Jack was—for lack of a better word—clingy, very clingy.

Whenever you two were together, he'd crave your touch, your attention, the soft feeling of your fingers as they ran through his hair or as they traced his facial features—it was calming to him—to lay his head on your lap while you caressed his face, soothing the rough day he might've had away like a smooth balm.

However, in the rare moments where you two weren't together, Jack would find himself sitting on the couch, his eyes staring intently at the only telephone his and Eric's apartment had and waiting patiently for it to ring, then he'd pick it up, hoping it would be your voice on the other line—because God forgive him your voice was like the angelic singing of paradise itself, making his heart feel like it was on cloud nine and slowly floating away to heaven whenever he heard it utter from your lips.

Saying he was in love with you would be an understatement, he was completely and utterly infatuated with you.

Like right now, when he's sitting on the couch, his foot tapping against the hard-wood floor as he stared at the cream-colored telephone, waiting for the moment it rings, the sounds of the show playing on TV in the background serving as white noise as he sat in silence. Only when the phone rang once and he picked it up that he actually beamed and showed a flicker of emotion crossing his face.

"Hey babe!" — Jack greeted, then quickly cleared his throat so that he wouldn't sound too eager, though the fact that he picked up right away already made it clear to you. "So uh- how's it going? How's your day?"