#lmi

/ / /

Jack could tell that he had overslept.

It was bright in his room, the light filtering through his plain curtains brighter than normal mornings. Jack shot awake with a start, only to curl in on himself with a gasp of pain. If he had felt bad the night before, he was absolutely feeling horrible now. His entire body was sore and aching in odd places, and his brief tumble down the stairs couldn’t quite cover it. And curiously, Jack still felt exhausted, as though he hadn’t gotten any sleep at all. He was now more tired than when he had gone to bed in the first place.

Glancing to the clock, Jack’s breath caught in his throat. He had less than an hour if he wanted to get his video up on time. He snatched up his phone, where it sat on his side table, trying to figure out why the alarm hadn’t gone off in the first place. The screen remained dark.

“Damn it,” Jack swore aloud. He blamed YouTube for making him talk to himself.

He fumbled for his charger, trying to plug it in so he could bring his phone back to life. He couldn’t believe that he had forgotten to do so the night before. It was part of his evening ritual before he went to bed to make sure he had everything prepared, including making sure his phone was charging so the alarm could go off in the morning. Jack sighed. Obviously he had been much more tired than he thought to have overlooked something so damn obvious.

Jack threw off his covers, eager to get to his recording space to get his video up on time. He almost never missed his schedule, consistently uploading his videos like clockwork, and feeling a bit under the weather was no excuse to be late. He had said as much in his videos, reassuring his fans that even if he was in a sour mood or felt like crap, he would still do his best to provide quality content. He had no intentions of going back on that promise, especially with the start of the new year.

He swayed briefly once on two feet, a sudden rush of nausea overcoming him, but ultimately he shrugged it off. He made it to the bathroom, cringing when he saw his appearance in the mirror. The entire portion of his left face, extending from his brow to his hairline, was covered in a darkening bruise. The dark reddish hue was a stark contrast to his otherwise pale skin, and Jack sighed. There was no way to ignore it or brush it off. It was way too noticeable.

He quickly splashed water on himself, being particularly gentle around the bruise, as Jack hurried to get ready. Normally he’d make himself a pot of coffee first thing upon waking, but there was simply no time for that now. He practically staggered out of his bathroom across the hall to his office, sitting heavily down in his swivel chair. Jack booted up his monitors, and upon seeing the email from Robin with the edited version of the video he had sent him the previous day, Jack sent a silent prayer of thanks to his editor. Robin truly was a blessing, and with him taking some of the burden from Jack, it freed up a lot of extra time for him. Plus, it just made things easier in general.

Jack looked over the fifteen minute video, double-checking it to make sure it flowed well and there were no errors before uploading it. He repeated the process for the second video, only queueing it to upload a couple hours after the first. Jack then set about to record a new video, slightly hesitant. While his videos for that day would have the normal Jack, the videos he would record for tomorrow would feature a bruised-up Jack. He knew Robin was sure to ask about it, and Jack would just have to shrug it off and chalk it up to him being a clumsy loaf. His fans, however, would be a much different story. He remembered how things blew up for Marina Joyce when people thought abuse was a factor for her. Jack shivered. He hoped that nothing like that would happen. After all, it was just a minor mishap on the stairs. That was normal, right? It happened.

With a reluctant sigh, Jack booted up Subnautica and started his recording. It was best to just get these types of things over with.

/ / /

Robin had messaged Jack back not two minutes after he sent the recorded footage of Subnautica.

He hadn’t really wanted to reply, but there was no way to avoid it. He just wasn’t quite sure what to say. Apparently Jack was taking too long to answer, if the jingle of the Skype call was anything to go by. The tune gave Jack a start, who after a brief moment of hesitation, clicked on the little green icon.

“What the hell happened to your face, Jack?” Well, it seemed like Robin wanted to get straight to the point, then.

Jack rolled his eyes, trying not to bite back a reply. His friend was just worried, after all. “It’s Seán, dick.” That earned a small laugh from the other, as the two often joked about what to call Jack. “Anyways, I’m fine. If you had watched the first minute of the video you would have heard the explanation I gave to the fans.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the explanation for the fans,” Robin reasoned easily, “I wanted to hear it from you.”

