Kolchek. First Lieutenant Kolchek.

YOU were waking up in Jason’s bed, again.

And not in the fun way.

You groaned as you rolled over, off of Jason’s arm that was underneath your neck. You sat up, staring down at Jason—whose eyes were already looking up at you—and you returned his gaze with a soft smile on your face. He sat up, too, and you noticed that his eyes were bloodshot, like he hadn’t slept all night long.

He probably hadn’t; every time you ended up here in his bed, he stayed up all night to make sure you were alright. And it seemed to be happening more and more often these days—the nightmares, that is—and then you ended up taking the elevator up the five floors to the boy’s apartment, staring at their front door as you took a deep breath and gathered up the courage to dial Jason’s number.

Not like it was hard; you had it memorized, and even if you didn’t, he was your emergency contact. No, that wasn’t the hard part; the hard part was knowing that he’d answer midway through the very first ring, his voice sleepy but frantic as he made sure that you were alright. He’d ask if you were at the door, and if you needed to come in—even though he already knew that you were. The hard part was knowing that he did all of this—that he always let you in, that he always held you and made the nightmares go away, staying awake to keep watch over you all night long—yes, the hard part was watching him care for you whilst knowing with every fiber of your being that he would never love you.

Not in the way that you loved him. 

He’d been treating you like his little sister since you’d met him on your first day at base in Iraq—three years ago, now. You’d walked through the doors of Camp Slayer with nothing but an anxious look on your face and in your eyes; earning you the nickname that Jason still used to this day. Panic Attack.

“Hey, what’s the matter with you? You’re lookin’ a little jumpy darlin’,” he’d chuckled, leaning against the pillars once you’d entered the hall. He hadn’t been First Lieutenant, then—he’d earn that title a short three months later—and he walked over to you, cocking an eyebrow as he stared down at your anxiety-ridden face. “Y’alright there, princess? Ain’t ever been to war before?”

You snarled at that, your anxiety melting away as you turned your anger onto him. 

“Don’t call me princess,” you’d threatened, tilting your chin up defiantly, although your hands were still shaking. “And I’m plenty capable of doing anything that you can do.”

Jason had smiled brightly, his eyes gleaming at your words as he chuckled, shaking his head as he drew nearer to you. He shrugged, leaning his hand against the pillar right above your head as he leaned down over to you, nose-to-nose.

“Ain’t no doubt about that, Panic Attack,” he retorted, and although the nickname had made your blood boil at the time, it had quickly and pathetically become your favorite term of endearment. “Just makin’ note of how jumpy you are. You always like this?”

“No.” That had been a lie, and Jason had learned that rather quickly; anytime something new, noteworthy, or terrifying had come up, you panicked, becoming a blubbering mess of sweat, angst, and tears on the floor.

 Usually his floor, and so, ‘Panic Attack’ had stuck—but despite your enthralling woes of anxiety, even Jason couldn’t deny how badass you were in the throes of actual battle.

Jason’s little quips—his nicknames, his protectiveness over you, his way of seemingly always searching a room and finding you—had caught up to you, eventually. Everyone on base knew that you were his best friend, and that he was yours; but it had rapidly become more than that for you only a year after knowing him. And, in the two years that you’d been actively in love with him, he showed no signs that he felt anything for you beyond a friendship. Not even after what happened—a year ago. Down in those motherfucking caves…

You felt a shudder ripple through your body as you tore yourself out of past events and into the present where you were still safely sitting in Jason’s bed. At your visible discomfort, he sat up quickly too, eyes full of concern and quickly scanning over you for any injuries he may have missed before.

“Y/n? Y’alright there, darlin’?” You nodded, stretching out your arms above your head and noting the time on his alarm clock. 11:50 a.m.; you blanched.

“Shit—is that the time?” You screeched, rushing out of bed and bursting out of the bedroom, hurrying to the bathroom—where you kept a stash of your own personal shower stuff, which was okay with Jason but a nuisance to his roommate and your mutual friend, Eric. “Oh, fuck me! My shift starts in thirty minutes, fuck!” 

“Whoa there Panic Attack, calm down,” Jason assured, rushing after you and beating you to the bathroom, blocking the door so that you couldn’t get in. “You’re not gonna be late to work. I’ll go grab the clothes from your apartment and then I’ll drive you over, alright? Crisis averted.” He booped you on the nose with his finger as he smirked and you pouted, allowing him to wrap his arms around your tiny frame as he pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back and resting his chin on the top of your head. 

You closed your eyes as you rested your ear against his heart, listening to his heartbeat and allowing it to steady you with a sigh. “No, you’re not,” you argued, pulling out of his embrace and pinching him in the ribs where you knew that he was sensitive, successfully jolting him away from the bathroom door. “You are going to go back to sleep, because you didn’t get any last night—and don’t lie and tell me that you did, because your eyes are bloodshot right now, Jase.”

Jason’s mouth rapidly opened and then closed again as he realized that it was futile to argue with you, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m fine, Y/n,” he insisted, but as soon as the words slipped out of his mouth, he yawned. His face turned red in a beautiful spread of blush across his cheeks and you held in a dreamy sigh at the sight, feeling pathetic enough already. “Alright, so—maybe I’m just a little bit tired. But I can still—”

“Save your breath, Lieutenant,” Eric’s voice floated into the room, and soon enough, you saw his form walk in from behind Jason, his blonde hair messed in some severe bedhead and wearing nothing but flannel pajama pants loosely tied around his waist. The sight did nothing to you—you only had eyes for Jason—but you noticed that Eric’s presence seemed to set Jason on edge. You didn’t know why; since Eric and Jason had teamed up down in the caves, they’d become a strange sort of friends. You couldn’t think of a single reason that Jason would be upset with him. “I’ll drive Y/n to work. Go back to bed.”

“That won’t be necessary, Colonel,” Jason responded through gritted teeth and you rolled your eyes; partly because of Jason’s stubbornness, and partly because the two men still refused to call each other anything but their previous ranks. And you’d all been honorably discharged from the military, permanently, a year ago. “Y/n and I have a routine—”

“Yeah, yeah, but I’m her friend too,” Eric interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I can drive just as well as you can, Lieutenant. Better, probably, seeing as you got maybe one hour of sleep last night. Are you willing to risk Y/n’s life just because you want to drive her to work?”

“Fuckin’ dammit Colonel, I ain’t riskin’ her life—and can’t you put on a fuckin’ shirt or somethin’?!”

“Guys, shut up,” you interrupted, pressing two fingers to your temples and shaking your head. “You two are being ridiculous; Jason, Eric will drive me to work.”

“What? No—!”

  “You need to sleep, and I’ll come over straight after,” You continued speaking, shooting your favorite man a glare. “Okay? We can watch a movie tonight, and then I’ll go sleep in my own bed so you can not be a walking zombie at work. Alright?” 

Jason grumbled something that sounded like a forced agreement, but his second yawn interrupted whatever tirade he was about to go on. Pressing a small kiss to his cheek—not uncommon for the two of you, platonically—you beckoned him to his bed and then hurriedly hopped into the shower. 

You allowed the scorching hot water to heal your anxieties for far longer than you should have, considering the fact that you were already running late for work today. When you finally did get out of the shower, you took a minute to stare at your reflection in the mirror. 

The bags that always seemed to linger under your eyes were the first thing that you saw and, just like it always did, it made you wince; it had been a year ago yesterday since you’d all fallen down those fucking caves and you were still having nightmares every single night.

Most nights you could deal with it on your own; you would simply stay up, watch a happy movie and chow down on some popcorn and drink chamomile tea, trying to manifest a peaceful sleep back into your life (to no avail). Usually, those nights were the milder nightmares; the raid, falling down the caves for the first time, escaping Dar—the things that you’d felt hope in.

The nights that you couldn’t handle it yourself—the nights that had you outside of Jason’s apartment, begging to be let in—those were the heavy stuff. Jason, getting dragged down a hallway by a vampire; Jason, going after Salim and leaving you behind—Jason, pleading for your life once he’d found out you were infected by one of them, only mere hours after he’d ruthlessly shot Clarice—

That one. Fuck, that one always got to you the most and you always found yourself wondering why he’d done it. Why did he plead for your life? The two of you were close, yes, you had been each other’s right hands at this point but—why was he okay with taking the risk with you and not with Clarice? Why was he willing to risk not only his life, but the life of the team for you—and not for Clarice?

You’d never asked him because, frankly, you were terrified of the answer. You wondered if he regretted it at all; clearly you were here, and you were fine, but it was not without side effects. The nightmares, for one thing; and he dealt with that directly. Every time you ended up in his bed, in his arms, desperately seeking the comfort that only he could seem to bring you, he didn’t sleep. His sleep habits were as shitty as yours were now, and he was doing it all for you. Because he knew that you needed him.

But you knew that one day, he would meet somebody else who would need him. And he would love her, and he would choose her over you, because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you love somebody. And you would be left behind in the dust, never sleeping, holding yourself together through every nightmare and wishing that you were her.

Not because you needed Jason to face the nightmares, no; but because you loved him. Why wouldn’t you love him? There was literally nothing about him that you couldn’t love. Jason was loyal, he was kind, he was funny, he was sexy, he was caring, he was—everything. 

Fuck, he was your everything.

With a groan, you threw your towel bitterly at your reflection, noticing that Jason had wandered in at some point and hung your work clothes on the back of the door where you’d originally gotten your towel. Since you spent a decent amount of nights here, you had a designated towel and a place to hang your towel, and you never bothered to lock the door when you were in the shower. Neither boy really had much company—except for Eric’s new girlfriend, Shanae—and you knew that neither one of them would ever walk in on you intentionally. Eric had adopted you as a sister of sorts, and Jason—well, you knew where you stood with him. 

You hurriedly got dressed in your black shirt and black dress pants, your bright orange apron with the company’s logo stretched across it coming next. You put your hair back in your favorite way to look cute and keep it out of your face, throwing on a tiny bit of mascara and lip gloss that you’d kept stashed in the boy’s bathroom for exactly this occasion.

You cracked open the door to the bathroom to find Eric fully dressed, sitting on the couch and waiting for you with a book in his hands. When he saw you, he smiled, closing his book and walking over to ruffle your hair.

“Hey!” You protested, pulling away with a pout and shoving him away. “I just did that, you asshole!” Eric chuckled lightly, tossing a look towards Jason’s bedroom door, which was left open. The man himself was passed out haphazardly across his bed over the tossed covers, his eyes shut tight and mouth open as he slept. You smiled at the sight, wishing you could crawl back into bed and hold him while he slept—knowing that you couldn’t now, and that you probably couldn’t ever. 

You swallowed a gulp, following Eric out of the building and to his car with just the slightest twinge of sadness, a feeling that you knew all too well. You felt it every time you left Jason’s bed, and every time, you promised that you’d stop doing this to yourself. Stop putting yourself in this situation, stop allowing yourself to be hurt over and over with your own motherfucking idiocy.

“So,” Eric’s voice cut through your thoughts, holding the passenger door open for you and helping you in. When he rounded to the other side of the car, he continued his thought. “The silence here is very telling, Private.”

“Oh my g—just call me by my name already Eric,” you groaned, laying your head on the window and shutting your eyes against your impending headache. “I haven’t been a Marine in a year, and you haven’t been in the Air Force either. Don’t you think it’s about time to let it go?”

“Maybe,” Eric replied with a nonchalant air to his words, and you were certain that if you were looking at him he would have shrugged. “Y/n, I like to think we have a close relationship, so I’m just going to get straight to the point. You need to tell Jason how you feel about him.”

Your heart stopped—your head was spinning, and you suddenly felt like throwing up. Your eyes opened just as quickly as they’d been shut and you whipped your head over to Eric, whose face was conflictingly blank in opposition with his words. 

“How did you—I mean I—I don’t—”

“Y/n, this conversation will be a whole lot easier if you don’t deny that you’re in love with him,” Eric interrupted, turning over to you quickly and quirking an eyebrow. You opened your mouth to protest again, before realizing that it was useless. He could see right through you—as you assumed most everyone could.

“I can’t tell him,” you said instead, pulling your eyes away from Eric and out of your window instead, watching the cars on the freeway zipping by. “He doesn’t—he doesn’t feel the same way. And besides, what’s wrong with the way that things are now, anyway? Why do I have to tell him? We’re both happy with the way that things are.”

Eric was sullen and quiet, not unusually for him, and finally, after several minutes, he sighed heavily.

“I can’t tell you what Jason feels,” Eric spoke, his words sounding clear and calculated. “I don’t know exactly where he stands, Y/n. But I do know that what he feels for you is something deeper than a simple friendship, and I think you know it, too. Who does all that he does for someone that they only see as a friend?”

“But—”

 “Either way, even if he doesn’t feel the same way about you, you need to know, Y/n,” Eric continued, shooting you a sharp glare, as if you’d just interrupted someone with a higher rank than you—like you were both back in the military. “I just think that if you keep on going like this, you’re only going to get your heart broken. Wouldn’t you rather know and not continue to waste your time if he doesn’t love you back?”

“No,” you answered immediately, clicking your seatbelt and watching the strap snap away in front of you as it came undone, staring at the coffee shop in front of you. The same damn place you hadn’t seemed to be able to break away from for a year. “No, I wouldn’t rather ‘quit wasting my time’, Eric; I’d rather have Jason in any way that I can. Even if it’s just as a friend. Even if it actually fucking kills me.”

“Y/n,” Eric demanded, grabbing your hand, his brown eyes wide and incredulous. “You’re scaring me; between this self-destructive behavior with Jason, and your nightmares, and you’ve been losing weight—I’m worried about you; we’re all worried about you. Me, Shanae, I even talked to fucking Nick and you know how much I hate that pri—”

“Well you know what?” You snapped, retracting your hand harshly out of his grip. “All of you should just stop worrying, okay? I have everything under control. I may be younger than you, Eric, but I am still an adult, alright? I can control myself, and I know what I’m doing—okay? So just—just—just stop!”

You exited the car without another word, slamming the door behind you and wiping tears away from your eyes as you hurried into the coffee shop.

Fuck this day.

🌒

The day went by so slowly that time felt like it was literally dragging you behind it. You couldn’t stop thinking about your conversation with Eric, or the way that Jason had looked this morning when you left; exhausted. Utterly, and completely exhausted. And you couldn’t help but think: maybe he wasn’t just exhausted from lack of sleep, but maybe he was truly getting tired of you needing him all the time. Maybe Jason was finally hitting his limit.

You put on a brave face and a smile whilst at work, but inside you were crying out for help. You knew that Eric was right; you hadn’t been taking proper care of yourself, and you were dragging Jason down with you.

You knew that Jason didn’t have work today—he worked as a paramedic, and you didn’t want to talk about how fucking hot that was—and you found yourself absentmindedly wondering what he’d be doing instead. Would he go to your favorite bar? Would he meet a girl there? And, more importantly, had he met a girl there before?

You groaned again, hanging your apron up behind the counter so you didn’t accidentally take it home again. You hurried out of the shop after you’d clocked out, unwinding your hair from its tie and letting it run free. Your eyes brightened when you saw Jason’s large, white pickup truck sitting in the parking lot, the man himself leaning against the back of his seat and listening to something country and way too loud. 

You grinned, thankful that he’d come to pick you up instead of Eric, and hurried over to the passenger-side door, throwing it open and throwing yourself inside. Jason jumped, obviously not having seen you exit the building, but he smiled widely when he caught sight of you.

“Hey,” Jason greeted, reaching out to gently stroke a strand of hair and causing a murmur in your fucking heartbeat. “How was your day darlin’? Not too busy?”

“Pretty standard,” you sighed, smiling fondly at Jason’s soft face when he looked away to pull out of the parking lot. You found yourself staring at him and not out of the window like you had this morning with Eric, and you swallowed down a dreamy sigh at just how perfectly beautiful the man was. “How was yours? Did you get some rest?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Yes, I did, but you know that I wouldn’t have minded drivin’ you to work, right? I never mind, Y/n. Gives me some extra time with you.”

His words made you flush, and a shiver ran down your spine; you often wondered how Jason could say things like this and not feel anything for you other than a basic friendship. You wondered if he knew what he was doing to you, or if he was, hopefully, more oblivious than the rest of your friends. 

“You needed the rest,” you insisted, licking your thumb and wiping a stray coffee stain off of his chin. He flushed, but he let you do it, not even stiffening at the touch of your hand. “Eric driving me just once didn’t hurt anything, Jason. Besides, he’s my friend too.”

“Yeah, but it’s different,” Jason argued, his chin hardset and defiant. You raised an eyebrow, a little scoff leaving your mouth at the man’s stubbornness—which, you had to admit, was very in character for him. 

“How is it different, Jason?” You responded, arms crossed over your chest as you demanded an answer. “Because I haven’t known him as long? That doesn’t mean anything, Jason.”

“The hell it doesn’t!” Jason pushed, eyes wide and incredulous as he looked back at you for just a split second before turning his attention back to the road. “Besides, it ain’t just that, Y/n. You spend more time with me, we’re…better friends.”

“Jason, he drove me to work,” you chuckled, unsure of why Jason was so jealous of Eric driving you to work, once. “It’s not like we did movie night without you, or went to our favorite bar or something. You know I only do those things with you.” And you know I’d continue to only want to do those things with you, too. Because I fucking love you, you dipshit.

“But you chose him to drive you to work, over me.” 

You rolled your eyes; for somebody who didn’t feel anything for you, he certainly got insanely jealous and protective over you to the point that you wondered if you were the oblivious one. 

“Jason—trust me when I say I would have preferred you to drive me to work, okay? I chose Eric because you spent the entire night watching over me instead of sleeping,” you explained, working your way out of your seatbelt and worming your arm through his, resting your head on his shoulder. “You’re still my favorite person in the whole world, rest assured.” 

You took a peek up at Jason’s face, noticing a small smile was pulling at the corner of his lips. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes once more, extending your legs and resting them on his lap as he parked in his favorite parking spot in your complex. Jason shut off his truck and turned to you, chuckling when you unbuckled his belt for him and cuddled you into his side, the two of you delaying the walk upstairs by staying in the truck for a beat too long.

“Did he at least put on a fuckin’ shirt when he drove you?” Jason asked and you laughed out loud, shaking your head in incredulity.

“Obviously, Jason, rest assured Eric was wearing a shirt when he went out in public.” Jason didn’t respond, and you felt your eyes fluttering shut as he stroked your ribs with his fingers absentmindedly, your head under his and you struggling with the urge to reach up and kiss him. 

“Nick’s comin’ into town tomorrow,” Jason informed you, and you perked up, lifting your head to look at his face. 

“Really?!” You asked excitedly. “Kay’s coming to visit? Why the fuck didn’t he tell me?” Jason avoided your gaze and you frowned; something was going on here.

“Rachel’s comin’, too,” Jason announced and your heart fell in disappointment. You’d known that Nick and Rachel had started dating again, but you never realized that he would want to bring her here. Not with you and Eric both living here. 

Suddenly, and without your consent, your brain was assaulted with nightmares—memories, actually, and you felt the sudden urge to throw up the nothing that you’d eaten today.

“...What happened? A sickness? A madness?”

It had certainly felt like you were sick—that you were going mad, as well. Your head was ringing, and it burned, like somebody was burning your brain from the inside out. You felt nauseous like you’d never felt before—like there was something moving inside of you that you needed to get out, desperately. Like, suddenly, you were no longer in control.

Salim was still speaking, you thought, but you could no longer hear words—just the hum of his voice turning into a strange, twisted melody inside of your head. The realization had dawned on you at that moment, you remember, what was happening to you. You’d been bitten during the assault, but you didn’t think anything of it. Now, though, you knew better, and you were anxiously watching the white phosphorus that was on the table. 

“They waited for us.”

You couldn’t take it anymore; the pain, the feeling of something moving around and invading your body, the fucking burning. You felt a scream rip through your throat and you had fallen to your knees, your hands clutching the white phosphorus that you hadn’t even realized you’d grabbed. 

“Shit!” You heard Nick exclaim, and Jason rushed towards you—only to be held back by Eric.

“Don’t,” he commanded, and you remember his face, a deathly, pale white. “She’s holding…she has…” 

He couldn’t even finish his sentence but you saw Jason’s face pale and you knew that he’d seen the phosphorus then. You knew that he knew what was going to happen; you were going to kill yourself, to save them. To save him. You were going to lose each other to this. 

You were hyperventilating, you thought, and you could hear Jason desperately calling out your name, sounding terrified and despairing. Nick, who had been your friend for some time now, too, knelt in front of you cautiously, likely knowing that Jason was too hysterical to be trusted.

“Y/n, look at me,” Nick prompted and you did, your eyes teary, wide, and frenzied. You were writhing, your hands clutching at your head and you heard your pathetic shrieks and moans as you felt it moving inside of you, eating you from the inside out. 

Jason had broken free of Eric’s grip and pushed Nick aside, careful not to get too close on the off chance that he accidentally set off the phosphorus. His face was terrified and hysterical, and his eyes pleaded with you to keep looking at him—so you did.

Even back then, you loved him. No one else had quite the pull on you that he did.

“Y/n, please listen to me,” Jason begged, his Southern voice deep and desperate. “Please don’t do this, I—I know you’re scared, but I’m gonna get us out of this, I fuckin’ promise you, okay? Please, I know it seems impossible right now, but just—”

“Jason,” Nick interrupted, as soon as he’d realized that Jason didn’t know. He hadn’t figured out what was going on yet. “Jason, listen—”

“She has it,” Salim interrupted, and you remembered how he’d looked down at you with such horror in his face, and pity in his eyes. “It’s inside her.”

“What?” Jason questioned, shaking his head wildly. “No, what the fuck are you—”

“She’s fucking infected, Kolchek!” Rachel had hissed at him, grabbing him by the shoulder and shoving him away from you. “One of those things bit her, and now she’s turning into one of them; just like Clarice!” 

You watched as Jason’s eyes widened and his normally tan face turned a sickly pale, his eyes never once leaving yours. If you thought about it hard enough, you could imagine that he was thinking of poor Clarice—of what had happened to her, just hours before—and how he’d shot her mercilessly without a second thought. Because he couldn’t take the chance; he needed to save everybody else, and she had become a liability. An unknown. And we couldn’t have that.

Looking into his eyes, you knew he’d do the same to you now.

You knew he had to.

And that’s when the vision started.

A burning spaceship, with the head of a monster, heading straight towards Earth as it burned slowly. Aliens; they’d come from another world. 

You didn’t even spare another thought or breath on that as you settled the phosphorus between your knees, tears streaming down your face, and brandished your pocket knife. You didn’t have a choice; you couldn’t let Jason kill you. You couldn’t bear to let him live with that trauma. 

You had to do this yourself. 

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, looking straight at Jason—who was trying to rush you, but being held back by Salim and Eric, not without a fight. 

You wanted to tell him you loved him then, but you didn’t; you knew that would only be cruel to him. Instead, you tore your eyes away from his face and stared down at the phosphorus, the knife in hand, ready to blow yourself up.

But you didn’t; you couldn’t. Your hand just wouldn’t fucking move, despite what your brain was telling it to do. 

Your knife clattered to the floor and you sobbed, breathing in and out as you attempted to steady yourself. Jason was released and he hastily ran and picked up your knife, pocketing it and taking the phosphorus from your hands in the event that you tried that again.

You wanted to reach out and touch him—a hug, a brush of the hand, anything—but it was at that moment that the burning started up again. You doubled over and wailed, Jason right by your side as he pushed your hair back from your face and held you, tears streaming down his own face, his own breath coming in pants as he panicked. 

You were likely going to die—you knew that—so you turned to Jason as Nick held up your other side, both men frantic. 

“They came from the stars,” you spoke, staring straight into Jason’s frightened eyes, hoping that he was listening to every word that you were saying. “This isn’t their home; it’s an ark.” 

You suddenly began to buck viciously, and you weren’t sure if it was you or the thing inside of you controlling your body. All you knew was that it hurt, and you needed to go. You just needed to go. 

“Do something!” Nick turned and looked at Jason, the dubbed leader of the group. “She’s turning into one of them!”

“Hold on, baby girl, you have to hold on!” Jason pleaded, his deep voice husky and maniacal. “Please, Y/n—hold on for me. Hold on for me!”

“It’s…killing…me,” you managed to croak out, attempting to inform Jason of the severity of the situation. They had to act now, and they had to act fast—because if they didn’t, you were going to be one of them and put them all in danger.

You should’ve used phosphorus.

“Jason, put her out of her fucking misery!” Rachel screamed at him, trying to pull him away from you but he wouldn’t budge, his teeth gritted and tears streaming down his face. “Fuck, Kolchek; I’ll do it!” 

“We can still save her!” Nick insisted, and Jason whipped around towards Rachel, his body taking a protective stance over you. 

“There’s got to be a way,” Jason growled at her, his arms grasping you and putting himself in front of Rachel’s gun. “I can’t lose her!” 

His voice had sounded so terrified, so distraught—and you wondered why he hadn’t reacted this way with Clarice. Why was he so okay with letting you live—when he’d been so adamant that Clarice needed to die?

“You should know better than anyone that there is no other way, Kolchek,” Rachel barked back angrily. She moved her gun, past Jason, aiming it right towards your head. “Nick, hold her down.”

“No!” Jason argued, throwing himself back in between you and the barrel of the gun. “No, there ain’t no way we’re shootin’ her!” 

