#AFTER THE JAY GHOST HC I CANT LET GO OF THE MUTUAL HAUNTINGS 😭😭😭😭😭

[luv-beam]

okay yk exactly how i feel abt this whole fic (flashbacks of toasters in bathtubs, cyanide in the wine) but i also just wanna talk abt how actions are written short and thoughts are long, and i was reading the fic again and was able to put it into words finally — like u understand how to mix sentence length and it SHOWS so well

pacing on fire /pos,, the way this makes me hold my own breath and envision each micromovement jake does :'))) every catch in his breath and every inkling of doubt makes me reach for him 😭😭😭

OKAY BUT ALSO this is what i meant by putting jakeypoo thru the ringer lately 💔 like maaaan i feel like ur always able to write this guy as the dog w the whine always caught in his throat but like in the most DECADENT way possible,, , like some people r really good at writing angst for certain people and that's u w jake 😭😭 (to my detriment 💔💔)

yep,,, also how jake and yn can't go back to their past selves and their past relationship, how it used to be — the end of a relationship is a death in its own right...... who died that night: u or me

— things we never said

s. jaeyun x gn!reader

wc: 1.8k genre: angst (i think) content: exes!au, mentions of alcohol consumption, aespa's ningning and winter cameos for naming purposes only. normal people inspired. misc. notes: thank you to the jake fuckers (@gluion @mosviqu) for being my motivation to 1) write this drabble and more importantly 2) Finish this drabble. kept you in my thoughts when i wrote this xoxo. also a specific thank you to @sungbeam for being the first person to read it in full. and lastly, a special thank you to paul mescal for being just the perfect amount of pathetic i needed in bbc's miniseries normal people.

synopsis: in which it's heeseung's wedding, jake's had too much to drink, and really, he just misses you. perhaps what happens after are the things he should never say.

jake’s shoes squeeze too tight around his toes.

realistically, through the haze of the alcohol, he knows he should be worried about other things. maybe any other thing, like how he needs to figure out how to get this champagne stain out of his shirt before his company dinner on friday, or how the bass of the dj's last set is still ringing in his ears, or how he's pretty sure this little escapade would probably qualify as date-ditching, considering the way yizhuo has been texting him 'where r u??' for the past twenty minutes.

jake's head buzzes, the aftertaste of his last beer resting firm on his tongue. in retrospect, perhaps the fourth glass he filled right before they cut the cake was one too many, but it’s too late to regret it now. the glass is sitting empty on the table, and instead of being out on the dance floor with the rest of his friends, jake is here—under the gazebo, heart in throat, phone in hand. his thumb hovers over the contact, still saved, and stares for a long time.

he shouldn’t. he knows he shouldn’t.

(not that it really matters. knowing better and doing better are two things jake has never been very good at keeping the same.)

he hits call.

the dial rings and rings and rings. jake can’t tell if he’s breathing or not, he just keeps listening to the endless tinny trilling. and then— 

“hello?”

“hi.” his voice catches. “it’s me.”

you pause, the silence crackling over the speaker. “what’s up?”

jake’s throat goes tight, tongue heavy as he tries to fumble his way around his words. your voice is just like he remembers, intimately close even from the speaker. he wonders what he can say, to make up for the months of not speaking to each other. how are you? how’s work? do you still set 5 alarms in the morning before you have to wake up so you can enjoy the feeling of going back to sleep?

“it’s heeseung’s wedding today,” he says eventually. you didn’t show up.

there’s a beat of silence, before:

“i know,” you reply gently, the silent accusation he doesn’t mean to throw landing softly between the two of you. “i already called him this morning to say congratulations. there’s a wedding gift that should be shipped soon, actually,” you continue, as if it makes your absence any better. “i think he’ll like it, you know. he’s been talking about getting that coffee grinder on his wedding registry before that registry even existed—”

“y/n.”

the line goes completely quiet, like you’re bracing yourself for what he could say next. normally he would leave it be, set down the phone and apologize and go back to the venue to celebrate with the rest of his friends. but right now, jake is drunk, and his head hurts, and all the sounds ring around him and merge together into a single sound, pressed tight against his ear. his chest feels rubbed raw, the burning question flickering and coming out all in a rush. “did you not come because of me?”

“jake,” you chide, almost immediately. he missed the way you say his name, even like this. “you know that’s not it.”

he laughs a little and rubs the back of his neck, feeling scolded. just like old times. “isn’t it?”

there’s a disapproving noise on the other end, like you take offense in him even having doubts. “you know i wish i could have been there.”

jake hesitates, just a little. it’s a stupid thought, and it would be even stupider to say, but he supposes he should keep the streak going, since he’s already started tonight. “you could still come.” 

you let out a small laugh, entertaining the thought. “yeah?”

jake nods, as if you can hear it. maybe you can. maybe you didn’t have to, to know. “yeah, the night is still young. i’m sure everyone would be happy to see you again—you could come right now, if you really wanted to.”

“and do what, exactly?” you tease.

he shrugs, smiling. “give a belated toast? we all gave one, you know.”

“oh, and heeseung agreed to that?”

