Chapter Text
Chapter One
~JACK~
A lonely man wandered through his living room, barefoot. Salt water glistened in his eyes.
65 missed calls.
Jack Abbot had tried, and was stupidly unsuccessful, to stop looking at his phone. But he succumbed. The device flooded him with artificial light.
3:30am
August 4th
Robby hasn't answered me in a month. The realisation dug into him like a scalpel. Sunken in the sofa, he felt heaviness weigh on him. From the bright skylines, sunlight bled.
Why hadn’t he called back? Had Jack done something wrong?
Each breath grew more jagged and unstable than the last. He massaged his stub of a leg firmly. Something wasn’t right. Gasps broke out of Jack's lips, ones he couldn’t control.
“No.” He said aloud, as if he could tame the helplessness that pooled in his chest. Robby was his best friend. And the one who’d taken the reigns of his mind since their first day of med school.
Abbot had been up for 4 days straight. Food? Not an issue. Shelter? Lord knows he wouldn’t take that for granted again. Sleep? Jack didn’t sleep. He was a Night Crawler — the man had things to do! Like close his eyes against the shatter of missiles in his head. Like sip piping hot black coffee.
Like ruminate on Micheal Robinavitch.
Daytimes were ok, before Robby left— He took comfort in the fact his friend was needed somewhere. At the Pitt, the man was in high demand, and Jack hoped he’d be distracted. Everyone knew Robby’s mind wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. But neither was Jack’s. That’s why they stuck to each other like glue. The pair had...thoughts. Ideations, Jack’s therapist called it. Ones that made a man ride a motorcycle without a helmet. Which happened to be the gossip-worthy hobby of Micheal’s.
Through force of habit, his hands found the smooth black ring that seemed to latch onto his finger. Memories of his late wife draped over him like the rays of sun. Her pillowy soft hair, her radiant laugh...
Sometimes— and it hurt for Jack to admit — he wished he could forget her.
Abbot shook his head. Beyond, it was so bright: yellow and orange blossomed in the horizon, but inside, Jack was blue. His stomach was in knots, incoherent mumbles burst from his lips. He wanted to chuck his phone out the window. What a relief it would be! Instead, he brought it into his hands. Robby’s contact came into view. His profile was that familiar face: coal-black beard, tufts of hair Jack had roughed-up with his hands. His pale skin was flushed orange in the restaurant glow. Glasses framed the most magnetic, brown eyes. His crow’s feet told a five-decade-old tale of happiness. And a smile, that could only be described as pure love. It revealed a life well spent. Crying, almost-dying, and kissing every crease in Abbot’s skin—
As Jack had taken that picture, he remembered thinking he’d die if he ever lost the sight of Robby.
Fuck.
The man cleared his throat, thumb trembling over the call button. Could he be gone already? He refused to believe it. Robby would’ve left a note, a voicemail... something.
I tried so hard.
The past month, Jack’s mind had circled to many a pep talk he'd given his friend. Comforting words in the operating room, drowned in the relentless beeps of monitors. Their argument at the ambulance bay. That not-so-silent night on the rooftop, where Jack had eased Robby out of giving up. He should’ve tried harder. It was his fault. If he’d done a better job at persuading, Robby would still be in his arms. Instead, his best friend was miles away. But distance never lasted between the two, so Jack remained as patient as possible. Still, guilt tugged at his heartstrings. Jack should’ve had a firmer grip on the man’s shoulder, and walked him slower to the bar. He should’ve kissed him beneath 4th of July fireworks.
There’s no point, Mike.
He thought, giving a mournful chuckle,
You’ll live forever in my head.