“‘It’s time to think like a Marine, Jason!’” Rachel snarled back at him, her voice unusually tight and shrill. “You need to take your emotions out of it—isn’t that what you said to me about Clarice?! When you fucking shot her?!!” 

“Fuck you, this is different!” Jason’s voice was high, tight, and emotional. All of a sudden, you felt purpose. Hope. You weren’t sure if it was the way that Jason was so protective of you, or that the prospect of losing you made him so emotional, but suddenly, you wanted to live. You didn’t want to die—not like this. Not today. 

“Rachel,” you managed to croak out, and the vision behind your eyes was beginning to get blurry. “Don’t…do it. Please; don’t kill me…please.”

Rachel’s eyes wavered over to you for a second—just the splittest of seconds—but you could see the indecision behind her eyes. 

“I have to,” she insisted, but her voice was cracking under her emotions. “You know that I have to.”

“It’s me, Rachel,” You continued to plead, pushing up past Jason and staring into her amber eyes, pleading for your life. “Please…put down the gun.”

It was at that moment that Jason hopped up, not as certain about Rachel’s humanity as you were, and knocked the gun out of her hands. He pushed her back, holding the gun to her instead, as he ordered her aside.

“Step aside,” he commanded, and she did, shaking her head incredulously. “Step the fuck aside and get the hell away from her!”

“You’re insane,” Rachel told him with a hiss. “She’s going to kill us all, and you’re going to regret this.”

“Salim, watch Rachel,” Jason ordered, and the man did, standing between her and you as Jason turned back to you, hope, caring, and compassion in his teary eyes. “Y/n, sweetheart, I’m gonna find a way to save you. Alright?”

“Why?” You’d questioned, wrapping your arms around Jason’s neck as you held on tightly to the man who had become your literal lifeline. “Jason, why—why me?” There were so many other words that you wanted to say, so many more things, but your mouth couldn’t formulate the things that your mind was currently running in the background. 

Jason’s Adam's apple had bobbed as he stared down into your eyes, his own eyes full of—emotion, of some sort, although you were having a hard time making it out. He pressed a hard, clinging kiss to your forehead and as he pulled away, he said, “Because we’ve got to have hope.”

For some reason, you had the feeling that he’d wanted to say something else. 

He’d tried to carry you to the cocoons that Salim had suggested, but you didn’t get far enough; you writhed out of his arms, and Eric had suddenly remembered the UV light—you still remembered how awfully intense the heat had felt held up to your body—and he burned you, until the parasite exited through your mouth and you were cured. 

This fact had been confirmed by supernatural health professionals after you’d all made it out of the caves; you were not infected anymore, and nothing was wrong with you. 

What Eric had done had worked, and Jason and Nick were right. You could be saved, after all.

Rachel had never gotten over the fact that you had survived while Clarice did not; and you hadn’t really gotten over her nearly killing you down in those caves. When it was all said and done, she’d left Eric and reconnected with Nick, the two of them beginning an official relationship. Suffice to say, Eric wasn’t exactly her biggest fan either.

“Y/n?” Jason’s voice cut through your thoughts, destroying the memory that haunted your dreams. “Y’alright in there? Where’d you go?” 

“Sorry,” you rushed out, shaking your head and steadying your breathing. “Um, Rachel’s coming? Well, just tell Nick that if he wants to see me, that maybe we should do it—”

“Actually, they’re comin’ to go to dinner tomorrow night with Eric and Shanae,” Jason interrupted, and it was clear that whatever he wanted to say, that he wanted to get it over with. He never cut you off when you were talking. “And Eric wants me to go to be a sort of a buffer between the two couples and—fuck, Y/n, I know that this is sort of a hard ask, but—will you come with me? I can’t fuckin’ stand the thought of bein’ a fuckin’ fifth wheel between those three idiots.”

You perked up at the question; did you really want to go have dinner with Rachel of all people? And did you really want to help be the buffer between two bitterly divorced people, a new girlfriend, and the man that Rachel had had an affair with? No, not really, but you also couldn’t let go of the fact that Jason was essentially asking you to be his date for the night. 

Emboldened by some newfound courage, you cleared your throat and asked, “Like, um—like as your date?” You looked up at his face and saw the shock that registered there, immediately feeling the anxiety flood your system as you realized that you’d completely misinterpreted the situation. 

“What?!” Jason questioned, and you could hear the confusion in his voice. When he scoffed like what you’d said was ridiculous, your heart broke again. “No, Y/n that’s—no. We’re just friends, we’d just be going as—friends. It ain’t anythin’ else, Y/n, why would you think that?”

“No—no reason.” Fuck, you could hear the tears getting choked up in your throat. “You know, Jase? I’m actually not feeling so well, so I think I’m going to head on to bed. Can we do movie night on a different night?” Jason opened his mouth to answer, but you didn’t give him the opportunity. “I’ll see you tomorrow night. Text me the address and I’ll meet you there, okay?”

“That’s ridiculous Y/n, I can drive you—” 

“No, don’t worry about it, I’ll meet you there,” you insisted sternly. Pulling yourself away from his hold, you hopped out of the truck and hurried upstairs, praying to every God you could think of that he hadn’t seen the tears streaming down your face when you’d left. 

You couldn’t believe yourself; why had you fucking said that?! How stupid were you? Of course, it wasn’t a date—Jason didn’t think of you that way.

It would never be a date.

🌒

JASON had no idea what the fuck he had done to piss you off last night, but here he was the next morning, trying to puzzle it over. He was no idiot, but he really couldn’t figure this one out; you’d seemed to get jumpy after he’d mentioned Rachel, but you’d left once he’d reassured you that this wasn’t a date.

Had you wanted it to be a date? No, that was almost laughable; you didn’t think of him that way. You’d never been into him that way, and it wasn’t a line that the two of you ever even thought about crossing. Still, you’d never made a comment like that before, and he’d wondered just what he’d done to make you worried that he was hitting on you. He never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable by forcin’ you into somethin’ more, but clearly, he had come across that way.

Fuck.

His only hope was that you’d stormed off because of the mention of Rachel, but he knew deep down inside that it couldn’t have been that—so, here he was, hoping and wonderin’ if you would still show up tonight—if you were gonna feel awkward around him, thinkin’ that he wanted to be more than friends with you. 

And he didn’t want anything more; at least, he thought he didn’t. He genuinely liked where your relationship was at now, he loved having you as his best and closest friend! Even if sometimes, he maybe got the urge to kiss you when you were bein’ cute and you didn’t even know it. Or if he’d almost told you on more than one occasion how fuckin’ beautiful you were—or, if he sometimes wanted to throw you onto his damn bed and show you just how well he could really treat you if you just gave him the fucking chance—

Fuck, no, he reminded himself, shaking his head and pulling on his dressier clothes for the night. That wasn’t a line that the two of you ever crossed, and he wasn’t about to start thinkin’ about it tonight. He valued you; he valued your friendship, and he wasn’t about to throw that away just ‘cause he sometimes wondered how it would feel to have sex with you. Just ‘cause sometimes, he wanted to. 

Jason reached for his phone to call you, confirm that you really didn’t want him to drive you over with him, but you didn’t answer. After a string of curse words, he just pocketed the damn thing with a sigh, headin’ to his truck alone with his own anxieties. 

It took less than ten minutes to get to the restaurant, and he found Eric and Shanae waiting outside for him, both of them looking too visibly tense to go in by themselves. Jason rolled his eyes and waved at them, trying not to laugh at their collective sighs of relief when they saw him approaching. 

“Hey guys,” Jason greeted, clapping Eric on the shoulder and giving Shanae a small side hug. “Y’all seen Y/n yet tonight?” 

Eric and Shanae shared a look of confusion that made Jason’s heart drop into his stomach; had she said something to them? Was she no longer comin’?

“We assumed she’d be riding with you,” was the only thing that Eric said in reply and Jason frowned, shaking his head.

“No, she—she said she wanted to drive herself tonight,” Jason reiterated, still feeling the same stab of hurt that he’d felt last night when you’d said it. He shook it off, just like he always did, and headed inside with Eric and Shanae, the latter seeming anxious to get this night over with. Jason couldn’t blame her; she was meeting her boyfriend’s ex-wife, who he had a long and complicated history with. 

Eric had just recently told Shanae about what had happened to them a year ago in Iraq and, miraculously, she believed him. Jason hadn’t asked for details on how or why, but figured he must have met some miracle woman who didn’t question the insane too much. 

Salim had recently gotten remarried—they’d all flown out to Iraq for that, minus Rachel—and even he hadn’t spoken about the incident to his new wife. 

“Jason!” Nick’s voice boomed throughout the restaurant and Jason grinned at his buddy, hurrying over and giving him their version of a bro-hug. If Y/n were here yet, she’d have laughed and made fun of us, like she’s done so many times before. “Oh man, it’s been too long, buddy. How the hell are you?”

“Yeah, ‘bout a year since we’ve seen you in person,” Jason reiterated, trying not to think about the state they were all in a year ago. “Been good. Busy workin’, mannin’ that EMT shit. You know how it is.”

“Yeah, and then the rest of his free time is spent with you-know-who,” Eric interrupted with a roll of his eyes, and it was clear to Jason that talking about you and him was going to be the way they chose to get through this little dinner party. “He’s probably with Y/n more than he’s at work, don’t let him lie to you.”

“Ah, well that doesn’t surprise me,” Nick laughed, and they all sat at a nearby table, leaving an open seat next to Jason for you, whenever you decided you were going to show up. “Those two were glued to the hip from the moment Panic Attack arrived on base.”

“Speaking of the devil,” Shanae whispered, gesturing softly to the front door of the restaurant. Jason looked up—half-wishing he hadn’t, honestly—because when he saw you, his heart stopped.

He’d seen you dressed up before, but not quite like this; a tight, black dress was fitted over your body, barely compressing your curves and leaving little to the imagination. It was made of leather—and fuck he didn’t even know that he liked leather—but after seein’ you in that motherfuckin’ dress, he fuckin’ loved leather. 

 You’d curled your hair in the way that he’d always loved and you had adorned your eyelids with makeup that made the color of your eyes vibrant, making Jason feel slightly weak in the knees. As you approached, he stood from his chair like the perfect gentleman, a smile on his face as he pulled your chair out for you and you sat down with a measly sigh.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t our little Panic,” Nick teased and Jason noticed how your glare towards him was fake, seeing the glint in your eyes at the familiarity of Nick’s use of the nickname. You rolled your eyes at him but you smiled when he came over to your side of the table and gave you a hug. Jason noticed that you were watching Rachel warily, but it seemed like Rachel didn’t notice, as her eyes were currently glued to her ex-husband. 

“Kay,” you’d giggled, sending Nick a soft smile as he made his way to the other side of the table again. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Y/n, you look—wow,” Jason whispered as you turned over to him, a panicked, blanched look on your face as he said the words. Jason gulped, weighing the pros and cons, but ultimately decided to push his luck. “Seriously you—you’re stunning. You’re the most beautiful person here.”

There was a smooth, even blush fanning out across your cheeks but you only nodded your head in thanks, turning away from him awkwardly. The odd interaction only worried him more, and he began to panic as he wondered just what the fuck it was he did to make you act this way. And if whatever he did was fixable, or if he were actually losing you, his best friend, over it.

You exchanged pleasantries with the rest of the group, and the night had seemed to be moving along smoothly; although Jason noticed that you seemed to be consuming more alcohol than dinner tonight. You were oddly quiet—usually, you were the life of the party, gluing everybody together—but you could barely answer a simple question tonight, and Jason could sense that something was seriously wrong. 

Eric, Rachel, and Nick seemed to be getting along well, although Jason could tell that everyone was far more interested in your mood, obviously noticing how strangely you were acting tonight. Nick even kicked Jason under the table, gathering his attention, before he subtly gestured to Y/n and mouthed, “What’s wrong?!” Jason had just shaken his head, just as confused as his friend was. 

Shanae had finally had enough at one point or another, because she smiled sweetly at you and asked, “Y/n, are you alright? You’ve been rather quiet tonight.”

“Yeah, usually I can’t get you to shut up,” Jason chimed in teasingly with the hope of getting you to cheer up, expecting you to do what you always did—poke him in the ribs where he was sensitive, or rib him right back as the two of you laughed about it, maybe even giving him a small kiss on his cheek like you sometimes did.

Instead, you turned to him, a mighty glare in your eyes as you answered, “Well geez, sorry, Jason. I didn’t realize that my voice was such a turn-off to you.” 

Jason’s mouth dropped open and he physically recoiled, shocked at your loathsome reaction to his simple jokes. 

“Whoa, sweetheart, I was just kiddin’,” Jason defended himself with wide eyes, his hands thrown up in the air. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings—”

“Oh, please, you and I both know that my feelings are the least of your concern,” you’d snapped back, and Jason’s jaw dropped open in shock, his heart clenching at the accusation you’d just thrown at him. Rachel took a comical drink of alcohol, her eyes wide, as she pretended not to watch the show that you were suddenly putting on for everyone.

 Shooting the rest of the table a this isn’t for your eyes, glare, Jason scooted his chair closer to you, leaning in so that he could speak to you quietly. He hoped that you would follow suit, knowing that if you caused too much of a scene, you’d be incredibly embarrassed once you found yourself sober.

“Y/n, what the hell?!” Jason whisper-yelled, hurt and enraged that you would say something like that to him. What the fuck did you even fuckin’ mean he didn’t care about your feelings?! He stayed awake all night, multiple times a week, because of how much he fucking cared about you. Where the fuck was this coming from? 

“What the fuck is up with you tonight?”

You only glared back at him, your eyes shining with what he thought were tears. 

“Can’t I just be a little quiet sometimes, Jason? Do I always have to fill the awkward silences for everybody? Am I not allowed to feel a little bit off?” You were rambling now, and tears were flowing down your face freely as you shouted back at him. 

“No, darlin’, of course you can, I just—tell me what’s buggin’ you,” Jason pleaded, shaking his head in confusion. “Let me help you, or fix it, or even just make you feel better—”

“It’s not your fucking job to make me feel better,” you retorted with a hiss, pushing your chair away from him and throwing your napkin down onto the table. “Okay? So just—quit trying.” 

The two of you had forgotten about the others at the table, too wrapped up in your own melodrama to care that you had an audience. Jason was so worried about you—so worried that he was losing you—that he really couldn’t give a fuck who was listening right now.

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?!” Jason hissed back at you, pulling his chair back to you again to regain some semblance of privacy. “That’s fuckin’ ridiculous, Y/n, I’m never gonna quit tryin’ to help you—”

“You are not my boyfriend, Jason,” you clapped back, standing from the table and putting distance between the two of you. “So just, stop—stop acting like one and let me go. Please, just, let me move on!” 

A heavy, awkward, tense silence filled the room after you’d shouted the words, and all Jason could do was watch your chest heave up and down as you attempted not to hyperventilate.

Jason stood from the table too, but he froze at your last sentence, his mouth falling open in shock and confusion. He opened his mouth to say—something, anything, he didn’t fucking know—but he couldn’t force any words to come out. 

“Y/n, let me drive you home,” Rachel offered, standing from the table and putting herself in between Jason and you. “You’re in no state to drive right now, and Nick will come pick me up later.”

Jason saw you nodding frantically, pressing your hands to your eyes as you wiped tears away from them. 

“Yeah, that’s—yeah,” you agreed readily, grabbing your purse and reaching for your keys to toss to Rachel.

“Wait—no,” Jason interrupted, stepping in between the two of you and attempting to get you to look at him. You refused, your face turned down and away, even though his eyes were pleading for anything that you were willing to give him. “No, Y/n, I’ll drive you, please—we need to talk about this—”

“No.”

Your answer—short, firm, and upset—shocked Jason to his very core and he felt his eyes stinging, his heart dropping into his stomach. He shook his head, unable to understand your simple command, and he stepped closer to you.

You stepped away.

“Y/n, please,” Jason pleaded, dropping his hand between you as he held back a shaky breath. “You’d rather go with Rachel than me right now? Are you serious?”

You didn’t answer him, your only movement was one towards Rachel as you handed her your keys with a sniffle. “Can we go now, please?”

“Yes,” Rachel answered, nodding resolutely at Jason. “Let’s go.”

Jason’s heart broke as he watched you walk out of the restaurant with Rachel—a person whom you despised—instead of leaving with him. Your best friend.

What. The. Fuck?

His head was reeling; he had no idea what had just happened and therefore, he had no idea how to fix it. What the fuck had changed in the past twenty-four hours?

“Jason?” Eric’s voice was even and calm, but Jason had a feeling that it wasn’t going to stay that way for long. If there was anybody that was as protective over you as Jason was, it was Eric. Well, not as protective. Jason took the cake on that one, but, still. Eric tended to think with his fists and not his head when it came to you, too. 

“I’m going to ask you this exactly once,” Eric continued. “What the fuck did you do to Y/n?” Immediately, Jason felt defensive, rounding on Eric with a finger in his face and a snarl on his lips.

“I didn’t do fuckin’ anythin’,” Jason growled at him, shoving him back with a hand as Eric rolled his eyes. “Where the fuck do you get off assumin’ that I had anythin’ to do with this?!”

“No offense man, but whatever that was, it had everything to do with you,” Nick interrupted, sharing a concerned look with Eric. Since when were the two of them fuckin’ friends?! “Did something happen between you two?”

“NO,” Jason persisted, pressing his hands to his temples as he began to get a headache. “Everythin’ was fuckin’ normal until—last night?”

“Y/n didn’t come over last night,” Eric argued, crossing his arms over his chest and Jason rolled his eyes.

“What the fuck, Eric, are you the Y/n police now?” Jason asked sarcastically, and Eric glanced back at Nick again. The sight of them looking at each other, like they had some stupid sort of secret about him that he wasn’t entitled to, enraged Jason and he threw his hands down, beginning to pace nervously. “What? What the fuck are you two…lookin’ at?!” 

“Look, maybe you should just…fill us in on what happened last night, and maybe we can help figure out what’s going on with Y/n,” Shanae jumped in, standing in between Eric and Jason as she attempted to play peacekeeper. 

Jason sighed, running a hand through his hair as he nodded. What else was he supposed to do? God knew he couldn’t figure it out by himself. He’d been givin’ himself migraines attemptin’ to do just that. 

“I picked her up from work, like I always do on movie nights,” Jason started reiterating. “Told her Nick was comin’ into town, and that he was bringin’ Rachel. That’s when she first got jumpy—but then, when I asked her to come to this dinner with me, she seemed alright? Well, she did, until—”

“Until what?” Shanae asked kindly and Jason blinked at her, remembering.

“Well, she did ask if I meant as a date,” Jason admitted, furrowing his brows and pursing his lips as he tried to puzzle it out in his mind. “I said no, ‘cause I didn’t mean it like that and even if I had, I knew she would just panic about it, so—”

“Holy fucking shit,” Eric interrupted, rolling his eyes and pointing an accusatory finger towards Jason’s chest. “You’re a fucking idiot, Jason.”

Eric’s words lit a fire in Jason’s chest and he went at him, puffing up his chest as he ran into Eric’s finger, fully prepared to punch him straight in the face and ask questions later. 

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?!” Jason demanded, fully aware that they were garnering stares from other restaurant-goers now. “What the fuck do you mean?!”

“Y/n’s in love with you, you dickhead!” Eric screamed back at him, his face red and eyes narrowed into slits. “She fucking adores your stupid ass!”

Jason’s chest constricted with anxiety and he shook his head; you…loved him? No, not possible; if you felt that way about him, he would have known it already, or, or you would have…you would have told him. Right?

“No,” Jason denied and Eric threw his hands up and groaned in frustration, shaking his head vigorously. “What, you dickhead?! She doesn’t. She’s not. We’re just…we’re just friends!”

“No, Jason, she is,” Nick interrupted with a sigh, waving a hand in apology to the waitstaff. “Y/n has been in love with you for years, Jason. Even before we fell down those fucking caves.”

The realization hit Jason like a ton of bricks, weighing him down as he realized that Nick was right; everything you’d done for him, the way you looked at him, how you only spent your free time with him—it made sense. You were in love with him.

Holy fucking shit—he was a stupid fucking dickhead.

“Oh, fuck,” Jason groaned, clutching at his hair in his own stress. “Shit, fuck, oh, no.”

“Did you seriously not know that Y/n is madly in love with you?!” Nick questioned, bringing Jason a glass of beer that he downed, instantly. 

 “I’ve never…thought about her like that,” Jason admitted, although as soon as the admission left his lips, it felt wrong. Had he thought of you like that? Sure, he had fantasies about having sex with you…sometimes he thought about what it would be like to kiss you, or build a family with you but that didn’t mean—that didn’t mean he loved you. Did it?

“Bullshit!” Nick instantly exclaimed, loudly, causing Jason to jump in shock. Jason opened his mouth to protest or—explain, maybe—but Nick held up a finger with a warning glare that he wasn’t quite finished. 

“You seriously never noticed how much of a fucking wreck you were whenever Y/n was out on assignment?” Nick asked, and Jason gulped as he remembered how awful it had felt, not knowing if you were coming back to him. How he’d thrown things and broke things and been a general asshole to everybody until the second that you came back to the base.

 “Or how fucking moody you’d get when she went out with other Marines on base?” Jason grunted at Nick’s words, and even now, he remembered that he’d felt jealous of Eric just taking you to work—and Eric had a very steady girlfriend. 

“You’re sitting here and you’re telling me that you don’t stay up with her all night long when she has nightmares, just to hold her?” Nick continued. “You’re gonna sit here and you’re seriously going to tell me that you had no problem letting Clarice die when she was infected; but when it was Y/n, you wouldn’t let anyone even think about doing the same to her?! You’re really gonna sit here and you’re gonna tell me that you did all of that stuff and you’re not in love with her?!”

The silence in the room was deafening as the pieces began to click into place in Jason’s mind; his heart was racing, his palms were sweating, and he felt like he was going to pass out.

 “Holy shit!!!” Jason hollered, hopping back up to his feet with his mouth gaping open and a frantic, terrified look on his face. “I’m fuckin’ in love with her!” 

Nick walked over to him with a smile on his face, clamping a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. 

“Yeah, dude,” Nick confirmed. “Take it in. You’re down fuckin’ bad.” 

As soon as the words left his friend’s mouth, Jason knew. Fuck, how could he have missed it?! How could he have pushed his feelings for you so far down that he hadn’t even realized it himself? Fuck, and he knew he loved you too, because he’d almost said it to you—when he thought you were dying, down in those caves and you’d asked why he saved you—fuck he was so fuckin’ stupid!

“Oh, shit, fuck, I need to get to her now,” Jason rushed out, hurrying over to the door and leaving Nick, Shanae, and Eric following behind him. “I need to tell her—fuck, she needs to know—”

“Shit dude, you can’t drive like this,” Nick insisted, wrenching Jason’s arm away from his truck and pulling him over to his car. “I’ll take you, and then Rachel and I will find a way to get your truck back home, alright?”

“Fuck it, I don’t give a shit, just get me there,” Jason begged and Nick nodded, trying not to laugh at the visual of Jason swinging himself into his car as if his life depended on it. 

But fuck, it sure as hell felt like it did.

🌒

YOU couldn’t bring yourself to change out of your tight leather dress. You desperately needed to take off the stupidly lacey underwear you’d worn underneath it—you’d wanted to feel hot, confident—but all it did was serve as a reminder to you of the sex that you weren’t having and that you haven’t had in a ridiculously long time. 

You sighed, staring at your reflection in the mirror and trying not to cry; you were certain by this point that you had ruined whatever friendship that you and Jason had. You’d self-sabotaged, and why? Because you’d let your stupid, selfish feelings get in the way? You were such an idiot, and even if there was a way to fix it, you were certain that there wasn’t a way to forget it.

You thought you heard a knock at the door, but you waved it off, focusing on scrubbing the makeup off of your face. It wasn’t until Jason’s deep timbre of voice floated through your apartment that you stood, frozen, before running out of the bathroom.

There he was, standing in your living room, looking distraught and glancing around anxiously for you. Rachel was gone, you noticed, and as soon as you did, Jason’s eyes found yours and a sense of relief settled across his face.

You stood across the room and downed a half-mug of coffee—Rachel had made you sober up— and you set it down slowly on the counter with a gulp, knowing that if you were going to salvage this relationship, now was the time to do it.

“Jason,” you greeted, walking slowly towards him with your hands up in surrender. “I’m so sorry, I should have never been drinking—and I definitely should have never said any of those things to you—”

“I’m in love with you,” Jason interrupted, his words coming out quickly and desperately, like he really needed to say it right then or he might never get up the courage to do it. Your body turned as cold as ice as you attempted to convince yourself that he’d said something else. Anything else, because, surely, he didn’t say what you think he just fucking said to you.

 “I—I fuckin’ love you, Y/n, and I’m so sorry that I never said it before—”

“What?” You questioned, taking a step away from him and pinching yourself lightly as you tried to deduce if this was real life. Yup; this is real. This is legit. “You—what?” 

To your utter surprise, Jason smirked; and then, he laughed. Out loud. Like this was the funniest conversation in the whole fucking world, but you really couldn’t manage to find the humor in it. 

“I love you, Panic Attack,” Jason continued with a gigantic grin on his face, grabbing your hands and pulling you towards him. You didn’t resist, allowing him to pull you into him as his arms encircled your waist, his one hand reaching up to cup your cheek and press a tiny, sweet kiss to your forehead. “I think I—fuck, no, I’ve always known that I loved you I just—fuck.”

