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nonsensical-nonsence · 29 days

Text

I haven’t read it yet because I don’t wanna be sad rn but I’m saving it I promise

Also

👑🫵👸

For putting no happy ending in bold and cas

Not the hero we deserved, but the hero we needed

I love everything that you have written which is why I’m okay with (eventually, not today testing szn 🙂) reading something sad with svech

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐔𝐒 ─ AS³⁷

TRACK 4 ─── DOWN BAD

TTPD CELLY MASTERLIST !

౨ৎ ─ summary | one summer, one town and the fullest love you've ever felt all to be ripped away from you. life was pointless without the love of your life, your soulmate (even if you'd only known him for three months).

─ word count | 3.4k

─ warnings | dramatic af, oh god, so so so so so much angst WITH NO HAPPY ENDING (ur gonna cry by the end of this), where do i even begin? love bombing, LYING AF, andrei being mysterious asf, mention of life being hopeless, very depressive themes and like.. babygirl is GOING THROUGH ITTTT, maybe even suicidal themes (depends on your perspective), lmk if i missed anything else?

─ ev's notes | down bad has been on repeat since friday, it's genuinely so addicting (but like... the entire album is so?)

YOU LIFE FELT ABSOLUTELY hopeless, like the color was drained from it.

How could one summer change the whole trajectory of your life, you're not sure. Your entire perspective of love had been turned upside down, each day felt like a struggle just to breathe, let alone find any semblance of meaning or joy. It was as if the universe had conspired to strip away every ounce of hope, leaving behind only an empty shell of a person.

How could you let someone con you so easily? Make you believe that you were his soulmate, only to absolutely wreck you? You couldn't help but wonder if he felt even a shred of sympathy and if he ever stopped to think about you, like you did with him?

How could you have been so naive, so blindly hopeful in the face of his deceit? The wounds he inflicted cut deeper than mere flesh and bone; they pierced straight to the core of your being, leaving behind scars that may never fully heal.

You could barely get out of bed ─ you can't even remember a time when you didn't know him, even if you'd know him a short span of time. The weight of his absence feels like a physical force, pinning you down to the bed as if gravity itself has conspired against you. How could you go on without him, when every corner of your world still echoes with his presence?

It's as if he had woven himself into the fabric of your being, leaving no thread untouched by his influence. Even the simplest of tasks feel overwhelming without his guidance, his encouragement, his love.

You try to remember a time before him, a time when your heart beat to a rhythm untouched by his melody. But the memories blur together, distorted by the prism of his existence. It's as if he had always been there, a constant presence in your life, one way or another.

──

"Are you a local?"

You turned around to face the voice that had drawn you out of your thoughts, an annoyed expression on your face. But as you looked up to meet his chocolate brown eyes, all the irritation had quickly dissipated.

First, you noticed his eyes ─ they were so big and brown, you could feel yourself get lost in them. Then your gaze fell to his lips and ultimately, his smile and his dimple. Whoa, he was gorgeous.

"Uh, yeah." You got out as you managed a smile, turning to face him completely.

His smile widened at your response, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of warmth in your chest at the sight of it. It was infectious, lighting up his face in a way that made it impossible to look away.

"Great!" he replied, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "I'm here on vacation. Any recommendations on where to grab a bite to eat?"

His voice carried a hint of a Russian accent weaving through each word like a thread of silk. It added an extra layer of intrigue to his already captivating presence, drawing you in even further.

"Actually, there's this little café a few blocks down the street that serves amazing sandwiches," you offered, your voice betraying a hint of excitement. "I could show you, if you'd like."

God, what were you doing? You didn't even know what you were saying before the words flew out of your mouth. To your surprised, his smile widened into a grin as he nodded.

His eyes sparkled with amusement as he nodded in agreement. "I would love that," he replied, his accent lending a charming cadence to his words.

As you stood up from his seat, you took in his build; you just realized how tall he was. He towered over you, his frame exuding a quiet strength that only added to his allure. It was as if he commanded the space around him effortlessly, a gentle giant in a world full of noise.

Together, you made your way out of the café and onto the street, the sounds of the city fading into the background as you fell into step beside him. His presence was comforting, reassuring, like a steady anchor in the midst of chaos even though you'd just met the stranger.

As you walked, you found yourself stealing glances at him, admiring the way the sunlight caught in his hair, the way his eyes crinkled with laughter at something you said.

Arriving at the café, you found a table by the window. As you settled in, the conversation began flowing effortlessly between you. With each passing moment, you felt yourself drawn deeper into his orbit, captivated by the way his presence seemed to fill the room with warmth.

"So, what do you do, Andrei?" You found yourself asking as he paused for a moment, taking a sip of his drink before sighing.

"I'd... I'd hoped you didn't ask that." Andrei's tone came out amusing but you could hear the sincerity, too. "I play for the Hurricanes. A hockey team."

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in surprise at Andrei's revelation. "The Hurricanes? That's impressive,"

"It is, but it's very demanding. That's why I came here," he explained as a smile began playing on his lips. "To get away from everything, even just for summer."

"Why would you want to get away?" You asked, your curiosity getting the best of you. As you registered your words, you shook your head as you sighed. "You don't have to answer that."

Andrei's smile softened, a flicker of gratitude shining in his eyes at your understanding. "No, it's okay," he replied, his voice carrying a note of sincerity. "Sometimes, even the things we love can become overwhelming. I guess I just needed a break, a chance to clear my head and remember what's really important."

"I get that," you said, a small smile playing on your lips. "Sometimes, we all need a moment to step back and breathe, to remind ourselves of who we are outside of our titles and our accomplishments."

Andrei's gaze softened, a silent understanding passing between you. In that moment, you felt a weird connection for a moment. He let out a small chuckle as he looked away, a tinge of redness enveloping his cheeks.

"You wanna get out of here? I still haven't seen the beach and I've been here for two days." Andrei's voice was amused as his gaze finally flickered back to you.