And that had Jack sighing. He had gone over it rather quickly on the recording, not wanting to get too into the details. Robin deserved a proper explanation. “It’s nothing, really.” That didn’t mean Jack was going to give Robin a proper explanation. “Just fell down my stairs.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, as Robin’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “That doesn’t sound like nothing to me. How did that even happen?”

Jack bit his lip, not wanting to breach the subject of how Jack had been hearing voices. Well, voice, really. Singular. Only one voice. Still, that wasn’t something he wanted to advertise with his friends. “I just re-waxed my stairs last weekend, and my socks slipped on the wood,” Jack lied quickly, though he looked off to the side, not able to meet his friend’s concerned gaze.

Robin seemed to buy it, leaning back in his own chair with a sigh. “Damn, Seán. Be more careful.”

“I will,” Jack said in a small voice, heart clenching. Robin was too nice to him.

After the call Jack headed downstairs, removing his socks beforehand out of nerves. He hadn’t heard any voices since waking up, which was good, meaning that the sleep had definitely helped. Still, he could never be too careful. He’d rather not go tumbling down his stairs again. In the kitchen, Jack started a pot of coffee and thought about making some toast and eggs. Though it technically wasn’t breakfast anymore, Jack wanted to try and do his normal morning routine properly, including his breakfast meal with coffee.

The scent of freshly brewed dark roast flooded Jack’s senses, and he relaxed slightly with a sigh. The warmth settled nicely in his body, and Jack hummed pleasantly. He had been so on edge since waking, unsure how to tackle the odd events of the evening prior, though the coffee seemed to help with his nerves, if only slightly. Slightly was still better than none at all, though. Jack felt his eyes drooping, and he quickly set down his mug to keep from dropping it. He was still so damn tired despite sleeping nearly twelve hours. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

Whatever appetite Jack had worked up was gone now, which deeply concerned him. Sometimes he got too worked up in his recordings and accidentally skipped a meal, but him just being flat out not hungry was definitely not normal.

He grabbed his mug again, heading back upstairs to his recording room to get on with the day, figuring he’d just eat a bigger meal later to compensate for skipping breakfast. A sharp pain flared up in his left eye and Jack doubled over with a cry, the half filled mug of coffee shattering easily on the wooden steps. His hand reached up automatically to cover his eye, tears leaking out from the pain. Jack bit his lip. His eye felt like it was on fire.

He raced up the rest of the stairs, broken coffee mug mess forgotten as he made for the bathroom. Jack wondered briefly if the bruise on that side of his face had anything to do with it but, pushed that thought away. A simple bruise wouldn’t cause pain of this magnitude.

In the washroom, Jack ducked his head under the tap, turning it on and splashing water on it as one would do if they got chemicals in their eye. That’s what it felt like to him, anyways, some kind of chemical burn. It was impossible, but the pain was definitely real. The heated sensation began to fade as the water continued to run, and Jack heaved a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure what the fuck caused that, but it was damn painful.

Turning off the tap, Jack straightened to look at himself in the mirror. He frowned slightly, grabbing a hand towel to dry his face. There was something off about his reflection, he just couldn’t place it. He placed the towel over his full face, giving himself a quick pat down. As he removed it, Jack noticed the way the eyes, his eyes, were watching him so intently. There was a toothy grin on the face in the reflection, one that Jack was sure he wasn’t making.

And then the laughing returned, in his voice, the lips in the mirror moving as though they were the source of the laughter. It was loud, ringing, and right in his ears, and all Jack could do was watch in horror as his own reflection was acting as though it were a different being.

/ / /

Jack wasn’t sure how much time had passed.

