Organized Chaos (Thirteen)
Title: Organized Chaos
Author: Sunny
Pairing: Jack Barakat/ OC
Rating: NC-17
Summary: “Yes. You're scared. And, I mean, you should be. I'm telling you that I'm going to be forcing you to face your fears. And that's fucking scary. But what I'm also saying is that I'm going to help you through it. So it's going to be fucking scary, but I'm going to be right there with you helping you through it...okay?” Jack felt calm and relaxed. He regularly felt that way around Wyatt, especially in the wee hours of the morning. “So?” Jack asked. “You up for it?”
Disclaimer: I don't own Jack, Alex, or anyone in the lovely band and crew that make up All Time Low. They all own each other. Sunny and I do own all members of Hyperinflated Illuminations. Thank you.
Warnings: Obsessive compulsive disorder, eating disorders, alcoholism
http://turnthepageover.livejournal.com/57389.html
Wyatt was feeling restless. They had arrived at their next venue the night before so Jim got to sleep that night. But Wyatt didn't. While everyone else was sleeping in their bunks, Wyatt sat in the front room with the television's volume on low and his notebook on his lap. This wasn't a time he was able to write lyrics or compose music, but his notebook was somewhat of a security blanket to him. And he needed that notebook at that moment because, not only did he feel restless, but there was a feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was just going to go wrong. Of course, in Wyatt's world, everything went wrong all the time. The cushion could be in the wrong spot, someone may have unwound the cord to his phone charger and left it tangled and loose, or someone could have put the toilet paper on the dispenser wrong.
It was the day of their first benefit concert. It had to do with NEDA-The National Eating Disorder's Association and he was nervous about Vina. If she were anything like him, things that reminded her about having an eating disorder would spark that little something in her brain that told her not to eat-or in his case, to be more obsessive and compulsive. The announcement at the beginning of tour to all of the bands about his condition had sent him into overdrive. He was being exceptionally picky. Little things were bothering him that he had been able to ignore before.
Sighing, Wyatt stood from his position on the couch. He gingerly walked to his bunk to place his notebook neatly under his pillow; pausing to fix a crease in Adele's curtain on his way back to the lounge.
He didn't bother leaving a note-a first for him, and he left the bus. He didn't get far before he spotted another figure sitting outside. He was tall, dark and handsome; everything that fairytales had taught Wyatt to fall in love with. He walked up to the man sitting under a tent and sat down in the lawn chair beside him. He could feel the older man's eyes on him as he sat, and Wyatt counted to four before he turned to look at him. “Good morning,” he grinned.
Jack smiled softly from his seat, he let out a yawn and rubbed at his eyes before he answered, “morning.”
“What are you doing awake?” Wyatt asked softly, leaning over and gently moving the hair out of Jack's eyes. He suddenly thought better of the action after he had done it, and he felt his face get hot.
“I was thinking,” Jack explained.
“About what?” Wyatt prompted.
“Umm...,” Jack trailed off. He had been thinking about a lot. About the benefit show that day, about the day before when Alex called him out on his crush on Wyatt. About Alex. About Wyatt. There was something about Wyatt that made Jack feel wanted-needed. Wyatt needed him. Wyatt didn't know it, in fact, the rest of Wyatt's band would probably protest the need. But Wyatt needed him because everyone else wasn't helping Wyatt get better. Everyone else was catering to Wyatt's actions when what he needed was someone to stop him from doing them. He needed help.
Wyatt tilted his head, giving Jack a questioning look.
“You,” Jack finally stated. “I was thinking of you.”
“What about me?” Wyatt's heart beat picked up. Jack was probably thinking horrible thoughts about him.
“I was thinking that you need me,” Jack explained. “Your band is amazing. They know how you work, and they make sure that you don't have the added panic attack at seeing their dirty underwear on the ground. But I think what you need is to see that dirty underwear. You have to get used to it. It has to become normal so that you can become normal. Not that you're unordinary. But you have something...something that hinders your day to day life. And I think that you need help to get over it, not help at keeping things organized and clean to calm your brain. You need help to see things that are disorganized and dirty.”