Jason took a deep, steadying breath, leaning his forehead against yours, as if he were drawing some extra strength from you, and you felt your own eyes fluttering shut of their own accord. Funny; my heart is racing and yet, I feel so calm, so steady. How is it possible to have both at the same time? How can one person have this much of an effect on you?

“I’m so terrified that if I let myself love you, I’ll lose you and—Y/n, I can’t. I. Can’t. Fuckin’. Lose. You.”

Your entire chest felt like it was on fire—the good kind, that is—and you beamed up at him, feeling the tears spring from your eyes but not really giving a shit. 

“You’ll never lose me, Jason,” you assured him quietly, reaching up and grasping his face in your hands, giggling as you watched the large, amazingly beautiful smile of his light up his face. “I love you so much, I can’t even think sometimes—”

His mouth was on yours before you could even finish speaking, but you couldn’t give two fucks; you reciprocated the kiss with just as much fervor as he was giving you, and you found yourself leaning farther and farther into his touch, your hands clutching the bottom of his shirt as you pulled him flush against you, begging to feel more and more of him now that he’d allowed you to have the smallest of touches.

“Fuck, you taste fuckin’ amazing, and that’s just your lips,” Jason moaned into your mouth and you laughed—but your giggles soon turned into moans as Jason’s tongues caressed the inside of your mouth, causing an uncomfortable itch to grow inside of your lacey panties. 

Jason was backing you up into the wall now, his hands clutching your hips when you shifted—as if you were now his lifeline. “Damn, baby, please—I want to taste more of you, fuck, please?” 

You could get used to a whiny, begging Jason.

“Damn it, Jason, like you even have to ask,” you responded in kind, pulling down the tiny sleeves to your leather dress and not even having to wait a second before Jason’s lips were attached to your collarbone, sucking vigorously. You just knew that he was leaving you the fucking biggest hickey in the world, marking his territory like a roadmap down your neck to your chest and you shivered with electricity.

“Shit, Jason, I always knew that you’d be good at this,” you whined, and Jason grinned against your skin, his teeth pressing against the thinnest part of your bone and causing a shiver to run up and down your spine. 

“I don’t know where the fuck you got this leather dress from but baby girl, the moment I saw you in it, all I fuckin’ cared about was rippin’ it the fuck off of you,” Jason growled and you moaned against his words, throwing your head back against the wall as his hands pushed the dress the rest of the way down your torso. You opened your eyes just in time to watch as his eyes nearly bugged out of his skull.

“What?” You asked, confused, your eyes raking down your body as you inspected to see if there were any scars or new bruises that you hadn’t noticed you’d acquired. Frowning as you didn’t see anything out of place, you screeched, “What? Jason, what’s wrong? Is something stuck? Are you alright—”

“Your bra.” Jason’s voice was hoarse, constricted, and it was then that you noticed that his eyes were glued to your breasts almost anxiously, his lips trapped in between his teeth and a hissssss instead of a breath escaping his lips as he took you in. “It’s…fuck, is that just pure lace?”

You grinned evilly at him, pushing the dress past your thighs and watching as his eyes wandered down with it. He audibly whined and pulled back when he caught sight of your barely-covered pussy, throwing his head back and running a hand down his face. 

“Shit, darlin’ that—a matching set—oh, fuck!”

Jason didn’t want to waste anymore time talking, apparently, because he was already on his way downtown, his lips locking onto your breast and removing your bra completely. Your fingers clutched his hair, sure your fingernails were raking damage into his scalp, but he didn’t seem to care. Your yelps and moans were pathetic, but Jason thrived on them, intent on making you cum by just sucking your nipples and circling your most sensitive points with his tongue. 

Jason seemed to grasp the art of multitasking, because his hand shot down your body as his teeth continued to play with your nipples, his fingers tenderly stroking your clit and eliciting a whimper from your mouth.

“Dammit baby, you’re so wet,” Jason mumbled on your breast, and he shoved two fingers up inside of you, causing your breathing to hasten as your breaths came out in pants, his thumb continuing to rub your clit and his tongue not showing any mercy on your hardened nipples.

A short, few seconds later, you were there, orgasming intensely as his hand continued its very hard, important work, and you bucked further into his touch, encouraging him to remove your underwear. He smirked as he did so, but you didn’t fucking care, and you wasted no time in pulling his own clothes off of him, making sure that you took your time to appreciate how fucking fit he was. 

Your tongue raked down his abs as you made your own way down Jason’s body, stopping just short of his penis. You looked up at him with big, doe eyes, and Jason looked back down at you nervously.

“Doll, you don’t have to—”

You didn’t waste any time in taking him into your mouth completely, your mouth doing exactly what it knew how to do. He was big, but you knew you could handle it—and the way that he was moaning and writhing had you feeling insanely confident.

It was only a minute into it that Jason tore your head away by your hair, and you looked up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently.

“Quit teasin’ me,” Jason growled at you and you giggled, straightening yourself up to be back at his level.

“If you don’t like my teasing, then why are you moaning?” You antagonized, and you could see Jason’s tongue in his cheek as his eyes brightened and he shook his head at you, picking you up off of your feet and carrying you to the bathroom.

“You fuckin’ little tease,” Jason sneered and you winked at him, allowing him to set you down in his shower. “I want you wet, princess.”

You didn’t bother correcting his old nickname for you—you simply turned on the shower, allowing the hot water to encompass you both as Jason pinned you up against the shower walls, hiking a leg up as he entered you slowly, taking in your face and making sure that you were alright.

Finding the assurance that he needed, he began to pump in and out of you—him being so big that he filled your walls, hitting your g-spot with minimal effort. That, or Jason knew what he was doing, and you were willing to wager that he did. His mouth was biting, licking, and sucking at your clavicle, with one hand working your clit and the other fondling your breasts, focusing heavily on your nipples as he knew that that had made you cum the first time. 

Your eyes couldn’t help but wander up to his hair, now wet from the streaming water, and something about the brown locks hanging down and sticking to his face was so fucking sexy that it made you cum right on the spot—Jason following instantly after.

When the orgasms ended and the high faded shortly after, Jason looked at you, a cheeky smile on his face as he pressed another kiss to your lips, lingering for a long time as he seemed hesitant to let you go. 

“This is real,” you breathed out, and Jason smiled against your lips, your eyes staring at his dimple as it was so close to you now. “Right? This is really happening? You love me? And you want to be—what, my boyfriend?”

Jason laughed out loud at that and you quirked an eyebrow, confused. He only held you closer as he said:

“Sweetheart, I wanna fuckin’ marry you.”

You watched the blush sweep across his face at his admission and you smiled, pulling his head down to yours for a sweet, emotional kiss.

 “I want to take on life with you, baby—one panic attack at a time.”

You giggled, pulling him closer as you pressed another kiss to his lips.

“That was the stupidest joke that you’ve ever made, Jason Kolchek.”

Jason shrugged and turned you around so that your back was pressed to his front, his strong arms cradling around you as he sighed, pressing hundreds of kisses into your wet hair, the water from the shower encompassing you both in a stream of sex and sweetness.

“Yeah, maybe—but it’s the fuckin’ truth baby! You can’t tell me that I ain’t gonna be goin’ through a million more of these Y/n freak-outs!”

Well, yeah. Even you couldn’t deny that one. 

“Yeah, but you’re going to love every second of the panic, Jase.”

You could feel his lips against your back as he smirked.

“Damn fuckin’ straight.”

Jason taglist: @house-of-kolchek @kawaiiwitch224 @inactiveforidk @lorebite @yeslieutenant @kassiekolchek22 @pechvogel @buttermykolchek @emilykolchivans @e-jaegerenthusiast

“Wow. You exist.”

You snorted, but avoided Jason’s eyes as you exited your room, making a mental note that he must have just gotten back home. He smelled slightly like alcohol, and a lot like his sweat, and you wondered just what he was out all night doing this time.

Or who he was doing. 

You winced at yourself as you pulled your refrigerator door open, snagging a Monster and popping up the tab, ignoring Jason’s annoyed sigh. It was ridiculous for you to be jealous—he’d finally made some friends around town, mostly at your school where he now worked with Allie—but you knew that he still had a fondness for you. You just…wondered, you supposed. Wondered if now that he had friends and a life outside of you, if he would also meet someone who wasn’t you. If maybe, the only reason he’d liked you in the first place—or you thought he liked you—was simply because you were the only available girl in his vicinity. 

It had been two weeks since your performance, and the two of you had hardly seen each other. Between your late nights with midterms coming around the corner, Jason working during the day and occasionally going out with his friends at night, it was hard to touch on what your relationship was now. Were you still fake dating? Were you anything at all? Jason had always invited you when he went out, and you’d gone once or twice, but lately you were holed up in your room studying as if your life depended on it. 

“Midterms are important, Jason,” you hissed back at him, with much more malice than you’d been originally intending. You turned to him then with a frown and crossed arms, daring him to piss you off even more than you already were. Even if you logically had no reason to be pissed off. “You can’t expect me to just fucking blow them off and spend every waking moment partying with you.”

Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes, knowing you well enough now to see right through your uncaring facade. “That ain’t fair,” he responded, pushing himself off of the couch and making his way over to you, cornering you by the fridge and wrapping his hand around your energy drink, setting it down onto the counter behind him. “And it’s ten p.m., baby; not a great idea.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you sneered back, reaching back around him and snatching the Monster once again. Jason shot you a disapproving look, but made no move to take it back again. Instead, he sighed, reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“That ain’t fair, either,” Jason insisted, and you frowned as he pulled you in with his arms around your waist, knowing he was right. “You know I wouldn’t ever try to tell you what to do; and I wasn’t partyin’ tonight. I went out with some guys to the gym.”

“With alcohol?”

“And we had a few beers,” Jason finished with a knowing smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead and nuzzling his nose against yours. He hadn’t kissed you anywhere for two weeks—both of you hardly seeing each other the past two weeks—and you wondered if this was it. If he was finally going to kiss you kiss you now—but he didn’t. “It would’ve been better if you were there.”

You snorted. “Yeah. Sure. I’m sure you pulled your fair share of hotter, fit girls at the stupid gym.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Jason exclaimed, pulling slightly away from you so that he could look at your face, keeping his hands planted steadily on your waist. He had an incredulous expression painted on his face and his shock made you look away from the guilt, the reality of how abrupt and strange your outburst must have seemed to him settling over you. “What’s that all about?!

“Nothing,” you lied uneasily, unaware that your nose was scrunching and your face was pulling up into a pout that, if Jason wasn’t so worred about how pissed you seemed to be at him, he would have found adorable. 

“No, it ain’t nothin’,” Jason argued, reaching an arm out to corner you as you pulled out of his grasp and tried to leave. “And I’m sick of dancin’ around whatever the fuck I did, ‘cause you’ve been actin’ pissy for the last two weeks.”

“Wow, Jason, how sweet of you,” you deadpanned, but you and he both knew it was only a tactic to get him to shut up and drop it—and that it wasn’t working. You tried to work your way through him, but he grabbed your waist, his brown eyes concerned and even slightly annoyed. You stopped, looking up at him with a frown as you tried to hide the guilt from your eyes, knowing that you were being completely irrational.

“C’mon, Y/n.” Jason’s voice was significantly softer now, and he reached out to push your hair behind your ear, kissing your forehead again—and as he pulled away, you noticed that his eyes were wide and definitively worried. “What did I do these past few weeks to make you this upset, Y/n? What changed?”

You took a deep breath and winced, sinking further into the warmth and comfort that always was Jason Kolchek. The truth of the matter was, you were embarrassed. Actually, completely mortified. Because how could you sit here and say, actually, I’m just fucking seething with a raging jealousy; because now, I’m not the only single woman in your life and you’re probably going to figure out—if you haven’t figured it out, already—that there are plenty of other more beautiful, more normal women who you’d probably much rather be with. 

Yeah, no fucking way you could say that to Jason. You just couldn’t. It sounded…crazy, and what would you even be doing if you admitted that to him? You’d be handing your true feelings over on a silver platter, and that would be giving him the upper hand in this situation. Not to mention, you weren’t even sure that he felt the same way as you. If he did, and if you were certain of it, you’d probably just bite the bullet and tell him how you were feeling.

“Nothing,” you insisted, but you could feel your resolve weakening. Jason raised an eyebrow at you and you huffed back, but made no move to pull away as he encircled his arms around your waist, one hand cupping your cheek and pushing hair away from your eyes. “Just—forget about it, alright?”

“You and I both know that ain’t gonna happen,” Jason answered with a large, amused smile, your eyes wandering over to his dimple as they always did. “So, once again, Y/n, what’s wrong and how can I fix it?”

You sighed in defeat, shaking your head, before gathering the courage to look up into his kind, concerned eyes. With a gulp, you said, “You have a job now, Jason, and—and friends. And you see them a lot.”

“Oh,” Jason responded instantly, unknowingly cutting off the second and more embarrassing part of your admission. His brow furrowed as he thought over your words and you waited for him to speak. “And I’m spending too much time going out with my friends?”

“No, absolutely not,” you refuted immediately, wincing as you realized just how much of an idiot you sounded. How silly your fears actually were. “I just—it’s—before, you only knew me, and now you know…other girls, and, I don’t know—maybe now you’ll meet another girl who is prettier, or tougher, or just more your type, you know? And you didn’t actually like me because I’m me, but because I was your only option.”

Now that the words were out, you actually felt relieved, like somehow telling Jason had actually been the weight you were carrying and not the fear itself. At least, you felt relieved before you heard Jason’s reaction; a loud, bellowing laugh. 

Offended, you pushed him away, crossing your arms over your chest and taking a few steps away from him. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything,” you grumbled, glaring harder at him when you saw that he was still smiling, amusedly, back at you. “It’s not like we’re real dating so it’s so fucking stupid, right?”

Your final words were laced with sarcasm and it seemed to register with Jason immediately, and you watched his face fall. You walked away and he instantly followed you around the counter, catching you fron behind the waist this time and wrapping his arms around your middle, his face nuzzling into your cheek. 

“Wait, baby, no!” Jason’s voice came out as a beg and it caused you to pause, just for a moment. “Y/n, I wasn’t laughin’ at you, sweetheart. It’s just that—and no offense, baby—but that idea is completely ridiculous.” 

You wriggled out of his grasp and turned around to look at him with a pout, ignoring his more-than-amused smile. Your arms were crossed over your chest again, and he tucked a stray hair behind your ear, letting his hand drop as he shook his head back at you, fondness lying inside his eyes as he stared at you. 

“Look, sweetheart, it ain’t like you were keepin’ me hostage here,” Jason sighed, taking a step back as a redness colored his face. You wondered what he was embarrassed about, and desperately hoped that he was about to tell you. “I was free to leave whenever I wanted from the beginning of this little arrangement—and it’s not like I didn’t have access to bars, or clubs, or even the internet—and, other women, baby. But, believe it or not, Y/n, you ain’t actually the worst company in the world. Did’ya ever stop and think that just maybe I choose to stay here and spend my time with you, sweetheart? That maybe I actually do prefer your company? And that maybe I think you’re motherfuckin’ beautiful? That maybe—just maybe, Y/n—you are exactly my fuckin’ type?!”

You were stunned silent, standing frozen and rooted to your spot as your wide eyes and gaping jaw stared back up at Jason’s face, which had softened into a warm, comforting smile as he lifted his hand back up to stroke your cheekbones with his thumbs. 

“W-what?” You stuttered, unable to form any real thoughts or words as Jason’s admission bounced around your head wildly, unrelenting, unwilling to give you any rest from his truth. 

That maybe—just maybe—you are exactly my type?

Jason chuckled again and leaned in so close to you that you could feel his breath on your lips. 

“Y’heard me, princess,” Jason whispered, his arms on the counter behind you, trapping your body, your chests nearly pressed together and his lips so, so close to being where you’d wanted them for longer than you’d care to admit. His eyes roamed over your face until they locked on your lips, and you watched as he ran his tongue over his own lips, eyes steady and unwavering on your mouth. “You really ain’t the worst company when you’re not being obnoxious.”

You gasped and Jason laughed heartily, not even the least bit offended when you teasingly shoved him away. His eyes moved from your lips to your eyes, and there was a teasing, happy glint within them that alone melted your anxieties away.  

“Shut up and go shower,” you hissed back without any bite, your lips upturned in a smile as Jason grinned back at you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head with a wink, leaving you flushing and speechless as he hurried off to the bathroom. The domesticity of it all—and Jason’s admission that he did, indeed, like you—left you feeling dizzy and giddy, a large smile stuck to your face as you shoved your energy drink back into the fridge, cuddling up instead with a hot chocolate and a large blanket on the couch. 

I can take a tiny break from studying tonight, you reasoned with yourself, a content sigh pushing past your lips as you smiled to yourself. I can hangout—for a bit. 

You waited, warm and cozy and happy, underneath your blanket as Jason showered, knowing exactly how he’d smell when he came out. That woodsy soap he used made you absolutely feral and tonight, you were certain there would be no holding back anymore. The two of you were crossing a line, slowly, and you were finally ready to take the plunge to the other side with him. 

You were just contemplating changing into something a little sexier and dabbing on some perfume when there was a knock at your door. Checking the time—it was nearing eleven p.m.---you rose from the couch, abandoning your warm spot on the couch and cautiously making your way over to the door. You could still hear the sounds of Jason’s shower, the water probably still running down over his body, as you stood in front of your apartment door. You tugged your sweater down and rolled down the sleeves, creeping up onto your tiptoes to check the peephole.

You couldn’t make out anything but pitch black, and your veins ran cold, your blood feeling like ice flowing through your limbs. You took a step back to clear your head, and weighed your options.

Nobody but a handful of people knew where you lived, so at this hour, it was likely Derek and/or Allie at the door. The only other people who knew where your apartment was actually located, aside from you and Jason, were your mom and Chrissy. You knew your mom wouldn’t set foot inside of your apartment, but it could be Chrissy, probably back with some bullshit. 

Annoyed at just the thought, you snarled, throwing open the door before you could really second guess yourself. You looked up at the person’s face—expecting your brother to be standing there with some news or something—but you were horribly, horribly wrong.

And if you thought your blood had run ice cold before, it was fucking frozen in place now.

“Y/n,” he greeted. Him. Dylan. My ex-boyfriend who almost—he’s back, he—how did he find me? What is he doing here? How does he know where I live? “Wow, your hair—it’s so different now. You look amazing.”

Panicked and unaware of how to proceed, you tried to hurriedly to shut the door, but his foot blocked it, a smile on his face as he chuckled. His jet-black hair and diamond blue eyes—eyes you had once fallen so far into that you’d nearly drowned—were so familiar and terrifying that you ached, desperate to get away, to get him away.

Cold, so cold. Blood spilling out onto the carpet. Your life, ended, at his hands—

“Hey now, I know this might come as sort of a shock baby, but you don’t need to shut me out again,” Dylan chided, but you kept your hand tight on the door, afraid that he was going to bust his way in and finish off what he’d started years ago. Afraid that in mere seconds, you’d be back in that hospital, and maybe this time, nobody would be able to save you. 

“Don’t,” you managed to choke out, hands tight on the door, both of you pushing against each other as he attempted to force his way in and you attempted to keep him out. “Don’t you fucking call me that, you bastard.”

“Wow, still keeping up with the name-calling?” Dylan looked genuinely offended, like he’d thought you’d be giving him a warm welcome. “That hurts, Y/n, don’t you know that by now?”

“It hurts?” You shot back, afraid, but unwilling to stand down. “As much as multiple broken ribs? Or black eyes? Or nearly being strangled to death?”

You were playing with motherfucking fire but you didn’t care. You needed to show him—he needed to know—you weren’t that same terrified, fragile woman anymore. You could stand up for yourself now. You would fight back now.

Dylan’s face twisted in agony—a trick you’d seen many, many times before—and he took a step closer, successfully garnering his way into the apartment. He’d always been much stronger than me, physically. You gulped and took multiple steps near the kitchen, towards the knives, in case things escalated.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Dylan apologized, and even now that you knew all of his machinations, his voice almost convinced you that he meant it. Almost. “If I could take it all back, I would—I had so many issues, baby, but I’m better now—”

“I said don’t call me that,” you hissed back at him, backing up so far that your back hit the counter. Dylan’s eyebrows quirked, like it was funny, and you needed to turn back the tables and take the offensive. Straightening up with a snarl, you said, “Why the fuck are you even here? How the fuck do you know where I live?!”

“I told you, I’ve changed,” Dylan responded, taking a step closer to you. You clutched the counter, eyeing the glimmer in his eyes that you knew could change on a dime. “I miss you so much—you were so good to me, baby. Please—all I want is another chance.”

“To kill me?” You shrieked, and you were clutching the counter so hard that your hands were turning white and a few of your fingernail tips were breaking. 

“Don’t be like that,” Dylan chastised, and you noticed the edge in his voice—a tell of his, that he was starting to get past the point of irritated, starting to move into the danger zone. “Please, I promise you, this time I’ll be different. I miss you, my mom misses you, and I know what I lost baby.” Dylan took a step closer to you and you held your breath as he placed his palm on your cheek, cold hands stroking you as you tried not to burst into tears. “And I have it on good authority that you miss me, too—”

“Get out,” you commanded, pushing him away by the chest with both of your hands and crossing over to the door, hastily opening it back up. “Get the hell out of here Dylan, and don’t fucking come back. Ever.”

You watched as Dylan’s face changed from soft to hard, begging to fixed, and you blanched, fully prepared to scream, to fight, to do whatever you had to do. 

“C’mon Y/n, be reasonable here,” Dylan pleaded, a wicked smile crossing his lips, sure he’d be getting his way. “How much more do I have to beg? How many more times are you going to make me apologize? I told you I was sorry.”

“Apologize all you want,” you deadpanned, clutching the doorknob and jerking your head to the open door. “I’ll never believe you. Never again.” Dylan’s smile turned into an agitated frown and you felt yourself blanch, despite your protestations to just be brave. 

“Come on,” Dylan begged as he drew nearer to you, but you could see his jaw clenched and his eyes fiery with anger. “Can’t we just go out for a minute, go on a walk, and talk this all over? I’ve been to therapy, I’ve changed, and I still love you, Y/n.”

“No, absolutely not,” you insisted harshly, pulling away once again from his touch and rushing towards the living room, feeling like a mouse caught in a trap. “I don’t give a fuck if you’ve changed, I don’t care if you’ve gone to therapy—all I care about is you getting the fuck out of my house,” you admitted, and it was then that you realized that your hands were shaking, and you probably weren’t very convincing. Dylan scoffed, and smiled, and he was advancing towards you when you started screaming.

“OUT! GET OUT! GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT—”

“Y/n?!” 

Jason’s voice is what broke you out of your fear-filled trance, reminding you that you weren’t alone here—that you weren’t as unsafe as your PTSD led you to believe. With wide eyes, your head whipped towards the hallway and there he was, Jason, rushing towards you, wearing nothing but wet, wet hair and a pale blue towel wrapped around his waist. You were so motherfucking terrified that you couldn’t even allow yourself to enjoy the view.

Jason seemed to be assessing the situation—you had to hand it to him, he was observant and much smarter than he looked—and he reached you quickly, stepping protectively in front of you as he took Dylan in, up and down, no doubt wondering just who the fuck he was and why he had you so on edge by just his presence. He was studying him too, you noticed, as if Dylan could ever even compare to the marvel that was Jason Kolchek. 

“What’s goin’ on here?” Jason questioned, calm and collected, even though he must have suspected that anybody who could make you scream like that and be so frightened was somebody who warranted heavy suspicion. “There some sort of problem here, man?”

“No, sorry bro,” Dylan answered with a faux smile, the one that fooled so many people. The oh-so-charming one that let him walk away with you without any suspicion from the general public. “No problem; I just need to speak to Y/n for a minute, alright?”

Jason looked down at you then, at your eyes—wide, petrified, tear-stricken. All you had to do was simply shake your head back at him and he understood, his own jaw clenching and taking on an even more protective stance as he turned back to your ex.

“Yeah, I don’t think so, man,” Jason responded, nodding towards the door. “Think it’s time for you to leave.” You could tell by the way that Dylan’s smile barely faltered that this wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but he was still trying to play up the charm. Still trying to make himself look innocent. 

“Alright, well, can I come back then, Y/n? I really think that we need to talk—I really need you to hear what I have to say, baby,” Dylan responded and you bristled, noticing the way that Jason stiffened in confusion beside you.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” you insisted, your voice low and angry. “I’m not your ‘baby,’ I’m not your girlfriend—I’m not your anything. Don’t come back here. Leave, and don’t come back here!” 

Your voice was no longer bordering hysterical, it was there, and Jason took that as his cue to grab Dylan’s arm and personally escort him to the door.

“Time to go, man,” Jason growled and Dylan twisted around to stare at you with a snarl.

“Oh yeah?” He chided, nodding towards you. “If she didn’t want to see me so badly, then why the fuck did she let me in, then?” Jason didn’t take the bait, his hand tightening around Dylan’s arm as he glanced back at you, halfway to the front door.

“Is that so?” Jason laughed, shoving Dylan through the doorway. “Let’s just see about that then, buddy; you invite him in, Y/n?”

