Jameson Jackson & an Empty Household

1. Unknown

Hey! So I've finally decided to post it over here too! I'll be slowly adding things like the chapters and tags and whatever. My Tumblr is bribrifeefee if you want to ask me something, talk to me, or just follow me! Hope y'all enjoy this!
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One thing Jameson didn't expect last night when he fell asleep was to wake up in a different room. He also didn't expect to have a tea towel to be wrapped around his fingers. But here he was doing both.

He got out of bed and explored the room a little. There wasn't much in here, just some dressers, an empty picture frame, a wall clock, and a couple of doors. He opened one of the doors.

The room was a smallish closet. There was a metal bar and rack in the top half of the closet. The rack held a blue and white iron, while the bar had a couple of hangars on it. Leaning against the back wall was an ironing board with a dark blue cover on it.

Jameson tilted his head in confusion. When did ironing boards become collapsible? Jameson shook his head and closed the door. Maybe he was in one of those nicer hotels that got new products the moment they came out. Though he supposes if that was true it was a very nice hotel.

He wandered over to one of the other doors and opened it. He stared at the nice, pristine loo. He walked over to the sink and took off the towel wrapped around his fingers. The skin underneath was stained red while the towel was dark brown. Jameson sighed and set the towel on the countertop. Hopefully, the dried blood can still come out of it.

He turned the faucet on and let the water run over his hand. He began to try to wash the blood away. This was going to be quite the story when he gets home. Jameson frowned in thought. Where was he anyway? It's not like he had the money (or time) to go wherever he wanted. It's the same reason he decided to get a flat mate when he moved into his apartment.

Speaking of flat mate, Jameson always found him to be odd. He wasn't a bad man. He just to... eccentric sometimes. His flat mate also had this tendency to just randomly appear at times, came home at odd times in the morning, and occasionally asked Jameson what day it was. No matter how often he was out, he always paid the rent on time and sometimes even paid Jameson's half. He was strange but he was alright.

Jameson looked at his hand and saw a small wound on his index finger. The rest of his hand was fine and the blood washed off. The wound reminded him off all the times he's gotten paper cuts. How did such a small wound cause so much blood? Jameson let out a sigh and look up at the mirror on the wall. He froze as he saw his reflection in the mirror. He looked like he just walked out of a film. Not the newer ones, the (slightly) older ones that had the sepia filtering. Jameson swallowed in fear. Maybe- maybe he was just dreaming. Surely, that had to be the logical reason as to why he's here. Or perhaps he went to a bar and someone slipped him something. 'Cause this- This was not real.

Jameson turned back to the bedroom and made his way to the bed. Maybe he if just went back to sleep, he'll wake up home safe and sound.