Jack Gilinsky Imagines

No Words

Your Point of View:

"Are you kidding me, Jack?" I yell, slamming the door behind me.

"What the hell did you want me to do?" He yells right back, kicking his shoes off hard enough so they leave divots in the wall. "It's not like I could've just told him 'I'm leaving'!"

"And why the hell not?" I throw my jacket carelessly onto the kitchen counter. We really shouldn't be in the kitchen because the kitchen is where the knives are.

"You've been to one of my fights before. Hell, you've even met Saul. You know how he operates." Jack comes into the kitchen and wraps his fingers tightly around the light wooden counter, most likely so he doesn't do something he doesn't want to do.

"Take off your shirt. I want to see them again." I order, crossing my arms and giving him a stern look, like do it now or else. He sighs deeply and comes to stand in front of me with a downcast expression. He raises his arms over his head and pulls his shirt at the nape of his neck. He tosses the black thin cloth to his feet.

Even though I saw him receive them, they look so much angrier a few hours later. My sharp intake of breath is not missed by both of us and I have to cover my mouth with my hand to keep the sobs in. His eyes are still downcast, almost as if he can't stand to look at me when he knows we're both hurting.

The bruises are an angry purple and are dotted across his chest, shoulders, abdomen, and back. His expression is full of pain and remorse where he can't even look at me.

Oh God.

The silence is breaking my heart. We're both trying to rectify the situation in our heads, but there are no words that can be spoken to fix this. There are no words given to make me feel like he deserved this. There are no words able to be said to make me feel better.

The tears pricking my eyes a few moments ago are falling down my cheeks. The anger we both had minutes ago diminished the moment his bruises were revealed.

"Do they hurt?" I ask in a small voice while my feet propel me forward towards him. I place my hands gingerly on his chest. He exhales a sharp shaky breath from the contact and finally, finally, he pulls his eyes to mine. They're filled with pain and anger, but mostly anger, although it's dwindling down very quickly.

"Not anymore." His hands are clenched into fists so I know he's lying. He wouldn't be hurting if it wasn't for Saul. We wouldn't even be having this conversation if it wasn't for Saul.

"Liar." I lightly poke one of the bruises on his chest to make a point. He winces.

Not only is he lying straight to my face but he forgot that he's readable when he looks in my eye.

"I was protecting you." He attempts, and my eyes roll.

"No you weren't. You were protecting yourself from getting anymore hurt."

"I was protecting you by protecting me because if Saul got wind that I wanted to leave, he would threaten me with my loved ones to force me to stay." What Jack just said shocks me. I knew that Jack wanted to leave but what I didn't know what that Saul threatened me in order for him to stay.

"I didn't know that." This revelation has me wanting to cry all over again. The sheer fact that Jack fought to protect me was completely, utterly, truly a stupid act on his part.

"I don't need protecting like I'm some damned damsel in distress." I retract my hands from his chest but before I get very far, his hands grab mine. I turn his palm-side down and I take a glance at his knuckles. It doesn't matter right now the reasons how he got out as long as he did. With this thought in mind, I take his wrist and lead him to the bathroom.

He doesn't protest when I order him to sit on the bathroom counter while I fix his knuckles and bandage his cuts.

"Why do you care so much about me?" He asks when I step between his jean-clad thighs and grab the peroxide.

I pour the hydrogen peroxide onto a sterilized cloth before I answer him to give me a chance to think of a good answer. "Because I love you and I knew what I signed up for the moment I saw you in that ring."

He chuckles, eyes hazing over as he remembered the first time we met. He was in a head-lock with his cheek pushed onto the floor when we made eye contact. I was standing on the outskirts of the ring, and because it was raised off the floor, we were practically nose-to-nose. He once told me - after our second date - that I was the reason he won that fight. He said that my eyes had this determining look in them that he claimed was all it took to give him back the leverage in the fight.

He takes my hand that's not dressing his wounds and threads his fingers through mine. "I also knew what you were signing up for which is one of the reasons why I didn't want you to come. You could be used to force me to kill, you know that right?"

Once again, the air has changed between us. "I know." I say softly and place my hand on his cheek in comfort.

"If Saul saw you there tonight..." Jack trails off and then blinks the thoughts away. He doesn't need to finish that sentence for me to understand where his train of thought was traveling.

"Let's not talk about Saul anymore tonight. He already puts a bad taste in my mouth." I dismiss him with a wave of my hand.

"You're telling me." He chuckles and retracts his hand only to place them on my hips. The warmth spreads from his fingertips to mine and all the way down to my toes. Apparently it likes to pool in my cheeks whenever Jack touches me.

He pulls me forward by them and wraps his arms around my waist in a tight hold, almost reassuringly. "I'm not going anywhere." I say, giggling, but his face is stern and serious.

"I know. But that doesn't help the thoughts go away."

"Listen to me." I grab his face between my palms and force him to look at me. "Are you done fighting?"

"Yes."

"Are you free from fighting?"

"Yes." He looks confused given his furrowed eyebrows. This is going somewhere, I promise.

"Are you hopelessly in love with me?"

"Yes." He doesn't hesitate to answer.

"Then I'm absolutely, positively, definitely not going anywhere. Now tell your thoughts to put that in their juice box and suck it."

"You, my love, are one of a kind." He unwraps one arm to cup my cheek with it.

I laugh, glad the elephant in the room was addressed and hopefully resolved. "I'll try not to tell the others."