Just One Bite

Chapter 12: Jack's POV

"James?" I call out uncertainly, my voice bouncing off the cold tile walls.

What the hell is he doing in here anyway?

"James!" I shout again, the gush of shower water drowning out my voice. I squint against the thick mass of steam that had risen as far as the upper lockers. "James, are you in here?"

The football team were competing in a match today so the changing rooms were dead, blocks of lockers and coats draped on hangers emerging from the steam in dark looming silhouettes. I let out a muttered curse word when I stumble over a pair of trainers, then hesitate once I realise that I recognise them. When I spot the leather jacket sprawled on the floor nearby, I start glancing about me wearily.

The steam was so thick now I could hardly see further than two metres in front of me.

"James!?"

"What do you want!?"

I freeze, my eyes locking in on a tall dark figure standing under a fast jet of hot water. "James?" My eyes hurt from squinting against the steam, sunlight streaming in from the tiny windows. "What the hell are you doing? A guy told me they saw you come in here and-"

"I needed to get away."

I pause. "From Steven?"

"...I suppose."

"The guy's a dick," I state like it should've been obvious, "I thought you knew that." I lean against the lockers and fold my arms. "Since when did you care what Steven says?" I ask, "I thought you had a thicker skin than that." 

"I do," he replies, his forehead pressed against the tiles. He still had his back turned towards me, his soaked t-shirt pressed against his thin and bony torso. "But I guess Steven was right," he says with a heavy sigh, "I do need to get my shit together."

"James, get out of the shower," I say while giving him a look, "Your clothes are soaked. What did you do that for?" 

"The water helps."

"Helps what?"

"There's a reason why I've been made to go those counselling sessions," he replies, finally turning around. Amongst the steam and rays of setting sunlight, the guy looked frailer than ever before. "I've been having really bad anxiety," he states simply.

"What? Like panic attacks?"

"You could say that," he mumbles, not even bothering to make eye contact.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, there're not exactly panic attacks," James replies with dread oozing from his voice, "I've... kind of... been having problems with my temper... like... sudden bursts of anger and paranoia..."

"So you're having really bad mood swings?"

"Yeah."

"Does the counsellor know about this?"

"No."

"How bad are they?" I ask.

"Like Em on her period."

I can't help to laugh. "Oh fuck."

That manages to crack a small smile. He steps fully out of the water before quickly turning the shower off, letting his clothes drip on the floor.

"How are you gonna get home now?" I ask, giving his sodden state a thoughtful once over, "You can't get on your bike like this."

"I haven't got my bike."