Work Text:
“Hiraeth - a welsh word for a deep feeling of homesickness, a place you can never return back to or it never was in the first place.”
Everything in the small bedroom is cast in darkness, flashing with bright white light every two minutes which is then followed by a nearby rumble a few seconds after, rattling the wooden window frame.
It's quarter to 3am on a stormy August night. Wind, thunder and lightning, even hail hits against the window aggressively.
It's not a comfortable atmosphere to be asleep in, and unsurprisingly, multiple footsteps can be heard shuffling through the hallways towards the main common area of the mansion.
Jack himself has been tossing and turning since he laid himself to bed an hour ago, currently settling on laying on his side to watch out the window.
Even demons suffer from chronic insomnia, he figured.
Counting sheep never worked for him. Instead he observes and names the items scattered through his bedroom, finding one each time lighting flashes in hopes it will bore him into slumber.
The first thing is the sturdy oak shelf to his left, stacked with various books. Anatomy books, volumes of medical textbooks, his own research notes and journals are neatly organized, A to Z and by category. However, two books are out of place, the volumes of Slavic and Norse mythology shoved to the very end of the shelf.
When was the last time he read them? Why does he even have them? Hell, why didn't he throw them away by now?
Thunder flashes again.
Moving on, he glances at his nightstand. The azure blue mask placed there stares at the ceiling, much like Jack was at one point.
There's also a bracelet. A two toned string bracelet with the first string being a dark shade of blue, his favourite color, while the other string is… it's your favourite color.
His memories are foggy as he stares at the frayed ends of the bracelet. He can't recall half of the things and people from his life before he became what he is today, but you he could never forget. His college experience is left in broken fragments.
-
Your tongue pokes out in concentration as you loop the strings one over another, nearly done with the bracelet. Your fingers are becoming slightly numb from gripping the two strings over one another and tying them without a pause.
A cookie bar touches your tongue, making you
stop. You look up at Jack, his expression neutral.
He holds up the block of dessert to your mouth, but you just blink at him. He blinks back.
Retreating the cookie bar away from your face, he takes a bite instead. Your tongue flicks back into your mouth.
“What was that?” You tilt your head at him.
“What was what?” He mimics your action, exaggerating the tilt.
His face breaks into a dumb smile, sitting cross-legged on the park bench so his knee brushes up against your thigh at times.
You shake your head and continue with the bracelet, the cookie bar slowly inching to your lips again.
“Jack.”
“Yes?”
This time you don't reply, instead taking a big bite.
Yup, it's delicious. You give yourself a pat on the back for the successful bake. And your boyfriend, too.
“That's a ten out of ten, glad our substitutions worked out in the end.” You bite the cookie bar once more from his hand, letting him eat the rest.
He grabs another one from the small tupperware you brought, munching down on it and looking around the big, nature covered park tinged green with slow flecks of yellow, brown and red beginning to take over.
The early fall morning breeze warms you two, the sun rays casting shadows of tree branches that sway gently in rhythm with the wave ripples of the surrounding lake.
Jack leans onto your shoulder, watching your hands work with the two strings diligently.
The moment would be cute if he didn't flinch up all of a sudden, startling you in the process.
His hands rub at the side of his head, face grimacing in pain.
You don't need to ask, already knowing. You just hope it's not a migraine.
Jack leans back into your shoulder, a shiver passing through him making him clutch onto the sleeves of his black windbreaker jacket.
He reassures he's fine and that it's a regular headache, but you don't trust it.
“No, it's okay. I'm good. It's not a migraine, I promise.” You can hear the strain in his voice, his teeth gritting through the pain.
You pull up the hood of his blue hoodie over his head and zip up the jacket to the end, practically swaddling him.
“Jack, I'd rather you not end up in the ER again like in the first week of college. Seriously, we have plenty of opportunities for a date, let's go home now.”
He takes your hands, convincing you to stay for a few more moments, showing you his own bracelet he finished before you. He even shifted his legs so he's kneeling on the bench, his frame towering over you as his soft dual coloured eyes look at you in their beautiful shades of brown and amber.
“Please? Just enough to tie the bracelets on our hands? I'm not in much pain, really.”
You're working fast, while also making sure it's not messy, to finish your bracelet. You had to show Jack how to make his first, which is why you had a late start on yours.
Still, you worry for him. The headaches are becoming more and more frequent, what will happen when college stress and studying weigh in on his wellbeing too? He still doesn't know what's causing him the flare ups of pain either.
However, your claim gets you a quick peck on the cheek from Jack.
“Check ups say I'm perfectly healthy and my bloodwork results get complimented by the whole laboratory team. It's just stress based, love.”
That's true. But, it doesn't explain why he gets headaches or migraines then.
His grandfather is blind and both his parents wear prescription glasses, yet Jack's vision is 20/20, so it can't be eye strain.
How much stress is he hiding? You know he was a straight A+ student through middle school to high school, and he even has a scholarship for his medical college.
He's always revising or making notes, flipping through books or medical science research. You're happy he's found himself and strives to become a surgeon, a field his intelligence and composure is perfect for. Yet, your mind wonders about the constant pressure of bearing responsibility for saving another life he's going to have in the future.
Jack is a calm person, kind and fairly quiet around others, while also being playful and low-key sassy around his closest friends.
Not to mention, he's a romantic at heart.
He's not much into public displays of affection, but his small actions make it obvious you're together.
His hands or fingers always intertwine with yours in public, holding each other close and randomly slipping a compliment with a soft smile. He'll reach for the tall stacked items for you, even if you can reach them or lean down to tie your shoes. The most obvious one is the undeniable soft gaze he has for you, mentioned by multiple people.
In private? Hands wrapped around you, cuddling, shared laughter and whispers echo through the apartment. He randomly starts to attack you with kisses over your face and neck, gently biting at times.
