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summary: jack's been avoidant lately, and boy do you notice
pairing: jack abbot x popstar! reader
warnings: angst, cursing, avoidant jack, not proofread, fangirl shen ofc
word count: 3.5k
author's note: EEK HERES THE ANGST U WANTED !!! sorry if it sucks i have been taking forever to write based on my finals this week 😭 maybe some bonus content of the song being released may come soon if yall enjoy ?! idk i hate having to put our happy couple through this but my babies requested it so ! love u all!
part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5
There's not a day that goes by without the PTMC being flooded in and out with patients. You know this, that's why you pull your hoodie down a little further to shield your face from any prying eyes in the waiting room.
You step towards the service desk, flashing your sunglasses down to say hi to Lupe at the front. As simple as it sounds to just walk in without being noticed, there's a rather large gift bag in your possession that's catching some stares.
"Just dropping off a surprise, don't tell Jack."
Lupe smiles knowingly, turning to press the E.D doors open.
You whisper a quiet thanks before moving to enter the fluorescent lit room. It smells just like it did the first time you came here, only now it's not a medical emergency. A hint of metal hides underneath the pungent anti-septic cleaner. It reminds you to watch where you step, or you might ruin your new Uggs.
As you round the corner to the nurses station, you shrug off your hood and raise your sunglasses to lay snugly against your hair. Immediately, you're met with a familiar face.
Shen chokes on his coffee, coughing out your name in between coughs. The tips of his ears glow red as he smacks at his chest. He's still getting used to the whole Abbot-dating-a-pop-star thing.
"What are you doing here?" He tries, and fails, to act as nonchalant as possible. "Need me to grab Jack?" He's halfway on his feet before you urge him to pause.
"Actually, no. You're just the person I was looking for."
He points a finger at himself in disbelief, "Me? Me as in John Shen?"
"Is there another Dunkin' Donuts lover in the PTMC that I'm not aware of? Because I only brought a gift for one and I really don't need the bad publi—oh my god!"
Shen wraps his arms around you tightly before you can wheeze out the rest of your sentence. "Are you for real? Am I being Punk'd?" His eyes dart around the room frantically checking to make sure there isn't a hidden camera crew in Trauma 2.
Shaking your head, you separate from his grasp to lean down and retrieve a comically large kiss-shaped container from the white paper gift bag you brought in. From a patient's perspective, it looks like Shen is being handed the keys to the city by the way he's covering his mouth. For Shen, it just about feels like that, too.
"I had some PR for my new drink come in and while it's adorable, I don't think Jack would appreciate this as much as you would," you explain. Shen opens the container like it contains buried treasure. You almost expect a golden light to shine from the package. "It's nothing too crazy, just a cup and a collectible cocktail shaker."
"I'm protecting this with my life," He promises seriously. Shen closes the box and holds it close to his chest whispering, "God, I'm so glad you fell and Jack had to perform a hip reduction," almost in prayer.
"I'm gonna take that as a thank you..?"
Dana, who is currently updating bed assignments, chuckles from her station a few feet away. Her blue eyes hold a tired weight in them as her claw clip is barely hanging on for dear life.
Considering it's 3 hours past day shift she looks better than you would expect someone after a now 15 hour shift.
"What are we thanking Shen for?" A gruff voice cuts in from behind you.
A smile forms before you can help it, a bubbling excitement forming in the pit of your stomach at the sound of his voice. John barely has the time to wipe the tears forming in his eyes before composing himself in front of his colleague. Slowly, you turn around to face your boyfriend like you just got caught with your hand in the cookie jar.
Jack's eyebrows raise slightly, head flinching backwards as his brain catches up to the sight of you. By the looks of it, it's been one hell of a shift, and he's only on hour three. Jack's grip around the stethoscope tightens as he takes a cautious step forward. His eyes travel up and down your frame as he searches for any reason why you need to be in the ED.
"Surprise? I was just here to drop off a PR gift for John." You gesture to where Shen should be, only to find him gone. Somewhere in the distance you hear him call out for Ellis to stay away from his gift. "Also to bring the _nightcrawler_s some treats. I baked some banana bread muffins after my shoot this morning."
