Melodic Memories | Track 5: If You Gotta Go, Go Now - Bob Dylan
In a tattered old box shoved deep down in the corner of an overfilled closet, a lifetimes worth of memories lie dormant at the bottom waiting to be rediscovered.
Masterlist
Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader
Word Count: 11k
Warnings: angst, crying, heartbreak, high school breakups, estranged parent/strained parental relationship, depression, high school drama, anxiety, mentions of drinking, drinking, mentions of hookups/one night stands, unrequited love, very brief mention of suicidal thoughts/ideation, PTSD mentions/explanations of reactions and behaviours due to PTSD, mentions of addiction/drugs, smoking, swearing, best friend fluff, sorry if i miss any!
Hi everyone!! Sorry this took so long—took a much needed break from life for a few days. Finally had some time to write this weekend. I hope you guys like it!! 🤍 as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!
Also a special shout-out to @gretavangroupie and @gretavanmoon for always keeping me on track, putting up with my craziness, and for the unwavering support and encouragement 🤍 melodic memories wouldn’t be what it is without you 😌
Her POV
“Listen to me, baby
There’s something you must see
I want to be with you, gal
If you want to be with me.”
“Jake, please turn that off. I can’t stand it.” You laughed, covering your ears as you tried your best to disappear under the pile of blankets on his bed.
“What?” Jake asked, freezing in place as the words reached his ears. Slowly, he turned from the record player sitting atop his desk, his eyes landing on you with an unfamiliar expression on his face. “Did you really just say that?” His voice was low, challenging you to see if you would say it again, or if he misheard completely.
“Yes.” You groaned, pushing your head further back into the fluffy pillow as you tried your best to avoid his gaze. “I’m sorry, I love you, but I can’t stand Bob Dylan.” You stood your ground, knowing it would cut deep but unable to hide it any longer.
“Are you insane?” Jake’s eyes were wide, his mouth agape with shock as he processed your unruly confession. “How can you not love Dylan? Are you deaf?”
“No, but right now I wish I was.” You mumbled, tuning out the grating harmonica echoing through the room. The crackling of the needle in the groove paired with the irritating pitch of the instrument was making your head ache, and even if you loved him more than anything, you didn’t love him enough to suffer through another song.
“Y/N, I-I… I can’t believe you.” He laughed, his tone airy and uncomfortable as he cranked the volume knob down a little bit. “Sunshine, he’s one of the greats—a literary genius, a folk-rock icon, a fuckin’ mastermind. How can you even say that?”
“I dunno, guess it just isn’t for me. Never really liked him.”
“You’re breaking my heart, baby.” His lips turned down into a frown, his eyes glancing at the vinyl record spinning as he debated turning it off. “You know what? No, I won’t take that as an answer.” He shook his head, turning the knob up again so the sound of the harmonica could be heard clearly again.
“Jake.” You groaned, wishing he would heed your request to change the record. He restarted the song, a hand on his hip as he observed the needle glide over a divot in the old vinyl. Then, after a particularly intense scratching sound, the song started from the beginning again.
As the lyrics began, he started to hum along, ploppping down on the bed beside you. His company made the song a touch more bearable, and staring at his face made it easier to ignore the noise he was trying to pass off as music.
“Seriously, sunshine? None of it?” He asked, still trying to wrap his head around your dislike for the musician.
“It just isn’t for me. Is that a crime?” You giggled, finding his overbearing approach entertaining.
“Usually no, but in this case, absolutely.” He laughed. “Only thing worse than that is if you said you hated B.B. King… or Hendrix, maybe.”
“Okay, well I don’t hate B.B. King, or Hendrix. You can’t let this one slide?” You grinned, shimmying down on the bed to be closer to him. He almost gave in to the temptation, forgetting the topic at hand momentarily as he reached out to brush the hair from your face. Then, he snapped out of the lovestruck trance and remembered why he was sitting next to you in the first place.
“If I let this slide, what’s next? You’ll tell me you hate rock, or blues, or worse, music all together?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly teasing but still very petty over your dislike of the artist.
“Okay, bug, you’re being ridiculous.” You rolled your eyes, reaching for his hand and lacing your fingers with his in another attempt to distract him.
“I’m being ridiculous?” He repeated your words, his tone accusatory yet still playful. “Are you even listening to yourself?”
“Okay, I get it. Dylan is great and I’m crazy. Is that what you want to hear?” You leaned forward, your hand connecting with his bicep as you gave him a gentle shove. He barely moved from his position, his brown eyes sparkling as he looked over your face.
“No, that’s not what I want to hear, because I know you’re lying.” He said, his thumb drifting over the back of your hand. “What about I Shall Be Released? That’s a great song by him.” Your cheeks tinted red in embarrassment as you averted your gaze.
“Don’t think I’ve heard it.” You whispered, unsure how he would take it.
“Okay…” he hummed, raising his free hand to his chin, running his fingers over his skin as he thought. “No, that’s good. I can show it to you, and you’ll like it.” He deducted. “Like a Rolling Stone?”
“That one’s okay.” You emphasized the word, ensuring he understood it was bearable, not enjoyable to you.
“Tangled Up In Blue?” He tried again, met with another blank stare as he listed off a song you didn’t know. He let out a huff, nodding as he made a mental note to show you that one, too. “Alright, then. Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door?”
“Yeah, but I’d much rather listen to the Guns n’—“
“No, I’m going to stop you there.” Jake cut you off, forcing a smile on his lips. “Not sure I want to hear the rest of that.” A silence fell upon the two of you, leaving him to ponder all of the information you had given him. After a while, your stomach was twisted in a knot, worried you’d driven a stake between you because of a simple dislike of the artist.
“So, what now? I don’t like Dylan, which is clearly troubling for you. Is that it for us?” You were joking, even if there was a slight hint of genuine concern behind your question. He looked at you, appalled that you would even suggest such a thing.
“Are you crazy, woman? F’course not.” He replied, a frown tugging at his lips just from the thought alone.
“Been called that once or twice… few times today, actually.” You grinned, easing the tension between you.
