Keanu Reeves/ John Wick one shots

Easy

Yet another break-up fic because I heard a few break-up songs recently and this idea popped up. The title hones it name from a song a from a few years ago of the same name.

***

Keanu's POV

There she was, looking as beautiful as she usually did. Or maybe even more. It has been exactly three weeks since we've broken up, ending things with her crying and me pretending that I didn't care. Before I did it, breaking up with her seemed like the right thing, we were getting too close too fast and I wasn't sure if I was ready for something so......committed. Though, in retrospect, I probably could have chosen a better time, perhaps when we weren't doing press for a new movie, one that we did together. Which meant that even though we were no longer seeing each other, we still saw each other almost everyday. Including today. Or rather, tonight.

All day we had been occupied with interviews, paired with different cast mates so I had hardly caught the slightest glimpse of her. But tonight, we had a rare night off and a few members of the cast and crew had decided to gather at a club in central France. Upon arrival, smaller groups had broken off, I had settled myself on a rounded booth along with our director and some others. Y/n on the other hand was seated on stool at a table on the other side of the room with some people from hair and make and some of the cast. I have been trying to ignore her, but ever so often, I pick up the sound of her laughter, even if the sound of everything else should be drowning it out. She is a sight to behold, her make up is perfectly done, not too much, but still there and she's wearing a short grey dress that glitters against the low lighting. I'm trying to remember if I've ever seen her in it, but can't. It must be new. On a night like this on she might have been glued to my side, laughing at my jokes. 

I internally shake my head, reminding myself to focus on the company I actually have. You broke up with her, remember.

Y/n's POV

From where I'm sitting, I can see him. Almost. Well, I can see his side, sitting at the end of the booth with his friends. Frankly, I have no idea why I agreed to go out tonight. At first I had told myself that it was because I needed a night to unwind, but I knew then, and I still do now, that it was only because I knew he would be here too. I wanted to see him. And moreover, I subconsciously needed him to see me have a good time, prove that I'm okay without him. Which was hard to do since he's barely looking in my direction. Worst yet, he's wearing my favorite shirt of his, a navy blue button up. He has paired it with a leather jacket and jeans. Its almost as if he is trying to make me miss him more than I already am. 

Right now, I am seated amongst some of my friends from set, trying to laugh at jokes that I'm  barely hearing. I'm also trying to discreetly steal glances at my recent ex, totally because of my sadistic reasoning of wanting him to see me happy when I should be hurting and absolutely nothing else. Right.  

By now I'm in a couple drinks too deep and starting to feel the welcome buzz of the alcohol when one of our male co stars, Jack, comes around to tap me on my shoulders and whisper in my ear. I brush my hair behind my ear and pretend to seem interested. "Why don't we hit the dance floor, Y/n?" He smells of way too expensive cologne, alcohol and desperation. Still, I have a part to play. 

I bat my lashes and whisper my reply; "Sure." He holds out his hand for me and without hesitation, I down the rest of my vodka tonic and let him lead me to the other dancers. Coincidently, near where Keanu and his friends were sitting. The song playing is a recent sensual pop song and Jack's hands find my hips, guiding me closer. We dance close to each other and I know already that tomorrow there is going to be some ridiculous headline somewhere, telling the world that I've already gotten over Keanu. That would be a lie, but it'll be good for my ego. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully . I wrap my arms around Jack's neck, trying to get into the dance. 

The song ends and a slower one starts. This one more romantic. Jack pulls me a little closer so our bodies are practically pressed together. I can feel his hands sliding lower but I don't protest. If I try really hard, and push the nagging thoughts of Keanu out of my mind, I find myself kind of enjoying this. Jack is attractive. Tall, has that that kind of hair cut that looks best tousled, perfect bone structure. I know for a fact that he used to model for some popular agency or the other before he began acting and also that he's one of the many obsessions of teenagers. A heart-throb is what they probably call him. We're about the same age. Yes, he's attractive, unless you count his excessive overuse of cologne, that's a little off putting. If I base this whole interaction on his looks though, this whole experience might be a whole lot better. 

Keanu's POV

It was hard to ignore her before and now it's even harder since she's starting to cozy up to one of our co workers, Jack. I like to think of myself as a decent person, not overly judgmental, but sitting here, watching the woman that I'm in love with get close to someone else sucks. And for that reason, above many others, Jack is an asshole with muscles and she can do way better. Was I better though? I broke her heart. Or at least I thought I did, now it seems that the only person with a broken heart is me. There, I admitted it.

Still, she looks so happy, pressed to his chest, his arms around her. They look so natural together, they're around the same age. A lot of people might say they make a cute couple. I'm not a lot of people. I'm the man who wishes that he were there instead of Jack. I finish the rest of my drink and order another. At the bar, there's a bartender, average height, short red hair, attractive. Every time I go there she keeps trying to make small talk. At first I thought she was just an excited fan, then she offered to 'show me around the city' after her shift. I'm not really interested. After all, I'll be too busy pining after my ex. But now, watching Y/n dance with someone else, I'm thinking that I should be interested. I was the one that broke up with her. It's only logical that I move on too, right? Even if I don't want to.

Straightening my back, I toss back the rest of my new drink, so I'll have a reason to go back to the bar, and hopefully drunk enough to not feel so bad about this, and walk back to the bar to tell the cute bartender that we should meet after her shift. She's excited. To excited, but I ignore it. Her name is Elle, and her shift ends in the next fifteen minutes. Now I have fifteen minutes to finish the two fingers of whiskey that I've just bought. 

***

When Elle and I walk out of the bar, Jack and Y/n are already standing on the pavement, hand in hand. The pang of jealousy that stabs me in the chest feels like a real blade. They aren't paying attention to us because they're caught up whispering to each other. She's wearing his coat and its almost swallowing her up. A cool breeze blows and Jack uses the moment to gently push hair out of her face. Is she blushing? That's it alcohol, it has to be. Or she blushed. She likes him? 

I can't seem to tear my eyes of them. Until I absolutely have to when a black jeep pulls up and they both get in. I want to stay and watch until it disappears from my sight and maybe longer. Elle tugs at my arm though, encouraging me towards her car.

It should be easy, I broke up with her. I should want her to be happy, because I love her. They say that when you love someone, you should be happy even if their happiness isn't you. But those things can't be the truth, this is hard and I hate seeing her happy with someone thats not me.

I can pretend to be okay, but until I get her back, and make things right, I don't think I will be.