on being real
โI donโt want to date you anymore, Jackson.โ
The silver fork he was holding in his left hand fell onto the marble floor, crashing the silence caused by your announcement. Jackson was visibly irritated, big frowns on his face.
โYouโฆ what? Why?โ
For days you had been practicing this moment, imagining how you would explain your reasons and set him free. And even though you went over this moment hundreds of times, you were not prepared for the gravel pit of anxiety in your stomach. You didnโt do this because you didnโt want him, no. Your feelings were as strong as ever, but Jackson never opened up, he never let you take a look behind his porcelain faรงade. You decided to no longer waste your time with someone that only portrayed his good sides.
โI donโt feel like knowing you, Jackson. You only show me your good sides, you never share your problems with me. I justโฆโ, you stumbled to find the right words.
โSay it, y/nโ, he urged you with a serious tone.
โI feel like Iโm dating a fake.โ
Ouch, the pit grew bigger.
Jackson hid his face behind his hands, shielding himself from you. You didnโt think it would affect him that much, but his silent sobs gave him away.
โIโm sorry, Jackson.โ
It didnโt take long for him to change into his real self, which you finally saw for the first time after months of dating. His eyes, always sparkly but never serene, turned dead, drained from life and love. You silently gasped, surprised to see the abyss behind the veil.
Jackson broke out in laughter as he wiped away his tears.
โDating a fake, huh?โ
Tears started to form in your eyes, seeing him like that broke your heart.
โWhat do you want to know, y/n? How broken I really am? You think youโre going to love that?โ, he spat sarcastically.
You couldnโt answer, you didnโt dare to. Jackson took another sip of his drink, grimacing in pain.
โShall we talk about my crippling depression, then? You want to know what thatโs like? To lie awake every night wondering if this is the life I want, the one that I deserve? Shall we talk about the accompanying anxiety which is clouding my mind 24/7? Am I doing enough? Am I true to myself? Is this really who I am? Shall we talk about my sweaty hands and rapid heartbeat? Me wondering if Iโm about to drop dead any minute? Is that it?โ
He paused and observed you, not understanding the reason behind your tears.
โOr shall we talk about my health problems? Did you notice how badly Iโm griding my teeth? Should I tell you that my jaw is tense as fuck and my teeth are overly sensitive? That drinking and eating anything but warm liquor is making me wince in pain? You think Iโm this skinny because Iโm on a diet? No, y/n, far from it. Should I tell you how frustrated I am because I have tried literally anything, and no one can help me? You wanna know what thatโs like? To be helpless in your own body? To be betrayed by your own fucking body?โ
Your eyes wandered to the glass in his hands, finally understanding why he was always drinking so much. Jackson started pacing through the room while bearing his darkest secrets.
โOr shall we talk about the people Iโm seeing for help? Because Iโve seen them all, y/n. I searched through whole fucking Asia, and everybody is saying the same shit. Itโs all in your head, Jackson. Do you know how fucked up that is? Neither antidepressants nor the shit for my teeth is helping me and you wanna know why? Because apparently, itโs in my head. My body is hurting because my soul is hurting. Isnโt that hilarious?โ
Jackson spilled some of his liquor, trying to make a point.
โOr letโs not forget about my love life, y/n. You wanna know what thatโs like? You wanna know how much energy it took to portray myself as normal? I wanted you to think of me as strong and healthy and full of life but now youโre breaking up with me because that was, what, fake? I did all of this so you would never realize how broken, fragile, and weak I am. But I guess that wasnโt the right way to go about it either.โ
Another layer of sadness washed over his face, tinting his brown eyes in even deeper despair. Jackson took a seat on the couch and hid behind his hands again, wondering why he told you all of this if you were already over him.
He flinched in surprise as he felt your arms around him, hugging him tightly. For once he just gave in and hugged you back, crying silently in your embrace.
โThank you for telling me, Jackyโ, you whispered sweetly into his ear. โThis is exactly what I wanted.โ
He looked at you surprised, so you explained yourself.
โI fell in love with you because you were a real one. Standing in your truth and being true to who you are. Thatโs how I have always perceived you, anyways. But then when we started dating, and I never got to know that side of yours. You were too perfect, in a way. And I donโt want perfect. I want real, Jacky.โ
His thumb brushed along your cheek, tracing down to your jaw.
โHow could you possibly want that?โ, his hoarse voice croaked.
You chuckled in response.
โIโm not perfect, Jackson. And I donโt want to be. Donโt you think I get depressed from time to time? We can cry together then. And yes, the thing with your teeth sucks. But I will love you even if you get new ones. And besides that, my teeth donโt hurt but my head does. Often, I get insufferable migraines and have to lie in a pitch-black room, I flinch at light like Dracula himself. Do you think I like that? No, but we all have something. You make it sound like you have to be perfect to be loved. But you donโt.โ
The newfound spark in his eyes was noticeable, if only for a quick moment.
โI agree with the people youโve been seeing, though. Your soul is hurting, Jackson. And thatโs okay.โ
You grabbed his hand and squeezed it lightly, looking at him hopeful.
โYou donโt have to heal on your own though. Iโd like to helpโฆ if you let me?โ















