Sexts → Gerard Piqué

Jackie

Two days until Christmas! What are your plans?
My life, at the moment literally depends on coffee, you know?
Oh and here's a picture that made me smile— for no reason. Ehehehe.
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New picture message from Daddypk!

I was chewing on my lip, praying— praying that he'd be hot; yes, I was hoping to see his face. That was the least that I was asking for.

I tapped the notification, chanting the same sentence over and over again, like a mantra— please be hot.

They say we shouldn't judge people by their outer appearance, but I definitely did not want to hook up with a forty year old— moreover, I had even sent him a picture of my bare.. never mind.

Heaving a sigh, I tapped the chat icon and immediately closed my eyes— even before seeing anything. It's an instinct, you know.

Sedately and nervously, I fluttered my eyelids, forcing myself to take a glimpse of what was on my screen.

I gasped— like, a real, dramatic, gasp, on discerning the picture. The gasp was followed by two minutes of incessant gawking— I was mesmerised by what I was seeing.

"Jackie, who's that?"

The sudden manly voice literally kicked me out of my stupor— I jumped, screamed and unnecessarily found my feet– that too on my bed, like as if I had seen a ghost. I attempted to shove my phone under the layers of bedding, but unfortunately, my phone glided, slipped and fell; emitting a mini-shattering sound.

Splendid luck, isn't it?

Any normal person would've called me a psychopath; but then again, you do not expect an average human to stay "chilled out" when their brother sneaks into their room, at night when almost all the lights are out— only to find them implementing pornography.

The creep and mine– both our visions shifted over to my phone— well, considering it's condition, we can't really call it a phone anymore.

The poor device rested calmly on the floor— the screen that was earlier exhibiting the bare skin of some fine specimen on earth, had now shattered into pieces— and turned black too.

Cogitating about the fact that Jordi had known me for about seventeen years, four months and two days; he shouldn't have been shocked at my unearthly act, but there he was– on his feet before me, with his jaws on the floor and his vision glued to my officially ex-phone.

"What was that for?" Was all he managed to say after about twenty three seconds (I was counting); which felt like a decade.

The entire performance happened so fast that I, myself was at loss of an answer. I stood there dumbfounded; my eyes trained on my hell of a brother.

That's when cognisance dawned upon me— my phone was gone, officially gone. The device without which I was impotent, had been utterly blighted.

I felt the clear, warm liquid at the brim of my eyes, ready to trickle down any moment. All I wanted to do, was strangle my brother.

I glared at him, earning an incredulous look in return— it wasn't completely his fault that I chose to be a shaky weirdo, after all.

"What do you want?" I yelled– more like, tried to yell, but unfortunately it came out as a mere squeak that sent him bursting into a swell of laughter.

That infuriated me even more— the urge to strangle him was intensifying. "It's all your fault!" I cried helplessly, which made him laugh even more exuberantly.

"You're lucky I'm not telling mamá that you were gaping at some bare male's naked body," he smirked devilishly. "Buenos noches."

With that, he trotted off to his own room; still giggling to himself— Lord, please give me the strength and power to refrain myself from garrotting my devil of a brother.

I was officially doomed– I did not have a phone anymore, and without that particular device, I was dysfunctional.

•••

I woke up in the groggiest state possible— although it was nothing new to me. My face felt excessively strained; blame the rivers of tears from last night. My head was pounding, and my hair was a mess— as usual. Altogether, I wasn't ready for school, but I was positively late.

I dragged myself out of bed, taking one last glimpse of the broken device that was now on my shelf— I had made an effort to station it there, on the previous night.

"Jackie!" I jumped again; this time at my mother's shrill call.

Why can't I notice when people enter my room? Am I that hell of a daydreamer?

"It's seven thirty, Jackie! I've told you a hundred times not to stay up at night, but you—"

"Mamá, I don't want to go to school." I cut off my mother, which wasn't a good idea after all.

She heaved a sigh, before gawking at me dead in the eye– boy, was she scary.
"You're going to school," she spoke, after a pause. "And not in a condition that would scare your schoolmates away."

With that, she left the scene— such a wonderful life I had.