He was laying there, on his bathroom floor on his side, staring blankly at the sink in front of him. At some point he’d apparently passed out, only to wake with yet another lump on his head from the fall to the tiled floor. His entire body was still sore and achy, the uncomfortable feeling only having intensified from earlier. His mouth was dry, as though stuffed with cotton balls. Jack wasn’t quite sure he could move if he tried. It was taking everything out of him just to focus on getting his heart rate back to normal and keeping his breathing steady.

The jingle of a Skype call sounded from across the hall, and Jack blinked slowly with recognition. Who could be calling him?

His fingers twitched, the only movement Jack had really done since waking up on the floor. He felt frozen in place, too weak to even get up. The tune cut off abruptly– he had taken too long to answer. Jack’s eyes drooped shut again. He’d deal with it later.

Later turned out to be much sooner than he thought, as the ringing immediately started back up again. Whoever it was was insistent.

With renewed interest, Jack summoned all his strength to slowly push himself up on his elbows. His vision swam with the small movement, upper arms trembling with the effort to hold himself up. His nostrils flared as his mouth flooded with saliva suddenly, and Jack recognized it for what it was. Urgently he pulled himself over to the toilet just in time to lean over the seat and vomit into it. Jack gripped at the edge, entire body shaking as he coughed into the bowl, emptying the entirety of the contents of his stomach. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, snot ran down his nose, and a mixture of bile and saliva dripped down his chin. Jack felt disgusting, but continued to heave until there was nothing left to vomit up.

Finally he collapsed back onto the floor, chest stuttering with uneven breaths. It had used up a lot of energy to do something as simple as throw up, and that act alone had sapped much of his remaining strength. He reached a quivering arm up and over, snatching up some toilet paper to wipe his face. Might as well try to clean up a bit.

As he wiped the fluids from his chin and nose, Jack grumbled in frustration. He had no idea how he ended up on the floor, so void of energy in the first place. The last thing he remembered was drinking some coffee and trying to head back into his recording space–

Oh.

That’s right.

Jack began to shake once more, this time from fear as the memories came flooding back in a rush. He remembered with regretful clarity the burning sensation of his left eye, as though someone had been sticking a flaming rod through it. He remembered the eerie laugh, his own voice so loud and incessant in his ears. And he remembered his reflection, or the person in the mirror who was Jack but at the same time distinctly wasn’t.

The melodic tune of yet another Skype call brought Jack back to the present. Currently it was just him in the room, laying on his back, the sounds of his heavy breathing and the distant jingle of the call being the only audible noises. There was no laugh, no other voice– his voice –just Jack.

He hauled himself to a sitting position, ignoring how the movement made his stomach flip uneasily, for he knew he had nothing left to vomit up. Jack grabbed onto the towel rack on his right, using it as a grip to get himself to his feet. Finally upright, Jack leaned heavily on the wall, chest and shoulders heaving as he took deep breaths. His knees shook, legs unsteady beneath him as Jack slowly made his way out of the bathroom, pointedly ignoring the mirror, hands on the wall the entire time to guide himself.

Somehow he made it to his recording room without stumbling, plopping down ungracefully into his gaming chair. The screen in front of him was the only light in the room, and Jack’s breath caught in his throat as he realized why the room was so damn dark.

It was night.

With shaking fingers Jack clicked over to Skype, pressing the little green icon to accept the call. Robin’s worried face filled his screen after a brief moment of loading, and Jack’s heart tightened as he realized how much he’d been making his friend worry.

“Jack! Are you okay, you haven’t sent me the footage for your second video for tomorrow, and–” Robin cut off his worried rant there, eyes practically bulging as he took in Jack’s appearance. “And fuck. You look like shit.”

Normally Jack would laugh and roll his eyes to correct the other on his name, but he barely even had the strength to hold himself up properly. “That bad?”

Robin merely nodded worriedly, biting his lip. “What the fuck happened?”

Jack sighed, lifting a trembling arm to comb through his no doubt messy locks. “I– I don’t know. I think I passed out or somethin’.”

“You look like you got hit by a train,” Robin muttered. “No offense,” he added quickly.

That earned a tired snort out of Jack. “I feel like I got hit by one, too.”

