Deacon woke with a yawn. His head pounded. He smelled absolutely awful. He was stuck to the counter and his own clothes. He gave himself a moment to wake up, trying to ignore the hangover affects. He looked back at his still unfinished painting, the paint still on the carpet. That's odd, Jett would have had that cleaned up by now. Was he not home yet? No, he had to be-
He sat up suddenly, falling from his chair and landing heavily on the sticky floor below. The sun pushed past the thick layer of clouds that refused to leave. It wasn't the morning sun he had expected, but late afternoon. He climbed back to his feet. He looked down at the mess he had made. His eyes followed the trail. Jett was probably sleeping. Deacon decided that he'd clean up and apologize. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and made his way around the counter. He froze when he noticed the carpet was spotted with something other than alcohol and shame. There was an abundant of it leading into the bathroom. He peaked inside, finding that the cat wasn't any where to be seen. Dried blood pooled in front of the shower and clung to the drain. Bloodied clothes lay in a pile near the door. He turned to the door just across the hall, finding that it was still open. The kitten lay on Jett's bed looking up expectantly at Deacon. She let out a yawn and let her head fall back down to her paws and continued to sleep. But other than her, there was no sign of life in the room. No Jett.
He stumbled back into the sitting room. The trail of what he assumed was blood started at the door. He rushed over, finally noticing how it doubled as if he'd left. He stopped when he spotted the neighbor's note on the fridge. A small wave of panic washed over him. He snatched his keys from the counter and ran to his car.
He sped down to the hospital and was given quick directions to room 342. He was more than happy to see that Jett was alive and awake. He had butterfly stitches above his eyebrow and on his collar bone. Bandages hugged his head tightly, hiding the gruesome wound from every one. A blood bag hung besides the bed on a rack with a few other things. Jett frowned upon seeing Deacon. Deacon stood awkwardly in the door way before sitting down on one of the two chairs set up along the wall besides the hospital bed. He sat in silence for a second before asking,"what happened?"
"I got jumped. What happened to you?" He asked right on back, watching his snippy tone. His voice has recovered from the terrible whisper it had been the night before. But not by much. Just enough for him to be heard this time.
Deacon looked away in shame,"I got drunk. Can't remember why though, but I got drunk. I'm sorry about that." Deacon was half expecting Jett to order him to leave. But Jett didn't look angry or surprised or upset at all. It could have been all the pain killers he was on at the time or he just couldn't care. He watched the cripple's every move and studied his face trying to see just how angry he really was. Jett was a good actor. He had to be wth his past and all. He had been trained not to show emotion and Deacon already had a hard time telling what people's emotions were even when they weren't acting. His doctors called it Aspergers, but he called it a pain in the ass.
Jett sat up, forcing back the wince that crept to his lips. He grinned and shook his head,"you could have showered before you came to visit. Sheesh! I can smell the vodka from here." He complained. Deacon looked down at himself with a puzzled look. He looked like a god damn mess. And he did reek. A shower was a great idea.
Deacon motioned towards the stitches on Jett's head,"did they use a weapon on you?"
"A car, I think. I don't know." He responded with a distracted look. He leaned back against the pillows and shook his head," I'm just waiting on my CT scans, but I think other than that, in all good to go." He sighed. Deacon shook his head and pulled a chair out from behind the hospital door to sit on it.
"There's no way that they'd let you go like this." He said in a discouraging tone, using his hand it indicate Jett's situation. Jett shrugged,"I don't know how these things work! My parents didn't give a flying fuck if I was just sleeping, unconscious, dying, or dead."
Deacon made a face of disgust. He absolutely hated Jett's parents. He hated Jett's brothers more, but Jett had terrible parents from what little Jett had told about them. Jett made a face as well.
"I'm hungry." He admit. It seemed a though he had forgotten every thing up until this moment. Deacon didn't mind, but he didn't like that Jett was so willing to change the topic. He nodded, now feeling hungry himself,"When you get out of here, we'll find some place to eat at."
"I want chicken." Jett mumbled after some thought. Deacon opened his mouth to mention a few fast food places, but the doctor, or maybe this was the nurse, cut him off. He glanced down at Deacon disapprovingly, scrunching his nose at the thick smell of alcohol.
"You must be a family member?"
"Cousin." The two spat in unison. They had agreed a while ago after Deacon broke his foot that they'd claim to be cousins so that Jett's family didn't have to get involved and so that they could split the hospital bills as well as every other bill. They weren't expecting to ever have to use it, but as time rang, they were ready.
