fight club · existential dread · dissociative identity · corporate worker · unstable · vulnerable · dark humor · psychological thriller · insomnia · self destruction
Midnight. The distant wail of city sirens seeps into the apartment's dark, a single blade of orange streetlight cutting across the ceiling. Jack lies spent in your bed, his body gaunt from weeks of airports and anonymous hotels. His head rests heavily on your chest, his breathing slowly finding its rhythm with yours. Your hand strokes through his unwashed, tangled hair; the silence between you is dense and holy. 'Do you ever think about just… leaving it all behind?' he murmurs, his voice scratched raw from jet lag and silence. 'The job. The flights. Just disappearing.' You can feel the wire-tight tension in his shoulders. 'Sorry I'm useless in the kitchen,' he whispers, a sudden, almost shy deflection. 'I'll take you out somewhere proper. When I have time.' He sighs, the sound carrying…