Jacksepticeye Oneshots

Six Out Of Ten

FLOOF/ANGST (CHECK OUT THE SONG ABOVE)

I feel like a six out of ten

I gotta get up early tomorrow again

You fell asleep in Sean's arms for the fifth night in a row, fingers running through his tangled hair while he drifted away from a night of passion. It was the first time in months in which you and Sean actually got to stay together. He was always so busy with tours and conventions, not to mention the fact that you lived in a completely different country. The only reason you met was because of your work as a journalist that paid you to travel around the world and write about different cultures, and meeting Sean in cities was a rare occasion. Whenever you did meet up, you spent the entire night catching up on days you went without each other.

Now, of course you were happy to be with Sean, but there was something inside of you that insisted you were nothing compared to him. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the heartbeat that kept you anchored to the moment despite the insecurities inhabiting your thoughts. He was such a good man with an admirable influence on so many people, while you were a mere girl who wore cardigans and glasses when reading. With Sean you felt like a six out of ten, shy yet bubbly and enthusiastic about being with him, but when you left to catch a flight back home you returned to being a recluse.

You sighed and shut your eyes, ignoring your own self-deprecating words and trying desperately to enjoy the moment and sleep. The flight you had to get on the following morning was set for eight o'clock, and you intended on actually getting a good night's rest if you were going to be on the other side of the world soon. Again you would be separated from Sean, and again you would go back to feeling like a one on the scale.

What goes on behind the words?

Is there pity for the plain girl?

Sean waited for you to finish styling your hair, intent on riding in a cab with you to the airport to say goodbye. "I'm gonna miss you," he mumbled. You flicked off the light switch of the hotel bathroom, walking out and sitting besides Sean on the bed you meant to remake before leaving. Though Sean's eyes were downcast in sadness, you couldn't help but pick at his words in an attempt at catching him in a lie. You were always suspicious that someone as successful and charming as Sean would have ever fallen in love with you, and you often wondered if he dated you simply because he could.

Thinking in such a negative way was engraved into your bones. You grew up witnessing countless relationships fall apart, and after experiencing your very own heartbreak (more than once), every relationship you fell into was a maze. There were dead ends and repeating paths, walls intersecting and doors leading to bottomless pits. It surprised you when Sean asked to take you to dinner, and he continued to surprise you by sticking around for so long and coming up with countless ways to show his love for you.

"We'll see each other again," you reassured him. The thought of leaving Sean broke you every single time, but you rejoiced in the days off and crossing paths. In a way you used the rare occurrences as a means to convince yourself maybe Sean wasn't pitying you.

Can you see the panic inside?

I'm making you uneasy aren't I?

"What's wrong?" Sean asked, sensing your uneasiness as he turned to face you. The bed dipped at the shift of his weight, and you picked at your nails as panic rose in your chest. When, exactly, would you see Sean again? This was your first and final night together in three months since you had been traveling around Paris for the past six weeks. The thought of not knowing who he would be around and when you would be in his arms next left you nervous, and Sean's worry only made you more uneasy.