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Everybody had off days, it was a fact of being. Sometimes off days meant going at work a little slower, and sometimes it meant struggling to get out of bed. Struggling to motivate to do anything, something so little as going to the restroom or eating food.
Jack found himself as someone who experienced the latter. He’d go weeks, months, perfectly fine. The occasional minor downswing in motivation that meant he needed to ask someone to hang out with him while he did the task, and nothing more.
And then it would all pile up, and he would wake up and just be unable to get up. No matter how many times he thought to himself to get up, to just start with rolling over. Wiggle his toes and fingers and motivate to stand and leave his bedroom, he just couldn’t.
He wanted to, he needed to, but he couldn’t. It felt like his limbs were filled with concrete, heavy as lead. He wasn’t tired enough to go back to sleep, leaving him in a state where he was laid in bed, staring out across the room at Merritt’s still sleeping form, eyes unfocused and mind wandering.
Jack still couldn’t bring himself to move by the time Merritt finally woke up. He stayed laying down, curled up beneath his comforter, even when Merritt shuffled out of bed and tugged on a shirt and some socks.
It was only when the hypnotist crossed the room toward his bed, his calloused hand finding Jack’s hair. Dull nails scraped across his scalp comfortingly, “Rise and shine, kid,” Merritt’s voice was gruff with sleep, but soft in the same moment. Jack relaxed into the touch, and even when it faded and he was left alone in the bedroom, it was finally a little easier to move.
It shouldn’t have taken him as long as it did to sit up and stand, blanket still wrapped tight around his shoulders. He spent several long, long minutes sitting up and staring at the ground, trying to find the rest of his motivation to stand.
When he finally managed to shuffle out to the kitchen, he was the last one there. Merritt was stood by the coffee machine, making quiet conversation with Henley, who was making pancakes and bacon at the stove nearby.
Danny sat in his usual spot at their rickety dining table, laptop in front of him. A half drank cup of coffee that was still steaming was off to the side, “Morning, Jack,” Henley greeted, voice gentle in the way it always was in the mornings when nobody was quite awake.
The sound of metal on metal filled the silence as she plated four servings of food, “Welcome to the land of the living,” Merritt tacked on. The machine behind him beeped in notice, the trickling sound of liquid finally stopping.
“Breakfast?” Henley prompted, setting the first plate beside Merritt. She slipped past Jack and out toward Danny to set the plate in her other hand beside his laptop, “Danny, take a break and eat. Or I’m taking your laptop.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Danny said without looking up, “I’ll eat. I just need to finish this first.”
“Don’t get distracted,” she pointed at him, like she was scolding a child. Jack cracked a smile, “Jack? Breakfast?” She repeated. He hummed, disinterested. His mouth dried up at the thought of food– no churning sensation of hunger warned him to eat, nor did the shakiness of low blood sugar. He couldn’t find it in himself to eat, even if he needed to.
He shook his head, instead shuffling past her toward the living room. Gentle touches passed between them, her hand on his shoulder, his arm brushing against her, all gone in a moment. He took his place on their secondhand loveseat, the worn springs squeaking beneath him.
It didn’t take long for Henley to join him, settling in at his feet with her own plate of food and a mug of tea placed on the coffee table in front of her. He curled his legs up, giving her room to lean back comfortably.
Merritt followed her, taking the open space on the loveseat. His plate was already partially polished off. He set it aside to grab the remote and turn on the tv, shifting through the few channels they had on cable.
“Sure you’re not hungry, Jack?” Henley asked over the low volume of the sports channel that came on by default. He shook his head.
“Not hungry,” he parroted, “Maybe later. Smells good.”
“Alright, later then,” she relented, sipping her presumably jasmine tea. Merritt changed the channel to a documentary of some sort, and started flipping through the settings in search of subtitles, “Rough day?”
“Just tired,” he managed to say after a moment. He let the words of the documentary in front of him wash through his ears, going mostly unprocessed. He heard Danny get up from his computer somewhere around twenty minutes into their relaxation. The distant sound of dishes being rinsed came from the kitchen. Soon after, he heard Danny’s bedroom door close.