His chuckle was infectious, and you couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through you at the sight of his flushed cheeks. There was something endearing about his candidness, a rawness that drew you in even closer.

"Absolutely," you replied, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

After that, the two of you spent every moment together. You didn't know why you were so drawn to him ─ it wasn't just how abosolutely beautiful he was, that wasn't even a factor after you'd spent the whole week with him. It was something more, something raw you hadn't felt in a while ─ or maybe even ever.

In Andrei's presence, you felt as if you were seeing the world through new eyes. He showed you the beauty in the simplest of moments ─ the way sunlight danced on the water, the sound of laughter echoing through the streets of your hometown that you'd walked in a million times (somehow, it was different now with him), the warmth of a shared smile exchanged between two strangers.

But it wasn't just the external world that he illuminated for you; it was your own heart. With each conversation, each shared comfortable silence, he peeled back the layers of your soul, revealing the raw, unfiltered truth that lay beneath. In his arms, you felt safe, cherished, loved in a way you swear you'd never experienced before. It was a love that transcended the physical, a love that touched the very core of your being and left you breathless with wonder.

And as you lay beneath the stars in his arms, the night sky stretching out above you like a vast canvas waiting to be painted, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. For in Andrei's embrace, you had found something real ─ something cosmic and eternal.

──

"Do you ever wonder," he begins, his voice soft but filled with a sense of wonder, "if there's more to the universe than what we can see?"

You both gaze out of the bay window for a moment, the night sky stretching out before you like a vast canvas scattered with stars.

"It's... it's something I've thought about," you reply, your voice barely a whisper in the quiet of the night. "The universe is so vast, so incomprehensibly large. It's hard to believe that we're the only ones out here, you know?"

Andrei nods in agreement, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Exactly," he says, his gaze returning to the stars above. "I like to think that there's something out there, something greater than ourselves. Something that binds us all together, even when we're worlds apart."

"Yeah," you replied, your voice barely audible. "All the time, actually. It's... overwhelming, sometimes, to think about how big the universe is, how insignificant we are in comparison."

Andrei nodded, his gaze fixed on the stars twinkling in the night sky. "But isn't it also kind of liberating?" he mused.

"To know that we're just a small part of something so much bigger than ourselves? It makes all our worries and fears seem so... trivial, in the grand scheme of things."

"You're right," you said, a sense of wonder creeping into your voice. "It's like no matter what happens in our lives, the universe will keep on spinning, the stars will keep on shining. It's... comforting, in a way."

Andrei smiled, a warmth spreading through you at the sight of it. "Exactly," he said, his voice filled with quiet certainty.

A comfortable silence filled the air before he spoke up again. "You know... when we met, when I said I wanted a break?" A pang of uncertainty flickered within you at his words, but you nodded, inviting him to continue with a gentle tilt of your head.

Andrei's gaze softened as he reached out to take your hand, his touch grounding you in the present moment. "I didn't just mean from hockey," he confessed. "I meant from everything ─ the pressure, the expectations, the constant scrutiny. I needed a break from the world, from myself."

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of truth. You listened in silence, feeling the gravity of his confession settle over you like a blanket.

"I came here seeking some kind of relief from the chaos of my life," Andrei continued, his eyes searching yours for understanding. "But what I found was so much more than that. I found you."

The sincerity in his voice struck a chord deep within you, stirring emotions you had long kept buried beneath the surface. In that moment, you realized just how much he had come to mean to you, how integral he had become to the fabric of your existence.

You'd felt like you'd known him lifetimes but in reality, you'd only known him only a couple weeks. And yet, in those fleeting weeks, Andrei had become more than just a passing acquaintance; he had become a beacon of light in the darkness, a source of comfort in a world of uncertainty.

──

Andrei's arms wrapped around your waist as you both watched the sunset go down. His large frame practically engulfed you as he stood behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder. The warm summer breeze caressed your skin, carrying with it the scent of salt and sea. You leaned back into Andrei's embrace, feeling his hands squeeze your hips.

"Let's go for a swim, yeah?" Andrei's breathe hit your neck as he spoke, sending shivers down your spine as his warm breath danced across your skin.

His suggestion brought a smile to your lips, the idea of plunging into the cool embrace of the ocean sounding utterly inviting. You turned in Andrei's arms, a playful glint in your eyes as you met his gaze.

"Are you sure?" You teased, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "The water might be colder than you think."

Andrei's lips curved into a smirk, his eyes dancing with excitement. "Only one way to find out,"

"Wait, Andrei-" Before you could protest more, Andrei pulled you up on his shoulders. You let out a fit of giggles as he carried you out to the deeper waters, his strong arms supporting you effortlessly as you clung to him, your laughter mingling with the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

"Ready?" Andrei called over his shoulder, his voice filled with excitement.

You nodded, your heart pounding with anticipation. With a smirk, Andrei took a few more steps forward, and then, without warning, he jumped, sending you both crashing into the cool embrace of the ocean.

For a moment, you were weightless, suspended in the currents, the sound of laughter and splashing filling the air around you. And as you surfaced, gasping for breath and laughing with joy, you felt a sense of freedom wash over you ─ a freedom that only comes from letting go and embracing the spontaneity of the moment.

Andrei's laughter joined yours as he helped you to steady yourself in the water, his eyes sparkling with mischief and joy. "See? Wasn't so bad, was it?"

You grinned up at Andrei, the exhilaration of the moment coursing through your veins. "Definitely not."

Andrei grinned, his smile lighting up his face as he tugged you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a warm embrace. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

He stared into your eyes, the grin still on his red face before he grabbed your chin and pushed his lips against yours. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

As you deepened the kiss, losing yourself in the intoxicating sensation of his lips on yours, you knew with unwavering certainty that this was where you belonged; in his arms, consumed by love.

His touch was electric, sending sparks dancing across your skin as you lost yourself in the intoxicating sensation of his lips moving against yours. And as you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed with emotion, you found yourself lost in the depths of Andrei's gaze. In his eyes, you saw a reflection of your own desires, mirrored back to you with an intensity that left you breathless.

