#gonna kms this is the worst thing i've ever written
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Hoping, praying, crying, trembling, please no one read this please it's so bad please. you're going to have to ignore all the typos literally couldn't bring myself to reread this
Richjake Week prompt 1: Rain!!
Word count: 1.6k
Summary: Rich and Jake have a very important conversation. In the rain.
Rich decided a month ago that heās going to tell Jake when itās raining.Ā
He has the image clearly in his head: the sky opening up, mourning for his soon-to-be lost relationship with raindrops Rich decides to see as metaphorical tears. Thereās of course an atmosphere of catastrophe in his mind, upheld by the fire in the background and the SQUIP standing behind him, seething out acids that only marred Richās body further.
Itās raining now- a harbinger of his doom- and his body feels like it's on fire again. The world is on fire, all the while it's being simultaneously doused and reinvigorated. Jakeās shadow on the concrete in front of Rich only makes it worse.
āI canāt tell if you want me to cuddle you or go away,ā Jake says. He tries to take on a joking edge to his tone, the lilt in his voice alight despite the fact the sun isnāt, and Rich offers up a skeleton of a laugh in response. Jake frowns as he sits, tense and hesitant, on the other end of the bench.
Rich pulls his knees up to his chest. Theyāre outside in the summer rain (though itās really only a drizzle), Rich having decided to face his reality head-on rather than hide from it among the walls of their apartment. Their apartment (he doesn't deserve that).
Heās curled up on a small, cushioned bench, his side pressed against the armrests as he tries to broaden the space between him and Jake as much as humanly possible.
āI still canāt tell,ā Jake whispers and this time around itās almost soft, his hesitance audible in the small, shaky breath he takes afterward. Rich watches the rain.Ā
āI want you to stay," he says as if it's simple.
Jake doesnāt seem reassured in the slightest. He remains in the same position as before: back straight, hands on his knees, eyes following Richās every movement with a starved type of desperation that echoes.Ā
āOkay,ā he says, āBut what do you want me to do?ā
Rich shrugs, the words he knows he needs to say so close to physically manifesting them as a fatal blockage in his throat he has to choose between opening his mouth and having vomit spill out or leaving Jake in pained silence.Ā
āCan Iā¦fuck, Rich, youāre not giving me much to work with here. IāI want to help. Tell me how.ā
Rich watches the rain. He watches and decides he hates it. He hates that it has to ruin what heās so carefully cultivated. He fought like hell to keep Jake. Heād watched Jake try to leaveāheād watched his expressions as he found out about the SQUIP, about the full extent of Richās lies and all the ways Jake had been ruined by them. Heād almost left. Rich fought to keep him, begged and promised, and struggled to keep those promises but succeeded nonetheless. He won. It isnāt fair that now he has to fight all over again, has to pick back up his metaphorical sword, and argue until his tongue is bleeding and his lungs are on the verge of collapse just to convince Jake heās worth a second chance. A third.Ā
Though thereās some invisible hand on his throat, squeezing his vocal cords and chest with a borderline sociopathic effervescence, he whispers, āI have a secret.ā
He watches the rain and doesnāt watch Jakeās innate radiance dim to barely an ember.Ā Jake's nails dig into his knees, the image of Chloe with another man, Chloe with a girl, flashing in his head. He can't lose Rich too.
āYouā¦" he tries, "Okay. Okay. Itās okay. Iām listening.ā
Jake shifts closer. Rich almost falls off the bench in his attempts to get farther away, to stretch the distance, to not let Jake touch him or see him or know him or get angry. He pulls the sleeves of his sweatshirt from his wrists to his knuckles, hiding as much skin from Jakeās view as possible.
āYouāre gonna be angry at me.ā
Lies. Jake doesnāt get angry. He gets defensive, sure. Heāll build up every possible barrier within a moment, isolating himself from Rich and everyone else before Rich can even finish whatever incriminating sentence heās trying to say, but he doesnāt get angry. Not like Richās dad does.
Jake doesnāt seem as aware of this rule as Rich is. He hesitates before he responds, and when he does, he doesnāt deny Rich.Ā
āIām not going to hurt you,ā he says, and the words are so carefully chosenācherry-picked from a stockpile, organized just so Rich would be assured without being condoned---that Rich almost falls for the pretty picture Jake paints. He's knocked out of the delusion as he remembers hearing that exact sentence in a romance movie two weeks earlier.
āYeah, well," Rich says.
Jake inches closer again, this time just close enough so he can brush his knuckles up against Rich's elbow. Rich thinks he might faint, but he keeps his body so completely unresponsive that even someone as clairvoyant as Jake doesnāt notice the deep-rooted discomfort twisting in his stomach. Without a sign to stop, Jakeās touch solidifies into something precious, something golden and rare. He doesn't let go.
āTalk to me, baby, please.ā
Baby. Heās so casual with it, so confident in his relationship with Rich that he can slip in pet names and touch Rich without feeling like the entirety of him is imploding.