During the speech Wyatt had slowly started backing away from Jack. Jack ran his hand over his face and through his hair and sighed. “Please don't look at me like you're horrified,” Jack said.
“I-I'm...I'm not...?” Wyatt supplied.
“Yes. You're scared. And, I mean, you should be. I'm telling you that I'm going to be forcing you to face your fears. And that's fucking scary. But what I'm also saying is that I'm going to help you through it. So it's going to be fucking scary, but I'm going to be right there with you helping you through it...okay?” Jack felt calm and relaxed. He regularly felt that way around Wyatt, especially in the wee hours of the morning. “So?” Jack asked. “You up for it?”
Wyatt opened his mouth, ready to reject the idea completely. He was ready to tell Jack that he was completely mental, that he couldn't just cure him like that. He let out a strangled sound and then, “okay.”
It shocked them both. The tiny, terrified sound that came out of his mouth. Jack leaned closer to him, raising an eyebrow, then a full-blown grin escaped onto his face. “Really?! Oh man! So excited! Baby steps though...baby steps...huh. How do you feel about starting with your food? We can try eating things randomly. You don't necessarily have to eat all of one side dish before you can move onto another.”
“You noticed that I do that?” Wyatt whispered.
Jack grinned, “I notice everything about you.”
***
All Time Low and Hyperinflated Illuminations walked into a cold, stone building several hours later. Both bands looked inexplicably tired as they trudged in. The only two that looked relatively awake and stood in acceptable clothing were Wyatt and Jack. They both held a cup of steaming liquid and were talking animatedly about what was planned for the day.
“Matt said there'd be an interview, at least with you guys, since you're affiliated with the organization and we aren't really. I was talking to Alex about getting in with all of the organizations you guys work with while on tour. We already work with To Write Love On Her Arms, so we're partway there,” he grinned at the younger boy.
“Yeah? That's such a good plan. I mean, we give these organizations a bit of recognition because we are a fairly big band, but we're not mainstream. We have a smalltime label and a large fan base. But you guys could help NEDA and IOCDF even more recognition, which would be awesome!” Wyatt grinned.
“You're really into this whole thing. You're not in a band to make money, you're in it to help people,” Jack pointed out.
“Well, yes and no. I'm in a band because I like music. I'm in a band that has a label and is well known to help people, to help amazing organizations to gain recognition. I don't use the money. I don't need the money. I do it because I want to help, and doing something I enjoy that helps people is an added benefit,” Wyatt explained.
“On one of your first sound checks, did I hear someone say that you play all of the instruments?” Jack asked.
“Yeah, I play a whole bunch of instruments. I like to learn things, you know? Things that are consistent. They can't be changed. My only issue is that sometimes the smallest thing will make me continuously play the same riff over and over again. Like if I almost play the wrong note, I'm re-playing the whole area over and over again,” Wyatt sighed, then took a sip of his tea.
He looked around at the rest of the people in the lobby just as a well dressed woman stepped out of an office. She looked around at the groggy group, spotted him and made a bee-line for him.
“Wyatt Daniels?” she asked, holding out her hand for him to shake.
He stood up straighter, took a breath to prepare himself for the physical action, and clasped his hand with hers. “You must be Whitney Shields?” he asked.
“Yes! I understand that you set up an interview with you and the company to be aired online?” she asked.
“Yep. That's why we're here. All of the proceeds from the show tonight will be directly benefiting your cause and I feel like people need to know what you do and who we are and why we're involved. Dubs, our manager will help conduct this interview. Jim, our bus driver is going to stay back and edit it with one of your employees in the promotional department and get it up online,” Wyatt explained.
“Excellent. How about we set you guys up in the lounge?”
♠ ♠ ♠Whitney Shields is a fictional character. She does not run NEDA.
