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John sat at his desk, his hands on his head.
It was one in the morning. John had been working nonstop for three days and always stressed himself out during his daughter's birthday week.
His curly hair was slightly messier than usual, and his button-up shirt was stained from a recent coffee spill. He still smoked the same cigarette he always did, and his ashtray was full of used-up cigarettes. His desk was messy and stacked with paperwork.
Jack pushed through the house's front door, hugging a container and jug of liquid to his chest. "John! I'm home!" He looked into the house, his eyes landing on the mess building in the living room.
They don't live together yet, but Jack always goes to John's house. He is aware of John's daughter and wife, his past, and how John mourns over them. So, in his attempt to be the best partner, professionally and romantically, he will be there for John during those hard times.
"John!" He called again, walking over to the coffee table and setting the container and jug down. He leaned to the side slightly, peering down the dark hallway.
A door in the hallway opened, and John walked out, head low. "I'm here," he responded, his voice low and raspy—not in a sick way, in his normal raspy voice. John knew Jack would come over eventually. It was always embarrassing to get caught looking like this, like a mess, but Jack knew him. He understood.
Jack sighs, watching John walk into the living room. "Jesus, you look like crap." He remarks. "How are you holding up?"
John didn't respond.
Jack waited patiently, giving John the space he needed. After a moment, he reached out and placed a reassuring hand on John's shoulder. "Well, Patty made you some lemon bars, and I brought homemade tea. I figured you needed a break."
John furrowed his eyebrows slightly before finally looking up at Jack. He usually had eye bags, but it was apparent the dark circles under his eyes had grown deeper.
"I'm doing fine, Jack." John sighed. But a break would be nice." He didn't smile, but his voice gave a thankful hint. He moved his hand up, patting Jack's hand, but pushed away the affection and walked to the living room. "Sorry for the mess. I didn't have time to clean."
Jack shrugged. "It's alright—I understand, " he said as he followed John.
John sat on the couch while Jack walked past him, heading for the kitchen. Moments later, he returned with two small glasses.
"So, how are you holding up with, ya know?" Jack asked, pouring John a cup of tea. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it."
John watched Jack brushing his fingers through his hair. "I said I'm fine, Jack." He spoke with a slightly harsher tone.
He wasn't doing fine at all. He couldn't remember the last time he took a shower. He couldn't remember if he had even eaten yet that day. His grief was consuming him, making it hard to perform even the most basic self-care tasks.
Jack looked at John with a worrisome face. "You don't look fine, John," Jack said, offering the cup to John. "I haven't heard from you in four days, and no one has seen you leave your house."
John took the cup, staring at the brown beverage.
"And you know I hate it when you don't take care of yourself like this- have you eaten today even?" Jack finally started to ramble, but it was clear he did it because he cared.
John was quiet. He stared at the table. Tears slightly welled between his eyelashes, his nose turning pink, but he played it off. He looked away, his hand moving up and wiping his eye like nothing was wrong.
"It's hard, Jack, " he said finally. It's just hard. And it's embarrassing. If I leave the house, someone always asks about her," he said, bringing his hand to his mouth and rubbing his mustache.
Jack went quiet, looking at John. He listened, getting slightly closer to put his hand on John's shoulder. "I know," he says. I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm sorry—I know it hurts right now—but wouldn't she be upset if she saw you like this?" Jack asks, his hand moving up slightly to hold John's cheek.
John stared at Jack. His expression morphed into a saddened look, and he sighed. He leaned into Jack's hand, reaching up to hold it against his cheek. "You're right. She wouldn't want me to be a mess. She would tell me messes are for losers." He managed a slight smile, his voice cracking as he chuckled.
Jack laughed and nodded. "She would," Jack said, giving him a genuine smile.
John laughed more, his hand moving up and wiping his eyes again. "Oh, geez, Jack, you got me all teary-eyed." He moved away from Jack's hand, wiping his eyes.
Jack leaned forward and gently kissed John's forehead.
John pulled back, catching Jack's lips before he could pull away. Jack's hands found John's cheeks again, gently cupping his face before leaning back.
"Well," John sighed again. "I think I owe you a shower."
Jack laughed slightly. "I think you owe yourself a shower."
"Would you take a shower with me?" He asked. "Unless you have to go back to work, "
Jack glanced at his watch, biting his bottom lip. "I've got an hour before the mayor makes another phone call." He looked back at John. "Let's go get you washed up."
John smiled and took his hand, standing. "Thanks."