bad expectations | jfg

epilogue ⇒ part 1

A/N there will be a part two of the epilogue. yay.

December 24th, 2018

We were just now setting up our Christmas tree.

Neither of us really knew what we were doing. My dad had always paid people to set up ours when I was younger and Jack never bothered to buy one for his old house.

We both decided to purchase one, a fake one, but it was something. London was to blame for putting us in the holiday mood, it was so pretty around this time.

Freezing, but pretty.

"These ornaments are so ugly." Jack mumbles, reaching up and sliding it on one of the leafy sticks, the sleeve of his Christmas sweater rolling up in the process.

"Not as ugly as your jumper" I murmur.

"Jumper?" He laughs and moves his head so he can get a better look at me, being on the other side of the tree, "You're not English."

"Leave me alone. And I bought ten ornament packages at the dollar store, they aren't ugly."

Jack stiffens his laugh through his lips with a roll of his eyes, not saying anything else for a few moments. Though he made a big deal about the Christmas music and how "stupid" it is, he mumbles the song to himself anyways, absentmindedly.

I stare at him, looking at how his brown eyes turn so much lighter from the twinkling lights on the trees and how he focuses on making sure the ornament doesn't fall and shatter everywhere.

"What?" He whines and moves further behind the tree so I don't see him, "Stop staring at me."

"Since when do you sing?"

"I don't." It's amusing just to hear his bashful voice and not his crimson face.

"Sing louder." I step forward to see him again and his grin widens, moving away from me.

We continue like this for hours, bantering back and forth and chasing each other around the tree like four year olds. Jack actually broke a glass ornament in the process of trying to trip me and without any thought process, picked me up, put me on the couch and made sure I didn't step on anything.

It was things like that that reminded me we were more than best friends who teased each other all the time, because that's all we did those days; it was weird if we weren't acting like five year olds who had crushes on each other.

That night was the first time I ever saw Jack use a broom and dustpan.

And I knew it would probably be the last.

"Maybe we'll have a big collection of ornaments in a couple years, and our tree won't look like it was bought from a dollar store." I come to my own conclusions as he sits on the white couch, slinging one arm around my waist.

We continue to look at the bright tree, it does look rather cheep; It's plastic and the ornaments are all the same four colors, and it has white lights. But, it is our first time.

"A couple of years, huh?" He mumbles and I look at him. His eyes are on the floor, lost in thought but his lips have traces of a faded smile.

"You're not tired of me yet, are you?" I ask.

He turns his head to me and his small simper turns into a big grin, the crinkles in his cheeks that I have become attached to indenting and the the light in his eyes that I will never get tired of radiating.

"No, baby. Not yet." He squeezes my hip.

I smile and look back at the tree. Thoughts passing my mind at how long the two of us really will stay in this apartment, will we ever move? I have the money to, but I don't think I want to. I've grown adored to the brick walls and artsy looking feel. And in the year we've lived in in, we had lots of memories in it. From trying to bake things in the kitchen, to blasting old records, making our ears hurt, all the way to having sex on every surface under the roof.