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itsjusthockey · 11 months

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When The Partys Over Pt. 2 - Jack Hughes

Here it is, my heart and soul. Enjoy.

wc:4,466 (credit to gif maker)(don't steal my work)

Content Warning: Swearing, major angst

Part 1 (read first)

Unpublished For Fun First Draft

But nothin' is better sometimes

Once we've both said our goodbyes

When the words fall from your lips, and the sentence registers in his brain, it smacks Jack harder than any hockey hit ever has, and even though you’re the one who’s wasted, he suddenly feels like he wants to pass out.

Instead, he pauses by the door, his entire body freezing, trying to register if he heard you correctly or if being around you just makes him crazy. For what feels like a century, he concentrates on his breathing skills, taking a shaky breath in and letting it go, hoping the extra oxygen will help his brain makes sense of what you’ve thrown at him. He knows you’re drunk, incredibly so, and you probably have no idea what you're saying.

He breaks his focus when he hears slight shuffling behind him, and even though he doesn’t want to, he slowly turns to face you. When his eyes land on your figure, you’re sitting up in his bed, his sheets pooling around your waist. You’re not looking at him for a moment, instead staring out his window, watching the world outside intently, but as if you feel his stare, you tear your eyes away from Jersey and allow your eyes to meet his. You blink slowly, once, twice, and a tear falls from your left eye.

“You fucked me up there for a while.”

You finish the sentence with a forced laugh, and you quickly wipe another tear away, almost seeming embarrassed. Jack feels his face flush, and his heart begins to pound. He can practically hear the thumping in his ears, and his stomach flips in circles. He can’t swallow; the lump forming tight in his throat won’t let him, and even worse, his hands start shaking. His heart is cracking, breaking into a million tiny pieces, and his body is letting him know.

The weight of your words stills time, and he feels like you’re both trapped in the suspended gravity of the moment. Your confession, clearly vulnerable and raw, reverberates through his entire being, continuing to tear him apart bit by bit.

Among the uncomfortable silence, the room grows smaller, almost suffocating, as Jack tries to find his voice. He wants to comfort you, hold you, reach out and understand why you feel this way and why he is the reason why. It’s only been seconds, but he’s trying to play out the entire last year, pinpoint the exact moment where he could have fucked up so badly to make you feel the way you do.

“Wha-what did I do?” His voice is small, almost pleading, as he asks.

You let out a shallow breath, and Jack can almost see the wheels turning inside your head. He has no idea what you’re about to say, and everything that has come out of your mouth is a whiplash, so he can’t even begin to guess.

Your eyes flicker with a mix of emotions—regret, longing, and a hint of resignation—as Jack watches you search for the right words to explain what you’re feeling. It’s as if you're carefully selecting each syllable, fully aware of the impact they will have on him, and you’re scared he’ll break.

“You didn't do anything wrong, Jack," you finally say, your voice soft but laced slightly with bittersweet sadness. "At least not intentionally, and not something you had any control over. My feeling are my own, and I can’t blame you for them.”

Your words hang heavy in the air, and Jack's heart tightens impossibly further as he tries to decipher their meaning. The knots in his stomach tighten with each passing second, and a mixture of anxiety, dread, and anticipation fills the room.

“Do you remember when we met?” You ask, your voice timid.

Jack's mind races, searching through the corridors of memories, until he finds the moment you're referring to—the night that he finally felt a spark of something real, which laid the foundation for the relationship. He nods slowly, his eyes locked with yours, urging you to continue.

An almost wistful smile crosses your lips, and Jack can almost hear the nostalgia coloring your voice. "The crowded bar, the 2000s club music blaring, that stupid fucking costume you were wearing, and it wasn’t even Halloween.”

As you speak, Jack's gaze softens, and the memory floods back as if it was yesterday—your infectious laughter when he’d made a stupid joke as he bought you a drink, the way your eyes sparkled with excitement when he told you he hated mushrooms too, and the genuine connection that bloomed from one single night.

