He Talks Too Much ~ Septiplier

12

It was entirely possible to look just as shit as you felt, Jack discovered, as he looked into the mirror the next day, taking in his sickly pale, slightly oily skin and the purple circles under his eyes. He'd barely slept last night and he felt clammy and generally gross all over.

How ironic that the one day he really needed the soothing distraction of his work was the first day in a very long time that he actually got sick.

Jack broke eye contact with his reflection to cough hoarsely several times into his fist, his throat dry as sandpaper, before bending down to splash some water on his face, wondering idly whether or not Aiden had gone to work yet.

A glance outside of the bathroom revealed said man was leaning casually against the kitchen counter eating slowly from a bowl of cereal; the spoon scraping against the pottery the only sound as Jack shuffled his way into the room, his entire body aching.

Aiden glanced up at him and immediately raised an eyebrow. "The fuck happened to you?" He asked, his voice muffled by the food in his mouth, eyebrows brought together with something dangerously close to concern. "You look like you've been through hell."

Jack didn't answer, instead reaching into the fridge and pouring himself a glass of orange juice, knowing full well coffee would only make him feel worse. After a few soothing sips he decided food wasn't an option and turned to leave, drink in hand, before Aiden's voice stopped him.

"Hey, you never said. What did that cop want with you last night?" He asked curiously, setting his spoon down with a clink and rubbing his hands together with interest. "You part of a drug gang or what?"

"Don't be an idiot." Jack found himself answering without thinking about it before shrugging half-heartedly. "Some girl I met went missing, that's all." He took another step towards his bedroom before Aiden spoke again, forcing him to turn.

"Were you two close or something?" There was a pause as Aiden squinted at his cousin, taking in his feeble appearance. "Is that what's got you looking so..." He trailed off, pulling a face. Luckily for Jack, Aiden was apparently smart enough not to add insult to injury by finishing off that particular sentence.       

Jack shook his head, unwilling to reveal that a main contributor to his shitty mood was how he'd been hit depressingly hard by the news that a guy he knew he stood no real chance with in the first place was now even further out of his league than ever.

And hell, having an emotionally shit day over a physically shit day was just the kind of crap he didn't need to deal with in what was turning out to be an extraordinarily stressful week anyway. Honestly, fuck his life. "No, just, forget about it, alright?" He snapped, a shade harsher than he intended, turning to escape the conversation altogether.

"Oh yeah, I found your phone by the way." Aiden called cheerfully after him, apparently unaffected by his cousin's sharp tone. Sure enough when Jack turned it was to see his phone in Aiden's lose grip and a smug smirk on the douchebag's face.

"I swear your boyfriend hasn't stopped calling all day. He's a bit clingy if you ask me." Aiden commented as he tossed the phone to his cousin, snorting in amusement as Jack almost dropped it. "By the way, I hope your friend turns up alive." He added, sounding sort of genuine despite his arrogant demeanour.

Jack didn't answer, shooting his cousin a dark glare and pocketing his phone before taking the final few stiff steps towards his bedroom and slamming the door behind him like the huffy, angry teenager he should have grown out of years ago.

***

Ten minutes later Jack was in the shower, his phone lying on his bed packed full of about 10 missed calls and 4 unopened messages from Mark that Jack didn't have the heart to answer.