Fireworks. [Chapter Twenty-Two]
Title: Fireworks
Author: Harriet, a.k.a masokisstiic
Rating: R
Pairing: Alex and Jack, if the kids don't believe, make them believe.
POV: Third
Summary: So it's true what they say, if you love someone, you should set them free.
Disclaimer: Totally fictional, soz.
Credit: Title to YouMeAtSix
A/N: I bet you didn't expect this, muahaha.
Tumblr.
Masterpost.
The young male was finally relieved to scrape his chair back, and be free of the awful woman who adored questioning him.
She kept trying to empathise with him, telling him that it’s okay to feel isolated, to not want to talk, that she’d been through it all before, Jack could tell she was simply bullshitting. Were psychiatrists even allowed to do that? Lie to their well, patient? He very much doubted so, but there was not much he could do about that.
Jack would much rather stay at home in bed, wallowing in self-pity and sorrow, but he knew his mother wouldn’t approve. She didn’t even trust him anymore.
It had been four days since being released from hospital, and Jack was under strict watch. His mother had removed all razors from the bathroom, so that Jack wouldn’t feel an urge and be triggered by the objects. He had to ask her this morning for one to shave his growing stubble with, but she said only if she was allowed to stand and watch. He knew she was just protective, but this was stupid. He’d regretted his actions since landing in hospital, at least, he regretted the failure of it all. If he’d have succeeded, he couldn’t help but to think everything would be so much easier. He’d be pain free, without a single worry in the world, it would just be him at the pearly white gates, having a chat to God about what a waste his life was. Yeah, that would be better than this.
“Same time again next week, Jack, okay? And maybe this time we could make a slight improvement.” The woman sighed, as the American boy had not been co-operative towards her at all. He just sat; hands locked together, thumbs twiddling in his lap. He didn’t even make eye contact once, and that was worrying. At least she was positive things would gradually become more easier as the therapeutic sessions continued, and maybe she could find the source for the self-harm, and gradually put an end to it.
The boy was already on anti-depressants now, though, amongst other pain relief medication for his hip and head. They were still throbbing like a bitch, and Jack had been warned to be careful. Apparently, the stitches could easily burst open, and if that happened, that would mean more sewing through his flesh to replace them, and Jack felt queasy just thinking about it. He wasn’t supposed to be sewn up, he counted himself lucky that he didn’t have to be awake to watch the doctor push the needle through.
Jack picked up his Monster branded baseball cap from off of his psychiatrist’s desk. Placing it back upon his head, he tilted the curved brim to the side. He never used to be a ‘cap’ kind of guy, but since being discharged from hospital, he was rarely seen without one. To sew stitches into the back of his head, they required to partially shave a clump of Jack’s hair, of course, this created a great dispute. Those who knew Jack knew that his hair meant a lot to him, so to run your fingers along the back of your head and feel baldness, it was fucking scary. His confidence dropped, and swore that he would never go out in public again unless the shaven patch was in disguise.
“Bye.” Jack murmured as he padded towards the door of his psychiatrist’s room. He was thankful that there were seven days between his next visit, it seemed a little less daunting.
Pushing down on the handle, Jack exited the room. The corridor was long, and the walls were a bleak beige, nothing hanging upon them, no paintings, no posters, no nothing. If anything, Jack found it depressing to be surrounded by such dull, boring walls. Perhaps there was a suggestion box in the reception area for Jack to offer a complaint.
With his head tilted to the floor, Jack watched his footsteps closely. He counted his steps in fives, for some reason, it appeared to calm him, taking his mind off of everything. “One, two, three, four-“
Jack was cut short as his steps were barricaded, his shoulder colliding against something solid. A pair of hands lashed out, the palms shoving Jack in the chest, knocking him down to the floor.
“Fucking watch it!” The voice above yelled angrily, as Jack was left to massage his hip with his fingers. “Please say my stitches are still intact...”
Propping himself up with his elbows, Jack glared up at the male who was currently towering over. The American was surprised to see an apologetic look plastered upon the mysterious person’s face.
“O-oh God, I’m so s-sorry!” The strange male’s voice stuttered, a hand reaching out, “Here, let me help you up. Are you okay? Oh fuck, I didn’t mean to shout, or push you, or well just any of that, really.” He babbled, as Jack grasped his hand.
The boy on the floor noticed as the other male’s sleeve rode up, that his wrists and hands were patterned with ink. Peering up the sleeve, Jack noticed that all of his arm seemed to be covered in tattoos. Jack didn’t know how anybody could put themselves through pain like that. But he was perfectly capable with slicing his flesh to pieces.