Reaching back into the white bag, you pull out a plastic container decorated in an assortment of stickers. The aroma is already wafting through the air from where you crack open the lid to offer Jack a good look. You offer the container to him, hoping to watch him try one before you leave.
Jack's lips press into a tight smile, taking the muffins from your hands before placing them next to him on the counter. "I'll have one later."
Oh.
Out of the comer of your eye, you watch as Perlah and Princess exchange side eyed glances. You feel yourself deflate at his rejection, eyes switching between the abandoned container and Jack's uneasy stance.
He can't keep still, his weight shifting from one foot to the other. You know his leg must be killing him, the ED being an endless pit of patients that have him running from case to case. A part of you feels relieved that maybe his attitude right now isn't because of you.
"Abbot, motorcycle accident incoming in 3," Dana interrupts. Her voice slices through the tension like a warm knife through butter.
Jack nods, "Okay let's get ready in Trauma 1." Before he can get too far he pauses, and almost as an afterthought, he leans down to give you the chastest of cheek kisses. "Gotta go, I'll text you later okay?"
You bounce on your heels to shake off the feeling of embarrassment as you watch your boyfriend join Mateo by the ambulance bay. You watch as he gives him a fist bump as they wait for the incoming patient, energy already 50% more than what he was sparing you.
Dana gives you a sidelong glance before sliding the container towards herself, "Abbot doesn't want one now but I do. You came at the right time hon, I haven't had real food since 3 pm." Unceremoniously, she pulls the pink wrapper off before biting out a large chunk.
You smile, grateful that some of your pride was saved from having to walk out of the ED without enjoying your gesture. Dana hums in delight as she finishes her other half, neatly folding the wrapper together before throwing it in the mini trash can beside her.
"10/10. No notes, doll," she praises. "Abbot will be lucky to have one if they're not all gone in an hour."
You wave off her comment with a soft smile, "There's more at my place. I'm a little selfish when it comes to banana bread." Popping the hood back over your head, you slide the sunglasses back down before saying goodbye.
It's not until you're seated back in your car that you let the heat crawl up your neck. Should you have called him before coming in? Is it embarrassing to have your girlfriend come in to drop off muffins like a PTA mom?
At least Shen and Dana were happy to see me. John damn near spun me around.
You chalk up Jack's weird mood to him entering the ED to a frenzied mess after day shift had to deal with a five car pileup. You watch the news while baking, okay? You tell yourself he's just being kind, that his silence is him not wanting to air out his frustrations on you.
You check your phone for any notifications, exhaling when you read one from your manager, Sophie.
What did lover boy have to say about your world famous banana bread muffins?
You shut off your phone, trying to save at least a fraction of the good mood you were in earlier.
It stings only a little.
You tell yourself it's going to be a good day.
No studio time today, no meetings, no festival prep. Just you, your iced coffee, and your dinner plans with Jack later.
You had your schedule blocked off specifically for tonight. It's been exactly 6 months since you two started dating seriously. Everything has been almost perfect—aside from the small muffin hiccup that happened a week ago.
You totally let that go.
Okay, maybe you're still kinda bitter about it. But when he came to yours after his shift the next morning, he obliged when you offered to feed him one before he crashed in bed. The only thing keeping you from holding a grudge was the fact that he basically moaned when he finally tried one.
And that he ate 4 more when he woke up.
So now, you're sat on your bathroom counter top attempting to draw on a winged liner without screwing up and starting over. Your speaker in the corner fills the bathroom with r&b music, causing you to harmonize throughout the process.
Glancing down to where your phone rests near its charger, you frown when you realize Jack still hasn't responded. You texted him 30 minutes ago if he was on his way from the PTMC—his shift as a SWAT medic turning into a surprise day shift at the hospital after a shooting took place nearby. Your green text looking back at you as it failed to deliver regularly.
That was the last update he sent you before his phone died. You had a minor panic attack when he said he was in a shooting and got grazed by a fucking bullet, but there wasn't much you could do until seeing him in person.
You tell yourself not to panic as the time draws closer for you to leave.