Oh, you stole a shirt of his and are currently wearing it? He's emerging from the bedroom wearing your clothing.
You finish the bracelet, your mind returning to the current situation, and smile as he excitedly holds out his hand, observing how you tie the strings into a strong knot. Then he takes his bracelet and grabs your hand, repeating what he saw you do.
Intertwining your hands, Jack holds them out and grins. Both of your favourite colors tied together and on your wrists.
“I know you said these are called friendship bracelets,” he begins, “But, technically they're couple bracelets for us, no?”
Agreeing with him, you cuddle to his side and rest your head on his shoulder now.
“Jack?”
He hums.
“I enjoyed the walk through the trail… even if you woke me up at 7am on a Saturday for it.”
Chucking, he leans his head to rest on top of yours.
“I love you too.”
-
The magnetic fridge board full of notes and scribbles stares at you.
You stare back at it.
Around it, an array of neon colored sticky notes fill in what doesn't fit on it.
You don't even know which handwriting is yours and which is Jack's at this point, the fonts melting together the deeper into the semester you went.
By that you mean it's been a few months into college life.
However, the apartment is still clean.
Blessed be you with a boyfriend who does housework automatically and doesn't need to be reminded about shared house tasks.
Your colleagues have talked about their nightmare roommates and significant others not knowing how to even wash the dishes. It makes you shudder just imagining it.
Thank you, Mrs and Mr Nyras, for being great parents. I promise I will husband up your son in the following years.
The neon sticky notes and fridge unfocus out of your sight, your mind instead reminiscing about a study date at Jack's house early on in your relationship.
You two were trying to revise some history notes in the living room while his parents cooked dinner together in the kitchen. They were making your favourite dish.
Jack's mother insisted you stay for dinner from the moment you arrived and his father was heading out to get the remaining groceries needed for dinner after they asked you for your preferences.
However, because Jack's parents now kept flirting with each other and making jokes while sappy pet names fell from their lips, their loving and sweet moments kept distracting you at times. Jack on the other hand wasn't phased at the giggling at all, even said this is normal.
His parents act like they're newlyweds even years into the marriage, having weekly dates or activities to do together.
Shaking your head with a smile, you see a sticky note with handwriting close to yours, marked with three big exclamation marks.
Get laundry detergent after classes !!!
Well, shit. It slipped your mind. Now you have to go out again. Unless…
You glance at the clock on the wall reading 5:20pm.
Jack's class ends in ten minutes, you could call him to do it instead of you on the way home. He'd do it, no complaints.
As you ponder, your phone notifies you of a text from him asking if you want to eat out tonight.
Perfect.
Stepping out of the bus at the agreed meet up bus stop, you smile at Jack and take his hand.
“Were you waiting long?”
He shakes his head and leads you two through the busy streets towards the agreed restaurant.
The two of you have been to this place before, finding it early on when you moved for college.
Honestly, it started because Jack had this really persistent random craving for his paternal grandmother’s food and he didn't feel like making it himself that day.
He holds your hand tighter and pulls you closer to him as the streets become filled with people going home from work or college, checking with you if you're fine with the restaurant choice once again.
You huff and nod.
Of course you are. The owner is your favourite person in this part of the city.
And Jack really needs the food. For some reason his headache and migraine problems improve when he eats a hearty portion of meat, but on a student budget it's impossible to buy meat everyday and the student cafeteria doesn't offer satisfying portions to fill up someone his size.
The restaurant you're currently heading to, on the other hand? Oh, they're generous. Claiming you need the energy to get through college.
And when the owner heard Jack has family roots from the same country as her, it really solidified you two as family too. Even if Jack barely speaks the language and is maybe 25% South Slavic.
Opening the door, you're already greeted with open arms in the warm cottage looking space and being led to a table in a cozy corner.
“My two favourite college students are back!” The owner herself, a woman in her sixties with wine red short permed hair gives you a big grin. Her hands rest on her hips, her hand-embroidered apron proudly tied around her waist as she takes your orders.
Shortly after, she brings your drinks and also a medium sized paper bag.
“This got in from home, I wanted to give some to you two.”
From the looks of it, it's mostly sweets and Jack thanks her while she moves onto other customers.
You rummage through it for a bit while Jack takes a sip of his lemonade, subtly grinning at your curiosity.
You lift up a small box, a bear looking thing holding a big spoon slapped on it as a logo. Then, there's also a packet of some kind of candy squares with a clown mascot.
You claw out two thin rectangles from the bag, one has a surfing alligator wearing a chain necklace and sunglasses on the packaging, while the other has a seagull in a sailor uniform.
Jack's eyes widen, claiming he hasn't gotten those since he was thirteen.
“What is it?”
“Chocolate, but you get animal stickers with it.”
Well, that just explained the random animal stickers he had everywhere in his room at his parents’ house. You kinda want to open them right now, but the food arrives and you put the bag of goodies down.
The smell is already heavenly, but the taste is even more amazing. It really is homemade.
Not to mention, you two got extra portions again without having to ask.
You're thinking of how much of your food you're going to carry back to the apartment. The portion you've been given is too much, even the shared side salad and flatbread is a meal in itself.
Jack is already devouring the plate of chicken liver with some sauce and gnocchi. You're not exactly sure how big a chicken’s liver is, but you presume Jack got maybe four or five on his plate.
Safe to say, you two are going to be filled with food by the end of this day.
The contemplation to lay your head down on the table is strong, you physically feel your body telling you no more food and to rest. You've eaten half of your food before throwing in the towel.
Jack managed to eat two thirds of his food and also finished the sides with your help, but now he's on the verge of a food coma, trying his hardest to not slump into the chair.
“I can't move.” He groans, checking the time on the wall clock. An hour and forty minutes, that's how long you've been at the restaurant.
You blink, pondering how you're going to reach the bus stop, then remember the sticky note.