“I’d never break up with you over that, sunshine.” All of the humor in his tone disappeared, assuring you that leaving was not something that ever crossed his mind. “But, I won’t quit until you’re a fan. Lots of opportunities here, babe. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be his biggest fan.” You rolled your eyes ever so slightly, but nodded along with his words, knowing he would try even if you objected. Arguably, the worst thought was not hours of listening to Bob Dylan, but the idea of him ever being ‘done’ with you, in any sense of the word.
“Y/N, that is enough.” Mel snipped, rushing into your bedroom with a cloud of dust trailing behind her. In two quick strides, she was beside you, reaching over you to smash the pause button on the CD player. “It’s been three days—I’m done watching you cry, I’m done sitting in silence, and I’m done listening to this fucking Bob Dylan song.” As much as she cared for you, everyone had a breaking point, and she was undoubtedly long past hers. If you were less miserable, you would have recognized how insufferable your actions were, but you were too busy drowning in tears to care about how anyone else felt. “I’m one more bottle of wine away from an intervention, and I’m sure that’s the last thing you want right now.”
“God, why can’t you just let me suffer in peace?” You groaned, burying your aching head in your knees as you sunk further into the leather desk chair.
“I’ve been letting you suffer, dumbass.” She reminded you, plopping down on the edge of your bed. “But I’d hardly call it peaceful.” She continued, placing her hand on the arm of the chair and spinning you to face her. “You’re a mess. You’ve been drunk since two, you haven’t eaten, you’ve barely slept, and you look like shit.”
“Thanks for the words of encouragement.” You muttered, reaching for the wine bottle on your desk to finish off the last of the strawberry flavored heartbreak medication. Before you could place the bottle to your lips, Mel snatched it from your hands and placed it on the floor just out of reach.
“You smell like a distillery. Think you’ve had enough.” She chirped, her expression stern and her voice curt. You scoffed a reply, irritated at the world as you reached over to press play so you could listen to the same harmonica melody that had become an anthem of your sorrow once again. “Stop.” She pulled your chair a little closer to her so you couldn’t reach the desk. “I love you, but I cannot listen to that song again. I can’t fucking stand Bob Dylan.”
“What?” You hissed, whipping your head in her direction. Finally, an emotion other than sadness plagued you; instead, you were filled with anger that she could say such a thing. “Bob Dylan is a great musician, one who wrote absolute masterpieces. Watch what you fuckin’ say.” A slight slur followed your words, making you realize you were much more intoxicated than you previously believed.
You weren’t sure if you actually grew to like Bob Dylan and his music, or if the fondness happened because of the boy who was so adamant about changing your mind on the matter.
“God, you’re impossible.” She seethed, frustrated with your behavior and even more upset that she couldn’t break through the wall you built up.
Mel had spent years perfecting the craft of being your best friend; you were a confusing, closed off vessel of constant anxiety. You hated talking about your feelings, unless it was over a mixed drink or a shared blunt, and you were your own worst enemy. You second-guessed every decision, talked yourself down from taking leaps that would better you in exchange for mundane familiarity, and you loved routine. Despite that, you loved deeply and with a fervor not many could understand, which ultimately always seemed to leave you with a broken heart when nobody could match the same energy.
In six years, she climbed mountains not many would ever venture. She memorized your quirks and habits, just the same as you had done for her. More than anything, she put it to good use and learned how to help when you couldn’t find it within you to help yourself. Every wall you built up, every deflection and every distraction was never a match for her counterpoints, and she had never faced a situation where she felt helpless.
Never, until three days ago, when you returned from your date with Jake Kiszka more heartbroken and miserable than ever before.
In six years, she learned everything she could about you, but she never understood why. Once she stepped foot in Michigan, learning about a life you’d sworn to keep a secret forever, it all began to make sense.
Days before she met you, you faced the biggest obstacle of your entire life, and you left your heart in the back pocket of someone you never expected to see again. You didn’t talk about your problems because you knew they could never amount to the struggle of leaving Jake, and because you got through that on your own, you believed you could do everything by yourself. Not only that, but you kept your feelings locked up in fear all of it would come out, including those in which you swore to never speak aloud. You closed yourself off from everything because you couldn’t bear the thought of getting hurt like that again, and routine was favored over risk-taking because your last risky decision left you near death and you never fully recovered.
Though, no matter how hard you tried, you could never love less than what you were programmed for, and it was biting you in the ass as you sat and forced yourself to listen to a song you couldn’t bear to hear again.
When you stormed through the front door, twenty bucks down from the cab ride and suffocating on your own misery, you had intent to tend to your wounds silently, to slap a band-aid over the largest injury you’d ever sustained and move on as if it never happened at all. You’d done it once before, and you trusted in yourself to do it again, but six years of suffering in silence had taken its toll and you were beginning to crack under the weight of your mistakes.
Difference was, this time, there was someone there to catch you before the fall, someone who was committed to your wellbeing and a voice of reason you never had before.
At first, Mel took a step back, understanding that whatever happened wasn’t good, and you needed time to process it before you spoke of it. If not, you would explode, and neither of you wanted to clean up that mess. So she did; she sat by and watched you nurse a bottle of wine as you listened to the mixtape that started (and ended?) it all, waiting until you had enough courage to speak. When you dozed off for an hour or two of broken sleep in the desk chair you drank yourself to oblivion in, you woke up and started all over again.
The next day, she thought that maybe you would have come to terms with it enough to at least tell her something, but she received nothing. Well, nothing except for the same Dylan song played on loop and a few more empty bottles of strawberry wine you’d silently left the house to buy. When you refused dinner, she started to really worry, and when you neglected to sleep for a second night in a row, she began to stress. In the early morning, she started to gently coax you into telling her what happened, which was met with a blank stare and a rude hand gesture. Before noon, she pried a little further, to no avail. At lunchtime, she was frustrated, and now after dinner, she was long past the point of no return.
Coddling you clearly wasn’t an option you were open to, so instead she settled on tough love, which would either break through to you or ruin your friendship entirely.
She was distraught enough to take the risk, and loved you enough to work through the consequences.
“Tell me what happened, or I’ll call him and ask him myself.” Mel warned, unrelenting as she continued to try and force the truth from you.
“Don’t you dare.” You warned, tears pooling your eyes at the simple thought of someone speaking to Jake, someone who was not you. “Just let it go, Mel. It’s over—don’t have to talk about it, don’t have to think about it. It’s over.” You repeated the word, feeling a separate stab in your chest each time the word passed through your lips.
