The Thing That Wanders In The Woods

“No, I just- you don’t need to waste your time, I can figure it out.” His eyes soften, like he can see straight through you.

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to do it kid. Come on.” He’s walking away before you can argue, you don’t even have a chance to bristle at the nickname he calls you. You just follow.

The ride to your apartment is silent, you can feel Jack peer over at you from time to time, nothing more than a glance before he turns his attention back to the road. The two of you hadn’t been dating long, a couple months at most. he’d seen your home on more than one occasion. He’d hold you on bad days and you did the same for him. You both tried to be a safe place to rest for the other. Yet somehow this ride felt different. Deeper. You knew he would walk you inside, knew he’d see just how bad things had gotten.

To say you’d been struggling was an understatement. You stayed glued to your mattress for the hours you didn’t spend at the hospital, any remaining energy went into feeding yourself and trying desperately to keep just how bad it was from everyone in your life. Which all seemed for not as you stand in front of your apartment entrance.

Guilt cloaks you as you turn your lock, you kick the pile of shoes partially blocking the door more out of the way and reside yourself to how pathetic you feel as Jack steps over a bag left in the entry way. He doesn’t say anything. No remarks about the collection of scrubs sat by the couch, nothing about the dishes piled in the sink. He just takes it all in as if mentally reminding himself to check in on you more often.

“Sorry, I know it’s a mess. I’ve been busy with family stuff.” You end it with an awkward chuckle, bracing your hand at the back of your neck, slowly dragging it back and forth in a grounding motion. To his credit Jack doesn’t mention that he knows you don’t speak to your family.

“Don’t apologize sweetheart.” He bends to pick up a shirt currently tangled on the boot of his prosthetic and you’ve truly never wanted the world to end more than you did right now. What’s worse is you don’t have the energy to help him, or even attempt to fly through your apartment shoving things out of sight until he left. You just stood there, heart in your hand hoping he didn’t break it.

“I’m sorry.” The words stick, forced out through the lump in your throat. Your eyes well and your vision blurs. “I didn’t know it had gotten this bad.” Jack looks back as a quiet sob breaks past your lips. Immediately he’s retracing his careful steps through your messy apartment until he has you braced against his chest, arms around you.

“You’re okay, kid. I’ve got you now.” The two of you stay that way until your sobs ebb and your left feeling even more weighed down then you had this morning. Crying didn’t change anything, you’d done enough of it the last two weeks to know that, yet you still hoped it would fix everything. That maybe crying in Jacks arms would magically make everything disappear.

He doesn’t ask you to talk about it, knows that if you could explain it you would have. So he lifts you, carefully tucking one arm around your back the other under your knees and walks down the hall to your room. When you open your eyes he’s lowering you onto your bed, sheets still rustled, pillows still askew. He doesn’t need to ask what drawer your pajamas are in, he already knows, but his voice breaks the silence when he places them next to your hip.

“You want help?” He’s asking if he can undress you. You know it, so does he. Yet the gesture of knowing he’s seen you naked and still asks opens a window in your closed off soul.  

“Yes please.” You’re so far past feeling shame that you’ve become numb. So yeah, he can change your clothes.

Jack doesn’t need to be told twice, he makes quick work of replacing your scrubs with something softer, more suited for sleep. Places a kiss to your forehead and tucks your comforter under your chin.

“Get some sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.” Your eyes are already half way closed when you nod, no longer concerned with anything but rest.

The smell of food is what rouses you. You know Jack said he would be here when you woke up, knew that he was a man of his word yet some how you still believed you’d be alone. You don’t get up right away, limbs still heavy and mind still loud. You close your eyes and listen to Jack moving throughout your space. He sounds like he belongs here. In your kitchen cooking himself breakfast at the end of a long shift. The thought is gone as soon as it arrives. Your aching heart pushing away everything good in favor of prolonging your suffering.

You stop delaying the inevitable and push your blankets off. When you sit up your met with the sight of your bedroom floor, no piles of dirty clothes, no clutter.

Then he appears.

Jack is dressed in a black shirt and camo cargo pants, a plate in one hand and a mug in the other.

“Did I wake you?” Its simple really, a yes or no answer yet you just stare at him. Eyes taking in the soft afternoon light breaking past your curtains and showering him in an ethereal glow. Unlike you he doesn’t falter, just raises and eyebrow and waits.

“No.” Your voice is rough, you clear your throat without thinking.

“Good. I made you something to eat, you want it in here or out there?” He gestures towards your living room with the mug still in his careful grasp. You don’t respond verbally this time, choosing to lift your chin in the direction he motioned towards. You follow him out, mind reeling as you see the state of things.

Jack hadn’t just made you food. He had spent his time cleaning your mess. Your living room was void of piles of clothes, the dishes were done, the layers of dust that had collected were gone. The smell of lemon cleaner now permeated through out your home. You felt nauseous and relieved at the same time. Heart full yet cracked at the thought of him wasting his time.

“Jack…” You were kidding yourself if you thought you had words to chide or thank him. You had nothing. No air, no words. Just silence.

“I called a laundry service that Robby uses, they picked your clothes up an hour ago, should have them back by the end of the day.” He isn’t put off by your stillness. Just places your plate on the coffee table then retreats to your kitchen to grab his own. You sit when he returns, joining him like he didn’t just change everything.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to say anything. Why don’t you eat and we can talk about it after?” When you look over at him you swear you can see your heart sitting in his palm, cradled gently so it doesn’t shatter, his own beside it. You eat without arguing, figuring that’s the least you could do for the man that just cleaned your whole apartment after working the same grueling shift you had. You pause a moment, realizing that you hadn’t had half of the things you were eating in your fridge. You had run out of eggs three days ago. Bread had been missing from your cabinets for even longer. Yet your plate was piled with just that. A tear falls before you can stop it, silently slipping down your cheek. For the first time in weeks, it doesn’t feel heavy. It falls from your chin to your chest and relieves some of the trapped pressure there. Your plate is on the coffee table before you can overthink it, you place his in the spot next to yours before climbing into his lap, head buried in his neck.

“Baby?” For the first time since he dropped you off Jack pauses. He doesn’t tense, doesn’t push you away. Just worries that maybe he had over stepped. That his help had pushed you into feeling worse rather than better.

“Thank you.” Its quiet, full of wet stutters as the dam finally breaks. You push further into him, soaking the front of his shirt with your exhaustion and self-hatred. One of his warm hands traces your spine, the other cradles you into him by the back of your neck. His cheek is placed at your crown, lips occasionally pressing there.

“Don’t have to thank me. You’d do the same for me, no questions asked.” You unfurl yourself from him then, glassy eyes locking on to his steady ones. The kiss you share is full of relief and longing, every moment you had spent feeling alone had been doubled for him. Your unintentional disappearance? He had watched it happen from the sidelines. Yet still, he stayed. Didn’t waver, didn’t push. Just waited for the moment he could go to war with you like the solider he was.  

God you loved him.