The odd boy pulled Jack up from the floor, “I have a really, really, short temper, if you haven’t noticed already. I just, it’s such a big problem for me. Hence why I’m in the loony bin,” A nervous giggle. “I’m not crazy though, just troubled... Yeah, troubled, that seems to fit well. Anyway, oh God, I’m talking too much, aren’t I? I just hope you know that I’m sorry, and it was my fault. You really are okay, aren’t you?”
Jack rolled his eyes, the other male seemed pleasant enough now that his apology speech was complete, though he could see himself becoming annoyed if the boy didn’t let him get a word in edgeways.
“I’m fine, I think.” Jack responded, his hand still glued against his hip, as if that would help stop the pain. “I think a stitch may have split, though.” He cringed, but didn’t have the guts to check. For all he knew, he could just be being overdramatic.
‘Stitches? Oh, shit. Fuck, fuck, I’m so sorry if it has. I would offer to sew it back up, but I’m not a doctor, haha, no, I could never be a doctor, I can’t even look after myself let alone other people.” At least the boy’s strong Sheffield accent gained him brownie points with Jack, though he was quickly getting on the male’s nerves with his fast-talking. Jack guessed it was due to the shock of actually hurting somebody.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” Jack breathed, and a little chuckle to lighten the atmosphere. “Just, don’t do it again, please?”
The clearly older male nodded, “Don’t worry, I wont, I just... Fuck, I can’t believe I done that.”
“Seriously, man, just forget it!” Jack was laughing now, bemused by how this boy was still beating himself up over something that was so thirty seconds ago.
“Just believe me that it wasn’t on purpose. If I knew that the person I was shoving was as gorgeous as you, fuck, I would have let you pass, man.”
Jack raised an eyebrow; did he seriously just get called ‘gorgeous’ by a stranger? A stranger of the same sex, too?
Today was definitely a weird day.
Jack’s silence caused the other to feel uncomfortable, “Aw, no, you’re straight, aren’t you? Fuck, I need to rewire my gaydar.” He groaned, only causing Jack to giggle.
“I’m not straight, actually.” He confirmed, “I mean, isn’t my camp voice enough of a clue?”
The elder shrugged his shoulders, “I didn’t really want to say in case you got offended.” He admitted shyly.
“Well, no offence taken,” Jack folded his arms across his chest as his eyes darted up and down the mystery boy’s body.
He was of a bigger build than Jack was, but that wasn’t surprising, most people were. The male’s arms appeared to be muscular as they stretched his t-shirt, and Jack noticed the outline of his abs. He was impressed, to say the least.
What he admired most though, was the tattoos.
“I would never have thought a person like you would be gay, though.” Jack grinned, “You look like you’re about to go off on a killing spree, and what’s that...?” Jack lifted one of the boy’s hands, noticing four letters printed on his knuckles. “Dead.” He read, “How pleasant.”
“Pansexual, actually. Every hole's a goal." He laughed, "Don't worry though, I'm not into beastiality, or paedophilia. But that my dear acquaintance, is why you should never judge a book by it’s cover.” The older boy responded, “The tattoos are simply art, they’re not meant to be threatening. I like to think of my body as a canvas.” He shrugged.
Jack nodded, smiling. He was surprised at how he actually seemed to be getting along with such a different being, and not a single thought of Alex had crossed his mind. Most definitely odd.
“How poetic.” Jack teased, sarcasm licking his words.
“You’d be surprised, I can give ol’ Billy Shakespeare a good run for his money!”
Jack shook his head, just having to laugh. “Yeah, I bet you can.” He played along. As he chuckled, Jack noticed how the rings pierced through the other boy’s bottom lip drew his attention. Jack’s eyes watched as the opposite male began to gently tug at one of the hoops with his top teeth, he found himself quite captivated.
“Why are you here, anyway, like?” Jack was asked, and he had to force himself to keep concentration.
“Uh, oh...” He mumbled, “Just...”
“Don’t worry, I can see it’s hard.” The male smiled, reassurance washing over Jack.
“Thanks.”
“If it makes you feel better, you probably can’t be as fucked up as I am. I mean, you’ve witnessed my anger, so that’s a bonus. But, just to add to that, I’m addicted to cocaine, I suffer from bipolar disorder, and the reason I’m this way is because my own Dad beat me when I was a kid.”
Jack’s jaw fell, he hadn’t expected that at all, and he almost didn’t believe the other male from the way he was so open about everything. “A-are you serious?”
