bad expectations | jfg

49

After going to Jack's hotel, I couldn't stop crying in my bed. It was just a bunch of mix emotions: I was upset, I was angry, but most of all, I felt humiliated. I had built up the courage to tell Jack something that I wasn't planning to at all when he first came to New York. What I did was originally the last thing I wanted from all of this, but I physically couldn't help myself.

If I had waited any longer and missed the chance of being with him again, I would just feel guilty after he left. That's what hurts the most, he's going to leave with knowing that I'm the pathetic girl who grew feelings for him again.

I suppose he left me for a reason last year, he really was done feeling things for me and now that I denied he ever did, here I am, pathetically sobbing in my bed.

He said he wanted to make things okay by coming here but he must have known that it would do just the opposite. That's just how we are, that's how we always were. We really are like fire and rain and it doesn't make sense when we're together, so why does it feel so good? Why do I miss the taste of his mouth on mine more than anything else that I can't have? Why do I want him to hug me and tell me that it will be alright?

"You were not as broken as me."

If he was more upset about everything last year than I was then why is this happening? Why am I the one hurting? He seems to just continuously beat my heart down and now I don't know if I can hold it up any longer.

It's been four hours and Jack J hasn't called or texted me either. He must know by now what happened, Jack G must have been laughing when he told him about what I did. I can't help but hope maybe Johnson stuck up for me and that's exactly why I'm staring at my phone or waiting for the knock on my door. I would never want to be the reason that Jack and Jack fight but fighting and sticking up for another friend are two different things.

As soon as I begin thinking of my only friend, the doorbell rings throughout my apartment, and my blood runs cold.

I instantly sit up in my bed and wager everything in my head. Oh no.

I can't help but pray it's Johnson but the leftover common sense in me tells me it's Jack G. No one would come to my apartment after hours besides either of them and I know it's most likely Jack G because it's like him to come and say sorry. He's coming to say something like, "I'm sorry. I don't want to leave on the wrong foot." I know it.

I know how he feels all too well and I don't need it right now. If he does apologize, I'll close the door in his face and belittle him just like he always has done to me. He doesn't deserve another chance at friendship, even though I was the one that screwed it up this time.

No. I didn't screw anything up, I told him how I felt and he denied me in the worst way he could, it's not my fault. It's his fault for leading me on to believe he felt the same way and it's his fault for making me feel so small in the city that made me feel so big.

I walk across my living room while bringing the sleeves of my sweatshirt up to wipe every single thing left on my face. He probably thinks I was weeping over him, which I was, but I don't want to give me the satisfaction that he means that much to me. I grab onto my door, "fuck you, Jack." That's what I'm going to say to him.

The confidence I had built up moments before opening the door completely crashed on top of me, hard. My heart fell to my stomach when all that caught my eye was Jack's tear stained cheeks and red eyes. His eyelids drooped lower than they naturally do and my words were completely lost at this sight of him; There was no point in me looking for them because there was no chance in finding them. He was breathing heavily and his nose was red as well, obviously from wiping the hell out of it.