![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hennessysTitle: Week
Rating: PG
Summary: Jack doesn't take loss well.
Warnings: depression, implied death, implied suicide.
Notes: Yeah. Sorry.
AU: Loss
He wakes up on the first day and doesn't feel anything.
He wakes up on the second day and this time, everything hurts. Pain like shards of broken glass, like razor blades filling his heart, so bad he pulls the blankets over his head and hopes it'll go away.
He wakes up on the third day and nope, it still hurts. At least it's not the sharp slashing pain anymore. Now it's like the deep ache of a broken bone and the bruised skin above it.
He wakes up on the fourth day and knows it's never going to heal. Why should it, anyway? Felix is gone. What's there left to heal?
He wakes up on the fifth day to fourteen missed calls. There's probably fourteen voicemail messages too, seven from each sister, each increasingly frantic. He doesn't answer them. His parents don't call, they show up at his front door, knocking and calling his name. He lies in bed and listens to their voices until they finally go away.
He wakes up on the sixth day and everything is quiet, even in his head. He's depressed, he can recognize that, but it's darker, bleaker, than it's ever been before. The ache has settled in for good, a bruise around his heart that hurts with every beat. Thinking is hard. Breathing is hard. He just wants it all to stop.
On the seventh day, he doesn't wake up.
Rating: PG
Summary: Jack doesn't take loss well.
Warnings: depression, implied death, implied suicide.
Notes: Yeah. Sorry.
AU: Loss
He wakes up on the first day and doesn't feel anything.
He wakes up on the second day and this time, everything hurts. Pain like shards of broken glass, like razor blades filling his heart, so bad he pulls the blankets over his head and hopes it'll go away.
He wakes up on the third day and nope, it still hurts. At least it's not the sharp slashing pain anymore. Now it's like the deep ache of a broken bone and the bruised skin above it.
He wakes up on the fourth day and knows it's never going to heal. Why should it, anyway? Felix is gone. What's there left to heal?
He wakes up on the fifth day to fourteen missed calls. There's probably fourteen voicemail messages too, seven from each sister, each increasingly frantic. He doesn't answer them. His parents don't call, they show up at his front door, knocking and calling his name. He lies in bed and listens to their voices until they finally go away.
He wakes up on the sixth day and everything is quiet, even in his head. He's depressed, he can recognize that, but it's darker, bleaker, than it's ever been before. The ache has settled in for good, a bruise around his heart that hurts with every beat. Thinking is hard. Breathing is hard. He just wants it all to stop.
On the seventh day, he doesn't wake up.
