Samantha Johnson's P.O.V.
I drove to my house, parking at the garage. Jack's eyes widen.
"You live here?!" He exclaimed, looking at the mansion. I just nod. "I... I never thought you live in, I mean– just, woah."
"Yeah. My parents are both owners of big companies." We entered my house as he look around in astonishment.
"Where are your parents?" I pushed the key in the door before getting in, Jack following suit. I shrugged, "They're... Not always at home."
"What does that mean?" I shrugged, "They're not here." I cleared my throat, "You want to play video games? To get your mind off of the talk earlier and all."
"I guess so, but do you think I could have some water?"
"Of course." I went to the kitchen as I let him sit in the living room. I came back with two glasses and a bottle of water.
"Here." I said, handing him a glass with water.
"Thanks." He lightly smiled.
"No problem." I sat beside him, taking my phone out. He took a small sip of water before putting the glass down on the small table. I grabbed the controllers and handed him one, smirking, "Ready to lose?"
"If we're playing Fifa, you're sooooo totally losing." He said, nudging me. I nudge back, "I'd like to see you try."
***
"Aha! Told you!" I said, jumping up as I beat him. It was a close game. 6-5.
"You're just lucky cause I went easy on you." He scoffed, crossing his arms. I just stuck my tongue out at him. He stuck his tongue out at me too and I laughed. I grabbed the controllers and put them beside the television.
"Come on. I'll give you a tour around the house." I grabbed his wrist, starting our long journey around the house.
"Sammmm. Slow downnnn." I stopped, looking back at Jack. He didn't need his crutches anymore but I guess I was too fast.
"Right. Sorry." I said, smiling sheepishly.
"It's okay." He chuckled. After the tour, we just walked, "So, there's a pool, the game room, the study room, there's also hidden rooms, there's a small library, the garage, the soundproof room, and blah blah blah etc." I sighed, "There's so many rooms, I might've forgot some. But, also. There's three extra rooms here. You want to stay the night?"
"Sure but do you want to go to Corbyn's house? To tell him what happened and to maybe get advice?" He asked, suddenly wanting to go to Corbyn's. It made me recall about the night I was there. He really likes you. I looked at him and nod, "Let's go."
***
"Why are you throwing pebbles at his window? We could just use the doorbell."
"It's more fun this way." I said as I keep on throwing pebbles.
"Sam, if he hasn't answered by now, he could be asleep or ignoring you. Let's just go in through the front door." I sighed, "Fine."
We got to his porch and I tuned the knob, "Moron forgot to lock his door."
We went up to his room, assuming it's where he is. We heard small jumps and Corbyn's voice. We raised our brows at each other before I quickly but quietly opened the door. Inside stood a jumping Corbyn, singing along to the song on the radio while holding a comb. A guitar riff came in and he used the comb to serve as an imaginary guitar.
"Well, this is a surprise." I said, smiling. He saw us and quickly hide under his bed.
"Corbyn, come out." I chuckled. I turned back to Jack, "You sure you want to ask advice from him?"
Corbyn stayed under the bed, playing with the springs attached to it. One spring accidentally cut him, and he teared up, "Owiee..." He crawls out and held his finger out to me, "I has booboo."
I just looked at then weirdly, not knowing what to do nor what to say. I don't even think my mind is processing what's happening. Jack whispered, "I think I know what's happening. It's ageplay. It's kind of, well, you act younger than your age. It helps with stress so that's probably why he's doing it."
I just nodded, grabbing some peroxide and cotton balls. And a band aid. Corbyn sniffled. I hate to admit it, but this is just adorable. I grabbed his hand and started aiding it.
"Tank ou." He said, wrapping his arms and legs around my leg, sitting on my foot. He doesn't weigh much, thankfully.
"I think you need some rest." I chuckled.
Corbyn pouted, "No!"
"Corbyn." I chuckled, pulling him on the bed. Corbyn crossed his arms, trying to look angry.
"Right." I said, "Jack?"
"Yeah?" I asked. I gestured to Corbyn, not knowing what to do.
"Corbyn, buddy if you go to sleep, when you wake up we can play more okay? But you need to take a nap now." Jack said, walking up to Corbyn. I leaned by the doorway, crossing my arms as I looked at them, amused.
"Okay." Corbyn said, laying on the bed. I bit my lip, smiling. For someone who has such a terrible father, I'm glad Jack turned out differently
***
Four hours have passed before Corbyn walked out of his room. He looked at us as I closed the fridge, some cookies in my hand.
"Hey, Sam–ARE THOSE MY COOKIES?!" He quickly rushed to me.
"Chill. There's more in the fridge." He let out a sigh of relief.
"You don't understand. My mom made those." He gave me two, "Just don't eat all of them."
I instantly felt guilty and just hand them back. I sat down, looking on the counter top, "Jack wants to talk to you."
I heard a sigh, "No, really. I didn't mean it that way. Here." He hands me the cookies again, this time, it was four. "I'm just feeling kinda homesick right now."
"Nah. I'm good. I wasn't even hungry." I said, trying to smile him.
"I shouldn't have acted how I did when I saw you with the cookies. I'm sorry. I'll call my mom and have her make you a couple batches of the cookies if you like them." I smiled. "That would be nice. But, I'm serious. Jack wants to talk to you."
He left the cookies on the counter, "Okay. I'll go see what he needs."
"Hey, Jack." I heard them talk in the living room, but my thoughts drowned them out. 'You don't understand. My mom made those.' He's right. How could I understand? I don't even live with my parents let alone have a proper talk with them.
Word Count:1,116 words