He caught his breath as he laughed, giving your cheek another kiss. "I don't know how to explain how I feel about you, it's something I don't think I've felt in a long time. Or... ever."

"I feel it too," you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath of air. "Whatever it is, it's real. And that's all that matters."

Andrei's gaze softened, a smile playing on his lips as he reached out to gently caress your cheek. "I'm just glad we found each other," he said, his voice filled with quiet certainty. "And no matter what the future may hold, I'll always be by your side. You're like..."

He paused as he laughed, shaking his head with amusement. "My soulmate, or something like that."

You couldn't help but smile at his playful tone, feeling a surge of affection well up within you. "Your soulmate, huh?" you teased, "I can live with that."

Before you could fully grasp it, it had slipped away, fleeting in its passing. It was over before it even fully started. The summer had come to a close, and Andrei was talking about leaving back to Carolina.

You knew it was coming, of course it was coming. He had to go back to his home, where he worked, where his everything was. What about you? Hadn't you become his everything, just as he had become yours? Where did you fit into his world once he was gone?

And then one morning you awoke and he was gone.

It felt like something you'd seen in a movie, or read in a book. Confusion clouded your mind as you glanced around the room, searching for any sign of him. But as your gaze fell upon the empty drawers where his clothes once laid, reality came crashing down around you.

It was over.

The realization hit you like a tidal wave, sweeping away the remnants of the life you had built together over the summer. And in that moment, you felt a profound sense of loss wash over you, a hollow ache that echoed in the depths of your soul. You had known it was coming, of course. He had obligations, a life waiting for him back home. But that didn't make the pain any less palpable, the sense of abandonment any less hurtful.

Was all of it a lie? The laughter, the whispered promises, the moments shared beneath the stars – were they nothing more than empty words, hollow gestures meant to deceive?

The days following his departure, it felt hollow. It felt like you'd awoken from a daydream, something that only existed in your head. Was it really not as serious as you'd thought? Was he really not in love, as you were with him?

Life loss all of it's meaning, you never thought you'd be that girl: the girl who let a man absolutely reroot her entire life, just for him to leave. Had you really become that pathetic?

The days turned into weeks and the hollowness didn't fade, it turned into numbness then ultimately into a sense of emptiness that seemed to permeate every aspect of your being. It was as if a part of you had been hollowed out, leaving behind nothing but a void that echoed with the absence of his presence.

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself grappling with questions that had no answers. Was it all a lie? Had he ever truly cared for you, or were you just another pawn in his game? Had you ever really known him, your Andrei? The one who held you, laughed with you, whispered promises of forever beneath the stars? Or had he been someone else entirely, a stranger acting as the love of your life?

The uncertainty gnawed at you, a relentless beast that refused to be tamed. You replayed every moment, every word, every touch, searching for clues that would unravel the mystery of his true intentions. But the more you searched, the more elusive the answers became, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.

You found yourself crying every night, every free moment you spent bawling your eyes out over a man you're sure you'd never really known, just another stranger who had walked into your life and turned it upside down.

The pain was like a physical ache, a weight pressing down on your chest until it felt like you could hardly breathe. How could someone you had cared for so deeply have caused you so much pain? How could you have been so blind to the truth of his intentions?

You needed him again, life felt meaningless ─ no, life was meaningless without him. Nothing felt worth having without him. Without him, life felt like a barren wasteland, devoid of color and purpose. Every moment seemed to stretch on endlessly, each day blending into the next in a monotonous haze.

You found yourself longing for his presence, for the sound of his laughter and the warmth of his embrace. Without him by your side, even the simplest pleasures felt empty, leaving you adrift in a sea of loneliness. What was the point of it all, you wondered, if he wasn't there to share it with you?

No one would ever make you feel like he did, no one would ever manage to love you like he once had. It was a truth that cut to the core of your being, leaving you feeling exposed in its wake.

How could you ever hope to find happiness again when the one person who had made you feel truly alive was now gone from your life?

You tried to fill the void with distractions – with work, with friends, with anything that would help numb the ache of his absence. But no matter how hard you tried, the emptiness remained, a gaping wound that refused to heal.

In the depths of your despair, you found yourself questioning everything ─ your worth, your purpose, your very existence. What was the point of it all, you wondered, if he wasn't there to share it with you?

#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🎀 clover’s recs #andrei svechnikov #nhl imagine #nhl #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #hockey #nhl oneshot #hockey fic #andrei svechnikov x reader #angst #tbr #tbr list #tbr pile #fic rec #for the sad tho

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nonsensical-nonsence · 1 month

Text

WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT

TO BE THIS GOOD

𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 | 𝐣. 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

₊⊹ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 — following jack’s perceived betrayal, you try your hardest to move on and put everything in the past. unfortunately, he isn’t too keen on letting you go, and a night at the bar brings the two of you together, in explosive fashion. the second part of second best.

₊⊹ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — angst, reader feeling inferior, jack being an oblivious idiot, miscommunication, crying? drinking? being embarrassingly drunk, happy ending!

₊⊹ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — jack hughes x fem!reader

₊⊹ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — welcome back my loves! i’m deadass so sorry for the wait. life has been kicking my shit DOWN give a bitch a break. anyway! here we are with the second part of second best. thank you for all the lovely comments & reposts, yall are dolls. anyway, let me know how you guys like this one <3 all my love, emme.

₊⊹ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 — @dancerbailey3, @bellstwd, @kashee-h, @crazycat-ladys-blog, @brucewaynegfreal, @love4dlr, @jackhughesily , @leavethemonsteralive, @loveforaugust , @43hughes, @nathandoe , @choppedlamphandscowboy y, @bunting58 , @angelayse , @ru-kru , @sleepretreat , @nonsensical-nonsence , @maih23 , @toasttt11 , @womanestyles , @bunbunbl0gs , @5secondsofonedirection222 , @dianascherryy , @qb1calemakar , @sarareblogsstuff , @reapstheduck , @poufsouffle21 (if your name is white, i couldn’t tag you!)