All you could do was shake your head, but Jason turned to see it, his gaze hardening as he looked back at your scumbag of an ex-boyfriend. “Did’ya ask him to leave?” Jason asked, his voice conveying that he already knew the answer to that question.

“Multiple times,” you choked out and Jason shoved him even harder, the anger palpable  through the rigidity that he was currently holding within his body. 

“Sounds like she asked you to leave,” Jason taunted, “So leave.”

“And just who the fuck do you think that you are?!” Dylan hissed back and Jason laughed out loud, efficiently blocking the doorway and your view of the man who had almost taken your life. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m her boyfriend,” Jason responded and you moved close enough to see Dylan’s face fall, turning white. “Now get out of my fuckin’ house!” 

You saw Dylan shake his head, a muttered, “Stupid little slut,” under his breath as he turned and left, apparently realizing that if it came down to it, he couldn’t take Jason in a fight. Jason shut and bolted the door before he turned to you, rushing back to your side eagerly as his hands came to your face, one on your neck and one on your cheek.

“Sweetheart, are you—are you alright?” 

You couldn’t even muster the strength to answer—your heart was still beating so wildly that you were certain it was going to burst out of your chest. If you didn’t have a heart attack first. 

“Y/n, what’s wrong? Who the hell was that?” Jason tried again, and you leaned into his comfort, not even thinking about the fact that he was practically naked. You couldn’t really think about anything right now. 

“Dylan,” you responded numbly, your voice monotone as you felt yourself emotionally shut down, your mind and body attempting to prevent you from the trauma. “My ex-boyfriend. It was a…” Your mind could barely form the words; how could you tell Jason who this was? How could you tell him that this man almost killed you?! “...bad breakup.”

“No,” Jason argued, pulling you into him by the waist and holding you close. You should’ve known that he could read you and your lies like a fucking book. “No fuckin’ way that’s all it is baby. I’m sorry, but your reaction is way too extreme to just be an ex-boyfriend.”

“He—no, he just—”

“Please, just—just tell me what happened sweetheart,” Jason begged, and you shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. “You can trust me with anything, Y/n, you know that—right?”

Of course—of course you knew that. And you did; you trusted Jason more than you trusted anyone but you just…couldn’t do this right now. You couldn’t—you couldn’t do this. Not here, not now. You couldn’t relive this right now. 

“Fuck, Jason, just—just let it go,” you whined, clutching your head as you pulled away from him, allowing the tears to overtake your eyes and your throat. “Please don’t ask me. Don’t ask me again.”

“Sweetheart, I just want to help—”

“I said don’t ask me again!” You shrieked, whipping back around and staring Jason down, your breaths coming in hurried pants as you felt the panic attack begin to overtake you. Your airway was closing up, your body was shaking, you were dizzy. If you had to bet, you’d bet that there were tears streaming down your face, even though you couldn’t feel them falling. 

Fuck, you needed to ground yourself. What had your therapist taught you?

Five things you can see, four things you can feel, three things you can smell, two things you can hear, one thing you can taste.

Jason. Jason’s pale blue towel. His fucking sexy brown hair, dripping wet. His eight? Wow, yeah eight-pack. His large, brown eyes, looking me over with concern. 

I can feel my sweater. I can feel the ground beneath my feet. I can feel my hair against my neck. I can feel the rings on my fingers that I haven’t taken off in years. 

I can smell Jason’s shampoo—his farmboy, woodsy shit that I can never get out of my head. I can smell last night’s pasta. I can smell my own sweat from my lack of a shower for a few days. 

I hear Jason saying my name, softly. I hear my own breathing beginning to slow down.

I can taste the bile, returning back into my stomach where it belongs. 

“I’m sorry,” you said once you’d calmed down, taking a deep breath and allowing Jason to approach you. He did, his hands hanging by his side as he tentatively looked up at you from under his wet hair, unsure of what to do next. “I just—I need to calm down. I can’t talk about this right now, I—I need to go to bed now.”

“With me?” 

Jason’s voice was so hopeful but so quiet—almost as if he’d never spoken at all. Your heart filled with such an overwhelming warmth and giddiness that even if you’d wanted to, you weren’t sure you could have turned him down.

“Please,” you whispered back, and Jason’s lips lifted up into a smile as he followed you to the bedroom—where he already kept his clothes, anyways—and you turned around with your eyes shut tight, letting him change, afraid of what you might do if you saw him. All of him.

Jason seemed to know what you were thinking because he smirked when he came into your line of sight, fully clothed, and you scowled at him, ignoring the way his eyes seemed to light up at the unspoken confrontation. Silently, the two of you crawled into bed and you fell asleep with his arms around you, his lips resting gently on your neck without ever kissing you at all. 

*                                *                                     *                             *                                  *

Someone was watching you.

You thought.

You were pretty certain.

You also could have just been extra paranoid by your surprise visitor the night before, but you really didn’t think so. You could feel it, somebody’s eyes burning a hole into the back of your head. In each of your classes, in the hallways, in the parking lot. 

You were scared; but you had Jason on speed-dial, and your fingers were already ready to go in the case of an emergency. You knew that, should the need arise, he wouldn’t waste any time in getting to you—work be damned. 

You tried to calm yourself down, but still, the feeling of being followed wouldn’t leave you alone.

Which is why you shouldn’t have been so surprised when you felt his dangerously cold hands wrap around your neck.

“Did you miss me, baby?” Dylan asked as he whipped you around a dark corner, shoving you up against a nearby wall roughly, his hand never leaving its place on your throat. He pushed up against you harder and you gasped out a little breath of air, your eyes wide and terrified as you realized that the two of you were alone. No people, no cars, no streetlights. Not in this parking lot, and not this late at night.

In retrospect, not your smartest move.

“You know, it wasn’t very nice for you to let that asshole kick me out the other night,” Dylan pouted, and he had one hand on your waist while the other was still firmly pushed around your throat. If he applied even the slightest bit more pressure, you wouldn’t be able to breathe. 

I know what that feels like. 

“Not when you and I both know you don’t want him, you want me. Right baby?”

Your face contorted into a strangled glare as you attempted to kick him, but it was no use. He was much stronger than you, and he had you pinned. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words came out jumbled and choked, his hand suppressing your airway enough that you couldn’t even speak.

“What’s that, baby?” Dylan asked, easing up on your throat—just a little bit. 

You took the moment to snarl at him, spit in his face, and say, “I don’t want you and I will never want you, you abusive piece of shit!” 

You’d known it was a risk to be so aggressive, but you’d forgotten what it felt like to lose your last string of breath, to have black spots invade your vision, until Dylan used his full force against your neck and you lost all sense of air, your hands winding around his arm as you tried desperately to pull him away from you.

You tried to do anything—to kick, or thrash, or even scream—but all three attempts were unsuccessful. Dylan clearly didn’t appreciate your attempts to escape, as his hand tightened even more around your neck and you began to gag, the light stars at the edges of your vision the only thing you could see.

“Please,” Dylan scoffed, his hold loosening on your throat and allowing you a bit of air, your vision clearing on his sadistic, disgusting face. “If you really didn’t want me, then why would you have kept coming back to me—over and over and over again—and let me keep beating and beating and beating you? Only someone who really loves me would do that—be so fucking weak and pathetic, all for me?” You didn’t even have the strength to gag at his disgusting words, his twisted logic, even though every fibre of your being wanted to. In fact, your body barely reacted until he uttered his next admission.

 “I know you love me—you don’t have to deny it anymore. Chrissy told me.”

Your eyes widened and shock coursed through your system at his words; Chrissy told him?! The same Chrissy who watched you be hit? Who helped you out of it? Who hid you, and cried with you, and called the police with you?

No. No, even she wouldn’t do that. 

“Chrissy?” You managed to squeak out and Dylan nodded, a laugh on the tip of his lips as they spread across his face, mean, cheshire-like. Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach at his admission and you could no longer tell whether the tears in the corners of your eyes were from lack of air, or betrayal. 

“Chrissy,” Dylan confirmed and if you could have gasped, you just might have. “Called me up the other day, told me how you still felt about me. How do you think I found you?”

The damning realization hit you like a ton of bricks and you thought you might have managed to gasp this time, or at the very least, you let out a small, nearly silent sob. Dylan’s voice barely registered in your brain, the reality of what Chrissy had done to you still reverberating around your head, unable to truly stick due to your unwillingness to accept the harsh truth.

“Now I’m going to give you one more chance to answer honestly—do you still love me, Y/n? Or do you love him?” 

You knew he had to be talking about Jason. He had clearly rattled Dylan’s ego yesterday, and you assumed that it was what was causing his rage right now—a rage you’d seen all too often with him. Often enough that you knew it was only going to get worse from here.

Dylan had always seen you as a possession; a pathetic, feeble little thing that he could always get to come back to him, no matter how horribly he treated you. Now that you had taken the upper hand and left him, and then found somebody else to be with, he couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t handle the fact that his poor little bird wasn’t flying back to his coop anymore.

That fact made you mad; madder than you’d ever been. Mad at Dylan, mad at Chrissy, mad at yourself for not paying closer attention to your surroundings. For not going straight to the police when Dylan had shown up on your doorstep last night. For not listening to Jason this morning when he’d begged you to do just that. 

Dylan loosened his grip tremendously, but still not enough for you to make any sort of escape—which you guessed was the point. 

“I don’t love you,” you growled back at him, your voice already sounding hoarse and broken from the force of his hands. You didn’t care if you sounded weak to him anymore; you knew better now. You weren’t weak, and you would never be weak, ever again. “I will never love you, ever, again!” 

Dylan’s face twisted and turned into an ugly, desperate, wounded scowl; your words had hurt him, and maybe somewhere deep down, he knew what he was doing was wrong. That he was a disgusting piece of shit. Maybe; but it certainly wasn’t your job to see that through. Not anymore. 

Dylan’s hands returned with full force on your neck but you fought back this time, able to gain some headway as you kicked back against him, loosening his grip slightly. You took the opportunity to kick your flailing legs towards his crotch, and you knew that you had struck your mark when Dylan gasped out in pain and accidentally released you, your body hitting the cold, concrete floor as you gasped desperately for the breath that was rushing back into your system much too quickly. 

You knew you didn’t have a moment to waste and so you didn’t waste any, getting to your feet and hitting the ground running as fast as your legs were physically able to take you. You knew that he was hot on your heels but you couldn’t bear to turn back and check, only focusing on moving forward and finding your car, or another person, or any form of escape at all. 

You knew you were fucked when you hit a dead end, running into a corner that you knew students sometimes frequented—except for, apparently, right now, because it was deserted. Your body whipped around and you saw Dylan, advancing on you much closer than you’d thought he was, and with an angry, spiteful smile on his face. You whimpered in fear, pushing yourself farther into the corner as you attempted to put as much distance as you could between you and him. 

“What, you thought you could actually outrun me?” Dylan taunted with a laugh and a shake of his head. You were shaking and you were trapped now, knowing that you had absolutely nowhere else to go. You’d never be able to run past him without him grabbing you, and there was nobody else here.

This was it this time. 

“After what I did to you the last time that I saw you?” Dylan chuckled, as if you were the stupidest person in the entire world. Maybe you were. “Oh Y/n, you stupid fucking idiot, you. It was always meant to be this way; you were always meant to be submissive to me. You are my inferior half, Y/n, and the sooner you accept it—the easier it will be for you.”

You opened your mouth to bite back—if you died here, at least you’d die knowing you didn’t give him the fucking satisfation—but your words caught in your throat when you suddenly saw something. A flash of movement, from behind Dylan in the distance. 

Someone running—someone running up to you. And gaining traction quite fast.

It took less than a minute for you to realize that it was Jason—and you gasped, your eyes alighting with hope just as Dylan was about to reach you. Dylan noticed the change and smiled, shaking his head as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them against the wall.

“That joy for me, baby?” He was smug, like he really thought that you had accepted him beating the ever-loving shit out of you. “If so, then you have no fucking idea what’s coming—”

Jason’s fist to the side of his head cut off his words, and his grip on your wrists. Dylan fell to the ground, clutching his head, and you locked eyes with Jason for a split second, your heart pounding harder than you’d ever felt it beat before. You ran to his side and he pulled you into him, looking at you with a strange mix of fear, anger, and relief. He didn’t say anything to you as he pushed you behind him and reared back on Dylan, the back of his body the only thing you could see as he kicked your ex back to the ground.

“Y/n, call the police.” Jason’s voice was deeper than usual, low, and shaky. Like he were trying to hold back just how angry he was—trying to hold back just what he wanted to do to Dylan. “Tell them that you have a restrainin’ order that’s been broken, and tell them exactly what he did to you and where we are. And tell them to send an ambulance.”

“But I don’t need—” your voice was still hoarse and Jason turned around with worried eyes when he heard how awful you sounded. “I don’t need an ambulance.” 

Jason swallowed and turned back to Dylan, his voice something different, something feral when he said, “It’s not for you.”

You whipped out your phone and frantically dialed 911, hearing Jason’s voice in the background as he pinned Dylan to the ground, his knee to his throat as he took Dylan’s breath away—just like Dylan had taken yours.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I need—I need police! And—and maybe an ambulance. At the Smith parking garage; my ex-boyfriend attacked me, I have a restraining order against him.”

“If you ever fuckin’ come near her ever again—if you ever touch her, or even think about touchin’ her— I promise you right here and right now, I will fuckin’ kill you,” Jason threatened lowly. You stood off to the side a little bit away, and you stared at Jason; his jaw was clenched and his hands were balled up into fists, clutching onto Dylan’s shirt as he slammed him into the ground, digging his knee even farther into his throat. 

“You’re lucky she’s here right now, or I would fuckin’ end you, you abusive piece of shit!” Jason’s voice was irate, indignant, and you could see in Dylan’s eyes just how scared he was suddenly. He no longer held any control, no longer felt powerful; no, now he was pinned, and alone, and weak, and the consequences of his actions were upon him.

Finally. Finally, you could breathe. Finally, you felt…hopeful.

“Police are on their way; are you hurt ma’am?”

“A little, he—he choked me, but my current boyfriend is here now and he’s restraining him.”

“You’re damn lucky I ain’t a motherfuckin’ lowlife pile of horseshit like you, ‘cause if I was, I’d beat you senseless,” Jason growled, and now that you drew nearer, you could see he was only holding him down—with enough pressure to hurt him, but not enough to seriously wound him. “No, I ain’t gonna stoop down to your level, asshole; I ain’t ever gonna do anything as fucked as you. You know why? ‘Cause I would never hurt Y/n. And I sure as hell ain’t gonna scare her, either.”

Jason leaned down close to Dylan’s face and Dylan was gasping for breath, his blue eyes wide and darting around, terrified, as if there were someone around that would help him.

But there was only you. 

  “But listen here close you fuckin’ douchebag; I promise you, if you ever come around again, ever, I will walk back on my own fuckin’ words gladly and I will kill you myself.”

“Is your boyfriend hurting your ex-boyfriend?”

“No, ma’am, just—he’s just keeping him away from me.” 

It wasn’t a lie, Jason wasn’t hurting Dylan. All he was doing was keeping him pinned to the ground, keeping him away from you, and making sure that Dylan knew that Jason was much, much stronger than him. 

It was only seconds later that the police finally showed up, and everything began to happen in a blurred haze. Dylan was cuffed and taken away—the police had figured out pretty quickly that Jason hadn’t done anything wrong here—and you were put in the ambulance, being checked over by paramedics while Jason paced nervously nearby, running his hands through his hair and sending you frequent, anxious glances. 

When you were cleared to go—nothing but a few bad bruises—you ran to Jason, who took you in with open arms and buried his face in your shoulder, his body heaving with deep, anxious breaths as he held you so close and so tightly to him, as if he were terrified of letting you go. 

“Sweetheart, fuck,” Jason swore, clutching you tighter to him and pressing kisses to the top of your head wildly, as if he’d been scared he’d never get to again. “Fuck, baby, I was so scared—”

“I know, Jason, I know; I’m so sorry, I should have listened to you—”

“No, I’m so sorry, baby, but when—fuck, when I saw the bruises on your neck and when I heard your voice—fuck, I barely held back. I wanted to kill him. I still want to kill him!” 

“Shh,” you comforted, and you noticed that Jason was shaking, clearly more affected by the night’s events than you had anticipated. “It’s okay, I’m okay now—”

Jason pulled away from you and cradled your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead fiercely. “I should have stayed with you all day today,” Jason apologized, his eyes looking down and sad. “I felt so fuckin’ wrong about you leavin’ by yourself earlier so I called Derek and I told him about what happened and he— and he told me that I had to find you and thank God I fuckin’ came when I did, I can’t even think what might have happened if—if I—”

Jason seemed to think better of his ramblings, shaking his head, and straightening up, as if physically reminding himself to be the strong one here. 

“I’m so sorry if I scared you, sweetheart,” Jason apologized and you raised an eyebrow at his fears. Scare you? How could he think that he scared you?! He fucking saved you, he—if it wasn’t for him, you might not even be here right now. “But—fuck, the thought of anybody hurtin’ you, of puttin’ their damn hands on you in that kind of way, it—well, it, it makes me—”

Jason seemed at a loss for words, and you could see the anger burning in his eyes, his hands shaking as he thought about just what had almost happened to you. You smiled at him, pressing a kiss to his shaking hands.

“Angry?” You supplied, and Jason looked at you so intensely that your legs nearly buckled when he did so.

“No,” he insisted, pulling you closer and winding his fingers through your hair, as if he were afraid to let you go. “No, the way I feel about that fuckin’ prick— angry is too damn nice of a word.”

It was hard to deny the swirling emotions in your chest at this moment, the things that you were feeling for Jason—but you didn’t want to say them, didn’t want to give them a voice, because the second that you did? It became real, and real was scary. Real could end. Real could be rejected. Real could not go the way that you wanted it to, at all. 

So instead, you drew yourself back into his chest, your arms winding around his waist and his eagerly returning your embrace. You buried your head into his chest, breathing in his scent, holding him close and tight so you didn’t have to see his face when you spoke the next words you planned to say.

“You could never scare me, Jason, you—you saved me,” you reassured him, pressing a small kiss to his pecs and pushing the way that that felt to the back of your mind for later. “You’re always…always saving me.”

Jason was quiet for a while, standing there in the middle of the parking lot stroking your hair. You wondered for a long moment if he hadn’t heard you, if you should say what you’d said again, but after a moment, Jason sighed.

“I ain’t ever gonna leave you, you know that right?” Jason promised softly, and you shut your eyes tight against the tears that threatened to spill out from them. “You’re never gonna have to deal with this again by yourself, alright? Ain’t no one ever gonna hurt you, ever again. You’re safe with me.”

And that was the first time—but certainly not the last—that you broke down in wretching, painful sobs in front of Jason Kolchek.

*                                    *                                   *                                   *                                  *

One week. 

One.

That’s how long you and Jason had been holed up in your apartment, taking a much-needed society break after what had happened with Dylan. The police had updated you—he’d left town, Jason had apparently spooked him pretty well—and he was never going to bug you again. Not as long as he thought Jason was around, at least, and you were certain now that you would truly never hear from that toxic piece of shit ever again. 

Jason had moved, officially, into your room—you could no longer sleep alone, and it was easier this way, anyways— and the two of you had slipped into somewhat of a semi-real, semi-fake relationship. You cuddled, you held hands, you joked, you tickled, you teased—but you didn’t kiss. Neither one of you seemed to figure out when, or if, you could cross that line and so you just hadn’t. You weren’t even certain that Jason felt the same way about you that you did about him, but you were certain that he cared about you. You only hoped that it was in the way you wanted him to, you hoped that he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him. 

For now, you were content with the way that it was. Living in your own tiny little bubble for a week, pretending that the outside world just simply didn’t exist. 

Of course, that could never last.

The morning of your seventh day of hiding out, there was a harsh knocking on the door. You and Jason had been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and he was telling you the most bizarre story about a day on a farm and you were laughing, happy, when it happened. Jason had seen the way that you seized up, the fear obvious in your eyes, and he’d frowned, jumping up out of bed and hurrying to the door to vet whoever decided to come by today without calling first—a rule you’d made everyone who came regularly abide by now.

You had sat up in bed, tense, and you were listening more intently than you ever had in your entire life, trying to piece out who was at the front door. You heard Jason open the door, and then there was a strange silence. Until:

“Get out. Now.” Jason’s warning and the dark tone in his voice made you jump out of bed, scurrying to throw on a hoodie over the tank top you were wearing as you headed out of your room.

“No, please—I need to talk to Y/n, please. I’m her friend—just stay out of it and let me talk to her!” Chrissy sounded so desperate that it actually made you pause for just a second in the hallway. 

You had told Jason everything, of course. Everything that Dylan had done to you—that night and in your previous relationship. You told him that Chrissy knew about it. That even though she knew what he’d done to you, she still gave him your location.

Needless to say, Jason wasn’t exactly a fan of hers before—but he absolutely despised Chrissy now.

“She doesn’t wanna talk to you,” Jason hissed back, and as you rounded the corner, you could see that he was blocking her from coming down the hallway. Your blonde friend—ex-friend—had tears streaming down her cheeks and she looked ready to punch your boyfriend—fake boyfriend?---in the face. “And she sure as hell shouldn’t have to, so, get the fuck out of our house, now.”

You turned around to go back to your room—Jason was right, you didn’t want to speak to Chrissy—but she caught sight of you before you could disappear, her big eyes wide and hopeful. 

“Y/n!” She called out and you froze where you stood, hands crossed over your chest and already starting to feel the sting of hurt tears at the corner of your eyes. You locked eyes with Jason and you could see the tension rolling off of him, likely wondering if this was going to send you into a spiral again. Wondering what he could do to save you from this hurt.

But that’s the thing; he couldn’t. Nobody can save anybody else from hurting, because pain is inevitable.

“What—” Fuck, your voice was so cracked and teary already. You shook your head and wiped the tears that had already fallen down your cheeks, but realized that there was nothing you could do about it. You were crying, she had made you cry, and now she had to deal with the consequences of her own actions. “Chrissy, what are you doing here?”

“I got a call from Dylan—at the hospital!” She said it like an accusation, like—like you were the one in the wrong. You felt your lips quivering and Jason backed out from between the two of you, choosing to stand to the side and lean against the wall. Close by, in case you needed him, but not overriding your own decision to speak or not speak to Chrissy. “He told me that your boyfriend—” She stopped mid-sentence to shoot a disgusted glare at Jason, who didn’t even flinch— “Beat the shit out of him and put him in the hospital!”

You already knew that that wasn’t true—the police had said no damage was actually done to your asshole of an ex-boyfriend, unfortunately—so you knew that he must have gone to the hospital himself, made a pathetic sob story, and then tried to sell it to your ex-friend. 

The thing was, you really didn’t care to correct her anymore. All you wanted at this point was some sort of closure, and you weren’t even sure that that was such a good idea, anyways.

“Why the hell did you tell Dylan where I was?” You accused instead, ignoring her false accusations, and your voice was beginning to be high-pitched and hysterical, your emotions practically pouring out of you. “You know—you know—what he did to me!”

Chrissy stepped closer to you and Jason flinched, but didn’t move, watching her like a hawk as he trusted you to make your own decisions. Still, he fixed a nasty glare on Chrissy as he watched her, clearly his hate for her no longer being concealed on your account. Not that you could give a fuck, anymore. 

“I just thought—well, you and Dylan were so good together,” Chrissy excused, and you scoffed, your eyes widening because you couldn’t believe the shit coming out of her mouth. She thought you were good together?! You and the man who beat you? “You’ve always been so overdramatic about everything, Y/n, that I thought you’d just overexaggerated some things about your relationship. Dylan was always so nice—there was no way he actually ever hit you, he loved you!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” You screamed back, and you knew that the neighbors could probably hear you but you couldn’t really give a shit right now. “Chrissy—you’ve seen him backhand me! You came to the hospital when I had—” You choked out a sob and Jason rushed to you, rubbing your arms comfortingly, his eyes pleading for you to let him handle this. “When I had broken ribs, and a swollen, bruised face and—what the fuck did you think, that I did that to myself?”

Chrissy seemed at a loss for words and, to her very small credit, did actually look a little bit guilty. “I don’t—I don’t know how you got there—”

“No, Chrissy, are you fucking kidding me?” You continued on, your rage beginning to build as you pushed past Jason, staring the person who you could finally see as your bully in the face and defending yourself. “You actually think that I would lie about something like that? You think that that’s the kind of person that I am?”

Chrissy’s nostrils flared and you could tell that you had hit a nerve. “Don’t act like you’re so much better than me, you bitch—”

“Alright, that’s it,” Jason jumped in, pushing himself from off of the wall and stepping in between you and Chrissy. “You’re makin’ my girlfriend upset, and you need to leave. Now.”

“No, none of this would be happening if she would have just heard Dylan out,” Chrissy argued and you turned away from her, hiding your face and your tears. She didn’t deserve them anymore. “He loves her, they were good together—”

“Shut up!” Jason ordered, and the command was so loud and so shocking that Chrissy backed away, eyes wide and appalled. Evidently, no one had ever told her to ‘shut up’ before in her entire life. “You have no right,” Jason continued lowly, his protective stance in front of you becoming even more rigid. “Absolutely no right to be here and say anythin’ to Y/n, ever again. You are not only a horrible friend but you are a horrible person. You brought a man back into her life who abused her—who almost killed her, twice—and that’s not even mentionin’ all of the shitty stuff you’ve done just since I’ve been with Y/n! No, you are the worst person I have ever met, and I refuse to let you put Y/n in any more danger. Get out, and don’t came back! I mean it!”

