Hell Above

Jack is brushing his teeth in front of the bathroom counter when Alex stumbles in the next morning.

The blonde (albeit a little sluggishly) heads straight for the toilet, before dropping to his knees and throwing up. Jack doesn't say anything, partially because he can’t, what with the toothbrush still in his mouth, and partially because he doesn't want to. Jack spits the rest of the toothpaste out of his mouth, as Alex flushes the toilet. The blonde gets to his feet, hand gripping the counter top next to him for support, and then takes the few steps to stand beside Jack in front of the mirror. Jack just sets his toothbrush down, after rinsing it, and proceeds to hand Alex the mouthwash from inside the cabinet.

Alex takes it, corners of his mouth twitching up in a small thanks to Jack. After Alex is through washing his mouth out, he turns to head back out into the bedroom, but Jack catches his arm. He moves Alex to stand back in front of the mirror, before braving a glance at Alex’s back.

The marks aren't nearly as bad as they seemed last night, but the sight of them still pulls sharply at Jack’s insides. He gulps, tracing a finger across one of the lighter ones. Alex sucks in a breath as Jack does this, back tensing. “Sorry.” Jack says quietly, dropping his hand.

Now that they’re clean and aired out, the cuts are a lot less painful to look at for Jack, and probably much less painful for Alex as well. The skin on the older man’s back is still red though, inflamed around each of the marks where the skin is raised and sore.

Alex just mumbles out “S’okay” before turning and leaving the room. Jack follows him out, heading over to his closet and digging through his shirts until he pulls out a gray button down. Jack frowns down at the shirt, because he would much rather go crawl back into bed than put it on. He sighs, grabbing a pair of khaki pants from the shelves, before heading back out of the walk-in closet. Alex is in the middle of Jack’s bed, curled up under the duvet. He eyes Jack as the younger man strips his shirt off, putting deodorant on before pulling the button down on.

“Where’re you going?” Alex mumbles from his spot under the covers, head just barely visible. Jack finishes buttoning his shirt, and pulls the pants on as well, before turning towards the blonde.

Alex is still watching him, eyes half closed from still being so tired. “I've gotta meet my dad for lunch.”

Alex nods in response before snuggling further into the sheets, eyes slipping closed. Jack glances to the clock, noting that he’s only got about 10 minutes until he needs to leave, and then making his way out into the kitchen. He takes his time as he makes coffee, leaning up against the counter and waiting for it to be done. He rubs at his eyes, trying to wake up just a bit more, but it’s useless considering he only got a few hours sleep. Once the coffee is done, he pours two cups, heading back into the bedroom and setting one down on the nightstand next to his bed. Alex is still curled up, mostly covered by Jack’s black comforter. His hair is splayed out across Jack’s pillow, eyes shut tight. Alex doesn't open his eyes as Jack sets the cup down, so the younger reaches over and shoves his shoulder lightly.

One eye opens, eyebrow scrunching in annoyance at Jack disturbing him. “I made you coffee.” At the mention of this, Alex sits up, reaching out and grabbing the cup Jack had set down. He mumbles out a quiet thanks, lips meeting the warm liquid. Jack just nods, grabbing his keys off his nightstand before turning to leave. “You’d better be here when I get back.” is all he says.

He hears Alex say something into his drink, sounding very much like a slightly sarcastic ‘Not that I have anywhere else to go.’

Jack just shakes his head, taking a sip of his drink as he leaves the apartment.

-

It’s not that Jack hates his dad. It’s really, really not. Although to most, it may appear that way. It’s more or less just that Jack would rather be anywhere else other than sitting across from his dad at an overly priced restaurant for lunch.

They’re seated at a decent-sized table, sectioned off from the rest of the room, because Jack’s dad likes spending money on unnecessary things. Jack ended up being a few minutes late, obviously due to mulling around and making him and Alex coffee. He told his dad it was because traffic was backed up, even though it wasn't.

Jack can’t find anything he really wants to eat as his eyes scan the menu, so instead he lifts his gaze to watch his father as the older man looks over his own menu. Jack’s father is easily one of the most recognizable and known men in the tri-state area. He’s a tall man, standing a few inches above Jack’s 6’3” frame, with short, perfectly combed hair. The strokes of gray that would normally line the older man’s almost black hair have been dyed over, to keep him looking his prime.

