You're Up Awfully Late {Septiplier}

Just for the Phone Call

Jack throws his door open, slamming it closed behind him and clicking the lock. He snatches his phone from the nightstand, calling Signe through memorized clicks to the bright screen. Pressing the phone to his ear, he sits down on the bed, feeling tired and achey.

Ring

The first buzz sends ice cold fear through his core. He wants to hang up, text her to explaining he called by accident. But, he keeps the phone to his ear, waiting for her to pick up.

Ring

His inside feel like they are making balloon animals, twisting and wrapping into horribly uncomfortable shapes. He prays she doesn't answer. He doesn't even know what to say if she does.

Ring

"Hello?" the soft, feminine voice asks from the other end of the line.

Jack is quiet for a long second, at a loss for words. He recovers quickly, breathing out, "Hey."

"Jack? Is something wrong?" Signe asks, concerned.

"Oh, uhm, no!" Jack stammers. "I, uh, just wanted to hear your voice. Is this a bad time? I'm sorry. You can go if you need to."

"It's not a bad time," Signe assures. She must have been standing because there is a bit of a shuffling, as if she is sitting and getting comfortable. "How is the convention?"

"It hasn't really started yet," Jack says, trying to relax. "But a lot of people are already here. I'm really excited, but I'm nervous for my panel."

"You always get yourself all worked up," she almost chuckles, light and airy and carefree. It feels like she has plunged a knife into his heart and each word twists it. "You'll do great. You have always been so good at interacting with your fans. And, honestly, they love you so much you could do anything."

"I guess you're right," Jack chuckles, trying to match her mood. "I mean it isn't-"

A knock sounds from the door, causing Jack to pause, cranking his head to look at the solid wood: as if he could see through it.

"Is someone there?" Signe asks.

"Uhm, it's probably a mistake," Jack decides, attempting to refocus. "Probably the wrong room or something."

However, the knock comes again, stronger than before.

"You should probably go check," she encourages.

He sighs, afraid the last person he wants to see will be on the other side. Yet, he stands from the bed, approaching the door as a fresh set of knocks comes from the wood.

"Are you expecting company?" she asks, probably just to fill the space.

"It might be one of the guys," he decides, not a complete lie. "It's pretty early here. They might all be going out for breakfast."

Jack takes the handle, gently pulling the door open. Of course, Mark is in the hallway, looking at the Irishman will shame filled eyes. Jack motions him away with the wave of his hand, pointing to the phone, but Mark steps inside anyway, forcing the other back into the room.

"Who is it?" Signe asks when it is quiet for too long.

"Oh, its just Mark," Jack replies, trying to sound casual. It's successful, for the most part. Only the slightest edge is in his voice.

"Tell him I said hi," she smiles, chipper as ever. "Are you going to go to breakfast with him?"

"I don't have to," he assures, turning his back on the American to walk farther into the room. He has no reason to hide the call from the other, but he wants to keep it private. He fears, no matter how irrational, that Mark will shout a confession to her. And Jack would sooner slice off his left hand than let Mark slip the truth to his girlfriend.

"You should," Signe says. "You sound a little tense, babe. I think seeing your friends is just what you need to relax."

He sighs, "I mean I guess you're are right. Thanks for picking up."

"Always. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay."

As soon as Jack ends the call, he spins to look at Mark. Face deeply creased with a frown and electric blue eyes livid, he almost screams, demands to know why the American would come to his doorstep. But Mark speaks first.

"Amy's call had nothing to do with you or us," Mark says, watching the other carefully.

Jack releases a fiery exhale. "I don't care what Amy called about or about Amy or any of that. I care that you took it upon yourself to just barge in here when I was trying to talk to Signe. You know it's-"

"Talk to her about what?" the older interrupts. "About what happened? Did you really think you would be able to come clean?"

"We shouldn't be alone," Jack frowns, crossing his arms and avoiding the questions.

"You don't even want to talk about it?" Mark asks, stepping towards Jack as if to comfort him. Jack steps back, nearly bearing his teeth in the process.

"No, I don't," the green haired man seethes. "They're nothing more to talk about. I'll be friendly out there, when everyone is watching. But this isn't happening anymore. This whole being alone in each other's rooms."

"Jack, I think you are being a little bit-"

"No, I'm not," he nearly hisses. "Now go get ready. Wade and Bob will be expecting us at the airport, and I'm not letting either of us go out like this."

"With sex hair?" Mark asks, trying to be funny. But Jack doesn't want him to be funny. He doesn't want him to be talking, in all honesty.

"Just go."