Drop
It had been a good dream.
Everyone was smiling and laughing, and celebrating some holiday.
Those dreams don't come often enough, so to be woken up in the middle of it just plain sucked.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
"I'm coming," Shawn mumbles, knowing his sleep-weakened voice won't penetrate the door, but just wanting the person behind it to quit knocking.
Shawn barely gets the door unlocked before it is burst open from the other side.
Jack barges through, then slams the door shut behind himself and locks it.
Dazed, it takes a second for Shawn to get out the word, "W…what…?" He gives up on his question there.
"We have to go."
The word comes faster this time, "What?"
Jack stares into his brother's eyes, "Come on, let's pack your bags."
Under different circumstances, Shawn would probably ask Jack if he knew what time it was, and if he didn't think a vacation could wait until, say, daylight. He would probably also ask where, exactly, Jack got the idea that he had "bags." As it is, all Shawn can make out is another, "What?"
Jack becomes frustrated with his brother's meager responses and pushes him out of the way. He power-walks into Shawn's room, and Shawn decides it is best to follow.
As Shawn breaches the barrier into his room, he finds Jack already digging through drawers. Shawn shakes his head, trying to get blood flowing to his brain again, "What are you doing?" Ah, a multi-word sentence.
Jack meets his brother's eyes again, "Where are your suitcases?"
Shawn shrugs, "I might have a duffel around here somewhere…"
"Just a duffel?" Jack is really annoyed now.
Shawn is immediately put on the defensive, "Hey, I wasn't planning on going anywhere."
"You're right, you're right, I'm sorry. It's fine." Jack rakes his eyes over the bedroom again and finds an old backpack, "Here, we'll just use this. Fill it up with the essentials and we'll buy you more stuff on the road."
"On the road? Jack, what the hell is going on?"
"We'll talk about that later, I promise."
"Okay, then how about we talk about how I haven't even seen you in the last six months, and now you come back here, in the middle of the night no less, and demand I pack my bags for some mysterious trip?"
"Shawn, please, we have to hurry. I'm sorry about all of that. Now, let's get you packed and get out of here. Now!"
Shawn gives up, "Fine." He shoves some clothes and a toothbrush in the old pack and barely has it zipped before Jack grabs his wrist and leads him, running, from the apartment.
Down the hallway, nearing the elevator, Shawn finally gets a chance to pull free, "Wait!"
"What?!"
"I have to lock up."
"Why!?"
"BECAUSE I LIVE IN BROOKLYN, JACK!" Shawn shouts, the exasperation of the night starting to catch up.
Jack holds up his hands in defeat, allowing his brother to safely lock away all his worldly possessions, before grabbing his wrist and taking him back to the elevators.
The doors open, and silently they both step inside.
"Where did you park?" Shawn avoids eye contact.
"On the street."
Shawn presses the lobby button, and the doors close, shutting them together in very close quarters.
The digital numbers slowly count down the floors…7…6…5…
"I…I'm sorry I yelled at you," Shawn apologizes sheepishly.
"I'm taking you out of your home at three in the morning."
"Yes, you are."
"You're entitled to yelling."
A quiet chuckle escapes Shawn's chest, "Thanks."
The elevator doors open, and once again Jack has Shawn's wrist and they're running.