we talked romantically for a week cause i confessed to him.,. and then he decided we shouldn’t anymore,. and now it’s been like i’m chasing after him for 3 weeks and im ready to unfollow him everywhere lol
i will not mourn someone for more than i knew them
Femjay and reader fighting is so sad 😞 ugh especially since it's bc reader thinks she doesn't have a chance but she does!!! Do they make up? 🥹
They will but FIRST more angst hehe 😏 | fem hockey jason x fem reader. tw injury, scared reader, lesbian emotional turmoil 💔
prev part
****
The longest fight you and Jay have ever had lasted six days. In junior year, you paired up with the class president, Ella Page, for a chemistry final project that was worth a third of your grade. At the time, it'd seemed like the better choice. You were obsessive about grades, about doing well, about what people thought of you. You needed to be the best, or at least as close as possible.
It wasn't that you didn't think Jay was smart. She was. Is. But she'd never been as uptight about school as you were. She took it easy; school came naturally for her, especially with her aptitude for reading and writing, and she was considerably more invested in hockey at this point, which won her social points in a sea of homophobic classmates.
You feared she'd put you and your grade aside in favor of her games, which were every week. You hardly saw her outside of practice. The night before class, you fought, accusing her of prioritizing hockey. When you chose Ella on Monday, Jay refused to speak to you.
Ella caught mono and was out for a week. You ended up having to do the entire project alone, and you rushed it, unable to get an extension since plenty other students were working alone. It was the first C+ you ever earned, and you cried so hard about it after class, not knowing that Jay was outside the door, listening to you blubber over a 78 to Mrs. Dorley. Jay had broken the silence when you came out of the classroom, both of you miserable without the other. She'd given you a hug and you bought her ice cream after school.
Jay got an A- for the project. She told you later, in college, that she felt like getting a C was hard enough without your best friend also ignoring you. She's always been gentle with you, forgiving in a way that maybe seventeen year old you didn't deserve. You've both grown since then, and your friendship can weather far more than a chemistry grade now.
But Jay is not going to make the first move this time. You must correct things for yourself.
The longest fight you've ever had with Jay is now eight days and three hours. You haven't spoken since the night of the charity event. You texted her "happy game day" to feel her out, but there was no reply. Anxiety roils your stomach, like waves crashing against a cliff.
You can't bear it any longer. You have to talk to her. You know that Jay isn't really mad about the fight. No, she's angry you lied. And so egregiously too. She's fiercely loyal, and honest, and the times you weren't have hurt Jay the most.
So your plan is to corner her after the game, and to explain yourself in the best way you can without revealing the real reason you left so fast. You don't know how you're going to do that. You hope that "I can't tell you right now" will be good enough for Jay.
On your way inside the stadium, you spot Marcy. You wave. She looks around first, like she's expecting Jay to pop out of the wall. Then she jogs over to you.
"Hey, sunshine," she says.
You try your best to return her enthusiasm. "Hi, Marcy."
The way she looks at you, you can already tell that she knows you're fighting. You sigh.
"She's in the locker room, if you wanna talk."
You shake your head. "I'll talk to her later. I don't wanna distract her."
Marcy laughs wryly. "Too late for that, babe. She's been whiffing the puck all week. Whatever's going on between you two, it's getting to her."
Well, that makes you feel about ten times worse. At least in chemistry, Jay got an A, like she deserved.
You frown. "Oh."
Marcy softens. "You've been friends for a long time, haven't you?"
"Ten years."
She hums. "I think, whatever's happening, you’ll get past it. Seems like there's nothing that can stop you being friends."
You chew your lip. "But what if there is? What if it's something we can't get past?"
Marcy raises a brow. "Like what?"
You shake your head. "Nothing. I can't—it doesn't matter. I'm gonna go to my seat. Please wish Jay good luck from me. She won't reply to my texts."
"Sure," Marcy says, but you're already walking away, feeling defeated before the game's begun.