“We have to go get some stuff at the convenience store.” You take his hand across the table and squeeze it in encouragement while realization dawns on him he indeed has to move.
The owner comes up to the table, a teasing smile on her face as she asks if you two are ready for dessert. Jack's face shows he's thinking of all the polite ways to decline while you blankly stare at your plates.
“Oh, I'm just kidding, I'll pack up the leftovers for you and give you dessert with it. I'm happy to see you two eating well.”
There's an audible sigh of relief from you and Jack, making the owner chuckle as she gets some boxes and bags.
By the end, there's two bags filled with the leftover food and three containers with desserts, and also the bag of sweets given at the start.
You'll get the laundry detergent tomorrow, no way you're walking into a store like this. Not to mention, Jack looks ready to fall asleep just about anywhere.
Saying goodbye to the owner and other staff, thanking them for the big portion and gifts, you walk out the door hands full. The owner says something in her native tongue, making Jack smirk and answer back while closing the door.
His father has said that to him a few times too, but you never asked what the sentence means.
“Is it a phrase? The last thing she said just now?” Linking your free arms together, you stare at Jack as he tucks his nose under the blue knitted scarf from his mother.
“Yeah, a pretty common one said to kids. It means to think about your actions before doing something, but the literal translation would be to put the smartness into your head.”
Pulling him into you as people crowd the sidewalk, you huff at some people's lack of spatial awareness.
Even if Jack towers over everyone in the radius with his height and stocky build, people manage to brush or bump into you two. Some unsurprisingly seem to intentionally want to separate you and Jack's linked arms.
Bitter people hate to see a couple living peacefully, it seems.
Maybe you're stressed or it's the amount of food you've just indigested, but you feel a solid heartburn spreading through your torso while waiting for the bus to arrive. The bus station is packed as well, not easing up the feeling.
You lean onto Jack, closing your eyes.
“Everything alright, love?”
You're about to nod, but what's the point in lying?
“Feeling sick…my heart is hurting.” You try to inhale some air, but a sudden sharp pain cuts through your chest area.
Your voice lets out a small hitch, you free hand squeezing Jack's tightly.
He looks at you, your name slipping out in concern.
“M’...fine, I'm…good, had to catch my breath.”
Although, he's already observing you, eyes darting over your face.
“Jack, it's okay. I think the pain is fading now.” You smile at him, seeing how he's analysing the curve of your lips.
He slightly tilts his head. “Are you still feeling sick?”
“Yeah, but not as much. I think I just overate.”
Squeezing his hand once again, this time in reassurance, you watch as he nervously swings the bags he's holding back and forth until the bus arrives.
Managing to find seats in the bus, the two of you quietly sit down.
There's multiple conversations mixing in with the sound of the bus driving, the space mostly occupied by other students heading home from their classes or hangouts.
You see a colleague of yours a few seats down. Although the two of you just tiredly wave at each other in acknowledgement, she's leaning on her girlfriend's shoulder much like you're leaning on Jack's.
Jack, on the other hand, is rummaging through the bag of sweets, trying his best to not make much noise and pulls out the thin chocolate in the animal packaging.
He offers one to you, but you decline.
Watching him open the blue packaging with the sailor seagull, you're amused by the joy he's currently radiating.
The chocolate is ignored, wrapped back as he gets the rectangle shaped sticker and shows it to you with an adorable, boyish smile.
“I got a tiger.”
True to his words, a picture of a tiger meets your sight. You bet he's going to stick it on one of his notebooks.
“Reminds me of you.” You glance at him, his eyebrows raised in question. “Jack, you're like a big cat.”
“Elaborate-”
The conversation is interrupted by three voices calling Jack's name. He's startled, then looks at the girls approaching you two, awkwardly saying hi.
The group lights up as they notice you, introducing themselves as Jack's colleagues and claiming they're excited to meet you in person and not just from afar.
“He couldn't stop smiling when you called him in between classes the other day.”
“He always compliments and praises you, downright bragging how great you are.”
“Omg, you do have matching bracelets, that's adorable.”
They say a few more embarrassing sentences, making Jack sink further into his scarf while you smile and nod politely.
“Oh wait, were you two on a date?”
The girls immediately apologize for interrupting and you can't help but chuckle.
You got scared they were malicious, but they're genuinely just energetic and bubbly.
Jenny, the blonde one with a pixie cut, looks at the tiger sticker Jack is still holding and her eyes glint.
“How'd you get the animal kingdom chocolates? A friend of mine is obsessed with collecting them.”
Somehow, the girls got you and Jack to talk about the restaurant and about Jack's family tree, particularly his Slavic roots.
Jenny is fully American, as is the second girl, but the third was born in Hungary before her parents moved abroad. They claim you have to meet a friend of theirs, also with Slavic roots like Jack and invite you two to a college party they're organising before they get off the bus.
You and Jack wave them goodbye, then look at each other, mentally agreeing that was weird.
-
A corner lamp dimly casts the apartment in a warm yellow. The curtains are drawn shut and the TV is just background noise at this point.
Your boyfriend is currently acting as a weighted blanket, his arms caging you into the couch while his head rests in the crook of your neck. It's been like that since you've returned from your classes in the late afternoon.
A big cat. You smile and continue to trace your fingers up and down his back.
He'd purr if he could.
Both of you have caught up with all current assignments and tasks, having the off time to relax for the weekend.
His phone dings with a new message, but you both ignore it and you move your hand to pet Jack's hair, making him sigh in bliss.
Another notification rings out from the razr and he stretches his hand to grab it from the coffee table, flipping it open.
You lean into the armrest, reading the messages with him.
He's typing out a reply, declining another of Jenny's invites to the party when you stop him.
“Maybe we could go this time? We can always leave if we don't like it.”
He's always been hesitant with attending events, you're sure if it weren't for you, he'd willingly miss prom too. And you never pushed him, but it's not bad to have at least one college party experience.
