Rainy Days

Chapter Fifty-Two: Hey Jordie's Drunk and I High-Key Wanna Die

[the golden crown speakeasy's janitor closet, new york city–late thursday night]

FIVE HUFFED angrily and crossed his arms as Jordan collapsed onto a cot. "You are such a bitch sometimes!"

"Me? I'm the bitch?" Jordan seethed, getting to his feet. He swayed a bit and Five presses his lips together, hating how much taller Jordan was. "You're the one who–who doesn't let me in on anything, who forgets I'm there, who lets people call me a whore! If anyone's a bitch, it's you, Five!"

"I was trying to protect you!" Five said through gritted teeth. "Teegan and Suzie are dangerous. They didn't get fired just because they where going to try and kill Lincoln. They where trying to do so much more. They where going to do some Bonnie and Clyde shit. Their plan was to hunt down famous people—Julius Caesar, Hitler, Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Zuckerburg–"

"Who the hell is Mark Zuckerburg?"

"He's the guy that made–you know what, it doesn't matter!" Five stomped his foot like a toddler. "They where planning on fucking time up beyond repair. I found their plan and turned them in. I mean, sure, I wanna change time but not to that extent. Suzie and Teegan figured out that I was the one that got them exiled, and they've been pissed off since. It's been decades since then, Jordan, and I don't want them to have a reason to kill you. Because they already want too, Jordan."

"I don't care!" Jordan said, his voice cracking. "I just..." he trailed off, wiping tears harshly from his eyes.

"What, Jordan? You just what?"

"It's just that...I don't know," Jordan sighed heavily. "I don't know. I don't know. I don't know anything."

Five frowned. Shit. Oh, shit. Jordan was crying. Suzie was right, he was an angry-emotional drunk. Fuck. He needed to help, he's been to mean, should've done this lighter. But he had too, right, because Teegan and Suzie had to think that he wasn't important.

"What...do you wanna talk about anything?" Five said. Jordan looked down at him, his hazel-honey eyes covered in tears.

"No," Jordan mumbled, sniffling like a grandpa with a cold. "I don't wanna talk."

Fives skin crawled. Fucking Christ, did he need to learn how to comfort people. Maybe colleges taught a class. Could he even take college classes?

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I don't wanna talk to you." Jordan snapped, falling back onto the cot. He rolled to his side and faced the wall, sniffling.

Five sighed. Fuck. He fucked everything up. Shit.

"Jordan?" He whispered. The other boy made a small grunting sound. "There's only one bed."

Jordan huffed and scooted over. Five sighed again and crawled onto the bed, backs touching.

"I hate you," Jordan muttered.

"Okay."

"You're mean and rude and an asshole."

"True."

"And you have very pretty eyes."

"...thank you?"

"They're like meadows. Like in the movies, where people are always playing in valleys? That shade of green. All sunshine-y and loving. Except yours aren't super loving, they're colder. Like diamonds. But green."

Five rolled over so that he was facing Jordan's back. "You are a weird drunk."

"Thank you." Jordan said, pouty.