seven

I listened to the ringing chords of Skype as I waited for Jack's face to appear. It was nine at night where I was, meaning it was ten back home in New York.

My live video feed came up before Jack answered. I looked down at my reflection and tried to find something positive. I had bags under my eyes that were far too dark, my lips were dry and chapped, my skin had a loss of color. But, I think I'm pretty, I think I'm handsome. I think my nose is nice, my eyes are always shining. And, most importantly, I'm alive.

I think it's important to love oneself. Even if it's just a little bit. There was a large gap of time where I was just floating around, not sure why I was on this earth. My therapist told me to love myself, to love myself like I'm more important than the moon or the stars or the space in-between.

No one can love me if I don't love myself, and falling in love has always been important to me.

I find myself wondering if Luke loved himself.

I think Luke is pretty, he's a messy type of pretty. His personality could approve for sure, but it's good enough for now. He has anything and everything he wants, I've quickly learned that that doesn't mean happiness.

Even though I kind of understand, I don't think I'll ever be able to truly understand how a human being who has everything is able to be so sad in life. How could he look so lost when he has a crew of people guiding him? I'm not in his head, I don't know his thoughts. Maybe he's the most narcissistic human being to ever walk this planet, but maybe he's not. I look at him and I know he's not happy, I know he's missing something in his life. I look into his eyes and, frankly, I'm not sure if he's alive.

It's easy to be breathing but not living.

He has people telling him where to go, when to go, and why. I feel although I need that sometimes, although I couldn't fathom having so much of my individual freedom taken away like that.

Jack's happy face appeared on my laptop. He had a ridiculous smile upon his lips and it caused me to smile, too. There's something about Jack where one just can't be sad around him.

"Hey, Bud! How's life on the road treating you?"

I shrugged and curled my knees to my chest. "It's going alright. How's New York holding up without me?"

"Who are you again?"

I rolled my eyes, "That's rude. I'm filing a complaint with HR."

"I'll override that complaint." He reached behind his computer, coming back with his favorite Great Lakes beer. "It's been a long day," he said quickly before tilting his head back to take a swing at the bottle.

"I tried to do an interview with Luke last night and he got shit-faced. I don't know what to do," I confessed. I switched screens on my computer, sending him the file of what I had so far.

I could hear his fingers on the keyboard as he looked over the few pages and notes. "Like, actually shit-faced or just a little drunk."

"He tried to feel me up."

"Oh," Jack said, biting down on his tongue. "Do you want me to talk to Alex about it? Do you want to come home?"

"No, no, no!" I said quickly, not wanting to get put off the story. "I don't care, really, I just don't want you to think I'm not trying."

Jack chuckled, "You take life too seriously." I could see the glow of the file I sent him in his dark brown eyes. "Did Alex say anything about," Jack paused, "anything?"

"No, not really. I have absolutely no idea what I can or cannot write about. I don't want you guys to get sued." I wrapped my arms around my shin as I watched Jack's eyes move back and forth as he looked over the first few pages.

He wasn't a copy-editor, he wasn't going to edit anything. Jack was simply telling me if I was on the right track or not. It was an approval that I constantly needed.

"Make it a little more personal, Mike. Show some fucking emotion."

"I barely know Luke!" I defended.

Jack took another sip at his beer. Jack wasn't a lightweight but I had a feeling Luke was. Jack and Luke were probably around the same height, Jack's body was able hold so much more garbage in his body than Luke was. Jack would have never gotten shit-faced after three beers. Maybe thirteen, not three.

"Use your charm and get the fuck in there. Get inside of his head, I know you can."

I raised my hands to my cheeks, "Stop making me blush."

Jack laughed, "You're so fucking adorable."

My boss and I had a brotherly relationship, something that's not often found in the workplace. He knew that he could cross some lines that he couldn't cross with his other workers. He couldn't pick Tina from the front desk up at the airport with a sign that said 'my favorite sex slave' but he could do it to me. And he has. More than once.

We were questioned by airport security.

"Does it look good so far?" I asked, referring to the first few pages of the rough draft.

"I think it looks fine," Jack said, "but there's always room for improvement. I want to read two sentences and go 'Oh, Michael wrote this', you know what I mean?"

"Should I do another interview with Luke?"

"Make sure Luke's manager is in the room, I don't want you getting hit on like that again. Unless you want to be hit on like that." Jack shrugged, extremely chill for a boss of one of the most successful magazines. "Try your hardest."

"I am," I whined, putting my knees down from my chest and resting my elbows on my knees. I laid my head on my hands, squishing my cheeks. "You know I will always try my hardest, especially when it comes to stories."

"I know, that's why I've got you on this story. I'm not saying you're not trying your hardest, I'm just saying sometimes you've gotta push yourself. Get out of your shell, take some chances." Jack sipped at his drink, his brain raking to come up with more advice.

I hate being told to try harder, I really do.

I put my heart and soul into everything I do, and it's never enough. I want to just be enough for once in my life, you know?

I want someone to look at me and be like, Whoa, he has his shit together. Fake it until you make it, that's a thing, right?

"Stop overthinking," Jack said in a sing-song voice.

"I'm not!"

He rolled his eyes. "I'll call Alex and nicely explain everything to him."

"Love you, Big Bitch."

"I really can't stand you," Jack responded, hanging up.

Five minutes later, I received an apology text from Jack. He loved me.

I work for a few magazines as a photographer, and at one of the smaller ones, this is literally the relationship between my boss and I. It's great, it's lovely, really. 

On that note, thoughts on Jack/Michael?

Thoughts?

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