Chrissy looked close to tears, but she didn’t say anything to Jason. Instead, she peered around him and stared at you, her blue eyes filled with unshed tears as she said, “Seriously, Y/n? Are you seriously going to let this guy that you’ve barely known for a few months talk to me, your best friend, this way?!”

Your heart hurt—it hurt, it hurt so fucking bad—but none of this was your fault and you could finally see that. 

You said nothing. 

Chrissy scoffed, backing away from both you and Jason, shaking her head. Suddenly, her sad, betrayed look turned into a fierce, dangerous look of anger. One you’d seen her wear before to people she truly hated, people whose lives she made miserable. 

Suddenly, you were terrified. Of her. Of whatyou knew that she could do and say about you. 

“You’re going to wish you never let him say those awful things to me,” Chrissy warned lowly, halfway out the front door now. “Because I’m going to ruin you, Y/n. You’ll have nothing. You might want to start looking at switching schools now because I promise you—you will never get another show again. I’m going to destroy your fucking career, you nasty bitch!” 

And with that sweet farewell, Chrissy left with the slam of your front door, leaving you breathless and petrified. She didn’t even give you the pleasure of having the last word. 

You were shaking, and you leaned against the wall for support, every single thing Chrissy could do to you running through your mind. She would probably spread lies about you on campus, get you kicked out of the theatre program, make sure you could never get a spot again. But could it really be that easy for her? And was there anything that you could do? Could you—could you get the jump on her? Call the police? Could the police even do anything about this?

Fuck, you were spiraling now, and you didn’t even know what you could do about it. You didn’t have the necessary tools to deal with this and you didn’t even know how to deal with this right now, after everything that had happened. Your mental space was ridiculously fragile after the past week, and you really weren’t sure that it could handle another hit. Not right now. 

“Y/n, are you—are you alright?” Jason had come up behind you comfortingly and you whirled around on him, vibrating with anxiety, your eyes shaky and afraid.

“Why would you say those things to her?” You questioned, your words coming out far more angry than you’d intended for them to. Jason looked taken aback and he shook his head, gesturing vaguely towards you and the closed door, as if he were confused about your reaction to the situation. 

“Are you seriously mad at me, right now?!” Jason shot back at you, shaking his head when you failed to respond. “‘Why did I say those things’—fuck, well they’re fuckin’ true, aren’t they?” 

“It doesn’t matter if they’re true,” you argued, grasping onto the hem of his shirt for comfort anyways. “She was my only friend!” 

“Yeah, well, with friends like hers, you don’t need any fuckin’ enemies!” Jason responded and you shook your head, knowing he was right, but somehow still unable to calm yourself down enough to speak some sense.

“Nice, Jason, how cliche of you,” you replied instead, knowing that you were the one being immature and crazy right now, but unaware of how to stop yourself from panicking and spiraling even further. 

“I really have no fuckin’ clue why you’re so pissed at me right now!” Jason continued, without any anger or malice, and only confusion. “Why are you pissed at me for standing up to somebody who literally tried to physically harm you?!” 

“I’m mad because Chrissy is entirely unpredictable, Jason!” You screeched, and you knew that at this point, you were only letting your panic get the best of you and that Jason had done nothing wrong. But you needed to get it out. You needed to scream, if only for five minutes. It was the one thing that you felt like you could control. “And that’s her when she isn’t pissed off, and now she is pissed off, so forgive me if I’m fucking terrified and now you made things even worse!” 

“I know you’re only lashin’ out cause you’re scared and you’re stressed,” Jason correctly analyzed, and the fact that he had you figured out so well only pissed you off even more. “It’s a damn good thing you’re cute when you’re angry.”

“Oh, you think I’m cute when I’m angry?!” You shrieked, chasing Jason into the kitchen and pulling his shirt so he looked back at you. He did, his face exasperated but slightly amused. “Well buckle up, Jason, because I’m about to get really fucking gorgeous!” 

“Give me a damn break, Y/n—you know what she did was wrong, and me comin’ to your rescue did you a favor,” Jason asserted and you huffed out angrily, knowing full well that he was right but still irked by the fact that he thought he should be some sort of savior for you right now. 

“For the love, Jason, you’re so ridiculously cocky!” You growled back at him, and you’d advanced on him so much that you had him pinned against your kitchen counter, both of your arms crowding him in as you clutched onto the counter with both hands on either side of him. 

“I’m not cocky!” Jason insisted. “I’m tryin’ to help you!” He was clearly a little bit irritated now, and he leaned his face down to level with yours. His eyes were wide and annoyed, but he was keeping his cool, knowing that you needed to lash out at him until your emotions levelled out. Letting you be mad at him, as irrational as it was, because he knew that you needed to yell at somebody right now. 

“Fuck—why, Jason?!” You screeched back, pushing off from the kitchen counter and throwing your hands up above your headin exasperation. “Why do you even care? Why do you stand up to my mom, and to Chrissy, and fight my battles and try to protect me like I’m just some—” 

“BECAUSE I’M FUCKIN’ IN LOVE WITH YOU, Y/N!” 

Your body froze mid-fight, mid-argument, and your mouth dropped wide open as you stared back at your…your…

What? 

You couldn’t believe what you’d just heard, what Jason had just said. And the weirdest part was—he’d meant it. You could see it in his eyes, right now, the adoration he was looking at you with—the small, relieved smile that was beginning to form on his face as he pushed himself off of the kitchen counter, walking towards you confidently.

“I—” You couldn’t seem to form any other words through how hard your heart was pounding right now, couldn’t seem to think past the storm of conflicting emotions bubbling inside of your chest. “Sorry—what?”

“Yeah, you heard me,” Jason responded optimistically, as if it were as easy to him as breathing. “I’m in love with you. I love you.” And then, without a second thought, he’d grabbed you by the waist and pulled you tightly into him, his lips covering yours anxiously—like he’d been waiting to do just that for months.

Unbeknownst to you, he had.

You responded in kind, reaching up to wind your fingers in his hair and hold his head close to yours, begging every deity that you could think of that he wouldn’t change his mind and pull away. That this was real, that this was happening. 

Your fears were unfounded, because Jason instantly shoved your body up against the wall, his hands that were previously planted on your waist moving their way up your body, one inching underneath your hoodie and your tank top, caressing the skin tenderly underneath, whilst the other planted itself to the back of your head as he kissed you harder. You responded instantly by lifting your leg, hooking it around his hips as you shoved pelvis against pelvis, relishing in the moan that Jason let out into your mouth via his kisses. 

He changed directions, his hand that was caressing your stomach quickly falling down to your ass, gripping it tightly in the palm of his hand as he felt it up. The action felt so damn good that you whimpered into his mouth and he smirked, using the opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth eagerly and you followed suit, the two of you locked in a battle for dominance. You used your leverage to hop up, winding both legs around his waist and Jason quickly caught you, wrapping his arms around your bottom and tilting his head to deepen your kiss.

Your feelings for him were at an all time high, and you could no longer deny how you felt about him. Why should you? He had told you he loved you, and what was stopping the two of you from doing whatever the fuck you wanted now? Heaven knows you loved hi—

A large, loud crash emanating from your bedroom is what ultimately broke the two of you apart, both of you staring at each other with wide, terrified eyes. You slipped out of Jason’s hold and grasped onto his hand as you both looked warily down at the room.

“Fuck,” you whispered, and you were shaking again, but Jason’s grip held you tight, making you feel safe. “Do you think it’s—”

“No, that bastard would be a motherfuckin’ idiot to come back here,” Jason reassured you and you nodded, clutching tightly to his hand as the two of you walked slowly back to the bedroom. It was a relatively small apartment, so only a couple of more steps would get you to the bedroom, but Jason still looked back at you, gesturing for you to stay quiet. You nodded again and the two of you rounded the corner, peering into the seemingly empty room. 

There was a mess in the middle of it now; your trophies and books scattered onto the floor as something had, apparently, collided with your bookshelf. It wasn’t until your eyes wandered down to the floor that you saw him sitting there—brown eyes wide and confused, clad in his military uniform, his signature bucket hat fixed to his head. You gasped, recognizing him instantly, and turned back to Jason—who adorned the same look you were sure was also atop your own face.

“Nicky?”

YOU were waking up in Jason’s bed, again.

And not in the fun way.

You groaned as you rolled over, off of Jason’s arm that was underneath your neck. You sat up, staring down at Jason—whose eyes were already looking up at you, and you returned his gaze with a soft smile on your face. He sat up, too, and you noticed that his eyes were bloodshot—like he hadn’t slept all night long.

He probably hadn’t; every time you ended up here in his bed, he stayed up all night to make sure you were alright. And it seemed to be happening more and more often these days—the nightmares, that is—and then you ended up taking the elevator up the five floors to the boy’s apartment, staring at their front door as you took a deep breath and gathered up the courage to dial Jason’s number.

Not like it was hard; you had it memorized, and even if you didn’t, he was your emergency contact. No, that wasn’t the hard part; the hard part was knowing that he’d answer midway through the very first ring, his voice sleepy but frantic as he made sure that you were alright, before asking if you were at the door and needed to come in—even though he already knew that you were. The hard part was knowing that he did all of this—that he always let you in, that he always held you and made the nightmares go away, staying awake to keep watch over you all night long—yes, the hard part was watching him care for you whilst knowing with every fiber of your being that he would never love you.

Not in the way that you loved him. 

He’d been treating you like his little sister since you’d met him on your first day at base in Iraq—three years ago, now. You’d walked through the doors of Camp Slayer with nothing but an anxious look on your face and in your eyes; earning you the nickname that Jason still used to this day. Panic Attack.

“Hey, what’s the matter with you? You’re lookin’ a little jumpy darlin’,” he’d chuckled, leaning against the pillars once you’d entered the hall. He hadn’t been First Lieutenant, then—he’d earn that title a short three months later—and he walked over to you, cocking an eyebrow as he stared down at your anxiety-ridden face. “Y’alright there, princess? Ain’t ever been to war before?”

You snarled at that, your anxiety melting away as you turned your anger onto him. 

“Don’t call me princess,” you’d threatened, tilting your chin up defiantly, although your hands were still shaking. “And I’m plenty capable of doing anything that you can do.”

Jason had smiled brightly, his eyes gleaming at your words as he chuckled, shaking his head as he drew nearer to you. He shrugged, leaning his hand against the pillar right above your head as he leaned down over to you, nose-to-nose.

“Ain’t no doubt about that, Panic Attack,” he retorted, and although the nickname had made your blood boil at the time, it had quickly and pathetically become your favorite term of endearment. “Just makin’ note of how jumpy you are. You always like this?”

“No.” That had been a lie, and Jason had learned that rather quickly; anytime something new, noteworthy, or terrifying had come up, you panicked, becoming a blubbering mess of sweat, angst, and tears on the floor. Usually his floor, and so, ‘Panic Attack’ had stuck—but despite your enthralling woes of anxiety, even Jason couldn’t deny how badass you were in the throes of actual battle.

Jason’s little quips—his nicknames, his protectiveness over you, his way of seemingly always searching a room and finding you—had caught up to you, eventually. Everyone on base knew that you were his best friend, and that he was yours; but it had rapidly become more than that for you only a year after knowing him. And, in the two years that you’d been actively in love with him, he showed no signs that he felt anything for you beyond a friendship. Not even after what happened—a year ago. Down in those motherfucking caves…

You felt a shudder ripple through your body as you tore yourself out of past events and into the present where you were still safely sitting in Jason’s bed. At your visible discomfort, he sat up quickly too, eyes full of concern and quickly scanning over you for any injuries he may have missed before.

“Y/n? Y’alright there, darlin’?” You nodded, stretching out your arms above your head and noting the time on his alarm clock. 11:50 am; you blanched.

“Shit—is that the time?” You screeched, rushing out of bed and bursting out of the bedroom, hurrying to the bathroom—where you kept a stash of your own personal shower stuff, which was okay with Jason but a nuisance to his roommate and your mutual friend, Eric. “Oh, fuck me! My shift starts in thirty minutes, fuck!” 

“Whoa there Panic Attack, calm down,” Jason assured, rushing after you and beating you to the bathroom, blocking the door so that you couldn’t get in. “You’re not gonna be late to work. I’ll go grab the clothes from your apartment and then I’ll drive you over, alright? Crisis averted.” He booped you on the nose with his finger as he smirked and you pouted, allowing him to wrap his arms around your tiny frame as he pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back and resting his chin on the top of your head. 

You closed your eyes as you rested your ear against his heart, listening to his heartbeat and allowing it to steady you with a sigh. “No, you’re not,” you argued, pulling out of his embrace and pinching him in the ribs where you knew that he was sensitive, successfully jolting him away from the bathroom door. “You are going to go back to sleep, because you didn’t get any last night—and don’t lie and tell me that you did, because your eyes are bloodshot right now, Jase.”

Jason’s mouth rapidly opened and then closed again as he realized that it was futile to argue with you, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m fine, Y/n,” he insisted, but as soon as the words slipped out of his mouth, he yawned. His face turned red in a beautiful spread of blush across his cheeks and you held in a dreamy sigh at the sight, feeling pathetic enough already. “Alright, so—maybe I’m just a little bit tired. But I can still—”

“Save your breath, Lieutenant,” Eric’s voice floated into the room, and soon enough, you saw his form walk in from behind Jason, his blonde hair messed in some severe bedhead and wearing nothing but flannel pajama pants loosely tied around his waist. The sight did nothing to you—you only had eyes for Jason—but you noticed that Eric’s presence seemed to set Jason on edge. You didn’t know why; since Eric and Jason had teamed up down in the caves, they’d become a strange sort of friends. You couldn’t think of a single reason that Jason would be upset with him. “I’ll drive Y/n to work. Go back to bed.”

“That won’t be necessary, Colonel,” Jason responded through gritted teeth and you rolled your eyes; partly because of Jason’s stubbornness, and partly because the two men still refused to call each other anything but their previous ranks. And you’d all been honorably discharged from the military, permanently, a year ago. “Y/n and I have a routine—”

“Yeah, yeah, but I’m her friend too,” Eric interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I can drive just as well as you can, Lieutenant. Better, probably, seeing as you got maybe one hour of sleep last night. Are you willing to risk Y/n’s life just because you want to drive her to work?”

“Fuckin’ dammit Colonel, I ain’t riskin’ her life—and can’t you put on a fuckin’ shirt or somethin’?!”

“Guys, shut up,” you interrupted, pressing two fingers to your temples and shaking your head. “You two are being ridiculous; Jason, Eric will drive me to work.”

“What? No—!”

  “You need to sleep, and I’ll come over straight after,” You continued speaking, shooting your favorite man a glare. “Okay? We can watch a movie tonight, and then I’ll go sleep in my own bed so you can not be a walking zombie at work. Alright?” 

Jason grumbled something that sounded like a forced agreement, but his second yawn interrupted whatever tirade he was about to go on. Pressing a small kiss to his cheek—not uncommon for the two of you, platonically—you beckoned him to his bed and then hurriedly hopped into the shower. 

You allowed the scorching hot water to heal your anxieties for far too long than you should have, considering the fact that you were already running late for work today. When you finally did get out of the shower, you took a minute to stare at your reflection in the mirror. 

The bags that always seemed to linger under your eyes were the first thing that you saw and, just like it always did, it made you wince; it had been a year ago yesterday since you’d all fallen down those fucking caves and you were still having nightmares every single night.

Most nights you could deal with it on your own; you would simply stay up, watch a happy movie and chow down on some popcorn and drink chamomile tea, trying to will a peaceful sleep  back into your life (to no avail). Usually, those nights were the milder nightmares; the raid, falling down the caves for the first time, escaping Dar—the things that you’d felt hope in.

The nights that you couldn’t handle it yourself—the nights that had you outside of Jason’s apartment, begging to be let in—those were the heavy stuff. Jason, getting dragged down a hallway by a vampire; Jason, going after Salim and leaving you behind—Jason, pleading for your life once he’d found out you were infected by one of them, only mere hours after he’d ruthlessly shot Clarice—

That one. Fuck, that one always got to you the most and you always found yourself wondering why he’d done it. Why did he plead for your life? The two of you were close, yes, you had been each other’s right hands at this point but—why was he okay with taking the risk with you and not with Clarice? Why was he willing to risk not only his life, but the life of the team for you—and not for Clarice?

You’d never asked him because, frankly, you were terrified of the answer. You wondered if he regretted it at all; clearly you were here, and you were fine, but it was not without side effects. The nightmares, for one thing; and he dealt with that directly. Every time you ended up in his bed, in his arms, desperately seeking the comfort that only he could seem to bring you, he didn’t sleep. His sleep habits were as shitty as yours were now, and he was doing it all for you. Because he knew that you needed him.

But you knew that one day, he would meet somebody else who would need him. And he would love her, and he would choose her over you, because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you love somebody. And you would be left behind in the dust, never sleeping, holding yourself together through every nightmare and wishing that you were her.

Not because you needed Jason to face the nightmares, no; but because you loved him. Why wouldn’t you love him? There was literally nothing about him that you couldn’t love. Jason was loyal, he was kind, he was funny, he was sexy, he was caring, he was—everything. 

Fuck, he was your everything.

With a groan, you threw your towel at your reflection, noticing that Jason had wandered in at some point and hung your work clothes on the back of the door where you’d originally gotten your towel. Since you spent a decent amount of nights here, you had a designated towel and a place to hang your towel, and you never bothered to lock the door when you were in the shower. Neither boy really had much company—except for Eric’s new girlfriend, Shanae—and you knew that neither one of them would ever walk in on you intentionally. Eric had adopted you as a sister of sorts, and Jason—well, you knew where you stood with him. 

You hurriedly got dressed in your black shirt and black dress pants, your bright orange apron with the company’s logo stretched across it coming next. You put your hair back in your favorite way to look cute and keep it out of your face, throwing on a tiny bit of mascara and lip gloss that you’d kept stashed in the boy’s bathroom for exactly this occasion.

You cracked open the door to the bathroom to find Eric fully dressed, sitting on the couch and waiting for you with a book in his hands. When he saw you, he smiled, closing his book and walking over to ruffle your hair.

“Hey!” You protested, pulling away with a pout and shoving him away. “I just did that, you asshole!” Eric chuckled lightly, tossing a look towards Jason’s bedroom door, which was left open. The man himself was passed out haphazardly across his bed over the tossed covers, his eyes shut tight and mouth open as he slept. You smiled at the sight, wishing you could crawl back into bed and hold him while he slept—knowing that you couldn’t now, and that you probably couldn’t ever. 

You swallowed a gulp, following Eric out of the building and to his car with just the slightest twinge of sadness, a feeling that you knew all too well. You felt it every time you left Jason’s bed, and every time, you promised that you’d stop doing this to yourself. Stop putting yourself in this situation, stop allowing yourself to be hurt over and over with your own motherfucking idiocy.

“So,” Eric’s voice cut through your thoughts, holding the passenger door open for you and helping you in. When he rounded to the other side of the car, he continued his thought. “The silence here is very telling, Private.”

“Oh my g—just call me by my name already Eric,” you groaned, laying your head on the window and shutting your eyes against your impending headache. “I haven’t been a Marine in a year, and you haven’t been in the Air Force either. Don’t you think it’s about time to let it go?”

“Maybe,” Eric replied with a nonchalant air to his words, and you were certain that if you were looking at him he would have shrugged. “Y/n, I like to think we have a close relationship, so I’m just going to get straight to the point. You need to tell Jason how you feel about him.”

Your heart stopped—your head was spinning, and you suddenly felt like throwing up. Your eyes opened just as quickly as they’d been shut and you whipped your head over to Eric, whose face was conflictingly blank in opposition with his words. 

“How did you—I mean I—I don’t—”

“Y/n, this conversation will be a whole lot easier if you don’t deny that you’re in love with him,” Eric interrupted, turning over to you quickly and quirking an eyebrow. You opened your mouth to protest again, before realizing that it was useless. He could see right through you—as you assumed most everyone could.

“I can’t tell him,” you said instead, pulling your eyes away from Eric and out of your window instead, watching the cars on the freeway zipping by. “He doesn’t—he doesn’t feel the same way. And besides, what’s wrong with the way that things are now, anyway? Why do I have to tell him? We’re both happy with the way that things are.”

Eric was sullen and quiet, not unusually for him, and finally, after several minutes, he sighed heavily.

“I can’t tell you what Jason feels,” Eric spoke, his words sounding clear and calculated. “I don’t know exactly where he stands, Y/n. But I do know that what he feels for you is something deeper than a simple friendship, and I think you know it, too. Who does all that he does for someone that they only see as a friend?”

“But—”

 “Either way, even if he doesn’t feel the same way about you, you need to know, Y/n,” Eric continued, shooting you a sharp glare, as if you’d just interrupted someone with a higher rank than you—like you were both back in the military. “I just think that if you keep on going like this, you’re only going to get your heart broken. Wouldn’t you rather know and not continue to waste your time if he doesn’t love you back?”

“No,” you answered immediately, clicking your seatbelt and watching the strap snap away in front of you as it came undone, staring at the coffee shop in front of you. The same damn place you hadn’t seemed to be able to break away from for a year. “No, I wouldn’t rather ‘quit wasting my time’, Eric; I’d rather have Jason in any way that I can. Even if it’s just as a friend. Even if it actually fucking kills me.”

“Y/n,” Eric demanded, grabbing your hand, his brown eyes wide and incredulous. “You’re scaring me; between this self-destructive behavior with Jason, and your nightmares, and you’ve been losing weight—I’m worried about you; we’re all worried about you. Me, Shanae, I even talked to fucking Nick and you know how much I hate that pri—”

“Well you know what?” You snapped, retracting your hand harshly out of his grip. “All of you should just stop worrying, okay? I have everything under control. I may be younger than you, Eric, but I am still an adult, alright? I can control myself, and I know what I’m doing—okay? So just—just—just stop!”

You exited the car without another word, slamming the door behind you and wiping tears away from your eyes as you hurried into the coffee shop.

Fuck this day.

🌒

The day went by so slowly that time felt like it was literally dragging you behind it. You couldn’t stop thinking about your conversation with Eric, or the way that Jason had looked this morning when you left; exhausted. Utterly, and completely exhausted. And you couldn’t help but think, maybe he wasn’t just exhausted from lack of sleep, but maybe he was truly getting tired of you needing him all the time. Maybe Jason was finally hitting his limit.

You put on a brave face and a smile whilst at work, but inside you were crying out for help. You knew that Eric was right; you hadn’t been taking proper care of yourself, and you were dragging Jason down with you.

You knew that Jason didn’t have work today—he worked as a paramedic, and you didn’t want to talk about how fucking hot that was—and you found yourself absentmindedly wondering what he’d be doing instead. Would he go to your favorite bar? Would he meet a girl there? And, more importantly, had he met a girl there before?

You groaned again, hanging your apron up behind the counter so you didn’t accidentally take it home again. You hurried out of the shop after you’d clocked out, unwinding your hair from its tie and letting it run free. Your eyes brightened when you saw Jason’s large, white pickup truck sitting in the parking lot, the man himself leaning against the back of his seat and listening to something country and way too loud. 

You grinned, thankful that he’d come to pick you up instead of Eric, and hurried over to the passenger-side door, throwing it open and throwing yourself inside. Jason jumped, obviously not having seen you exit the building, but he smiled widely when he caught sight of you.

“Hey,” Jason greeted, reaching out to gently stroke a strand of hair and causing a murmur in your fucking heartbeat. “How was your day darlin’? Not too busy?”

“Pretty standard,” you sighed, smiling fondly at Jason’s soft face when he looked away to pull out of the parking lot. You found yourself staring at him and not out of the window like you had this morning with Eric, and you swallowed down a dreamy sigh at just how perfectly beautiful the man was. “How was yours? Did you get some rest?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Yes, I did, but you know that I wouldn’t have minded drivin’ you to work, right? I never mind, Y/n. Gives me some extra time with you.”

His words made you flush, and a shiver ran down your spine; you often wondered how Jason could say things like this and not feel anything for you other than a basic friendship. You wondered if he knew what he was doing to you, or if he was, hopefully, more oblivious than the rest of your friends. 

“You needed the rest,” you insisted, licking your thumb and wiping a stray coffee stain off of his chin. He flushed, but he let you do it, not even stiffening at the touch of your hand. “Eric driving me just once didn’t hurt anything, Jason. Besides, he’s my friend too.”

“Yeah, but it’s different,” Jason argued, his chin hardset and defiant. You raised an eyebrow, a little scoff leaving your mouth at the man’s stubbornness—which, you had to admit, was very in character for him. 

“How is it different, Jason?” You responded, arms crossed over your chest as you demanded an answer. “Because I haven’t known him as long? That doesn’t mean anything, Jason.”

“The hell it doesn’t!” Jason pushed, eyes wide and incredulous as he looked back at you for just a split second before turning his attention back to the road. “Besides, it ain’t just that, Y/n. You spend more time with me, we’re…better friends.”

“Jason, he drove me to work,” you chuckled, unsure of why Jason was so jealous of Eric driving you to work, once. “It’s not like we did movie night without you, or went to our favorite bar or something. You know I only do those things with you.” And you know I’d continue to only want to do those things with you, too. Because I fucking love you, you dipshit.

“But you chose him to drive you to work, over me.” 

