Harrison had been talking to Arlo about him enough that Mini Killinger felt the need to come over and fight with him. He was in worse shape than he thought.
“I don’t need anyone worrying about me,” Jett seethed, kicking his tangled feet. “Go back to Montreal and do something better with your time off, like finding a boyfriend.”
Arlo’s scoff was harsh and furious. “Apparently wedohave to worry about you if you haven’t washed your ass in three days.”
“I washed—”
“And also, fuck you. I don’t need a goddamn boyfriend to make googly eyes with. Why settle for one when I can have any man that I want, any day of the week?”
“Arlo, let go of me—I swear to fuck—”
Arlo dragged him straight into the shower and turned the water on, blankets and all.
Jett shrieked and fought to get away from the cold spray. Kicking and squirming, he finally got free of the now sopping wet blankets and pushed himself onto his feet.
The water was still pouring down on his head, making his vision blurry as he glared at Arlo. His shoulders were heaving from his panting breaths, and his teeth were clenched so tightly, he could hear them grinding.
Arlo looked resigned while he frowned back at him. Those too familiar eyes felt like they were staring into his soul and assessing all the pain lashing around inside him.
“You need help,” Arlo said softly.
Jett took a long, steadying breath. And then he lost his shit.
“I don’twanthelp! I want all of you to leave me the fuckalone!”
He stood there gasping and trembling as he glared at Arlo, daring him to shout back.
Arlo’s expression never shifted—never twitched in anger or disappointment. He just kept staring at Jett like he was seeing something he recognized in himself once, but had forgotten over time.
“Okay, Fraser,” Arlo said finally. “You’re not ready yet, so I’ll leave you be.”
Tears joined the wetness on his face as he watched Arlo walking away, and Jett wiped them off furiously. He was so fucking mad, but he didn’t know what to do with the rage building inside him.
He threw a fist at the wall, cracking the white tile with the force of his punch. But feeling the pain stinging in his hand did nothing to calm him, and he didn’t want to injure himself more than he already was, so he slid to the shower floor.
The water was warm now.
Jett curled himself into a ball and hid his face in his arms. He didn’t know where Harrison was, but he missed him. Jett was the worst boyfriend in the world.
What kind of weakling lost their shit over something like this? Why couldn’t he just get up and function? Why couldn’t he just move on and leave this horrible pain behind him?
Jett didn’t know the answers to those questions, so he sat in the shower in his wet clothes with his wet blankets and cried.
Jin: Not trying to be insensitive, but is this really bad enough for him to be moping around this much?
Bash: Youarebeing fucking insensitive. Leave Fraser alone.
Jin: You shut up, babo. I still don’t know if I like you
Bash: Why? Because I’m not fully into men?
Jin: What kind of self-hating shit do you have going on? No, not because you’re bi, it’s because you’re a fucking dick and a dirty player
Bash: Awww. Pauvre petit, does your arm still hurt from bumping into me?
Arlo: That hit on Park was less like a bump and more like a battering ram…
Jin: No French
