The sound of fists slamming into leather echoed through the room in sharp, uneven rhythm.
Jett didn't even bother wrapping his hands this time, his knuckles were already raw from earlier. The heavy bag swung back at him, hitting his shoulder as if to remind him how useless this all was.
He hit it again. Harder.
Until the ache in his wrists finally started to feel like something real.
The TV was on in the background, low volume, some boxing rerun he wasn't even watching. Sweat rolled down the side of his neck, clinging to the edges of his shirt.
The apartment was quiet except for the soft hum of the AC and the sound of his own ragged breathing.
But no matter how much noise he made, his head wouldn't shut up.
It was few days after the accident, Jamie's face wouldn't stop flashing across his mind, pale and trembling, the sound of his voice when he called for help, the blood on his sleeves, the way his fingers had curled around Jett's arm like he was the only thing holding him up.
Jett growled and hit the bag again.
"Fuck."
He didn't even hear the door open at first.
"Jesus, you planning to punch a hole through it or what?"
Matt's voice broke the silence, familiar and irritating all at once.
Jett turned, breath still harsh. "Don't you knock?"
Matt grinned from the doorway, holding a takeout cup in one hand. "I did. Three times. You were too busy having a domestic episode with your punching bag."
Jett rolled his eyes and grabbed a towel, wiping his face. "What do you want?"
"Came to check on you."
Matt sauntered in like he owned the place. "You kinda ghosted the group chat, so I figured either you died or you were thinking too hard again."
Jett didn't reply. He just tossed the towel over his shoulder and went straight for the fridge.
"You want water or something?" he asked flatly.
"Nah, I'm good." Matt plopped onto the couch, eyes scanning the scattered mess around the living room, gloves, wraps, a duffel bag.
"You sure were all over Jamie at the hospital." Matt began.
Jett froze, mid-sip. "The fuck do you mean all over him? I can't help a fellow human being now?" He snapped.
"I'm not saying you shouldn't've helped, bro. I'm saying..." Matt drew the word out with a taunting smirk on his face. "You've been weird since then."
Jett grabbed his gloves, pretending to fix the straps. "Weird?"
"Yeah. Quiet. Moody. Staring into space like you're in a sad indie film." Matt was definitely up to something, the suspicious glint in his eyes warned Jett clearly enough.
Jett sighed. "Fuck off, Matt.''
Matt laughed. "You sure you're not thinking about him?"
Jett turned, scowl deep. "Shut the hell up."
"That's a yes." Matt sang under his breath.
Jett ignored him and started shadowboxing in the open space between the couch and the wall, each movement sharp and too focused.
But the rhythm was off, his punches sloppy, his timing wrong. His mind wasn't in it, and he knew it.
Matt leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You can keep lying, but I've seen that look before."
"What look?" Jett paused to look at Matt with a glare.
"The 'I'm thinking about someone but I'd rather die than admit it' look."
Jett stopped, his chest rising and falling. He turned slowly, expression unreadable. "You're seeing things."
"Am I?" Matt's voice softened just a little. "You've been restless, man. Ever since the hospital."
Jett exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening.
He didn't want to talk about it. Didn't want to admit that the image of Jamie, that wild mix of fear and stubbornness, had lodged itself somewhere under his skin.
He threw a half-hearted punch at the air. "I don't wanna talk about it."
"Didn't ask you to." Matt shrugged. "Just saying you've been acting like a guy who's lost his remote control and his sanity."
That earned him a faint smirk. The first sign of amusement Jett had shown all day.
"You're an idiot." Jett muttered.
"Takes one to know one."
Silence settled again, heavier this time. The sound of the AC filled the gap between them.
"You still didn't tell me anything about the dinner you went to." Matt pressed.
"For fuck's sake Matt, I said I don't want to talk about it. Get that into your thick skull." Jett groaned.
"I don't have a thick skull." Matt sulked.
"Yes. You do. You don't listen. Everything I'm telling you keeps flying over your head. You only believe what you want to believe, not what I tell you too." Jett shot back.
"It's not my fault I see things differently than you do." Matt shrugged.
"Idiot." Jett muttered as he sat down on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, rubbing his face.
"So are you gonna tell me?"
Jett sighed. Might as well get this over with. "Nothing much. Alex was just getting on my nerves, as always. Layla kept trying to keep the dinner lively and my dad well, he was just.. there. Happy now?." Jett asked as he looked pointedly at Matt.
"Whatever." Matt shrugged.
After a moment, Matt's tone shifted, lighter, casual. "Anyway, since you're done brooding, I came to remind you about something."
"What."
"We're helping Jamie bring Jace home from the hospital." Matt declared.
Jett blinked. "What?'
"Yeah. The hospital said Jace gets discharged anytime soon, Jamie will tell us when. Thought I'd let you know, since you-" Matt smirked again. "-clearly care."
Jett shot him a glare so sharp it could cut glass. "You're enjoying this way too much."
"Maybe." Matt stood up, stretching. "But come on, it's good karma or whatever. Plus, you get to see your fellow human being again." He teased.
"Matt."
"Yeah?"
"Leave before I throw something."
Matt grinned. "See you tomorrow."
The door clicked shut behind him.
And Jett just sat there, staring at the floor, jaw clenched.
His hands twitched like they wanted to hit something again, but he didn't. He just sighed, leaned back, and let the quiet fill the room.