Aside from the honest smile that graces his father’s lined face every now and again, everything else about Jack’s father says business. Every glance, every movement, everything calculated and formal. Jack doesn't hate his father, but he sure as hell hates the way the older man makes him feel inadequate in his presence. It’s a running joke between Alex and him. Jack is the heir to the billions of dollars his father’s company is worth, yet has absolutely no idea how to run a business, and doesn't even really know what his father’s company does.

“So, how have you been lately?” The older Barakat’s voice is gruff, yet still manages to come across friendly, almost warm. Jack redirects his eyes from the man in front of him back down to his menu, just to have some sort of distraction from his father’s now lingering gaze. He takes a few moments to think over the question, mind going back to last night, holding Alex against his chest in his too-spacious bathroom.

“I’ve been good.”

It’s not entirely the truth, but Jack knows it’s what his father would prefer to hear. The older Barakat has never approved of his son befriending a prostitute, thinks it’s bad for his image. It is, but Jack could care less. The two men found a sort of equilibrium a while back; as long as Jack doesn’t mention Alex, his father allows the friendship to continue. Jack meets his father’s eyes again, “You?”

The older man gives a small nod, lips curling up slightly as he replies. “That’s good to hear. I’ve been good as well.” Jack just listens, fidgeting with his hands under the table as his father launches into a tirade about how one of his executives had the nerve to speak against him at last week’s meeting. Jack, honestly, cannot bring himself to follow along to the details, his mind is elsewhere.

Despite knowing that Alex is safe back at his apartment, Jack can’t help but worry. He knows how the older man gets when he’s left alone with his thoughts. Alex, ever since Jack met him at least, has never really liked himself. Jack knows his best friend like the back of his hand, and can understand why Alex has such a hard time liking who he is, even if he completely disagrees with it.

It took Jack quite a while after he and Alex became friends to get the older man to open up to him. Even now, after nearly 5 years of being inseparable, there are still things that Jack has to coax out of Alex. Last night is a prime example of one of those things.

“Son, are you listening?” His father is looking at him now, disapproving eyes focused on Jack from across the table. Jack glances up from his lap, raising his eyes to meet his fathers. The younger is about to answer his father, but is saved by the young woman that appears just as Jack opens his mouth to speak.

“Hello, my name is Taylor and I’ll be your waitress. What can I get for you today?” The girl before them is small, at least a head shorter than Jack, and is dressed in the restaurant’s standard uniform: a black quarter sleeve button down and fitted black dress pants. Jack’s father averts his gaze from his son to the waitress, taking note of the way her brown hair is pulled back tight against her skull into a small, neat bun at the back of her head. The older man relates his order to the girl, both of them turning to face Jack a moment later.

Jack’s eyes flick down to the menu open on the table before him, landing on the ‘pasta’ section. He gives the waitress his order, which happens to be the first dish he comes across. The girl nods, before making her way away from the table.

“Ja-”

Jack doesn’t want to listen to his father chastise him for not listening, so he cuts him off the only way he knows how.

“Have you heard from mom?”

Jack receives a hard look in response to his question. The older Barakat leans forward, clasping his hands together on top of the table. “No.”

Jack sighs, he’s all too used to this answer. Jack’s parents have been separated since the boy was able to walk. It doesn't surprise him that his father has no idea the whereabouts of his wife.

The rest of the meal continues in a somewhat awkward silence, until the older Barakat rises from the table, hands his son a hundred dollar bill, and walks away. Jack sighs in relief once he’s gone. He knew the moment he asked about his mother, that he shouldn't have. It was too late though, once the words were out, and at the same time Jack was genuinely curious if anyone had heard from her.

Jack turns the bill over in his fingers a few times, until the waitress, Taylor, arrives beside him. He hands it over, along with another hundred dollar bill from his own wallet, offering a polite smile to the brunette as he asks, “Could I get a fettuccine to go?”

Taylor nods, returning Jack’s smile with one of her own, dimples full on show. She would be exactly Jack’s type – if he were even interested, but he isn't. The girl walks away again, stopping a few feet away at one of her other tables to assist them, and then continuing on to the kitchen. It’s another ten minutes or so before she returns with his meal, sealed tightly in a thick plastic to-go box. He rises from his seat, taking the box as she hands it over.

When Taylor goes to hand Jack his change, nearly 75 dollars, he shakes his head before pushing it back into her hand. “Keep it.”