Jack was never rebellious, always preferring to stay inside reading books or playing games, not even peer pressure from his past classmates could break him into drinking or smoking.
If it weren't for a mutual friend of yours dragging him to a DND session you were part of, you wouldn't even notice him in school despite some shared classes.
The two of you clicked afterwards, sitting together in classes and studying, hanging out after school and by the last year of highschool, the two of you were officially dating.
His family loved you the moment they met you and your own family was fond of Jack despite some still not knowing the two of you were dating, so neither put up a fight when you wanted to move into an apartment together for college.
You're not sure of the party either, a cozy Friday evening of relaxing being your plan for today, but both of you have just been studying with eventual small short dates or coffee hangouts with your colleagues.
And it would be a lie if you said you weren't curious about the party events Jenny organised. She invites you and Jack every time, but doesn't fuss when she gets declined.
It's just, she's really persistent, you'll give her that. Preaching the events.
Jack's holding his phone, finger waiting over the send button. His head slumps into your neck as he throws the phone back onto the coffee table.
“I wanna watch medical dramas with you.”
He nuzzles into you. “House MD and Grey's Anatomy are more amusing than being in a random building with blaring music.”
You understand him, but mention the party could maybe loosen up the stress that's been piling up.
He's still for a moment, his expression showing he's pondering your words.
“One condition, we don't stay there too late.”
What does qualify as staying too late to Jack? By now it's 9:34pm and you're holding his hand as you walk through the crowds of students together. The dark magenta and purple lights mix with neon green at times and you can feel your heartbeat with the beat of the songs playing through the speakers.
The first to notice you two threading through is Jenny, grabbing both of you and dragging you towards a group. You've met some of them, Jack's colleagues that is, but the others are unfamiliar. Although, they're quickly introduced as their friends or partners.
Jenny runs and returns just as quickly with another girl on hand. Her hair is cut in a messy bob, but with the neon lights you're not sure of her hair colour other than that it's dark.
Jenny introduces her as Mirela, making sure she highlights she's from Croatia.
The girl smiles and waves at both of you, then her name is called as she runs off while Jenny pouts.
“She's the main organiser for this.” She sighs, adding how Mirela is always running around checking everything is in place. Then, Jenny thanks you for coming and runs towards Mirela’s direction.
You haven't seen the two girls since then. However, you're having fun listening to the friend group complain about professors or different classes while also exchanging gossip about more people you don't know of. Maybe those medical dramas you and Jack watch aren't completely unrealistic after all.
The place is crowded, yet you haven't seen a single person you know of or share classes with surprisingly.
Your voice is also starting to become hoarse from the raised tone you have to speak in while Fall Out Boy’s “Dance, Dance” transitions into “Feel Good Inc” by Gorillaz through the music speakers.
You look around, hoping there's some water available in the mix of alcohol and juice placed on the crowded table you've occupied for the past two hours.
Your group has taken up a whole bottle of gin, two vodkas, orange juice, cranberry juice, a variety of sodas, but no water on the table.
Correction, Jack had a bottle of water which is now empty.
The bar should have some more, you could take one for him and one for you.
You glance at him, a relaxed smile on his face as he listens to a colleague of his excitedly talk about the upcoming sequel to Pirates of the Caribbean that will release in theatres in four months.
Removing Jack's hand resting over your shoulder, you tell him you're going to get some water and ask if anyone needs anything else.
Of course, another bottle of liquor is requested.
“Want me to come with you?” Jack asks, holding onto your hand, but you shrug.
“I'll be back in a few minutes.”
The group loudly thanks you for volunteering to bring more drinks, your face slightly heating up at the drunken praises from some of them as you disappear into the crowd.
Trying to avoid the dance floor, side stepping through and around other tables, onto your right you reach one of the set up bars and get into the thankfully smaller than expected line.
“What will it be, kiddo?”
The bartender with the coolest liberty spikes dyed red raises an eyebrow with a smirk towards you.
“Oh, um, two water bottles and a bottle of whatever alcohol you have left.”
He turns his back and looks through the crates, pulling a bottle of Jack Daniels out. “This acceptable for you?”
You nod and take it along with the two plastic bottles, thanking him as he moves onto the next person.
Your eyes widen as the dance floor is more crowded now and some people have taken to climbing onto the tables as “I Write Sins, Not Tragedies” plays.
The magenta lights were nice, but now it's hard to see your table and you think you might have a hard time finding the path back to it.
There's also a fight breaking out by the nearby tables and you move away, unfortunately stepping into the dancefloor.
Well fuck me. I'll have to push through it.
Clutching the drinks to your chest, making sure they're supported on the bottom, you begin to push your shoulders into others.
“Sorry.”
“Moving through, thank you.”
“Just passing by.”
Something is telling you you aren't making any progress towards reaching your table.
The platforms, right!
Huffing, you break through the crowd and find yourself near the DJ booth. She's looking over her CDJ and talking with another girl who's scrolling over her laptop, probably pointing out the playlist songs.
It would be funny if you asked her to announce to your table to pick you up, but that would be embarrassing on your part.
Reaching up the stairs to the booth, high enough to get a view of your table, your eyes find a decent enough path to avoid all the chaos. Taking a deep breath, you cough as the nearby second hand smoke reaches your nose.
Well, here I go.
Through the loud music, the smoke machine and drunk college students, you begin your return just as the DJ decides to play the just released “SOS” by Rihanna.
It makes you roll your eyes and laugh at the irony of your situation at the same time.
Bottles safely in your arms, the dancefloor is passed and you just have to find your table now.
A hand touches your waist, making you turn around towards it. You bite your tongue, silencing the profanities that were about to slip out as you come face to face with Jack.
“Hi, baby!” You smile at him and he tries to keep a straight face, but his lips curve up in the end.
Hand gripping your side, Jack leads you back towards the table, leaning down so you can hear him.