After everything the two of you went through, how could it just be over? How could the time still not be right?
“No, you don’t have to talk about it, but clearly you’re thinking about it.” She countered, her lips pursed as they dipped down into a frown. “And you won’t stop thinking about it unless you talk about it.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” You grumbled, feeling the pressure behind your eyes increase tenfold as you spoke. Your throat was dry, scratchy despite the constant flow of liquid into your mouth. You were dehydrated, the effects in full force as your eyes throbbed and your stomach twisted with nausea. You were a mess, and you weren’t sure how to clean yourself up this time. “After all the pain, after all of the hope and the luck, it meant fucking nothing. I guess it just isn’t meant for us, and I have to get over it.”
“What happened, Y/N?” Mel pried, wondering what could have caused the state you were in, especially after spending all night with him.
“What happened?” You scoffed, a sour taste in your mouth from her words. “What happened was that I spent six years dedicated to moving on, to forgetting and letting go, to heal from the worst pain I’ve ever experienced. I spent weeks thinking it was luck, that the stars alligned perfectly for us to end up together again, but I was fucking stupid. I let you convince me to open myself up again, and I got hurt worse than I did the first time.” You spat, vindictive and angry at her despite it being nobody’s fault but your own.
“Woah,” Mel straightened up, defensive and ready to correct you on the matter. “Whatever happened, is not my fault. You can be sad, or angry, or whatever the hell you are, but you cannot blame it on me.” The two of you shared another bout of silence, fuming with stony expressions as you awaited the other's next move. “Are you going to be an adult, or do you want to keep acting like a baby? Completely up to you.”
“You wouldn’t get it, anyway.” You brushed her off, turning to face the CD player as you resumed the music once more. She let out a huff of annoyance, knowing she was bluffing as she sat and listened to the intro of the same song for the millionth time, refusing to leave until you gave her something other than blame.
“What, did he end it? Not what he wanted after all?” In a lapse of judgment and slightly hurt feelings, she retaliated with something that would bruise your already aching heart even further. Deep down, she understood Jake was not the one who put the relationship on pause, and she knew you well enough to recognize the guilt embedded in your tired features. You ended it, and you swore yourself to silence so you could beat yourself up over it.
“Oh, fuck you.” You shot back, slinking further down into your seat as tears stung your eyes. “You really think I’d be this upset if I knew he was okay? You think I’d be this miserable if he was happy?”
There it was; the admission of truth she’d been so patiently waiting for. With that, she had more ground to stand on, this time without a fear of falling.
“Why’d you leave, babe?” Her voice was softer, but still erring on the side of caution and defense.
“What else was I supposed to do?!” You exploded, the gates crashing open as the flood of emotion you’d been guarding so hard finally escaped you. “Leaving is the only way I can make sure he won’t throw away everything he’s worked so hard for! He can’t be what he wants if I'm there—or here, holding him back!”
“Okay,” Mel whispered, reaching out and placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Start from the beginning.” She continued, utilizing the briefest moment of time you allowed yourself to be vulnerable to get the full story from you.
You let out an exasperated huff, feeling sick from what you tried to pin on the liquor whilst knowing that it had everything to do with your broken heart. She was your person, just trying her best to help while you did all you could to be miserable and impossible to be around, and you knew that you needn’t be so cruel towards her. Even so, the hurt that only ever seemed to grow larger made you want to be cruel to everyone and everything, convincing you that you could never be happy or feel good again. Projecting it outwards was your best way of showing how you felt on the inside, especially when words seemed impossible to come by.
You felt like you were drowning, whether it be from your tears, your sorrow, or the excessive alcohol consumption, you did not know. What you did know was that everything hurt, every breath, every blink, and every single beat of your heart led you to believe it would be your last, yet you somehow persevered through the process another time, wondering if it would be easier to give in to the pain and let it all go.
You did all you could to protect yourself, keeping your distance for so long because you knew how it ended, yet you fell into the same situation you faced when you were barely eighteen and still naive. You were listening to living proof of your greatest heartbreak—hell, it was the very thing to convince you to take another chance along with the woman sitting across from you. Why did you ever think that it could be different, that it could be so easy, that you deserved anything Jake could give you?
You were so angry, so cynical that it was making your head spin, and you couldn’t get any of it to make sense. In lieu of a better option, you swallowed your pride and prepared yourself to confess to your mistakes. Even if it was the last thing you wanted to do, it was better than letting the pain get the best of you. Six years ago, you survived it on your own, but it had left you completely depleted of any kind of energy, and you knew you could not do it a second time.
“It was perfect. Everything he did, everything he said, everything he planned. It was like he fit three whole years of dating into one night—or at least the best parts of it, I guess.” Your tone was weaker than before, more defeated as you let the misery seep through the walls of defense you’d built so high. “Got dinner at the same spot we had our first date, ate in the park where he asked me to be his girlfriend, went to the bar we snuck into on one of our last nights together. He played our song on the jukebox, and we went back to his hotel. It was perfect, Mel. So perfect that I think it scared me.”
“Why did it scare you?” She softened up too, less intense now that you were cooperating. She had a wicked need for control, a wicked desire to help, and it made the two of you bump heads sometimes, especially with your abrasive nature.
“When he was far away, it was so easy to pretend that this was all lighthearted, that it was as simple as old high school sweethearts rekindling, just to see where we were at in life. It was easier to swallow back those feelings, to pretend he didn’t mean that much to me anymore. When I saw him, there was no more pretending, and when he did all of his sweet little gestures, it was harder to ignore the fact that he felt the same way I did.” You explained, low and slow as you turned down the volume knob so she could hear you better. With every word you spoke, your eyes brimmed with tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks. “For a while, I lived in this bubble of happiness that nothing could touch. Six years of misery finally ended, and I was okay again, I could breathe again, without the weight of the entire fucking world sitting on my shoulders.”
“What popped your bubble?” Mel asked, growing more comfortable with the conversation as she kicked her legs up on the bed and leaned against the wall behind her. You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at her words, knowing nothing was funny but still able to find humor in the childlike question.
“Reality.” You responded, your lips dipping into a frown. “Nothing changed, Mel. The reasons we broke up are still just as prevalent, and I was so high on his company that I almost forgot all about it.” She was quiet for a moment, taking in your half-told story as she waited for you to continue, but you didn’t. You felt as though your point was clearly across despite never actually getting into it.