****
You aren't wearing Jay's jersey number. It's the first time you haven't worn anything for luck. You're in a plain blue sweater tonight, which isn't one of the Knight colors, but it's not a Star City Comet color either.
Your heart picks up when you see Jay skate onto the ice. She doesn't wave or do a playful twirl for the crowd. She doesn't even look in the direction of the bleachers.
You sort of want to go down and tap on the glass, make her look at you, but you don't. No, you'll speak to her after the game.
The first period goes spectacularly well for the Knights. Jay scores twice, and she raises her stick for the crowd, yelling with their enthusiasm. You clap quietly, proud like always. You don't want your fight to get in the way of hockey. Jay should win. She deserves it, in spite of you.
During intermission, you stay at your seat. Normally, you'd talk to Jay while she's on the bench, until her coach yells at her to focus and Jay grins at you, silently reassuring you that neither of you are in real trouble.
But you find it decidedly unbearable to go down and shout her name, all for her to pretend not to hear you. You can picture her teammates looking at you pitifully, maybe a few like Marcy pleading for Jay to talk to you. Just the thought is a lance to your ribs. You refrain.
Besides, Jay's on a winning streak. You don't want to break that.
The second period begins. The Comets are aggressive now, eager to win goals of their own. A few players are penalized for cross-checking. You keep your eye on Kayla Berger, remembering how she hit Jay last time.
Your attention on Kayla means you never see it coming. And neither does Jay.
The Comets' new enforcer, Terry Moore, matches Jay in both height and weight. So it's easy for her to slam into her from the side, when Jay is skating for a goal. Jay flies across the ice, landing hard on her shoulder. You can hear the impact from here. She doesn't move.
Shauna and two other players are already in Terry's face, screaming and shoving her. But you can't hear a thing. All you see is Jay lying still on the ice. Marcy kneels next to her, her mouth moving, presumably to keep Jay awake.
You're chilled to the bone, fear corroding your throat like acid. You walk down to the glass without a thought, watching the EMTs load Jay onto a gurney. Tears sting your eyes, sharp and salty, and you scream her name. Fans are booing, screaming cheap shot and calling Terry several rude names.
What's wrong with them? you think ferociously. Who cares about the game? A cheap shot? Cheap fucking shot? There's a smear of blood where Jay was, and it's all you can look at.
"I have to go," you say to no one. You walk out of the stadium, then you break into a run. You run all the way to the parking lot, where the ambulance is. The EMT clocks you before you form a plan about how to approach this delicately. Nothing about this is delicate.
"Ma'am, I need you to keep distance," the EMT says, holding her hands up.
"I'm her friend, you don't understand. I'm her friend. I have to see her." You crane your neck around the EMT to catch a glimpse of Jay. Is her chest moving? You can't tell. "Jay? Jay! Jay, are you breathing? Is she breathing? Is she—"
"Ma'am, you have to step back," the EMT warns. What the fuck? Doesn't she know? Doesn't she understand you'll die if Jay does?
"I need to see her," you say. You don't know how many times you say it, but it's enough for the EMT to firmly guide you away by your arm as two others close the doors to the ambulance.
"Take a deep breath," she says. You watch your breath leave you in foggy clouds. You can't find a deep enough breath to calm you down. Your hands shake, heart thumping in your chest.
And then you're sitting on the curb, alone. The concrete is freezing through your jeans. The EMT is gone, as is the ambulance. There are three hospitals in Gotham. You should be hunting down where they took her, but you can't move.
A hand on your shoulder makes you jump. You look up to find Shauna and Marcy. They're still wearing their jerseys, without their helmets and skates.
"Hey," Shauna says, crouching beside you. "How long have you been out there? It's freezing."
You haven't noticed. "They wouldn't let me on the ambulance. I wanted... I had to see—I didn't tell her I'm sorry."
They help you stand. You wobble, but Marcy keeps you steady.
does anyone have any book suggestions on aromantism and/or lesbianism? i’m trying to read more this year and am a.,. questioning aro and want to learn more !!
kianamaiart
theartofmadeline
turnnoffyourmind
