𝗚𝗢𝗧𝟳 𝗜𝗠𝗔𝗚𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 𝟮

alzheimer's ; jackson

Trying desperately to be as silent as possible, you made sure every single footfall was muffled. Even when you turned the key in the lock, you winced as you heard the slight sonorous sound it made as it clicked open. Glancing downwards, you cursed inwardly, realizing that your boyfriend was home seeing his shoes arranged neatly on the rack. Praying that he was so tired that he had knocked out the moment he got home, like how we always did.

But then again, maybe not.

Stepping out of your worn sneakers, you gulped, realizing that the living room light was still on, never a good sign. Steeling yourself for the possible wave of questions that you would have to face, you stepped out of the darkness of the entrance, wincing as the bright light filtered through your eyelids. Your eyes adjusted, refocusing and you were waiting to see Jackson, with his arms crossed, a scowl on his face, his husky voice demanding why you had been out so late.

It was true, you had been out longer than normal, the clock was beginning to strike 1, but you couldn't bear yourself to leave, who knows how much time you had left? Every moment left was precious and they were slipping away from you like golden sand through the neck of an hourglass, each grain bringing you closer to finality.

Weirdly, the scolding you were expecting never came. Blinking open your tired eyes, you saw that Jackson in fact was no where to be seen. His bag was on the couch, you could smell the tell-tale trace of his cologne, his clothes were bundled up in the laundry basket, all little pieces of evidence showing that he was at home.

Your bedroom door was slightly ajar, but there were no sounds of running water which either meant that Jackson was asleep or... he was waiting for you. Praying for the former, you stepped into the room quietly, and sighed in relief when you saw your boyfriend curled into a ball at his side of the bed his dark hair splayed on the pillow, a few wisps curling on his forehead as he took steady breaths, his chest falling rhythmically.

You hated lying to him like this but you really didn't have much of a choice. It was your problem and you were going to have to plough through it, teeth gritted. Jackson already had more than enough on his plate without you adding to the stress.

Clucking disapprovingly at the way Jackson slept, you draped a blanket over him as he snuggled into the bed, before resuming his dreams.

The Next Morning

You frowned at the amount of money that was in your purse. There were really only a couple of dollars left, the most 20. You thought of your ever depleting bank account and wondered how you were going to survive on such a meager sum of cash. You began thinking of eating options, maybe if you limited your meals... or skipping them would help. Nibbling at your lower lip, still contemplating options, you heard Jackson come down from the bedroom, his hair wet and plastered against his face, a huge smile on his face, as you hastily shoved away your purse out of eyesight.

But apparently, not fast enough. His dark eyes flickered to the purse that was now behind your back on the kitchen counter and pursed his lips. Silently, and without question, he plucked it from behind your back after much protest.

'You don't have enough money,' he sighed to himself, looking at you. 'Come on I'll give you some,'

'Jackson, no,' you affirmed, not wanting him to spend his money unnecessarily on you.

'I'm not going to leave my girlfriend to starve,' he said, just as sternly as he reached for his wallet, pulling a few notes from it, and sticking them into your purse.

'Jackson,' you admonished. 'I thought we agreed on this, I don't want to take your money from you,'

'Well, that's ridiculous,' he muttered. 'What's mine is yours so that means my money is your money, simple as that,' he concluded.