I Painted A Picture (Jalex)

You're Giving Me Such A Rush

Jack was late to school on Monday.

He stumbled into homeroom a good five minutes after the bell rang, muttering "Sorry, I overslept, sorry," and looking like he'd been put through a clothes dryer. His hair was disheveled, there were dark bags under his eyes, and he was quite literally stumbling, as though he was in pain. I smiled up at him as he made his way to his seat, and he waved back, although that may've just been a wince. Mrs. Purdy made a mark on the roll sheet, presumably changing Jack's status to "late", and went on taking roll. Jack slowly sat down in his seat, obviously trying to hide that he was in pain.

"How are you?" he asked me after Mrs. Purdy finished her business.

"Decent, you?" I answered, taking in his appearance and wondering whether that was a bruise or a hickey on his neck. Neither option seemed like a good one, but I honestly hoped it was a bruise.

"Fine," he said, staring at his desk.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

He turned to face me. "Can I come to your place today after school?"

"Sure," I said.

"Okay. We can talk then," he said, reaching into his backpack and getting out his homework. I left him to do it and got out that one book we were supposed to read for English class.

I didn't really pay attention in any of my classes that day. I was too busy thinking about Jack. Why was he late? What happened to him? Was he okay?

The school day couldn't end fast enough. I had to know what had happened to Jack. So as soon as he and I were alone at my house that afternoon, I jumped on him.

"Okay, you've been limping around all day and you're obviously in pain. What's up?"

Jack shifted uneasily in his seat. "I really don't want to talk about it. But I feel like I owe it to you, so here goes nothing." He turned in his chair so he could look me in the eye and went on. "This morning, my dad and I had a fight."

He began to choke up, and I leaned into him and ran my hands along his shoulders. "Take as much time as you need. I'm here."

Inhaling deeply, he continued. "It was over something stupid. I can't even remember what it was. But he got so mad, Alex. I don't know why, maybe he was hungover or something, but he was enraged. God, I can't believe I just used the word 'enraged'."

I stayed silent, but kept massaging his shoulders as he spoke. "Anyway, he kind of...slammed me against a wall..."
By this point, tears were starting to run down his cheeks, and I leaned farther into him, continuing the massage and sitting almost on his lap. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

He put his arm around me. "Thanks. I...I can't finish."

I smiled and hugged him tightly, and I could feel him squeezing me back as I spoke. "Was this the first time that happened?"

He nodded.

"Tell me if it happens again," I said. "It might just be a one-time thing. Does your dad seem like he'd do stuff like that regularly?"

"Uh, not really," he said.

"If it happens again, let me know," I repeated.

He nodded. "Alex, I'm scared. I don't want to go back there."

"You can stay the night here if you want," I instinctively said.

"Are you sure?" he asked uncertainly.

"Are you kidding? I love having you around. And I told my mom about you. She'll be fine with it," I replied.

"Thank you so much." He smiled and leaned over in his seat to check the time. "At any rate, I have rehearsal today."

"Do you need a ride or anything?" I asked.

"Nah, I'll be fine." He swatted my arm. "I have a car, remember?"

"Right."