holding on • jenzie

17 ⇝ he'll take care of you

» Pain changes people. «

「 In which Mackenzie needs a saviour. 」

Dedicated to: jenzieforlife101 . Thanks for reading :)

A/N ~ Love you guys. Hope you enjoy this. I think my weeks break really helped me get this out– I was very inspired by Cassandra Clares writing haha. X

POV: Mackenzie Ziegler
DATE: 22 January 2026

•••

The television was blaring, blaring about some useless product that was supposed to improve your daily life drastically. Colours from the TV flashed around the dark room like strobe lights as the clip flicked from one scene to another. Honestly, I wasn't paying the slightest attention to the advert. The pounding headache I had stopped me from thinking much at all.

It was as if miniature soldiers were stomping and marching through my brain, pressing on my temples and behind my eyes. It was as if each breath caused them deep pain– the soilders quietened when I stopped breathing, but breathe I must if I want to live. Living through this pain was my main focus; breathe in, breathe out. It was all I could do, all I could think.

I simply lie here, a heavy patchwork blanket seemingly pinning my back to the couch. A kaleidoscope of colour dances behind my eyelids when I shut them, so keep them open I must. Staring at the ceiling and seeing light from the TV ricochet around is one thousand times better than the scintillating lights and patterns that I see when I close my eyes.

I considered calling for help, but merely opening my mouth caused something to clash a head-splitting cymbal inside of my head. Frankly, it hurt a lot– enough to make my eyes water.

My tears were not shed. I blinked them away.

Pound after pound, I endured the headache. It became worse when the room started to lighten with the beginning signs of dawn. I wanted to scream out in frustration, cry loudly in forgiveness, laugh obnoxiously in pain. It wouldn't have helped.

Hours passed, or so it seemed, so when I found that I was able to move to the side and curl up into a ball, I did so gratefully. It seemed like waves of gratitude were rolling through me; through my mind, through my head, through my bones. Whatever had made the pain cease, whoever had made the pain cease, deserved a gold medal and a crown in my eyes.

My limbs were tangled up in a ball for what felt like another few hours, but was probably mere minutes. When I went to move they screamed in protest. My eyes watered once again. I blinked profusely.

I slowly focused on releasing all the tension that had built up in my muscles, finding that after taking deep breaths and moving every limb an inch at a time, I was able to reach my phone. After pressing down on the home button as lightly as I could afford, the lock screen showed me I had a missed call from Lauren.

Lauren. She could help me.

Surprisingly, I found it easy to slide my thumb across and press call back, and I thanked the gods silently when she answered within a few seconds.

"Hello? Kenz?" Her familiar, and loud, voice filled my ears.

I winced at her tone, and when I managed a reply I wasn't the least bit surprised to find that my voice was croaky and that I felt parched, dry. "Lauren, I need you." I rasped.

"Whats wrong?" She immediately asked. "Did you fight with John? Is someone in our apartment?"

"No. Headache. Really bad. I can't get to John, Laur, I can't get to him. Help. " I begged in a voice barely surpassing a whisper.

"Hold on Kenz, hold on. I'll call him. Do you need painkillers? He can get you any." She lets out in a rush, worried already.

I nod gratefully before realizing she can't see me. "Please." I mumbled instead, shutting my eyes. The glare from my phone was not helping this early in the morning.

It took only seconds for Lauren to locate another phone to call Johnny, I knew because I could hear a blaring from down the hall already. Now I really close my eyes, shutting them tight– the shrill ringing makes the soldiers come back.

"He's coming, I promise. He'll take care of you." Lauren tells me gently, remarkably calm and faithful in her brothers abilities.

"Love you." I managed a weary goodbye as the phone slipped from my hands.

During the call, I'd developed a fever, a hot flush, and I couldn't get the blanket off me fast enough. Ripples of pain bloom down my throat now, hurting when I swallow. Help. I need help.

Seconds later, I lift my head to see Johnny running towards me, a distant and blurry shape that was slowly swimming into focus. If only I could see him, really see him. See his brown hair that curls slightly at the nape of his neck, see his green eyes that seem to sparkle when he talks about something he loves.

I'm becoming delirious, I know that now. Normally I push thoughts of Johnny deep below the surface and never let them bubble up, but they pour forth freely.

Johnny. Us as kids, being kids, being normal together. Singing off key down the hallways of our homes, having snow fights in Canada, taking selfies in the sunset and dancing stupidly to newly recorded songs. Us as teenagers– stealing moments alone to kiss and touch and feel, going on spontaneous dates and recklessly meeting each other in the darkness of night. Us as almost adults, talking about life and money and fame, and screaming about love and lust and our lost relationship.

A blank period settles in my mind then, a time period where I was alone. Where I spent Friday nights reading or writing songs– having no one to spend the nights with. Where I would occasionally hear snippets of interviews in which Johnny said my name and talked about our past as if we were never to have a future.

Reminiscing all this happens in less than ten seconds. Remembering all of the time I spent alone, sad and depressed, without even knowing, is why I cling so tightly to John when he reaches me. Because he is my lifeline, my anchor, my drug, the reason I breathe, and I can't imagine a world without him in it.

Grasping tightly to his shirt with my fists, I whisper a few words. "Voltaren and Nueramol. Top shelf. Please."

It's the please that does it. He runs away. I collapse back onto some scattered pillows, letting go of his shirt abruptly when he goes because of the digging pain I felt in my hands. Upon turning my hands over, I glance at the dark red divots my own nails made in my skin.

My hands hurt. My throat scratches. My headache pounds. My chest burns.

I can't tell you how long it took Johnny to get back, because I don't know– I was delirious. But when he did, I was filled with gratitude. It felt horrible, but I downed the pills he pressed into my cold and clammy hands with practiced precision.

I cry, and he holds me, rubbing soothing hands and fingers up and down my legs and arms that were folded up. It takes a while, but as the pain slowly subsides and the worlds natural colours filled the loungue room, I revel in the fact that now, I'm in love with Johnny Orlando.

•••

[1294 words]

Hope you enjoyed this as I spent a lot of time on it. It would be really cool if you could leave a comment telling me your thoughts. Thanks guys, <3 u all X