Author: Sunny
Pairing: Jack Barakat/ OC
Rating: NC-17
Summary: “Yes. You're scared. And, I mean, you should be. I'm telling you that I'm going to be forcing you to face your fears. And that's fucking scary. But what I'm also saying is that I'm going to help you through it. So it's going to be fucking scary, but I'm going to be right there with you helping you through it...okay?” Jack felt calm and relaxed. He regularly felt that way around Wyatt, especially in the wee hours of the morning. “So?” Jack asked. “You up for it?”
Disclaimer: I don't own Jack, Alex, or anyone in the lovely band and crew that make up All Time Low. They all own each other. Sunny and I do own all members of Hyperinflated Illuminations. Thank you.
Warnings: Obsessive compulsive disorder, eating disorders, alcoholism
http://turnthepageover.livejournal.com/57389.html
Wyatt was feeling restless. They had arrived at their next venue the night before so Jim got to sleep that night. But Wyatt didn't. While everyone else was sleeping in their bunks, Wyatt sat in the front room with the television's volume on low and his notebook on his lap. This wasn't a time he was able to write lyrics or compose music, but his notebook was somewhat of a security blanket to him. And he needed that notebook at that moment because, not only did he feel restless, but there was a feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was just going to go wrong. Of course, in Wyatt's world, everything went wrong all the time. The cushion could be in the wrong spot, someone may have unwound the cord to his phone charger and left it tangled and loose, or someone could have put the toilet paper on the dispenser wrong.
It was the day of their first benefit concert. It had to do with NEDA-The National Eating Disorder's Association and he was nervous about Vina. If she were anything like him, things that reminded her about having an eating disorder would spark that little something in her brain that told her not to eat-or in his case, to be more obsessive and compulsive. The announcement at the beginning of tour to all of the bands about his condition had sent him into overdrive. He was being exceptionally picky. Little things were bothering him that he had been able to ignore before.
Sighing, Wyatt stood from his position on the couch. He gingerly walked to his bunk to place his notebook neatly under his pillow; pausing to fix a crease in Adele's curtain on his way back to the lounge.
He didn't bother leaving a note-a first for him, and he left the bus. He didn't get far before he spotted another figure sitting outside. He was tall, dark and handsome; everything that fairytales had taught Wyatt to fall in love with. He walked up to the man sitting under a tent and sat down in the lawn chair beside him. He could feel the older man's eyes on him as he sat, and Wyatt counted to four before he turned to look at him. “Good morning,” he grinned.
Jack smiled softly from his seat, he let out a yawn and rubbed at his eyes before he answered, “morning.”
“What are you doing awake?” Wyatt asked softly, leaning over and gently moving the hair out of Jack's eyes. He suddenly thought better of the action after he had done it, and he felt his face get hot.
“I was thinking,” Jack explained.
“About what?” Wyatt prompted.
“Umm...,” Jack trailed off. He had been thinking about a lot. About the benefit show that day, about the day before when Alex called him out on his crush on Wyatt. About Alex. About Wyatt. There was something about Wyatt that made Jack feel wanted-needed. Wyatt needed him. Wyatt didn't know it, in fact, the rest of Wyatt's band would probably protest the need. But Wyatt needed him because everyone else wasn't helping Wyatt get better. Everyone else was catering to Wyatt's actions when what he needed was someone to stop him from doing them. He needed help.
Wyatt tilted his head, giving Jack a questioning look.
“You,” Jack finally stated. “I was thinking of you.”
“What about me?” Wyatt's heart beat picked up. Jack was probably thinking horrible thoughts about him.
“I was thinking that you need me,” Jack explained. “Your band is amazing. They know how you work, and they make sure that you don't have the added panic attack at seeing their dirty underwear on the ground. But I think what you need is to see that dirty underwear. You have to get used to it. It has to become normal so that you can become normal. Not that you're unordinary. But you have something...something that hinders your day to day life. And I think that you need help to get over it, not help at keeping things organized and clean to calm your brain. You need help to see things that are disorganized and dirty.”
