Jack sat crumbled up on the entrance-way floor. The cold metal door rested against his back as he pulled his knees to his chest. Silence pressed against his skin as the empty Spicer estate swallowed his small figure. Jack barely made it past the front door before fat teardrops started down the genius' cheeks. A shuttering breath gasped past his busted lips, as something terrible began to bloom in his chest. The dull ache grew until it felt as if it was swallowing him from the inside out. Hallow pain, like dread, started around his heart and then spread down his limbs. Jack's hands clutched at his chest, but it made no difference in the pain. Tears ran down onto his jacket and plopped onto the tile floor. "I'm soo... stt..stupid." He choked out. "Why did I think anything had changed?" The teenager ground his hands against his eyes, smearing the coal liner and tears across his face.
"Master?" The albino jerked at the sound of a voice. A Jackbot hovered a few feet away uncertainly, staring down at the youth. "R57... You scared me." "My apologies, Master. Do you require assistance? My reading indicates you are injured. "Jack sniffed but dragged himself up off the floor. He hated his Jackbots seeing him like this. They had a tendency to mother hen him when he came back hurt from a showdown. "No, I'm just scratched up. It's nothing serious." "But, Master. You are... leaking." The robot motioned towards his face with as much concern as an artificial life-form could muster. "Oh, ah, that? I just had... a bad day." "I see. I know what to do, Master." Just as quietly as it appeared, the bot disappeared into the manor. With a sigh, Jack straightened up and tried to wipe the worst of the mess off his face. He shrugged out of his leather jacket, careful of his new bruises, just as the robot returned with an armful of clothes. "What's this?" "I have brought some new comfortable clothing for the Master. If it pleases you after you change, I shall arrange some entertainment in the room of living?" "That's the living room, R57. You are almost as bad as that yellow cheese ball." Jack spat. "I'm not sure I'm up for anything right now. Being unconscious sounds pretty good." "You know what is best, Master," Jack swore he saw the Jackbot droop a few inches in the air at his dismissal. "...Fine." Even as worn out as Jack felt, he couldn't fight the painful smile on his face when his robot gave a small shout of excitement and shot back off into the manor. If there was one constant in his life, it was his loyal Jackbots. He could indulge them once and a while.
After washing up and changing out of his ruined clothes, Jack found the living room had been made into a mini-movie theater. The couch had been decorated with pillows and soft blankets. Popcorn and Jack's favorite snacks sat neatly up on the coffee table. The lights had been dimmed, flashes of one of the genius' favorite movies moved back and forth on the flatscreen tv. "Is it to your liking, Master?""It's perfect." Whether from the stress of the day or having his heart shattered so thoroughly, the simple act of kindness started to make him tear up again. "MASTER!" The bot screeched in distress. "NO. No. It's okay. Thank you, R57...This is pretty cool." As if to convince the bot, Jack sat down on the sofa and reached for some popcorn. The Jackbot hovered for a moment before starting the movie. "If you need anything, Master, just let me know." The robot gave a devoted bow before returning to the task it had abandoned to take care of the young genius.
Jack sat wrapped up in a blanket like a shroud. He wasn't paying attention to the movie so much as using it as a distraction. As long as he didn't think about today, the hallowed feeling in his chest just ached like a sore muscle and not an open wound. He didn't replay losing the showdown over and over in his head. He wouldn't agonize over what Chase had said to him. He wouldn't think about anything at all.
Long after the movie had finished and Jack had drifted off to sleep, a dark figure entered the room. Golden eyes stared down the youth, and with a sigh, lifted the teen into their arms. A single robot stopped to watch as Chase Young carried its' creator toward Jack's bedroom through the hall. With a gentleness, few had witnessed, Chase laid down his charge in the genius' unkempt bed. The warlord lingered at the bedside, his face solemn. His hand hovered over Jack's cheek, tracing the now dry tear tracks in silence.
"I am sorry."
Author notes.
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I was listening to Cotton Candy Skies by Esthie. It made me so sad I wanted to write sad Jack stories. I promised myself I had to write something so short I had to finish it. I want to finish some of my old projects. No Beta. Best of luck to you.