He's a man. He could come back 30 min before your reservation and all he would need to do is shower and rub some pomade through his hair before he's ready— so sick and twisted now that you think of that.
It's just unlike him. He runs a tight program in and out of the hospital, not keen on being late to anything ever since he left the military. There's an itch to call Robby and ask if Jack's alright or if you need to come over there and patch him up yourself. You're not that close to him, only having his number 'in case of an emergency' like Jack said.
Before you can talk yourself out of it, you pause your music and press on his contact. It rings for what feels like forever before finally connecting, a low sniffle breaking through the static before Robby clears his throat.
"What's up?" His voice is raw—like he swallowed gravel.
Concerned more than ever you sit up further, "I think I should be asking you that, is everything good?"
A humorless laugh cuts through, "You don't wanna fucking know, kid. It's been a shit show."
"No kidding. Is Jack there with you?" By the sound of it, maybe Jack should be there for Robby. You can almost picture him pacing an empty room as you talk to him.
"He left an hour ago. Went to grab a beer with his cop buddies before going home." There's a pregnant pause as the line goes quiet. "…Is there something wrong?"
You bite your lip hard—so hard that it leaves a metallic taste on your tongue. "Nope. I just hadn't heard word from him and—you know what? I actually have to go Robby but thanks for answering."
You end the call with a click before Robby can respond, letting the phone clatter beside you on the counter. Silently, you toss your makeup back into your travel case as you clean up the bathroom.
It's so stupid, you think. You should have seen it coming. The longer time in between texts, the going back to his own place instead of yours after a shift, the way he keeps you arms length from his close circle at the PTMC.
He didn't mind when you followed back Shen, Ellis, even Whitaker_, the man who saves edits of you on his phone_, on Instagram. But God forbid you joke about going on a double date with Robby and his new girlfriend. Jack physically cringed at the suggestion, laughing it off like you suggested going down to visit the Titanic.
You thought it would be different this time. That these past 6 months proved that not every relationship you publicize will burn in a fiery blaze.
Changing into an old college tee and sweats, you debate on going to the kitchen and drinking straight out of the wine bottle or rotting in bed. You feel restless, like if you don't scream or run around your house you might combust.
Your phone lights up on the nightstand, Sophie's face taking over your screen. Not the best time for a business call. You answer regardless, knowing she's probably tracking your location and wondering why you're still at home.
"What do you want, Soph."
She hisses on the other side, "Ouch. Not even a hello, how are you?" When you don't respond, she presses further. "I saw you haven't left for your reservation, everything okay?" Right on the money.
"Consider it cancelled. Jack apparently went out with his SWAT friends without telling me after getting grazed by a bullet." You laugh bitterly, "I guess I'm not exciting enough."
"Don't say that about yourself. If anything he's just old and had a lapse in memory," she chastises.
It earns a chuckle from you before you disagree, "First they're too young and immature to take me seriously and now they're too old to remember me. I really know how to pick 'em."
"Hush, do you need me to come over there and beat his ass when he gets back?" Sophie offers. She's joking of course, but something tells you she would do it if you asked. "Or we can watch 50 Shades of Grey and take a drink each time we cringe? I just don't want you to be alone."
"I don't feel like getting plastered tonight. And don't worry about me, I'll find something to do." Your eyes fall onto the keyboard piano in the corner of your room. "I'll call you later, love you Soph." You end the call after she reluctantly answers back a goodbye.
Now, you're no Shakespeare, but sometimes a song comes to mind and you just need to put it out there before it leaves your mind. Whipping out your notebook and pen, you start playing with chords. Your voice leads the lyrics—your pen following behind to write down hurriedly like they might get lost.
You finish the song in 20 minutes . Admittedly, it's a lighthearted song. One that not only draws from your experience with Jack, but also from the many failed boyfriends before him. Emotions you thought you were done feeling.
Sophie texts you for an update, and it kills you that every time your phone dings you're expecting it to be him. With a defeated sigh, you shut it off completely.
You're halfway into a shitty Lean Cuisine when your front door opens with a harsh whoosh. You don't bother looking up when frantic footsteps approach the kitchen, choosing to lazily blow on the steaming lasagna in front of you.
