Not Afraid Of The Dark PT.2
Pairing: Jack Abbott x reader
reader isn't described or gendered.
Even days later, Jack's words still haunted you, especially at night, or when you were drunk, or when you’re drunk by noon. Which is the only time you’re not at work or asleep. You’ve been picking up every extra shift you could. This made it harder to avoid Jack. He wasn't pushy or overbearing.
He was just there, over your shoulder, on the roof. The roof, which you hadn't been on, which only put a stop to the routine you'd come to be so familiar with. So you'd been hiding in your office. Which you never used, so it ended up as a storage room. Lucky for you, no one thought to look there. You hid behind walls of files and storage boxes.
Going up into the ER to retrieve bodies was normally easy. That was until it turned into a game of 'avoid Jack Abbot', which seemed to be the constant description of your life. If it wasn't hiding in your office, it was under the basement stairwell. The rooftop is temporarily banned from use, at least for you. Facing Jack felt like an impossible task. Like any other day, you had a normal inflow of deceased. charting, storing, it was busy work at best. Sure, today wasn't the best, yeah, okay, maybe you were using the last few minutes of your shift crying in your office. You were bigger than this.
So you gathered yourself up and grabbed your things from your locker. The roof was a strong contender to smoking a cigarette in your car. And you could take a ten-minute smoke and be gone before Jack even gets off shift. So you take the elevator up to the last floor. Leading yourself to the staircase that leads to the roof. Finding your spot past the railing, on that hard concrete edge that's provided you more comfort than anything else in this hospital. Well, except for one thing.
But that wasn't your main focus at the moment. Your playlist humming a quiet tune in your ears. Desperately digging through your bag, in search of your lighter, past your music, you hear that oh-so familiar creak of the rooftop door. Your shoulders tense, and you freeze.
"Oh," you hear from behind you. It’s very easy to tell who said it. So you turn around, facing him. Your hands digging into rough concrete, cigarette still unlit between your lips. You mumbled out a slight 'hey' past it. tugging your headphones out of your ear. Jack just stared at you before giving a short "hey" and turning away.
You stop him, his name drawing from your lips like an arrow. An arrow that pierced right through him. he stands there, facing away, as if the sight of you would shock him. It was odd to see him like that. Not jumping headfirst into a situation like he knew how the situation would end. But not this time. He turns his head over his shoulder. His eyes met yours, like they had opposite charges. His teeth sink into the chapped skin of his lip.
"I lost my lighter, was hoping I could borrow yours." You quipped, trying to fall into the casual wavelength that you'd missed desperately. holding the cig out to him, watching as he fumbles to get his backpack off. His hand pulling out a Zippo that had seen better days. flicking it open to an open flame, which you use until the tip of your Marlboro red is a burning ember. turning back to looking over the edge. Jack stood quietly behind you before swinging his leg over the middle of the fence and sitting a safe distance away from you.
“I didn’t mean to scare you off.” He admits, tucking the lighter back into his military bag. “We can forget it happened if you want. Whatever makes you comfortable.” It’s said with such a genuine tone that it aches. Guilt bubbles in your stomach as you pull your knees up to your chest. Sitting there like a crying child. Tear tracks still staining your cheeks.
“No, Jack, I—“ you shook your head, hand rubbing over your eyes. “I’m not uncomfortable.” You muttered, you didn’t want to just up and forget about it.
He lets out a small scoff, a smile slipping onto his lips. You can’t tell if it’s sarcasm or something else you can’t name.
“Could’ve fooled me.” Your gaze snaps to him, shock written over your face. Like he had snapped you out of your saddened mood. He had a way with sad individuals, an odd skill that he often saved for those close to him. He picks up on your look and has to hold back his grin. “You’re allowed to reject me, y’know. As long as you can ignore the kicked puppy look, I’ll give you.” He gestures loosely to his face, where he gives you his very best pout. You smile as your eyes fall back onto your knees.
“Funny,” you quip, your eyes falling back over the edge. Flicking the ash off the tip of your cigarette. Which is just being used as incense at this point.
“Wasn’t trying to be.” He raises his hands in mock surrender. “I'm a very serious person.” You look over to see the self-assured grin on his face. You quietly laugh to yourself. This was nice, slipping into silent familiarity with him next to you. Passing the half burnt cig back and forth. Your head leaned back against the hard metal of the railing.
“I missed this,” you admitted quietly, “a lot more than I thought I would.” Jack looks over, like he’s waiting for you to say more, which is when you make the disastrous decision to spill your guts.
It all rushes out of you, every thought, every insecurity and concern. Your every secret tied to Jack Abbott is laid out to dry. As. And he just stares, you can’t tell if he’s processing it or debating jumping to get away from you faster. Which the chances of that being in his train of thought were low. But at this point, anything was possible. And when you finally shut your mouth, he’s still staring. The silence is now suffocating.
“Did you say three years?” His words break the silence. He looks completely dumbfounded.
“That’s what you’re worried about?” Annoyance floods your system. Eyebrows raised as you gesture in confusion.
“Three years is a long time, can you blame me for questioning that?” He laughs, but it's halfheartedly. “Sorry, just- three years, really?” He gives you a look, you can’t tell if he’s teasing you.
“It was like two and a half, don’t get your hopes up.” You try and joke, and it falls flat. You wince at the silence it draws out.
“Funny,” he mocks your prior words with a sharp grin. Not cruel, not out of malice. Just teasing, which had been happening this entire conversation anyway. It was hard to take the situation seriously when he smiles at you like this. as if you’s hung the moon and the stars just for him.
“Dwell on something else loverboy.” You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the flush of your cheeks. His eyes never fell away from you, never in these moments. Never falling to the temptation over the edge, or the exit back into the hospital. Always you.
“Fine,” he waved his hand at you mockingly. Letting the moment simmer between you two, just a second longer than it needed to. “Let me take you out. Wherever you want.” He spoke up, doing that stare that’s so entirely him.
“Anywhere?” You questioned.
Jack woke up to an empty bed, which wasn’t particularly unusual. But it was surely never a treat. He sat up, grabbing his leg from the side of his nightstand and making his way to the kitchen, which is where he found you. Dancing vividly to whatever music was blasting in your headphones. In a t-shirt and underwear parading around like his own personal prize. Best he’s ever won if you asked him.
You jumped back when you caught sight of him staring like a creep. Huffing and turning back to whatever you had on the stove. It smelled delicious, he had learned to stop questioning your cooking skills months ago. Trying your odd food combos and favorite dishes. but practically living in your apartment was new.
He walked closer, peeking over your shoulder. Making a small sound of content before kissing your cheek and walking to the coffee maker to start a fresh pot. But there it was waiting for him, hot coffee, in his mug. The same mug he used every morning without fail.
He had concluded that it was impossible to not pick up on each other’s habits at this point. And it surely wasn’t just him who had noticed. Both robby and Dana were onto him. And while it wasn’t exactly a secret, it felt like something that was just his.
Your rooftop escapades had lessened, maybe an honor system, maybe the urge just wasn’t there anymore. Sure dating jack didn’t magically fix your issues. Nothing would. But you were there for him as much as he was there for you. You’d coached each other through enough panic attacks to have it down by now. It was nice, domestic even. Which wasn’t a word you’d use sparingly. Especially with the way you’d lived so long. Alone, in a room that was always dark with clothes strewn about. For a long time you wouldn’t let jack come over. Always having an excuse burning a hole in your back pocket.
But not anymore. There were few secrets, a mutual trust that came with talking each other away from death repeatedly.
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