(A/N): I originally intended to make this into an RPG, but I have no skills in that department, so I just decided to write it all out instead. Enjoy.
It was cold and dark in the water, even with his eyes open. He could barely make out the animals swimming around him without a care in the world. In some way, it was almost soothing, but the further he sank, the more he tried to swim up, clawing and kicking desperately in a vain attempt to break free of the water's hold on him.
Every time he did manage to get closer to the surface, barely making out the blurred outline of someone familiar to him, his hands desperately reached out towards them, silently pleading for help. They never grabbed his hand, only watching him struggle against the ocean as he began to sink further and further down again.
Some part of him briefly thought about giving up, letting his lungs fill with water and his last taste be salt. Just as the thought crossed his mind, however, he sucked in a sharp breath and his eyes opened, adjusting to the darkness of his bedroom.
He remained still for a moment, letting his body register the cold draft that settled over him and the pain in his back that signaled he'd been laying on it for far too long. Slowly, he turned to glance over at his wife, who had stolen the covers from him, filling the quiet room with her faint snoring and occasionally muttered words that he couldn't quite decipher.
Oh, he silently thought, carefully sitting up and resting his feet on the cool floor, staring idly at the red numbers of his alarm clock that only served as a cruel reminder of how much sleep he just lost. Unable to fight back a grimace, he stood up from the bed and carefully grabbed his hoodie that was draped over the dresser, slipping it on as he made his way out of the room and down the hallway, being cautious of every creak that emitted from under his feet.
Eventually, he found his way to the kitchen, thankful for the dim light that broke through the thin curtains covering the window. For just a moment, he stalled his movements, ears picking up the very loud clattering and clanking coming from the garage that only served to sour his mood further.
"He really couldn't have waited until morning…?" his voice came out muttered and almost a bit hoarse. Though, he supposed if he did confront the drunk scientist that currently occupied his garage about how late it was and how he should have just waited to work on his inventions in the morning, he would say something along the lines of: "It's technically already morning, and last I checked, you don't pay the fucking mortgage."
Or something similar. No doubt, there would definitely be at least some sort of jab at his current unemployment status.
Well, whatever.
Nothing new.
Nothing he wasn't used to…
Shaking his head as a means to not think further on how pathetic that statement was, he opened the cabinet to grab the container of animal crackers he originally came in here for and gingerly shuffled out of the kitchen, heading for his office, where he would spend the rest of his night watching Dungeons and Dragons campaigns, because really, what else was he supposed to do to get his mind off of the hole that had settled in his chest.
—
"What are you doing?"
It took a moment for her voice to register, slowly pulling his attention away from the TV and shifting slightly in his recliner. She was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, a confused look resting on her face.
He probably looked pathetic to her. A grown man watching D&D while eating animal crackers at five in the morning. How much more pathetic could you get?
"I couldn't sleep," he replied quietly, then asking, almost out of courtesy, "I didn't wake you, did I?"
No, of course he didn't. She always got up at five in the morning, but knowing her, the reply would be something related to how the TV was too loud, even though he could barely hear it from where he was currently sitting.
"Well, no, but the TV is kinda loud," her confused face shifted to that of annoyance, "And shouldn't you be getting ready? I thought you had a job interview today?"
He didn't. At least, not one this early in the morning. Though, he planned to cancel it in favor of something else.
"Actually…" he quietly explained, shifting his gaze back towards the TV as a means of distracting himself from that piercing glare immediately following his correction, "I was planning to visit my parents for a few days."
"Jerry," her voice was stern, borderline threatening with the unsaid middle and last name.
"Beth—" he tried to explain, to get her to understand how hollow he felt living in a house that never seemed to acknowledge him, no matter how hard he tried, but his voice seemed to catch in his throat, because no one would take his words seriously, would they?
"No, I don't want to hear it," she snapped, and even despite how steady and quiet her voice was as a means to not alert their children of a possible argument, he could still hear the frustration and anger, "You told me you'd, at the very least, try to get a job today. You are not skipping out on this interview."
He didn't bother replying, listening to her footsteps shuffle down the hall, his office door remaining open. It reminded him briefly of his parents barging into his bedroom, then leaving his door open, despite the fact that it had been closed, as if the moment they shut it, he'd forget everything they just told him.
Jerry sighed, long, heavy, sinking down into his recliner, hand moving to reach for the remote that was laying beside him to turn off the TV, "... okay," he quietly muttered to himself, staring at his tired face in the reflection of the TV, "I am…" he trailed off, unable to finish the rest of his sentence out loud, Okay.
Slowly, he stood up from his seat, tossing the remote on the cushion and exiting his office, a half eaten box of animal crackers in hand. Somehow, it always ended up being a lot more lively than it probably should have been so early in the morning. Part of him blamed the frantic chatter of his father-in-law bragging about one thing or another.
Another part of him blamed the fighting.
"Morty, I told you—!" Rick's aggravated voice fell harsh on Jerry's ears as he entered the kitchen. Though, one quick glance around the very empty room led him to assume that he was in the garage.
"And I told you—!" Morty argued back.