As the heavy footsteps get closer, they slow— like how Steve Irwin would approach a crocodile. You don't face him when he says your name, finding the bottom of the plastic tray quite interesting.
"Hope your little 'guys night' was fun," you remark listlessly. You jab at a piece of lasagna with your fork.
"Baby I—"
You cut him off sharply.
"Strangely enough, I let it go when you told me to drop the idea of you being in my music video, I thought you were embarrassed to act or— whatever the issue was."
Your grip tights around the fork.
"I let the double date thing go, too. Thought you just hated spending time with Robby outside of work." You finally look at him for the first time today, "… But that's not it, is it?"
You take in his appearance, how his face is a bit flushed and how there's sweat staining the arms of his shirt. No doubt he's had a bad night, and you hate to have to have this conversation after today's events. But if you go to bed pretending it's alright you think you might completely break in two.
"Do I— are you embarrassed of me?" You spit the words out like they burn.
Jack stills like you knocked the air out of him. “…You think I’m embarrassed of you?” he repeats after you—like he’s trying to hear it the way you do.
You huff out a humorless laugh, pushing your barely-touched tray away. “I mean, I think bailing on a date to go drink beers with your cop friends after being shot at says a lot about where your priorities are."
Shoving the bar stool back, you move to stand in front of him. "If this," you point between the two of you, "isn't fun for you anymore, then tell me Jack. Because I'm sick and tired of being led on again and again."
You go to shove past him before his hand reaches to grab your wrist gently. "I'm sorry—my phone died and I—," he shakes his head as if he knows that it sounds like bullshit to your ears, "I know tonight was inexcusable. I know that."
His jaw tightens as he tries to work the lump in his throat down. "And I know it's not just tonight. The video, Robby, the— I've been keeping you away from everything and I told myself I'm helping you—"
"Helping me with what?"
"—with when one day you wake up and realize that you don't want this," he chokes out, voice going hoarse as he drops your hand to run his own over his face.
You falter backwards— his admission piercing your chest like a scalpel. You watch as he takes a second to find his words before continuing.
"I don't know how to do this," he says, and he sounds genuinely lost in a way that Jack never lets himself sound. "I don't know how to be with someone like you and not—" He exhales hard through his nose. "I love you. And I love you too much to let you waste your time with someone like me so I just—"
"You pushed me away," your heart is like a pounding drum in your ears. "How am I supposed to know how you feel if you don't tell me."
"Yeah." His voice drops. "And I'm not sure how I can make it up to you, but I'll spend the rest of my life trying if I have to." His eyes follow as yours avoid him at all costs.
A beat goes by. Then two. And after the silence has hung in the air too long, Jack is contemplating on whether to turn away and leave before he has to watch you ask him to. It might actually kill him.
Looking up at the ceiling, you exhale loudly. Tears line your eyes—a complete juxtaposition to the tired laugh you give. "You have such a funny way of showing it." You walk closer, hand coming to direct his gaze to you.
"I know," he says quietly, "my therapist says I'm a piece of work." His hand comes up to cover yours where it rests on his jaw. "I'm sorry."
You let out a wry laugh as you search his face for a long moment — the tension in his brow, the way his hair looks like he's ran through it a million times. You feel bad, but also at ease to know he wasn't acting this way because he didn't care.
"You're such an idiot," you whisper. A tear escapes before you can stop it. "I love you too, you know. I wish I could have told you under better circumstances."
Something in his face breaks open. Like he's been holding his breath for six months and just now remembered how to let it go.
He pulls you in before you can say anything else, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other wrapping around your waist like he's afraid you might take it back. You feel his exhale warm against your hair.
"I know," he murmurs. "I'm sorry I let you feel like you aren't a priority. And for everything else I've done earlier. "
You press your face into his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "Don't do it again."