You rolled your eyes; for somebody who didn’t feel anything for you, he certainly got insanely jealous and protective over you to the point that you wondered if you were the oblivious one. 

“Jason—trust me when I say I would have preferred you to drive me to work, okay? I chose Eric because you spent the entire night watching over me instead of sleeping,” you explained, working your way out of your seatbelt and worming your arm through his, resting your head on his shoulder. “You’re still my favorite person in the whole world, rest assured.” 

You took a peek up at Jason’s face, noticing a small smile was pulling at the corner of his lips. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes once more, extending your legs and resting them on his lap as he parked in his favorite parking spot in your complex. Jason shut off his truck and turned to you, chuckling when you unbuckled his belt for him and cuddled you into his side, the two of you delaying the walk upstairs by staying in the truck for a beat too long.

“Did he at least put on a fuckin’ shirt when he drove you?” Jason asked and you laughed out loud, shaking your head in incredulity.

“Obviously, Jason, rest assured Eric was wearing a shirt when he went out in public.” Jason didn’t respond, and you felt your eyes fluttering shut as he stroked your ribs with his fingers absentmindedly, your head under his and you struggling with the urge to reach up and kiss him. 

“Nick’s comin’ into town tomorrow,” Jason informed you, and you perked up, lifting your head to look at his face. 

“Really?!” You asked excitedly. “Kay’s coming to visit? Why the fuck didn’t he tell me?” Jason avoided your gaze and you frowned; something was going on here.

“Rachel’s comin’, too,” Jason announced and your heart fell in disappointment. You’d known that Nick and Rachel had started dating again, but you never realized that he would want to bring her here. Not with you and Eric both living here. 

Suddenly, and without your consent, your brain was assuaged with nightmares—memories, actually, and you felt the sudden urge to throw up the nothing that you’d eaten today.

“...What happened? A sickness? A madness?”

It had certainly felt like you were sick—that you were going mad, as well. Your head was ringing, and it burned, like somebody was burning your brain from the inside out. You felt nauseous like you’d never felt before—like there was something moving inside of you that you needed to get out, desperately. Like, suddenly, you were no longer in control.

Salim was still speaking, you thought, but you could no longer hear words—just the hum of his voice turning into a strange, twisted melody inside of your head. The realization had dawned on you at that moment, you remember, what was happening to you. You’d been bitten during the assault, but you didn’t think anything of it. Now, though, you knew better, and you were anxiously watching the white phosphorous that was on the table. 

“They waited for us.”

You couldn’t take it anymore; the pain, the feeling of something moving around and invading your body, the fucking burning. You felt a scream rip through your throat and you had fallen to your knees, your hands clutching the white phosphorous that you hadn’t even realized you’d grabbed. 

“Shit!” You heard Nick exclaim, and Jason rushed towards you—only to be held back by Eric.

“Don’t,” he commanded, and you remember his face, a deathly, pale white. “She’s holding…she has…” 

He couldn’t even finish his sentence but you saw Jason’s face pale and you knew that he’d seen the phosphorous then. You knew that he knew what was going to happen; you were going to kill yourself, to save them. To save him. You were going to lose each other to this. 

You were hyperventilating, you thought, and you could hear Jason desperately calling out your name, sounding terrified and despairing. Nick, who had been your friend for some time now, too, knelt in front of you cautiously, likely knowing that Jason was too hysterical to be trusted.

“Y/n, look at me,” Nick prompted and you did, your eyes teary, wide, and frenzied. You were writhing, your hands clutching at your head and you heard your pathetic shrieks and moans as you felt it moving inside of you, eating you from the inside out. 

Jason had broken free of Eric’s grip and pushed Nick aside, careful not to get too close on the off chance that he accidentally set off the phosphorus. His face was terrified and hysterical, and his eyes pleaded with you to keep looking at him—so you did.

Even back then, you loved him. No one else had quite the pull on you that he did.

“Y/n, please listen to me,” Jason begged, his Southern voice deep and desperate. “Please don’t do this, I—I know you’re scared, but I’m gonna get us out of this, I fuckin’ promise you, okay? Please, I know it seems impossible right now, but just—”

“Jason,” Nick interrupted, as soon as he’d realized that Jason didn’t know. He hadn’t figured out what was going on yet. “Jason, listen—”

“She has it,” Salim interrupted, and you remembered how he’d looked down at you with such horror in his face, and pity in his eyes. “It’s inside her.”

“What?” Jason questioned, shaking his head wildly. “No, what the fuck are you—”

“She’s fucking infected, Kolchek!” Rachel had hissed at him, grabbing him by the shoulder and shoving him away from you. “One of those things bit her, and now she’s turning into one of them; just like Clarice!” 

You watched as Jason’s eyes widened and his normally tan face turned a sickly pale, his eyes never once leaving yours. If you thought about it hard enough, you could imagine that he was thinking of poor Clarice—of what had happened to her, just hours before—and how he’d shot her mercilessly without a second thought. Because he couldn’t take the chance; he needed to save everybody else, and she had become a liability. An unknown. And we couldn’t have that.

Looking into his eyes, you knew he’d do the same to you now.

You knew he had to.

And that’s when the vision started.

A burning spaceship, with the head of a monster, heading straight towards Earth as it burned slowly. Aliens; they’d come from another world. 

You didn’t even spare another thought or breath on that as you settled the phosphorous between your knees, tears streaming down your face, and brandished your pocket knife. You didn’t have a choice; you couldn’t let Jason kill you. You couldn’t bear to let him live with that trauma. 

You had to do this yourself. 

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, looking straight at Jason—who was trying to rush you, but being held back by Salim and Eric, not without a fight. 

You wanted to tell him you loved him then, but you didn’t; you knew that would only be cruel to him. Instead, you tore your eyes away from his face and stared down at the phosphorous, the knife in hand, ready to blow yourself up.

But you didn’t; you couldn’t. Your hand just wouldn’t fucking move, despite what your brain was telling it to do. 

Your knife clattered to the floor and you sobbed, breathing in and out as you attempted to steady yourself. Jason was released and he hastily ran and picked up your knife, pocketing it and taking the phosphourous from your hands in the event that you tried that again.

You wanted to reach out and touch him—a hug, a brush of the hand, anything—but it was at that moment that the burning started up again. You doubled over and wailed, Jason right by your side as he pushed your hair back from your face and held you, tears streaming down his own face, his own breath coming in pants as he panicked. 

You were likely going to die—you knew that—so you turned to Jason as Nick held up your other side, both men frantic. 

“They came from the stars,” you spoke, staring straight into Jason’s frightened eyes, hoping that he was listening to every word that you were saying. “This isn’t their home; it’s an ark.” 

You suddenly began to buck viciously, and you weren’t sure if it was you or the thing inside of you controlling your body. All you knew was that it hurt, and you needed to go. You just needed to go. 

“Do something!” Nick turned and looked at Jason, the dubbed leader of the group. “She’s turning into one of them!”

“Hold on, baby girl, you have to hold on!” Jason pleaded, his deep voice husky and maniacal. “Please, Y/n—hold on for me. Hold on for me!”

“It’s…killing…me,” you managed to croak out, attempting to inform Jason of the severity of the situation. They had to act now,and they had to act fast—because if they didn’t, you were going to be one of them and put them all in danger.

You should’ve used the phosphorous.

“Jason, put her out of her fucking misery!” Rachel screamed at him, trying to pull him away from you but he wouldn’t budge, his teeth gritted and tears streaming down his face. “Fuck, Kolchek; I’ll do it!” 

“We can still save her!” Nick insisted, and Jason whipped around towards Rachel, his body taking a protective stance over you. 

“There’s got to be a way,” Jason growled at her, his arms grasping you and putting himself in front of Rachel’s gun. “I can’t lose her!” 

His voice had sounded so terrified, so distraught—and you wondered why he hadn’t reacted this way with Clarice. Why he was so okay with letting you live when he’d been so adamant that Clarice needed to die. 

“You should know better than anyone that there is no other way, Kolchek,” Rachel barked back angrily. She moved her gun, past Jason, aiming it right towards your head. “Nick, hold her down.”

“No!” Jason argued, throwing himself back in between you and the barrel of the gun. “No, there ain’t no way we’re shootin’ her!” 

“‘It’s time to think like a Marine, Jason!’” Rachel snarled back at him, her voice unusually tight and shrill. “You need to take your emotions out of it—isn’t that what you said to me about Clarice?! When you fucking shot her?!!” 

“Fuck you, this is different!” Jason’s voice was high, tight, and emotional. All of a sudden, you felt purpose. Hope. You weren’t sure if it was the way that Jason was so protective of you, or that the prospect of losing you made him so emotional, but suddenly, you wanted to live. You didn’t want to die—not like this. Not today. 

“Rachel,” you managed to croak out, and the vision behind your eyes was beginning to get blurry. “Don’t…do it. Please; don’t kill me…please.”

Rachel’s eyes wavered over to you for a second—just the splittest of seconds—but you could see the indecision behind her eyes. 

“I have to,” she insisted, but her voice was cracking under her emotions. “You know that I have to.”

“It’s me, Rachel,” You continued to plead, pushing up past Jason and staring into her amber eyes, pleading for your life. “Please…put down the gun.”

It was at that moment that Jason hopped up, not as certain about Rachel’s humanity as you were, and knocked the gun out of her hands. He pushed her back, holding the gun to her instead, as he ordered her aside.

“Step aside,” he commanded, and she did, shaking her head incredulously. “Step the fuck aside and get the hell away from her!”

“You’re insane,” Rachel told him with a hiss. “She’s going to kill us all, and you’re going to regret this.”

“Salim, watch Rachel,” Jason ordered, and the man did, standing between her and you as Jason turned back to you, hope, caring, and compassion in his teary eyes. “Y/n, sweetheart, I’m gonna find a way to save you. Alright?”

“Why?” You’d questioned, wrapping your arms around Jason’s neck as you held on tightly to the man who had become your literal lifeline. “Why save me, Jason? Why not her and why—why me?”

Jason’s adam’s apple had bobbed as he stared down into your eyes, his own eyes full of—emotion, of some sort, although you were having a hard time making it out. He pressed a hard, clinging kiss to your forehead and as he pulled away, he said, “Because we’ve got to have hope.”

For some reason, you had the feeling that he’d wanted to say something else. 

He’d tried to carry you to the cocoons that Salim had suggested, but you didn’t get far enough; you writhed out of his arms, and Eric had suddenly remembered the UV light—you still remembered how awfully intense the heat had felt held up to your body—and he burned you, until the parasite exited through your mouth and you were cured. 

This fact had been confirmed by supernatural health professionals after you’d all made it out of the caves; you were not infected anymore, and nothing was wrong with you. 

What Eric had done had worked, and Jason and Nick were right. You could be saved, after all.

Rachel had never gotten over the fact that you had survived while Clarice did not; and you hadn’t really gotten over her nearly killing you down in those caves. When it was all said and done, she’d left Eric and reconnected with Nick, the two of them beginning an official relationship. Suffice to say, Eric wasn’t exactly her biggest fan either.

“Y/n?” Jason’s voice cut through your thoughts, destroying the memory that haunted your dreams. “Y’alright in there? Where’d you go?” 

“Sorry,” you rushed out, shaking your head and steadying your breathing. “Um, Rachel’s coming? Well, just tell Nick that if he wants to see me, that maybe we should do it—”

“Actually, they’re comin’ to go to dinner tomorrow night with Eric and Shanae,” Jason interrupted, and it was clear that whatever he wanted to say, that he wanted to get it over with. He never cut you off when you were talking. “And Eric wants me to go to be a sort of a buffer between the two couples and—fuck, Y/n, I know that this is sort of a hard ask, but—will you come with me? I can’t fuckin’ stand the thought of bein’ a fuckin’ fifth wheel between those three idiots.”

You perked up at the question; did you want to go have a dinner with Rachel of all people, and be the buffer between two bitterly divorced people and the man she’d had an affair with? No, not really, but you also couldn’t let go of the fact that Jason was essentially asking you to be his date for the night. 

Emboldened by some newfound courage, you cleared your throat and asked, “Like, um, like as your date?” You looked up at his face and saw the shock that registered there, immediately feeling the anxiety flood your system as you realized that you’d completely misinterpreted the situation. 

“What?!” Jason questioned, and you could hear the confusion in his voice. When he scoffed like what you’d said was ridiculous, your heart broke again. “No, Y/n that’s—no. We’re just friends, we’d, just be going as—friends. It ain’t anythin’ else, Y/n, why would you think that?”

“No—no reason.” Fuck, you could hear the tears getting choked up in your throat. “You know, Jase? I’m actually not feeling so well, so I think I’m going to head on to bed. Can we do movie night a different night?” Jason opened his mouth to answer, but you didn’t give him the opportunity. “I’ll see you tomorrow night. Text me the address and I’ll meet you there, okay?”

“That’s ridiculous Y/n, I can drive you—” 

“No, don’t worry about it, I’ll meet you there,” you insisted sternly. Pulling yourself away from his hold, you hopped out of the truck and hurried upstairs, praying to every God you could think of that he hadn’t seen the tears streaming down your face when you’d left. 

You couldn’t believe yourself; why had you fucking said that?! How stupid were you? Of course, it wasn’t a date—Jason didn’t think of you that way.

It woud never be a date.

🌒

JASON had no idea what the fuck he had done to piss you off last night, but here he was the next morning, trying to puzzle it over. He was no idiot, but he really couldn’t figure this one out; you’d seemed to get jumpy after he’d mentioned Rachel, but you’d left once he’d reassured you that this wasn’t a date.

Had you wanted it to be a date? No, that was almost laughable; you didn’t think of him that way. You’d never been into him that way, and it wasn’t a line that the two of you ever even thought about crossing. Still, you’d never made a comment like that before, and he’d wondered just what he’d done to make you worried that he was hitting on you. He never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable by forcin’ you into somethin’ more, but clearly, he had come across that way.

Fuck.

His only hope was that you’d stormed off because of the mention of Rachel, but he knew that it didn’t fit within the context of the conversation, so he was left hopin’and wonderin’ if you would still show up tonight—if you were gonna feel awkward around him, thinkin’ that he wanted to be more than friends with you. 

And he didn’t want anythin’ more; at least, he thought he didn’t. He genuinely liked where your relationship was at now, he loved havin’ you as his best and closest friend—even if sometimes, he got the urge to kiss you when you were bein’ cute and you didn’t even know it. Or if he’d almost told you on more than one occasion how fuckin’ beautiful you were—or, if he sometimes wanted to throw you onto his damn bed and show you just how well he could really treat you if you just gave him the fucking chance—

Fuck, no, he reminded himself, shaking his head and pulling on his dressier clothes for the night. That wasn’t a line that the two of you ever crossed, and he wasn’t about to start thinkin’ about it tonight. He valued you, he valued your friendship, and he wasn’t about to throw that away just ‘cause he sometimes wondered how it would feel to have sex with you. Just ‘cause sometimes he wanted to. 

Jason reached for his phone to call you, confirm that you really didn’t want him to drive you over with him, but you didn’t answer. After a string of curse words, he just pocketed the damn thing with a sigh, headin’ to his truck alone with his own anxieties. 

It took less than ten minutes to get to the restaurant, and he found Eric and Shanae waiting outside for him, both of them looking too visibly tense to go in by themselves. Jason rolled his eyes and waved at them, trying not to laugh at their collective sighs of relief when they saw him approaching. 

“Hey guys,” Jason greeted, clapping Eric on the shoulder and giving Shanae a small sidehug. “Y’all seen Y/n yet tonight?” 

Eric and Shanae shared a look of confusion that made Jason’s heart drop into his stomach; had she said something to them? Was she no longer comin’?

“We assumed she’d be riding with you,” was the only thing that Eric said in reply and Jason frowned, shaking his head.

“No, she—she said she wanted to drive herself tonight,” Jason reiterated, still feeling the same stab of hurt that he’d felt last night when you’d said it. He shook it off, just like he always did, and headed inside with Eric and Shanae, who seemed anxious to get this night over with. Jason couldn’t blame her; she was meeting her boyfriend’s ex-wife, who he had a long and complicated history with. 

Eric had just recently told Shanae about a year ago in Iraq and, miraculously, she believed him. Jason hadn’t asked for details on how or why, but figured he must have met some miracle woman who didn’t question the insane too much. Salim had recently gotten remarried—they’d all flown out to Iraq for that, minus Rachel—and even he hadn’t spoken about the incident to his new wife. 

“Jason!” Nick’s voice boomed throughout the restaurant and Jason grinned at his buddy, hurrying over and giving him their version of a bro-hug. If you’d been here yet, you would have laughed and made fun of them, like you’d done so many times before. “Oh man, it’s been too long, buddy. How the hell are you?”

“Yeah, ‘bout a year since we’ve seen you in person,” Jason reiterated, trying not to think about the state they were all in a year ago. “Been good. Busy workin’, mannin’ that EMT shit. You know how it is.”

“Yeah, and then the rest of his free time is spent with you-know-who,” Eric interrupted with a roll of his eyes, and it was clear to Jason that talking about you and him was going to be the way they chose to get through this little dinner party. “He’s probably with Y/n more than he’s at work, don’t let him lie to you.”

“Ah, well that doesn’t surprise me,” Nick laughed, and they all sat at a nearby table, leaving an open seat next to Jason for you, whenever you decided you were going to show up. “Those two were glued to the hip since the moment Panic Attack arrived on base.”

“Speaking of the devil,” Shanae whispered, gesturing softly to the front door of the restaurant. Jason looked up—half-wishing he hadn’t, honestly—because when he saw you, his heart stopped.

He’d seen you dressed up before, but not quite like this; a tight, black dress was fitted over your body, barely compressing your curves and leaving little to the imagination. It was made of leather—and fuck he didn’t even know that he liked leather, but after seein’ you in that motherfuckin’ dress, it was clear that he did.

 You’d curled your hair in the way that he’d always loved, and adorned your eyes with makeup that made the color of yor eyes vibrant, making Jason feel slightly weak in the knees. As you approached, he stood from his chair like the perfect gentleman, a smile on his face as he pulled your chair out for you and you sat down with a measly sigh.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t our little Panic,” Nick teased and Jason noticed how your glare towards him was fake, seeing the glint in your eyes at the familiarity of Nick’s use of the nickname. You rolled your eyes at him but you smiled when he came over to your side of the table and gave you a hug. Jason noticed that you were watching Rachel warily, but it seemed like Rachel didn’t notice, as her eyes were currently glued to her ex-husband. 

“Kay,” you’d giggled, sending Nick a soft smile as he made his way to the other side of the table again. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Y/n, you look—wow,” Jason whispered as you turned over to him, a panicked, blanched look on your face as he said the words. Jason gulped, weighing the pros and cons, but ultimately decided to push his luck. “Seriously you—you’re stunning. You’re the most beautiful person here.”

There was a smooth, even blush fanning out across your cheeks but you only nodded your head in thanks, turning away from him awkwardly. The odd interaction only worried him more, and he began to panic as he wondered whether whatever he did was fixable, or if he were losing his best friend. 

You exchanged pleasantries with the rest of the group, and the night had seemed to be moving along smoothly; although Jason noticed that you seemed to be consuming more alcohol than dinner tonight. You were oddly quiet—usually, you were the life of the party, gluing everybody together—but you could barely answer a simple question tonight, and Jason could sense that something was seriously wrong. 

Eric, Rachel, and Nick seemed to be getting along well, although Jason could tell that everyone was far more interested in your mood and attuned to you, for how you were acting so strangely. Nick even kicked him under the table, gathering his attention, before he subtly gestured to Y/n and mouthed, “What’s wrong?!” Jason had just shaken his head, just as confused as his friend was. 

Shanae had finally had enough at one point or another, because she smiled sweetly and you and asked, “Y/n, are you alright? You’ve been rather quiet tonight.”

“Yeah, usually I can’t get you to shut up,” Jason chimed in teasingly with the hope of getting you to cheer up, expecting you to do what you always did—poke him in the ribs where he was sensitive, or rib him right back as the two of you laughed about it, maybe even giving him a small kiss on his cheek like you sometimes did.

Instead, you turned to him, a mighty glare in your eyes as you answered, “Well geez, sorry, Jason. I didn’t realize that my voice was such a turn-off to you.” 

Jason’s mouth dropped open and he physically recoiled, shocked at your loathsome reaction to his simple jokes. 

“Whoa, sweetheart, I was just kiddin’,” Jason defended himself with wide eyes, his hands thrown up in the air. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings—”

“Oh, please, you and I both know that my feelings are the least of your concern,” you’d snapped back, and Jason’s jaw dropped open in shock. He scooted his chair closer to you, leaning in so that he could speak to you quietly, so that you wouldn’t find yourself embarrassed once you were sober.

“Y/n, what the hell?!” Jason whisper-yelled, hurt and enraged that you would say something like that to him. What the fuck did you mean he didn’t care about your feelings?! He stayed awake all night, multiple times a week, because of how much he fucking cared about you. Where the fuck was this coming from? “What the fuck is up with you tonight?”

You only glared back at him, your eyes shining with what he thought were tears. 

“Can’t I just be a little quiet sometimes, Jason? Do I always have to fill the awkward silences for everybody? Am I not allowed to feel a little bit off?” You rambled, the tears that Jason had suspected were there flowing down your cheeks now.

“No, darlin’, of course you can, I just—tell me what’s buggin’ you,” Jason pleaded, shaking his head in confusion. “Let me help you, or fix it, or even just make you feel better—”

“It’s not your fucking job to make me feel better,” you retorted with a hiss, pushing your chair away from him and throwing your napkin down onto the table. “Okay? So just—quit trying.” 

The two of you had already forgotten about the others at the table, too wrapped up in your own melodrama to care that you had an audience. Jason was so worried about you—so worried that he was losing you—that he really couldn’t give a fuck who was listening right now.

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?!” Jason hissed back at you, pulling his chair back to you again to regain some semblance of privacy. “That’s fuckin’ ridiculous, Y/n, I’m never gonna quit tryin’ to help you—”

“You are not my boyfriend, Jason,” you clapped back, standing from the table and putting distance between the two of you. “So just, stop—stop acting like one and let me go. Please, just, let me move on!” 

Jason stood from the table too, but he froze at your last sentence, his mouth falling open in shock and confusion. He opened his mouth to say—something, anything, he didn’t fucking know—but he couldn’t force any words to come out. 

“Y/n, let me drive you home,” Rachel offered, standing from the table and putting herself in between Jason and you. “You’re in no state to drive right now, and Nick will come pick me up later.”

Jason saw you nodding frantically, pressing your hands to your eyes as you wiped tears away from them. 

“Yeah, that’s—yeah,” you agreed readily, grabbing your purse and reaching for your keys to toss to Rachel.

“Wait—no,” Jason interrupted, stepping in between the two of you and attempting to get you to look at him. You refused, your face turned down and away, even though his eyes were pleading for anything that you were willing to give him. “No, Y/n, I’ll drive you, please—we need to talk about this—”

“No.”

Your answer—short, firm, and upset—shocked Jason to his very core and he felt his eyes stinging, his heart dropping into his stomach. He shook his head, unable to understand your simple command, and he stepped closer to you.

You stepped away.

“Y/n, please,” Jason pleaded, dropping his hand between you as he held back a shaky breath. “You’d rather go with Rachel than me right now?”

You didn’t answer him, your only movement was one towards Rachel as you handed her your keys with a sniffle. “Can we go now, please?”

“Yes,” Rachel answered, nodding resolutely at Jason. “Let’s go.”

Jason’s heart broke as he watched you walk out of the restaurant with Rachel—a person whom you despised—instead of leaving with him. 

His head was reeling; he had no idea what had just happened and therefore, he had no idea how to fix it. What the fuck had changed in the past twenty-four hours?

“Jason?” Eric’s voice was even and calm, but Jason had a feeling that it wasn’t going to stay that way for long. “I’m going to ask you this exactly once; what the fuck did you do to Y/n?” Immediately, Jason felt defensive, rounding on Eric with a hand in his face and a snarl on his lips.

“I didn’t do fuckin’ anythin’,” Jason growled at him, shoving him back with a hand as Eric rolled his eyes. “Where the fuck do you get off assumin’ that I had anythin’ to do with this?!”

“No offense man, but whatever that was, it had everything to do with you,” Nick interrupted, sharing a concerned look with Eric. Since when were the two of them fuckin’ friends?! “Did something happen between you two?”

“NO,” Jason persisted, pressing his hands to his temples as he began to get a headache. “Everythin’ was fuckin’ normal until—last night?”

“Y/n didn’t come over last night,” Eric argued, crossing his arms over his chest and Jason rolled his eyes.

“What the fuck, Eric, are you the Y/n police now?” Jason asked sarcastically, and Eric glanced back at Nick again. The sight enraged Jason and he threw his hands down, beginning to pace nervously. “What? What the fuck are you two…lookin’ at?!” 

“Look, maybe you should just…fill us in on what happened last night, and maybe we can help figure out what’s going on with Y/n,” Shanae jumped in, standing in between Eric and Jason as she attempted to play peacekeeper. 

Jason sighed, running a hand through his hair as he nodded. What else was he supposed to do? God knew he couldn’t figure it out by himself. 

“I picked her up from work, like I always do on movie nights,” Jason started reiterating. “Told her Nick was comin’ into town, and that he was bringin’ Rachel. That’s when she first got jumpy—but then, when I asked her to come to this dinner with me, she seemed alright? Well, she did, until—”

“Until what?” Shanae asked kindly and Jason blinked at her, remembering.