He relaxed, stretched so he was laying mostly on his side with his legs in Merritt’s lap. His thick blanket covered the both of them, hanging off the couch just enough that Henley could wrap it around her shoulders.
By the time the documentary had ended, Jack’s hands had migrated out from beneath the blanket and into Henley’s hair, fidgeting with the soft orange strands in familiar, repetitive motions.
“Nothing else on today?” Henley commented. She sounded more awake now, contrary to Jack’s still somewhat asleep energy level. Merritt gave a world-weary sigh that felt much too dramatic for the situation.
“Nothing good, I’m afraid,” he hummed, once again flipping through the directory, “I miss Blockbuster.”
“You’re so old,” Jack mumbled into his blanket, “There’s a Family Video within walking distance.”
“It’s not the same, Jack,” Merritt let his hand fall into his lap, the unmuted ads playing in the corner of the screen, “Family Video will never be Blockbuster.”
“You’re more of a drama queen than Danny, sometime,” Henley joked, “We have DVDs, you know.”
“Yeah, like five,” Jack scoffed.
“If you make me watch the Titanic one more time, Henley, I’m quitting.”
“We have other DVDs!”
“All our other DVDs are Danny’s favorites.” Jack let the small braid he’d finished fall against her back, joining the four others he’d mindlessly shaped. He grabbed another bunch of hair and started twisting it, “I think I’d rather sit in silence.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” their escapist chuckled.
“Now, Henley, don’t underestimate our dear Jack,” Merritt tutted, “He could sit in silence for a whole five minutes, I believe in him.”
“Asshole,” Jack kicked at the hypnotist, laughing. The braid in his hands came partially undone and he swore, grabbing at the threads and trying to remember which order he’d been in, “Henley, your hair is bullying me.”
“You’re bullying my hair,” Henley corrected, a smile obvious in her voice, “Twisting it around so much.”
The ads ended, and another documentary started up. Merritt put it back to full screen, “Oh, somebody get Daniel,” he gestured, “He’d love this one.”
“I’ll get him. Jack?”
“Hang on, almost done,” Jack bit his tongue, squinting in focus. The hair he had left to work with was miniscule, but he wanted to make sure the end was tight enough to withstand her moving around, “Done.”
“Thank you, honey,” she ran a hand along his, standing from the floor. Her knees popped with the motion, “Gosh, I’m getting old. Anybody need anything while I’m up? Jack, your breakfast is still out there.”
“Ooh,” Jack hummed. He still wasn’t hungry, exactly, but the mention of food made him realize what the subtle jittery feeling he’d been having for a while was. That underlying shaky-dizziness was low blood sugar, “I guess, yeah. I should eat.”
“Another coffee?” Merritt held out his coffee mug.
“No, you and Danny drink too much of that stuff. I’ll get you a tea.”
“You’re such a fun ruiner, mother-Hen.”
Henley laughed, disappearing toward the hall to grab Danny from their bedroom. Merritt turned the volume down on the TV and shifted so he was more comfortable, “You feelin’ any better, kid?”
Jack hummed. The short answer was, “Yeah, I guess.” And that was much easier to say that better, but still like shit. Easier than I don’t want to eat because it makes my stomach churn, and I don’t want to get up because it makes my chest squeeze with anxiety.
Easier than everything feels like it takes too much effort, but you make it easier.
“Good. That’s good, glad to hear it,” Merritt patted his leg, nodding, “You know, one of these days I’m gonna tickle you when you decide to use me as a foot rest. Won’t be too happy then, would you?”
Jack snorted, “Yeah, neither would you, man. I kick when I get tickled.”
“You kick when getting tickled?”
“It’s all, like, overstimulating or some shit. Makes me panic response,” he shimmied his legs for effect, “You wanna find out?”
“No. We’re having a lazy day, one that doesn’t involve any kicking.”
“Boo.” Henley appeared behind them. Both Merritt and Jack startled, whirling around to see her standing behind the couch with an amused expression, “Food service, Jack,” she handed off a plate. He made a face against his will as the greasy, reheated smell of breakfast food hit his nose.
