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Jack doesn’t exactly know how he got here.
First thing he remembers (or the last time he spaced back in, it was one of those days) was being in a conversation with his lifelong friend, Racetrack, about some factory that had been long since abandoned.
Then, before he could process it, he was walking, flashlight in hand, into a dilapidated factory that really should have been torn down decades ago.
Light refracted in hues of gold, yellow, and soft white as it bounced off broken window panes and dirty reflective surfaces. Dust sprinkled the old concrete and used-to-be-white floors. Shadows covered corners of rooms and objects the further he stepped in.
If he was being honest, which he probably wasn’t, the factory could have been a nice place to be at.
If it hadn’t been that a generator had exploded a long time ago, of course.
It was a headline in a newspaper, after all. And if anyone else knew about newspapers, it was good old Jack Kelly.
He stepped through another door, entering a long expanse of a hallway. The light had been left behind and the only thing illuminating the cracked and burnt walls was his slowly breaking flashlight.
The sound of his shoes hitting the floor echoed and bounced off each wall as he not-so-carefully trekked further in.
Why was he doing this again?
While most of the doors were closed, some would end up being slightly ajar. And because curiosity killed the cat, this cat had long since lost its nine lives.
The room he was by was filled to the brim with old papers and books, at least ones that survived.
He grabbed a large textbook that was discarded on the floor and blew off layers of dust.
Choking on his airborne mistake, he opened it up to see writing of construction and measurements.
Except not what he expected to be construction.
It wasn’t buildings, no, it was pages and pages of high-tech machines, most of which he hadn’t the skills to pronounce.
He put the book down and pulled out his phone, taking a picture of the room to send to Race later (if he remembered).
Exiting the room, he sighed.
He thought there would be more than this. Like in the movies. Where were the treasure maps? Or evidence of a cold-case’s answer? Or finding another person there?
It was so underwhelming. But still, he continued.
The beam of his flashlight traced its path along every inch of the building’s hallways. More empty rooms, more broken glass, more old footsteps–
Wait, footsteps?
He stopped in his place, staring down at the faint image of a pace in the piles of dust and grime.
Maybe he went in a circle?
He put his shoe up by it, but lo and behold, it didn’t match.
Shit, maybe this would be like a movie. Their could be a killer in here. This was his grave, wasn’t it? He should have learned not to listen to Race.
Calm down, he told himself. Not something to work yourself up on.
He pushed through his growing anxiety and moved quietly through the next eerie and dark hallway. This time, there were only two doors at the end.
One, on the left, was broken and hanging on a single hinge. The other was open, perfectly fine, and leading to a staircase.
The dust going down this hallway, though, seemed to be gone. Almost cleaned out entirely.
Boy, if he had any self control, he would have turned back by now.
He took a single step forward, but immediately back tracked at the sound of movement from the left room.
He froze in place and stood perfectly still, watching as a figure crossed from left to right, holding a box full of something sounding like glass.
Then they were gone.
Holy shit.
He had to go see, right? What was the worst that could happen?
His knees felt like they could shatter from the tensity, but he urged his legs to move and enter the leftside room.
Even more quiet than before, he avoided fallen wood and glass and hopped over anything that could make a sound.
This time, he was met with tons of books perfectly(ish) clean and organized in stacks. Paper and an obscene amount of pencils were littered from corner to corner.
Who was this person? Some researcher?
At least it wasn’t a murderer.
The walls had cracks and burn marks and there was a hole in the ground leading straight to the floor below. Wood beams and broken concrete were trashed below, but he glanced down to see the same person fly by.
Did his brain tell him to stop? Yes. Did he listen? No.
Turning on his heel, he leapt over the discarded scraps and entered the room opposite of it, gliding down the stairs flawlessly without making a peep.
Until he landed right on glass.
The deafening crack echoed through the dark and shadowed hallway. His heart leapt into his throat.
Jack took off through the darkness, mistakenly right towards where the person was. Ducking into a sideroom, he waited for his inevitable end.