His lips find your forehead and stay there. "Never, I promise."
summary: jack's been avoidant lately, and boy do you notice
pairing: jack abbot x popstar! reader
warnings: angst, cursing, avoidant jack, not proofread, fangirl shen ofc
word count: 3.5k
author's note: EEK HERES THE ANGST U WANTED !!! sorry if it sucks i have been taking forever to write based on my finals this week 😭 maybe some bonus content of the song being released may come soon if yall enjoy ?! idk i hate having to put our happy couple through this but my babies requested it so ! love u all!
part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5
There's not a day that goes by without the PTMC being flooded in and out with patients. You know this, that's why you pull your hoodie down a little further to shield your face from any prying eyes in the waiting room.
You step towards the service desk, flashing your sunglasses down to say hi to Lupe at the front. As simple as it sounds to just walk in without being noticed, there's a rather large gift bag in your possession that's catching some stares.
"Just dropping off a surprise, don't tell Jack."
Lupe smiles knowingly, turning to press the E.D doors open.
You whisper a quiet thanks before moving to enter the fluorescent lit room. It smells just like it did the first time you came here, only now it's not a medical emergency. A hint of metal hides underneath the pungent anti-septic cleaner. It reminds you to watch where you step, or you might ruin your new Uggs.
As you round the corner to the nurses station, you shrug off your hood and raise your sunglasses to lay snugly against your hair. Immediately, you're met with a familiar face.
Shen chokes on his coffee, coughing out your name in between coughs. The tips of his ears glow red as he smacks at his chest. He's still getting used to the whole Abbot-dating-a-pop-star thing.
"What are you doing here?" He tries, and fails, to act as nonchalant as possible. "Need me to grab Jack?" He's halfway on his feet before you urge him to pause.
"Actually, no. You're just the person I was looking for."
He points a finger at himself in disbelief, "Me? Me as in John Shen?"
"Is there another Dunkin' Donuts lover in the PTMC that I'm not aware of? Because I only brought a gift for one and I really don't need the bad publi—oh my god!"
Shen wraps his arms around you tightly before you can wheeze out the rest of your sentence. "Are you for real? Am I being Punk'd?" His eyes dart around the room frantically checking to make sure there isn't a hidden camera crew in Trauma 2.
Shaking your head, you separate from his grasp to lean down and retrieve a comically large kiss-shaped container from the white paper gift bag you brought in. From a patient's perspective, it looks like Shen is being handed the keys to the city by the way he's covering his mouth. For Shen, it just about feels like that, too.
"I had some PR for my new drink come in and while it's adorable, I don't think Jack would appreciate this as much as you would," you explain. Shen opens the container like it contains buried treasure. You almost expect a golden light to shine from the package. "It's nothing too crazy, just a cup and a collectible cocktail shaker."
"I'm protecting this with my life," He promises seriously. Shen closes the box and holds it close to his chest whispering, "God, I'm so glad you fell and Jack had to perform a hip reduction," almost in prayer.
"I'm gonna take that as a thank you..?"
Dana, who is currently updating bed assignments, chuckles from her station a few feet away. Her blue eyes hold a tired weight in them as her claw clip is barely hanging on for dear life.
Considering it's 3 hours past day shift she looks better than you would expect someone after a now 15 hour shift.
"What are we thanking Shen for?" A gruff voice cuts in from behind you.
A smile forms before you can help it, a bubbling excitement forming in the pit of your stomach at the sound of his voice. John barely has the time to wipe the tears forming in his eyes before composing himself in front of his colleague. Slowly, you turn around to face your boyfriend like you just got caught with your hand in the cookie jar.
Jack's eyebrows raise slightly, head flinching backwards as his brain catches up to the sight of you. By the looks of it, it's been one hell of a shift, and he's only on hour three. Jack's grip around the stethoscope tightens as he takes a cautious step forward. His eyes travel up and down your frame as he searches for any reason why you need to be in the ED.
"Surprise? I was just here to drop off a PR gift for John." You gesture to where Shen should be, only to find him gone. Somewhere in the distance you hear him call out for Ellis to stay away from his gift. "Also to bring the _nightcrawler_s some treats. I baked some banana bread muffins after my shoot this morning."
Reaching back into the white bag, you pull out a plastic container decorated in an assortment of stickers. The aroma is already wafting through the air from where you crack open the lid to offer Jack a good look. You offer the container to him, hoping to watch him try one before you leave.
