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Jackson gripped the porcelain walls of the sink, getting his teeth harshly as he squeezed his eyes shut, doing his absolute best to ignore the pounding in his head.
This had to have been the worst timing: stuck at a party with everyone at Exers house, which Jackson had desperately tried to get out of but was forced to come along anyway. Not of obligation, just Ken’s insistence to have him come with.
It had already been several minutes of Jackson hiding in the bathroom, trying to block out the pounding of his head and loud music that leaked in from the cracks underneath the doors. It was hard to ignore, especially with everyone either singing or trying to talk over the music.
Jackson tried to focus more on the cold walls of the sink, the temperature in the room, his comfortably large wool sweater, or anything other than the pounding in his head and the pressure in his chest. It was overwhelming, almost as if somebody was stepping down onto his chest and holding him in place.
No matter what he did, the feeling was consistent. Sometimes it was more of a dull ache; other times, like this, it was much more intense.
Tiredly, Jackson lifted his head to look at his reflection, wincing at just how terrible he looked. Paler than before with rosy cheeks, his eyebrows pinched together in pain, and his clothes clinging to him grossly from sweating so hard.
Honestly, he hadn’t thought it would be this bad. After he had begun refusing to write in his diary, the headaches had started but were typically not this bad unless prompted. It wasn’t as if Jackson had been at the party for ages; he had only gotten to Exer’s twenty minutes ago. Truthfully, he could barely blame anybody for checking in on him considering how long he’s been gone.
Jackson groaned as he realized he needed to leave soon, or else everyone would start to worry and knock down the door, out of love, of course.
It would’ve been an abnormal and drastic measure to take, but as of recently, Jackson could see that everybody was worrying more about him. He could barely get a day before somebody brought him up to attend therapy again, or everyone kept a constant watch to see if he was sleeping and eating.
At first, it was funny to watch everybody try not to be obvious about it, but soon Jackson felt like he couldn’t even be alone without someone breathing down his neck. He loved his friends, but the surveillance was starting to make him feel like a child.
Jackson lifted his hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose, tiredly stepping back and trying to make his way to the door, but a sudden pounding of his head had Jackson tumbling to grab onto the wall desperately, slowly slinking to the floor.
‘Shit!’ He thought frantically, sitting down on the clean tiled floor, his back now pressing against the bathtub's wall, while he tried to grab at it and pull himself up. It became evident quickly that it would not work. Every time he opened his eyes, the blinding overhead light had him struggling to see without feeling a wave of nausea.
Jackson couldn’t stop the frustrated tears that welled up in his eyes, his throat feeling uncomfortably tight as he tried not to cry at his situation. Cold, nauseous, sitting on the floor of the house of his ex-bully, the house of his ex-therapist, whom he could barely look into the eyes of.
‘God damnit,’ Jackson thought, pulling his knees up to his chest to wrap his arms around them and drop his head down. Nothing could get worse than this.
Then there was a knock at the door.
‘Of course, it can get worse,’ Jackson grumbled, forcing himself to look up and squint at the door. "Jackson, are you good?” Exer’s voice called from the other side, sounding more worried than Jackson had ever heard it before, at least directed towards him.
Jackson opened and closed his mouth for a few seconds, stumbling over the others' worries before he finally caught himself and said, “M’ fine.” He tried to say it loud enough for Exer to hear him, but the silence from the other side had Jackson doubting if Exer heard him.
“Do you want me to get someone, Pamela, Jolie, Ken, or Tim?” Exer questioned gently, surprising Jackson enough to sit up and wide-eyed stare at the door, but the assault of light in his eyes had Jackson groaning hard and leaning hard against the tub, hiding his face again as the pounding in his head grew.
By this point, Jackson was beginning to worry if it was the diary or if he was starting to get sick; it wouldn’t have been too shocking considering his stuffy nose in the morning.
“Shit, Jackson, I’m coming in!” Exer warned before opening the door, Jackson squeezing his eyes, embarrassed as he had forgotten to lock the door in his hase. The amount of noise from the main room had Jackson whining, curling more in on himself, though breathing a sigh of relief as Exer quickly shut the door behind him.
Unable to even look up, Jackson missed the worried look that Exer had, only able to hear as the other instantly dropped to his knees beside Jackson, “I’m going to feel your forehead, alright?” Exer said gently, watching as Jackson's face scrunched up at the volume.
Barely able to nod, Jackson ever so gently lifted his head up enough for Exer to slip a hand over his forehead, squinting his eyes as he heard Exer gasp, “You’re burning up!” He whispered, keeping his hand on Jackson's forehead as the coldness helped with his heated body temperature.