His breath was ragged and shaky and his eyes were closed tight. Slowly, he opened them back up.
The walls seemed neater than every other one in the building and soft blue lights lined the corners of each wall. Wires, old and new, were filling boxes and overflowing onto the floor.
There was a coat draped over a discarded chair right beside him, and the large room had seemed fine.
But the room he had entered was the one with the person.
Holy fucking shit on a stick, he was deader than this building.
Though, the person seemed to have not noticed. They had headphones on?
Whatever God is above, he was sure it was a blessing from them.
He shouldn’t have stayed long, but he wanted to get a better look.
The figure sat in a chair, surrounded by glass beakers and burners. Water and test tubes inhabited the counters around them and their hands moved fast across the keyboard of a laptop.
They pushed off their feet and rode with their office chair to a separate counter, grabbing a notebook and rolling right back to the original position. They had propped their feet up and began to write clean words in the paper.
Then they glanced behind.
Oh, God, he’s done for.
The figure jumped up, headphones falling off, and pulled a gun from what seems like nowhere and aimed it square at his head.
“Who are you?” The figure questioned Jack forcefully. He was expecting a quick answer.
“Jack,” he replied hurriedly, pinned to the wall. “It’s Jack, please don’t shoot.”
The figure lowered the gun slightly, but still stood with a defensive structure.
“What are you doing here?” They pushed further, beginning to draw closer.
“Just exploring,” Jack managed to reply, his eyes flickering around to try and find something to protect himself with. There was a glass vile right beside him.
Quickly, he moved to reach it, but a shot rang out and hit the wall right beside him. He screamed and jumped to the side.
“Don’t touch that!” They told Jack off. “That’s a dermal corrosion agent, if you touch it, it could burn you.”
“It is?” Jack gasped in shock, his breaths growing quicker.
They laughed and let out a light smirk. “I’m just kidding, it’s just dye, diphenyl oxalate ester, and hydrogen peroxide.”
Jack didn’t seem to find this funny. Or understand anything they said for that matter.
“Chemiluminescence?” They elaborated. What was this guy saying?
They sighed. “It’s the shit inside a glow stick.”
“Oh,” he said. It seemed to be the only sound he could muster.
“Idiot,” they put the gun down to his side and walked toward Jack, grabbing the vile from beside him.
The following silence could kill.
“What’re ya doing down here all by your lonesome?” Jack tried to spark a conversation with the strange man.
“Working.” They said plainly.
“A smart guy, huh?” Jack cooed. A little flirt couldn’t hurt, right? They seemed his age.
“A flirt, huh?” The man retorted with a mocking tone.
Jack blew out a breath through his nose and started toward the man who had already sat down at his desk(?).
“You got a name?” Jack continued, leaning on the table.
The man pushed his notebook away from Jack’s elbow and replied, “David,” as simply as possible.
“Lovely name for a lovely face,” Jack smirked and took a better look at the other man, David.
His face was soft, and his straight brown hair was swept to the right. He had green eyes that seemed to change shades every time he moved in the lighting. His profile had a sharp jawline, soft lips, and a greek nose.
Honestly, Jack could stare at him forever had it not been that he was a stranger in the basement of a factory with a gun and dangerous chemicals.
If it wasn’t a known fact that Jack wasn’t smart, it is now. He was smart in different ways.
David had seemed to react, if only slightly, to the comment and turned away, busying himself with writing down some incomprehensible amount of notes on paper.
“So you’re workin’, but on what specifically?” Jack pried.
This had only seemed to annoy him. “Why do you ask so many questions?” He rolled his eyes.
“Just wanna know more about this interesting subject.” God, why did Jack say that? What did that even mean?
David had paused for a moment and looked Jack up and down like a predator sizing up its prey.
“I doubt you have the brain capacity to understand any of this, but I can dumb down what you almost ruined earlier.” David offered. "Besides, it didn't matter much anyway."
Jack accepted quickly. “Love to, Davey.”