“as if he could stop us,” jake counters. “we had to make sure the bride knew what she was marrying! one embarrassing story from each of us!”

“and pray tell,” you say, bemused, “what story did you share with the audience? no wait—let me guess.” you hum, as if tapping your chin for the exaggerated effect. “the time he tried to flirt with that senior in the library and fell on his ass because he missed the chair? or the time when—oh! what about when he got drunk and wanted to get matching tattoos with everyone and then started crying the second it started cause it hurt so bad?”

“no, actually,” jake laughs. “sunghoon and jay already took those. mine was about when he accidentally hit on riki’s mom the entire night and found out the morning after.”

“you better have turned those stories into anecdotes about how happy their marriage is going to be,” you warn wryly.

jake waves you off. “sunoo and jungwon got the sentimental part. we were in charge of making sure minjeong knew what she was getting herself into.”

you sigh exasperatedly, something rustling on your end. maybe the papers you were reorganizing on your desk, or the tinfoil on the table as you tried to heat up a late night snack. “so much for adulthood—all you boys are the same.”

the same. as if he wasn’t here and you weren’t there, so, so far away.

“you could still come.” jake repeats. it’s a sobering effect. at least, he’d like to think so, but he’s still trying his hardest for his tongue to not stumble over some words, and he can’t look at the fairy lights adorning the top of the gazebo for too long before his head starts to pound again. 

“you could tell your favorite memory of heeseung to make up for ours,” he continues, “write down your congratulations on the wedding book yourself. they’re even playing your favorite song right now, you could come and show everyone how it’s done.” jake fumbles with the ring on his index finger, twisting it with his thumb. the heel of his shoe scuffs once into the wood below his feet. it’s all too tight. “come—have fun. we could even pretend not to know each other.”

the line goes quiet. a breath drawn. and then, softly, “i would never pretend to not know you, jake.”

he blinks, swallowing hard. it would be funny, if it weren’t so sad, the way jake was the one who called you, yet he’s the one without anything to say. rather, the things he wants to say, he can’t. you would have cried at the vows, he thinks. the exchanging of promises at the altar, rings slipped onto each other’s fingers. you were always soft for those kinds of things. 

(everyone looked at heeseung and minjeong when they said their vows. the words creep up his throat; he pushes them back down. i thought of you instead.)

jake is sure everyone knows, to some degree, at least. it’s why heeseung looked at him a little strange when he saw his date at the entrance, why everyone seemed to avoid mentioning your name like the plague around him. it’s not for lack of trying—moving past you. it’s why he brought yizhuo along in the first place, why he’s been doing everything he can to distract himself, why he’s been trying his best to not think of you again.

but tonight was different. tonight, where all his friends are gathered to celebrate, and the alcohol in his system warms his skin as the evening air grows chilly, and everyone he loves is here within reach except for you, jake finds that he’s still admitting it to himself, even months after.

(i miss you. more words he can’t say to you anymore. i miss you, i miss you, i miss you.)

“sorry,” he says eventually. jake isn’t really sure what for. maybe all of it.

“i…” you start out, but it trails off into silence. maybe it would have been an apology to match, but he thinks you knew it wouldn’t have sounded right either. there wasn’t really anything left to say. jake is here, and you’re there, and that distance isn’t really something either of you can fill anymore.

across the garden, jake can hear his name echoing across the venue. he’s pretty sure it’s sunoo, telling him to get his ass on the dance floor to get down to the dj’s newest rendition of apple bottom jeans, but it all sort of meshes together between the bushes and the trees.

“you should go,” you say lightly. “dance off the rest of the alcohol so you don’t wake up with a massive hangover tomorrow.”

you knew. jake burns a little out of embarrassment, feeling a bit like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. he doesn’t know what’s worse, the fact that you could tell he was drunk from the beginning, or the fact that this meant you knew the first person he thought to drunk-dial was you.

“oh, don’t act surprised.” it’s a light-hearted jibe, but jake’s heart crawls up his throat and sits there, thick. “your pronunciation always gets sloppy when you’ve had too many drinks.”

of course you knew. you always did, like he never needed to say anything at all.

“you got me,” he responds, hoarse.

“what did you get this time? whiskey? margaritas? no way you got this drunk off hard seltzers—”

“beer.” sunoo calls his name again, closer, more insistent. “one too many.”

you laugh, and he wants to drown in it a little more, until he remembers it enough to not miss you anymore. “the great jake sim, taken down by an IPA.”

maybe he should thank it, if it got you to speak to him again. the skin sitting underneath his ring burns red. he needs to take off his tie. his shoes are still too tight around his toes. “i wish you were here.” maybe there were some things he needed to say, after all.

you smile, fond. he can’t see it, but there are some things about you he just knows, too. “bye, jake.”

but in the end, this is all there is to it: a him, and a you, and two versions of each other that you both can’t come back to. not anymore.

and that’s something that never needs to be said.

jake looks at the center of the altar, and he thinks he sees a glimpse of something else—the afterimage of love, a vision of two people left stranded from time. it disappears as quickly as it came. his breath hitches. there’s nothing left but this.

“bye, y/n.”