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She felt warm in his arms as he held her. Gently pet her dark brown hair, out of its usual bun now, sweaty and smelling like some flowery shampoo. The radio was playing in the background, vaguely filtering into Jack's sleepy brain. Some re-run of a David Bowie song, maybe from the lodger album? Jack wasn't sure.
He closed his eyes and contemplated what the next few hours would be like. His brain was going a hundred miles a minute, and he had half the mind to run out of there, even though it was his house. Thoughts raced through his head. What time was it? When was his next shift? The radio had been playing some 70s rock, did he still have his old guitar somewhere? Maybe he should grow his hair out. Put his old earrings in, he wondered if the holes hadn't closed up by now. Samira groaned sleepily and opened her eyes.
"You're awake already? What time is it?" She got her phone from Jack's bedside table and checked it. Jack saw the screen vaguely in his peripheral, the numbers at the top read '07:30'. "I have a shift in a little bit, hope you dont mind." She looked at Jack. Jack wished those big brown eyes made him feel the same way Robby's made him feel. Reminded he had been asked a question, he shook his head lightly. He was glad they'd decided beforehand this would only be a sex thing. He probably wouldn't have done it otherwise, the guilt of rejecting someone who wanted him purely because of his own infatuation with another man was something he couldn't bear right now.
"Nah, it's alright. D'you want breakfast? I haven't really gone grocery shopping in a while but I think I have some toast." A smile met him, and she nodded a little before she rolled over to stretch. She sat up. She was wearing a new-ish looking plain white t shirt which contrasted greatly with Jack's dark green worn out sheets. Jack felt like he didn't even blink before he was out of bed, started stripping off his pyjama pants to put on his leg. Luckily, he wasn't in too much pain, and only briefly messaged the muscle at the end of his stump before putting on some jeans he rarely wore and an old band tee Robby had left at his place years ago and never gotten back. His jeans felt loose as he rummaged through his drawers to find the pants he'd worn latest and left his belt in. They almost dropped off his hips. Had he lost weight? He realised he hadn't cooked a real meal in a long time, and quickly decided that he felt it didn't matter very much. Samira left his bed slowly, she wasn't wearing any pants, but Jack didn't really spare her a thought as a walked quickly into his kitchen, pulled out a plate and two pieces of toast and some butter. He immediately felt the urge to reach for one of the blades hidden away in his bathroom, but decided to settle for a cigarette until Mohan left. He turned on the water boiler for his instant coffee. He could almost hear Robby in his head, telling him to ‚get a real coffee machine instead of that instant crap‘, advice Jack never took because it was just to much of a hassle, coffee was coffee right?
"Hey I'm going out for a smoke, pack's on the table if you want one!" he shouted into the hallway leading down to his bedroom, and heard a dissapearing
"No thanks, I prefer having my lungs function properly!" The tone was light, playful, but it annoyed Jack for some reason. They weren't that close.
He missed Robby. Missed lighting Robby's cigarette first and then bringing his face close to the other man’s to light his own. A brief connection steady between them through the tobacco and fire. The way it always caught Robby slightly off-guard, made him smile just a little and his face turn just a little pink. Missed the way they always shared eachothers lucky's when they were at the end of a pack.
Jack brought the engraved zippo lighter he'd gotten from his first commander to the cigarette between his lips and lit it. The metal was cold against his skin when he enclosed the small object in his fist. That first puff of smoke was always..well. Jack didn't exactly know how to explain it, actually. It didn't feel all too good, he mostly felt a little naseous afterwards and a little stumbly, uncoordinated. But it felt different. Different from the way he usually felt. And right now, he seemed to always be bored. He always needed to be in motion. ED brain he supposed, but even his colleagues thought it was strange. Normally he was nocturnal, but now he didn't get much sleep at all.
Ellis had actually pulled him aside, asked how he was, if he was sleeping. He didn't know why it was a problem. He was doing better than ever in the ER, seemingly getting more and more efficient without slacking on quality of care. He hadn't let one of his scabbed over scars or wounds show, so they weren't concerned about that. Jack had been staying up most of the days before he had work, and while that was normal for most people, obviously for him this meant that he wasn't getting nearly enough sleep, according to the laws of the medicine he practiced. However he also felt that he was fine. More than fine, actually. Most of his days were preoccupied with his motorcycle. Growing up he obviously hadn't been a 'car guy' or 'bike guy', and even after he came out he hadn't been particularly into cars or motorcycles. But then one of his old army buddies, one of the ones who hadn't cut him off after he transitioned, gave him his old bike because he was moving out of Pittsburgh and 'didn't need it'. He decided to take a look and well, here he was.
His thoughts quickly circled back to Robby. Always to him. The time him and Robby gotten just a little too drunk and just a little too close to each other to be acceptable in any other scenario. The way Robby's hands had cradled the back of his head, and the vague deep whisper about how soft his hair was. How he'd so badly wanted to close the narrow space between them from his awkward position, sprawled out on the couch. His big brown eyes looking so open, so soft. How Jack was the only one who got to see this. Between the stressful shifts and aggressive visitors in the ED, his eyes had none of the seriousness, the hardness, they usually had. Jack was probably just drunk, but he caught himself remembering that he thought Robby was flayed open completely, all for him. Only for him.
He frowned when he felt the end of his cigarette burn his fingers and stomped it out quickly. He sighed before he turned to get off the balcony of his apartment and back into the kitchen. Samira was out of bed, with pants on, and yawned as she walked down the hallway into the kitchen. Jack leaned against the island and walked quickly around to get to the counter.