Rich hates it. Rich hates that he canāt kiss Jake. He hates that he canāt go out to dinner with him without worrying about what the waiter thinks, what the people next to them think, what his father would think if he ever looked at Rich long enough to know whatās going in in the rest of his life. He hates the rain. He hates that every time Jake tries to reach outāto bridge the gap Rich has been meticulously building ever since Jake first whispered I love youāRich wants to puke. Because if Jake gets too close, if he touches Rich for too long, heāll be able to feel the femininity in Richās hips, in the build of his hands, in the spaces between the cracks in his body. Heāll know and heāll never look at Rich the same. Heāll know and heāll treat Rich like the rain.Ā
Rich clenches his jaw.
āIām trans.ā
Jakeās still holding Richās elbow. Heās completely silent, completely still, barely existent beyond the persistent heat of being alive. Then, the words slurring together with quiet confusion, āSoā¦ so youāre a girl?ā
Rich is going to die. Rich is going to die. Rich is going to die. Rich is going to die. Richā
āNo! No, I mean youāreāyouāre a boy? Whichā¦ which direction?ā
Rich is too disoriented, too scared, to respond. He practically falls off the bench in his attempt to standāto escapeāan action that Jake mimics as he scrambles after him, hands fumbling to grab on again, to touch him, to know himā
Jakeās fingers tangle in Richās sweatshirt, gripping onto that rather than his actual forearms.Ā
āHey,ā he says, louder than the rain. Then, more reassuring, āHey, baby, Iām sorry, stop, Iāmāā
Jake doesnāt get angry. Jake will get defensive and, as Rich learns the moment he finally manages to open his eyes and face the consequences of his prevaricate lifestyle, Jake gets scared. Utterly, simply, wholly, scared.Ā
āIām sorry,ā Jake says, eyes so wide and desperate Rich is sure heāll cut himself on Jakeās gaze. The finality of his apology is either the inevitable breakup Rich has been anticipating for the past weeks or a confirmation of every hope he hasnāt dared dream.Ā
āItās okay.ā Itās not.
āIāI donāt know what toāyouāof course, IāIām not upset.ā
Richās response comes on instinct.Ā
āIām not a girl.ā
Jake nods like heās accepted a command rather than told a factādetermined, focused, ready to die on the words heād just been told.
āOkay. So your nameās still Rich?ā
āYes.ā
āYouāre still my boyfriend?ā
āYes.ā
āSoā¦ so nothingās really gonna change?ā
Rich wants to laugh. Nothingās really gonna change? Does Jake not feel like lightning just struck their home and left the entire thing in ashes? Can he not see how hyper-aware Rich is of every fiber of his being, from the curves heād skillfully hidden with Jakeās hoodieātoo big, purposefully chosen for this conversation so Jake wonāt search for the signs heād missed for so longāto the place where Jakeās thigh presses against his own, so close and warm and knowing?
He swallows either a smile or a sob and whispers, āNot if you donāt want it to.ā
Jake makes a sound of frustration.Ā
āBut what do you want? IāI donāt know what Iām supposed to be saying right now, Richie, IāmāI donātāā
Rich guesses Jake has never seen a movie to base his personality off of for this scenario.Ā
āJustāā Jake tries, gripping harder to Richās arm, this time his fingers pressing into Richās veins and muscles. āJust tell me what to say. Or do. I love you. I want you happy. With me. I want you to know I support you and youāre still my boyfriend and this doesn't change anything but youāre kind of looking at me like Iām insane or going to hurt you and I donāt know what to say to prove that isnāt true, and this is clearly important to you, and I honestly donāt know why Iām the one freaking out when you just fucking came out to me but pleaseāā
Rich gets on his tippy toes and kisses the rest of Jakeās panicked rant off of his lips. Jake plunges into it, and Rich isnāt sure if itās because heās grateful to be back in familiar territory (Jake can do kissing, Jake can do physical) or if heās glad to have confirmation that Rich isnāt angry with him. Between the feeling of Jakeās arms creeping around his waist with a careful certainty to squeeze the life out of him and the rain, picking up now that Rich had gotten the hard part over with, he doesnāt get the chance to figure it out.
āThat was good enough,ā Rich says, lips coated with a disgustingly perfect mix of Jakeās spit and rainwater.
āOh, thank fucking god. Thank you.ā
He wraps himself around Rich, closer than heās ever been before, pressed into Richās space like heās trying to taste it all before he drowns. Nuzzled against Richās shoulder, either shaking from anticipation or shivering through his now soaking-wet clothes, he whispers, āSo proud of you baby, reallyābut did this have to happen in the rain?ā
āYes. You have no fucking idea, Jake. Yes, it did.ā
#richjake week 2023#totally didn't do this last minute literally less than an hour before midnight#shut uuuuuppppppp#gonna kms this is the worst thing i've ever written#literally praying no one reads it#please#for the love of fucking god#richjake#jake dillinger#rich goranski#bmc#be more chill#never opening tumblr again no one look at this bullshit#tw internalized transphobia#kinda?#maybe?#idfkkkkkkkk jskfjdskjghkjdhgjdhf#hate myself rn that was so bad#y'all have NO IDEA
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