He Doesn't Talk Much - Jacksepticeye Egos Fanfic

Chapter 12 - Two Months Later

"I can still call myself Jackie, though, cause I know for a fact that he called himself Jackie on occasion."

"Uh, well... I mean, it's fine on occasion, but don't get into a habit of it, I guess."

"Hm," Jackie said, sighing, "I could probably get away with Jackieboy , too."

Chase shrugged. "Look, it's like I said. Just... don't make a habit of it. To them, his name is still Jack. Or Seán, if you're feeling spicy."

Jackie nodded, and they fell silent.

After a moment, he clapped Chase on the shoulder. "I'm going home. You should, too."

"That's okay," Chase replied, forcing a smile. His hand wandered up to his baseball cap, and he adjusted it absentmindedly. "It's my weekend with the kids... I'm picking them up at six. I can stay until then."

Jackie smiled. "Have fun. Tell 'em I said hi."

Chase laughed lightly. "Will do. Keep those streets clean."

Jackie nodded eagerly before slipping out the door, leaving Chase alone with their friend. Chase sighed.

Jack was lying on the hospital bed, motionless. If not for the dully beeping monitor beside his cot, one might think he was dead. He'd been under for over two months... ever since Anti had knocked him out in August. Chase had been the one to drive him to the hospital, where the doctors were still completely at a loss as to what had caused the coma. 

Chase and Jackie handled his channel now, greeting the audience with a "top of the mornin'!" every single day without fail. Chase tended to pick up the majority of the videos, with Jackie filling in where he could. Between the two of them, Chase's own YouTube experience made him the better impersonator.

Between maintaining Jack's famously relentless upload schedule, visiting the hospital, checking in with Jameson and Jackie, and trying to pick up work where he could find it, Chase's days were packed. But even so, he often found himself sitting in the hospital with nothing to do but wait.

Chase was lost in thought when he felt something move against his thigh. He snapped his gaze down as his brain jumped to work- fur? cat? here? Marvin? -and saw his phone flashing and buzzing in his pocket.

"Oh," he muttered, smiling a little as he picked it up. "Hey, Stacy. How are you?"

"Hi, Chase," his ex-wife's familiar voice cut through the phone like a knife. "Hey, I'm really sorry to do this to you, but the little one just caught a stomach bug, and I'm really worried."

"That's okay," Chase assured her, though his heart broke for his daughter. "I can handle it. Hell," he snickered sympathetically, absentmindedly toying with the edge of Jack's bedsheet. "If you need to bring her to the hospital, I'll already be here."

"The hospital...? Chase, why are you there again?"

"I told you, Stace. My friend is here. I'm visiting."

"Ugh... whatever," Stacy huffed. "I just... ugh. Nothing."

Chase pressed his lips together. He didn't dare ask what was on her mind. He knew she had been planning to chastise him for wasting his time in the whitewashed halls of some unhappy coma ward. But why make her waste her breath? He had told himself the same thing on multiple occasions.

"I was kidding," Chase said, keeping his voice as bright as the cold lights overhead. "I'll be there. Stomach bug or no."

There was a long, tense pause. "Chase, I'm sorry, I just I really want to keep them home this weekend."

Chase's heart sunk.

"Stacy..."

"She's been throwing up all day, Chase. It's in their best interest." She waited for him to respond, but Chase was silent once more. "Chase?"

"Can I just talk to them?" he pleaded. "Can you put them on-"

"Oh, no- oh," Stacy gasped, pulling away from the phone. "Oh, Chase, she's getting sick again. I'll call you back tomorrow."

"Don't bother," Chase replied flatly. "Talk to you later. Bye-"

She hung up.

"-honey," Chase finished, into the dial tone. He sighed painfully and lowered the phone, tucking it back into his pocket.

The only sounds now were the beeping of the vitals monitor and the shuffle of feet outside the room. Chase hung his head, peering at Jack's sleeping face.

With an aggressive sigh, he shrugged backwards in his chair and kicked his feet up against the side of his friend's cot.

"Good news, buddy," he said, with false cheeriness and a winning smile. He patted Jack's blanket jovially. "My weekend just opened up..."