The boy nodded, “Yup. I mean, when I was a teenager nobody knew this stuff, but as the years go on, it’s like, fuck, I need help, and like talking as you can tell. So whatever, I let the whole world know my daddy issues.”
Listening to him talk, Jack was confused by the other’s age. “Wait, so how old are you?” He questioned.
“Twenty-one, but it’s my birthday in a couple of days.” He beamed.
Jack’s heart sank a little, he hadn’t expect this boy, no, man, to be so old. He was what, almost four years older than himself?
He wasn’t quite sure why he felt saddened, it wasn’t as if he had any plans for this male, not since this whole Alex thing.
There that boy was again though, finally worming his way back to torment poor Jack.
Jack was furious how Alex was now beginning to ruin everything, though it wasn’t his fault that the attractive male opposite was probably too old for him. He just simple wished that the other English boy would fuck right off completely, and let him go for good this time. His heart had ached too much, and maybe the man in front, with snakebites, and every inch of him splattered with ink, was fate’s way of telling him to move on.
Even Alex himself had told him to just try and forget him, find somebody else, somebody better, except Jack knew that no matter what happened, no matter how hard he tried to hate Alex, there would always be that small part of him that simply longed for him. And anyway, Jack knew that second best would be all he'd ever know.
The American was also well aware that this small piece of him would take Alex back in a heartbeat, no matter what the situation was. He just doubted Alex would ever come back, especially not now.
- - - -
Jack watched as the boy opposite suddenly slid his mobile from his skin-tight jeans pocket, his eyes widening. Jack guessed he was glancing at the time.
“You’re late for your appointment, aren’t you?” Jack smirked, to which the other nodded.
“Ten minutes, man, Em is gonna fucking kill me.” The adult whined.
“Em?”
“Dr. Walker, ‘cept I call her Em ‘cause I’ve been seeing her for like two years now.” The male shrugged, “But damn, I’m so sorry I have to dash, like, if I’m late again, I’ll probably get a smack.” The way he whimpered made Jack believe he wasn’t joking. “No doubt next week I’ll run into you again!” He called as he began a slow jog down the corridor, looking over his shoulder, he watched the confused boy, “Oh, and I forgot, my name’s Oliver by the way, but you can call me Oli!” And then with the blink of an eye, he vanished.
Scratching the side of his head, Jack was fucking positive that that had all just been a crazy dream.
Author: Harriet, a.k.a masokisstiic
Rating: R
Pairing: Alex and Jack, if the kids don't believe, make them believe.
POV: Third
Summary: So it's true what they say, if you love someone, you should set them free.
Disclaimer: Totally fictional, soz.
Credit: Title to YouMeAtSix
A/N: I bet you didn't expect this, muahaha.
Tumblr.
Masterpost.
The young male was finally relieved to scrape his chair back, and be free of the awful woman who adored questioning him.
She kept trying to empathise with him, telling him that it’s okay to feel isolated, to not want to talk, that she’d been through it all before, Jack could tell she was simply bullshitting. Were psychiatrists even allowed to do that? Lie to their well, patient? He very much doubted so, but there was not much he could do about that.
Jack would much rather stay at home in bed, wallowing in self-pity and sorrow, but he knew his mother wouldn’t approve. She didn’t even trust him anymore.
It had been four days since being released from hospital, and Jack was under strict watch. His mother had removed all razors from the bathroom, so that Jack wouldn’t feel an urge and be triggered by the objects. He had to ask her this morning for one to shave his growing stubble with, but she said only if she was allowed to stand and watch. He knew she was just protective, but this was stupid. He’d regretted his actions since landing in hospital, at least, he regretted the failure of it all. If he’d have succeeded, he couldn’t help but to think everything would be so much easier. He’d be pain free, without a single worry in the world, it would just be him at the pearly white gates, having a chat to God about what a waste his life was. Yeah, that would be better than this.
“Same time again next week, Jack, okay? And maybe this time we could make a slight improvement.” The woman sighed, as the American boy had not been co-operative towards her at all. He just sat; hands locked together, thumbs twiddling in his lap. He didn’t even make eye contact once, and that was worrying. At least she was positive things would gradually become more easier as the therapeutic sessions continued, and maybe she could find the source for the self-harm, and gradually put an end to it.
The boy was already on anti-depressants now, though, amongst other pain relief medication for his hip and head. They were still throbbing like a bitch, and Jack had been warned to be careful. Apparently, the stitches could easily burst open, and if that happened, that would mean more sewing through his flesh to replace them, and Jack felt queasy just thinking about it. He wasn’t supposed to be sewn up, he counted himself lucky that he didn’t have to be awake to watch the doctor push the needle through.