Jack's lips press into a tight smile, taking the muffins from your hands before placing them next to him on the counter. "I'll have one later."
Oh.
Out of the comer of your eye, you watch as Perlah and Princess exchange side eyed glances. You feel yourself deflate at his rejection, eyes switching between the abandoned container and Jack's uneasy stance.
He can't keep still, his weight shifting from one foot to the other. You know his leg must be killing him, the ED being an endless pit of patients that have him running from case to case. A part of you feels relieved that maybe his attitude right now isn't because of you.
"Abbot, motorcycle accident incoming in 3," Dana interrupts. Her voice slices through the tension like a warm knife through butter.
Jack nods, "Okay let's get ready in Trauma 1." Before he can get too far he pauses, and almost as an afterthought, he leans down to give you the chastest of cheek kisses. "Gotta go, I'll text you later okay?"
You bounce on your heels to shake off the feeling of embarrassment as you watch your boyfriend join Mateo by the ambulance bay. You watch as he gives him a fist bump as they wait for the incoming patient, energy already 50% more than what he was sparing you.
Dana gives you a sidelong glance before sliding the container towards herself, "Abbot doesn't want one now but I do. You came at the right time hon, I haven't had real food since 3 pm." Unceremoniously, she pulls the pink wrapper off before biting out a large chunk.
You smile, grateful that some of your pride was saved from having to walk out of the ED without enjoying your gesture. Dana hums in delight as she finishes her other half, neatly folding the wrapper together before throwing it in the mini trash can beside her.
"10/10. No notes, doll," she praises. "Abbot will be lucky to have one if they're not all gone in an hour."
You wave off her comment with a soft smile, "There's more at my place. I'm a little selfish when it comes to banana bread." Popping the hood back over your head, you slide the sunglasses back down before saying goodbye.
It's not until you're seated back in your car that you let the heat crawl up your neck. Should you have called him before coming in? Is it embarrassing to have your girlfriend come in to drop off muffins like a PTA mom?
At least Shen and Dana were happy to see me. John damn near spun me around.
You chalk up Jack's weird mood to him entering the ED to a frenzied mess after day shift had to deal with a five car pileup. You watch the news while baking, okay? You tell yourself he's just being kind, that his silence is him not wanting to air out his frustrations on you.
You check your phone for any notifications, exhaling when you read one from your manager, Sophie.
What did lover boy have to say about your world famous banana bread muffins?
You shut off your phone, trying to save at least a fraction of the good mood you were in earlier.
It stings only a little.
You tell yourself it's going to be a good day.
No studio time today, no meetings, no festival prep. Just you, your iced coffee, and your dinner plans with Jack later.
You had your schedule blocked off specifically for tonight. It's been exactly 6 months since you two started dating seriously. Everything has been almost perfect—aside from the small muffin hiccup that happened a week ago.
You totally let that go.
Okay, maybe you're still kinda bitter about it. But when he came to yours after his shift the next morning, he obliged when you offered to feed him one before he crashed in bed. The only thing keeping you from holding a grudge was the fact that he basically moaned when he finally tried one.
And that he ate 4 more when he woke up.
So now, you're sat on your bathroom counter top attempting to draw on a winged liner without screwing up and starting over. Your speaker in the corner fills the bathroom with r&b music, causing you to harmonize throughout the process.
Glancing down to where your phone rests near its charger, you frown when you realize Jack still hasn't responded. You texted him 30 minutes ago if he was on his way from the PTMC—his shift as a SWAT medic turning into a surprise day shift at the hospital after a shooting took place nearby. Your green text looking back at you as it failed to deliver regularly.
That was the last update he sent you before his phone died. You had a minor panic attack when he said he was in a shooting and got grazed by a fucking bullet, but there wasn't much you could do until seeing him in person.
You tell yourself not to panic as the time draws closer for you to leave.
He's a man. He could come back 30 min before your reservation and all he would need to do is shower and rub some pomade through his hair before he's ready— so sick and twisted now that you think of that.
