How would Severus' SO go about breaking up with him?
It would probably not be pretty depending on how much he still loved his SO.
If he was still very deeply in love, he’d probably get very angry and say unkind things and then storm off and self-harm. He’s not very good at rejection and he’s also not very good at having his heart broken.
Of course, if it really wasn’t working out for both of them, I don’t think it would nearly be as bad. He’d probably be the one breaking up with his SO, and be pretty cold/logical about it.
This has been such a slow breakup, it’s a record winner. He keeps guilting me and I end up not talking to him at all. Basically telling me that his life will fall apart and blames me for being distant from him and tells me how it’s fucking up his life. How can a long distance relationship be so codependent omg.
Summary: drinkin’ while you’re in love with jim but are too scared to tell him lest it destroy your friendship.
Word count: 2,361
Warnings: language, alcohol
A/N: isn’t the title funny? it’s a play on “breaking up is hard to do” fjgkdjfhg i love myself. this is slightly sad but i love it for some reason. i think i just love jim so i keep writing him and literally no one else. ENJOY IT AND LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!
You didn’t understand Jim’s flirting technique at all but, on the contrary, you greatly understood how he managed the success rate he did. You attributed it to the “love is blind” cliche— only edited.
“Lust is deaf,” you called it.
He would put his foot in his mouth repeatedly as he spoke to anyone he was attracted to— he would rattle off ridiculous inquiries you could recall being the audience to during your years at the Academy.
Of course, those questions came from eighteen year-old boys with inexplicably high confidence levels that verged on total narcissism and inexplicably low sensitivity levels that verged on sociopathy.
In Jim’s case, however, the questions would be asked with such little interest it was as if he was reading the same tired script printed onto the walls of his scotch glass.
It didn’t matter what Jim said, though. After all, who could resist his unbelievably electric blue eyes and unnecessarily bright smile that appeared to be illuminated by starlight?
He stood with his side leant against the edge of the bar counter, his elbow resting atop the presumably sticky surface— it made you feel bad for his worn grey leather jacket that was probably bearing the brunt of the stickiness. His eyes were narrowed by the magnitude of his close-lipped smile. He brought the rim of his glass to his lips and glanced at you from the corner of his eye.
You just snorted and sat back against the booth you occupied.
Your fingertip swirled patterns against the table as you heard the leather bench across from you squeak with newly added weight. Without looking up, you shook your head. “Not interested.”
She asked me if I loved him. Of course I do. When she asked me if I was in love, I didn’t know. I told her I didn’t really know what that meant. She asked me if I could live without him, I wouldn’t want to but I could. There’s your answer.