Jack picked up his Monster branded baseball cap from off of his psychiatrist’s desk. Placing it back upon his head, he tilted the curved brim to the side. He never used to be a ‘cap’ kind of guy, but since being discharged from hospital, he was rarely seen without one. To sew stitches into the back of his head, they required to partially shave a clump of Jack’s hair, of course, this created a great dispute. Those who knew Jack knew that his hair meant a lot to him, so to run your fingers along the back of your head and feel baldness, it was fucking scary. His confidence dropped, and swore that he would never go out in public again unless the shaven patch was in disguise.
“Bye.” Jack murmured as he padded towards the door of his psychiatrist’s room. He was thankful that there were seven days between his next visit, it seemed a little less daunting.
Pushing down on the handle, Jack exited the room. The corridor was long, and the walls were a bleak beige, nothing hanging upon them, no paintings, no posters, no nothing. If anything, Jack found it depressing to be surrounded by such dull, boring walls. Perhaps there was a suggestion box in the reception area for Jack to offer a complaint.
With his head tilted to the floor, Jack watched his footsteps closely. He counted his steps in fives, for some reason, it appeared to calm him, taking his mind off of everything. “One, two, three, four-“
Jack was cut short as his steps were barricaded, his shoulder colliding against something solid. A pair of hands lashed out, the palms shoving Jack in the chest, knocking him down to the floor.
“Fucking watch it!” The voice above yelled angrily, as Jack was left to massage his hip with his fingers. “Please say my stitches are still intact...”
Propping himself up with his elbows, Jack glared up at the male who was currently towering over. The American was surprised to see an apologetic look plastered upon the mysterious person’s face.
“O-oh God, I’m so s-sorry!” The strange male’s voice stuttered, a hand reaching out, “Here, let me help you up. Are you okay? Oh fuck, I didn’t mean to shout, or push you, or well just any of that, really.” He babbled, as Jack grasped his hand.
The boy on the floor noticed as the other male’s sleeve rode up, that his wrists and hands were patterned with ink. Peering up the sleeve, Jack noticed that all of his arm seemed to be covered in tattoos. Jack didn’t know how anybody could put themselves through pain like that. But he was perfectly capable with slicing his flesh to pieces.
The odd boy pulled Jack up from the floor, “I have a really, really, short temper, if you haven’t noticed already. I just, it’s such a big problem for me. Hence why I’m in the loony bin,” A nervous giggle. “I’m not crazy though, just troubled... Yeah, troubled, that seems to fit well. Anyway, oh God, I’m talking too much, aren’t I? I just hope you know that I’m sorry, and it was my fault. You really are okay, aren’t you?”
Jack rolled his eyes, the other male seemed pleasant enough now that his apology speech was complete, though he could see himself becoming annoyed if the boy didn’t let him get a word in edgeways.
“I’m fine, I think.” Jack responded, his hand still glued against his hip, as if that would help stop the pain. “I think a stitch may have split, though.” He cringed, but didn’t have the guts to check. For all he knew, he could just be being overdramatic.
‘Stitches? Oh, shit. Fuck, fuck, I’m so sorry if it has. I would offer to sew it back up, but I’m not a doctor, haha, no, I could never be a doctor, I can’t even look after myself let alone other people.” At least the boy’s strong Sheffield accent gained him brownie points with Jack, though he was quickly getting on the male’s nerves with his fast-talking. Jack guessed it was due to the shock of actually hurting somebody.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” Jack breathed, and a little chuckle to lighten the atmosphere. “Just, don’t do it again, please?”
The clearly older male nodded, “Don’t worry, I wont, I just... Fuck, I can’t believe I done that.”
“Seriously, man, just forget it!” Jack was laughing now, bemused by how this boy was still beating himself up over something that was so thirty seconds ago.
“Just believe me that it wasn’t on purpose. If I knew that the person I was shoving was as gorgeous as you, fuck, I would have let you pass, man.”
Jack raised an eyebrow; did he seriously just get called ‘gorgeous’ by a stranger? A stranger of the same sex, too?
Today was definitely a weird day.
Jack’s silence caused the other to feel uncomfortable, “Aw, no, you’re straight, aren’t you? Fuck, I need to rewire my gaydar.” He groaned, only causing Jack to giggle.
“I’m not straight, actually.” He confirmed, “I mean, isn’t my camp voice enough of a clue?”
The elder shrugged his shoulders, “I didn’t really want to say in case you got offended.” He admitted shyly.
