I was very surprised by this. I'd suspicions but never the less, the weight of his troubles surprised me.
Oliver called me last evening. Apparently Jack had had a nervous break. A big one. I didn't realize how bad until I came to visit.
Oliver met me at the door. Christ. He was ill looking. Sleep deprived, and disheveled, the place was a mess too.
If Oliver was bad, Jack was worse. He was crouched in the corner by a window, covered by a blanket, eyes wide as he gazed out at the snow falling. Shadows were deep on his face, and despite the blanket and the heat of the apartment. Oliver said on the phone he'd never seen him this bad. I agree.
I never do this to Jack, just because his mind is so busy with Sights, but I tried to read his thoughts. It was deafening and nothing audible or visible. Initially he didn't acknowledge me being there. The eventually he started crying.
We got him up and dressed in two hours. Panic coursed through him the whole way, and then we went shopping for his bag. He was much better in the store, but didn't like the sales clerk touching him, wouldn't look any one but us in the eyes. I traded watching duties with Oliver so he could get a full nights sleep.
Lets see what tomorrow brings.
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