It All Started in Detention

Chapter Twenty-One

Jack watched as Davey struggled with what to wear.

He'd left for his own home hours before, saying hello to his family—he may have shoved Crutchie, but he deserved it because the dick (term of endearment) did punch him in his stomach upon entering their room—and changing for the party. One tiresome walk later, and Jack was at the Jacobs residence, waiting for his friend.

To say Davey was an underprepared mess was being nice about it. Jack had been sitting in the same position for the better part of forty-five minutes, and he's positive he knows the ups and downs of his bedroom better than the owner. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm looking for something to wear", Davey mumbled, shifting his clothes to the side. Hangers scraped the wooden bar holding them,  and his eyes were laser focused on what little clothing he had. It seemed like his clothes walked away and left him for dead. "Son of a-"

"Chill", Jack shouted, glancing at the front door. "I don't want your folks to think I had any negative influence on you."

Davey sighed, turning around to face Jack. "I have nothing to wear", he whined, and Jack snickered. "You know what? I just won't go!"

That appeared to be less funny. "Okay, hold on, don't- don't say that! Look, I'll even help you find something to wear."

Jack stood up and pushed Davey out of his way friend-like, more than ambitious. He ignored what he assumed Davey thought was whispering curses, and pushed hangers behind each other through the closet, hoping he'd find anything worth wearing. But Davey's closet was disgustingly plain.

It was clean, more than organized which Jack appreciated—he's seen Crutchie's closet, and even worse, Race's—and shirts matched their colors better than his own. It was aesthetically pleasing, but it was only possible with the endless amount of flannels, t-shirts, and jeans. "What the fuck are you, a cartoon character?"

Davey rolled his eyes, making his way to sit on his bed. "Get out of my closet if you're going to judge."

"First off, your closet is glass, babe", Jack joked, and Davey threw a pillow at him. "Secondly, I feel like I'm looking in the closet of the blue cat from that one show."

"To my credit", Davey began, and Jack scoffed, "some of those are my brother's."

He was lying. Les wouldn't be caught dead owning a flannel, but he definitely stole some of Davey's. "Yeah, well, you're the only guy I'd recommend to a Forever 21."

"Whatever."

"Here."

Davey caught the clothes Jack tossed him, humiliated that a boy who'd only seen his front door and kitchen prior was able to go through his closet and make an outfit. Sarah herself had to admit defeat, and God knows Les wouldn't attempt to try. "Thanks."

"Yeah, yeah, now get dressed", Jack demanded, making his way out of the room. "And hurry up! Blink will kill me dead if I'm not there before Delancey number one and two."

Davey shook his head and chuckled, waiting to watch his door contact the frame. "What a weirdo."

He looked down at the clothes in his hand, surprised at the relatively decent outfit created for him, and placed them onto Les's bed. He wouldn't care, Davey thought, before tossing off his shirt. Les never cares.

Jack lingered at the door for longer than what felt normal—Him: A stalker? A friend? Who in their mind had any premonition to what Jack Kelly was—until he made his way down the stairs, where he was met with the ground level floor and the sounds of a TV carrying throughout the room. He'd expected Sarah to be down there, probably having forgot something and gotten enamored with the show playing throughout the apartment, and he'd gone to join her.