The doctor nodded,"right. Well, Mr.Jett, here are your scans. Now, there is defiantly evidence of damage, however, none of it is fatal. It's to be expected that you're going to have some head pains and no memory of the attack and quite possibly some mild mood swings, but besides that, you should be fine. As for your arm, keep it bandaged during the day and be sure to let it get some air. You should be released in another hour or so." He spoke quickly and emotionlessly. He almost sounded disappointed, the way a man might sigh things out if they were tired of doing something or another. He turned on his heel to leave, and as he passed him, he gave Deacon a dirty look that he couldn't read.
Time passed slowly. The two mainly sat in silence because Jett couldn't handle too many loud noises and his voice was still partially gone. But time passed none the less and after a bit of paper work, Jett was allowed to go home.
The two were now sitting in the car trying to figure out just where Jett wanted to eat. He didn't really seam to mind or care just as long as there was chicken. And after a bit of thought, both decided to just go to a king-supers and buy some of their already cooked chickens. Their car smelled pretty good the entire way home. They didn't hold back on diving into the bird once they were able to do so.
Jett was eating on the couch, something he normally wouldn't do, but he was cold and he wanted the warmth the couch offered instead of the cold bar stools. Deacon had decided on working on the painting he still hasn't finished. He still had paint to clean and he promised to do that later, but Jett didn't care, at least not at the moment. He was more concerned about missing work and school. He was told to take at least three days off to have time to recover, and he was forbidden to use any electronics, but he hated listening to doctors. He's had worse head injuries and he did just fine then, he'd be fine now, too. Still, the TV was off and he hadn't touched his phone.
He just sat back, enjoyed his chicken, and watched Deacon paint. It wasn't long before he was up, cleaning things, fussing over homework, and calling his bosses for various reasons. Deacon finished a base of colors he needed and while he waited for it to dry he went to go and shower, trying his best to stay out of Jett's way. He took his time in the shower, struggling to wash the smell of alcohol off of himself. He wasn't too sure just how long he was in the shower, but when he got out, the paint on the carpet was gone, he had a basket of still warm laundry, and Jett was fast asleep on the bar. He was still holding a nearly empty glass of what looked to be tea. Deacon made his way about putting his painting supply away. He woke Jett up just enough to send him to bed before seeing himself to bed as well.
The night was still as usual. The kitten, who was still in Jett's room, had found a way up onto Jett's bed and was now sleeping snugly on Jett's head. The living room was a dark shade of blue and temperatures were dropping like crazy. Jett had woken up twice already due to this. He had noticed the cat both times. He wanted to send her back to the bathroom to avoid the chance that she might piss and shit in his room, but he felt bad for making her freeze, so he let her stay. He buried himself in blankets and jackets, and she buried herself between him and said blankets and jackets.
It was one of those nights one might hear about during Christmas tails. Too calm, too peaceful, too quiet. But that was shortly solved when their door was practically knocked from its hinges by terrible knocking from a very drunk and angry neighbor.
Both boys had woken up to this alarming knock. Jett had beaten Deacon at the getting up part, but it was Deacon who'd answered the door. He was startled to find Gray at their door. He looked spooked and as if he had just ran a mile to get here. He didn't great Deacon at all, he pushed past the older man and darted to Jett's room, barely knocking on the door before throwing it open.
"Jett, get up and get dressed!" He ordered. Jett, who had been on his way to go get the door and was absolutely startled when his own door opened with out reason, had jumped a bout ten feet into the air before landing painfully on his back knocking the wind clear out of him. Gray didn't give him time to recover. He grabbed the boy's foot and started dragging him away. He turned to Deacon just a moment before leaving the house,"I'm borrowing him." He announced. Deacon shook his head.
"He's recovering from a concussion, I'd prefer it if you let him stay here and rest." He growled, angry that he'd been woken up so early. Gray turned to Deacon with a roll of his eyes.
"What are you, his father?" Jett latched onto the edge of the bar and held on the best he could,"I wanna go back to bed, Gray." He complained lightly, his voice unheard to the others above him. Deacon looked unrealistically offended. He shook his head,"no, but I'm not letting him out at this hour."
"Sure thing, Jett's mom."
"Jett, go to bed!"
"Jett, lets go!"
"Go to bed!"
"Let's go!"
"Bed!"
"Go!"
Jett was frowning and ready to yell at the both of them, but it was way too early to do so. Gray sighed heavily,"Jett, Allison's ex just kidnapped the baby." He spat out quickly. Jett jumped to his feet. A wave of dizziness washed about him and he felt just about ready to puke. He pushed that feeling aside and followed Gray,"I'll be back, Deac." He called, closing he door behind him.
"God damn it Jett!" Deacon sighed. He stood there for a minute, resting his head in his hand before turning to go to bed. The kitten jumped from Jett's bed, missing the body heat he was providing. She happily decided to sleep on Deacon's feet. And with that, the apartment returned to that peaceful and calm stillness.
