His Game

Chapter 27: Elsa

I had long since moved to the couch with Hiccup, and even now, twenty minutes later, Jack is still on the phone with his mom. I'm honestly starting to get a bit worried.

"Do you think he's okay?" I ask.

Hiccup flicks through the channels. "He's okay. The only time Jack ever isn't okay is when he's internalizing things or yelling at people."

Then, at that moment, we both her a twisted version of Jack's voice coming through the walls: "THIS IS MY LIFE, IT BELONGS TO ME!"

Then a crash, like he threw something. God, did Jack just throw the phone?

Hiccup raises his eyebrows. "Alright, maybe he's not okay."

"I'm going to go check on him."

"No, leave him be." When I look like I'm about to argue, Hiccup says, "Jack doesn't like confrontation. Give him ten minutes or so before you go in there and ask questions."

"Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent."

As time goes by, I realize that maybe Hiccup is right. Jack hasn't come out of the room yet so he obviously isn't ready to talk to anyone about what happened when he was on the phone with his mom. I still watch the clock, though, when ten minutes are up I fully intend to make sure that he's okay.

"Think it's safe for me to check on him now?" I say after ten minutes have come and gone.

"You can never really tell with Jack, but I guess now more then before." Hiccup says, more focused on the TV then the subject at hand.

"Does none of this bother you?" I ask, bewildered.

He shrugs. "Happens all the time. Jack has a breakdown, like, almost every other week. Then he goes and gets fuckin' buzzed, and he'll make it until the next month or so and the whole thing repeats."

I shake my head and get up. When I reach our room, I pause, and listen at the door. I can hear the sound of heavy breathing. 

I almost knock on the door. Then I stop. Why should I knock? It's my room as much as Jack, and if he doesn't want me to come in, he would have gone somewhere more private. He doesn't want to be alone right now.

"Hey," I say, stepping into the room and closing the door behind me.

Jack is standing at the window, hands gripping the sill so tightly that his knuckles turn white. 

He doesn't answer.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

He still doesn't answer me.

I decide to be brave, and I walk up behind him, reaching forward. Gently, I place my hand on his shoulder and give it a slight squeeze. He tenses immediately.

"You can talk to me. Tell me what happened," I say, still rubbing his shoulder.

Jack swallows, and when he finally speaks, his voice is rough. "Mom says I can't see Emma anymore."

I feel my heart shatter for him, and instantly, I regret my words from this morning. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. Or maybe he needed to hear it, just with a little more... Subtext. 

"We'll figure this out," I promise. "Emma will be just as upset as you, maybe even more. Your mom will see that."

"No, that's not what I meant." Jack says quickly, "I'm not allowed to see Emma because Emma doesn't want to see me."

"What?"

He looks away, but not before I see pain, agony  burning in his eyes like blue fire.