damaged kisses; septiplier

day 9

five more days.

five more days till he gets to see jack and hopefully, oh god, save him.

earlier he had booked a flight to Ireland at the latest time, which is on the 17th. he had enough time to plan what to do, where to go, and hopefully send the bastard, who hurt jack, to jail. he twists his shirt into a ball, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. his mind ran, playing numerous scenarios of that day where he would land in Ireland.

1) jack would run into his arms (not exactly, but possibly) and they would run to the nearest police station.

2) kier and him would have a fight that may lead to bloody noses and broken bones.

3) he was too late and jack was too scared to leave, too broken to the point where his fear was the one running his whole body.

or 4) he was literally too late and he'll have to bury his friend, with no mercy towards the man who painted him in black and blue.

he shivered as he thought of scenario number four.

he swore he'll help jack, wether he receives broken bones or not, he'll do anything to keep him safe.

_________

he limped upstairs, one hand cradling his ribs while the other helped him support himself on the wall. he idly traced doodles on the white surface, some were smiles and some were frowns. some were the sun. and some were a black hole that sucked him in and killed him.

he lay his hand flat against the wall, shaking hand running along a dent, which he had promised long ago to cover up.

"you piece of shit!" another punch.

another kick.

another insult.

another cut.

another broken night.

"im sorry, I'm sorry!" jack was sobbing, hands up to defend his face, "ill cook it properly next time!"

"you can't do anything right!" kier was screaming, he seethed of anger and whiskey, "i bet you can't even kill yourself without fucking up!"

jack curled up against the wall, tried to at least, and tried to protect the places that he won't be able to cover up with makeup and fake smiles. he tried to push himself up and run, but kier's hands curled into the collar of his shirt and pulled him up. they stayed there, breathing heavily, awkwardly balancing themselves on the stairs, the smell of blood rising to their noses and staining their 'special' night.

kier leaned in, his breathe tickling Jack's ear.

"i hate you."

obviously, jack had thought.

in came a bloody fist and burrowed itself against the wall, right beside Jack's head. kier narrowed his eyes and hissed, "clean that up."

and then he left, leaving jack silently crying and holding a broken wrist.

he was stupid back then, but even more stupider now. when kier first hit him, kier begged him to stay and that he was extremely sorry, and that he would prove it right there and then.