“I think a part of me fell in love with you right away,” you continue, your voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "In the midst of the chaos, it seemed like we both understood who the person was beneath the facade we put on for the crowd.”

Jack comprehends the weight of your words, realizing that maybe, just maybe, It wasn't just one moment that "fucked you up," but rather a million things he never noticed right away.

“Jack?” You break him out of his headspace, patting the bed beside you. “You’re making this a million times worse just standing by the door looking like I’m killing you. “

Jack realizes he probably hasn’t moved an inch since you started speaking. So he swallows hard, takes a few hesitant steps toward the bed, and sits down. When he settles, you turn to face him and continue.

“It was my fault for getting attached to you so quickly," you sigh. “I think I knew it was too good to be true, and sex was all we would have. But I’d hoped that you were different from the way you looked at me; I’d hoped we’d fight against it, and somehow we’d end up together. “

Before he even knows what’s happening, his own tears are streaming down his face. He thought earlier, when he saw you cry, that nothing would hurt him more, but even though he thinks he’s going to die a lot when he’s with you, this might actually kill him.

A profound ache settles in his chest, intertwining with the shards of his own shattered heart. Your vulnerability cuts through the room, leaving him exposed and raw with emotions he didn’t even know he had. What makes everything worse? When you pause, noticing his tears, you grab his hand and intertwine your fingers through his.

“Anyway, after a while, I got really tired. Like all of a sudden, I was drained of everything I had. I was sick of trying to force something that just wasn't there. And after some major soul-searching and my friends helping me, it clicked. I had to remove my love for you. Tell myself that even though I thought you were everything, you weren’t. So I decided I needed to be done.”

Jack hangs on to every word.

“So I moved on, even though I kinda suck at it because look where I am. But I decided to finally try to allow my heart to let go, close this chapter of my life and start a new one.”

Jack's heart sinks as he listens to your painful admission. The grip of your intertwined fingers provides a fragile lifeline, a small, tenuous connection that somehow manages to offer a glimmer of comfort amidst his shattering soul.

Tears continue to flow out of both your eyes, intermingling with the unspoken words that Jack is trying so hard to find a way to say.

He knows beneath his own heartache; there is a sliver of understanding. He knows that sometimes, moving on is the only choice, even if it feels impossible. But he also knows that he loves you now, somehow even more than anything in the world, and he doesn’t know if he can live without you.

As silence stretches between you, Jack knows time is ticking, and he finally musters the strength to respond.

“I love you,” he whispers, admitting it openly to you for the first time. “I can't pretend that I don’t and that I can just walk away because, for that past half a year, you’ve been all I’ve been able to think about.“

His heart races in his chest, pounding with the force of his love for you. His voice quivers as he continues, desperate to convey the depth of his feelings for you.

“I am so sorry (Y/N), so fucking sorry that I didn’t see how you felt at the beginning. My life was a fucking mess. I hated hockey, I hated living here, and I hated myself. I only cared about a quick high to distract myself from my constant lows, and I couldn’t see anything past that, and I’m so so sorry.”

Jack tightens his grip on your hand, trying to bridge the distance that separates you. His eyes search yours, looking for signs of forgiveness and any chance he has for a future with you.

“You’re everything to me, and I’ve been trying to show you that, but clearly, we both just fucking suck at communication and feelings. But I want this (Y/N); I want you. More than anything.”

Tears are streaming heavily down both your faces, and Jack watches as you wipe them away with your free hand, gently sniffling. You’re both waiting, unsure of what to do next when you speak again.

“Well, this is not how I expected the night to go.” You try to joke, Jack letting out a small snort.

“I know, a lot of information just came to light.”

Jack glances at the clock and sees that it’s incredibly late, and when he peers outside his window, he sees that the city of Jersey is dead asleep, completely unaware of the mess unfolding in two of its inhabitants' lives.