“Okay, okay. I-” Exer muttered to himself, apparently lost in thought about whatever he was trying to figure out. It didn't matter much to Jackson, considering the cold hand was helping immensely with the pounding of his head.
“Alright, come on, you’re going to rest.” Exer said, sounding determined in his decision as he snaked his arms around Jackson's middle, “I’m going to help lift you, okay?” He mumbled, sounding apologetic, as Exer luckily seemed to be conscious enough to know that Jackson was still iffy around the other.
Though Jackson had absolutely nobody else to ask for help, he nodded his head weakly and helped lift himself to his feet, gritting his teeth as the world swayed around him and blackened at the edges. “Don’t pass out; I got you!” Exer’s frantic voice came from beside him, the other taking the brunt of Jackson's dead weight.
Jackson opened his mouth to respond snarkily but found that he had absolutely zero strength to do so, already having felt like he pushed a boulder by simply standing, so he closed his mouth and hung his head as Exer shuffled them to the door.
“It’s going to get loud, but it’ll be over soon.” Exer gently said before swinging the odor open and trying to lead him as quickly as he could to wherever they were going. The onslaught of color and noise almost had Jackson keel over, his throat burning with acid as tears sprung into his eyes.
The walk was awfully short, with Jackson truthfully only focusing on not passing out or throwing up; either option would be way too embarrassing. It wasn’t even his house or anybody else's mess to clean but his own, but how useful could he be when he already felt on the brink?
A door suddenly opened before they shuffled into a room, the noise cutting off abruptly as the door shut behind him. “There we go, I got you.” Slowly, Exer then helped Jackson sit up on a bed before leaving to dim the lights enough. "Ah, than god.” Jackson sighed thankfully, opening his eyes more as he glanced around the room. It was obviously lived in, with clothes on the floor, posters decorating the walls, family photos on a board, and more.
“Is this yours?" Jackson was cut off by a sudden hoodie being thrust into his face, a dark burgundy-like color with a wool-like material. Even just by looking at it, Jackson knew it was comfortable.
Slowly, Jackson looked up to see Exer staring down at him, nervously chewing at his bottom lip as he looked away. “I get it; you don't have to take it, but I just thought—'' Jackson cut him off, slowly taking off the hoodie and pajama bottoms. They were obviously Exers, smaller in size but obviously looked much higher quality than what Jackson was used to.
“I’ll leave you to change; just call for me when you’re done.” Exer then turned and left, leaving Jackson to sit on his bed with the change of clothes hanging in his hand. Not wanting to waste much time, Jackson slowly shimmied out of his clothes, burning red out of embarrassment as he struggled to get the pajama pants on. Finally, though, he got himself changed, with his old clothes now in a pile beside the bed.
Taking a moment to look around, Jackson glanced around cautiously before his eyes landed on a large beige board with various photos tacked on; most were of Mr.Campbell and Exer; other than that, it was various photos of Exer and the Reds.
Though one thing caught Jackson's attention—a photo of himself staring away from the camera and grinning towards David and Ron at the arcade—it was a picture from before everything had happened. Which shocked him. Why would Exer take a picture of Jackson when he hated him?
There wasn’t time to ponder it before Exer knocked on the door. “Everything alright, you get stuck in the shirt?” He light-heartedly joked, failing to mask his worry for Jackson.
"Oh, I, yes!” Jackson yelped out, quickly looking away from the board and to his fiddling hands nervously, unsure of why Exer was allowing him to wear his clothes and be in his room.
Exer entered the room, closing it behind him as he grasped his spinning chair and pulled it towards the bedside. “You should rest,” he muttered, grasping at the fluffy black comforter and moving it upwards to cover more of Jackson, pausing after a second as he seemed flustered from embarrassment. “Shit! I'm sorry, that’s just something my dad would always do.” Exer apologized, letting go of the comforter and stepping back.
Jackson grasped the comforter, pulling it higher to his chest as he looked up to Exer. “It’s fine, really!” He insisted, wincing at how loud his own voice was in his head. Slowly, he adjusted himself to lay flat on the bed, not having expected just how comfortable it would be. It felt like lying on a bed of sheep wool, clouds, and all.
The mere seconds of being on it already had Jackson struggling not to sleep; it must’ve been obvious considering how Exer gently laughed and took a seat beside him. “Yeah, pretty comfy, right?” Jackson could barely respond to the random attack of tiredness, blinking his eyes up at Exer, who gently smiled, “It’s alright, sleep; I’ll be here in case.” He assured himself, watching as Jackson blinked far slower each time before his eyes finally shut and his breathing evened out, comfortable and snug like a bug.
And as Exer promised, he stayed all night.