“You took longer, so I went looking for you.”
He takes the bottle of whiskey from you with his free hand, sliding it onto the table while he sits back down onto the edge of the booth seat.
You're placed onto his lap, but considering half of the people at this table have someone sitting in their lap too, no one bats an eye at Jack's most prominent public display of affection yet.
By 1am, Jack is starting to hang his head on your shoulder tiredly. It's your signal to go home.
Wrapping up the conversation you were having, you stand up with Jack and say good night to everyone. Chuckling as you're met with complaints and whines to stay longer, Jack tugs you away from his colleagues, yelling out how he'll see them on Monday.
You're both laughing at the ridiculous things they're saying back, waiving at them until they're out of sight.
Nearing the exit of the building, you take notice there is a stairway by the doors that leads to the second floor open balcony, although it's guarded by security.
Must be the VIP section.
Glancing back up the sides of it, the two of you lock eyes with Jenny and Mirela staring down at you from the platform railings. They smile and wave, then return to their conversation.
Jenny points at you two, her lips speaking really fast and Mirela glances down at you and Jack once more, nodding in agreement.
You wonder what they're talking about.
Fresh night air hits your lungs, sighing in relief as the metal doors shut behind you.
The party was great, but you prefer being able to breathe. And hear. And speak at a normal volume.
Jack holds your hand, trekking through the dirt path shortcut towards the lonely bus station. Neither of you speak until you're back in the apartment, shrugging off the outer layers.
“Did you have fun? You did.” Grinning at him, you poke his side. It earns you a breathy chuckle from Jack and he admits it was fun.
“Although, I'd still stay home, preferably.”
Quietly moving to the kitchen without turning on the lights, Jack takes the container of painkillers, drinking two at once while he sits down on the couch. From the hall, you take off your shoes quickly and sit next to him in record time.
Another headache.
Jack claims it must be from the party ambience.
-
You don't know why you choose to live on the 6th floor of the building, but the summer heat is currently killing you. Your body is in pain and you sit on the couch waiting for the medicine to kick in.
You glance at the calendar in the kitchen still reading July 2009. It's August 3rd today, but you suppose you forgot to change it, still jetlagged from returning from overseas two days ago.
Jack's grandparents have invited the two of you to their beach house in Zadar, catching up with Jack and finally meeting you in person. The whole experience was heartwarming, you wish you could've stayed longer than two weeks, but college classes are starting soon and both you and Jack have to finish up the final few shifts at your summer jobs.
You miss Jack's grandma already, she's the sweetest woman you've met.
She also confirmed Jack is like a cat, her pet name for him being micek, a cutesy Croatian word for a cat.
You yourself earned the pet name srce from her, low-key sobbing once Jack told you it means sweetheart.
Additionally, during the two weeks on the Croatian coastline, Jack didn't get a migraine, nor headaches. You felt in full health as well.
Nevertheless, everything is hitting you now back in America.
Jack is passed out in the darkened bedroom, his form barely visible from the half opened door, starfished on the bedcovers in nothing but his shorts.
He didn't move an inch since early morning, managing to drink half of his coffee before his vision started to flash.
The cup is still on the coffee table, now cold.
Placed by the black folder labelled with his name.
You open it, staring at the most recent MRI images of his head. No anomalies found, the doctors deeming everything is fine and in order.
Yet, no medicine they still prescribe helps.
Only the weird remedy of eating lots of meat, especially organs like liver, kidneys, stomach and heart. It's unusual, but whatever helps, helps at this point.
You had a friend in high school who's only migraine remedy was chugging down chocolate milk. Which unfortunately doesn't work for Jack.
Your own health hasn't been faring any better either. Developing unexplained chest pains in your second year of study that have no visible anomalies while all lab checks come back normal has earned you a white folder with your name, full of medical papers just like Jack's.
The symptoms just keep worsening, you're surprised you even finished your third and fourth year of college.
Both your and Jack's files are thick, containing all the medical files and papers from both the hospital and ER visits since the start of college.
The kitchen has a cabinet shelf dedicated to various medicine by now.
Painkillers, sleeping pills, vitamins and minerals, ORS, antacids, your various heart pills and his headache pills…and of course the psychiatric section of the medicine.
You groan as your chest starts to hurt again, the medicine doing nothing to soothe the burning sensation.
Dragging your legs to the dark bedroom, you lift Jack's arm and crawl under it.
He shifts so you're both laying on your sides, his chest to your back, one of his arms under your neck, while the other takes place on your hip.
Hugging you close, he hums.
“Flare up?”
You nod, closing your eyes.
“Still hurting?”
He nods.
It's like you're eighty and not twenty-three years old.
“We're going to die in here, fuck…”
You turn around, curling into his chest as a pained whimper leaves you.
He stays quiet, pressing a kiss to your temple.
The only sounds in the apartment are your shared breaths and the traffic outside.
Jack's eyes stay closed, arm pushing up your t-shirt. His hand presses gentle circles under your ribs, by your heart in an effort to soothe you.
“Don't say that, we'll get through this.” His voice is husky and deep from sleep, nuzzling into you further.
Eventually, the pain coursing through both of you tires your bodies enough to fall asleep until late noon.
Jack wakes up in the same position as he remembers falling asleep in, still clutching your curled body to his chest.
A dull pain surrounds his head, but the worst of it is over.
He tries to move without waking you up, but as soon as he removes his arms from you, it wakes you.
You sit up, sharing a look with Jack. You're both hungry.
Thankfully, you have leftover food from yesterday. You do not feel like going anywhere.
Jack brings his cold cup of coffee to the counter, sipping on it with a frown and then taking out a pan to warm up the meat dish.
He asks you what you'd prefer, turning your head to him to press a quick peck over your cheek as you mutter out soup.
“Just that?” Taking out the container from the fridge, he pours it into a small pot and places it on the stove, next to the pan.
