Like watching a movie and already knowing the end
No matter how hard we try to run away
We’re always in the same place
Always come back to me
Again in the same place
In the end, like this
Back in place again
Why is it so hard to leave
Again in the same place - G Soul Circles
Paring: Dabin X FC (Jasmine)
He’s drunk, Jasmine,”
I shouldn’t have answered my phone. The only time Christian calls me is if it’s about Dabin. Considering we never actually grew to like each other, despite how much time we spent together, we didn’t make it a habit to speak. Over the last year though, his name has popped up on my phone more times than when I was actually dating his best friend for two years.
I look over at my date who is busy grating a block of parmesan cheese over the pasta we spent n hour making. Dinner was finally done, the movie we’d ordered already set up, the condoms in my purse begging me to free them.
“He’s asking for you,” he sighs. “He’s-,”
He pauses, exhaling a large overdramatic breath.
“He’s been crying, Jasmine. Please, just come get him. You know he’s good for the gas money,”
“I’m on a fucking date,” I whisper harshly. I didn’t mean to be cruel. Not to Christian at least who hasn’t done anything wrong other than letting him get this far.
“That fucking explains it,” he says quietly.
It stings.
It burns.
It ignites a fire in my chest.
He has no right to do this every fucking time. He’s selfish. He’s an asshole. He’s the one who broke up with me.
“What do you want me to do?” I sigh, already scanning Lucas’s apartment for my things.
“Just come get him, take him back to yours, calm him down,”
“I’m not his babysitter, Christian. That’s your job, remember?” I say bitterly.
As shameful as it is, how close they are really used to irk me. If he wasn’t with me, he was with Rome. If I called him, Christian was always in the background reminding him that they had work to do. If I wanted to spend the night at his place, Christian was usually the first person I saw in the morning as Dabin sleeps too late even for me.
“I can’t take him back to mine. Nicole has-,”
“Fuck, I know, Christian. Whatever it is going on with your girlfriend, once again you can’t take care of your best friend,”
It’s harsh again, I know. I’m frustrated.
Ironically, I don’t think Nicole is particularly fond of Dabin either. I was always protective when Christian had to choose her over Dabin.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m just...this has to stop, Christian,”
“I’ll see you in a little bit,” Christian says hopefully.
“Yeah,” I say, clicking the call off.
I look behind me again. Lucas unties the adorable apron from around his waist and reaches up to grab two plates from his cabinet. How organized everything is here always freaked me out. I’m not used to neat boys. I’m used to Christian’s protein powders taking up half of the coffee-stained counter that had at least one empty americano plastic cup. I’m also not used to real matching dishes in a man’s house.
He’s good for me, I tell myself. I’m going to ruin this because of my ex-boyfriend who I run to save whenever he calls. Sighing, I get up and grab my purse while slipping on my heels.
Lucas looks up at me a frown on his pretty face.
I shake my head. My fingers pick at the strap of my bag. Dabin used to laugh at the point in all my straps that shows my nervous habit. This is a new bag, I scold myself forcing my hands to drop along with my eyes.
“I’m really sorry, Lucas,” I begin.
What’s your excuse Jasmine? My ex-boyfriend is drunk and crying in a bar because he misses me and for the third time in half as many months, I’m going to take him back to mine because I’m the only person he has to take care of him.
“My friend is really drunk at a bar right now. I have to go get him,”
He doesn’t even blink at the fact that I’m leaving to go to another man. He just moves to grab his keys off the counter.
“Jesus, Jasmine, I’ll take you before he gets himself in trouble,”
He’s nice. He’s really totally nice. I’ve always had a thing for genuinely sweet guys. Dabin is sweet. He’s nice too. He’s not Lucas nice and maybe that’s why I’m choosing him.
“It’s my ex-boyfriend, Lucas,”
He pauses for a second before shrugging. “It’s fine,”
I sigh. “No, it’s not fine because this is going to happen again and every time I’m going to leave and go get him because we’re all each other has really. Eventually, it’ll come between us and I’ll still choose Dabin and I don’t want to put you through that,”
His head tilts adorably. “Are you, are you breaking up with me?”
I nod slowly. I feel bad. I feel angry. With myself mostly.
“I’ll call you in the morning, Jasmine,” he says finally.
He interrupts me. “Just go do what you have to do. I’ll call you,”
Lucas is one of the ones who won’t realize what I’m saying until he shows up at my apartment and sees Dabin half naked on my couch. Still, I don’t have time right now to give him anything else. I leave, turning my head when he tries to kiss me. Luckily for Dabin, Lucas lives halfway between the bar and my place. It only takes me twenty minutes to get to him.
I park my car and make it to the bar just half-past nine. I spot Christian right away, mainly because eyes usually follows his every move. I move toward him as quickly as I can in these heels. He’s hunched over someone, patting them on the back. Dabin. My heart sinks. Despite everything, I ache.
I cross my arms over my chest psuedo-protectively.
