Chapter Text
It's not like he doesn't care, he does but sometimes it's just hard. Ezekiel Jones is not weak, alright.
Ezekiel never got tired. The mission could be hours and he'd still have energy but something was off. It was like a flame that was getting soaked with a water gun. His energy seemed to be seeping out of the seams.
"Jones, you cannot drink energy drinks all day," Baird said as she walked past the younger boy who was sitting on a stool with a laptop opened, "when's the last time you had a real meal?"
Ezekial knew she was only joking but now that he thought about it when was the last time that he ate something that didn't come from a chip bag? Today was Friday, the 12th. He must've had dinner last night, right? But he didn't. He forgot. He stayed at the annex overnight to do extra work for the case that they were working on. He thought he had lunch but everyone went out without him. Cassandra insisted that he came along but he refused because there was too much work to be done. He didn't want to be overwhelmed. Cassandra brought him a slice of pizza from the plaza that they went to but he forgot about it. The cold pizza was left on the table for hours so he was forced to throw it away. It was cluttering his workspace anyway.
For once he felt good. Accomplished, proud, content. Stone, Flynn, pretty much everyone he works with says that he "slacks off" and that he's "lazy". Was he doing this to prove them wrong? To make a point just to validate himself? He didn't think so. He was finally growing up. Being mature and less self-centered. Taking responsibility for his actions would be how Baird would phrase it.
"I dunno," Ezekial said, his voice monotone, "we ate at that diner in that small town in Oregon. It was nice, we should go again or somethin'."
Baird's face grew with concern.
"Ezekial," she whispered, "we went there Monday."
Ezekial took a short pause from his typing to look up at the older woman. "Oh," He breathed out. He didn't know what else to say. Was it that long?
"Jones, you've been working yourself too much. Take a break and go eat something. I'm starting to worry about you."
He knew work wasn't the problem. He loved this job! Living a fantasy, fighting dragons, seeing magic in real life, who wouldn't want this job? He felt like this before. The same empty, draining, numb feeling was familiar to him but he thought he was better.
Was it really getting bad again? It has been four days since his last real meal, five days since he got a good night's sleep, and a whole month since he felt alive. Spending his nights wondering why he was still awake, wondering why food felt so wrong despite him always having a slice of pizza. Everything felt wrong. Maybe he was unworthy. Unworthy of what? Food? Sleep? Friends? Family? Then it hit him…. Happiness.
"You know, Baird, maybe I'm a little less okay than I thought I was…"