“We should go to sleep, think about things.” Jack offers.

For the first time ever, when he’s offered you to stay, you do. You nod in agreement, wipe away the remnants of tears from your cheeks, and give a small, tired, and maybe still a little drunk smile. Both of you are emotionally drained, and the idea of sleep seems like paradise.

Jack helps you slide under the covers, tucking you in with gentle care for the second time tonight, but this time he feels an odd sense of clarity in understanding of you. He gets you settled, grabbing more water and anything else you could ever need before he moves to leave the room.

“You can stay, Jack; your couch sucks.”

Before he can stop himself, a laugh escapes him, and he steps back into the room. He isn’t sure if sleeping next to you is the best idea for his sake, but he also knows it would take a swat team to remove him now. Grabbing a few other things, he moves to the other side of the bed and settles in beside you, leaving a respectable distance between you for the moment.

His heart about stops, however, when your hands find his again as if you’re seeking comfort in the touch that connects you.

Jack's eyes grow heavy, and he’s fighting off the sleep demons when you take your hand out from his. For a moment, he feels a pang of loss when you pull away. But as if you’re trying to repair his broken heart, you gently shift closer to him. Jack wraps his arm around you instinctively, pulling you to his chest until your bodies are molded together, fitting perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle.

Jack has never felt more complete as he gently traces circles on your back, his touch soothing on your skin, healing the ache in his heart.

As the minutes tick past, Jack can beat your breathing steady out, and he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, a silent gesture of reassurance and affection for himself. He quickly feels himself falling away with the warmth of your body pressed against his and the immense amount of love that he has for you.

——————————————————-

When morning sunlight seeps through the curtains and almost blinds Jack, he awakens from the best sleep he’s ever had. His eyes peel open, and the events of last night flood his mind. He quickly turns, expecting to see you still by his side. But as reality sets in, his heart sinks when he realizes you're no longer there.

He sits up, his mind foggy with sleep, and rubs his eyes, desperately trying to shake off the sleepiness. He glances around the room and looks in the bathroom, searching for any sign of you, and that's when he notices a faint sound coming from the kitchen.

Curiosity tugs at him as he makes his way towards the kitchen, his unease ending as he finds you standing with your hands on your hips in front of his coffee maker. You’re still clad in his clothes, and you look so goddamn adorable; he wishes he could stay right here forever.

“Hey, morning, uh—,” you clear your throat, gesturing to the coffee pot. “Want some?”

Jack smiles and nods as you grab two cups. Seconds later, you place a steaming brew on one side of his table, and he sits behind it. He gives you a thank you as you fill your own cup, moving to sit down across from him.

You look up, meeting his gaze, and there's a hint of uncertainty in your eyes that cuts through him like a knife. He grows even more anxious when you take a deep breath and set your cup on the counter.

“I had a little time to think this morning,” you say softly. "I needed to think about the mess last night, which I’m really sorry about, by the way. I shouldn’t have blindsided you like that, but I’m not gonna lie, I’m glad I did because we’ve needed to talk for a while, and I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. But now is the time, and we can end this here.”

End this?

You take another deep breath. "Last night...everything we said, it made me realize that I don't think you love me, Jack. I think you love an idea of what we could be rather than what we are.”

“No,” he protests softly, "I don’t know what you mean.”

A sad smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you shake your head. "I think you need to understand what I do, Jack. We aren’t meant to be. If we were, we would’ve. I loved you once, Jack, with everything I had. But it's gone now, and I don't think it can come back without killing me. I can't keep holding onto something that isn’t there.”

“What about last night?” He chokes out. “You didn’t feel that?

There's a painful silence between you, filled. Jack can feel his world crumbling around him after it felt whole for the first time last night.

“I'm sorry, Jack," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "This past year, we’ve had some great nights, but I can’t keep doing this to myself. We aren’t good for each other, and I think you know that too.”