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ; 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You needed to get away.

Somewhere. Anywhere. Just not there.

Not where Jack and his not-girlfriend girlfriend were currently doing God knows what in his apartment.

Images came to your mind—all unwanted, all hurling a new wave of bile up your throat.

Keys fumbling in your fingers, you managed to slip into your car, prayed to God that Brooke hadn’t mentioned your embarrassing arrival at his front doorstep, with hopeful eyes and a foolish heart that worked too slowly for its own good.

There did exist a small part of you, beaten down and ignored, that wished to see Jack’s figure silhouetted in your rear view mirror, frantically running, trying desperately to explain, or get you to stop, or anything.

But he wasn’t there. Just the lonely road, cast in the melancholic gloom of the moon.

Traffic lights and the shine of other cars blurred behind a wall of tears, crystallizing at your waterline. Heartbeat thundering like a racehorse, fingertips trembling with such force you had to white-knuckle the steering wheel to avoid crashing—you weren’t sure if anything had ever hurt this badly, not when Jack had tried to teach you to skate, which left you with a twisted ankle and him with heaps of guilt. Not even when Jack had forgone your years-long plan of boycotting senior prom in favor of taking Kaylee Hills.

It was funny, retrospectively; every hurt, every wound, every moment you looked back on to compare this pain to was tied ineffably to Jack.

Just as you were.

It wasn’t seeing Brooke, hair messed and eyes blown that cleaved your chest in two. No. It was the fact that Jack had asked you there, set a time, and forgot? Lied? Which was worse? Both equally managed to reach in and sink claws into your barely working heart, both conveyed the inexcusable message that Jack Hughes did not care about you, or your feelings.

Yellow shifted red. Feet working, brakes squealing, you barely managed to stop your car at the line. A part of you knew you shouldn’t have been driving in this condition, knew it could lead to a crushed car and broken bones—maybe even death, but right now, with a mind void of rationality, you didn’t care.

Had he done it purposefully? Your reeling mind flashed back to the night that crumbled the last bit of stability out from under you, when you’d overheard Brooke complaining to Bianca—maybe finally she’d gotten the exact same message to Jack, and maybe this was his way of severing all ties, even if it was the coward’s way out.

Flashing lights of a bar’s sign caught your watery eyes. Everything told you to ignore, ignore, ignore—speed back to your dorm and cry all night in Kaylen’s arms.

But you were mad, heartbroken, and in desperate need of something to distract you; something that would balm the burn traveling its way to the center of your heart. It made for a detrimental coalition—one you’d regret in the morning, when your mind dusted off the layer of rage and betrayal that currently chased away any semblance of reason.

But right now, it hadn’t dissipated. And right now, you needed a drink.

Eyes feathered to you. Neon lights of old-timey signs lit up your face, branded with the remnants of tears and ruined mascara. Normally, the attention would’ve rendered you self-conscious, made you think twice and just leave. Not tonight. Tonight wasn’t about having fun, or finding some boy that looked suspiciously like Jack to hook up with. It was about forgetting, and you weren’t doing a very good job at it right now.

Sliding onto one of the bar chairs, you saw the look of the bartender—a kindly middle-aged women with one too many tattoos on her left arm. Hair likely disheveled, face marred with the evidence of a breakdown, you knew you weren’t winning any beauty competitions.

Wiping your cheeks, you leant yourself on the bar top and sighed. “Um—just a gin and tonic, please.”

Had her gaze lingered any longer, you would’ve been able to see the pity, the foreknowledge only people who had lived possessed; you didn’t want any pity. The woman nods, setting down the bar glass she was wiping before going to make your drink.

Questions cleaved a cavern in your chest—one you were afraid couldn’t ever be closed, not by your desperate hands, the blood already pooling at your feet, drowning you.

Why?

That was the main one. Why had Jack invited you over if Brooke was there? To rub it in your face? A white flag of surrender he’d never waved, never keen enough to read into your hopeful looks and wanting touches; perhaps the realization had come, and with it, the itching desire to peel away the old blanket of childhood and finally toss it. Love always existed between Jack and yourself—but it wasn’t the same. Never had been. Foolish hearts plead otherwise, bent at your knees hoping for a miracle, anything that could bring you the heart of the boy I’d kept in your mind for all your life.

To Jack, you was the comfort of an old film—unchanging, seen over and over that the lines branded into his mind, jokes lost their luster. You should’ve given up when his heart fell into the claws of another, but, of course, you was nothing if not wishful. Something that was biting you in the ass at current.

Music blurred into a track of static in your head. Bodies came and went at the barstools beside you, ghosts, likely wondering about the girl hunched over the bar, halfway in the grave. The soft burn of liquor became nothing compared to the sear of heartbreak—such a visceral feeling you understood why now people claimed to die of a broken heart. Every heartstring felt a moment away from snapping, sending your barely-beating life-force into the abyss Jack had cracked inside of you.

Fraying memories, once the softest comfort, a reminder that you mattered enough to hold a place in Jack’s life became soured by the burn of new perspectives. Nights spent in his room, the glow of his TV playing some movie we weren’t paying attention to, rather captured by the conversations we’d rehashed a million times. Yet, somehow, they never got old. You thought that you’d cemented my place in Jack’s world, erected an effigy of your relationship that could never be struck down.

Regimes don’t last forever. His heart was conquered by another. And here you were, standing on the outskirts of a kingdom you’d been exiled from.

Lights smeared into multicolor, suffocating fog rolling into your headspace—it’s then the bartender ceased giving you drinks, when already you’d lost any shred of self-decency that remained in your unfortunately still-alive body. Hands on your shoulders made you start, before the kind voice of the bartender rings in your ears.

When had she come to you?

“Alright, honey,” she murmurs, helping you off the barstool and over to a booth hidden in some alcove, shielded slightly from the music and people—a migraine was already splitting open your skull. “You’ve had enough, yeah? Let’s take a seat.”