“What popped your bubble, Y/N?” She repeated, her eyes trained to your face as she pressed a little further. You swallowed hard, knowing that what you did was wrong and unwilling to divulge into it. Eventually, her stare became impossible to ignore, and she silently forced your hand on the matter.
“I went through his phone.” You rushed out, your eyes closing as the last syllable left your lips, knowing you were bound to be chastised because of your invasion of privacy.
“Nosy, much?” She raised an eyebrow, a small smirk on her lips. You expected much worse—no, you wanted much worse. You wanted someone to hold you accountable, to be as angry at yourself as you were, because what you did was wrong.
“Am I crazy for wanting you to yell at me?” You asked, leaning your head back on the chair in defeat.
“No.” She shook her head, giving the honest answer. “You know it was wrong, but you’re beating yourself up enough for the both of us. I don’t need to make it any worse.”
“I guess I didn’t really snoop, per se.” You felt a small smile cross your face, the only joyous expression you’d adorned since leaving Jake’s hotel room. “I looked through his notifications. I didn’t go through all his texts, or anything.” You defended yourself, less so because you were trying to justify your behavior and more so she knew what really happened.
“Clearly you found something. Does he have a secret family, or whatever?” She was trying her best to sound disinterested, but you knew she was itching for an answer.
Leaving Mel in silence for three days was equal to torture, and you feared she genuinely might go crazy if she was left in the dark for any longer. Mel was overbearing, annoyingly so at times, but it was always with the best intentions. She was your person, even if you tried to fight it, and she was the only one in the whole world that could help. Whether you were open to her advice or not, she always had at least a single good idea to give. If not an idea, then always some food for thought.
“I wish.” You gave a solemn smile. “I think if I hated him, it would be so much easier to get over him.”
“So what is it?”
“Exactly what I thought he would do six years ago; dropped his entire life for me. Moved meetings, rescheduled photoshoots, canceled interviews… completely neglected every responsibility just to drive to Michigan to take me on a date. Then I saw a weird but not super incriminating message from a girl named Amelie.” You pronounced her name with a poor French accent, a bitter taste on your tongue at the thought of her meaning anything at all to Jake.
“Okay.” Mel breathed, giving a curt nod. “Let’s start with the easy part. This Amelie… you said Jake’s not the type, so what do you think it is?”
“Sounds like a beautiful French woman he met on tour that I can’t begin to compare to.” You grumbled, swallowing back a lump in your throat as you confessed to the fear.
But Jake’s not like that.
He had never been the type to entertain two women at once—he had never been one to lie.
Why would he say all of those things, the romantic and emotional tellings of his heart that were all directed at you, if he did not mean them in the truest and most genuine ways?
Why would he wait six years just to break your heart?
“Right,” Mel hummed, not agreeing with your statement but instead trying to gauge whether you were ready for her input or not. Your eyes flickered to her, silently telling her you needed her input, that you needed her to confirm you were crazy for believing so. “Want to hear what I think?”
‘Yes, please. God yes, tell me I’m wrong.’ You thought to yourself, your lips staying shut as your eyes continued to bore into her. Behind the rigid exterior, she could see it—she could feel your desperation for help.
“You’re going to tell me anyway, so why not?” God, what was wrong with you? Why had you always taken the defense, never letting yourself show too much and never giving up on your own stubbornness? Why couldn’t you just be truthful, tell her you needed her and you couldn’t do this on your own?
“I think Amelie was the excuse you were waiting for.” She said, her voice quiet as she treaded carefully. Never faltering in your physical form, you felt everything inside of you spiral into one, horrible pit of despair. “You don’t think Jake is fucking her, and you don’t think he’s in a relationship. You just wanted an excuse to run, to feel justified in leaving.”
You wanted her to tell you that you were wrong, but now you were pissed off because she called you out. More than that, you were pissed off because she was right.
“So what?” You snapped, your gaze falling back to your hands crossed on your lap. “Even if that’s the case, it doesn’t change the rest of it.”
“It does, though.” She corrected, already privy to your innermost struggles. “You’re scared to have that conversation, to tell him how much it hurt the first time. You’re scared to open up, and you’re scared of hurting him. You don’t want to go through the same thing all over again, so you think that by walking away, you’re avoiding it.” She explained. “Amelie was your excuse to run before you had to tell him all of that.”
“Stop that.” You recoiled at her statement, choking on the words she was shoving into your mouth.
“Jesus Christ, Y/N. Open your eyes.” She implored you to digest the information rather than throw it away.
“Get out of my head!” You argued, angry not because she was missing the mark, but rather because she seemed to pluck the thoughts straight from your head and put them on display for everyone to see. “I hate it when you do that! You trick me into talking just so you can solve it all for me.”
“If I didn’t, who the hell would?” She snapped back, her eyebrows furrowed as she navigated your rebuttal. “You?”
Silence hovered over you again, uncomfortable and thick as it weighed you down. Breathing was hard, the strength of her stare mixed with the heaviness of your sadness combining into one, lethal force.
Of course you wouldn’t fix it; you weren’t a fixer—you were an ignore-er. It was your best trait, the only reason you’d survived the bulk of your life’s misery. You would shove it so far down that you would forget it existed, then carry on as if it never happened at all.
“He didn’t drop everything to go on some pathetic little date with you. He didn’t abandon responsibilities for a meaningless one night stand. He rearranged his schedule to find time to rekindle the relationship with the love of his life—with you. Those are two drastically different things, and you need to get your head out of your ass. He waited six years, Y/N. Six years for you to come back, six years of hoping and praying that you would change your mind. I know you like to be right, that you think you get to call all of the shots because you think you know what’s best for everyone, but you don’t get to decide this. You don’t get to make decisions for him.”
“I’m not making decisions for him—I’m making decisions for me, for what’s best for both of us.” Your argument was weak, and you knew she had you beat, but you never went down without a fight.
“If that was true, you think maybe you would be happy? Or at least okay?” She forced you to think about it again, to reconsider your thoughts and look inwards from a new perspective. She was right; if it were for the best, you wouldn’t be so miserable. Worse still, he wouldn’t be miserable, and you knew he was. The pile of unanswered texts told you he was anything but happy with your choice. “Was he happy when you left? Did he want this, too?”