You grab his hand once more, giving it a quick squeeze. As you both sit there, hands entwined and hearts heavy, realization washes over Jack. You don’t feel the same as you did once, but it’s gone now. You’ve moved on, and he’s holding you here.

Jack has never experienced true heartbreak, but he guesses this is it because it feels like a thousand knives are piercing his soul, and numbness spreads through his body.

You both sit in silence for a while, lost in your own thoughts and emotions, when you finally break the silence.

“I want you to know that I genuinely care about you, and I always will.“ You manage a weak smile before getting up.

“I should go.” You say, moving to gather the few things you had with you the night before.

Jack wordlessly watches as you leave him, his body staying trapped in this seat. He waits, and a few minutes later, you come out dressed in the clothes you’d had on the night before. He watches as you pick up your heels, grab your phone, and cross the room once more to where he’s sitting.

You pause in front of him, your eyes searching his for a moment before you lean down and press a gentle kiss to his cheek. It's a bittersweet kiss, filled with heartbreaking emotions and the weight of what could have been.

With that, you offer him one last small smile, straightening up and turning away from him. You walk towards the door and open it, turning around one last time.

“Goodbye, Jack.”

The sentence is final, and a hollow feeling settles in his chest as the door shuts quietly behind you, signaling your last goodbye.

Let's just let it go

Jack is distracted, and it’s all your fault. Well, it is, but it isn’t. He shouldn’t blame you; he knows that’s not the mature thing to do. But he is a simple man, and it’s easier to say his game is off because of someone else rather than owning up to the fact that he’s struggling.

For the past two days, he can't focus on anything else but you during hockey practice. Every move he makes feels robotic as if he's going through the motions without actual purpose. He misses easy passes, shoots wide on every attempted goal, and falls on his ass at each free skate. Every time he finally gets in the right frame of mind, his thoughts drift back to you, and the cycle begins all over again.

It’s about an hour into morning practice when Jack feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns to see Luke, looking at him with concern and a hint of annoyance.

“You okay?" Luke asks, “You seem a little…off.”

Jack has two options, play it cool, or get defensive. He chooses option two.

“Fuck off, just had a rough couple days.”

Luke rolls his eyes, clearly unconvinced, but doesn’t push.

“Whatever you say.”

Jack lets out an annoyed huff as it’s his turn to drill, skating away from Luke and running through the play. He makes it most of the way through with ease, but when it’s time for him to shoot, it hits the boards about ten feet from where he aimed.

Frustration wells up inside as he watches the puck slide to a halt. He’s been playing terribly. His brother knows it, his team knows it, and now he does, and it's eating him alive. Jack mutters out a few under his breath and skates back to the line.

Luke, ever observant and fed up, skates back to Jack with new determination.

“So I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but snap out of it. You're better than this."

It’s tough love, and Jack's jaw tenses, his pride wounded a bit. He doesn't want to admit that a girl is causing his downfall, that your absence has left a void in his heart and made him suck at hockey.

“I’m fine,” Jack finally mutters, "I just... I have to figure things out.”

Luke claps him on the back hard and nods. “Good, just let it go.”

Just let it go.

Let me let you go

As if you dropped from the face of the earth, Jack hasn’t seen you. Not that he’s been looking. He hasn’t seen you at the bagel place, not at the bar, not at the library on your campus that he may have snuck into. You’re absolutely nowhere to be found.

He thinks you’re avoiding him, or maybe you just don’t care and forget he even existed.

Jack has no idea you’re in your own hell, going back and forth every day, debating if ending things was the right decision. You know it was, but it still hurts. You don’t check Instagram, you don’t watch hockey, and you stay away from all things that have to do with the boy you once loved.

Jack has no idea that you feel the heartbreak the same as him, and he has no idea that you watched him walk into the bagel place, head down, looking just as dejected as you.

He has no idea that you suddenly told your friend you weren't hungry or that you went home and cried again because even though you’re healing, you’re moving on, you still think about all the things that happened and all the things that could have been.

