You're Up Awfully Late {Septiplier}

Just for the Ease

Jack's hand is a bit too shaky to fit the key into the lock. It takes him a few tries, but finally, it slides in. He pushes the door open, dunking in quickly before shutting the door firm behind him. His heart calms immediately at the familiar scent of the American radiating from the home.

He hears the scampering of puppy paws the moment he is inside. Mark's beautiful golden retriever dashes around the corner, barking happily as her tail whips back and forth. She pushes her head beneath his hand, sniffing his pants and licking his fingers.

Jack smiles, eyes filling with happy tears. He's felt devoid of affection for months, and the simple greeting of the dog makes his heart swell. He drops down onto the floor, letting Chica fall into his lap.

Cooing praise at her, he pets her golden fur, her warmth and excitement making salty tears trickle down his cheeks. She whines softly, tentatively licking his cheeks. He laughs, hugging her tightly.

"Such a good doggy," Jack coos, burying his nose in her fur. He feels cold, desperate for some type of warmth.

He pets her lovingly as she pants happily, tongue hanging from the side of her mouth. He glances across through the entranceway to see the sliding door to the backyard, remembering how long Chica must have been without going out.

"Do you have to go potty?" Jack asks the dog, taking it as a yes when she jumps up from his lap.

He stands slowly, his bones aching. Chica races to the sliding glass door, bolting out into the fenced in back yard as soon as the opening is wide enough. Jack waits for her at the door, watching her run around and sniff for the perfect spot.

His hand drifts to his pocket on instinct, fishing his phone from his jeans. He turns off Airplane mode, having turned it on during the plane and kept it on during Mark's panel. Like bats from hell, notifications pour onto his screen.

Dozens of messages pop up from Signe, though they push down so quickly he can't read a word from them. Missed calls come from his ex girlfriend and his brother, who's messages appear entirely composed of capital letters. A few messages from Marzia come up as well. The last one, however, is from Felix.

When his phone finally quiets, he moves to his messages. He starts with Felix, who has sent him only one message. It's the least overwhelming, though his heart still jumps when he reads it.

Felix: Dude what happened?? Marzia is freaking out because you hurt Signe????? She has been on the phone with her for hours. What the heck is going on no one will tell me anything???!

Jack gives a pained sigh, fingers hovering over the keyboard as he considers what to say. He chews on his lip before deciding on a simple message.

Jack: I promise I'll explain soon. Just keep everything quiet for a few days. I still have to sort some things out. I'm really sorry for everything.

As soon as he hits send, Jack sees a flash of gold. He finds Chica at the door, waiting patiently to be let in. Tail still waging happily, he lets her inside, closing the door and giving her pets.

He drops his phone back into his pocket, giving himself a bit before he deals with the other messages. His fingers brush a stain on his jeans, and he cringes, wishing for a shower.

"Chica, do you know where Mark's shower is?" Jack coos at the dog.

She gives him a puppy grin, tail swaying and big brown eyes completely oblivious to his situation. He gives her another pat, adjusting the straps to his backpack before starting the hunt.

He can only vaguely remember the layout of Mark's house, opting to head up the stairs. Chica follows, trotting happily behind him. Jack is met with a hallways lined with doors. He chooses the first one, twisting the knob carefully.

The door opens to a spacious bedroom. It must be Mark's, as his warm scent is especially thick in the room. Jack's eyes land on two different doors inside the room, and he figures one must be the bathroom.

"Mark won't mind, right Chica?" Jack asks the golden retriever.

The pup still has a dopey grin on her face. He supposes that means it will be alright. He opens the door full, stepping inside. The pooch walks around him, going to the bed and jumping onto the messy covers. She lays down in the crumbled comforters, watching Jack before yawning.

Jack leaves her for the bathroom, stepping into the spacious en suite. He drops his backpack, starting the water before digging for clothes. He curses himself for forgetting shampoo, hoping Mark won't mind sharing with him. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he places it on the counter as the bathroom begins to fill with steam.

He glances at his phone in time to see a call coming in from his brother, Malcolm. He considers ignoring it, doesn't even feel pressured to answer it as his phone is silenced, but he grabs the device anyway, accepting the call and placing it to his ear.

"Are you okay?" Malcom asks, before Jack has said a word.

"I'm fine," Jack dismisses quickly.

"Then where the hell are you?" his brother demands, tone turning sour. "Signe called me in a panic saying you had a psychotic break and ran away! I've been trying to reach you all day!"

"It's complicated, Malcolm," the green haired man sighs. "Just, let me do this, okay? Give me some time, okay?"

"What am I supposed to tell Singe?" he asks, anger dissolving. "And Mom? Half of us thought you were dead, and the other half thought you'd gone off the radar for good."

"Just... Just tell them I'm okay, okay?" Jack decides, the room getting incredibly warm with the shower running. "I've got to go, okay? I'll reply to everyone when I'm ready."

Malcolm sighs. "You can't tell me where you are? Or what happened? This is all I get? A minute long conversation?"

"I'm sorry, bro. Please, trust me on this."

"Fine... I'll do damage control. For now, that is. I don't know how long I'm going to be able to keep Signe tamed. She's really freaked out, Jack."

He nods, though he is on the phone. "I'll deal with it."

"Okay... I'm trusting you, Jack. Don't disappear on us again."

"I won't."

Jack ends the call, dropping the phone onto the counter. He strips his clothes, stepping into the warm stream. He washes himself slowly, savoring the shower, imaging the soft bed he will soon be able to fall into. The thought of cuddling up with Chica already has him smiling, his heart warming with his skin as his mind pulls away from the unread messages on his phone.