In no condition to argue, you obliged. How had I even ended up here, stood at the funeral of a love that’d never even been realized? Mourning the loss of something you’d never even had? Pathetic, obsessive—yearning for the best yet always handed the worst. Your cards were long shown, hand folded; you’d given up the game long ago, yet couldn’t escape the table, forced to watch it go on, to see the winners cheer and take home the prize.

Losing Jack’s friendship was unfathomable. Your safety net since high school, since before everything. How had one girl toppled the castle you’d built, brick by brick, lain into the framework of your heart?

Unrequited love wasn’t kind. No prisoners would be taken—killed on sight by the deadly blow of rejecting words. Jack didn’t even know. You’d never even had the chance to tell him what happened, why you’d phased from his life like a forgotten memory. Maybe that was for the best.

Maybe that was my closure.

“Okay, sweetheart—do you have anyone who could come get you? Emergency contacts?”

Jack.

Traitorous mind. Hopeful heart. He wouldn’t come, not when hooks held him back, ones he’d willingly sunk into his flesh.

You groaned, offering the bartender your phone. Only a few contacts were favorited—close friends, some family. Jack.

Barely registering the bartender dialing a number, living in the ignorance alcohol brought, you remained heartbreak of your own making, transformed into an unrecognizable mess by the rejection of a love that still remained in the shadows of your heart.

It was sad, really.

Did you even deserve to cry? When, all along, you knew this waited for you at the end? If Jack loved you—really loved you, in the way you did him—none of this would’ve happened. But the road was of your own paving, the long haul finding its end, straight off a cliff.

The bartender sets your phone down on the table, patting your arm. “Okay, I called your boyfriend to come get you. He said he’d be here soon.”

If your heart was still beating, even barely, you were sure then it absolutely stopped.

Boyfriend.

Boyfriend?

Only one contact in my favorites was a man. One currently preoccupied by his not-girlfriend girlfriend. No…

Jack absolutely could not come here. He couldn’t see you like—this. Rended down the middle by a melancholy he caused, even if unintentionally and unknowingly. Because then questions would come, ones far too difficult for your state of mind and being. All of it would flood out, barriers stolen by inebriation, left vulnerable by sorrow and the heady rush of collapsing love schemes.

Hidden in the darkness in the corner of the bar, you waited, and waited. Each moment felt like a death knell, the call of the executioner, feet carrying you to the gallows.

If he’d come, where was Brooke?

If he’d wanted to talk, why have Brooke over?

If he loved you—

“Jesus Christ.”

Cement laid into the grooves of your spine. And so swung down the executioners axe, severing the last of your strings and truly freeing your heart from its holding in your chest. Head kept down by the terror of facing your own slow-working poison, you stayed slouched, hoping the hole in your body would materialize and suck you straight down.

Too bad you never got what you wanted.

Fingers grab your face, settling on the warm, reddened flesh of your cheek. And so there he was, in all of his devastating beauty that once opened the gates of your heart. Cast into a time-warp, an eerie similarity to similar moments from high school, when one too many drinks left your head swirling and body buzzing—moments Jack would scoop you up and bring you home.

Always the white knight.

Always the hero.

But it wasn’t just for you. It never had been. Those hints you once believed lead to the key to his heart were nothing more than a nicety—the comfort of a friend. Hopeful people saw what they want, and you surely had.

“Hey, look at me,” Jack murmurs, forehead creased in concern. You wanted to tell him to relax—that he’d only give himself wrinkles, but kept a tight lock on your lips. “C’mon. I really don’t want to take you to get your stomach pumped.”

Did he care? Or was it the candied lies of a guilty man, the confessions of a criminal on trial? He had to have known—Brooke likely laughed that you came by, the stupid girl you were, and Jack might’ve laughed, too. Or he’d reddened, like always when he was nervous or panicked, recalling that it was you who was meant to invade his home that night—not his not-girlfriend girlfriend.

Mumbling a string of incoherent annoyances, you shook Jack’s hands off and wriggled away, far as the booth would allow. “No—‘m fine. Go away.”

A sigh rattled Jack’s chest. “You’re clearly not,” he grunts, hand running through his hair. Uninterested in seeing the pity you knew would be in his gaze, you kept your eyes down. “The hell were you thinking, getting this drunk?”

An argument of ‘I’m not drunk’ dies on your lips almost as quickly as it materialized—because, well, he wasn’t wrong. There was no explanation you figured would satisfy his concerned curiosity. None you wanted to give him.

Any route lead to a confession you’d locked in the vault of your heart. One you’d prepared to open to him tonight, only for him to turn away before there was any chance.

Without much thought, you found your legs, wobbling a bit before sending a glare Jack’s way. Blue eyes, ones once so adored by you, seemed a sore comfort now—with the worry swimming in them, one you saw through as a falsity. Conjured slights and fabricated feelings made you bitter. Had he ever cared? Was it a long-con he’d never managed to weasel out of until now? You’d always wondered why he’d kept you around.

Maybe Bianca had been right. Maybe it was a charity case, a memory of childhood that’d dragged on too long, unrecognizable yet unwilling to be shook off, because you hadn’t let go.

But if it was a mutual untethering, then there’d be nothing left. Clinging to a fraying rope only worked for so long; you couldn’t try and pull yourself up anymore without it snapping off completely.

“Whatever,” came your bitter response, walking past Jack on unsteady legs, made weak by heartbreak and other awful emotions. “Just… go. I—I’m fine. I don’t even know why she called you.”

Warm fingers clamp around your wrist. Part of you figured Jack wouldn’t have followed. “What? Are you serious?” Movements halted by a strong tug, Jack whirls you to face him, stood near the entrance of the bar. “Maybe it has to do with the fact that you’re shitfaced. You can barely stand up on your own, and you’re telling me to leave?”