Jack has no idea it was just as hard for you to walk out the door, and that letting him go hurts like hell.

Quiet when I'm comin' home, and I'm on my own

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

*two months later*

Two months have passed since you walked out of Jacks's life, and every minute he thought it’d get easier, it hasn’t.

But, as his mom, dad, and brothers have been telling him ever since he spilled the reason why he’s been a complete and utter mess, he has to move on with his life.

So, slowly but surely, he regained his focus and got back to his regular routine. He drowned his thoughts in the rink, and hockey, once again, became his refuge. Providing him with a sense of purpose and a distraction from the pain that weighs on his heart daily.

He still thinks about you every day, though. Thinks about the good memories and our bad, the inside jokes from the late nights, and all the what-ifs.

He wishes he could move on, he really does, but you invade his mind when he least expects it. He could be doing anything, and suddenly he’s daydreaming about you. But finally, he’s learning to keep those thoughts at bay, push them aside and bury them deep when they try to surface.

He knows that suppressing his feeling is bad and that, eventually, it will all bubble to the surface. But it’s easier this way to pretend you don’t matter and try to move on.

One day, after a particularly grueling practice, Jack decides to treat Luke to his favorite bagel place he’s been avoiding. It’s been months since he’s seen you, and what are the odds of seeing you there?

Apparently, really fucking high.

As Jack and Luke enter the bagel place, the familiar smell makes him slightly ache; he tells Luke about his favorite things on the menu. It isn’t until they order, step back and wait that his heart skips a beat and then stands entirely still.

Jack hears you before he sees you, your perfect laugh echoing behind him, his heart melting as you hiccup a bit, continuing to have trouble breathing between chuckles.

His breath catches in his throat, and he doesn’t want to look, but he turns around anyway. There you are, sitting in your favorite corner table. You look a little bit different but still just as beautiful, and every bit the woman he is still hopelessly in love with.

He almost lets a smile cross his face when it’s wiped away before it can even form.

You’re not alone.

You’re sitting across from a guy whose face he can’t see. He’s clad in a tight black t-shirt that shows off his broad shoulders and a backward cap that Jack knows is your favorite way men wear their hats. You’re laughing again at something the guy says, leaning away from the table slightly and rolling your eyes. Even though you’re playing to look annoyed, he can see how your eyes light up with genuine amusement.

Jack feels a million things at once, primarily pain, and it’s coming from his chest. His heart, after repairing itself bit by bit for two long months, is being ripped open all over again.

He genuinely feels bile rise in his throat when Luke nudges him, "Hey, are you alright?"

Jack is utterly speechless, and he can’t even begin to compose himself as Luke follows his stare, his eyes landing on you.

They both watch as the guy at your table leans in closer, his hands finding yours and intertwining them with his own. Jack's stomach churns again as you smile, blush, and laugh again.

Jack has to fight to keep upright, and he knows he has to get the hell out of here. He can't bear to watch any longer, to witness the love of his life be happy with someone else while he’s still broken.

Not waiting for anything, Jack breaks for the door and out into the open air, trying to get more oxygen to his brain.

The next twenty minutes are a blur, and they make their way back to Jacks's apartment. He’s silent, replaying the vision of you with someone else over and over again. He’s hurting harder than he ever thought possible. He felt he was moving on, making progress, forgetting about you. But seeing you with someone else has reopened the wound he tried so hard to heal.

Sitting alone in his room, Jack knows now that pretending you don't matter and burying his feelings deep inside is only a temporary fix. The harsh truth is that he still loves you,

and It kills him that you’re finally moving on.

He should be happy, you’re happy, and when you love someone, that’s all you want. It is for them to be happy. You got what you wanted, a clean break from him, and you found a way to repair yourself from the damage that the relationship has caused you.

An hour later, Luke walks into the room, making sure he’s still there.

“Are you gonna make it?”