“No, he didn’t.” You swallowed hard, your head throbbing as you thought back to his pain stricken face. Reliving the moments before you left, both times, was agonizing, yet they seemed to be the only memories you could think of as of recent.
“See?” She leaned forward on the bed, forcing you to look at her. “You know I’m right.”
“I just… fuck, Mel! I don’t know where I’m going, I don’t know what I’m doing. I thought I had my life figured out, but I never did. I don’t have a job, I don’t have a place to live yet. I can’t subject him to that. I can’t force him to put up with all of this. It’s better if we’re friends, at least while I get everything figured out, but it’s not as easy as you say it is.”
“Do you love him?” She asked, ignoring every point you made. You caught her gaze, your stomach twisting with anxiety as the word echoed through the room. It bounced against every corner of your skull, furthering the migraine and making your palms break out into a sweat.
“Yes.” Finally, you breathed the response, relieved to finally confess it to her. “I love him more than anything else in the world. I always have. I never stopped.”
“Then nothing else matters.” She hummed, the sweet tone easing the ache in your chest. Damn her for always knowing what to say, and damn her for always making you feel better. Most of all, damn her for not being able to mind her own business. “I’ve never seen you so happy. Nobody else has ever made you feel like that, not since I’ve known you, and I’m sure even way before that. If you still feel this way after so long, it means something, Y/N. Don’t throw it away because you’re scared. If he loves you like this too, you can make anything work.”
“I’ve only ever wanted what’s best for him, Mel. Want to see him happy, see him succeed, and I can’t get over the thought of me being the reason he doesn’t.” You confessed, your mouth dry as the truth scratched your throat raw. “That’s why I left the first time. That’s why I left this time. Our lives aren’t that different than they were back then, and the reasons we broke up are still very much alive.”
“You’re not the same, and neither is he. Stop thinking you’re still eighteen and stupid. You’ve grown up, you’ve lived life without him, and you came back. No matter how pressing those reasons were, clearly they weren’t strong enough to keep you away for good.”
“I hate you, you know.” You muttered, a small smile tugging at your lips.
“No, you don’t.” She chuckled. “You hate being wrong.”
“I’m not wrong.” You huffed, still believing your reasoning was correct.
“You sure as hell ain’t right.” Mel laughed, the sound uplifting and refreshing compared to the misery you had been stuck in. “Try, Y/N. Said it before, and I’ll say it again. You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t. If, in the end, I turn out to be wrong, we’ll take it as it comes, but you don’t know that’s how it’ll end. You can’t live your life always wishing you ended up with someone you wouldn’t let yourself have.”
Instead of responding, you reached out, pausing the Dylan song amidst a particularly intense bout of harmonica. In an instant, your blinding headache eased and your sick stomach rumbled with hunger. In a moment of clarity, you finally let yourself feel what you’d been holding back for so long; the largest, most pressing issue of the entire ordeal.
“I fucking hate Bob Dylan.” It felt like a million pounds were lifted off your chest as the words passed over your tongue.
“Thank god.” Mel fell backwards onto the mattress, utterly exhausted from pretending to tolerate the song.
Funny how missing Jake blinded you enough to believe you enjoyed it, like it was your last, desperate attempt at feeling close to him. You didn’t need to pretend, and you didn’t need to look at things from the same perspective all of the time. Life wasn’t black and white—it was a million different colors all at once, some so beautiful you couldn’t even begin to comprehend them. You could hate Bob Dylan and still love Jake the same, just the same as you could feel close to him without clinging to the time-worn memory of him. You didn’t have to view everything through a single lense, because sometimes things had to be looked at differently every time you encountered them.
You and Jake, were in fact, something that needed to be taken from every different angle possible. The twists and turns you took to get where you were, the surplus of emotion and the lack of action, the abundance of love despite there being no reason for it could not be justified from one single point or train of thought. You were everything all at once, and after six years and a damned mixtape later, you weren’t destined to end the same way all over again.
There had to be something else for you—it had to be different. After all this time, your commitment to his heart had to be worth it, rather than a painful bump in the road to remind you and make you relive your worst failures.
You were confused, nervous, and frustrated. You wanted it to make sense, for the answer to splay itself in front of you, so obvious you would trip over it and become one with it, but you knew it could never be so easy. You had to force yourself to learn how to take a step back, to stop being so close to a situation that it skewed your perception of what was in front of you. You needed to learn how to see it from Mel’s eyes, and most importantly, Jake’s.
You didn’t know anything, nor how to do it, but the fire under your ass was forcing you to figure it out. You couldn’t live the rest of your life this miserable, and you knew misery was the only thing in store for you if you forced yourself away from Jake.
Facts made sense to you, so you had to look at it logically; you had to learn, to understand, which had always been your favorite thing to do.
It wouldn’t be that hard, right?
You hoped not, because feeling so out of touch with reality was ruining you, and not knowing was killing you. No matter how hard it was, you had to do it, you had to know for certain.
Though, no matter what you did, you were certain one thing would always remain true; you would never, not in a million years, grow to love Bob Dylan, even if the man you loved most was his biggest fan.
And now that the song had finally come to a long overdue halt, Ozz found it within himself to join the two of you in your bedroom, free to keep you company amidst your sadness without being scared off by the high pitched harmonica on loop.
Jake’s POV
“God, you are a fuckin’ mess.” Your hotel door swung open, a voice ringing through the empty air after a brief moment of calm. You closed your eyes, not responding to the noise in hopes he would take the hint and walk away. For the first time ever, not even Josh could make the hurt ease. For the first time ever, you believed he had no advice to give you.
The whole world was burning, but you were so caught up in it that not even a hand to hold could reassure you, and he could not talk you through it.
If anything, you feared talking would only make it burn so much worse.
“Jesus, Jacob. Have you even gotten out of bed yet?” He was by your bedside, peering down at you with a mix of concern and disgust on his face. You were shirtless, the sheets strewn messily across your lower half as you prayed for the mattress to open up and swallow you whole. “Hello?” Josh spoke again, his lips decorated with a frown as he awaited a response.
“Fuck, what do you want?” You groaned, running a hand over your face. You wished he would take the hint, but you felt ridiculous for even thinking he might. In your long lifetime spent with him by your side, you noticed that Josh had never once acknowledged a hint, let alone taken one.