Resisting the urge to stomp your foot like a petulant child, to shout at Jack to drop the facade—it wasn’t needed, not anymore, not with you—you instead resigned to offer a short-lived glare. “I didn’t ask for your help. She called you—not me. And I’m telling you I don’t need your help.”

Once more you darted for the escape. Night met you with the kiss of a cold wind, cars blurring by, headlights momentarily catching you in the light of sorrow. Not many people walked the sidewalk you found yourself down, hoping to escape the lingering emotions Jack carried with him, an unshakable storm cloud.

You didn’t want to be mean. To push him away. But the hurt he’d brought, the strike of a wounded and cornered animal, it was all on him.

“Would you—?” Jack calls, each footstep ringing like church bells before a funeral. “Stop. Jesus—why are you running? What the hell did I—”

His words made any restraint snap. You round on Jack. “What did you do? Oh, let me think,” you hiss. Never once had Jack and I argued—not really. Minuscule things over the years, but never had felt this much anger at him. For his obliviousness. For his failure to see who you could be. “Remember when I texted you, asked to talk? Do you remember what time you told me to come over?”

White bled into Jack’s cheek, a crook who was caught. Any doubt that he didn’t know, any assumption that he’d not intended for you to see Brooke faded into nothing.

Your fingers itched, their desired destination the bloodless flesh of Jack’s cheek.

You should’ve known. Really, it was on you. Beloved, desired Jack Hughes—the face of a franchise, the player ushering in a new era of hockey; and you? A face from his past, self-proclaimed best friend, the lackluster net of his hometown that only served to cage him, where once you thought it comforted.

“Yeah. Thought so.”

Again you made to turn, to run, flee the scene of the crime, where blood splattered over years of friendship and likely left it to die. How could you ever face Jack again, when your heart still held onto the small piece he’d offered you so many years ago?

“Wait, no—” A plea, the desperate call of a forgotten worshipper. “It wasn’t… I didn’t—”

“Save it, Jack,” you interject. Burning tears made home on your lashes, ones you refused to give Jack. He’d laid claim to far too many of your sorrows.

His presence was unfortunately sobering. Chasing away any head rush, instead plaguing you with the bite of reality and understanding that the hatchet was already in the heart of your friendship, what was seemingly a simple misunderstanding on Jack’s part was a monumental discovery on your own.

That your value, your shine—none of it was worth it for him anymore. Not enough to care about making things right over finding pleasure in some other girl.

Maybe that was jealousy, the green-laced words of the part of you that wished Jack could want you in the same way he did other girls, but that was a concept to consider another time.

Steps quickened. Another pair did as well.

“Go home,” you snap, unwilling to cast a glance at the ghost you knew was biting at your heels. Streetlights flickered above head, as if sparked by the tension woven in the air between you two.

Silence met your words.

Perhaps Jack had given up. Finally. Came to an understanding that what he’d done—no matter how small to him—had unmoored your entire concept of our friendship. A body without a heart could only last so long before the rot set in—buried before the flesh had even gone cold.

The part of you, a stark betrayal of your current philosophy, prayed Jack would fight. Raise up his swords and cut down your defenses as he had when you first met, molding you into who you were now.

A simple confirmation that he did still care. No matter how little that spread now.

But his silence wasn’t promising.

If he even was still behind you. No strength came to cast a look—to confirm two very different, yet equally terrible things: that he didn’t care anymore and simply walked away, uninterested in arguing with a girl who refused to be swayed, or that he was still behind you, caring enough to fight but not enough to have remembered a simple time.

Arms curl around your waist mid-step. Corded with muscle, a familiar warmth, familiar strength. A soft yelp escapes your lips, feet unsteadied and dragged back—straight into Jack’s chest.

He heaves. “Stop running away from me,” he mutters, “and let me explain.”

Despite the confirmation that he was trying to fix things, you still writhe—still fight being sewn back together. “Explain what? I thought you broke up with her. Yet there she is, at your apartment, when I’m supposed to—”

Clearly lacking patience, Jack’s hand covered your mouth, his annoyed breaths fanning over your ear. “We did. I broke up with Brooke. For one moment in your life, be quiet, and let me explain.”

The desire to bite his head off made your blood molten, but the desire to hear him out—whatever excuse he’d conjure, was far stronger.

Ceasing your thrashing, you found content in his arms—despite the irritation flooding you, all focused on Jack, he was still, for now, your closest friend. Someone whose neck had been stained with the mark of your tears, whose arms were molded into the shape of your body. Anger, resentment—it could exist, it did, but it didn’t erase the years between the two of you.

You desperately hated that nothing would. That even if this became ash, withered by the flames of rejection and despair, nothing would ever wash the mark Jack had branded into the flesh of your heart.

When assured you wouldn’t fight him, or try to argue, Jack turns you in his arms, chin tilted down to look into your eyes—remnants of tears made marks on your cheeks, painted red under your eyes. A mess of his own making, undone by the simple idea that he didn’t—or couldn’t—love you back like you did him. Sad, embarrassing, but the truth. One you were done running from.

Maybe there was no room in Jack’s life for you anymore. Maybe the past served only as a childhood bedroom he’d outgrown. Maybe Bianca and Brooke were right.

Losing Jack would be losing apart of yourself. For years, so many years, you’d built a fortress around your friendship, the mere idea of it being lost an unfathomable thing that made sickness swell in you. Now, it seemed so definite.

How could you explain your hurt, without telling him you loved him?

Simple answer: you couldn’t.

It was terrifying. Picturing the fall of Jack’s face, a defeated soldier, realizing he’d lost his closest friend to the claws of an unrequited love. A necessary death. One gun, two graves, burial of something you thought would be lifelong.

Jack’s shoulders sag. “I broke up with Brooke,” he restates. “I wasn’t lying. I wouldn’t—I’d never lie to you.”

You wish you could stop your lip from quivering, but you can’t. “So why was she at your apartment?”

