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Kennedy was sick. The type of sick that landed him straight into bed with a bucket right next to him. Luckly, his gay foster dads had taken care of it when needed, but god it was rancid.
And just of course, this happened the day he planned to throw a house party. With parental consent of course. He very much values his dads and would hate to make them angry. Although he has to hide that a bit at school, much to his hate for it. Why couldn't people just be a little bit more open minded!
And, he couldn't possibly cancel the party! He doesn't wanna be known as “The guy who cancels parties”! It’s an absolute pain. He was the guy who kept these kind things alive. The one who made these things happen. Gandhi too but, god, he's a loser. Friends with ol’ Pennyface. No one wants to hang out with them. Except Joan. What did she see in them of all people? If he didn’t know better, she should start hanging with guys like him. And maybe drop the whole “goth” look. Not that he was against it of course. But a lot of the other guys would be less than thrilled. It was… odd to say the least. Cleo’s a good example of what to shoot for.
But, he had to keep his image, that being the party. The show must go on. Even if he’s coughing up blood.
Kennedy sluggishly sat up and glanced at the clock, 8:30 PM, everyone should probably be here by now and beyond. And he should be there too. Not stuck in his bed, locked away from the party that he hosted. He let out a loud groan and flopped back down, used napkins scattered on his bed from when he was too lazy to throw them in the trash.
He stared at the ceiling, feeling unsatisfied. That’s not what he wanted to be seeing right now. Maybe some hot girls and the stupid stuff that occurred at parties, not the ceiling that he'll now associate with a sickly feeling and missing out on his sweet, sweet, teen years!
He stared at it for a while, letting time pass blankly. It either went by insanely fast when he did this, or like he was crawling up a set of stairs with a broken leg. No in-between. And right now, it really seems that the broken leg metaphor is winning.
He sighed, this was hell. Maybe he could sleep off the sickness and mental pain this seemed to cause. He closed his eyes, hoping to wake up the next day, feeling fine. With the party having gone smoothly and everyone assuming that he had been off nailing some chick. But just a bit after he initially closed his eyes…
A knock sounded on the door. The sound rang in his ears, making him groan. He opened his eyes, his eyebrows burrowing with displeasure. Just what he needed right now.
Before he could even open his mouth to respond, the door opened.
Joan was standing there, looking like, well, herself. And she was with Abe. Kennedy opened his mouth in disbelief. Joan, what are you doing?! He thought. You know I don’t like Abe!
He was the last person he wanted to see, especially sick. He adjusted his head to look at them from a better angle, not wanting to sit up again. Abe wasn’t worth the work to do so.
Joan had her arm around Abe. Kennedy groaned. He knew that he does that… alot… but it looks so wrong with Abe. And Joan. Abe looked uncomfortable however. Tense in her grasp, not wanting to be here. And Joan had a cocky smile on her face.
“Hey JFK, Abe’s being a butthead so I’m leaving him with you. I know you’re sick and all but you don’t wanna be seen with Abe at your party sooo…” Joan said before suddenly pushing Abe into Kennedy’s room.
“Hey-!” Kennedy had started, but Joan had already slammed the door, cutting him off. That girl…
Abe stood awkwardly in the middle of his room, from both nervousness of being in JFK’s room and the fact that Joan had pushed him and made him stumble to a stop. And speaking of being in JFK’s room… he didn’t like him at all! Now he was alone with him…
Once Kennedy was done mentally rambling about the whole thing, his attention turned to Abe. “You! What cha’ do to end up here!? If my party’s screwed, your face is too!” He threatened, putting his hand up in a weak little fist. God he hated being sick. But the point got across as Abe tensed and backed a bit, putting his hands up in a small and pleading manner.
“Look Kennedy, I was just talking to Gandhi and Joan pulled me aside and brought me here. I think I should just go…” He said, already inching for the door. Kennedy smirked. Weak.
“Yeah, go. Joan’s gonna pound you if you do, heh heh…” He taunted, but Abe stopped in his tracks. Kennedy’s smirk faltered. He had scared Abe out of leaving. Damn! He mentally slapped himself. Abe stood there, looking more nervous and now confected than ever. Kennedy looked him over for a moment before sighing. “So you’re staying…” He stated, acknowledging Abe’s pitiful decision.
Kennedy thought to himself. Abe’s stuck with him because he’s too much of a baby to leave. And it’s his room, so he couldn't exactly have a space for himself. Joan was obviously up to something here. Her face gave it away. He frowned, still pondering on all this, but a coughing fit then caught him. He’s been getting a lot of those since he’s been sick.
Abe frowned and cringed a bit as he watched Kennedy practically cough his lungs out. His hands instinctively both reached out and he took a step forwards to comfort him, but then he remembered who he was dealing with and backed once again. “You’re sick…” He muttered, mainly to himself.
“Yeah, sick of you!” Kennedy shot at him between coughs. God he hated being like this. Especially in front of Abe. He felt weaker than him! His coughs sputtered to a slow and painful stop and he looked back at Abe. His eyes had tears formed in the corners from just how hard he was coughing. Abe noticed and felt almost a pang of shock at the sight of JFK, of all people, with tears in his eyes. That's not something you see everyday. Kennedy must have caught on because he groaned and wiped his eyes hard enough to make his face a bit red.
