My Only One

"Jack!" I pounded on the door of his apartment, recieving an odd stare from an older gentleman that lived next door to him. He hobbled by me on his walker, and shook his head, as if to say he hated the young generation. It's amazing the things I randomly pick up on.

"Jack open up!" My voice cracked, and tears slid down my face. The stinging above my eye increased, as I pressed my hand against it, hoping the blood would stop. It had already ruined my nice white shirt, with three perfect blotches square on my left boob.

If I weren't so upset, I might find it obscurely stylish.

I shook away the thoughts, and continued to pound on the door. "Will you hold on!?" I heard him yell. I could yell he had been sleeping, he's always cranky when he's been sleeping. "Jesus Christ, you'd wake the dead!" He yelled from the other side of the door. He has always had a way with being oblivious to serious situations. I laughed bitterly, and wiped my tears on my short sleeve. I heard the locks on his apartment unlatch, and he swung the door open.

I couldn't help but grin at the sight of him.

He was clad in a pair of plaid boxers. His hair was a disheveled mess. Yup, he had just got up from what looked to be a very harrassed nap. He rubbed his eyes, and I starred at his abs.

Lord, why hadn't seen how great those were earlier. "Pebbles!" He smiled, and opened his arms for me to hug him.

See this is how it always worked with me and Jack. We would argue about something stupid, or money, or... something petty, and then a day later we would drop it. That's just how it's always been, so his warm greeting was not shocking at all. Although, I did ditch his open arms and walked past him into the apartment. He moved away from the door and I shut it closed. A few more tears escaped my eyes.

His face fell.

"What's wrong?" He asked, walking towards me. I bit my lip, and continued to hold my hand against my eyebrow where the cut was. "Why are you holding your head?" He glanced down at my shirt, and his eyes became panicked when he noticed the blotches on my shirt. "Rach?" He asked, and moved to take my hand away from my head.

I felt dizzy, and still couldn't come to terms with what had just happened. He gently pulled my arm away from my head, and I shut my eyes after glancing at the shimmery wet blood all over my hand. I felt another drip ooze down the side of my face. "Fuck!" Jack stammered, and I jumped. He grasped my arms and pulled me towards his couch. I sat down and watched as he paced back and forth, running his hands repeatedly through his hair. "Okay," He said, as if he had finally figured out what he needed to do, and flew from his living room to the kitchen. He came back with a wet dish towel in his hands, and knelt down to press it against my face. He looked directly into my eyes, and took my hand to press it against the towel. "Stay here, I need to go put on some pants." He half smiled, and then pressed a kiss to my forehead.

My stomach fluttered. He's never done THAT before.

I continued to press the towel against my head as I waited. My head began to throb less, and I was hoping the blood would stop soon. I tapped my foot, waiting.

"Okay!" Jack walked out of his room, in a t-shirt and jeans. Man, did he look good!

"I'm sorry I bled on your towel." I muttered, taking it off to show him the white dish cloth that was now red.

He gave me a strange look and laughed, "That's what I gave it to you for... Do you have a concussion or something?" He asked rhetorically.

"Sorry." I muttered. He ignored me and knelt on the ground in front of me. He began looking at the cut on my face.

"What the hell did you do? Take a sword to the eyebrow??" He asked, gingerly putting a finger next to the cut to see how deep it was. I winced. "Sorry," He said quickly, "What happened?" He asked, taking the towel and putting it against my head again. The coolness of it made me feel a little more relaxed.

Tears sprung to me eyes again. "I c-came home." I breathed, "And I sort of said something to my step dad that ticked him off. I didn't see that he had been drinking."

"Oh shit." he muttered under his breath.

"Yeah." I replied and continued. "So, he got a bottle, and smashed it against a chair. I'm not sure if he was aiming for me... or... I don't know." I inhaled a shaky breath and grimaced at the increasing pain in my head again.

"So a piece of it hit you, it looks like?" He asked, but I don't really thing he expected me to answer. I just nodded. Wetness slid down my cheeks.

"I don't know why I said anything to him." I collapsed, hunching over to put my head in my hands. Jack got up and sat next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, like he did that one night in the tree house.

"It's alright." He cooed, taking the towel away from my head. "Relax, just relax." He said, rubbing my arms, trying to make me less tense.

"Fuck, I was so scared." I whispered.

"You're fine." He said. "Your step dad is a fucking prick." Jack's jaw clenched. I stayed silent, and breathed in the safety I felt in his arms. He leaned forward to look at my cut again. "I don't think it needs stitches. You'll probably have a gnarly scar though." He said. We sat in silence for a while until I calmed down.

I finally sighed, breaking the calm scene. "I just want an advil and sleep. Lots of sleep..."

"You can crash here?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "I don't want to be a pain."

He frowned, "I love being around you!" He said.

He shouldn't say those things to me. It makes me crazy.

Jack then retreated back towards the kitchen to get me some asprin. "Hey Jack?" I called out to him before he left the room.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." I smiled. He grinned back at me.

"What are best friends for?"

Fuck.