Impractical Jokers Preferences (Currently Updating)

#60: He Hits You (Part 2)

Sal: "Stop walking away from me!" Sal shouted, trying to keep calm but failing miserably. You could tell the buzz from the alcohol was wearing off quickly, but not completely as he struggled to keep up with your fast past, tripping over chairs and stumbling past other people in the bar. "(Y/N), please! Stop!" You quickly turned to face him, not caring about the tears rushing down your face. "What the heck do you need to say to me?" you cried. "I'm so sorry," he breathed, his voice quieter now. "Sorry isn't going to work this time, Sal. This is over," you said, waving your hand back and forth in between your two bodies. "What... What do you mean?" he whispered, his angered state completely washed away now, and his eyes becoming glossy. You paused for a moment, shaking your head, until you found the right words. "I love you, Sal. But... This won't work. You hit me... You hit me," you repeated as the words really sunk in and you began to sob harder. Sal's face mirrored yours as tears fell down his pink cheeks. "I'm sorry," he whispered again. "I know." "I'm sorry." "I know." Then you left him broken hearted in the bar's parking lot.

Brian (Q): Sixty-three deleted text messages. Twenty-nine ignored calls. Nineteen heartbreaking voicemails that you didn't have the strength to listen to. All from him. You scrolled through the call log on your phone, sighing as his name was repeated on your screen again and again. You sniffled, throwing your phone on the guest bed before making your way out of the room for the first time in what felt like months, only the reality was that it had only been two days. You trudged down the stairs, hair a mess and positive that your face was red and puffy. You hadn't stopped crying since you arrived at your best friend's flat. When you entered the kitchen, you're eyes widened. There, at the kitchen table, sat Brian, hands entwined around a mug of coffee and staring at nothing certain. His head shot up when he heard you clear your throat. "(Y/N)—" "Where is she?" you interrupted him, by no means wanting to start a conversation. "At the store," he began, and it was then you could hear the strain in his voice, like he was doing the best he could to not completely fall apart right in front of you. "She invited me over... To talk, I think. She said you weren't doing well." "I'm fine," you snapped, reaching up to smooth down your uncombed hair. He paused, before speaking. "I'm not. I... What I did that night... It was horrible. I should have never laid my hands on you, or even yelled at you at all. I should have given you an explanation instead of going off like I did." Now he was crying. He tried to hide it, but you could tell. "I have never hated myself more than I do right now, and I want you to know how sorry I am. I love—No, need. I need you, (Y/N). And I know you probably can't forgive me, but I needed you to know that. So..." He waited a moment for you to say something—anything—but you didn't. You remained still, staring at the floor. "...I'll go." With that, he stood, and began making his way past you, before you rested your hand of his arm. "Wait," you whispered. "I need you too, as much as I hate to admit it, I do. But that doesn't excuse what you did. But... I'm willing to try to get past it," you said, watching as his broken features lightened and a smile broke out onto his face. "Really?" he gasped. "Well, it'll take some time, but yes. Really," you smiled, hugging him. "I'm so sorry. I love you, (Y/N)," he whispered. You nodded, closing your eyes and nuzzling into his chest.

James (Murr): Nearly five hours had passed until you finally built up the emotional strength to rise from your safe place on the floor and drag your aching body downstairs. And it wasn't aching because of your back that had so violently hit the wall; it was your heart that carried the most burden. Shuffling down the stairs and into the living area, you suddenly heard small, broken sobs coming from the couch. Creeping toward the weeping figure, you whispered, "James?" His head shot up, revealing two red, puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. "(Y/N)?" he breathed, his voice cracking. You nodded, but didn't dare to go near him. You wanted to, but fear struck your body and you found yourself unable to move. He repeated your name, before standing and walking toward you carefully. You stumbled back. Sorrow struck his features as realization sunk in. "You're afraid of me... Aren't you?" he whispered, and you were positive you wouldn't have heard him had it not been so eerily quiet in your flat. You didn't say a word. Then, he choked on a sob, and started crying in front of you. You didn't want to be afraid of him, but you couldn't help it. However, the mere thought of him upset broke your heart even more. Hesitantly, you crept forward, delicately wrapping him in your arms. He melted into your embrace, crying heavily on your shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he whimpered. You reassuringly rubbed his back, and you both knew that somehow you would make it through this.

Joe: After what felt like hours of crying on the bathroom floor, you gave yourself a small pep-talk and stood to examine yourself in the mirror. Just what you thought. Smudged mascara, swollen eyes, and the evident red mark across your cheek. You whimpered, lightly touching the soon-to-be-bruise with your cold fingertips. Emerging the bathroom, you ran as fast as you could to your bedroom, praying to God that Louis was well gone by now. You opened the door, and felt your heart sink when you saw him, sitting on the edge of the bed, deep in thought. He looked up as he heard the door open. "(Y/N), I'm such an idiot. Forgive me?" he asked. You were shocked. "F-Forgive you? Joe, you hit me! I can't just let this go, this is a big deal!" you yelled, fear suddenly replaced with anger. "I—" he began, but you cut him off. "No, listen to me. You can't just call yourself an idiot and expect my forgiveness. You have to find a better way to apologize if you ever want to see me again, because that won't cut it." He closed his gaping mouth, and nodded quickly. "Let me make it up to you," he finally said. You narrowed your eyes. "How?" "Um... I don't know. I'll think of something amazing. Just... I can't lose you, okay? Please, just give me a chance. Don't give up on us just yet." You sighed. "Fine. One chance, Joe, that's all you get." He smiled. "Thank you." He hugged you tightly, and despite your pain and anger, you couldn't help but smile a little bit.