You make a sound of confirmation, watching the water kettle come to a boil and pouring it into your mug with a teabag. You take Jack's mug too, pouring out the cold coffee and making a fresh cup.
His mug is placed back by the stove. You hug him from behind, arms wrapping around his middle while he thanks you.
His body is always so warm, you squeeze him a little, making him chuckle.
“Can I help you, my love?” There's a teasing tilt in his voice, tempting you to bite him in reply. However, you press a kiss to his back instead.
“I love you very much, I hope you know that, Jack.”
You feel his breath hitch, his muscles slightly shaking from amusement.
“I love you too.”
The small apartment is cooled down by the AC, sunlight peaking through the halfdrawn blinds.
Cooking utensils make noise as they're set down, the flame of the stove also being turned off.
You step away, taking out a plate and a bowl from the cupboard along with the silverware while Jack sets the food on the table.
He grabs both of your mugs too.
Small talk is shared between bites of food, discussing housework that has to be done, what bills have to be paid and which have been paid, and your summer jobs.
Jack mentions his parents sending him some pocket money, saying how that's going into savings or for emergencies.
Jokingly, you ask if they can send frozen meat too, referencing the time his parents came to visit you two and his father brought a cooler of frozen meat pieces.
Took up your whole freezer. Jack laughs, then the phone on the counter notifies of a message.
You pay it no mind at first, continuing the banter. However, the phone makes another notification, then another and another.
Now it makes the two of you stop.
He gets up from his seat, flipping the thing open with a furrowed expression.
Sitting down, he hands you his phone to read the message chain.
hiya, need help with setting up the next event xd
pretty please<33
both of uuu
will be picking u up tmrw :3
byyyee
Jack frowns, Jenny has been nothing but nice to you two. She's a good friend and all, never did anything bad except maybe pry into others’ personal lives too much.
But, he still has an unexplained hunch that something is not right. Had so from the first day he met her.
You look up from the phone.
“Another event? Didn't she have a big party last week?”
Nodding, Jack is somewhat puzzled as well.
Both Jenny and Mirela have become close friends for you over the years, their names are big in any event organising. Not just college parties, they've been responsible for big seminars and official college events.
Still, you have only attended a few of those events despite being invited to everything.
Another message from her arrives.
ooo, miry also got you two into vip :pppp
you HAVE to go
“I don't know…” Jack is hesitant, looking at you for your opinion.
You understand. They know you have random flare ups of pain. Surely, they'd not get angry if you declined this too.
Jenny has accompanied Jack at the ER multiple times until you got there and Mirela has taken care of you when you were extremely sick while Jack and Jenny had an important exam they couldn't afford to miss.
Not to mention, Jenny was the first to befriend Jack in college, introducing him to everyone. You're not sure if Jack would've opened up to his colleagues as much if it weren't for her.
Your own colleagues and friends knew of Jenny too, speaking kindly of her.
Mirela, one year ahead in the same college as you, shares all of her notes and scripts with you. She even warned you which professors to look out for and…
Ah, maybe you do owe them a few favors.
“We can help them set the event up, at least?”
Jack agrees, feeling guilty for not really returning Jenny and Mirela's good faith.
-
Jenny parks her car by the old warehouse complex, tall trees circling the premises.
“Who exactly owns this?” You look at the cement building up ahead, the other smaller houses around it completely blocked off with caution tape or boards.
“No worries, I can show you the paper where the landowner gave permission to use the area.”
Opening the back of her car, she asks you to take the big blue plastic bag placed in a cardboard box while Jack takes the two large jerry cans.
Jenny takes two sports duffle bags, carrying them over her shoulders with a preppy step towards the open entrance door of the building.
You have no idea what the theme of the event is, but you're curious what could possibly be inside the box you're carrying. From the shifting sound, it's grainy and coarse.
Jack offhandedly mentions how the jerry cans smell like fresh made asphalt roads.
You ask Jenny about it as the three of you get inside, but she claims it's a secret.
Several small groups are scattered through the open space, just finishing up setting a high platform with stairs in the center.
Could that be the DJ booth? Or maybe it's the VIP section?
Mirela seems to be in charge of it, pointing some things to another person and making hand motions in several directions as she explains to the group where each item has to be placed.
“Do not mess it up, everything has to be in order. Everything has to be perfect.”
She breathes frustratedly, then calls your name once she takes notice of you holding the box, asking you to bring it up to her.
Jenny leads Jack away, pointing him to place the jerry cans onto the floor by the cloth covered mystery shapes.
Something in Jack's mind is screaming, dread pulsing through him unexplainably. He should get the two of you out of here this instant.
He'll say he's feeling sick.
Although, Jenny drove you here and the next bus station is thirty minutes away by foot. Then who knows when the actual bus will appear.
The jerry can doesn't have a label, but the liquid sloshing inside is viscous and smells of asphalt. A black color is dried by the cap of the can, from dripping out accidentally when it was being filled.
It's certainly asphalt. Definitely.
There's no reason Jack can come up with to have that at a party.
Jenny taps his back, asking if he's okay in a worried tone. He's been staring at the items without moving an inch.
Turning to her, Jack's eyes zone on the black cross necklace around her neck.
Jenny has been talking about religion and finally finding a community for herself since he's met her. He didn't care much, she wasn't pushing it on others so it wasn't as annoying as some preachers can be.
However, a cold sweat passes through him now.
Every single person in this abandoned warehouse is wearing either fully white or fully black clothes, the ratio is evenly distributed.
Snapping his head up to the platform, Mirela is incredibly touchy with you.
You uncomfortably step away, Mirela following every movement.
Ignoring Jenny's calls of his name, Jack breaks into a run to you, but two nearby people restrain him.
He's struggling against them, pushing and kicking, yelling out your name. A sting spreads through his upper right arm, piercing his skin like a bee sting.