“Well, no offence taken,” Jack folded his arms across his chest as his eyes darted up and down the mystery boy’s body.
He was of a bigger build than Jack was, but that wasn’t surprising, most people were. The male’s arms appeared to be muscular as they stretched his t-shirt, and Jack noticed the outline of his abs. He was impressed, to say the least.
What he admired most though, was the tattoos.
“I would never have thought a person like you would be gay, though.” Jack grinned, “You look like you’re about to go off on a killing spree, and what’s that...?” Jack lifted one of the boy’s hands, noticing four letters printed on his knuckles. “Dead.” He read, “How pleasant.”
“Pansexual, actually. Every hole's a goal." He laughed, "Don't worry though, I'm not into beastiality, or paedophilia. But that my dear acquaintance, is why you should never judge a book by it’s cover.” The older boy responded, “The tattoos are simply art, they’re not meant to be threatening. I like to think of my body as a canvas.” He shrugged.
Jack nodded, smiling. He was surprised at how he actually seemed to be getting along with such a different being, and not a single thought of Alex had crossed his mind. Most definitely odd.
“How poetic.” Jack teased, sarcasm licking his words.
“You’d be surprised, I can give ol’ Billy Shakespeare a good run for his money!”
Jack shook his head, just having to laugh. “Yeah, I bet you can.” He played along. As he chuckled, Jack noticed how the rings pierced through the other boy’s bottom lip drew his attention. Jack’s eyes watched as the opposite male began to gently tug at one of the hoops with his top teeth, he found himself quite captivated.
“Why are you here, anyway, like?” Jack was asked, and he had to force himself to keep concentration.
“Uh, oh...” He mumbled, “Just...”
“Don’t worry, I can see it’s hard.” The male smiled, reassurance washing over Jack.
“Thanks.”
“If it makes you feel better, you probably can’t be as fucked up as I am. I mean, you’ve witnessed my anger, so that’s a bonus. But, just to add to that, I’m addicted to cocaine, I suffer from bipolar disorder, and the reason I’m this way is because my own Dad beat me when I was a kid.”
Jack’s jaw fell, he hadn’t expected that at all, and he almost didn’t believe the other male from the way he was so open about everything. “A-are you serious?”
The boy nodded, “Yup. I mean, when I was a teenager nobody knew this stuff, but as the years go on, it’s like, fuck, I need help, and like talking as you can tell. So whatever, I let the whole world know my daddy issues.”
Listening to him talk, Jack was confused by the other’s age. “Wait, so how old are you?” He questioned.
“Twenty-one, but it’s my birthday in a couple of days.” He beamed.
Jack’s heart sank a little, he hadn’t expect this boy, no, man, to be so old. He was what, almost four years older than himself?
He wasn’t quite sure why he felt saddened, it wasn’t as if he had any plans for this male, not since this whole Alex thing.
There that boy was again though, finally worming his way back to torment poor Jack.
Jack was furious how Alex was now beginning to ruin everything, though it wasn’t his fault that the attractive male opposite was probably too old for him. He just simple wished that the other English boy would fuck right off completely, and let him go for good this time. His heart had ached too much, and maybe the man in front, with snakebites, and every inch of him splattered with ink, was fate’s way of telling him to move on.
Even Alex himself had told him to just try and forget him, find somebody else, somebody better, except Jack knew that no matter what happened, no matter how hard he tried to hate Alex, there would always be that small part of him that simply longed for him. And anyway, Jack knew that second best would be all he'd ever know.
The American was also well aware that this small piece of him would take Alex back in a heartbeat, no matter what the situation was. He just doubted Alex would ever come back, especially not now.
- - - -
Jack watched as the boy opposite suddenly slid his mobile from his skin-tight jeans pocket, his eyes widening. Jack guessed he was glancing at the time.
“You’re late for your appointment, aren’t you?” Jack smirked, to which the other nodded.
“Ten minutes, man, Em is gonna fucking kill me.” The adult whined.
“Em?”
“Dr. Walker, ‘cept I call her Em ‘cause I’ve been seeing her for like two years now.” The male shrugged, “But damn, I’m so sorry I have to dash, like, if I’m late again, I’ll probably get a smack.” The way he whimpered made Jack believe he wasn’t joking. “No doubt next week I’ll run into you again!” He called as he began a slow jog down the corridor, looking over his shoulder, he watched the confused boy, “Oh, and I forgot, my name’s Oliver by the way, but you can call me Oli!” And then with the blink of an eye, he vanished.
Scratching the side of his head, Jack was fucking positive that that had all just been a crazy dream.