“I don’t know, maybe a ‘hello’? That would be a good start. Or, better yet, an explanation as to why I haven’t heard or seen you since I was here yesterday, when you were in the same position?” He had a hand on his hip, his stare accusatory as he refused to back down.
“Never should have given you that damn spare key.” You grumbled, pushing your messy hair away from your face. Your eyes were burning, puffy from crying, and even if he could clearly see the state you were in, you would never admit it to him.
“Well, you did, so get the fuck over it and tell me what your issue is.” He brushed off your snide comment, sitting next to you in the bed despite his lack of invitation. “Been three days, brother. Something happened—just waiting for you to tell me what.”
“Do you know how to mind your own business, or is that completely lost on you?” You huffed, still tipsy off the whiskey bottle you nursed to completion the night before.
“If you haven’t noticed, you are my business, asshole.” He snipped back, unscathed from your harsh words. He knew you, and all too well; this behaviour was nothing new, and even he knew what it was about, but he wanted to hear it from you instead of assuming. “I’ve only ever seen you like this once before. Trouble in paradise… again?”
“Do you have to try and be so condescending, or does that come naturally?” Your eyes shot open, more energy coursing through you now as you made a move to sit upright. As you did, your head throbbed from the grievous hangover, but you pushed it to the side as you focused on your irritation with Josh.
“Sorry I’m late—lost my fuckin’ key. Went to find Daniel for the spare, and he lost that one, too! Go figure…” Sam joined the crowd, ranting about his days minor inconvenience as he kicked the door shut behind him. He didn’t seem to notice the disarray you found yourself in, nor was he able to read the emotion hanging heavily in the room.
“You really outdid yourself, Josh.” You rolled your eyes, half tempted to roll out of bed and dress yourself just so you could run away from the awkward encounter. “What is this, a brotherly intervention?”
“I wouldn’t say it’s an intervention,” Josh shot you down, tapping his fingers against his khaki-clad leg. “More like a concerned conversation?” He offered an alternative, trying to explain himself before you jumped to conclusions.
“You said intervention in the text.” Sam countered, confused and adding little to Josh’s efforts. You raised a hand, motioning to Sam as you turned your head towards your twin. With a raised eyebrow, you waited for the confirmation you wanted, even if all it would do was drive you further away.
“Sam—ugh, you know what? Fine. Intervention, as the two of you would have it.” Josh threw his arms up, shooting the youngest of the group a glare.
“Right.” You muttered, throwing the sheets off of you and straightening the band of your sweatpants as you climbed out of bed. Your joints ached from days of lazing in the same position and your eyes hurt as you faced the sunlight pooling in through the sheer curtains. “Good thing I don’t need an intervention. In fact, don’t need anything. I’m fine.” You slipped a shirt over your head, stepping towards the door with hopes of escaping the burgeoning intensity of their stares. “‘Preciate the concern, but you’re wasting your energy.”
Josh sent a pointed look at Sam, silently commanding him to step in front of the door before you could leave. This time, he understood the hidden message that Josh was desperately trying to convey, and he took a step backwards to block the exit. You let out a huff of frustration, closing your eyes as you raised your thumb and middle finger to your temples, gently massaging away the migraine the two were causing.
“Sam, please.” You breathed, wasting little effort in speaking as you tried to focus it all on standing upright. You could smell the alcohol on you, seeping through your pores as your liver tried to recover from the previous night's binge. You were a mess, and they were right, but you did not want to talk about it.
“Sorry, brother.” Sam shrugged, leaning back against the wood grain as he shot you a sympathetic smile.
“So what, we’re leaving Daniel out of this? Pretty poor intervention if you ask me, ‘specially if the panel is ran by two idiots.” You felt your fuse reach the end, your temper getting the best of you as the frustration pulsed underneath your skin and behind your eyes.
“Jake, man, I love you.” Sam reasoned, pressing his palms together in front of his torso as the tips of his fingers pointed in your direction. “But could we lose the attitude? Just this once, could you grow up and be an adult about this? About her?”
“Don’t you dare—“ you seethed, cutting yourself off as a prickling sensation filling your entire body from the mere thought of him speaking about her. He had no right to speak her name, no business talking about her or placing his own notions and judgements on the situation. She was your sunshine, your entire world, and right now you were hurt enough to know that if he spoke ill of her, you wouldn’t be able to swallow your words. “Don’t talk about her, Sam. It’s not your place.”
“Okay, he’s right.” Josh nodded, standing and taking a hesitant step towards the two of you, not quite between you but ready to be if the situation warranted intervention. “No sunshine talk, Sammy boy. We’re here to talk about Jake.” Josh sent a careful glance at Sam, speaking with only his eyes. You were a ticking time bomb the two had faced explosion from many times in their life, and this instance happened to be one they were overly familiar with. To them, it seemed the fuse was the shortest when it had anything to do with her.
“Yeah, okay.” Sam cleared his throat, taking the step back and getting a handle on his own frustrations. “Let’s talk about you, Jake.” A twitch of anger contorted your expression at his tone of voice, but you took a deep breath instead of letting it slip into something bigger.
Why did it seem that the two people you loved most were always the ones who made you the angriest version of yourself?
“What about me, Sam?”
“Well, Jake… we’re concerned about your wellbeing, considering you’ve spent the last three days locked in your hotel room. Any reason why, or just making the most out of our vacation?” You squeezed your eyes shut, your teeth clenched tightly together as you listened to his words.
“Okaaayy—good start!” Josh chimed, trying his best to ease the lingering tension. “We are concerned, Jake. Thank you for starting us off, Sam.”
“You two are insufferable, you know.” You gave a tight lipped smile, ignoring the main topic at hand as if it were no big deal.
“‘Cause we love you. That’s all.” Josh shrugged, imploring you to understand where they were coming from. You let out a sigh, knowing they did love you, but it was not even enough to take away the ache in your heart. Nobody could love you enough to take that away.
Well, nobody except for her.
“Fine, you want to know what happened?” You asked, running your fingers through your tangled hair. “Date went great—better than I thought it would. Came back here, spent the night together, she said she loved me, and she fucking left! Again!” At that, your fist slammed down on the high end wooden desk beside you, the legs shaking under the pressure and your bones aching from the contact.
