BIG OL TW FOR PILLS AND SUICIDE
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Jack Kennedy laid there, staring at the ceiling. He was tired. So very tired. Maybe it was the pills. Maybe it was his lack of sleep. Maybe it was the fact that he was laying in bed. He didn't know. All he knew was that his decision had been made and he couldnt change it now. Not unless he wants to spend 10,000 dollars at the hospital, and Dave wouldn't be happy with that.
Jack was so, so very tired. He sighed and got off his bed, going over to take paper from the stack of paper that used to be neat, until Dave screwed it up on accident.
Jack was so, so, so very tired. But he still wrote. (with his Jack Kennedy branded pencil (double parentheses time demonic laughter I colored a pencil orange, gave it a purple top, and need a white paint pen to give it Jack's eyes. Then my Jack Kennedy pencil will be complete.))
AN: I have no fucking idea how to write this
Jack was so, so, so, so very tired. He got up and went back to his bed. He knew he wouldn't wake up. He knew Dave would be heartbroken. But he was too tired and numb to care.
It was 4 in the morning. Dave grinned as he climbed through the window, happy to see his Old Sport. Oh, the poor aubergine.
He looked through the house yet again. Not much changed. The stove was still untouched, yet slightly burnt. The microwave was still gone from the mac and cheese incident. The couch was still messy. The sex couch was still the only not messy couch there. (I HAD TO INCLUDE THE SEX COUCH) The floors still had scrapes from the different things they've done. Dave's mind wandered briefly as he thought about tomorrow, and yesterday, and Vegas, and all the different thing they've done together. Then, he snapped back to reality. He was actually kind of tired. Maybe Jack would let him sleep with him? (Sexually and not sexually) He climbed up the stairs dog style like the rabid animal he is, checked the other rooms, and stepped into Jack's room.
Jack wasn't snoring. There was a note on his bed. There were empty medication bottles on the floor. Dave being Dave, he got a bit worried, but then again, this was normal Jack stuff. Sometimes he doesn't snore, sometimes he leaves notes for Dave, and sometimes (all the time) he does drugs. That's normal. Combined, it made Dave a little scared. But he just shrugged it off. He sat down next to Jack on his bed, smiling. He picked up the note, reading it. With every word his face sank more and more.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck!
FUCK!
FUCK!
FU-
Although Dave had killed, helped kill, and handled bodies, this body was too much for him.
Jfk commits kay why ess and Date molar cry
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WRITTEN BY https://www.tumblr.com/average-dsaf-fan <--- HER, BLAME HER FOR THIS