“You know what, and you're probably not going to like hearing this, but, just hear me out,” Robin began, raising a hand of caution up to the webcam.

“Jus’ tell me already,” Jack slurred, accent thickening.

Robin’s face hardened. “You should probably go to the hospital. And by probably I mean you should definitely go to the hospital.”

Jack stopped short. Why would he go to the hospital? Just because he was feeling a little more than under the weather? “No way.”

“Jack! Just look in a mirror!” Robin said, exasperation leaking into his tone, and Jack tried not to flinch at the mention of a mirror. “You look run down and just plain awful. As great as your consistency is for your upload schedule, the fans will understand if it's a medical emergency.”

“Look, Robin, I appreciate ‘ta thought,” Jack grumbled, raking a sluggish hand over his surprisingly sweaty face, accent coming in thick from exhaustion. “But this isn't some ‘medical emergency’ or anything like that. ‘M not dying. I just need ‘ta get some sleep.”

“Please Jack, at least go get yourself checked out,” Robin insisted. “You said you fell down the stairs, right? You could have a concussion. At the very least go get your head looked at.”

Jack had more arguments ready on his tongue but released a defeated sigh instead. It was much easier to just concede than drag their discussion on. “Fine. I'll do that tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Robin said with a sigh himself.

There was silence for a moment then, neither one quite sure what to say.

“I should go,” Jack finally voiced after a moment of hesitation. “I'll send you the footage within the hour.”

“Alright,” Robin replied, still eyeing Jack warily.

Jack said his goodbyes to Robin then before clicking the red icon, effectively ending the call. He sank back into his chair, dropping his head in his hands with a groan.

What the hell was wrong with him? Everything that had happened in the last two days had been both unexplainable and strange. One part of Jack figured he was having some kind of a mental break from stress, but the pain that had flared up in his eye earlier was real, not just in his head. And the pure exhaustion and shaky feeling that spread throughout his body definitely wasn't normal either. He had been getting plenty of sleep, a little too much from the night before actually, and had no problems getting to sleep in the first place, so why was he so damn tired? And the achy feeling had only been increasing, as though simply functioning had been overly taxing his body.

Alright. So maybe he should see a doctor.

But that meant admitting that this problem, whatever it was, was too much to handle, that Jack wasn't strong enough to deal with a simple lump on the head and a little fatigue.

Jack was promptly reminded that this was more than just a ‘little fatigue’ as his vision shifted and tilted the room around him, forcing him to grab onto his desk for extra support. He bit his lip, letting out a noise of frustration. Why was he so damn weak?

That’s all you’ve ever been, Seán. Weak.

“Shut up,” Jack muttered aloud, otherwise barely reacting to the voice as it once again echoed in his mind. Somehow, its presence was becoming the new normal. Well, about as normal as hearing voices in one’s head could ever get.

Letting out another sigh, Jack pulled up Steam on his desktop. It was way past time to get to work. He pulled up Happy Room, figuring he could lose himself in the pointless violence of the game and relax for a bit. After a half hour of recording, Jack gathered all the footage and audio files and sent them to Robin. He just hoped his friend wouldn’t be too upset having to work later than normal and edit for him.

Jack sat up straighter in his chair, stretching idly. It was nearing midnight now, and while Jack had managed to get his videos recorded for the next day, somehow he felt as though his entire day had been wasted. He achieved his recording quota, yet the whole passing out thing had distorted his sense of time, making his day pass by in the blink of an eye.

He headed out of his office, scratching the back of his head with a yawn, reminding himself to clean the coffee mess on the stairs after a nap. His vision blurred momentarily before clearing again, and Jack reached out to the wall to steady himself. He blinked a few times, eyes narrowing with worry.

“Okay…” Jack mumbled, growing increasingly worried with his newfound dizzy spells.

The hallway blurred again, colors and shapes melding together rapidly and Jack shut his eyes to keep from passing out.

When he opened them again, Jack wasn’t in his house anymore.

He looked around wildly, panic rising within him as he took in his new surroundings.