Crashing. (A JSE×reader fanfic)

Regrets

  August 21st, 9:10 p.m.

The cold concrete of the building seeps through the back of his shirt, sending a shiver down his spine. He dangles one leg over the side of the wall but bends the other, presssing his back more firmly against the building, willing the cold away. He leans his head back, against it, his eyes scouring the sky for stars, but finding very few with the light pollution of LA.

  He squeezes his eyes shut and balls his fists. He knows goddamn well that her and Mark have never had anything going on. He has no excuse as to why the accusation fell out of him so blindly. Its not as if he walked in on them making out or clothless. They werent doing anything horrible.

  Maybe it was just seeing someone, anyone, on top of her where he belongs. Perhaps it was hearing her laugh so easily. Isnt she just as heartbroken as he is? Or is she happier without him there? Maybe she really did want him to leave after all, and this is the proof.

  But the look on her face when she seen him... Jack cant deny the joy that clouded over her expression when they made eye contact. Nor can he ignore the heartache that took over it once he denied her a hug. If she really wanted him gone, would either of those be there?

  His mind drags the memory of Mark on top of her, joking about size and sex as he had her pinned under him. His knuckles crack as his fist balls further. He wants to stop the jealousy raging around in him, but nothing he does pushes away the idea that if he hadnt walked in, anything could have come out of that situation.

  Maybe James was right after all, and maybe so was his worst fear. You could have been bedding any guy willing while he moped around in Ireland. His heart sinks into his shoes and he grits his teeth. It couldnt be, right? She is just as broken up about everything as he is. Right? Her and Mark were only messing around, and no one else had been taking his place since. He has to convince himself of this to push away the drilling pain in his chest.

  He knows there was nothing serious about the moment, but it doesnt stop the storm in him. Its supposed to be him making her laugh when it comes to sex jokes. Its supposed to be him who has the privledge above all others to see how her body looks from that angle. Its supposed to be him to touch her in those places to make her laugh. He grits his teeth, trying to convince himself that things looked worse than they were.

  He had accepted that Mark was her best friend from the day she told him. That is fine, he has no issue with the two of them being friends. But what if all this time, they were secretly more, right under his nose? He shakes the thought away for the hundredth time, forcing himself to focus on the ugly graffiti scrawled across the wall next to the one he was perched on.

  He came back to make things right, and instead, he lost his cool again and created a fictional horror out of two friends making jokes. How is he supposed to be forgiven now?

  He closes his eyes but quickly reopens them when he reimagines the pain in her eyes when he laid into her. She really does have the kicked puppy look, and it fucks him up. Every time he thinks of it all he wants to do is reverse time and throw his arms around her instead. He isnt entirely sure if things can ever be fixed now.

  Footsteps echo their way from around the bend of the building tentatively, pulling him out of his miserable thoughts. He turns his head to the direction of the noise, expecting a cop or some homeless guy to emerge from around the corner.

"Jack...?" The soft call of his name bounces around the concrete to his ears, and he sighs to himself. What a clever girl to know exactly where he'd run off to.