Your two brothers, dumbfounded and worried, stared at you with wide eyes, unbelieving that you found yourself in the same situation all over again. Why, after reaching out in the first place, would she leave you again without hesitation? Why would she let it go so far?
Confused and less than angry, Josh was in search of an answer.
“Why?” He asked, his face softening as he understood the torment you were enduring.
“Same thing as last time. She doesn’t want to stand in the way of anything, doesn’t want to distract me, or whatever the fuck—“ you felt your chest constrict at the thought, the pain coming back in an entirely new fashion as it tore through your entire body. When your brothers stormed in, they pissed you off enough to distract you from it, which means they served some sort of purpose. Now that you were talking, more specifically about her, it was back with a vengeance. “She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand that this doesn’t mean anything if she’s not here with me. Christ, I did the damn thing because of her! She was the whole reason I had the courage to try, a-and she thinks that she’s a nuisance? A hindrance? To a dream that only came true because she loved me?”
Josh stepped forward, a gentle hand extended in your direction. Softly, carefully, cautiously, it landed on your shoulder, a silent reassurance that he was here and he was listening. Sam approached, less annoyance on his face as he stood beside his eldest brother.
For some reason that you could not explain, the simple contact between you and your twin, the unspoken support and solidarity from both of them made the murky skies clear and allowed for fresh air to fill your lungs. It didn’t feel so heavy, so overwhelming.
“She said she loved you?” Sam asked, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his ass resting against the edge of the wooden desk you’d assaulted only moments before. Even though it just happened, it seemed blurry, hazy as you tried to recall it. Everything was so messed up, so much more confusing now that she closed the door on the two of you.
Although painful, the last few years of your life did not feel as haunting as the last three days had. You tried to blame it on the wound reopening, but in truth, it had little to do with that. Every day, each grueling hour and every painstaking second of the last six years, beneath all of the misery, one thing remained true; hope.
Although time passed, and the longer it dragged on the harder it became to remain optimistic, you never gave up hope that she would come back, that the two of you weren’t finished. Deep down, there was a guttural sense of expectation that led you to believe she would show up, walk through the door with that awe-inspiring smile on her face and love in her heart for you.
Finally, after six fucking years, she did.
Then, she tore it away from you in an instant, without even thinking twice about it, with a measly promise of friendship that both of you knew only added insult to injury.
You were willing to settle, to be friends so you never had to live a life without her in it again, but she couldn’t even hold up that end of the deal. She left, storming out of your hotel room the instant the cab driver parked in front of the entrance, barely looking back over her shoulder as she held her heels in her hands and blinked away tears pooling in her eyes. You heard the door slam, but you were somewhere completely different—a dark abyss in your mind you’d only visited once before, when she drove down the long winding road set out for UPenn, never even glancing at you through the rear view mirror.
Then she disappeared.
Every call went to voicemail, every text went unanswered, the bold letters of the word ‘delivered’ taunting you every time you closed your eyes.
She was gone, and this time, so was all hope.
Why did you let her leave? Why did you let her jump to that conclusion, to run before she got the full story? Why didn’t you run after her?
You were stupid, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway—she made up her mind, and she wouldn’t fucking listen. She never did, and you knew it would be a waste of breath.
“Sure did.” You cleared your throat after you spoke, your words raspy and sorrowful. You hated looking like such a mess in front of the two, but it was nothing they hadn’t seen before. In fact, it was the only thing they’d seen in the recent years that had come to pass. It only changed that fateful day in Europe, when her name graced your screen and the seemingly permanent cloud of misery finally floated away.
They enjoyed it for the few short weeks it lasted—it had been a long time since they saw that version of you. Happy, carefree, comfortable.
You only ever felt that way when she was around. The world only felt right with her by your side.
Now you had no idea where to go or what to do. The world didn’t end, the days still passed by in one never ending, haunting cycle of despair, and the sun was still in the sky, albeit it could never compare to her. You didn’t die when she walked away, although part of you felt like it did. You survived it once, and you could again. You had plenty to look forward to, so much to accomplish still, but it lost its sparkle knowing that you couldn’t share it with her.
So, no. The world did not end, but it definitely became colder, darker, without her light to shine upon you.
“Wonder if she meant it, or if it just felt right in the moment.” You scoffed the words out, sickened at the idea of her saying them but not truly meaning them. When you said it to her, it was the most sacred statement to ever leave your lips, the most genuine and soulful of words, and the only thing in the world that would forever remain true.
“Jacob,” Josh rolled his eyes, knowing exactly where your head was at. “Stop that. Take a second and get out of your own head. Let’s look at it through her eyes, together.” He offered. The muscle in your jaw tightened, your teeth pressed together with enough strength to cause an ache in your head.
From her eyes.
Her beautiful, alluring, calming eyes that always saw the world differently than anyone else could.
Why didn’t you do that before?
Maybe it was too painful for you, or impossible to see a different perspective without someone else to guide you through it. As of late, you had a knack for overthinking, jumping to conclusions that weren’t even genuine possibilities. Josh was always the one to guide you through it, and maybe you needed him more than you realized. He brushed you off, trying to get you to find your own conclusions when it came to her, but it was because you were asking for help in the romance aspect. In truth, you’d never needed much help there, especially when it came to her. Over the past few weeks, you just needed a pat on the back and reassurance that you could do it. Now, you needed help, you needed it to make sense.
“Now I know it’s been a long time since I’ve seen Y/N, but I have never known her to be a liar. I’ve never known her as anything other than selfless and sincere, and for you Jake, she’s all that and more.” You swallowed hard, his statement hitting you with force and knocking the air from your lungs. He was right, and you were so heartbroken it managed to taint your view of her.
She meant that she loved you, so why did she leave?
None of it made sense, and it all fucking hurt. You wished to have the level headed outlook that Josh had, but it failed you every time her name was brought up. The feelings she evoked within you, the intoxicating effects of her company and even just her memory was enough to drive you mad. You were completely smitten for the woman, and she never even had to try. You knew that nothing could ever compare, nobody could come close, and you were near insanity just imagining a life without her.
“There was this brief moment, the smallest amount of time where everything felt right, like it was supposed to all along. It felt like she felt it too, like we were on the same page, but I walked away for a second, and it all changed.” You let out a shaky breath, your eyes bloodshot and stinging with tears.
