The Touch of Jack Frost (Weak Hero)

Jack (12-20-22)

Jack's eyes fluttered open pitifully, the overbearing sight of flashing lights blinded him. The seventeen year old boy struggled to remember what had even happened. One minute they were riding on the bike, the next...

Jimmy!

Without a thought, Jack attempted to stand. However, it seemed that his body had failed to compute that order. There was an acute tingling in his legs, steadily spreading up his back like cold shivers. His head was splitting, sharp pain flooded every sense he had as he began to come to. A gasp escaped his constricted chest.

His mouth tasted metallic and familiar. Jack Kang had been socked in the mouth enough times to recognize the taste of blood. Where was it coming from? Did he bite his tongue? Or was it coming from his chest? He hadn't yet coughed so lungs were ruled out right? The world felt both overly in focus and blurry all at once. Like he was laying on his back carelessly while the rest of the world was spinning violently. So much so, he thought he might hurl.

Despite the flashing lights, indicating that someone was indeed here, or had been here, or was pulling up to the horrific scene, nobody had come to check on Jack yet. At least, not that he recalled. Then again, I wouldn't trust a dead man's memory.

A million times Jack had gotten his ass whooped, a million times he'd gotten punched in the face, the gut, the throat, yet never once had he ever remembered it hurting this bad. It felt like he'd been thrown, and looking back on it, it wasn't far from the truth. Again he circled back to Jimmy, maybe he tried to scream. Nobody would've recognized it as such so I suppose it doesn't matter. 

Within the second it seemed, his view was obscured by a shadowy figure, indescribable and blurry. Maybe it wasn't even a real person, just shadows dancing away from flickers of candle light. A hand should've been felt on his neck, on his wrist, on his forehead. Although, Jack didn't feel a thing. Sure he saw the action, but the pressure of another living body touching his skin never occurred. 

Jack was numb from shock.

Also, many, many, broken bones.

That's all.

Long strands of brown hair fell in front of the paramedic's eyes. So long, he wondered if they'd brush his face from where she stayed slouched over him. Her head turned in a less than graceful manner as she mouthed words to, presumably, the others who'd arrived with her. In another world, Jack would've recognized her whispers as screams.

Her eyes were dark black pits against her sand colored skin.

Why was he noting these things? Perhaps the focus of a stranger's being was enough to distract one from an inevitable and terrifying fate.

Another figure appeared in the corner of his view, but Jack hadn't the energy to study him as thoroughly as he had the girl. Instead he closed his eyes, listening as the soft sounds of muffled nothing beckoned to him. Similar to the lull of cars whirling down the highway as you slept. Or the soft coos of crickets and frogs as you camped beneath shimmery stars.

An elevation change and slight shuffle dared him to open his eyes, though now Jack found himself to be a coward. If he were to open his eyes, he would be acknowledging that he stilled lived, while Jimmy hadn't. His heart beat and blood coursed, while that of the person he adored most in the entire world, had ran cold. Jack couldn't bring himself to admit that the world, his world, could still spin without Jimmy.

You may ask, how did he know? Never once did Jack see Jimmy, so how could he possibly know that the boy had already taken his last cold breath?

You're right in a sense, he didn't see Jimmy.

He saw the look on the paramedic's face, both of them.

That was worse.

Jack closed his eyes, he'd gone forever trying to keep in tears. A practice that stayed with him until his dying breaths. Even when he knew that it was over. Even when he knew he'd given up and growing up wasn't worth it without Jimmy, he didn't cry. To him, it wasn't worth it. Tears wouldn't change the numbness of his body. Tears wouldn't change the coldness of Jimmy's.

So he laid there. Quietly. Drifting off into a creeping dark nothingness. Maybe nothing awaited him on the other side of wherever he was now. Or perhaps, everyone who'd lost their lives this month resided somewhere safe and happy. In this make believe, they could still grow up to be wonderful individuals. Or, rather, they could just grow up in general. Jack had lost count of all the funeral invitations he'd received, though he'd kept track of the number he'd attended.

Just one.

Jake's.

Him and Jimmy had been driving back from it actually. They'd gone in casual clothes, and stayed at the back of the entire thing. Jack hadn't wanted to go at all, though Jimmy insisted that with or without him, he'd be in attendance. Jimmy was incredibly insistent, so, like a proper best friend, he went too. Kenny had been there with out of focus eyes studying the integrity of the ground, his crutches made a horrendous squeak every time he walked, so instead he remained seated. Although, there wasn't much walked to be done anyway.

Since it was closed casket.

I'm sure you can assume why.

A woman with long orange hair sobbed into his shoulder, and when he turned away from her grief, tears dripped from her palms as they pressed close to her eyes.

Dean Kwan would've been there; but he couldn't.

Eunchan Hong would've been there; but he couldn't.

Jake's friends couldn't be there. Even Donald Na failed to make an appearance. Jack wondered if that was why Jimmy had felt so strongly about being in attendance. However, he couldn't have been farther from the truth.

"Why did we go?" He asked as they made their way to the parking lot two blocks off, they wouldn't go to the graveside service.

Jimmy took a breath so deep his shoulders shook, "I saw him that day Jack," He began, "Not really though, he wasn't there. Jake walked down the street, eyes downcast and hollow, no smile in sight," He half laughed, "I kept walking as he passed me on the sidewalk, I didn't say a word to him," Jimmy shuttered, "We were down the street from the building that he..."

"It's not your-"

"I know," He smiled, and that was the end of the conversation.

Smiled. Smiled. Smiled. God he had a nice smile. Jack's own face twitched into a smile as a rush of cold filled his brain like liquid nitrogen. It demanded air so he gulped it down, inhale, then released slowly. A steady note drummed on and on in the background. Whatever they'd planned to do wouldn't work anyway, so what does it matter.

You just can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved.

Exhale.

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1158 words minus a/n

I've gotten a tad bit behind, I'll catch up tomorrow.

🎵It's my story and I'll write if I want to, write if I want to~🎵

Lots of love, happy holidays!!!!!