It’s a simple question with an extremely difficult answer. He knows deep down that he needs to let you go, focus on himself, and let you be happy without him.

He owes it to himself to try to heal, focus on other things, and hope that one day, you’ll just be someone he used to know.

But for now, he’ll settle for the heartbreak, let his heart mend at its own pace, and think about you. For a little while longer, you’ll be the girl he’s in love with. The girl who made him realizes love is real. The girl who taught him love is cruel. The girl he’s trying to move on from, and one day will, but for now, you’ll be the girl who means everything to him.

“Yeah Lukey, I’ll be okay.”

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

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itsjusthockey · 11 months

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Unpublished When the Partys Over Pt. 2 - Jack Hughes

Actual Pt.2

Here is where it started, let me know if you would've liked this

But nothin' is better sometimes

Once we've both said our goodbyes

The sentence smacks Jack harder than any hockey hit ever has, and even though you’re the one who’s wasted, he suddenly feels like he wants to puke or pass out.

He doesn’t, though; instead, he freezes by the door, trying to register if he heard you correctly or if being around you makes him crazy. He concentrates hard for a moment, taking a shaky breath and letting it go. He knows you're drunk, incredibly so, and you probably have no idea what you're saying.

He knows he should walk out, pretend that he didn’t hear you, and hope he can bring it up in the morning over breakfast, but before he can retreat into the safety of his living room, you speak again.

“It’s funny; you used to mean everything to me.”

Jack's blood runs cold, and all hope of escape vanishes as he turns slowly to face you, his eyes falling on your figure, seeing a particular vulnerability in your gaze, but even more so, you look heartbroken.

“Now, though,” You let out a bitter chuckle. “You’re nothing.

Two words.

Two little words that slip past your lips like venom have him questioning everything he thinks he knows about himself. He thinks he’s a good friend, brother, teammate. He thinks he’s decently good-looking, good at hockey, and able to make anyone around him feel something good. Yet suddenly, he’s never felt smaller.

His heart cracks, breaking into a thousand tiny pieces, and his world feels like it's burning down around him, and the woman he’s so desperately in love with is holding the matches and watching him burn.

You stare at him with an unreadable expression. He knows he has to say something, retaliate back, and do fucking anything rather than just standing here, but his mind is just replaying those two words over and over, and he’s at a loss for how to respond.

He feels like he will be crushed under the weight of what you’ve thrown at him. He feels way too many things at once. Anger, hurt, confusion, but above all else, a desperate longing to understand why you think this way. Why the woman he has been chasing after, trying so fucking hard to get you to love him back, feels that he’s absolutely nothing.

Jack fights to regain his composure and tries to swallow the bitter taste forming in his mouth. He knows he shouldn’t do this, fight with you, or do whatever is about to happen, but he also feels like he needs some clarity, and he won’t get it if he walks away.

He swallows his pride and returns you’re hard stare, taking a step forward. You stare him up and down as he steps closer, and you’re quick to swing your legs from under the duvet and get out of his bed to meet him. When your feet hit the floor, you stumble a bit toward him, and he wants to punch himself in the face because the minute you stumble, he moves to catch you.

“I’m fine, Jack.” You hiss, steading yourself.

Anger flares in his chest. “Clearly, you’re not fine.”

The intensity of your stare-down crackles in the air as Jack's anger intertwines with his concern for your well-being. He wants to fight, talk, and do anything to understand what’s going through your head because he has never been more confused in his life.

But as he looks at you, swaying slightly on your feet, the realization hits him like a punch to the gut. You're too drunk to have this conversation, and he won’t fight with you when you’re not sober. He's not that kind of guy, and It’s not worth it. He knows that engaging in an argument in this state would only result in further hurt, and all he wants for you is to go to sleep because even though you’re hurting him, he can’t help but prioritize you.

“(Y/N), let's not do this now, let’s just go to sleep.”

