grief overwhelming jack (proper going crazy, devastating movie scene kinda thing) and robby going to him and comforting him?
You’re prompt was very hurt/comfort and I’m sorry anon but I kinda flopped on the “comfort” part 😖
Robby is welcomed home by pitch black darkness and distant rustling coming from his and Jack’s bedroom.
“Jack?” He calls. “Everything good?”
He flicks a light on. Nothing looks out of place, but the air is uneasy.
“Jack,” he shouts again. “You good babe?”
He creeps further into the house. A shallow warm light streams from under the shut door of their room. He pushes the door open; inside, Jack is shoving clothes into a suitcase, another sits already packed at the end of the bed.
Jack’s neck snaps toward him then away in an instant, as if looking at Robby burns. “Leaving.”
“Did something happen?” Robby asks. Is your sister okay?”
“She’s fine.” Jack scurries over to the closet and pulls out the last of his clothing. “I just need to get out.”
Robby sighs, tucking his chin against his chest. He knew he shouldn’t have gone to work. It was stupid of him to trust Jack when he said he’d be alright on his own today. “I know her birthday is hard—“
“Every day is hard,” Jack bites. He still won’t look at Robby.
“Have you spoken to your therapist today?”
Robby jaw clicks. Okay. “Where are you going?”
“You’re going to live in a hotel forever? That’s the plan?”
“I don’t have a fucking plan,” Jack shouts. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I don’t know what’s going on. But I know I’ve fucked this up.”
“My life! I should be dead. I should’ve been driving, it should’ve been be me that got hit. I should have bled out in Afghanistan. But instead I’m what? Working at this broke ass hospital that doesn’t give a shit about us?Married to you? I can’t believe I did that to her. I never even see you, it’s not even worth it.” He slams the suitcase shut.
A threateningly eerie silence overwhelms the room.
Robby takes the hit like a bullet. A bullet might be easier; he’d joke about it with Jack if the air wasn’t so so thick that it’s clogging his throat. It only dissolves when Jack’s chin wobbles guiltily.
“You’re going to regret that in the morning,” Robby whispers.
“I regret it now.” Jack’s voice is weak and wet. He hide his face in the half folded shirt in his grip and muffles his pitiful sobs.
Robby takes a deep breath, and slowly approaches. A gentle hand lands between Jack’s shoulders, that’s all it takes for Jack to collapse into his arms. He massages small circles on his back as Jack cries, once his tears subside and the sobs turn to hiccups, Robby speaks.
“Do you still want to leave?”
Jack shakes his head, then halts. “I feel like I should.”
“I don’t want you to, if it makes a difference.”
Jack tears start back up again. He chokes apologies into Robby’s shoulder.
“It’s not fine.” A harsh sniff echoes through the room. “I can’t believe I said that. I’m a terrible husband.”
“I am,” Jack insists. He leans back, his bright red face in full view. One trembling hand cups Robby’s jaw. “I’m sorry, Mike. I didn’t mean what I said.”
Robby bites his tongue. He has a strong sense of intuition telling him that Jack did mean it, but usually has the good sense to keep it to himself or at least weigh the pros and cons. But there’s no reason to argue now, it wouldn’t do anything except upset Jack more, and Robby has accepted his place in Jack’s life as the rebound gone too far. He’s just too selfish to let him go.
“Let’s start on the couch,” Robby offers. “Have some dinner, watch TV, then we can see about bed.”
Jack gives a shaky nod and latches himself around Robby again. Robby pulls him in tighter.
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romaincrisis
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