The Boss Of You || Jack In The Box X Reader

Sick

Note: Sorry for such a long break between chapters!! I just wanted to get some more characters in the story

You decided to call in sick today. Sick is a pretty vague word, it can describe a lot of feelings. Such as horrible, blood curdling anxiety. The type that makes you sleep for 15+ hours, never really sleeping, but just staring at wall and waiting for something. Anything, any disturbance in this painful quiet wake. So yeah, you do feel sick.

You gave up on trying to sleep away the pit in your stomach. You wish you were a different person. One with strong emotional capabilities, one who had fears, but could handle them. One who loves to be loved. Instead, you're Y/N.

Y/N is a coward. Y/N talks boldly, so much in fact they don't know when to shut up. So many words with no action. Y/N's brain is a scrambled land of fear. It's not a land that cant handle good things. Good things like him.

Him. Him. Him.

You're no stranger to feeling like this. You know you need to get out of bed. Just do something. Some sort of structure could get this all out of your head. So, to stop your streak of weakness, you decide to do the one thing you know how to do. Distract yourself.

You throw on some clothes, make your hair look like you weren't wallowing in your own self pity, and leave your personal shit hole. You walk down to your car and grip your wheel like it's going to run away from you.

Your car isn't scary, you've been here plenty of times. It's familiar to you. Breathe. You're going to have a nice day even if it kills you. Music. Music is nice, music is safe. Good. Your hands turn on your shitty playlist of bands you care more about than you do your family.

Just drive. Let yourself leave this place.

So, you did. You drove to a random convenience store, and just sat in the parking lot. You play with the fabric on your sleeves, for some reason you feel like everyone knows. Everyone knows what you did Y/N. No one wants to see your whore self in public, just go back to bed.

You wonder if Jack told anyone. Any coworkers or friends or whatever. You think about how he may have talked about you, how you did. Or just about you in person. What were you to him? There is no way he actually loved you.

You unlock your car door, and slide out of the drivers seat. Everything is fine Y/N. God you need a distraction. The store bell rings when you enter, you see a grungy teen look your way from behind a counter. A super familiar grungy teen. With their super familiar grungy teen friend.

You didn't bring headphones on your way here, so it's not like you really had a choice other than to ease drop. They both had darker hair, one longer than the other. The first guy had a work apron on and smudged makeup, nearly resembling a young Robert Smith. The other wasn't dressed for work, their laugh was rather loud only drawing more attention to the two's conversation. He had sharper eyeliner on, he looked like more of just a stereotypical emo kid.

"Okay, let me set the stage for you..." The one off the job leans over the cashier register.

"Jesus Christ.. Okay, go," The guy with his uniform on leans in with him, they must know eachother.

"You're at a bar, okay? And let's say you're likeee... late 20's. You've had a rough night. Swallowing down your sorrows with cheap liquor. All of a sudden, the man of your dreams taps your arm. He's sexy, he's funny, and he wants you."

"Fuck him. Is that the answer?"

"Hey! I'm not done. So, of course you bite the bait, he takes you to his apartment and you guys are ready to get it on. He's stripping you, kissing you up and down. He looks at you with his dreamy eyes, his lips opened."

"Yeah?"

"He tells you he can only cum if you suck his feet. And he has a foot fungus. Would you do it?"

"Ew! What the fuck, Grey?! You do this all the time."

"Doesn't sound like an answer."

"No! No no no no no."

You walk past them to get to the back isle of drinks. You're not a heavy drinker, but today is one of those days where you just have to say fuck it. Runs in the family or something like that. A large man swaddled in a dark green jacket is in the isle with you. He makes you feel antsy. He turns to you.

"Hey, do you work h-.. Y/N. Oh shit, sorry," It was Oscar. You suppose this would happen eventually. It's a pretty small town, with even smaller people living in it.

"Sorry for what? Being in the way or..." You were already in a shitty mood. You might as well let your anger out on the stranger who dumped you.

"I.. Everything. I shouldn't of left you like that. I'm sorry."

"I just. I don't get it. You asked me out? I wouldn't of cared if you just told me you weren't interested, if you thought I wasn't attractive, hell, if you just wanted to fuck me and then dip. But you initiated everything."

"Listen I-"

"You liked me. You flirted with me. So why couldn't you just finish the job?"

"Y/N, quiet down."

"No! Fuck you! You don't know what my world looks like. You don't know me! It hurts when you just!- ... When you just. When you make someone feel stranded..." Fuck. You're being too loud. And now that you yell it out loud in a cramped local drug store at 3 in the afternoon do you realize you're kind of an asshole.

You didn't make a total fool out of yourself, there was only really you, the man in front of you, and those two kids at the front desk. Still, 3 people was enough and you didn't wanna make it any more. You rushed out of the store and just sat on the curb, watching ants crawl by off the pavement.

Breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out. You want to crawl out of your own skin. You hear heavy boots behind you, they stop before they almost crush over you. You almost wanted them to put you out of your misery. You smell a familiar skunky scent behind you, with a puff of smoke going over your head.

You bury your face in your knees. With outside context, it would be easy to assume the person looming over you is Oscar. Boots, smoke, a reason to be pissed enough to follow you outside. But when you hear the voice from above, you know it can't be a man in his late 40's.

"Do I know you?"

It was one of the workers. Specifically the one who was behind the counter, adhering his loud mouth companion. The word choice is what you focused on instead. He recognizes you. In that moment it finally clicks this isn't the first time you've seen those two. Of course, the two buzzed kids who come in every time before closing. Two more thorns in your side.

The gothic boy above you finally seems to get the recollection of your face. He swoops down to take a seat next to you. You never found the smell of weed very comforting.

"Need a hit?"

You lift your face from your curled up body. Your eyes are a little puffy, and your throat feels horribly dry.

"Sure."