No. He knows better.
It's a needle, releasing god knows what into his bloodstream.
Throwing out curses, Jack bites the two holding him, being released from their arms. He's sure he broke the needle with all that movement, the burn continuing to spread.
He doesn't look back at them, nor who jabbed him. All he cares about is reaching you.
Through blurring sight, Jack grits his teeth seeing Mirela holding you down with a few others while a needle is jabbed through your arm.
His legs give out as soon as he lifts them onto the first stair towards the platform.
Your voice is cursing everyone around you, fighting against them. This isn't just trying to escape, both of you are trying to survive.
Footsteps approach Jack by the stairs, a low curse and harsh breaths leaving his lungs as his shaky arms desperately claw up, dragging his swiftly numbing body.
His eyes are horribly blurring by the second, sight worsening with tears lining them. Every nerve in his body is shutting down.
Yet, he doesn't give up until his body betrays him, blacking out.
-
The cement ground is cold, everything around Jack is cold.
His mind is barely conscious, nauseous from the sedatives.
His limbs are freezing and still half numb as he tries to move them. However, his arms are tied behind his back and his legs are similarly bound together with rope.
Rolled onto his side, his clothes have been stripped off while his skin stings with bleeding cuts resembling symmetrical markings.
A black robe enters his vision, kneeling down to lift Jack's face up.
He can't speak properly, his voice barely slurring out a curse at her, so he just glares with blurry eyes.
“Everything is perfect. Thank you for this, Jack.”
Jenny stands up while two figures, also dressed in black, grab Jack by the arms.
He's dragged onto a marked circle, painted with dark red and smelling of copper.
A black velvety cloak is wrapped around him, then he's forced onto his knees.
His head is faced towards the platform, making out white blurs before it's blocked by Jenny standing in front of him in the center of the circle. Five other cloaked figures surround him, evenly distanced and holding hands.
“Shall we start?” Mirela's voice echoes loudly on the platform behind Jenny.
An unsheathing of a blade is heard.
Jenny nods, grabbing Jack's face. Cradling it gently with a soft smile.
He's too sedated to have any proper control of his body, barring his teeth up at her and grunting out in discomfort the only thing he can do as he tries to break away.
And up on the platform your pleas and terrified cries echo and tug at his heart. He can't see you from down here, doesn't know what is happening to you.
By Jenny's side, two people hold intricate bowls of steaming black, tarry substance. Asphalt.
Jack has never been more afraid. His heart is hammering out of his chest making him feel more sick, more vile as Jenny trails her thumbs from across his cheekbones to his eye lids and then under his eye sockets while others chant under their breath.
A string of sentences he doesn't understand, the old slavic language now turned into a demonic tongue calling for something, someone who should be at peace.
“...no, please…”
His voice breaks, horror piercing through him.
“...don't do this…”
Jenny just stares at him, her thumb wiping away the tears over his eyes.
Your pleading in the back turns into panicked chants of the word no. Your voice yelling out until it turns into bloodcurdling screams.
He wishes he never talked to his colleagues.
He should've stayed quiet. Stayed inside and just studied.
He'd graduate, find a decent house with you in a nice, calm neighborhood, you'd have your dream jobs…and he'd tell you he loves you on the daily.
Jenny coos almost sympathetically at his tears and shaking whines.
“I've liked you, Jack.”
She jabs her fingers upwards.
An indescribable amount of pain courses through Jack's body. His entire nervous system flares up and agonizing screams tear out his throat.
His body locks up, forcefully laid onto his back while his head is turned and held towards the ceiling, crushed still in someone's hold.
His limbs strain against the rope, pained wails screaming out as he feels blood fill into his brain.
The pain is inhumane, non-stopping and brutal. It's taking over his mind and body completely, worsening as scalding hot tar is poured over his eyes.
Saliva mixes with his blood, tears and tar liquid streaming down his eyes, choking him while the screams and cries rattle in his throat.
His muscles pull and tear apart from the strain and his last scream is broken down, silenced by his last harsh exhale.
-
Everything.
He feels everything.
Air fills his lungs, a heavy smell of copper, metal, chemicals and flesh lingering through it.
It burns, it hurts.
The rustling of fabric, the sounds of fast paced pulses, feet moving. Overwhelming, too loud.
His body spasms, confused.
“My lord, Chernobog.” Her voice sounds rotten to him. His teeth part in response.
“Your vessel is perfect, worthy of you.”
Jenny kneels down, along with the other dark cloaked figures.
His fingers twitch, muscle straining again. The rope binding him breaks down easily, no struggle in standing up from the smeared circle. His black cloak doesn't touch the floor anymore.
Taller than he's used to. Bigger than he is.
His body isn't his.
Wrath courses through his veins. Agitated at the eyes staring up at him while another voice is echoing above on the platform.
“Rise, Belobog. A vessel has been given to your name.”
Grinding his teeth, a bitter taste stays on his tongue. Hands, clawed and sharp, swing intensely.
He doesn't move Jenny away, tearing through her in half without giving her time to react.
Others cower in fear at the sight, not reaching far away before their throats are bitten off and clawed out.
The bodies are splayed out, blood soaking into the cement ground, their trail of blood dripping down his sharp nails, smeared by the drag of his feet approaching the lifted platform.
Mirela, dressed in a white loose dress, speckled with blood, red soaking up her sleeves, repeats her sentence. Calling out to someone who won't answer, her tone shifts into frustration.
They've half circled your body, backs turned to the stairway. Too into themselves, into their twisted ritual.
Rattling breaths leave his mouth, dragging his legs up like a newborn animal learning to walk.
But, he adapts well.
Shadowing over Mirela's form, he's hunched, staring into the back of her skull.
With widened eyes, she turns. Words dying on her tongue as her head is grabbed and bashed into the ground.
A crack is heard clearly, her warm corpse rolling down the stairs.
