritted his teeth. "I'm not talking to you as a captain, JJ. I'm talking to you as my friend."

"Yeah, well." JJ shook his head and laughed once without humor. "You're standing here as both."

"Is it serious?" Nico asked, unable to keep from firing questions in concern.

JJ scoffed again. "About as serious as shit can get when I had a seizure. My blood sugar ran too low. I fell and hit my head—they had to do stitches. Are we done here?"