Lifestyles of the Rich and the Famous

When Jack and I pulled into my driveway, the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon. I carried May while Jack took their bags and followed me up to my room.

I placed May gently in my bed, tucking her and Beverly in tightly. I brushed some hair from her face. I wish I could do more. When I turned around, Jack had his arms folded, fists clenched tightly. I could nearly hear his mind chugging away furiously as he tried to calm himself. His eyes were distant, focused on something specific that was no where in sight. When his jaw clenched just a fraction tighter, I knew he was living the evening's events all over again.

“Jack,” I whispered taking a slow step towards him. His eyes snapped to me immediately and I watched some of the fire die, but not enough of it was drowned. I gestured towards my bathroom. He turned and stalked inside. I followed, and shut the door behind me gently.

He stood in the same position, but faced the wall opposite me. All I saw were tensed shoulder blades and quivering fists, tucked into his armpits. I took a quiet breath before speaking.

“Jack.” Nothing. No indication I was heard, not even a grunt of acknowledgment. “Are you ok?” Are you fucking kidding moron? “S-Sorry, stupid question. I, um...” His quiet was unsettling. A miasma of his rage was encasing the room, setting my nerves on edge. “Jack, please,” I asked quietly, not really sure what I was begging for. No matter what it was I unknowingly wanted, I didn't get it. I got earsplitting silence. I got suffocating anger.

Then all at once, Jack spun on me. He stalked toward me, feet moving fast, eyes burning, hands quaking, hot furious tears brimming. “This is bullshit,” he growled.

And just like the first time it happened, I back peddled as fast as I could, shrinking away from the menace in his gaze. In three steps my back hit the door. All I could do was watch, wide-eyed, as Jack brisked closer, and before I could blink–

I cautiously lifted my eyes to meet his. He stared down at me from an inch away, an unrecognizable fire in his eyes. The silence was deafening. I took a breath to speak, but I hadn't even figured out what to say when Jack moved.

One hand fisted in my collar, the other flung to press into the door just beside my head. I swallowed, convinced I was going to be held in the air by shirt, like Tom has once tried to do, but nothing happened. I watched a muscle in Jack's jaw twitch as he panted. Seconds slowed and blurred all at once as I mentally prepared for whatever act of violence my best friend was clearly unable to contain for much longer. Maybe he'll slam me back into the door. The hand in my shirt trembled. Maybe he'll throw me into the opposite wall. I squeezed my eyes shut. Maybe he'll-

Time skipped, or maybe it just happened too fast, but all I know is that the violence didn't come, and it took my head a moment to accept that wonderful fact.

However, once I had accepted that I wasn't getting beaten, I realized Jack had moved. He had gotten impossibly closer, pressing my back into the door until it's shiny new hinges groaned in protest. My hands had flattened on his chest, ready to push him away, but before I could open my eyes, I felt warmth on my cheek. Then it flushed down my body. Then I realized my hands were squished. Then I realized, so was the hand Jack still clenched around my shirt. Then I realized it was Jack, all of Jack pressing me into the door. All this realization came one at a time in a fraction of a second, until finally, I realized there was weight on my lips, and I was kissing my best friend with more force than I could remember putting towards anything I'd ever done.

Notes

Whoops. - Anna