Day 14: In Which He Dweebs

He was in the middle of pouring himself a nice cup of coffee when he heard a crashing sound coming from his neighbor's balcony. Without a second thought, he put his beverage down and stormed outside.

Elsa had been crouching down on the floor with an explosion of porcelain fragments around her, and she jumped at the sound of him bursting his door open.

"What happened?" he yelled.

She looked at him, eyes wide with startlement, and pointed an accusing finger in his direction. "Why are you naked again?!"

Jack looked down at his bare body. Right. He forgot about that. But that was not the time to dwell on his nakedness, seeing as they had more pressing matters to tend to. With a murderous glare, he pointed at her hand. "Why are you bleeding?"

Elsa looked down, genuinely puzzled by the streak of red dripping down her finger.

"Goddamit, Elsa." He gripped the railing so firmly his knuckles hurt. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Nothing, my mug just slipped," she mumbled as she wrapped the hem of her shirt around her finger and pressed it tightly. "Go put some clothes on!"

He kept staring at her hands, panic making him feel lightheaded. "Is it deep?"

"I'm not sure…"

His palms started sweating, and he tugged on his hair until his scalp went numb. Oh God, they were going to need to take a trip to the hospital. He HATED hospitals. How were they even getting there? Were taxi drivers being allowed to work during the quarantine? Would she need stitches? Could the virus spread through open wounds? Where did he put his goddamn masks? Did he have any hand sanitizer left? What if—

"JACK!"

Jack took a step back, completely disoriented. He blinked. Elsa was looking at him like he was starting to fade right in front of her eyes.

"What?"

"I called you three times," she said, the frown on her face deepening. "You look like you're about to pass out."

Was he? He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna go disinfect this…" She gestured with her injured hand. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, I—" He let out a disgusting sound that was half cough, half laugh… and half sigh. Suddenly far too tired for a simple morning on his balcony, Jack slid a hand down his face. "Don't you dare hurt yourself again, Elsa."

Elsa scoffed. "Oh, sure, because I cut myself with a sharp piece of porcelain on purpose. As one does."

"I mean it. You lose another drop of blood and I'm shooting your precious baby plants with a fucking slingshot."

"Stop being dramatic, you idiot." With a final roll of eyes at him, she disappeared through her door.

"SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR DAMN FLOWERS, ELSA!"