Suddenly that absence of appetite became the complete lack of interest in eating. His mouth dried up and his stomach protested. The thought of putting any of it in his mouth made him want to gag, “Wish I had a grilled cheese,” he said, settling back into the couch with the plate on his lap. He’d eat it, he’d feel better for it. He just had to… motivate.
“Good luck getting one,” Danny piped up, appearing from the hallway with his laptop closed under his arm and his empty coffee mug in hand, “Merritt used the last of the cheese last night. And– and then he forgot to add it to the list.”
“Merritt,” Jack whined, “How could you?”
“Sorry, kid. Just couldn’t let you have that grilled cheese, you’d be too powerful, I fear.”
“Oh, yeah, that’d be the tipping point,” Henley smirked, rounding the couch to retake her position at Jack’s feet. She set the mug of tea she made for Merritt down on the end table as she passed, “A grilled cheese would make Jack Wilder an all-powerful entity.”
“It’s true, that’s why I want one,” Jack nodded sagely, hands slipping back into Henley’s hair absently, “To take over the world.”
“You three are– are ridiculous,” Danny said fondly, returning from setting his mug in the sink, “Move, move,” he waved his hands about, coming to a stop in front of the couch.
Jack pulled his legs back, holding his plate up high so it wouldn’t get knocked, “Everybody make way for the great J. Daniel Atlas, he wishes to sit amongst us plebians!”
“We would never dare get in the way of the amazing J. Daniel Atlas,” Merritt drawled, squeezing himself against the armrest. Danny slotted in between them perfectly, lifting his laptop up so Jack could lay his legs down to be used as a table.
“What’re we watching?” Danny asked, pointedly ignoring them. “A documentary? Have I seen this one?”
“How should we know?” Henley scoffed, “I feel like you’ve seen every documentary out there at this point.”
“Something about Great Horned Owls or… somethin’,” Jack waved his hand dismissively, focusing on pulling apart the bacon on his plate instead of eating it. He would much rather be creating not-so-intricate braids than focusing on food.
“Oh.” Danny perked up, distracted from logging into his computer in an instant, “Not my favorite species, but they’re– they’re good. They’re one of the largest species of owls, only topped by four others including the Eagle Owl,” he said, sounding like a textbook.
“Really?” Merritt prompted, “They look damn big on camera,” he gestured with his mug toward the TV, where the documentary was showing a Great Horned Owl beside a person, “Wouldn’t want to see that thing at night.”
“Not necessarily, they’re not usually hostile to humans,” Danny finally looked back down to his computer. Jack could see him reopening tabs, and creating a split screen between what looked to be two text documents. There were more tabs open on both browsers than he could count, “Though they might mistake your hat for prey.”
“That’d be a damn shame,” Jack tutted around the sour taste of greasy bacon, “What would Merritt be without his hat? Just another bald man.”
“All my powers are stored in the hat,” Merritt agreed, putting on a sad expression, “It would be a shame to lose it. I’ll have to steer clear of owls.”
Danny hummed. Jack and Merritt took the hint– he was now engrossed in his work again, unlikely to continue spouting animal facts at them. Henley below him pulled out the adult coloring books and colored pencils she stashed between the couch and the end table, occupying herself. The four of them settled into a comfortable quiet.
Jack managed to eat half of his plate before the nausea got too much, the sensations of eating too uncomfortable. Henley took the plate from him to set on the coffee table when he handed it down to her, not glancing up from her coloring.
His hands found their way back into her hair. The documentary was boring, but with his hands being stimulated by meticulously running strands between his fingers he was content without more to do. It only took them half an hour for Merritt to start talking, and then they were all talking over the film.
Their lazy day stayed on track, the remaining hours of the day filled with lounging in the living room. Henley managed to wrestle Danny’s laptop from him at some point so she could settle into the couch on top of their laps, her head in Jack’s.
(“Danny, no more working,” Henley demanded, taking the laptop from Danny’s unexpecting hands, “We’re relaxing.”
“Henley!” Danny scowled, hands flexing like he was resisting the urge to fight for his device back, “I was working on something.”
“Too bad. I want to lay down. Jack, your legs?”