“I don’t know why Joan sent you up here but I don’t want you here! I’m sick and can hardly do anything! Just…” He trailed off as Abe hesitantly walked over to the side of his bed and looked down at him. “L-look, when Joan was walking me up here she told me something. She told me to make you feel better. I… don’t know…” Kennedy was now staring at Abe, confusion written all over his face. Joan. Joan of Arc. Sent Abe, of all people here to make him feel better. Why not Ponce or even herself!? Come on Joan! He looked at Abe. Not the best “Get better soon” card she could have sent. Maybe even the worst.
Abe saw his confusion and stirred a bit. “I don’t know why Joan wanted me to, but I don’t wanna make her disappointed either.” He said, slowly sitting down on Kennedy’s bed and trying not to touch any of the used tissues on the bed. Kennedy eyed him as he sat down, but didn’t say anything. Abe observed him, trying to see how he was feeling, other than just sick. Kennedy saw this and looked away, a small frown on his face. Abe also frowned. “Well, uh, what would make you feel better?”
Not seeing you. Kennedy thought, but he didn’t say anything. “I dunno.” He simply said, crossing his arms and glaring back at Abe. Abe hummed, at least he was getting an answer. “What?” Abe started, a small smirk on his face. “Not even punching me in the face over Cleo?” He said. Kennedy frowned. “Don’t you talk about Cleo. And I would if I wasn’t so darn sick.” He snarled, narrowing his eyes. He stayed quiet, just looking at Abe with something close to resentment. And he did so for a while.
“... The only reason you’re not leaving is because of Joan huh?” Kennedy then said, his frown faltering a bit and his tone now a bit soft.
Abe’s eyebrows shot up a bit at the change in his voice. He nodded hesitantly, looking over Kennedy’s face. “Uh, yeah. That’s correct.” He responded. Kennedy looked down, letting out a small hum in return. “You care about her?” He half asked, quieter than before. Abe nodded, giving Kennedy a quiet “Yeah.” Kennedy nodded at his answer and looked up at Abe. His expression was a lot less threatening than it once was, but that small frown remained.
“She cares a lot about you. And that stupid friend of yours.” He said, his voice returning back to his normal speaking voice, yet he still sounded softer than usual. He slowly sat up, ignoring the sick feeling in him that was begging him to lay back down. “A lot actually. Lot more than I like.” He continued, elbowing Abe in a not-so kind manner, but it was soft and only caused Abe to let out a small grunt. “Lot more than she does for me. You’re lucky.” He said, his frown deepening.
Abe saw this and frowned too. Made him feel a bit guilty. He didn’t realize how Kennedy felt about Joan’s focus on him and Gandhi. Abe rested his hand on Kennedy’s back, keeping it there as he leaned a bit closer. Kennedy raised an eyebrow at this but didn’t say anything. “Kennedy, I… didn’t realize this had such an effect on you. Why do you want her attention…?” Abe asked, looking him in the face, expecting a… certain answer.
“Because… well I ain't too sure. Well she's hot and all but, I dunno this feels a bit different. I hit on her many times and that doesn’t work. She just… fights back! It’s a nice wake up sure but, nothings gonna stop a Kennedy!” Kennedy answered, a small smile on his face. He gave Abe a playful punch in the arm. It made Abe smile too. Not just from his playfulness either. But from surprise and almost relief at how he talked about Joan… maybe Kennedy didn’t just want to get at Joan because she looked nice and he wanted her. And it seems he wasn’t totally defeated here over his failures.
“Yeah well… maybe I can do something for you. For you and Joan.” Abe said, giving Kennedy a small punch back. Much weaker than Kennedy had delivered but still. Kennedy’s smile grew. “Really?” He asked, his voice filled with hope. Abe nodded. Now Kennedy was grinning that toothy grin that everyone knew him for. “Geez, uh... look… I owe ya for this. Something. Don’t know yet.” He said, his grin slowly being replaced for something softer. It made Abe melt a bit.
“Just… keep this private please. This could ruin my reputation. Plus, if the guys see me close to a loser like you they might think I'm… gay or something. Especially you after your whole thing with Gandhi.” Kennedy said. Abe’s eyebrows shot up. People would think that…? …Well. He nodded, not wanting that outcome. He knows how much it sucks.
Kennedy laughed and relaxed back, holding himself up with his arms as he looked at Abe. “Right… now scram. I had… a good talk. Thanks, by the way.” He said, looking to the side, feeling a bit embarrassed by the whole thing now that it was coming to an end. This mushy stuff wasn’t common for him, except with Ponce. Abe smiled. “No problem.” He said, standing up from Kennedy’s bed. It was weird to see Kennedy like this… he couldn't help staring.
Kennedy noticed and only grew more embarrassed. His face turned a bit red. “Hey, I said scram! Don’t make me take all this back!” He threatened, raising his voice a bit, although it wavered a bit. But it got the message across and Abe straightened up and nodded. He turned to walk out the door and Kennedy quickly made a move and gave him a small slap to the behind. Just playfully. Nothing else. Kennedy smirked as Abe made a small noise and began to walk noticeably faster towards the door.
“Cleo’s mine though!” Kennedy yelled as Abe opened the door and walked out, shutting it on his way out. He stared at his door a few moments after Abe left, thinking about all that happened…
Huh. That was a bit weird.