“She showed up,” he responds, eyes darting, looking for answers he knew he wouldn’t find in the sorrowful lines of your face. “She—God, I don’t know. Something about grabbing clothes, or whatever, but then she answered the door and—”

Years of knowing Jack, yet you’d never seen him look as devastated as he did now. Not when the Devils got eliminated from the playoffs last year. Not when injuries cut his seasons short.

Somehow, that made it all the worse.

“I had no idea it was you,” he whispers. Cars blur by, capturing Jack momentarily in their headlights, the halo he’d always had—from everyone around us, worshiping at his alter. “If I had known… if I had known…”

Eyes falter a moment. From your watery gaze to your trembling lips. Heat blooms, such an inappropriate time for uncaged moths to eat at the lining of your stomach, but that was just what Jack did. Weathered every defense you had, bullet after bullet, finding the cracks in your armor even you hadn’t seen.

He always saw.

He always saw you.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Jack continues softly, a low sigh leaving him. “I know I did—I know things have been… weird between us lately, and I don’t know why. I—I just want to figure this all out. It feels like… I don’t know. Like I’m losing you.”

If any words could’ve effectively killed any fight left you had, it was those. You wanted to scream it was him—that he’d caused this, opened the rift that set you two across canyons, lit the fire under your bridge and left nothing but an empty ravine between the two of you, but how could he know any of that?

Jack didn’t know you loved him.

He didn’t know being around him wedged the knife deeper. Seeing him in love, devote himself to another in a way you wished he’d worship you, it only made it all the worse.

He deserved an answer. If this really ended it all, this night, unremarkable in every way other than its possible end, then he deserved to know why.

“I…” You stumble over your words a moment, blockade erecting in your throat. “It’s… hard, Jack.”

A lame response, but what more could you give? He’d taken every other piece of you.

Desperate eyes find yours. Hands follow, holding your cheeks with such delicacy you could’ve sobbed. “What is? I… I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me. You know I don’t want to lose this—you. So help me, give me something.”

The dam in my throat doesn’t stop the sob from falling out. “I don’t understand, Jack. Why do you keep trying? You’re different now—you… you’re this NHL golden boy. I’ve never met a person who didn’t like you. I just—I don’t get why I’m still the person you choose. It doesn’t make sense.”

Jack’s eyebrows crinkle. For a moment, he looks lost for words, tongue severed by your pleading blow. You weren’t sure what you wanted from him. To see realization dawn on him as he finally understood that this—this friendship—had overstayed its welcome, or reassurance, confirmation that no matter what happened, he’d never see you as anything less than his best friend.

And unfortunately—what started this whole mess—he’d never see you as more.

“What?” Jack shakes his head. “You don’t understand? You are my best friend. Time, money, whatever—that’s not changing that. Why the hell would I leave you behind because I’m some big-shot now?”

Couldn’t he see?

Something changed. When first he’d brought Brooke to you—when he’d gushed over their perfect first date and her perfect personality and perfect face, it all came to a halt. Because living in a world where Jack was tethered to another wasn’t one you wanted to live in, regardless of how selfish and pathetic and ignorant that made you sound.

You had always been Jack’s. He’d just never been yours.

“That’s—not my point,” you mumble, casting a glance at the stars, given light by the lack of clouds, sharing the sky with the new moon. “I’m sorry… for being distant, and not communicating. I’ve been dealing with… things.”

This conversation was devolving as time went on. You were desperately trying to avoid him digging to the root of this entire problem. Of why you’d been so hurt, of what you’d been dealing with, of why being near him made you want to tear your hair out.

Everyone saw it.

Everyone but him.

“What things?” Jack asks softly, thumb stroking the tear-tracks marred on my cheeks. “You know you can talk to me. About anything.”

You worry your lip between your teeth. Was it better to speak or take the the grave the one thing that you knew could kill any friendship between you? Choose dignity over cowardice? Safety over flames?

A pause, and then, “Why’d you break up with Brooke?”

Something flashes in Jack’s eyes, but he looks away. Hides, like always—Jack never was good with emotions, with vulnerability. He hated being picked apart, being read; but you always managed to.

“She…” he pauses, again finding your gaze. A click of bone accompanies his shifting jaw. “She said some things. About you.”

Not a shock. Brooke, for good reason, hated you since the moment she met you. Competition, another star that shone bright enough to capture attention—there was no reassurance you could ever give.

Still, she’d always seemed smarter than Jack’s other exes. Clearly, she knew of where you ranked in his life, an untouchable position if scraped would lead to consequences. Over the years, you’d seen it all—girlfriends, friends, all severed from his life because of a disparaging comment about you. That was one thing Jack had never tolerated.

Brooke kept her mouth shut about you. Until now, apparently. And it cost her Jack. Sick satisfaction wells in you like a wave, a reminder that you were important to Jack—even if not in the way you wanted.

The unfurling of your assumed truth of the situation gave clarity—but questions remained.

“So I broke up with her,” Jack mutters, the casual tone doing more harm for your delusions than good. Shouldn’t he be more upset? “I’m not going to let people talk about you like that.”

He confessed.

It was your turn.

The possibility of years of friendship toppling because of a single sentence, a confession you’d never intended to make public, it felt like an axe looming above your head, awaiting the words to cut the rope.

You breathed, deeply. Maybe the last time you’d ever share the same air as Jack, heat mingled with his own, a different form of home you’d never again find in a person.

You wouldn’t just be losing your best friend, but a possibility—a what-if, a maybe. Someone who, had the circumstances been different, could’ve given you his heart. But it’d never be yours—a small piece, never fully branded, never fully claimed.

“These past few days, since the dinner, I’ve been… considering some stuff.” Vague, too cryptic, but I couldn’t reveal my hand yet, even if everyone else at the table had already seen it but Jack. “I really care about you. I cherish our friendship more than anything, really, I do… but, I just don’t think it’s—good for me anymore.”

Disbelief paints a desperate picture on Jack’s streetlamp-lit face.

