Mr Beast One Shots Boy x Boy

At the breakfast table Part 2.

A.N

I'm so sorry for such a late update, but thank you so much for the continual support and getting me to 3k reads!! ❤❤

Jimmy's p.o.v

Do I drink or do drugs? No. Do I wake up disoriented, with a headache, and not remembering the night before? You betcha.

It's dark outside when I open my eyes, sleep practically gluing my eyelashes together, and I'm assuming that I slept through the entire day. But it isn't the good, restful sleep. It's the sleep where you wake up almost more tired than when you fell asleep. It's the sleep that makes you stiff, and has your eyes uncomfortably foggy far longer than they should be. The type of sleep where no matter how much you try to force your eyes to stay shut, you know you won't be able to start dreaming again, and you will just be laying in bed for hours on end, just sitting there. Or in this case, on the couch.

"Your mom stopped by". Chandler's voice is soft, but his eyes are softer as he watches me from the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest.

"What"? I mumble, rubbing my forehead in attempt to focus, before moving on to rub my eyes. I heard him fine, but I am to discombobulated to know what the hell he is talking about.

"Yeah, she talked to your doctor". He enters the room, handing me a glass of water as he nears me. "She said that getting sick is completely normal for having just started new treatments. Albeit, a little disconcerting that it was so sudden and you had no previous symptoms but normal nonetheless". I barely listen to him, just happy to finally have something to drink. My voice is wrecked. I sound like I swallowed a chainsaw, and my mouth feels like I ate a pound of sawdust before passing out in a desert for two years. "How are you feeling"? 

"I'm fine", I cough as I finish downing the entire glass, handing it back to him without saying anything else, so I don't say something I'll regret. I'm in one of those moods where almost every little thing that comes out of my mouth has to be hateful or sarcastic. He sets the cup down on the coffee table beside the couch. "What time is it"? I mumble, attempting to clear my throat yet again.

"Four".

"In the morning?! I was supposed to meet up with Garrett yesterday". I throw the blanket off of me, pushing the couch cushions aside in search of my phone. He probably texted and called me a dozen times.

"Yeah, I know. He came over to. And obviously, he understood why you had to cancel", he says still standing over me, hands on his hips like a scolding, yet understanding mother.

"You should've woke me up. My sleeping schedule is gonna be screwed", I sigh, not angry with him despite acting as if I am. Yes, I am slightly upset. I still feel sick, it is four in the morning and I won't be able to fall asleep again, I missed out on shooting a video with Garrett, and over all, I am having one of the worst days of my life. Even still, I'm being a lot colder to him than I probably should be. He frowns, looking down at the ground, making me sigh as guilt floods over me. I don't mean to be rude, and it's obvious he wrongly feels responsible for all that's happened, despite the fact that he was the one who helped me. He's always the one to stick by me and clean up my messes. I clear my throat before speaking again. "Thanks again. For everything". My voice is quiet. Awkward, and sounding forced. He perks up a little, obviously feeling the satisfactory of a job well done, his mood brightening over the simplest of things, before walking over to me. 

"What? Waiting for an apology to", I say sarcastically before internally groaning. I probably should apologize . "I'm-"

"Shhh", he presses his pointer finger against my lips, and this time I frown.