𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖗 | ᴄᴏʀᴘꜱᴇ ʜᴜꜱʙᴀɴᴅ x ᴏᴄ | ʙᴏᴏᴋ ᴏɴᴇ

The Lifeboat

Jack tried to take Violet's advice and keep his irrational thoughts at bay, but with his packed schedule, neurotic perfectionism, and hardly ever sleeping, things had taken a turn. His anxiety was getting to the point that his entire chest would ache and he felt like he couldn't even breathe. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint his friends on their streams, or release a half-assed song, or even let his coworkers down by calling out once again. More than anything though, he desperately wanted to prove that he was stable; that if Violet did give him a chance, she wouldn't regret it because he was a psychotic, deadbeat, addict. He felt more than just burnt out, he felt almost defeated by it all.

By night three of not sleeping, the irritation of lying awake and replaying memories of every mistake he'd ever made was beginning to peak. The frustration felt almost violent with all the intrusive thoughts. He silently cursed, throwing his head back into the pillow and grabbing his phone- anything to stop the thoughts from spiraling. The looming anticipation for the next day's deadlines hovered over him as he scrolled aimlessly through all his apps, desperate to find something that would both take his mind off of everything, and calm him enough to fall asleep.

It all seemed pointless, he couldn't have even a few seconds of peace before the feeling of dread set back in. He needed to be up in four hours since he'd agreed to join Rae's stream pretty early in the morning, then he needed to head in for his shift at the bar, and if he had time still he needed to work on his music. He also knew he couldn't go radio silent on Violet again, not that he ever wanted to, but he needed to stay present and stable with her.

He tried his best to fight off the urge to relapse- but he desperately wanted to sleep. The melatonin pills didn't work anymore, nor did the cough syrup, and while the gleaming bottle of brown liquid on his desk wasn't the best solution, it was a solution.

The next morning had him in a heavier head fog than usual. Getting four hours of alcohol induced sleep in nearly a week made the anxiety of being on a stream 100 times worse than usual. He couldn't tell if his jumpy demeanor was from the tremors of his shot nerves giving out, a reaction to the mild sleep-deprived hallucinations he saw, or after-math from the vivid nightmare he'd managed to have in the little sleep he had gotten.

He tried to stay relatively quiet, sipping whiskey like it was his saving grace while his friends happily chatted and bantered in between games. Once he'd worked himself up to getting tipsy again, he tried joking along with them, but they quickly took notice. Normally, he could shrug off their uncomfortable disregard of his jokes but today it bit into him, making him fall quiet once again as his gut churned with regret. Why did he even open his fucking mouth? They'd be much more understanding had he just been quiet and apologized later for having anxiety.

Once the stream ended he sent Rae a quick apology over discord, which he also immediately regretted- debating and cringing over if he was making it weird or not- before getting changed into his uniform for work. He didn't bother looking in the mirror before leaving- he knew it would only make him feel worse. Instead he took another long swig from the bottle on his desk and headed out.

Once he got to work, regret seeped through him like toxic waste. The bar was absolutely slammed, people yelling and shouting as all the TV's were set to a live football game, the first since the pandemic had 'ended'. He took a deep breath and headed to the breakroom, readjusting his mask and taking a deep breath before clocking in.

The shift was going exactly as expected two hours in. He'd endured countless screaming patrons in his face, his coworkings frantically scrambling and yelling, and several drinks spilled on him. He pushed out drinks as fast as he could, with hundreds more coming in just as quickly. He couldn't keep up with the orders and his coworkers needing his manager code for the onslaught of assholes demanding free drinks or write offs. He gave his code to the shift lead and quickly excused himself making his way to the employee bathroom. He needed something to get him through this shift from hell.