It's just unlike him. He runs a tight program in and out of the hospital, not keen on being late to anything ever since he left the military. There's an itch to call Robby and ask if Jack's alright or if you need to come over there and patch him up yourself. You're not that close to him, only having his number 'in case of an emergency' like Jack said.
Before you can talk yourself out of it, you pause your music and press on his contact. It rings for what feels like forever before finally connecting, a low sniffle breaking through the static before Robby clears his throat.
"What's up?" His voice is raw—like he swallowed gravel.
Concerned more than ever you sit up further, "I think I should be asking you that, is everything good?"
A humorless laugh cuts through, "You don't wanna fucking know, kid. It's been a shit show."
"No kidding. Is Jack there with you?" By the sound of it, maybe Jack should be there for Robby. You can almost picture him pacing an empty room as you talk to him.
"He left an hour ago. Went to grab a beer with his cop buddies before going home." There's a pregnant pause as the line goes quiet. "…Is there something wrong?"
You bite your lip hard—so hard that it leaves a metallic taste on your tongue. "Nope. I just hadn't heard word from him and—you know what? I actually have to go Robby but thanks for answering."
You end the call with a click before Robby can respond, letting the phone clatter beside you on the counter. Silently, you toss your makeup back into your travel case as you clean up the bathroom.
It's so stupid, you think. You should have seen it coming. The longer time in between texts, the going back to his own place instead of yours after a shift, the way he keeps you arms length from his close circle at the PTMC.
He didn't mind when you followed back Shen, Ellis, even Whitaker_, the man who saves edits of you on his phone_, on Instagram. But God forbid you joke about going on a double date with Robby and his new girlfriend. Jack physically cringed at the suggestion, laughing it off like you suggested going down to visit the Titanic.
You thought it would be different this time. That these past 6 months proved that not every relationship you publicize will burn in a fiery blaze.
Changing into an old college tee and sweats, you debate on going to the kitchen and drinking straight out of the wine bottle or rotting in bed. You feel restless, like if you don't scream or run around your house you might combust.
Your phone lights up on the nightstand, Sophie's face taking over your screen. Not the best time for a business call. You answer regardless, knowing she's probably tracking your location and wondering why you're still at home.
"What do you want, Soph."
She hisses on the other side, "Ouch. Not even a hello, how are you?" When you don't respond, she presses further. "I saw you haven't left for your reservation, everything okay?" Right on the money.
"Consider it cancelled. Jack apparently went out with his SWAT friends without telling me after getting grazed by a bullet." You laugh bitterly, "I guess I'm not exciting enough."
"Don't say that about yourself. If anything he's just old and had a lapse in memory," she chastises.
It earns a chuckle from you before you disagree, "First they're too young and immature to take me seriously and now they're too old to remember me. I really know how to pick 'em."
"Hush, do you need me to come over there and beat his ass when he gets back?" Sophie offers. She's joking of course, but something tells you she would do it if you asked. "Or we can watch 50 Shades of Grey and take a drink each time we cringe? I just don't want you to be alone."
"I don't feel like getting plastered tonight. And don't worry about me, I'll find something to do." Your eyes fall onto the keyboard piano in the corner of your room. "I'll call you later, love you Soph." You end the call after she reluctantly answers back a goodbye.
Now, you're no Shakespeare, but sometimes a song comes to mind and you just need to put it out there before it leaves your mind. Whipping out your notebook and pen, you start playing with chords. Your voice leads the lyrics—your pen following behind to write down hurriedly like they might get lost.
You finish the song in 20 minutes . Admittedly, it's a lighthearted song. One that not only draws from your experience with Jack, but also from the many failed boyfriends before him. Emotions you thought you were done feeling.
Sophie texts you for an update, and it kills you that every time your phone dings you're expecting it to be him. With a defeated sigh, you shut it off completely.
You're halfway into a shitty Lean Cuisine when your front door opens with a harsh whoosh. You don't bother looking up when frantic footsteps approach the kitchen, choosing to lazily blow on the steaming lasagna in front of you.
As the heavy footsteps get closer, they slow— like how Steve Irwin would approach a crocodile. You don't face him when he says your name, finding the bottom of the plastic tray quite interesting.