During the speech Wyatt had slowly started backing away from Jack. Jack ran his hand over his face and through his hair and sighed. “Please don't look at me like you're horrified,” Jack said.
“I-I'm...I'm not...?” Wyatt supplied.
“Yes. You're scared. And, I mean, you should be. I'm telling you that I'm going to be forcing you to face your fears. And that's fucking scary. But what I'm also saying is that I'm going to help you through it. So it's going to be fucking scary, but I'm going to be right there with you helping you through it...okay?” Jack felt calm and relaxed. He regularly felt that way around Wyatt, especially in the wee hours of the morning. “So?” Jack asked. “You up for it?”
Wyatt opened his mouth, ready to reject the idea completely. He was ready to tell Jack that he was completely mental, that he couldn't just cure him like that. He let out a strangled sound and then, “okay.”
It shocked them both. The tiny, terrified sound that came out of his mouth. Jack leaned closer to him, raising an eyebrow, then a full-blown grin escaped onto his face. “Really?! Oh man! So excited! Baby steps though...baby steps...huh. How do you feel about starting with your food? We can try eating things randomly. You don't necessarily have to eat all of one side dish before you can move onto another.”
“You noticed that I do that?” Wyatt whispered.
Jack grinned, “I notice everything about you.”
***
All Time Low and Hyperinflated Illuminations walked into a cold, stone building several hours later. Both bands looked inexplicably tired as they trudged in. The only two that looked relatively awake and stood in acceptable clothing were Wyatt and Jack. They both held a cup of steaming liquid and were talking animatedly about what was planned for the day.
“Matt said there'd be an interview, at least with you guys, since you're affiliated with the organization and we aren't really. I was talking to Alex about getting in with all of the organizations you guys work with while on tour. We already work with To Write Love On Her Arms, so we're partway there,” he grinned at the younger boy.
“Yeah? That's such a good plan. I mean, we give these organizations a bit of recognition because we are a fairly big band, but we're not mainstream. We have a smalltime label and a large fan base. But you guys could help NEDA and IOCDF even more recognition, which would be awesome!” Wyatt grinned.
“You're really into this whole thing. You're not in a band to make money, you're in it to help people,” Jack pointed out.
“Well, yes and no. I'm in a band because I like music. I'm in a band that has a label and is well known to help people, to help amazing organizations to gain recognition. I don't use the money. I don't need the money. I do it because I want to help, and doing something I enjoy that helps people is an added benefit,” Wyatt explained.
“On one of your first sound checks, did I hear someone say that you play all of the instruments?” Jack asked.
“Yeah, I play a whole bunch of instruments. I like to learn things, you know? Things that are consistent. They can't be changed. My only issue is that sometimes the smallest thing will make me continuously play the same riff over and over again. Like if I almost play the wrong note, I'm re-playing the whole area over and over again,” Wyatt sighed, then took a sip of his tea.
He looked around at the rest of the people in the lobby just as a well dressed woman stepped out of an office. She looked around at the groggy group, spotted him and made a bee-line for him.
“Wyatt Daniels?” she asked, holding out her hand for him to shake.
He stood up straighter, took a breath to prepare himself for the physical action, and clasped his hand with hers. “You must be Whitney Shields?” he asked.
“Yes! I understand that you set up an interview with you and the company to be aired online?” she asked.
“Yep. That's why we're here. All of the proceeds from the show tonight will be directly benefiting your cause and I feel like people need to know what you do and who we are and why we're involved. Dubs, our manager will help conduct this interview. Jim, our bus driver is going to stay back and edit it with one of your employees in the promotional department and get it up online,” Wyatt explained.
“Excellent. How about we set you guys up in the lounge?”
♠ ♠ ♠Whitney Shields is a fictional character. She does not run NEDA.