Pain rends you. The words already flew—a perfectly notched arrow sent straight for Jack’s heart. Target struck, perfect aim. Truth laid in your words; it wasn’t good for you, because you loved Jack, and it was ruining your life. You’d never brush love-imbued fingers across his face, never capture his lips, never capture his heart. People before you had—proven it could be done; yet, never did your turn come. Because it was never meant to.

Jack steps back.

“You—” Thrice again he tries to speak, each time words fail him. Fingers graze through his hair, a stress tick. The last thing you wanted was to hurt Jack.

In complete honesty, you hadn’t figured he’d be so… distraught. After all, it seemed a mutual fade away, one everyone figured was coming. Desertion of the past to build a future, tossing away that childhood shirt that no longer fit quite right.

What you forgot? Those people, the ones claiming Jack had outgrown you, they weren’t him.

Because with the way he looked now, the last thing he wanted was to let you walk away.

“Not good for you?” he asks, voice so soft, it barely carries over the wind. Jersey was freezing this time of year, an unfortunate somber sight that fell victim to winter like the leaves and foliage. “Are you—did I do something? Did I hurt you? Is it the whole Brooke thing? If it is I can fix it, I’ll make it up to you—”

“No,” you whisper. “You didn’t, Jack. It’s just…”

Years of loving him.

Years of pining. Of wanting. Of hoping.

Diaries with his name scribbled beside yours. Hopes of returning to your high school reunion, his hand in mine, the whispers of your once-classmates, confirming that everyone knew it would be you and him—the only way it could ever go.

Hands that built those fantasies were, at present, trying to tear them down. You weren’t sure why you felt so destructive, why burning the friendship instead of simply trying to salvage what was left, even if it was little, seemed a better out.

You looked at Jack. Traced the curves of his face and lips with admiration—something you’d always hid, did when he couldn’t possibly catch the gleam of your eyes, but now, you couldn’t find the shame. If this was the end, if your words really did send down the axe, so be it.

At least it wouldn’t be something you’d be buried alongside, taking up your coffin.

“I love you,” it comes out weak, too shaky, too raw. “It’s ruining my life.”

There could only be so many blows before a heart stopped beating.

You expected repulsion.

You expected Jack to flinch back, the force of your words—ones he’d never want to hear from his best friend—would make him turn tail and run, the vulnerability cutting far too deep.

You’d told him you loved him before, under the guise of friendship, nothing more. But you meant it differently now, and he knew that.

What you hadn’t expected was for Jack’s lips to part, contemplatively looking down at you. As if matched with a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

The moment spanned—left uncertainties it its wake. Was he trying to search for a way to let you down easy? To save face, save your feelings, because even if he didn’t love you, he still cared?

It seemed your answer would never come, until it did.

“You love me,” he repeats, tasting the words. A slow smile comes on his face—not conniving, not plotting. Content. “You love me?”

That was all he got from that?

A slow nod.

What was he getting at?

“I—yes?” you murmur, eyebrows furrowing.

Where was the rejection, the one you’d built yourself up for? The pitiful smile of a person who just didn’t feel the same? For better or worse, it was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was that grin, the one that brought soft dimples to his face.

“I—and it’s… ruining your life?” Jack says, keeping his tone low.

In the streetlight’s glow, he almost looks watercolor—made human by hopes, made yours by want. Cars pass, unaware of the scene playing out on some deserted strip of sidewalk outside long-closed shoppes.

If you looked up now, you could almost see the stars wink at you.

“You… you don’t feel the same,” you respond, as if already convinced of some feeling he himself hadn’t disclosed. “And that’s fine. It is, Jack, really. I get it, y’know? I just—don’t want this to be weird between us because it already is and—”

Hands tilt your face—callous, warm, home. The gentle brush of fingers weathered yours cheeks time and time before, yet different now, tender in a way they hadn’t been before. Words died on your tongue, muffled only then by the gentle press of Jack’s lips. A moment to register, one to hold your breath. Cataclysmic—yet contained, no supernova to explode your body. As if coming back from a long war, he kissed you—kept you close, spoke millions of words in a single action.

Perceived slights, idealized rejection—none of it was real. Fabricated in my head like so many things, brought to life by other people’s words, people who couldn’t have ever known the depth Jack cared for you.

Childhood wasn’t a burden. It wasn’t something to outgrow. Neither were you.

He’d never outgrown you. He’s grown with you, side by side, rooted in the same crack of concrete. Even with the years, the diverging paths that kept your lives on different sides, Jack never let you go—because he’d never wanted to.

It wasn’t a matter of pity. Of concern on how to let you down easy.

Together, you’d navigated childhood. High school. Adult life. And now… it seemed, love.

Finally, Jack pulls away. Lips painted in his saliva, you look up at him, wide-eyed, made once more that schoolgirl who foolishly vied for his attention, that couldn’t understand why he was her friend. Now, you couldn’t understand why he kissed you.

“Well, it’ll definitely be weird now,” he laughs softly. Even now, he could joke—with pink cheeks and wet lips and hazy eyes. “Because I don’t think I can be your friend either.”

Thumbs brush your cheeks. Red rises in their wake.

You were a fool—but not for the reasons you’d presumed earlier. Not because you’d loved someone who didn’t love you back, because you assumed he never could. No… now you were a fool for ever thinking he didn’t. That other people knew Jack better than you.

His forehead finds yours.

A heat that’d always been him. Jack. Your best friend. Your home.

“I love you,” he whispers back, a promise, one years in the making, imbued with the comfort of distant memories and fantasies that once only lived in my dreamscapes.

A chuckle slips from Jack. Held in his arms, in the middle of the sidewalk, full view of prying eyes and listening ears—yet all you cared about were his words. His oaths, that once felt impossible to comprehend.

Love that wasn’t platonic.

Touches that didn’t spell friendship.

“You’re ruining my life, too,” he says, a kiss pressing to the top of your head, crowning you with a love you’d reached for endlessly. “But for very different reasons.”

Sometimes, love isn’t unrequited.

It’s just unsaid.

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