"Toast okay? I also have some ham and cheese if you want it."
"Yeah, toast sounds great. I'll have some cheese, but no ham please. I'm vegetarian." Jack's cooking skills weren't exactly top notch, but he could fix up some toast. After he'd put put the bread in the toaster and turned it on, he got a glass of water and brought it to Samira, now sitting at his kitchen island on one the barstools.
"Thanks." She said, and after sighing just a little at the fresh water, she smiled to herself, as if she could see something Jack didn't.
"What's up, what's that look?" He said teasingly, smiling, and leaning over the counter to talk to her.
"Nothing, just the great thing about hooking up with a trans guy. No pregnancy scare at all, and don't need to think about condoms." Jack laughed a little bit. He'd heard this before, but hey, he'd take a compliment.
"I guess. But remember that condoms aren't just for pregnancy." She rolled her eyes and smiled again.
"Yeah alright, Doctor Abbot. You wanna talk to my gynecologist?"
"No I'm alright, thanks, just want you to practice safe sex." She was about to retort again, but their banter was interrupted by the ding of the toaster. Jack took her plate to put the toast on and pulled some ham out of his fridge. He was still leaning over the counter as she was spreading butter on her toast.
"You're not gonna eat anything?"
"Nah, I'm not hungry. Usually don't eat breakfast."
*
Samira had left, and he felt empty without Robby in his space. He'd made his bed, but Samira's sweet perfume still seemed to linger in his room. He went into his bathroom to shower, and saw a bottle of cologne he'd bought a while ago. Robby had stayed over for a while, when he was in the middle of moving, and he'd brought some of his toiletries to Jack's apartment. After months of brief whiffs of Robby's smokey, wooden smell, Jack had finally been able to see what he used. It almost felt tainted when he saw the bottle on his sink, like he'd been utterly foolish for thinking Robby's entire essence could be condensed into a small bottle, a marketable product available to just anybody. When he sprayed a little of it in his bathroom, he realised that nothing could compare to actually being so close to Robby he could smell him. It didn't have the antiseptic overtone he had at work, none of the slight cigarette scent sometimes more prominent on a stressful day in the ED. Obviously, he didn't steal Robby's cologne. He wasn't that creepy. He thought. When he contemplated it, maybe buying the cologne your best friend wears is actually weirder than just putting it in a cabinet. He could’ve probably hid it behind all his hair products, where he knew Robby would never find it, and then say it must've gotten lost. Jack couldn't let himself go down that road of thought right now though, he already felt creepy enough as it was. He missed Robby. Although he'd seen him at handover not too long ago and was meeting him for dinner later today. He felt like he couldn't wait. Usually, he'd already be on the way to work on his motorcycle by now, or reading up on cylinders and engines and whatnot. But now, all he could think about was Robby's t shirt on his skin, asking him if he wanted help with his shot, if Jack wanted to help cook dinner, despite his knowledge of Jack's lack of skills in the kitchen. He sighed, and went out to his balcony again to smoke another cigarette.
He felt strangely sleepy. It wasn't pleasant. He was anxious, eager to talk to Robby, hear his deep voice filter through his ears and override the light sound of Mohan's. He'd not dated any men before he transitioned. Being any type of queer in Texas was hard, but he didn't have it in him to admit, even to himself, that he was in fact not a butch lesbian, but a man. As soon as he got out of the army, he decided to leave that world behind and finally transition medically. Even after top surgery and being on T for years at this point, he’d struggled for a long time with his attraction to men. He'd never felt a particular pull towards any man before he realised he was one himself. Now, he still struggled, sometimes, with the dysphoria being with men brought him. Internalized homophobia or something. He shrugged and put his second cigarette out in the ashtray on the small table next to him on the balcony.
He returned to his, now empty, livingroom and felt his anxiety grow slowly inside him, rooting itself in his very bones and betraying his body with its grip. He sighed as he walked into the bathroom and pulled out a small medical kit he kept in the very back of his cabinet. The red little box, wearing a white cross, seemed to stare up at Jack, contrasting with the white of the rest of his bathroom. He loosened the hinge and investigated the inside of it. It was all there, the gauze and the smaller bandaids stacked up neatly in the little compartments. His gaze fell to the smaller tin box inside the space, strikingly pale and shiny under the harsh lights of his bathroom.
He took it out and opened it, the five blades inside gleaming back up at him. He picked one of them up, inspected it neatly. It had just a tiny trace of his past on it, a little rust on the blade that stood out under his steady eyes. He faintly thought that he needed to get new blades, before he took up another one that was cleaner and put the tin back inside the box. He sat down on the toilet seat before picking out a few bandaids and laying them on the counter. He picked up the blade again, and tested it gently against the skin of his thigh. He'd lost his jeans somewhere along the way, now sitting in just his boxers, the porcelain of the toilet seat cold against his skin. He went for a lighter swipe, knowing the damage would be surface level, easy to deal with, but still enough to lighten the feeling resting heavy on his chest. He saw his skin split to reveal its white interior to him slowly, before blood rushed into the space. He made another cut, slightly deeper, before sighing and leaning back against the cold porcelain surface. Nothing compared to this, nothing in the world could feel like this relief from the inside out, like he was actually letting the anxiety seep out of his very veins, little by little. The thought creeped into his mind, from the depths of his mangled brain; Robby. Robby could make him feel like this. He let the thought go almost as quickly as it came. He knew getting better for someone else never went well. He'd need to want it for himself. And he didn't know wether he could ever want something like that for himself and himself alone.