He grimaced at the nickname, but grabbed some flasks and put them in front of Jack. One had a clear liquid forming a small base layer, the other had a colorful one that he was hesitant to go by. For all Jack knew, this could be rat poison.
“This,” he gestured to the clear substance. “Is a hydrogen peroxide solution. It’s an activator. And this–” his hand flicked to the other one. “Is diphenyl oxalate and dye.”
“If you mix them together,” he grabbed the left and poured the peroxide into the right flask. It began to glow. Not hot, not bright, just soft like a star. “It creates light through chemiluminescence, though only once.”
Jack was slightly amazed by it. He never got a grasp of sciency stuff like this in high school, so he avoided it like the plague in college. He was slightly amazed by Davey, in other words.
“You gonna say something?” Davey had asked uninterestedly.
“Oh, OH– yeah, um…” he stumbled around his words. This man was so mysterious and yet so geeky at the same time. Jack wouldn’t admit he fell in love, but the smarts were very appealing.
“Cool?” Jack finally managed.
Davey looked over with a sharp gaze. “‘Cool?’ That’s it?” He rolled his eyes. “Shouldn’t have come bother me.”
“Oh, I’m bothering his majesty?” Jack said sarcastically. “I am so deeply sorry.”
“You know what nephrotoxins are?” Davey asked.
“No?” He laughed lightly.
“You wanna figure it out?” Davey turned back again with a cold glare, his hand shifting to hold a vile tightly. Whatever it was, it was clear Jack /didn’t/ want to figure it out.
“Woah,” he raised his hands in defeat. “woah, okay, I get when to stop.” He stepped back and gave the mad person some space.
“Though,” he still went on. Davey pinched his nose bridge. “I just have a question.”
“When don’t you?” Davey muttered coldly.
“Do you sleep here?”
Davey was slightly taken aback by the question. “Do I what?”
“Sleep here. There’s some blankets in the corner,” he waved his hand absentmindedly in the direction of two soft looking blankets that have clearly been used. “So I just wondered.”
“‘course I don’t sleep here,” Davey turned around to face Jack. “Just gets cold during winter is all.”
“You come here in winter?” Jack shivered at the thought.
“Not that serious,” he shrugged. “Got a hobby, so why not pursue it?”
“You call this a hobby?” Jack questioned him.
For the first time, Davey was the one who couldn’t find words.
Jack tried to shift the subject. “Wow, left ya speechless, didn’t I?” Jack smirked again.
“Go chase yourself.” Davey groaned. Maybe Jack was seeing things, but a light dust of pink grew on the other’s cheeks.
Out of nowhere, Jack’s phone began to ring. Jack jumped and saw that it was Race trying to call him.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Jack let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Your friend?” Davey asked. He seemed startled as well, if his hand moving in the direction of the gun said anything.
“Yeah,” Jack ran his fingers through his hair. “Guess he’s waiting for me.” He sighed, a little (definitely not little) disappointed to have to leave this wonder of a man.
There was an awkward silence between them. Davey shifted in his chair and Jack’s hand ran over his dirty jeans.
“Guess that means I gotta run,” Jack said quietly.
“Yeah,” Davey agreed, his voice lined with something like sorrow.
“Well,” Jack put back a happy face. “I’ll see you some other time, wonderful.” He started towards the door.
Davey choked on his words for a moment before calling out, “See you on the streets, beautiful.”
Jack couldn’t fight the blush that heated his neck and face as he retraced his long forgotten steps out of the aging building.
Met with natural light again, he had so many thoughts running around in his head.
But the one thing he knew for sure was that he was definitely going back there again.
—------------------—
Davey slammed his head onto his table and barely held back a scream as a strong blush overtook his features.
Whether it be of joy, shock, confusion, or love, he wasn’t sure.
But what he was sure about was that he just fell head over heels for a person who broke into a building and endlessly berated him with questions.
One could say that he did that too, but that was besides the point.
He kept thinking of the one thing he knew about the other man. His name.
Jack.
Jack.
That name stuck with him for hours and hours, days and days.
And it would not be leaving anytime soon.