"Hope your little 'guys night' was fun," you remark listlessly. You jab at a piece of lasagna with your fork.
"Baby I—"
You cut him off sharply.
"Strangely enough, I let it go when you told me to drop the idea of you being in my music video, I thought you were embarrassed to act or— whatever the issue was."
Your grip tights around the fork.
"I let the double date thing go, too. Thought you just hated spending time with Robby outside of work." You finally look at him for the first time today, "… But that's not it, is it?"
You take in his appearance, how his face is a bit flushed and how there's sweat staining the arms of his shirt. No doubt he's had a bad night, and you hate to have to have this conversation after today's events. But if you go to bed pretending it's alright you think you might completely break in two.
"Do I— are you embarrassed of me?" You spit the words out like they burn.
Jack stills like you knocked the air out of him. “…You think I’m embarrassed of you?” he repeats after you—like he’s trying to hear it the way you do.
You huff out a humorless laugh, pushing your barely-touched tray away. “I mean, I think bailing on a date to go drink beers with your cop friends after being shot at says a lot about where your priorities are."
Shoving the bar stool back, you move to stand in front of him. "If this," you point between the two of you, "isn't fun for you anymore, then tell me Jack. Because I'm sick and tired of being led on again and again."
You go to shove past him before his hand reaches to grab your wrist gently. "I'm sorry—my phone died and I—," he shakes his head as if he knows that it sounds like bullshit to your ears, "I know tonight was inexcusable. I know that."
His jaw tightens as he tries to work the lump in his throat down. "And I know it's not just tonight. The video, Robby, the— I've been keeping you away from everything and I told myself I'm helping you—"
"Helping me with what?"
"—with when one day you wake up and realize that you don't want this," he chokes out, voice going hoarse as he drops your hand to run his own over his face.
You falter backwards— his admission piercing your chest like a scalpel. You watch as he takes a second to find his words before continuing.
"I don't know how to do this," he says, and he sounds genuinely lost in a way that Jack never lets himself sound. "I don't know how to be with someone like you and not—" He exhales hard through his nose. "I love you. And I love you too much to let you waste your time with someone like me so I just—"
"You pushed me away," your heart is like a pounding drum in your ears. "How am I supposed to know how you feel if you don't tell me."
"Yeah." His voice drops. "And I'm not sure how I can make it up to you, but I'll spend the rest of my life trying if I have to." His eyes follow as yours avoid him at all costs.
A beat goes by. Then two. And after the silence has hung in the air too long, Jack is contemplating on whether to turn away and leave before he has to watch you ask him to. It might actually kill him.
Looking up at the ceiling, you exhale loudly. Tears line your eyes—a complete juxtaposition to the tired laugh you give. "You have such a funny way of showing it." You walk closer, hand coming to direct his gaze to you.
"I know," he says quietly, "my therapist says I'm a piece of work." His hand comes up to cover yours where it rests on his jaw. "I'm sorry."
You let out a wry laugh as you search his face for a long moment — the tension in his brow, the way his hair looks like he's ran through it a million times. You feel bad, but also at ease to know he wasn't acting this way because he didn't care.
"You're such an idiot," you whisper. A tear escapes before you can stop it. "I love you too, you know. I wish I could have told you under better circumstances."
Something in his face breaks open. Like he's been holding his breath for six months and just now remembered how to let it go.
He pulls you in before you can say anything else, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other wrapping around your waist like he's afraid you might take it back. You feel his exhale warm against your hair.
"I know," he murmurs. "I'm sorry I let you feel like you aren't a priority. And for everything else I've done earlier. "
You press your face into his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "Don't do it again."
His lips find your forehead and stay there. "Never, I promise."
jack abbot popstar fic inspi. by busy woman??? please i am on my knees begging (for him and the fic)
i think i lowkey had a draft about this and idk what i did with it 😭 i am currently cooking up a different fic BUT I am open to suggestions on new scenarios 😉
BABY ARE YOU FEELING BETTER?? I remember you said you didnt feel too hot a few days ago
I AM !! thank you for asking angel !🤍 i’ve been slammed with last minute assignments so writing has been on the back burner, but im planning on posting soon !
