The screen's neon glow flickered across Jett's face, washing him in a haze of artificial blue. His thumb jammed the controller buttons in rapid bursts, left, right, dodge, strike, but his on-screen character crumpled for the third time in a row.
"KO."
Matt whooped from the other end of the couch, tossing his controller down like he'd just won an Olympic medal.
"That's three in a row, man. You even tryin' anymore?"
Jett slumped deeper into the couch.
Matt squinted. "You don't look okay. Damn, you look ugly as fuck, that expression does not fit your cool guy attitude."
"Shut the fuck up, Matt." He snapped.
"See? That's what I'm talking about. You only say that when something's bugging you."
Jett grunted, eyes still on the screen. The game's victory music felt too loud. Too smug.
Matt leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Look, I'm serious, dude. If something's bothering you, you can tell me. I won't tell anyone. Not even your scary-ass brother."
A pause. Jett"s eyes lingered on the glowing 'Continue?' prompt before he muttered, "I don't wanna talk about it."
He'd came here straight from dinner. Matt didn't question him why he showed up here all of a sudden, infact, he was more than happy to have Jett around.
Matt didn't push. He'd known Jett long enough to recognize when his friend's walls were up. So he just nodded, grabbed the second controller again, and restarted the match.
Jett's grip tightened. His thoughts weren't on the game anymore. His father's sighs, Alex's sharp words, Layla's nervous laughter trying to bridge a gap that couldn't be bridged.
He could still hear Alex's voice, perfectly calm and condescending: "You're wasting your potential."
He hated that voice. Hated the way it sounded almost right.
He didn't want Layla growing up into that world, the one with pressed suits and fake smiles, where everyone acted like their lives weren't slowly suffocating them.
But he didn't want Layla growing up in his own world too, where trust was rare as a gem, where you didn't know who was a backstabber and who's a genuine friend. And then there was his father, always trying to reel him back in.
"Come home, Jett. Live a normal life."
Normal.
He almost laughed at that.
And then, admist all the raging thoughts, there was something else. Someone else. A person whose face he couldn't seem to scrub out of his head, a face that wasn't supposed to be in his head no matter how hard he tried.
Soft sweater. Wide eyes. Mouth that couldn't stay shut to save his life.
Jett clicked his tongue and shook his head.
He wasn't even gonna think about that. But he had no control over his thoughts as they kept revolving around him anyways. He wondered how he was supposed to apologize to him.
The thought of apologizing felt like a nightmare. Jamie didn't look like a person that would accept his apology and become friends on the spot. Friends, he almost laughed at the word.
Anything was possible, but he wasn't so sure when it came to Jamie. That boy was no doubt, a firecracker, sharp words, short temper, unpredictable.
It made him wonder what it would be like to be on good terms with a person like him. The thought left immediately it came to his head.
"Want something to eat?" Matt asked suddenly, breaking the silence and his thoughts.
"No. Let's just play a few more games."
"Suit yourself." Matt shrugged and hit start again.
They played for another few minutes, or tried to. Jett's movements got slower, distracted. His character stood idle as the enemy pounded him across the screen. He was thinking about Jamie, again.
One thing Jett realized, was that he enjoyed every one of Jamie's outburst, it always felt like one of the exciting moments of his life. Yesterday wasn't part of it, he definitely had to make up for that one.
Suddenly, he dropped the controller.
"What the hell, Jett?" Matt groaned.
"You hear that?" Jett asked quietly.
Matt frowned. "Hear what?"
"Like a scream."
Matt blinked. "The only thing I hear right now is this game mocking us. You know what, I didn't wanna play anyway." Matt dropped the controller and stomped to the kitchen.
But Jett didn't laugh. His body stayed still, head tilted slightly, listening.
The wind outside howled faintly through the vents, making the walls creak. For a second, he convinced himself that's all it was. Just wind.
He exhaled slowly. "Must've been nothing."
"Good, 'cause I'm starving." Matt said, stretching. "I'll order pizza. do you want?."
"Okay."
"What kind should we get? Peppero-"
A scream sounded through the air, cutting him off. It was distant, but they heard it.
Both men froze.
"What the fuck was that?" Matt asked, eyes wide.
"How the fuck do you expect me to know?" Jett shot back, already standing.
The sudden shrill of Matt's ringing tone startled the both of them.
"Shit." Matt swore as he picked up his phone from the couch.
"It's Jamie." He muttered to himself, looking at Jett wide eyed before picking up the call and placing it to his ear.
Why was Jamie calling at this time?, Maybe he heard the scream too?, His house was right next to Matt's anyway, so that was possible.
Jett's thoughts were in jumbles as he had his eyes on Matt the entire time.
"Matt! Are you home?"
Matt nearly dropped his phone when he heard Jamie's voice.
"Jamie, what's wrong?"
"Please," Jamie sobbed, voice breaking through the static. "Help me."
Matt was on his feet instantly.
" There's something wrong?." Matt whispered, walking to the door.
"What happened?, What did he say." Jett questioned as he followed right behind him.
"I don't…..stay here." he said over his shoulder, but Jett was already moving, fast and tense, following right behind him.
"Like hell I will." Jett gritted out as he followed.
They burst out the door and crossed the short distance to Jamie's house, the door was already ajar, and the light spilled unto the front porch.
Jamie's cries was the first thing they heard, before finally stepping in.
The sight had them halting in their tracks.