She doesn't matter.
On a stone circle, settled over layers of white lace, you lay motionless.
Your chest is cut open, filled with fine white crystals taking on the deep red color of your blood.
There's no heartbeat.
There is no heart.
His scowl turns into a growl. Aggressive, rumbling from his diaphragm, it rises without control as his claws slash through the nearest person frozen in fear.
The rest scatter and run, aware of being followed by him like prey.
He knows where they are. He feels where they are.
He can hear their irregular heartbeats, their rushed footsteps, he can see the warmth of their bodies in contrast to the cool summer air. He catches up to every one of them, tearing out their guts onto the grass.
He hates them.
Anger dies down and reality sets in as Jack walks back into the building.
He stands in front of Jenny's split body, staring down at the gore and at his hands...claws. His skin is tinged a cold grey, like a corpse.
Her organs look appetizing.
What am I thinking?
Crouching down, he digs into the guts and pulls out a kidney.
What the fuck am I doing?
He's holding it in his palm, his mind registering the situation.
Please... Why?
Why does he want to eat it?
That's...inhuman.
But, he feels famished. Like this is his first meal in decades.
Saliva pools in his mouth the longer he stares and he finally lifts the organ to his mouth. He pauses, breathing in as the kidney is inches from his tongue, feeling it split into three, drooling down his face.
He bites in, but spits it out immediately.
Not because he didn't like it, but because it's the most delicious thing he's eaten.
He's sick. He needs more. He bites into the kidney, swallowing it. Bile builds up, and as a cold sweat passes through his nerves, he forcefully makes himself throw up on the floor.
What is he doing? He's a monster.
Shaking, he stands up and walks up the platform again, your lone body still unresponsive.
Of course they took your heart. Smashed it into a pulp and then poured salt into the wound.
Shaking claws reach for your hands and his knees hit the floor roughly. With the utmost of gentleness, his lips press into your knuckles.
Black tar drips down your arms.
It takes a moment for him to register those are his tears.
Whatever was supposed to be summoned, failed.
Jack took the form, he supposes from the claws and greyed skin, not bearing to look at himself just yet. But you, you stayed the same. They've just disfigured you.
Leaning his head into your hand he's holding, softly calling your name and begging you to wake up, he stays like that for hours, then he stands up having cried out his soul.
His throat is hoarse, raspy from the overexertion. Demonic. His voice has a resonant tone now, animalistic and with reverberation.
Your body is wrapped into the white sheet you’re laid on, then Jack lifts you.
He can’t accept your death. Your body can’t be dead, there’s warmth inside of you. He knows it, can feel it.
You just need time, you’ll wake up. He knows you will.
Carrying you out of the wretched building, away from the ritualistic aftermath, Jack’s own body is exhausted to the point he can barely hold himself up.
Laying you down onto the grass by the forest, away from the corpses he slaughtered, he follows as he curls around you.
Dawn breaks out in the horizon.
He has no energy, the hunger in his stomach growing deeper.
He is a monster now. Is it even worth living?
For what?
Holding your face, he leans his head onto yours. He begs your name in hushed cries.
“You will survive… you will...”
He stays lying by you.
Even with drool slipping out of him and the black tar uncomfortably leaking out of his hollow eye sockets down his face and neck.
The sun hits high noon, the rays flicker through the leaves and dance around you beautifully.
Jack lifts his head, calling your name again and shaking you.
“Forgive me.” He unfolds the white sheet over your chest.
The salt has melted into your internal flesh, skin healed with a pure white scar marking the whole middle of your chest, reminding of the sun.
Yet, you do not wake.
The pain in Jack’s stomach is becoming unbearable. The hunger is making him faint, falling in and out of consciousness.
He’s failed you.
Scrambling up, he heads to the inside of the building, his claws gutting out the organs out of the corpses, swallowing down their flesh with struggling breaths.
He smashes every one of their hearts, tearing them apart further with his canines.
He's starting to hallucinate your voice calling out his name.
Covered in crimson, his form claws at the floor, holding in the nausea as his mind curses him, calling him a monster, a demon. This is wrong on so many levels, it should not even be possible for him to be alive. He doesn't have the right to be alive. This is punishment for messing with old religions. Innocent and forced, Jack's body was still involved as a culprit as the intended vessel.
Black tar spills from him again, making him hunch over the floor.
A warm body approaches him from behind, dragging and walking with struggle. He stays curled, not bearing to look up if it's truly a hallucination.
He hears static in his head, clawing at his temple and down his face as a broken sob leaves him.
A weight fall onto his back with a struggled breath, hugging his shoulders as he breaks down, cursing, crying, the tar uncomfortably dripping down his face and-
Another strong flash of lighting lights up the room. The bracelet is too small for his arm now, but he would never throw it away. It's his last piece of humanity he keeps.
Why did he remember that?
He turns his back away from the window, pulling up the blanket over his head.
The bedroom door creaks open, his senses surprised he didn't notice anyone nearing his room until now.
Thunder flashes over a figure, a silhouette he'd recognize in the dark closes the door and shakes off rain droplets onto the floor, smiling at him as he peeks over the blanket.
"Hey... mission went well, we finished up earlier than expected." You shrug off the layers of wet and blood covered clothing onto the floor while he sits up, turning on the nearby lamp to offer you more light.
You move swiftly, picking up comfortable, dry and cleaner clothes from the closet and moving to the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the room.
Jack lays back down, listening to the sound of your now noticeable movement, accompanied with slight humming of a song.
By the time you're done, he's sleepy.
You stand by the corner of his bed and he flicks up the blanket, holding it up with his arm while you jump in.
Covering both of you with the blanket, pulling you close as he can to his body, practically molding you into one, Jack rests his head onto your torso.
Your heartbeat is nonexistent, chest empty of the source. But you're with him, have always been.
He's your heart now. Your source of life, as you are his.