The rest of their conversation seemed to become more muddled as Jerry put his focus on making breakfast for everyone. Rick and Morty's constant fights were something he had gotten so used to, it seemed pointless to try and figure out what the issue was this time. Besides, even if he did try to intervene, nothing good would come of it.
You'd just make things worse, a too familiar voice at the back of his mind berated.
It was settled then. He was going to go see his parents today.
"Go to the job interview first," he muttered to himself, sprinkling some pepper on the eggs he was currently scrambling in a pan.
—
"So, Mr. Smith," the woman sitting across from him spoke coolly, slender fingers flipping through the very thin resume laying on her desk, "It says you were a prior advertising agent?" she glanced up at him, lips pursed.
"Yes, ma'am," he tried to keep his voice steady, but there was still a very noticeable quiver to it.
"And you quit?"
"I was fired."
Absentmindedly, he began to bounce his leg at a rapid pace, occupying his hands with the buttons on his sleeves. He wasn't going to get the job. He wasn't. Who'd want to hire someone that was fired? Especially from a job that sounded so easy.
His throat felt tight and his heart beat thudded in his ears, stomach twisting with unease. He wanted to leave.
"Why did they fire you?"
He opened his mouth to reply, but words stuck in his throat. Desperate, he tried to force them out, "They hated…" Me. They hated me. I annoyed them, "My advertisement suggestions," his voice cracked as he desperately blinked back tears, telling himself over and over, Not here. Not in front of a stranger.
The woman across from him seemed somewhat startled by the reaction, concern, or maybe it was pity, flashing across her face for just a moment, "Well," her eyes fell back on the paper, "I see you've also contributed to a few books. Anything particularly interesting about that experience?"
"I just…" he trailed off, reflecting on the very vague memory of staying up late into the night to finish editing his chapters of the books, while rocking Summer in his arms and humming a lullaby in an attempt to get her back to sleep, "While my wife was in college, I took up a few writing classes to pass the time."
There was a beat of silence as she waited for further explanation. Once it was clear he had nothing else to say, she frowned, "You never answered my question."
"Um, nothing interesting really to say," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck and shifting his gaze off to the side, "They were all fictional, just part of a short story collection type thing," he muttered.
She hummed, leaning back in her chair, glancing momentarily at the clock hanging on the wall, probably wishing she was somewhere else, "Why do you want this job?"
Money, he had to stop himself from saying it out loud, "I've always enjoyed creating things, and I want to put more of my work into the world," his voice was bordering on monotone, but he did his best to try and sound excited, because, really, he was. It wasn't often he'd get a chance to be part of something bigger than himself, to finally be useful, "Um, I also think that…"
She doesn't care. No one does. Your life is meaningless.
"That… I could…"
Fuck… fuck, he was crying. He was crying and he desperately wanted it to stop. There was no way he'd get the damn job now, all because he couldn't just control himself and stop being so pathetic—
There was just the softest gasp from the woman as she leaned forward in her chair, reaching for the box of tissues on her desk and offering it to Jerry, "Um," she seemed to hesitate for a moment, thinking over how exactly she should respond in this situation. How often would you even see someone crying during an interview?
Jerry remained quiet as he took several tissues from the box, wiping off his face and desperately trying to keep his sobs from spilling out.
"I'll call you," she finally spoke, voice almost reassuring as she stood up from her desk, "We can reschedule this for next week."
He couldn't remember what else had been said, or if he ever replied back. It was all a blurred haze of choked back sobs and whispers from other employees that had seen him leaving the building. Then, suddenly, he was in the driver's side of his car, still sitting in the parking lot as he finally let the tears keep flowing and the sobs slip past his lips.
He wasn't sure how long he had cried…
—
"I'm home…" he muttered as he stepped through the front door, not expecting a reply. Though the very loud TV did indicate to him that Rick was, in fact, home. He peered into the living room, shutting the door behind him, spying the back of Rick's head just over the couch. Some part of him wondered if he should greet him or ask if he could be quieter in the morning, but he thought better of it, starting his walk upstairs, only to pause mid-way as Rick's rough voice filled the empty house.
"You fuck up another interview?"
Jerry breathed through his nose, grip tightening on the railing, "That's none of your business," he shot back, glaring at the back of Rick's head.
The scientist laughed in response, taking a long drink from his flask, "Damn, what is that? The fifth one this week?" he turned to face Jerry, a smug grin on his face, "You really are hopeless, you know that?"
"Shut up," it came out before Jerry could stop himself, his glare never faltering. He normally would have ignored the comment, just gone upstairs to relax, but his very last thread of patience snapped. After the day he had, he really wasn't in the mood to deal with his father-in-law treating him like shit.
There was a brief, very brief flash of surprise that crossed Rick's face before it shifted into mild annoyance as he turned back towards the TV, "Yeesh, hit a nerve, huh?" he muttered, just loud enough for Jerry to hear.
With the conversation dead in the dirt, he carried on with his walk up the steps, silently reminding himself that he would be away from all of this soon, that he might get the chance to relax.
He just needed to pack.
(A/N): Constructive criticism is always appreciated! Let me know what I can improve on, or if I messed up on any characterization!
