No words could describe how fucking terrible Jorel was feeling. It had been a few days since he had wanted to surprise Danny but instead found out that his other version was still alive and that the person he had loved so much was having an affair or something with the other Jorel. Well, it probably wasn't an affair anymore, since Jorel and Danny had broken up.
The Italian still wasn't used to think of Danny as his ex-boyfriend. It hurt so much. They had spent so many years together and Jorel had always been sure of Danny loving him more than anything and anyone else, and now, everything was over.
He just wanted to forget, but he couldn't, not being able to think of anything else than of Danny and their past together.
Like so often during the last days, Jorel was sitting on the couch in 'his' apartment, holding alarge pillow in his arms and being snuggled close to it, while he was silently crying. There hadn't been a single hour where he hadn't been crying, and he hadn't been sleeping neither.
Actually the black-haired just wanted to get out of this apartment because he was so disgusted by laying in the bed of the person who had taken his love away from him, and by wearing this person's clothes and using all of his stuff, but there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't know how to help himself, he was lost in this world, somehow. There was nowhere else to go.
The guys had tried to call him again and again because he hadn't turned up at any of the rehearsals, but Jorel didn't want them to see him like that. He hadn't answered a single call, and he honestly had no idea what to tell them.
Only Aron had come over from time to time, and he had brought something to eat to make sure that Jorel wasn't starving. The hybrid knew that his friend wasn't able to make himself something to eat right now, so he had to force him to eat. Jorel was glad that he still had Aron... He was his closest friend.
It was Friday evening, and Jorel was laying on the couch, staring at the ceiling. It was completely dark and silent, he wasn't even motivated to turn on the TV to have some distraction, instead he was drowning in old memories, like so often. Was that how having a depression felt? Jorel was not sure, he had heard before that depressed people had no motivation at all because there was something wrong with a messenger in their brains; they were completely letting themselves go, not able to get up in the morning, they didn't go out anymore to see their friends or to go to work, do to what they liked to do. They weren't able to take a shower, to eat, to change their clothes, and the only thing they were thinking about was how fucked up they were.
Well, Jorel hadn't shaved for like a week, and he really had no motivation to do anything, but he at least was still able to force himself to get up and take a shower because he didn't want to smell even though he wasn't going out anyways. Maybe it was a semi-depression or something, if you could call it that. Or it was just a really really bad lovesickness. Fact was, he felt completely lost and he had nothing to cling to, had he?
The black-haired took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, but they shot open again as he heard the door bell ring. Not just one time, a few times. And then some loud knocks, but Jorel didn't get up.
“Open the fucking door, Decker!”, he heard George say with his deep, rough voice. “I know you're there, okay?! I just know!” Again, he knocked against the door loudly, and he wasn't planning to stop. Not until the Italian would finally let him in and talk to him.
The only reason he was here was that he was worried about his friend. Actually all of the guys were, but especially George. He loved this guy, and it was almost killing him that Jorel wouldn't answer his calls and that he couldn't see the black-haired's beautiful face; he seriously needed a daily dose of that. And if Jorel had any problems, he wanted to help him. He would do anything for him, anything.
Still, there was no answer. He had considered Jorel not to be at home, but... No, he just had to be at home. It was a feeling George had. He just knew, so he wouldn't just go away. “Please, J! Please, just open the door!” The Irishman closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the cold door, standing there for several minutes. He was crying by now, being worried so much about his love that it almost killed him. “I just want to know if you're alright...”, he whispered.
In the next moment he heard noises from Jorel's apartment, steps, and then, the door eventually was opened. George opened his eyes again and he looked down to Jorel. The black-haired had his head lowered; he looked awful. One just had to look at him to know that he wasn't feeling well. Not shaved, red and tired eyes, totally pale... He looked ill.
George took a step forward and when he stood in the apartment he closed the door and turned on the light. Jorel cringed, and he squinnied, not being used to having the lights turned on anymore. The taller male didn't care, he wrapped his arms around Jorel and pulled him closer, holding him tightly. He wouldn't let go off him again, he would take care of him, because Jorel seemed to have a serious problem, even though the vocalist had no idea what had happened.
“What is wrong with you, J... why are you like that?”, George whispered, running his hand through the smaller one's dark hair which had grown just a little. As expected, Jorel didn't answer.
“It's okay, baby, it's okay... you don't have to tell me anything, just let me make sure that you're alright, okay? Let me take care of you... okay?” The bassist eventually slightly nodded, and on top of that, he snuggled even closer to George and clung to the Irishman. George's heart was beating a bit faster, and he smiled. That was a nice answer.
He took Jorel's hand and led him over to the bathroom where he made him sit down on the edge of the bath tub before George looked for a razor and shaving foam. As soon as he had found it, he kneeled down in front of his crush and started to shave the beard Jorel had grown. The black-haired didn't move an inch, and he didn't complain, he just let it happen and stared at George with his tired eyes.
“Now you look just as perfect as always.” George smiled widely when he had finished. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on the Italian's lips. He had tried, but he couldn't resist. His feelings for this guy were so strong. “I love you more than anything or anyone else, J.” George got up on his feet again, a soft smile on his face. “I'll make something for dinner, okay? You need to eat.” He turned around and left Jorel alone in the bathroom.
The soldier lowered his head. He smiled a little. Yeah, right... there was someone who loved him. He had thought so much about Danny that he had almost forgotten that there still was a person who cared.