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"Jack?"
As I wandered into our flat, I called out for him. Normally he would be there to greet me but I was early and he was probably busy. I just hoped that I hadn't interrupted him and collapsed on the sofa. I had been working at the Grump space all day so I was exhausted. All I needed was him but if he was busy, of course, I would wait. I was sure that he would have heard the door shut and my call and with no reply I just assumed he would be working. That was until I heard the bang.
Suspicious, I stood up from the sofa and softly made my way up the stairs. My heart began racing. What if he was hurt? What if someone had broken in and I just hadn't even realised? In an instant I burst through the door to see Jack burst towards the bathroom which was in the opposite direction as me and a lamp on the floor.
"Jack? What's wrong?"
I managed to stop him from fleeing the room. He just sort of halted, still facing away from me. What was he hiding?
"Hi Mark," he said, his voice cracking and his body still turned away from me. "Is there any chance you could let me be alone for a bit? You're not even meant to be home this early," he said sniffing. Had he been crying?
"I'm not leaving you unless I know you're okay because right now I'm really not sure. Jack, what's wrong? And don't give me that nothing bullshit," I said, knowing he would try to lie even though he knew I would see through it.
He took a sharp breath, realising I was too determined to give up. Exhaling, he turned around to show me something that made my whole body sink.
His eyes were filled to the brim with tears, his green hair stuck to his forehead. His shirt was un-ironed and crinkled with his whole body slumped and head hanging low. The smile I had grown to adore was no where to be seen and his lip was trembling slightly. He looked broken and it nearly tore me half.
"Okay. I'm feeling pretty shit. I'm a mess. I'm a torn piece of paper no one wants anymore. I'm not worth anything I have. My friends care so much about me and I don't even understand why. There's so much wrong with me. I'm loud and annoying, my laugh is horrible, as hard as I try I never look decent enough. My hair looks ridiculous. My figure is awful no matter what I do. What makes it worse is that I have you. Mark, you are so perfect in every way and I have no idea why you're still here. I don't deserve you at all and that's why I really didn't want you to see me like this," he said, using his sleeve to dry his tear stained face.
"You never come home early. Why today?" he said, though mostly to himself than me. All the words just brought me down. That he could feel so much hatred about himself so unnecessarily. The fact that someone that I held so dear to me, that I had always thought as the happiest person, turned out to be someone so self-loathing and lonely.
"You see? How on earth do you deserve someone like me when all I do is make you cry and worry?" he said, wiping my cheek with my thumb. I hadn't even realised the tears rolling down my cheeks. My tears only seemed to set Jack off even more though as he began to wipe his own face more and more frequently.
"Jack, Jack, Jack," I whispered. I had so many questions: Why hadn't he confided in me? Why did he suddenly feel like this? How long had he felt like this without me noticing?
"What? I can't help feeling this way. It just kind of happens," he said, his voice trembling as it picked up.
"How long have you felt this way?"
"...about 6 months,"
6 months?! How bad of a person was I, that I couldn't even tell he had been doing this for that long? I thought he was fine, I had thought we were fine.
"Why didn't you talk to me about this sooner? Why did I have to catch you to even know this was happening?"
"It's mostly when I'm lonely, okay? I- I didn't want to tell you because I know how much of a worry-guts you are and I didn't want to be another burden for you."
"Jack you'd never be a burden. You have to let me care for you, just like I let you care for me. We are meant to tell each other our doubts, our worries, our whole lives are meant to be shared."
"It's not that easy though, is it!? Fuck, I wish it was Mark but it's really not that fucking perfect. I doubt myself how I feel so much that I can convince myself that I'm making it all up and that I'm just a fucking drama queen and I'm just begging for attention and you wanted me to tell you that?"
I don't know why out of everything he said, that hurt the most. I just ended up standing there, my mouth gaping open. It had never struck me when I had entered this room 10 minutes ago that this would have happened. I still felt the shock from first seeing him in such a state. All I wanted was for him to realise what he meant to me.
"Jack you are so beautiful to me. Your eyes are as pretty as an ocean and your hair is my favourite colour. Your figure is completely fine the way it is and I love that you're loud because it's part of who you are. Your laugh makes me happy every time I hear it and brightens up my day. You give the best hugs on earth and you are the only person that can comfort me when I need it most. I'm still here because I need to be. Because, without you, I would be nothing. You know me better than I do and I love you so much I can't even comprehend it. If anything, I don't deserve you! I came home early today because I wanted to spend time with you rather than working for once. Please don't ever feel less than fucking perfect, because that's what you are to me," I said in between our sniffles and sobbing.
Subtly, I took his hand and slowly dragged him towards the bed. Together, we lay down and I wrapped my arms around him. He told me once that his biggest comfort was simply being in my arms and I hoped that that would stay true to this moment.
As the shouting had now stopped, the room was silent. Finally, there was peace.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"You're welcome. I love you," I said, waiting for him to say it back as always. Hearing nothing, I moved slightly so I could see his face.
Calm. Still. Tranquil. Asleep.