@onamoonshadow gets a thing bc i’m cryin
TENSION lingers heavily in the air --- hell, it lingers heavily in every inch of his body. he can feel it in his knuckles, curled into tight fists at his side ( as if he’s channeling the WORST of his feelings into a single focal spot --- god, what he wouldn’t do for a good sandbag to hit right about now ). he can feel it in his shoulders, his stomach, even down to his toes. they’re both lucky and unlucky, in a way --- with the kids out of the house, there’s nothing, really, to hold anything back. no fear of their children overhearing or witnessing one of the LESS THAN PERFECT moments in the marriage of jack and rebecca pearson. part of him is prepared to leave; to give his wife space. to get some fresh air himself ( and try not to end up at a bar somewhere, drowning his pain, yet again ). instead, jack holds his ground. he’d decided a long time ago, that even at their worst, AVOIDING his family wasn’t an option. ISN’T. it isn’t an option. so he takes it, the yelling, even going as far as to yell back ( though, as always, he restrains himself --- an adamant refusal to end up like his father echoing in his head, even in a moment so filled with emotion ). this is normal, he tells himself, they’re JACK AND REBECCA, but they’re also jack, and rebecca. two human beings who, due to their LOVE and his own stubborn need to outrun his darkest feelings, he sometimes forgets are human. of course, it’s all too clear in a moment like this, as jack finally throws his arms open wide, fists unclenching as he bursts out, frustration filling each word, “so WHAT do you want me to DO, rebecca, huh? because i don’t know if i KNOW anymore, okay? i’m tryin’ here, I AM. a twelve for you, i said it. i haven’t forgotten it. but lately? i don’t even know what it MEANS to be a twelve! i don’t! so just --- just TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT!”