Christian turns, his brown eyes brightening when he sees me. He moves out of the way so I can get to Dabin. His cheek is pressed against the bar, one hand tunnels through his hair while another grips an empty shot glass.
“What the fuck is wrong with you guys?” I whisper, shaking my head.
They’re both at fault. Christian for letting it go this far and Dabin for yet again being an idiot.
He doesn’t move. I lean over to the other side to step into his line of vision. His eyes are squeezed shut like he’s trying to hide in plain sight.
“Can she see me?” He slurs. He’s cute even when he’s shit face drunk. The hand that’s been funneling through his hair moves down to cover his face.
I roll my eyes and pull the hand. I actively ignore how his skin pulses against mine when I touch him.
“Let’s go,” I say. “Can I have two bottles of water?” I call out to the bartender.
He nods and hands me two bottles shaking his head when I try to hand him a wad of cash I pull out.
“I swear I’ll leave you here. Let’s go,” I instruct again.
His eyes pop open, he lifts his head and turns his whole body, his arms wrap around my waist as he holds me tight against him. His shoulders start to shake, and I drop my head back.
I can’t cry. Not right now. Not here. I try to talk to him calmer, coasting him to come with me.
“Dabin, just come with me,”
He looks up at me, his watery eyes blinking. “I’m sorry, Jasmine. Are you mad at me? I’m mad at me. You should just leave me here. I don’t,” He hiccups. “Deserve you. I don’t deserve you,” he repeats the phrase, his tears coming down slowly.
My eyes burn with every tear that soaks through my dress. I can’t keep doing this to myself. This is the last time, I promise while wiping my eyes quickly. I pull at his arms until he stands. I shoot Christian a glare before leaving with my arms around Dabin’s waist and his arm on my shoulder.
Luckily get him seated and buckled isn’t hard. He falls asleep as soon as I start driving. He wakes up when we’re just about ten minutes from my place. His head taps against my window, only stopping to take large sips of his water. He’s sober enough to be embarrassed now. The air in the car is filled with tension from everything he doesn’t say and everything I don’t yell.
I never yell. Not at him. I can’t bring myself to do it. Why can’t I just hold him accountable for his actions?
I grip the steering wheel tight in my hand.
“You can’t keep doing this to me,” I whisper. My throat feels dry from all the tears I’ve been keeping back.
“I know,” he says softly. “I’m sorry,”
“I can’t be in your life like this anymore, Dabin. Not when-,” I still love you.
I cut myself off quickly.
“Are you, though? It seems to me that you’re fine with keeping me around just so I can come clean up after you,”
Dabin stops banging his head on my window and looks straight ahead out the windshield. For however long we’ve been together I never got tuned to his thoughts. I can pick up his mood, but I would never be able to tell you exactly what he’s thinking. I used to think that it was because weren’t able to get close, but that’s not it. That’s just him. He knows how to hide well.
“Have you ever heard of classical conditioning?”
I roll my eyes because I know where he’s going. He’s not wrong but right now I don’t give a damn about Pavlov and his dog. I pull my lip between my teeth a habit that happens when I’m trying to hold my tongue. Snapping on him does nothing. Telling him that he’s slowly turning into a dependent mess won’t help either.
“I was on a date, Dabin. I was with my boyfriend in his apartment about to eat pasta because for the first time in a long time I wanted to be with someone else,” I sigh as I come to a stop at a red light.
“And then you call and it’s like I’m Pavlov’s dog again. I see Christian’s stupid name and dopamine just shoots up to my brain because it’s you. Because for some reason my dumbass is ok with you being a douchebag because at least I get to see you again. At least you want me again,”
Dabin looks at me for the first time since he got in my car. His dark hair is a little longer, his full lips a usually pretty pink are so pale like he’s been gnawing on them.
He pushes his hands through his hair and drops his hair back on the seat. His eyes close again.
“Next time just don’t come,”
“Fuck, Dabin. You think I’m going to just let you fucking die of alcohol poisoning. Get your shit together and then I won’t have to stop my life every single fucking time,”
We’re silent for the rest of the ride home. I know he’s still too drunk to have a real conversation. And I’m hungry, tired, and if I’m honest sexual frustrated.
I park in my building’s lot and wait for him to get out. He moves slowly, still stumbling a little but at least he can walk on his own. Still, I hook an arm around his waist so he doesn’t fall and knock his head.
When we get up to my place I let us in. I watch as he flops on my couch, his head thrown back and eyes shut. I roll my eyes in frustration and go to get him some Advil, blankets, and a pillow from my room. I set it all in his lap before going into my room to get ready for bed.
I leave my door open so I can see him from my bed. This is what you do for people you love. You take care of them. You make sure they’re safe and comfortable. But there’s a limit. There shouldn’t be and obviously, right now there isn’t but I run every time he calls; only to be reminded in the morning when he’s gone before I wake up that nothings changed. It’s a cycle of that we’re stuck in. And as much as I could yell and scream, as bad as he feels in the morning, nothing will ever change.
When he’s this close again, as bad as it seems, I know that I don’t want it to.