Jack groaned, but obediently pulled his legs back. She hummed in satisfaction, and crawled atop the three of them, “We need a bigger couch,” Merritt grunted, supporting her to try and keep her from falling back to the floor while she shuffled around.
“Do you want to carry a three-hundred pound couch up four flights of stairs and through our doorway?” Danny asked rhetorically.
“This couch is fine,” Henley waved her hand dismissively, “We make it work.”)
They switched to a news channel after the documentary ended, and then shortly after Merritt spotted The Bachelor in the directory and put it on– much to Danny and Henley’s protests. Their conversations petered off throughout the episode, losing interest in mocking the characters.
Revenge played after, but by that point the horseman manning the remote had begun snoring, head tipped back over the back of the couch in a way that looked anything but comfortable. Jack had been yawning so much that his eyes were watering, and barely ten minutes into the new show he dozed off.
“Bed?” Henley murmured, shifting carefully off Jack. Danny hummed in agreement, “Don’t forget your laptop.”
“I won’t.”
Henley tucked Jack in under his blanket, the younger not even stirring. Her hair swung oddly with the twenty-some-odd small braids in it, “Hopefully he feels better tomorrow,” she commented quietly, following Danny toward the restroom, “It’s been a while since he’s had a day like this.”
Danny nodded, biting back a yawn, “Two months,” he reported, “The braiding seemed to help. A good distraction from his mindset.”
“Yeah. It usually does,” she nodded, “Here,” she handed over a pill bottle, grabbing her toothbrush in the process and stepping back for him to get to the sink, “It’s good to have something to do with your hands. You get that.”
Danny hummed noncommittally. They did their night routines in silence, working around one another with familiar motions. When they returned to the bedroom the two of them sat on the bed, Danny behind her with his legs crossed, hands meticulously undoing the many braids on her head.
“We’ll have to make sure he eats tomorrow,” the illusionist commented into the silence, “Did he finish his plate?”
“No. He didn’t brush his teeth or take his meds, either.”
“Tomorrow,” Danny confirmed, dull nails raking through the final braid, “I have some more work to do, but I’ll– I’ll be in to lay down soon. Okay?”
Henley frowned, running her own hand through her hair. It felt odd to feel the strands over bare skin like it always did when she finally took her gloves off at the end of the day, “Soon. Don’t stay up until three in the morning again, Danny. You’re miserable when you do.
“Yes, yes. Yes, I know, Henley,” he waved his hand, running his hands over the texture of his corduroy pants, “I won’t. Get some sleep, I’ll join you soon.”
She sighed, but let him slip off to the desk in the corner of their room. His dimmed laptop screen became the only source of light, the sound of keys tapping beneath quick fingers lulling her to sleep.
She only stirred two hours later– according to the clock on her nightstand– when two leanly muscled arms wrapped around her. Quiet voices spoke around the room, “Jack?” she murmured, recognizing the shape against her body. He hummed into her hair.
“Go back to sleep, Hen,” he spoke quietly. The sounds of Merritt and Danny arguing– about Danny still being awake, it sounded like– petered off soon after, the two of them crawling in around her and Jack.
Merritt wrapped her up from the left, Danny’s arm stretching over Jack to rest in the dip of her side. She sighed contentedly, felt everyone relaxed and happy around her.
They woke in the morning tangled together, comfortably having slept in long past the sun.
Bonus (from the first draft that didn't make it into this copy)
She gave him another understanding smile when she stood and stretched, eleven tiny braids along the side of her face, “They’re beautiful, Jack,” she complimented, even though he knew she couldn’t see them and they both knew they were messy and haphazardly done.
“Your best work yet, kid,” Merritt’s hand landed on his shoulder, causing the youngest horseman to jump. He hadn’t even noticed the eldest stand, “Think you could do mine next? I bet I’d look great with braids,” he grinned, running a hand over his smooth head.
Jack snorted, “We’ll get you a wig,” he joked, “Bring you back to your glory days.”
“Oh, yeah,” Merritt snorted, taking over Henley’s spot now that she’d left to use the restroom and likely check on Danny, “I bet I would’ve made even more money had I had your masterful work back then, huh? The ladies would’ve been falling all over me.”
“You would’ve been the hit of the town.”