Jack's voice is gentle, and his gaze is soft as he looks at you. You’re slightly shaking; he doesn’t know if it’s from the cold or possibly anger, but when you look back at him and nod, your eyes filled with tears, he knows he’s making the right choice.

He takes a step back, as if he is surrendering, and puts some distance between the two of you.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

With that, Jack turns away, trying to leave behind the emotions that have consumed the room. Walking away from you hurts more than anything, but he knows that it's the right thing to do for both of you.

He walks down the small hallways to the living room, thankful that his couch is comfortable. He knows it’s going to be a long night, and sleep isn’t an option. A thousand thoughts swirl in his mind, and he has to get them straight because in just a few hours, he’s going to have the fight of his life.

—————————————————-

Jack wakes up when the bright light streaming through his windows nearly blinds him. He's on the couch, sore as hell, and very confused. However, the confusion lasts mere seconds before he remembers last night. Everything floods back, every painful second.

He lays there for a minute, listening to see if you’re awake. Half of him wants you to be, but the other half wishes you’d sleep forever, and he wouldn’t have to face your cold stare again. It’s silent in the apartment; the only sounds coming from the city of Jersey outside. Jack says a thankful prayer that Luke is gone and that none of his teammates with spare keys decided to crash his place after a night out.

He stares at the ceiling for a bit longer, contemplating getting up to get some water because he’s feeling a slight headache coming on, but he’s scared, scared that once he makes a sound, you’ll wake up.

Instead, he checks his phone, it’s early, and he sees a few unanswered texts from his brothers and mom. He knows he should answer, but he feels like he is trapped in a bubble, and he won’t escape until he understands what went so wrong in the relationship he has with you.

He lays there for fifteen minutes before he gets up, groggily making his way to the kitchen but being quieter than he ever has been. He knows it’s only a matter of time, and every minute that ticks by, he’s growing more anxious.

He feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest when he hears shuffling come from into his bedroom, it’s quiet as if you’re being careful too, but it’s there. He knows he has minutes to prepare himself, so he gathers his thoughts, puts on some coffee, and builds up his walls.

They come crashing down the second you enter the kitchen. You walk in, clad in his sweatpants and sweatshirt, and his defenses crumble. You look so god damn fucking adorable, and he wishes that every morning he could wake up to this sight.

That is, of course, until he meets your face.

When you lock your eyes, he sees nothing but regret. You look as though you’re retracing every step of how you came to this point, and you hate each move you make.

“Uh—” Jack clears his throat, trying not to make this any worse, and gestures to the coffee pot. “Want some?”

You nod your head, and Jack can see you bite the inside of your cheek, and he can feel his throat tighten up as he grabs two cups. Seconds later, he places a steaming brew on one side of his table, and you take a seat behind it. You give him a small thank you as you sit down, and as if to alleviate some of the tension in the air, you take a sip of your drink, and Jack takes that as his cue to sit down.

As soon as he sits, the tension in the air rises, and Jack can feel his heart starting to beat faster.

“I’m sorry about last night,” You blurt out, and a chill runs down Jacks's spine. “The whole night was really fucking unfair of me, and I feel terrible.

Jack swallows hard when you meet his stare. Your eyes hold the weight of a thousand apologies, and the fact that there is no wavering hesitation in your voice, he knows you mean every word.

“(Y/N), it’s fin—“ He starts, but as soon as he opens his mouth, you shut him down.

“It’s not fine, what I said was cruel, and I didn’t mean it. But I’m not going to lie; I’m glad I said it because we need to talk,” you pause for a breath. “We’ve needed to talk for a while, and I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. But now is the time, and we can end this here.”

“What do you mean?” Jack speaks slowly, trying to wrap his head around what you’re saying.

“This,” You say sternly, “Whatever we’ve been doing for the past year, it’s done.”

Done.

Jack is left speechless as he rubs his face with his hands, he is not enjoying himself having this conversation with you, and you can see almost every emotion that crosses his face.

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