𝔭𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔟𝔞𝔟𝔶

open to: f/nb // from: rhys power plot: ‘ i didn’t tell my parents we broke up and they really want me to bring you home again so pls pretend you don’t hate me for the weekend? ‘ full plot in source.

          “ i need you to do me a favour. ”  rhys had no right to ask for a favour, and yet here he was, signature grin plastered across my face.  “ how would you like to spend some quality time with me and my parents? while pretending you don’t hate me, still love me and that we never broke up? ”

      one  hand  raises  from  the  steering  wheel  to  rub  at  his  cheek,  as  if  to  wipe  some  of  the  deep  confusion  muddled  there,  in  his  features.  somehow  he  couldn’t  say  the  right  words,  couldn’t  get  her  to  understand  what  he’s  trying  to  say.  what  was  it,  that  he  was  trying  to  say,  anyway  ?  maybe  that’s  the  problem,  that  neither  of  them  can  speak  truthfully,  that  they  continue  to  wade  around  it,  never  fully  delving  in.  he  didn’t  know  how,  exactly––  he  would  much  rather  write  about  it,  later,  unleash  it  all  with  pen  to  paper.  all  the  emotions,  all  the  words  he  wished  he  had  been  able  to  string  together  in  the  moment,  turned  to  lyrics  on  a  page.  “jesus  christ,  jac,”  he  mutters,  confusion  now  morphing  into  frustration  as  her  assumption  hits  the  air––  as  if  you  care.  knuckles  glow  white  in  the  car’s  dim  interior,  jaw  clenched  so  tightly  he’s  afraid  it  might  snap.  “why  the  fuck  do  you  think  i’ve  never  had  anything  nice  to  say  about  him?  it’s  not  my  fault  he’s  an  asshole.  but  no,  apparently  i  don’t  care,”  tosses  a  glance  in  her  direction,  then,  the  strain  ever  present  in  his  voice,  melding  with  the  bite  of  his  sarcasm.  in  truth,  he  did  care––   he  thought  showing  up  tonight  at  her  call  would  prove  enough,  that  he  valued  her  more  than  the  other  male  who  left  her  there,  so  callously.  that’s  why  he’s  so  confused,  so  shocked  with  this  sudden  antagonism  emanating  from  her  side  of  the  car.  “it  wasn’t  a  secret,  you  just  never  asked.  why  do  you  care  so  much  that  i  was  on  a  date?  you  never  said  anything  about  jess  before  this.”  at  least  not  to  his  recollection,  but  he  was  attempting  to  pull  more  out  of  her,  something  that  sounded  a  little  more  like  the  truth,  if  he  could.  doesn’t  push  too  hard,  though,  scared  that  he’s  misreading  it,  that  it  isn’t  jealousy  he’s  detecting  in  her  tone,  or  if  she’s  just  taking  her  shitty  night  out  on  him.  either  way,  his  decision  was  clear––  he  couldn’t  leave  her  there,  like  ezra.  even  the  sheer  mention  of  his  name  could  force  his  skin  to  crawl,  for  his  own  well  of  jealousy  to  rise.  grey  couldn’t  understand  why  anyone  would  waste  their  time  pining  over  someone  who  wouldn’t  even  spit  on  them  if  they  were  on  fire.  jac  deserved  better  than  that,  at  least.  he  wasn’t  sure  if  he  was  what  she  deserved,  if  he  might  be  any  better,  in  the  end,  but  at  least  he  wouldn’t  dare  to  ditch  her  outside  a  busy  club  in  the  middle  of  the  night.  seems  as  though  she’s  finally  realizing  that,  too,  or  at  least,  the  tide’s  shifting,  somewhat,  glancing  over  at  her  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  as  she  presses  her  hands  to  her  face,  brows  furrowing  softly.  wants  to  turn  to  her,  take  her  hands  in  his  own,  but  he  can’t,  obviously,  at  least  not  yet.  there’s  a  yellow  light  up  ahead,  however,  one  that  quickly  fades  to  red,  his  foot  pressing  down  on  the  brake,  to  bring  them  to  a  somewhat  jerky  stop.  “it’s  fine,  i  say  stupid  shit  all  the  time,”  he  breathes,  turning  then  to  look  at  her,  almost  as  if  he’s  daring  her  to  say  it.  he’s  no  longer  focusing  on  the  road,  or  on  the  light  ahead.  didn’t  matter  if  it  changed––  he  wasn’t  moving  from  this  spot.  features  twist  with  confusion,  however,  at  her  words,  a  strangled  breath  slipping  past  his  lips.  “you  think  that  song’s  about  jess?”  the  denial’s  written  plainly  on  his  features,  unknowingly  shaking  his  head,  as  if  on  instinct.  “no,  tell  me  who  you  thought  it  was  about,  jac.”  it’s  spoken  softly,  even  as  he  places  the  car  into  park,  eyes  checking  the  rearview  mirror  to  assure  there’s  no  one  behind  them.  “we’re  not  moving  until  you  do.”