Roadtrip Oneshots

Jandy, Lost On You

Based on the song by Lewis Capaldi :) So maybe play it on loop while you read this? I don't mind, it's just a suggestion.

Also, a warning, there is alcohol abuse within this Oneshot, so read at your own risk x

I love you guys :)

----------------------------------------------------------

Andy

I'm wrenched from sleep by the sound of retching.

My eyes snap open tiredly, and I already know it's Jack. I sigh, rub my eyes as I sit up in bed.

With a yawn I reach for a jumper and pull it on, shivering at the perpetual empty space in the bed beside me. I can't remember the last time that side of the bed had been used. Filled with warmth.

The sounds of retching break my heart, but I keep my face hard. I head into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, and some paracetamol; almost routine by now.

I flick the lights on too, knowing he'll need them on to make it back to bed... that's only if he's in a well enough state to do so. Most nights he stays where he is, and I have to decide which option hurts less; sleeping alone, knowing he's feeling like crap in the bathroom, or I stay with him to take care of him, although it's futile.

Seeing the number of empty beer bottles laying around the flat, I gulp.

I take a breath as I knock on the bathroom door.

'Jackie? Can I come in?' I ask. Tilt my head a little.

I get no response. Just a moan, and gurgle, and a retch. I shove the door open and freeze. The glass slips from my hand, and I don't even hear the smash. Don't even feel the cold water rush over my bare feet.

My boyfriend's laying on his back, arching and jerking his body in all directions. I see vomit in his mouth, and I realise he's choking. His face red.

I fall to the floor next him and turn him on his side, and I slap his back a few times in sheer panic. My hands are shaking, and I watch with wide eyes as he coughs and splutters, vomit spilling down his front and pooling onto the floor.

I close my eyes, but hold him until he's finished throwing up. He gasps like a fish on dry land, and I brush the hair out his eyes. His hair's greasy and he's unshaven, but I don't care.

I need to make sure he's alright.

Tears spring to my eyes, and I realise I'm still shaking.

Jack would have died had I not woken up. Had I not come in at that moment. Had I not cared about him, not loved him, Jack would have died. Choked on his own vomit. On the floor of his bathroom.

These thoughts come to me disjointed and jumbled, and I find myself rocking back and forth. I'm still shaking, even long after Jack falls back asleep, and I prop him up on his side.

The sleep from before is completely gone, having been vanquished by the state of my boyfriend. I force myself to stay awake. After all, what if it happens again? What if Jack starts choking and I'm fast asleep? What happens then?

Sniffling, I press a kiss to Jack's head, and clean up the vomit on the floor, and do my best with his front. I wrinkle my nose at the smell, but there's not a lot I can do while he's passed out on the bathroom floor.

Next is the smashed glass. I clean up every last shard, and strangely enough I don't feel it when the shards dig into my palms. I just look down to see blood, and wonder how it happened. The red drips to the floor, and I realise I'm kneeling on a wet floor.