Still Strung out on You

The wait for Jack was so long, it felt as though years had passed since I last saw him. It felt as though time had slowed down, just to make me suffer without Jack that little bit longer. It sucks. I decided that I would try to sleep for a bit, just while I'm not being sick. My mom kept coming up to check on me. It was becoming nearly impossible to go to sleep at all. If I'm not throwing up, my mom decides to walk in everytime I'm almost asleep and starts fussing about over me.

I feel as though I haven't eaten for about six years, but I ate yesterday. Not once have I eaten today. Just the smell of food made my stomach churn. Even just the thought of food was making me feel a bit queazy. I really hate being poorly, because then I can't eat and eating is the only activity that I love to do with all my heart (as well as Jack when we were together).

I think I finally drifted off to sleep with no interruptions from my mom or the need to be sick at about half past three to four o'clock. It didn't last very long, but hey, a couple of hours is better than no sleep at all I guess. However, I would appreciate it if my body allowed me to sleep for a hell of a lot longer. But it won't. Because it sucks dicks. Like Jack does. Literally.

Um, what the fuck am I thinking about?

A few hours after I'd finally dropped off to sleep, my body woke me up just in time so that I could run to the bathroom again. For the few seconds that I'd stopped throwing up, I heard the door open downstairs and voices flooded the hallway. Soon after I heard the voices, I heard what sounded like a herd of elephants running up the stairs. Obviously it was Jack. I was happy that I'd finally get to see the beauti- um, I mean, my friend again, even though I was sick.

The door of the bathroom opened really, really slowly. The footsteps that padded towards me were so quiet. I wouldn't have know anyone was walking in if I hadn't seen the streak of light shining through the crack in door. I felt a hand cautiously touch my shoulder and a voice almost whisper.

"Hey, Alex." It was Jack, and it would be a lie if I said I wasn't over the moon the see and hear him.
"Hey, Jack."
"How are you feeling?"
"Like shit, ugh." I groaned, because, well... I was pretty fed up with feeling like shit right now.
"Aw, babe. Come on, let's get you back in to your bedroom." Babe? Did Jack seriously just call me babe? Wow, um, okay then... (I'd be lying if I say I didn't get butterflies... Fuck)
"Okay, help me up"
"Okay."

He reached over to me, grabbing onto both of my arms, as soft as he could to make sure he didn't hurt me, before beginning to pull me to my feet. He finally got me to my feet, but it was painfully slow. I'm guessing he just didn't want to upset my stomach again. But I'm not gonna lie, I could get up on my own faster than that. But he was just being nice and caring, like he used to be when we were together and I was sick.

He took me over to my bed and I laid down. He laid down next to me so that he was spooning me. It was nice. I have definitely missed this. You know, the caring Jack that stopped at nothing to make you feel better. It used to be "our" little thing to snuggle with the other when one was poorly. It was always a snuggle and a kiss, which Jack may or may not have sort of kinda pressed a gentle kiss on my temple. The feelings were too overwhelming right now, Jesus Christ.

"What was that for, Jack?"
"I don't know. I didn't mean to, I'm sorry."
"We're just friends at the moment, I've told you, we'll try again soon."
"I know, I'm sorry. Go to sleep, you might feel better in the morning."
"Ok, by the way you look so hot right now. I noticed you dressed up for me." I winked at him before turning over and closing my eyes.

I had to slip in the fact that I had in fact noticed he had dressed up for me, and that he look super hot -- (and beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, out of this world, fantastic, amazing, cute, adorable, perfect... The list could go on... And I shouldn't be thinking of him like this when we're just friends) -- somewhere before we slept. Or tried sleeping at least. At least then he wouldn't feel as though his efforts were put to waste. Because they sure as hell weren't.

I fell asleep with images, flashbacks and memories of me and Jack when we were together and I came to a realisation that actually I want him back. R-e-a-l-l-y badly. So badly that there's a pretty huge ache in my chest due to my longing for him which seems to grow as each day passes by.

Maybe, just maybe, I can get him back sooner than I originally was going to, because now we're friends again, I realised that I can live without him, but without him I'll be miserable at best. And, yes. Yes I did just quote Mayday Parade's song 'Miserable At Best'. I can guarantee that within the next few weeks that I will have him back. And this time, things will be on MY terms. Which is basically no cheating, because I love the guy too much to restrict him from doing his own thing except the cheating. Because I don't think he realises just how much it hurts when the love of your life cheats on you. It makes you question everything you had together -- "Did it mean nothing?" "Am I not good enough?" "Was it my fault?" -- but hopefully that wont happen again.

And then I finally drifted off to a peaceful sleep.