Too Much of Anything

After I was allowed to leave the hospital, with no idea of a place I called home, Jack invited me to stay over at his. That whole car journey from the hospital to his apartment was an absolute nightmare, Zack kept on arguing with Jack the whole time.

'You don't understand what you're doing to yourself, Jack. Why don't you get by now that doing something like this isn't going to help with anything?'

Jack tried to retaliate back, but his retorts seemed to become smaller and smaller. It's like he gave up on listening to what Zack said.

Whenever I tried to speak up, say anything to the people who I thought were my best friends, Zack would glare at me like I was a convict in his police car and Jack would stare back at me with the saddest eyes I've ever seen. Everything felt so different, but not in a good way and I didn't have a clue how to deal with it.

Rian was in the car with us too, by the way. Apparently he lived near their apartment so he wanted a lift. I'd been scared that he would treat me the same way too, but his reaction towards me was different. When he found out that I was suffering from amnesia he only looked at me sympathetically. He was sitting next to me now, a worried expression etched across his face.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay around mine?" he asked, the car went quiet and I could tell that Zack was urging me to say yes. For some reason he didn't want me and Jack to be in the same room together, let alone the same apartment. I didn't know what to say, and again I found myself in a situation where I felt helpless.

It was Jack, surprisingly, who rescued me from drowning inside my own head. "Your house stinks, Rian, that will probably only make Alex's amnesia worse."

I find myself laughing at this comment, not full out hysterics, but sweet little giggles that leave my lips and I could see from the reflection of the rear view mirror that Jack's smiling. This smile was wiped away in an instant when he came to the traffic lights turning a bright red.

"Where the hell is he going to sleep if he stays around ours?" Zack brought up the topic again, "There's hardly enough room for him."

I had a feeling that there probably was, but Zack was finding any excuse now to stop me from staying over.

I really began to wonder what I did for Zack to hate me this much.

Jack's eyes were straight on the road, his focus straining from his driving as his eyebrows furrowed in a way that showed that he was deep in thought. "He can sleep in my bed, I'll sleep on the couch."

I leaned forward a slight bit, my seat belt constraining me. I felt a sudden need to want to hug Jack as a thank you. But something stopped me, and I fell back into my seat again, wondering why the thought of body contact with Jack made my own skin crawl with grief.

"You don't have to do that, Jacky!" The nickname was out of my mouth again, and saying it didn't feel right at all, "I can happily sleep on the couch...or we could just share that bed."

I didn't mean it as anything suggestive, but by saying that I had caused something that should have never occurred. Jack's hands were shaking on the wheel, his eyes suddenly widening as Zack and Rian both looked at me and then at each other.

"Alex, just shut up alright!" Jack finally managed to muster a reply, leaving me stunned and speechless.

Jack doesn't yell at me like that, not from what I remember at least.

What the hell did I do to make him shout at me?

My heart felt like it was about to rip right out of my body via my throat and for a second, I felt extremely sick. "I was only joking about, Jack," This was almost inaudible.

I heard Zack snort at me and from that action I really did become suffocated by everything.

-

"I'm sorry for whatever I did back there to make you upset. Really I am." My eyes were on Jack's and he seemed to be acting very fidgety, like he wanted to be anywhere than talking to me.

We were in his and Zack's apartment and after a good few hours feeling out of place and unwanted, I finally gathered up the courage to talk to Jack. From what I could remember, talking to Jack was easy. It was as easy as breathing. But now, it all feels strained, not like what I remember. He was sitting down on his couch, listening to music and minding his own business. I wondered whether he still listened to the same music from when we were teenagers, or whether that had changed too.

"It's fine, don't worry," he replied monotonously and from that I knew that it certainly was not fine.

Jack was not fine at all.

I stepped closer towards him and by doing this he suddenly sat up, edging away as far as he could from me. That wasn't right. But then again, nothing was.

"Do you hate me?" The question was out before I could stop it.

I'd been wondering this since I woke up, and Jack shouting at me only made me think that maybe he did hate me. But I wanted to hear it from Jack properly, even if that would make this feeling in my gut worse.

Jack couldn't seem to reply back, he was stuck for words and now he was looking down at his knees, as if that was the most interesting thing in the world.

"Surprisingly, I don't."

These words were a sort of relief, even though the way he had acted towards me from the get go made me think otherwise. I was happy that even though something had changed in our friendship in the last five years, he didn't hate me like I thought he did.

But this didn't mean that I wasn't unwelcome here, Jack was different than before and I wasn't too sure whether he wanted me here in the first place. Zack hated me though, that was absolute. I sighed, taking a seat on the couch at the opposite end from where Jack was sitting. The silence between us suddenly felt awkward when before a silence between us would never have mattered.

"So," I started, trying to think of a subject matter to bring up, "Did anyone win that bet then?"

Jack clenched his fists, suddenly whacking me over the head with the nearest thing around him. I took that as a shut up. I could have realized that this retaliation meant something, but I wasn't thinking about that at all. Because I kind of had a clue who won the bet. And it certainly couldn't have been me.

"You keep on asking the worse questions," he muttered, "I forgot how the eighteen-year-old you is like."

A smile stretched across my mouth, "Brilliant, aren't I?"

His eyes met mine for what felt like decades, he'd been avoiding me for so long and now he was looking at me - straight at me. I felt like he was looking deeper into me, not just at my eyes, but into my very being.

I shivered.

I was excepting him to make a sarcastic remark, but all he did was shake his head, chuckling softly to himself. "Yeah, you are."

His eyes were saying something different: I've missed you.

It wasn't long after until he broke that connection between us, changing the atmosphere of the situation as he stood up and stretched his arms up high showing a small section of creamy skin. Jack wasn't Jack anymore, I could tell. He didn't feel like he saw me as his best friend, I think that spot was now taken by Zack. So what was I to him? An acquaintance? An enemy? An ex-friend?

I needed to stop asking so many questions, my head would implode if I carried this on. Jack distracted me from my own mind as he yawned and announced he was going to have a shower. I nodded and leaned back against the sofa, a sudden tiredness overcoming me.

But there was one main question, the one that I thought was completely ridiculous and absurd and absolutely not possible.

What if, though. What if that bet had done all of this, and that's why this is all happening?

What if I screwed everything up because of my own little games.

I guess I am and will always be a joker.