Jonathan: A Fanfiction Novel

October 19

The next morning I wake up on the living room floor. My breath is so foul, I gag. There's drool on John's clothes, and a near empty bottle of whiskey and a glass on the coffee table. My head is throbbing and something is letting out a very steady, high pitched ringing. 

John, what did you do last night?

Before I do anything else, I have to get the taste of hours-old whiskey breath out of my mouth, and go brush. I can hear the bristles against my teeth as if my mouth an amplifier, and my head continues to pulse intensely. I rinse my mouth, take an Advil, and take a seat on the couch.

The camera has been recording all night. I rewind the footage, which reveals in a pathetic visual, that at some point, John passed out during his video, then fell off the couch. He hadn't even bothered to get into pajamas.

I rewind to the beginning of the video to witness a drunken version of John, who can barely sit up and takes a lot of pauses in his speech.

"I... tried to tell her," he slurs. "I couldn't do it... BUT IT'S OVER!" he yells. "I hope you're happy, Jonathan. I.." he takes a long pause before toppling to his side on the couch, asleep.

I turn off the TV and clean up in the wake of my storming brother. I barely get the glass in the sink before there's a knock. A knock on my front door.

I need you to understand that never, in my life, has anyone ever come over to my house, and for good reason as I'm sure you can tell, so I stand there, stunned, until the intruder pounds more insistently on the door. There's no sending them away, so I cautiously make my way to the door.

John, what have you done?

It's Elena at the door, and I ask the question again. She looks like she's about to knock the door down, so I open it before her fist can connect to the wood again.

"Honestly, John. What the fuck?" she says. Yeah, John, what she said.

I let her in, but don't say anything, because I have no clue what to do about this. Why is she here? How is she here? She's just glaring at me, and I know I have to say something.

"Look, I don't know what John told you, but knowing him, it probably wasn't very clear," I admit.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she says impatiently. She crosses her arms and pops her hips, her gaze unwavering.

"I'm not John, I'm his brother," I explain. She lets out an irritated huff.

"John, you left my house like, two hours ago in that same outfit, I'm not stupid." Elena scoffs.

Now I understand why he couldn't tell her. We've never had to tell anyone before, and it's a lot harder than it sounds.

"Just... just leave. He doesn't want to see you anymore." I dismiss her with a wave of my hand, but she's still standing there, determined.

"'He.' Right." she says. She whips out her phone and presses a few buttons. John's phone rings in my pocket. I didn't even get a chance to plug it in for him, or put on my clothes.

"It's his phone," I try. "It- look. John, is my brother. I'm Jonathan. We share the same body,"

"Real cute, John," she rolls her eyes heavily.

"It's rare, but it exists! We- we take shifts. I'm awake from 7AM to 7PM, and he's awake from 7PM to 7AM. Right now, he's asleep, inside me." I hold my hands up in surrender. I don't know what I think this will achieve, but whatever it does is better than what's going on right now.

"I've heard some crazy fucking shit in my day, but this is by the far the craziest. You're insane, John!" she says. She barrels toward me, with her hands outstretched and I don't know what to do, then she has me shoved up against the wall. Her eyes are cold and unforgiving now, making it feel more like she's standing over me now. She scoffs in my face after a minute then bolts out the door.

"How much did you drink last night?" I ask John. "Because I woke up sick from your hangover, and before I could even clean up your mess, there was a knock at the door. Yes, John. A knock. Do you want to guess who it was? Why does she think she has the carte blanche to come over here? How does she even know where we live? Christ, John, do you know how many rules you've broken?!"

I'm trying really hard not to be so angry at him because it doesn't do us any good, but it's like he's taking it as a personal challenge now.

"I took care of it. She won't be coming back anymore... Can we get back to normal now?"