Jason likes to jam to the song Another One Bites the Dust by Queen. Outnumbered, he blasts the song, dancing and killing with ease. Moonwalks, twirls then bam bam another one bites the dust, taking down bad guys without missing a beat.
Tell me this man is not the Lord of Bloodshed, the General Commander of the Nightcourt, Our Lord and Savour, the most irresistible male of the inner circle, the ruby siphon rocking, Nesta Archeron’s no.1 sex dream appearance, god-like Cassian.
I figured I’d join the angst train @hardcorewwetrash has started bc why not. I’ve had this fic sitting in my notes for a while but I couldn’t tell if it was missing anything. Oh well.
The familiar cold of the glass I held to my lips was a small comfort, a quick shock to dull the burn of the bourbon I forced myself to gulp down. With a heavy sigh, I placed the glass down onto the coffee table amidst the remains of a photo album and empty bottles.
By now I’d imagine my reflection was terrible, bloodshot eyes, matted hair, dirty clothes, and make up staining my cheeks. Running a shaky hand over tired eyes, I squinted at the floor to ceiling windows just across the living room from where I sat in a sad heap on the couch. Judging by the streaks of light, it must be morning.
Had I drank myself well into the night? How long has it been since everything fell apart? Days, weeks? Was I that low? So gone in my feelings I’d forgotten how to function. Looking now to my side I found my phone lighting up. Was it him? Did he finally realize…. no. He would never….
“I made a solid vow to her, (y/n). I gave my SOUL to this woman. You can’t expect me to–”
“To what? Be true to your feelings? Tell me the truth? Joe, I’m your best friend. YOUR BEST FUCKING FRIEND. I’ve known you FOR YEARS, and you can’t even muster the fucking courage to tell me the truth? To even acknowledge that something is there?”
“It’s not that simple, (y/n). You know it isn’t…I can’t just– I can’t say that I feel the same.”
“Can’t or won’t, Joe, there’s a big difference.”
“I need to go.”
“No! Fucking say it to my face, you fucking coward! Tell me you don’t love me, say it.”
“T-tell me to my fucking face that you d-don’t love me too! SAY IT!”
I felt the tears coming all over again. How could I allow myself to be so stupid. Of course he’d never love me, I was only ever a friend. I suppose I let a little drunk flirting go to my head; i had seen it all so clearly in my mind. He and I together, the cute little house, the white picket fence, then I remembered. He has all that, all that and more with out me. He has her. SHE is his forever. SHE IS HIS FUTURE. And I mean nothing.
I’d tried calling her over the past few days, but I’d lost my nerve.
How do you tell another woman you’re in love with her husband? What would I say? How would I–
“Hello? Aunt (y/n)? It’s Jojo, my mom isn’t around right now. We miss you…. hello?”
That sweet little voice, she sounded so much like her mother, always so kind. If only she knew how selfish I was being. She would hate me as long as she lived. That precious child has a happy home and I’d become so selfish I was willing to break it to be happy. No wonder he doesn’t love me… not like I love him, anyway.
There came a rapid knocking at my front door. Was it even worth answering? With a heavy sigh I stood and shuffled past more empty bottles to the door, not bothering to ask who it was, I already knew the answer.
“Why did you call Galina?”
“Huh. You noticed.” Came my bitter reply, when had I become this way? Another long pause of silence.
“Th-the uh, kids…. they’ve been asking about you.” He scratched at the back of his neck, an old nervous habit.
“Have they?” Silence from me was all that followed. He didn’t deserve my time, or was it I knew I didn’t deserve his?
“You’ve been holed up in this apartment for a week and a half, maybe you should-”
“You don’t fucking care. You should be at home. With your WIFE. Not here dragging your balls through glass in an attempt to talk to me.” Had I actually said that?
“Why are you acting like this, please I–I mean we’re all really worried.”
“Well maybe WE should think about some things before WE decide to come visit me as if everything is o-fucking-kay.” With that I slammed the door, or should I say attempted to, as he’d wedged his foot in between the door frame.
Throwing my hands up in defeat I walked back into the welcoming darkness of my living room. “Did you want some coffee or something?” I asked, more of an obligatory question than a hospitable one.
After tripping over a few bottles he’d made his way to the light switch and flipped it on. “Jesus fucking Christ, (y/n). Are you drinking again?”
“So what if I am? You don’t care, Joe.” I spat
He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re my best friend too you know, I’m supposed to care.”
At his words I flinched. “Don’t say it like it’s a fucking obligation to be friends, Joe. You don’t have to fucking be here. I’m fine!” I busied myself picking up bottles and placing them on the coffee table.
His shoulders rose and fell in rapid succession; picking up a bottle that lay near his feet, he heaved it at the wall sending glass shards in all directions. “You can’t throw a fucking tantrum and drink yourself to death because I don’t share the same feelings you do, (y/n)! This is fucking insane!” He boomed
“Oh, fuck you! The ONLY reason you came over here is because you know that I’m right and you love me, but you’d rather fake a fucking marriage than be true to yourself! You know just as well as I do that she’s fucking cheating on you! She has been for MONTHS! Or wait, is that only relevant when you’re completely shit faced and whining about it in my arms, huh?”
“You shut your FUCKING mouth!”
“The late night calls, the long hours at work, those loooooooong business trips? You know in your heart she fucks her boss every chance she gets; when you’re on the road it’s a million times worse. While the cat is away, the fucking mice will play, right?” I smirked
By now he was seeing red, the little vein in his forehead was pulsing.
“You may not love me, but she damn sure doesn’t love you.” I finished