“Well, she did ask if I meant as a date,” Jason admitted, furrowing his brows and pursing his lips as he tried to puzzle it out in his mind. “I said no, ‘cause I didn’t mean it like that and even if I had, I knew she would just panic about it, so—”

“Holy fucking shit,” Eric interrupted, rolling his eyes and pointing an accusatory finger towards Jason’s chest. “You’re a fucking idiot, Jason.”

Eric’s words lit a fire in Jason’s chest and he went at him, puffing up his chest as he ran into Eric’s finger, fully prepared to punch him straight in the face and ask questions later. 

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?!” Jason demanded, fully aware that they were garnering stares from other restaurant-goers now. “What the fuck do you mean?!”

“Y/n’s in love with you, you dickhead!” Eric laughed cruelly back, his eyes wide and incredulous. “She fucking adores your stupid ass!”

Jason’s chest constricted with anxiety and he shook his head; you…loved him? No, not possible; if you felt that way about him, he would have known it already, or, or you would have…you would have told him. Right?

“No,” Jason denied and Eric threw his hands up and groaned in frustration, shaking his head vigorously. “What? She doesn’t. She’s not. We’re just…we’re just friends.”

“No, she is,” Nick interrupted with a sigh, waving a hand in apology to the waitstaff. “Y/n has been in love with you for years, Jason. Even before we fell down those caves.”

The realization hit Jason like a ton of bricks, weighing him down as he realized that Nick was right; everything you’d done for him, the way you looked at him, how you only spent your free time with him—it made sense. You were in love with him.

Holy fucking shit—he was a stupid fucking dickhead.

“Oh, fuck,” Jason groaned, clutching at his hair in his own stress. “Shit, fuck—oh no.”

“Did you seriously not know that Y/n is madly in love with you?!” Nick questioned, bringing Jason a glass of beer that he downed, instantly. 

 “I’ve never…thought about her like that,” Jason admitted, although as soon as the admission left his lips, it felt wrong. Had he thought of you like that? Sure, he had fantasies about having sex with you…sometimes he thought about what it would be like to kiss you, or build a family with you but that didn’t mean—that didn’t mean he loved you. Did it?

“Bullshit!” Nick instantly exclaimed, loudly, causing Jason to jump in shock. Jason opened his mouth to protest or—explain, maybe—but Nick held up a finger with a warning glare that he wasn’t quite finished. 

“You never noticed how much of a fucking wreck you were whenever Y/n was out on assignment?” Nick asked, and Jason gulped as he remembered how awful it had felt, not knowing if you were coming back to him. How he’d thrown things and broke things and been a general asshole to everybody until the second that you came back to the base.

 “Or how moody you’d get when she went out with other Marines on base?” Jason grunted at Nick’s words, and even now, he remembered that he’d felt jealous of Eric just taking you to work—and Eric had a very steady girlfriend. 

“You’re sitting here and you’re telling me that you don’t stay up with her all night long when she has the nightmares, just to hold her?” Nick continued. “You’re gonna sit here and tell me that you had no problem letting Clarice die when she was infected—but when it was Y/n, you wouldn’t let anyone even think about doing the same to her?! You’re really gonna sit here and you’re gonna tell me that you did all of that stuff and you’re not in love with her?!”

The silence in the room was deafening as the pieces began to click into place in Jason’s mind; his heart was racing, his palms were sweating, and he felt like he was going to pass out.

 “...Holy shit!!!” Jason hollered, hopping back up to his feet with his mouth gaping open and a frantic, terrified look on his face. “I’m fuckin’ in love with her!” 

Nick walked over to him with a smile on his face, clamping a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. 

“Yeah, dude,” Nick confirmed. “Take it in. You’re down fuckin’ bad.” 

As soon as the words left his friend’s mouth, Jason knew. Fuck, how could he have missed it?! How could he have pushed his feelings for you so far down that he hadn’t even realized it himself? Fuck, and he knew he loved you too, because he’d almost said it to you—when he thought you were dying, down in those caves and you’d asked why he saved you—fuck he was so fuckin’ stupid!

“Oh, shit, fuck, I need to get to her now,” Jason rushed out, hurrying over to the door and leaving Nick, Shanae, and Eric following behind him. “I need to tell her—fuck, she needs to know—”

“Shit dude, you can’t drive like this,” Nick insisted, wrenching Jason’s arm away from his truck and pulling him over to his car. “I’ll take you, and then Rachel and I will find a way to get your truck back home, alright?”

“Fuck it, I don’t give a shit, just get me there,” Jason begged and Nick nodded, trying not to laugh at the visual of Jason swinging himself into his car as if his life depended on it. 

But fuck, it sure as hell felt like it did.

🌒

YOU couldn’t bring yourself to change out of your tight leather dress. You desperately needed to take off the stupidly lacey underwear you’d worn underneath it—you’d wanted to feel hot, confident—but all it did was serve as a reminder to you of the sex that you weren’t having and that you haven’t had in a ridiculously long time. 

You sighed, staring at your reflection in the mirror and trying not to cry; you were certain by this point that you had ruined whatever friendship that you and Jason had. You’d self-sabotaged, and why? Because you’d let your stupid, selfish feelings get in the way? You were such an idiot, and even if there was a way to fix it, you were certain that there wasn’t a way to forget it.

You thought you heard a knock at the door, but you waved it off, focusing on scrubbing the makeup off of your face. It wasn’t until Jason’s deep timbre of voice floated through your apartment that you stood, frozen, before running out of the bathroom.

There he was, standing in your living room, looking distraught and glancing around anxiously for you. Rachel was gone, you noticed, and as soon as you did, Jason’s eyes found yours and a sense of relief settled across his face.

You stood across the room with a mug of coffee—Rachel had made you sober up— and you set it down slowly on the counter with a gulp, knowing that if you were going to salvage this relationship, that now was the time to do it.

“Jason,” you greeted, walking slowly towards him with your hands up in surrender. “I’m so sorry, I should have never been drinking—and I definitely should have never said any of those things to you—”

“I’m in love with you,” Jason interrupted, his words coming out quickly and desperately, like he really needed to say it right then or he might never get up the courage to do it. “I—I fuckin’ love you, Y/n, and I’m so sorry that I never said it before—”

“What?” You questioned, taking a step away from him and pinching yourself lightly as you tried to deduce if this was real life. Yup; this is real. This is legit. “You—what?” 

To your utter surprise, Jason smirked; and then, he laughed. Out loud. Like this was the funniest conversation in the whole fucking world. 

“I love you, Panic Attack,” Jason continued with a gigantic grin on his face, grabbing your hands and pulling you towards him. You didn’t resist, allowing him to pull you into him as his arms encircled your waist, his one hand reaching up to cup your cheek and press a tiny, sweet kiss to your forehead. “I think I—I’ve always known that I loved you I just—fuck; I’m so terrified that if I let myself love you, I’ll lose you and—Y/n, I can’t. I can’t fuckin’ lose you.”

Your entire chest felt like it was on fire—the good kind, that is—and you beamed up at him, feeling the tears spring from your eyes but not really giving a shit. 

“You’ll never lose me, Jason,” you assured him quietly, reaching up and grasping his face in your hands, giggling as you watched the large, amazingly beautiful smile light up his face. “I love you so much, I can’t even think sometimes—”

His mouth was on yours before you could even finish speaking, but you couldn’t give two fucks; you reciprocated the kiss with just as much fervor as he was giving you, and you found yourself leaning farther and farther into his touch, wishing that you could feel even more of him now that you’d gotten the smallest of tastes. 

“Fuck, you taste fuckin’ amazing, and that’s just your lips,” Jason moaned into your mouth, backing you up into your apartment walls, his hands clutching your hips like now you were his lifeline. “Damn, baby, please—I want to taste more of you, fuck, please?”

“Damn it, Jason, like you even have to ask,” you responded in kind, pulling down the tiny sleeves to your leather dress and not even having to wait a second before Jason’s lips were attached to your collarbone, sucking vigorously as you knew he was leaving you the fucking biggest hickey in the world.

“Shit, Jason, I always knew that you’d be good at this,” you whined, and Jason grinned against your skin, his teeth pressing against the thinnest part of your bone and causing a shiver to run up and down your spine. 

“I don’t know where the fuck you got this leather dress from but baby girl, the moment I saw you in it, all I fuckin’ cared about was rippin’ it the fuck off of you,” Jason growled and you moaned against his words, allowing his hands to push the dress the rest of the way down your torso, watching as his eyes nearly bugged out of his skull.

“What?” You asked, confused, your eyes raking down your body as you inspected to see if there were any scars or new bruises that you hadn’t noticed you’d acquired. “What? Jason, what’s wrong, are you alright—”

“Your bra.” Jason’s voice was hoarse, constricted, and it was then that you noticed that his eyes were glued to your breasts anxiously, his lips trapped in between his teeth and his tongue darting in and out as he took you in. “It’s…fuck, is that just pure lace?”

You grinned evilly at him, pushing the dress past your thighs and watching as his eyes wandered down with it. He whined when he caught sight of your barely-covered pussy, throwing his head back and running a hand down his face. 

“Shit, darlin’ that—a matching set—oh, fuck!”

Jason didn’t want to waste anymore time talking, apparently, because he was already on his way downtown, his lips locking onto your breast and removing your bra completely. Your fingers clutched his hair, sure your fingernails were raking damage into his scalp, but he didn’t seem to care. Your yelps and moans were pathetic, but Jason thrived on them, intent on making you cum by just sucking your nipples.

A short, few seconds later, you were there, orgasming intensely as his hand shot down to feel your throbbing pussy, and you bucked up into him, encouraging him to remove your underwear. He did so, and you wasted no time in pulling his own clothes off of him, making sure that you took your time to appreciate how fucking fit he was. 

Your tongue raked down his abs as you made your own way down Jason’s body, stopping just short of his penis. You looked up at him with big, doe eyes, and Jason looked back down at you nervously.

“Doll, you don’t have to—”

You didn’t waste any time in taking him into your mouth completely, your mouth doing exactly what it knew how to do. He was big, but you knew you could handle it—and the way that he was moaning and writhing had you feeling insanely confident.

It was only a minute into it that Jason tore your head away by your hair, and you looked up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently.

“Quit teasin’ me,” Jason growled at you and you giggled, straightening yourself up to be back at his level.

“If you don’t like my teasing, then why are you moaning?” You antagonized, and you could see Jason’s tongue in his cheek as his eyes brightened and he shook his head at you, picking you up off of your feet and carrying you to the bathroom.

“You fuckin’ little tease,” Jason sneered and you winked at him, allowing him to set you down in his shower. “I want you wet, princess.”

You didn’t bother correcting his old nickname for you—you simply turned on the shower, allowing the hot water to encompass you both as Jason pinned you up against the shower walls, hiking a leg up as he entered you slowly, taking in your face and making sure that you were alright.

Finding the assurance that he needed, he began to pump in and out of you—his member so big that it filled your walls, hitting your g-spot with minimal effort. That, or Jason knew what he was doing, and you were willing to wager that he did. His mouth was biting, licking, and sucking at your clavicle, with one hand working your clit and the other fondling your breasts, focusing heavily on your nipples as he knew that that had made you cum the first time. 

Your eyes couldn’t help but wander up to his hair, now wet from the streaming water, and something about the brown locks hanging down and sticking to his face was so fucking sexy that it made you cum right on the spot—Jason following instantly after.

When the orgasms ended and the high faded shortly after, Jason looked at you, a cheeky smile on his face as he pressed another kiss to your lips, lingering for a long time as he seemed hesitant to let you go. 

“This is real,” you breathed out, and Jason smiled against your lips, your eyes staring at his dimple as it was so close to you now. “Right? This is really happening? You love me? And you want to be—what, my boyfriend?”

Jason laughed out loud at that and you quirked an eyebrow, confused. He only held you closer as he said,

“Sweetheart, I wanna fuckin’ marry you,” Jason admitted, and you watched the blush sweep across his face at the admission. “I want to take on life with you, baby—one panic attack at a time.”

You giggled, pulling him closer as you pressed another kiss to his lips.

“That was the stupidest joke you’ve ever made, Jason.”

“Yeah,” Jason chuckled, “The fuck it was, sweetheart.”

taglist: @house-of-kolchek @kawaiiwitch224 @inactiveforidk @lorebite @yeslieutenant @kassiekolchek22 @pechvogel @buttermykolchek @emilykolchivans @e-jaegerenthusiast

“I hate men.”

Another day, the same old fuckin’ words Jason would hear you speak, over and over again. You’d just gotten back from another shitty date, and here you were at his apartment, on his bed, with an arm over your eyes as you complained to him—again—about how you hated dating and how down you were with it.

He was gettin’ real fuckin’ sick of you not seein’ him there. 

“I just—why am I not good enough, Jason? Why does every man I go out with end up rejecting me? What the hell is wrong with me—”

“What’s wrong with you—the only thing that’s wrong with you—is that you can’t see what the hell’s right in front of you,” Jason retorted, watching your eyes widen up to the size of saucers. He leaned in closer to you, his lips on the shell of your ear, when he whispered, “Can’t you see what’s right in front of you, darlin’? Can’t you see just how motherfuckin’ amazing I would treat you—if you’d just give me the chance?”

He watched you gulp, shaking your head as you leaned in towards him.

“Jason, are you—you can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious, darlin’,” Jason growled, moving in even closer as his lips hit the shell of your ear. “Let me show you just how serious I am.”

You didn’t move, didn’t say anything, as Jason advanced on you, his arm coming across your stomach and pinning you down onto the bed as his body lay over yours. His mouth enveloped yours in a kiss and you whimpered, shoving your tongue hastily down his throat as he felt the telltale tightening in his pants that begged him to move this along.

“Baby, I need you, please,” he was begging, and you seemed to respond to it in kind, undoing his belt buckle and lowering your mouth down his body, down over his underwear, licking him through the fabric.

“Oh, fuck, that’s a good fuckin’ girl,” Jason moaned, and it seemed to spur you on as you discarded his boxers, taking him fully into your mouth. Jason was clutching the sheets of his bed as you blew him, his head reared back and a teasing moan on the tip of his mouth. “Oh, baby, you’re doing so good—so good for me. You’re so amazing, darlin’, so perfect at this. Fuck, you’re—fuck!”

Your tongue had quickened the pace and Jason was panting, sweat dripping down his face as he felt himself cum, his orgasm overtaking him once he peeked down at you—seeing your face watching him eagerly, eyes dark and hooded, mouth fully enveloping him. 

“You’re so good at that, baby girl,” Jason crooned and you simpered under his affections, moving yourself up over the top of him and laying down on his chest. “Look at my pretty baby, so brilliant at everything she does.”

“NICK, I’m not fucking going,” you insisted, pulling against your old friend’s arm, resisting in your way too short, way too tight red dress that you’d thrown on when he’d lied and told you he was taking you out to the club tonight. “Let me go, Nick! I told you already; I don’t want to go anywhere near that asshole for the next few lifetimes!” 

That asshole being, famously, Nick’s annoyingly stupid Marine friend Jason Kolchek.

Nick had been your closest friend since high school, and when he informed you a few years back that he was joining the Marines, you were naturally hesitant. You had nothing against the Marines, but it wasn’t like the state of the world was a good one at the time. There was a truly genuine and very good chance that you’d never see the friend you’d dubbed a brother again. 

Luckily, that hadn’t been the case and he’d come back home a year ago mostly in one piece—although you couldn’t help but notice that something about his goofy, good-natured spirit was glaringly missing and you knew that he’d seen some shit, although you didn’t know what it was. You’d never asked, figuring that if he wanted or needed to confide in you, he would. 

He brought one other thing back from the war, too, and that was Jason Kolchek. When you first met him, you’d found him funny, charming, and sexy as fuck. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for you to develop a crush on him, wanting to be around him as much as possible, and wondering if he felt the connection too. 

Nick had picked up quickly on your little crush, too, and began teasing you about it relentlessly—sometimes hinting at it in front of Jason. You were too much of a wimp to say anything to Jason himself, even though the two of you were with each other nearly every single day, sometimes even alone. In fact, in such a short amount of time, Jason had become your closest friend—the both of you choosing to spend your free time with each other, with or without the group involved.

Anything new you found, you shared with Jason. He took his lunch break from work every single day with you, taking the time to drive all the way to the little coffee shop you frequented just to eat with you. You made him dinner most nights, bringing it over to his apartment while the two of you ate and watched new episodes of your favorite shows together. This had gone on for six or so months—until you had your heart broken. 

It wasn’t until Jason had taken out another girl from your friend group, Carolynn, that you’d realized you had no chance after all, and you immediately began distancing yourself. Canceling plans with Jason, purposefully avoiding Carolynn (who, for the record, knew about how much you liked Jason when she asked him out), and overall being a bitch to him anytime he said a word. For the last three months, that’s what your relationship had been; antagonistic. Until today, apparently, you just quit hanging out all together, the image of Carolynn hanging onto the man you’d fallen for too much to bear anymore. You had to get over Jason Kolchek, and seeing him every single day, hearing his adorable little quips, and spending any amount of time with him just wasn’t going to cut it. 

“Oh, the fuck you aren’t,” Nick growled back at you, tugging at your hand once more as he tried to pull you towards the lit apartment building. “Y/n, you’ve been avoiding game nights for months. Everyone misses you. You’re coming.”

You pulled back viciously against your friend with a groan, and he rolled his eyes, standing in one place as you didn’t even manage to nudge him in the opposite direction. Finally, you gave up with a huff, throwing your arms down towards the ground and pouting as you crossed them over your chest, finishing the image with a. frustrated little foot stomp. 

“Nick, I agreed to go out with you tonight when I thought that it would just be the two of us,” you continued to argue, not daring to look back up at the apartment building that, until three months ago, you’d spent every single day at. “I don’t have enough social battery to deal with everyone tonight. And I have so much shit to do, it’s not even funny—”

“That’s bullshit,” Nick interrupted, hooking your arm through his and leading you through the front door and up the staircase. “Your social battery is fine; you’re just avoiding Jason—still. It’s been three months, Y/n, don’t you think that’s quite enough?”

“No, actually,” you answered, giving up on fighting Nick and mentally preparing yourself for the barrage of questions that surely awaited you tonight. Not to mention that you’d see Jason again—in person—for the first time in nearly three months. “Three months is actually not enough time to mourn the loss of my best friend and man I’d fallen in love with, Nick.”

“For the love of hell, Y/n, you act like Jason died.” Nick rolled his eyes and the two of you reached floor six—the floor Jason and Nick lived on. “And I thought that I was your best friend.”

“You are,” you sighed, staring at the door at the end of the hall, to the left, that you knew so well. “But Jason is—was—too. Just…with more feelings involved. And anyways, it is mourning, Nick. I went from seeing him every single day and revolving my life around him to not seeing him at all, so, yeah. I’d call that a loss.”

“Oh, yeah?” Nick replied, and his words sounded like a challenge. “And, I’m sorry, remind me Y/n—whose fault was that, exactly?”

“Shut up, Nick,” you grumbled, and the two of you were outside of the apartment door now, just waiting for Nick to open it and invite you in. You could hear and feel the thump of a bass emanating from inside, and you imagained that people had already started drinking.“You try watching the person you love be with someone else, okay?”

Nick scoffed, and there was something behind his eyes that told you he understood a hell of a lot better than you gave him credit for, and you raised an eyebrow back up at him. As far as you knew, he’d never been in love with anyone before, ever.

“Jason and Carolynn aren’t together,” Nick insisted with a sigh. “They only went out a couple of times, and then Jason told her he wasn’t interested in her like that anymore, okay?”

“Doesn’t change the fact that he did go out with her at all,” you responded, your hands balling up into fists as Nick pushed the apartment door open. “Doesn’t change the fact that I thought we were heading somewhere, and then he went out with somebody else, Nick.”

Nick rolled his eyes again and when the door opened, you were instantly hit with the smell of cheap beer and melted cheese. “You could always try telling Jason how you feel,” Nick suggested, gesturing for you to walk inside. “Especially since he’s not dating Carolynn.”

Your feet trudged sullenly inside of the apartment and you took a deep breath of courage, hoping that it was enough to get you through the night. You looked around, watching some of your friends play Twister, some out on the balcony stargazing, and others mingling around randomly. It wasn’t until you set your eyes on the old kitchen that you stopped in your tracks, your face paling and heart dropping down into your stomach.

There was Jason with a beer in his hand, talking to a guy you’d never seen before, with Carolynn hanging off of his arm and gazing up at his face with infatuation and stars written in her eyes. If you had only looked a little bit longer, you would’ve seen the discomfort on jus face, would’ve seen him shrugging her off. 

If only: but you didn’t. 

You scoffed, turning instantly back to Nick and shoving him with the palm of your hand.

“Not together, huh?” You challenged pointedly glaring over at Jason—who hadn’t even seen you come in. “Get me a fucking beer, Kay. I’m heading out to the balcony.”

You ran, praying to God that Jason hadn’t seen you yet. 

✨✨✨✨✨

You were five beers into the night when he’d finally found you, standing outside on the balcony and laughing with two of your girlfriends about a failed date one of them had had over the weekend. You noticed his presence instantly; it’s like you could sense when he’d entered the room sometimes. 

Your friends’ faces fell and you bristled, turning your head barely to the side to see him walking out, a small smile on his face as he came over to approach you. Even though you’d sent signals with your face and your eyes that he shouldn’t dare try, he did, and your female friends excused themselves awkwardly as they left the two of you alone out on the balcony. 

You hated yourself for it, but you honestly couldn’t help it; you looked him over, noticing that he was choosing to wear your favorite t-shirt of his—a pale blue one with faint outlines of white letters on it, spelling out random cities and states. He looked so motherfucking amazing in blue, always had, and it somehow brought out his brown eyes and the freckles that dotted his perfectly cream face. 

“Y/n.” Jason said your name softly and cautiously, his eyes tinted with a strange weariness—or maybe it was sadness—that you’d never seen him wear before. “It’s been a while.”

“Where’s your shadow?” The first words that you’d spoken to him in three months, and those were the ones that you’d chosen. Tactful, Y/n. And not at all suspicious.

“I—what?” Jason questioned, his brows raised and shock registering across his face. “What do you—“

🫣“Carolynn,” you responded, because apparently the alcohol in your system was bringing out your candor tonight. And your resentment. “She’s been hanging onto you like a fucking magnet. Guess things are working out between you two.”

Jason’s lips were pursed like he was thinking, and he took a step closer to you, leaning against the balcony railing and looking out at the city beyond. When you weren’t looking at him, his eyes were fixed on you, drinking you in, praying to God it wouldn’t be another three months before he saw you again in person. 

He wasn’t wearing his hat tonight, and you gulped. Jason’s full head of light brown hair was your biggest weakness, and he was pulling out all the stops tonight. His hair was messily arranged in the way that made you want to wind your fingers up in it, throw him down underneath you, and have your way with him. 

Fuck. You shook the unwanted thoughts from your mind and turned away from him, taking another swig of alcohol as you stared out at the city too. 

“Ain’t nothin’ to work out,” Jason responded slowly, watching you for any sort of reaction but getting none. “I’m not into her like that, Y/n.”

“Sure looked like you were ‘into her like that’ up until ten minutes ago,” you accused, and you winced at the bitterness that came through in your voice. Jason frowned at your comment and scooted closer to you, leaning his head slightly over the railing and angled so that he forced you to look at his face. 

You were weak; you looked, and his big brown eyes were staring up at you, confused, and he nudged your elbow with his own, causing you to hold your breath in fear that you’d start crying at any moment.

“I’ve missed you.” Jason whispered it like it was reverent, like a prayer, and you shut your eyes tight against the tears that threatened to spill. “I don’t know what the fuck I did, Y/n, but whatever it is, I’ll fix it. Please—just fucking tell me, please. I’ll do whatever the fuck it takes to fix it. Anythin’ at all, I just—I want you back, sweetheart. I want my days to be filled with Y/n again. Please…tell me what went wrong.”

You bit your lip and turned away from him, tears spilling from your eyes that you hastily wiped away with the sleeve of your shirt. How could you tell him what he wanted to know now? How could you say that you were in love with him—that you had been since practically the first time you’d met him—and risk losing him all over again? You couldn’t; you couldn’t take another heartbreak, and you needed to put the distance between the two of you again. Now. 

Shaking your head, you took a steady breath and said, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Jason. I’m just busy.”

“Bullshit!” Jason hissed, and you heard the slap of his palm against the railing, heard his footsteps as he wound himself to the other side of you, pushing his body into your personal space. You had no choice but to look at him now, and he was angry. Angry and confused, and you knew that you couldn’t give him what he wanted. “Sweetheart, don’t act like I don’t know you better than anyone else in the entire world—enough to know when you’re lyin’ through your fuckin’ teeth,” Jason continued and you glared back at him, your hands crushing your can of beer under the pressure of how hard you were squeezing it. “You’re avoidin’ me, and I wanna know just why the hell you are. I wanna fix this!”

“There’s nothing—” Your voice cracked and broke and Jason’s face softened at your sudden show of emotions. “Nothing to fix. Not anymore.”

You tried to turn away again but Jason grabbed your arm, pulling you into him as his hands went around your waist and he held you in place. You sucked in a breath and you could feel your face turning red, your eyes wide, as one of Jason’s hands came up and pushed your hair behind your ears, lingering on your face as he stared into your eyes.

“You’re the most important person in the world to me,” Jason uttered and your chest was heaving so hard in your anxiety that it was brushing against Jason’s. His words were having an intense effect on you, likely amplified by the vast amounts of alcohol floding your system, and you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from his. 

Jason must have taken that as a sign to step closer into you because he did, both of his hands coming up to cup your face as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“I meant it,” Jason assured softly, “Whatever it is that happened, I’ll fix it; you’re the only thing I care about, Y/n—”

“Jasey!” Carolynn’s shrill, drunken voice broke through the moment as she slid the doors to the balcony open, a frown adorning her face as she saw the close stance that you and Jason had taken together. You practically leapt away from Jason, wiping the tears from off of your face as you stared back and forth between Carolynn and Jason. Jason’s jaw was hardset, annoyed, and you looked up at him, waiting to see how he’d respond. “Baby, I want to sit next to you during Truth or Dare. It’s starting.” Carolynn’s lashes batted innocently as she spoke, and the hope that Jason had elicited with his earlier words fell away from you, and you suddenly felt sick. 

Not dating her my ass, you thought sorely, scoffing as you shook your head over at Jason, who was glaring at Carolynn.

“‘Baby,’” you repeated incredulously, shoving your beer can into his chest and pushing hard, using your entire arm to move him out of the way as you hurried inside. 

This whole night had been an awful fucking idea.

✨✨✨✨✨

You were three sheets to the wind by the time Truth or Dare had actually started, and the alcohol in your system had effectively removed your rage and replaced it with a fit of the giggles. Somewhere in your rational mind, you knew that you should not be playing Truth or Dare in your state—because you were likely to do anything, likely the really stupid anything’s, and get hurt by doing so—but you were too far gone to actually give a fuck. 

You were seated in between Nick and Brianna, a friend who had also gone to high school with you, as the game finally got started. Jason reluctantly seated himself directly across from you on a folding chair, arms crossed over his chest and eyes sad again as he watched you laughing with Brianna about something you could barely remember. You didn’t miss the silent conversation he seemed to be having with Nick using only their eyes and you frowned, knowing the conversation was likely about you. 

You couldn’t help but notice that Carolynn’s eyes looked red-rimmed, like she’d been crying recently, and you wondered what had happened in the fifteen minutes that you’d left her outside with Jason. 

“Okay!” Brianna stood up, and clapped her hands together, gathering everyone into the living room. “You all know the rules by now; you can either pick Truth or Dare, and you have to do whatever dare you’re dared, or answer whatever question asked truthfully. Capiche?”

“And…if we don’t?” Johnny, another of your friends asked, and you noticed that he’d gone considerably paler. You smirked to yourself, taking another large swig of your beer. You were so drunk that you couldn’t even really feel the extra buzz anymore, but that sure as hell wasn’t stopping you. Neither was the promise of an extra intense hangover in the morning that was currently hovering around somewhere in your consciousness, being pushed out farther and farther away with every sip you drank. 

“Rules state that any person who pussies out of a dare or an honest question—or gets caught in a lie—has to drink our grease cup,” Nick informed smugly, and just the thought of having to put that shit in your mouth made you suddenly nauseous.

“I’m sorry,” Carolynn interrupted, a look of confusion on her face. “Your what now? Is that some sort of sex thing?!”

“Is that some sort of sex thing,” you mocked, rolling your eyes and knocking back another swig of beer. “It’s a grease can, Carolynn; the can that they use to dump their grease into after they cook food so it doesn’t burn their fucking trash bags, genius.”

Alcohol was, apparently, turning you into a bitch tonight, but you couldn’t really give a fuck at the moment. You did notice that Jason was eyeing you suspiciously, as if he were trying to piece something together. 

Jason cleared his throat, leaning in and taking his own sip of beer. “And what if we refuse that too? Gonna call the cops on us?” He was teasing, and that was clear in his voice; but something about his clear disregard for rules—that you’d once found sexy and definitely did not find sexy anymore—pissed you off. 

“Too scared to play a little round of Truth or Dare?” You confronted, straightening up and knowing damn well that it made your boobs pop up just a little bit farther, spilling from your red dress. “Tough old Marine can’t handle a little honesty—or a little risk?”

You watched as Jason’s gaze set on you, and there was a gleam in his brown eyes. 

“Count me the fuck in,” Jason responded, all the while never taking his eyes off of you, not even for a second. You glared back at him as you slowly leaned back against the couch in between Brianna and Nick, never taking your own eyes off of Jason’s either. “Who’s first?”

“Well, it’s house seniority, so…you or Nick,” Brianna responded, turning her gaze over to Nick. “Wanna pick first?”

“Hell yeah!” Nick agreed, slamming his beer down onto the corner table and playfully stretching his arms, like he was getting ready for a fight. “Let’s see here…I spy with my little eye…Carolynn.” 

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and scoff—or you thought you did, your drunken mind couldn’t remember—and fixed your eyes on the little redhead, her blue eyes sparkling with mischievousness as she stared back at Nick.

“Hit me with your worst, Nick. Dare,”  she consented, and you didn’t miss the way that she side-eyed Jason, as if checking to see if he was watching. 

He wasn’t.

“I dare you to tell everyone what that little article was called that you were reading on our computer,” Nick challenged and you quirked an eyebrow, confused. “Since you only used it about an hour ago, I’m curious.” 

Something about his tone made you wonder if he already knew what she was reading and was only trying to embarrass her, but that didn’t sound like the Nick that you knew at all.

You watched as Carolynn’s face fell, and she shook her head, tears at the corners of her eyes and her face paling. 

“I don’t—I can’t exactly recall—”

“No, no, no,” Nick insisted with an evil grin on his face. “No lying, or take a drink from the grease cup Carrie.”

A part of you wanted to stop this, to ask Nick to quit embarrassing her, but the petty part of you was waiting to see how this was going to play out. Besides—whatever it was—it couldn’t have been that embarrassing. Right?

“Fine,” Carolynn gulped, shaking her head and covering her face with her hands when she said, “It was something from Cosmo…just a stupid article—I was just intrigued, honestly—it was called, ‘Ten Tricks To Make Him Choose You Over Her.’ Fuck, are you happy now, asshole?!”

She was tearing up again and you actually felt a little bit bad as you slid your eyes over to Jason, who winced. He was avoiding all the gazes that suddenly fell on him, but Nick had apparently decided that the chaos wasn’t quite over yet.

“And?” He prompted. “Did it work? Did Jason choose you over—”

“You get one dare,” Carolynn interrupted with a hiss. “I don’t have to answer that.” Although the answer was quite clear that Jason had not chosen her, you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering who he was onto now. And why I’m not good enough for it to be me.

“My fucking turn,” Carolynn growled, tears and revenge in her eyes. “Guess I’ll throw it back to Nick, then; truth or dare?” 

“Truth,” Nick scoffed, pushing himself against the couch. “I’m an open book, Carolynn; can’t fuck with me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Carolynn questioned, a petty smirk resting across her lips. “Alright, then; is it true that you had an affair with a married woman whilst stationed in Iraq?”

Nick’s face dropped and you whipped your head over to him; this was absolutely news to you, but the look on his face told you everything you needed to know about his guilt. 

“How did you hear about that?” Nick asked, his voice sounding shaky, haunted, instead of answering the question. You watched his Adam’s Apple bob up and down and sweat bead on his forehead. Carolynn only shrugged, looking incredibly smug now. 

“Let’s just say your little flame works at a bar downtown, and she was all too eager to tell on you,” Carolynn responded. “So I take it that your answer is a yes?”

Nick stayed silent.

“It’s either a yes or you drink from the grease can,” Carolynn threw back in his face and you growled, unable to hold yourself back any longer, despite the hurt you felt at your best friend hiding something from you. 

“It’s obviously a yes,” you hissed, throwing yourself in between her and Nick, who was just staring at his hands, not speaking. “Let’s move the fuck on. My turn.”

“No, he didn’t answer—”

Shut up, Carolynn, like I give a fuck,” you answered with a scoff and she retreated into her seat, shocked. You heard Jason chuckle softly, and when you looked up at him for confirmation, you could see that he was looking at you with admiration. 

It made you smile, just a little bit.

You moved on quickly, daring Johnny to show everyone his boxers to lighten the mood. It worked, although you could tell Nick was still just a little bit off. Johnny dared another one of your friends to lick the floor, who in turn dared Jason to twerk—which he did, horribly, and it somehow still turned you on and made you love him even more—and then Jason turned to Brianna, asking her who in this room she was the most attracted to.

“Nick,” Brianna admitted quietly, a blush escaping onto her cheeks. You smirked, already knowing about her crush on your friend, but Nick’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he looked over the tiny blonde incredulously. You also happened to know about his crush on her, and you were grateful that Carolynn’s little truth bomb hadn’t scared Brianna off of him. 

“Fuck you, Kolchek!”

Jason only laughed in response and your heart soared at the sound, unable to help yourself from looking over at him, the two of you locking eyes as he grinned at you and—you swear to God you weren’t making it up—checked you out, looking down your figure slowly with a strange leer. 

You had to be so drunk that you were seeing things. 

“Fine, Jason, truth or dare!” Brianna fired back, despite the fact that Jason had done a dare right before her. Jason made a noise of outrage and you giggled, catching his attention once more as he grinned over at you, your heart leaping at the sight. 

“Now that’s just fucked up!” Jason teased, even eliciting a laugh out of a somber Nick. “Fine, whatever; truth, I guess. ‘Cause I sure as hell ain’t shakin’ my ass again.”

The whole group laughed and Jason grinned, always the center of attention. For some reason, you couldn’t find the willpower to take your eyes off of him, and he was staring at you too, an eyebrow quirked as he was practically inviting you over. 

You usually sat right in front of him during these games, his hands resting on your shoulders.

But you couldn’t let yourself do that, not until you were well over him. 

“Hmm, wow, now what could I possibly ask of you?” Brianna asked sarcastically and Jason groaned, running a hand down his face, stressed. You giggled again, unable to help yourself—Jason was just too damn cute, sometimes. “Okay, Jason; if you could fuck anybody in this room, who would it be?”

Suddenly, you were all ears, your curiosity and burning jealousy getting the better of you. 

“You’re an asshole,” Jason responded with a chuckle and Brianna laughed out loud and sent him a wink, like there was an inside joke between the two of them. “You really gonna make me do this?!”

“Hell yes!” Brianna shrieked and you giggled again, even though you didn’t know what they were talking about. “You did it to me first! You started this war, Kolchek!” 

“Fine,” Jason spoke through gritted teeth, and you noticed that his cheeks were suddenly very red. You took another nervous swig of beer, swearing to yourself that if Carolynn’s name came out of his mouth, you would leave the fucking room. “You should know that I’m only doin’ this ‘cause that grease can is over a year old!”

“Dude, just spit it out already—”

“Y/n,” Jason answered, teeth gritted and face burning as red as a tomato. “If I could fuck anyone in this room, it would be Y/n.”

 Jason’s admission rang through your ears, nearly making you spit out your drink. You barely managed to hold it in, but it burned going down your throat badly enough that you began coughing violently, standing up and gesturing eagerly for Brianna’s glass of water—which she very smugly handed you.

“Y/n, you okay?” Nick asked, through barely concealed tears of laughter. You glared at him, flipping him the bird as you slugged down the water, handing the empty glass back to Brianna and avoiding Jason’s gaze as you blushed. 

“Well, now the cat’s outta the bag,” Jason admitted, and you looked back over to him as you sat down, and he was avoiding your gaze. “I have a thing for Y/n; any other questions?”

“Uh, yeah?!” You chimed in, drunkenly, and everyone in the room was sharing knowing, mischievous looks. Jason himself looked over at you, embarrassed as he took in your incredulous expression. “Several, actually, the first of all being don’t blatant lies get the grease can?!”

“I ain’t lyin’,” Jason sighed, with a roll of his eyes. “You always deflect, Y/n.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you responded with a pointed glare in his direction. “Like you actually want to fuck me.”

“I do,” Jason countered, nonchalantly, as if he’d just accepted it at this point. “Wanted to since the first time you spent the night here.” 

The admission burned your blood, and you were sure that your entire body was flushed red at this point—and still, you didn’t let yourself believe it. You couldn’t; because if he actually felt that way, why didn’t he do something about it sooner?!

“Sure.”

“Fuck—you’re so motherfuckin’ stubborn!” Jason argued, raising his voice just a little bit. 

“Oh, thank you,” you hissed back. “How kind of you, darling—”

“Y/n,”  Nick’s voice broke through the silence, and he had a finger pressed to his temple. “Truth or dare.”

For some reason, his question stunned you and you turned to him, confused. 

“What?”

“Truth or dare. You haven’t gone yet. It’s your turn.”

Ah, you knew what game he was playing; he was waiting for you to say ‘Truth’, so that he could ask you about your feelings for Jason and you had to answer. Well, you may be drunk, but you weren’t stupid, and you weren’t about to play into your friend’s game tonight. 

Smirking at him, thinking that you beat him, you answered: “Dare, obviously. Ain’t no pussy.”

The malicious grin that overtook Nick’s face floored you, and you suddenly began regretting everything you’d ever done. Ever. In your entire life probably. 

“Interesting,” Nick commented and you gulped, suddenly very afraid for what your friend had in mind for you. “I dare you to take off Jason’s shirt—”

“Oh,” you breathed a sigh of relief, rolling your eyes. “Easy; as if I’d be that affected by a little bit of abs—”

“---and, I want you to use it to blindfold Jason while you give him a lap dance.”

Your face fell, and you didn’t even have the mental energy to glare at Nick. 

“You’re joking,” you insisted, suddenly very aware of Jason’s eyes raking down your body, and aware of everyone else’s eyes on you—aside from Carolynn, who had left the room and you weren’t sure when. “Here? Now? In front of everybody?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Nick countered insincerely, a snicker waiting on the edge of his voice. “When you gave Jason a lap dance for the first time, did you picture it going differently?”

“Oh my gosh, shut up,” you hissed, half-tempted to drink the fucking grease can—before you remembered that time that you and Jason had burnt pizza and stuffed half-burnt pepperoni into the can, along with all of that burnt grease…

“Oh, fuck,” you swore, getting up from your seat and anxiously wiping your sweaty palms on your dress. You turned back around to Nick and with a hiss said, “And for the record, Nickolas, I hate you.” Nick just smirked back at you and shrugged, gesturing with an open palm for you to take your place on Jason’s lap. 

Jason’s eyes widened as he watched you walking over to him, his eyes darting to the other faces in the room as he watched you approaching.

“Wait—Y/n,” he called out as you reached him, your hands outstretched to grab the edges of his shirt. “You don’t have to—”

“If you don’t want it, just say the word and I’ll drink the fucking can,” you whispered in his ear, watching as he gulped and barely kept his hands at his side and not on you. “If you don’t want this, I won’t do it.”

You knew that no one else in the room could hear you, and you looked into Jason’s eyes, seeing the sweat beading on his forehead out of nervousness. He looked down at your lips, and then his eyes wandered and found their way to your heaving cleavage, his teeth capturing his bottom lip as he ogled your breasts. 

“I want it.”

 It was short and sweet and to the point, and you wasted no time in pulling his shirt up and over his head with his assistance. Jason closed his eyes before you even wrapped the shirt around his head, and you felt his arms go around your waist and pull you up onto him so that you could reach better. 

Gently, you wound the fabric over his eyes, loosely knotting it up in the back and sighing nervously as you looked over to Nick.

“So, all you pervs are just going to sit there and watch?” You interrogated and, luckily, everyone grumbled and walked out of the room, fleeing to the balcony as Nick shut the blinds behind them, sending you a wink as he, too, stepped out of the living room.

“Have fun you two,” he called out, shutting the door to the balcony tightly behind him as he finally left you and Jason in there, alone. 

“Are they all gone?” Jason asked, and you noted how hoarse his voice had gotten as you settled yourself onto his lap. 

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice a breathy whisper. “They’re all outside.” You watched Jason’s gulp, and, since you could still see his mouth, you saw his tongue swipe across his lips apprehensively. 

“You don’t have to—I mean, if you don’t want to, nobody’s gonna know—”

“Shh,” you hushed him, settling yourself down onto his lap fully and your eyelids fluttering as you felt how hard he already was. “I want to, too.” 

Your lips were so close to his ear that you decided to take it into your mouth, nipping at it and pressing a long, languid kiss to the pressure point behind it, making him shiver. The effect you seemingly had over him gave you sudden and intense confidence and you began to move, grinding against him slowly and gently, not putting much pressure on his crotch yet at all.

Jason didn’t seem to care; he threw his head back with a groan and you giggled, watching the smile that overtook his lips at the sound as you released more pressure onto him, jerking your hips up in a quick, spasmodic movement, revelling in the little whine that that had elicited from Jason’s mouth. 

You continued in that pattern for a while, eventually getting braver and pressing your lips firmly to his collarbone and sucking harshly, smirking against his skin as he hissed from the combination of your lips and your hips.

You turned your entire body around so that you were chest-to-back, your ass pressed into his crotch as you angled your head down and rested it on his shoulder, knowing that if he wasn’t blindfolded, he would see your entire breasts if he only looked down your dress. 

You didn’t know what had gotten ahold of you, but you grabbed Jason’s hands—that were gripping the edges of the chair—and floated them up towards your breasts, laying them over as you encouraged him to cup them.

“Fuck, shit, Y/n, you’re killin’ me—you’re absolutely fuckin’ killin’ me right now sweetheart,” Jason exhaled, and you stiffened, whipping yourself around instantly and tearing the shirt off of his eyes, leaning into him with one hand in his hair and the other gripping his waist. 

“Then kiss me,” you begged, pushing yourself farther into him, knowing that you were too far gone now to do anything about it. “Kiss me, and then take me up to your room—”

“We can’t.”

His words sobered you—like a splash of freezing cold water—and you lifted yourself off of him with a noise of disbelief. 

“Why?” You question, taking several steps away from him. “Is it because of Carolynn?”

“Carolynn—what?!” Jason questioned, rising from the seat and following you down the hall. “No, why would it be about her?”

“You’re with her,” you answered, refusing to look back at him as tears fell from your eyes. “Or you were, right?”

“What? No, Y/n, we only went on a couple of dates,” Jason corrected, grabbing your arm and turning you around so that he could see your face. He eyed the tears flowing down your face with concern, wiping them away with the palm of his hand and frowning. “I’m not into her, Y/n, not even a little bit.”

“She called you baby,” you reminded him, pulling away and crossing your arms over his chest. “And she was hanging all over you and you don’t want to have sex with me—”

“Whoa, hang on just a second there,” Jason growled loudly, taking another step closer to you and cornering you against what you knew was his bedroom door. “Let’s get one thing explicitly clear—I do want to have sex with you; in fact, I sorta want to have sex with only you—”

“Bullshit,” you called, crossing your arms over your chest defiantly and glaring at him. “If you wanted to have sex with me, you would be having sex with me. And you said no, so, obviously—”

“Fuck, you’re so damn stubborn, all of the fuckin’ time!” Jason screeched, leaning farther into you and making sure you couldn’t walk away. “Listen for a moment, would’ya? I ain’t havin’ sex with you until you’re sober, alright? Sober enough that I know that you actually want this.”

“And what about Carolynn?” You asked, seemingly having your mind stuck in the rut of his ex. 

“For the love—what about her?!”

“Why did you go out with her,” you asked, glaring at him as you attempted to catch him in a lie, “if you wanted to have sex with me?” 

Jason sighed, rubbing a hand down his face as he eased up on you, giving you some more room to breathe.

“‘Cause she told me that you weren’t interested in me that way,” Jason responded honestly, wiping a stray tear away from your face. “And I believed her, ‘cause I knew you were her friend. But I realized that that was a mistake when you started avoidin’ me, and then Nick confirmed it for me—”

“Nick told you that I like you?!” You screeched and Jason winced, pulling you back as you attempted to wrench his door open to get away from facing your own embarrassment. 

“Yes, after I told him that—”

“I’m gonna fucking destroy him!” You screamed, absentmindedly kicking the wall in your alcohol-fueled rage. “He’s going to fucking hear it from me that asshole—”

“Could you just stop freakin’ out for a second, and hear me out here—”

“No, Jason!” You sobbed, thoroughly humiliated and anxious. “Just go away—!”

“No, just fuckin’ listen, Y/n, please!” Jason raised his voice, effectively cutting off your ramblings and gathering your attention. “‘Cause I’m tryin’ to tell you that I’ve been in love with you for almost a fuckin’ year, Y/n!”

The room was silent and your mouth dropped open; wide, fucking open, and you could feel Jason’s eyes on you as he studied your face for a reaction. You shook your head, unable to believe that this was really happening. 

“Are you—you’re kidding,” you deadpanned and Jason shook his head, caressing your face and pressing a kiss tenderly to your forehead.

“Wouldn’t dream of lyin’ about somethin’ like that,” Jason insisted, pulling you in closer to him by the waist and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I love you, doll; I love you so fuckin’ much it physically hurts sometimes. ‘Specially when you avoid me for three months.”

You blushed, leaning into Jason’s lips that were resting against your forehead, prompting him to kiss you again. A thought just now occurring to you—a genius one, you were pretty sure, and not just because you were drunk—you pulled away from Jason with a gasp and a little shriek.

“Y/n? What—”

“You’re sober, right?” You questioned and Jason raised an eyebrow before nodding.

“I mean—yes, but—”

“Great,” you interrupted, pulling his hand and dragging him back into the living room. “Then grab your keys because we are going to Denny’s.”

“Denny’s?! Why the fuck would we go to—”

“To sober me up so I can fuck you,” You informed him, turning around and pressing his body into the refrigerator. With a soft, sensual kiss to his lips, you pulled away with a grin, dangling his car keys in one hand and tossing them to him. “Oh yeah—and I love you too.”

Jason chuckled.

✨✨✨✨✨

“What are you? A cop?!”

“No, but I am a guy who ain’t gonna have sex with you until I’m 100% certain that you’re sober.”

You sighed, shaking your head; you’d think that after three hours of talking, coffee, water, and food, that Jason would have realized the extent of your sobriety but alas, he did not. You sneered at him, putting your hands over your head and walking in a straight line, one foot in front of the other. 

You did it quickly and perfectly—because despite what Jason thought, you were utterly and completely sober now—and Jason grinned when you finished, watching you turn around with your hands up in the air and smug smile on your face. 

“Boom, mic drop, nailed it!” You cheered and Jason laughed, running over to you and swooping you off of the ground spinning you around as he pressed a silly, loving kiss to your lips. When he pulled away, you cocked your head and asked, “So…sex? Sex. We’re having sex now, right—”

Jason was on you before you could even finish your sentence, his lips pressed against yours as he pushed you up against the side of his front door, his hands on your waist and clutching on for dear life. You kissed him back feverishly, running your hands through that sinful hair that you’d dreamed about so many times over the past year, the soft consistency and feeling of it even better than you had hoped.

Jason pulled away for just a split second—long enough to crack open the door to his apartment and usher you inside, the two of you running quickly and quietly to his bedroom—before he pushed himself back onto you again, lowering you down onto his bed and removing his shirt instantly.

“I think it’s time that I repay you,” Jason admitted through huffed breaths and you bit your lip, eyeing his nearly naked form before suddenly, his shirt became your blindfold. “You okay with this, baby?”

“Oh, yes,” you moaned, feeling Jason’s chuckle on your inner thigh as it caused you to jump. “Oh, fuck me—”

“I plan to.”

Before you could say anything else at all, Jason was reaching his hands up your dress and snatching your panties, doing who knows what to them, seeing as you couldn’t see. It took him less than a second to put his mouth on your wet pussy, his tongue alternating between lapping at and sucking your clit. 

You shrieked and writhed underneath him, but Jason took it with grace, bolstering your hips up with his hands so that he could reach your core even better, showing no mercy as his teeth gently grazed against your sensitive nub of nerves.

“Fuck—me—Jason!” You screamed, and Jason chuckled against your pussy, suddenly sucking vigorously as he felt your budding orgasm beginning to bloom. You felt it yourself, and you finally let it overtake you—only three words escaping your mouth as you came. “Thank…burnt…pizza.”

Jason’s head whipped up instantly, and you tore the blindfold off of your eyes, staring sheepishly down at him. 

“I’m sorry baby, but, what exactly are you talkin’ about?” Jason questioned and you giggled, pulling him up towards you and undoing the straps of your dress, letting it fall down to your waist and exposing your naked breasts.

“If it wasn’t for our stupidly disgusting burnt pizza, I might’ve drank that grease cup,” you explained, watching as Jason’s face alighted with recognition.

“Well, then,” he responded, a stupid grin on his face, too. “Think I’m gonna burn another one.” 

You couldn’t respond because, at that moment, his mouth latched onto your nipples as his fingers began to pump in and out of you. He was relentless; his mouth was sucking your nippled extensively while one of his hands kneaded your other breast, his other one circling your clit as he made you a needy mess before him.

You went to work quickly, undoing the buttons and zipper of his jeans and pulling them swiftly down, palming him through his boxers and feeling his fullness as he moaned onto your breast, his teeth clenching onto a nipple and making you shriek extra loudly with uninhibited pleasure. 

Thank the burnt pizza his apartment had soundproof walls.

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