“Something must have set her off, right?” Sam offered, hand on his chin as he found himself lost in thought. Yours and Josh’s eyes turned to him, curious about his input.
Josh was a shoulder to cry on, sharing words of wisdom to help you see a different perspective, but Sam? Sam was critical, always finding an answer even when it seemed impossible, always piecing it together when there were seemingly no pieces in sight. Josh was wise, but Sam was a fixer, and you needed this fixed.
“Like what?” You asked, beating yourself up as you heard the same breath of hope in your tone as you had once before.
“Well, I don’t know.” Sam fought back an eye roll, knowing you were hurting but frustrated by how obtuse you could be. “You said you walked away—did you leave her alone in here, or was that metaphorical?”
“No, I literally walked away.” You confirmed. “We were laying in bed, not really talking, but so comfortable that it didn’t matter. I thought for sure it was it, that we were gonna talk it out and work it out, but then I went to the bathroom. When I came back, she was so different. There was that look in her eye, like when she left the first time.”
Sam was silent for a moment, his gaze drifting towards the bed that you’d left in a mess. Thoughtfully, his eyes scanned the scene, as if he could see it in front of him, like it was happening in real time. His eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly, his lips parted as he sucked in a sharp breath. Then, his arm raised and his index finger extended outwards, pulling the two of you in the same direction he was going. He was pointing at your phone on the bed, screen facing upwards and lit up with incoming notifications that were insignificant to you.
To you, though.
To him, it was more than insightful.
“You always leave your phone like that?” Sam asked, his eyes flickering to you as he awaited a response.
“Yeah? Fuck does it matter?” You grumbled, unable to correlate the two. He bit his tongue as he breathed a long sigh of annoyance through his nose, stepping towards the bed and snatching the phone off the mattress.
“It matters because you’re an idiot with no passcode, and anyone can see any notifications as soon as they come.” He snapped, tapping the screen to light it up.
“So?” You couldn’t find the same wavelength he was on, unsure if it was because you were too upset or he was being too vague. Maybe, it was a combination of both. “Nothing incriminating on there. Would have let her look through it if she asked.”
“To you.” Sam clarified. “You said she felt like she was holding you back, that you were still in the same situation as last time. Where do you think that came from?” Sam implored you to think a little further, scrolling down the notification bar you never bothered to clear.
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”
“She saw your notifications.” Sam stressed his point, his eyes reading over all of the worrisome details that likely sent her running. “Outlook: meeting canceled. Outlook: request for rescheduling. Aaron said: sent you the outline for the interview we put on pause. If you get a chance, please look it over in advance.” Sam listed off, flashing the screen towards you so you could see for yourself. “There’s about twenty more just like it.”
“Fuck sakes.” You groaned, placing a palm to your forehead as you let your eyes fall shut. Of course she saw it, and of course she took it personally. Had you realized it sooner, maybe you wouldn’t be where you are now, maybe you could have explained.
“I’m sorry, Jake.” Josh shifted uncomfortably on his feet, clearly feeling guilty on behalf of the situation. “Did you tell her it was my idea? That I was the one who canceled everything?”
It was true; coming to Michigan, coming home to her was Josh’s idea. He handled the scheduling conflicts, assuring you that this was much more important than another interview that would pertain to the same fifteen questions you’d been asked since the very beginning.
“F’course not—I didn’t know that’s why she got cold feet.” You mumbled, your eyes flickering towards the floor. “Besides, wouldn’t blame that on you, anyway. Doesn’t seem fair since it was because of me in the first place.”
“That’s not the point.” Josh urged, shaking his head at your stupidity. “If she knew it was me… if she knew how badly we all wanted to see you two together, maybe she’d get it. You have to tell her, Jake. This is all probably super overwhelming for her, to be back with you and to think that you cancelled everything to be with her. No doubt she loves you, but no doubt she’s terrified of messing things up for you. She’s always been afraid of that—she was there since the beginning, when all this was just a dream. She doesn’t see what we see. Make her see it, Jake.”
“Yeah, and maybe you should also tell her Amelie is our photographer, cause this message does seem a little bit flirty taken out of context.” Sam said, clicking on the text and showing you. Confused, you grabbed the phone from his hand and read over the words for what seemed like an eternity, noticing she’d attached four pictures of your last show, ones that you’d been begging her to share. You couldn’t see them from the notification bar, which would have made it seem all the more worrisome to her.
“Great timing, huh?” You grumbled, tossing your phone on the bed as you tried to process all of the new information. “Didn’t budge for a week, but finally sent them at the perfect time.” The sarcasm was dripping from your tone, your stomach upset as you understood how much those series of events would have bothered her.
You were so cruel, believing she did so because she didn’t care, because she wanted an excuse. It wasn’t true, and she did what she did because she cared so much, more than anyone ever had, and more than anyone else ever would. She took the burden of heartbreak because she cared more about your happiness than her sadness. If the roles were reversed, you would have felt the same way, maybe even worse. She loved you so wholly and completely that she would rather let you go than stand in your way.
Josh was right, she was a selfless, kindhearted person who would do and be anything for you, even if the best for you meant she had to be nothing. You were an idiot, and you accused her of lacking love when in reality, she was suffocating on the abundance of love she held for you.
You had to fix it. You had to make it right, to show her that no matter where you were or what you were doing, she was the very thing that made it possible to do it. You needed to tell her that she was all you ever wanted, that the life you lived was good, but only fantastic when she was there to stand by your side.
You needed to fight, to chase after her instead of letting her walk away. She meant too much to you to let her go. You couldn’t waste another six years hoping the situation would fix itself. This time, you were older, wiser, albeit still stupid, but you knew that she was worth it.
“I have to make it right.” You announced, looking between the two.
“You have to tell her the truth. Don’t let her go, Jake.” Sam agreed.
“After all this time, she’s still yours. Don’t take it for granted.” Josh added.
“Okay.” You breathed, giving one curt nod. “I have an idea, but I can’t do it by myself.”
“Whatever you need, brother.” Josh assured you, knowing just as well as you did that she was the one. They couldn’t bear to see you lose her for good. Sam nodded in agreement, a silent show of solidarity without a second thought.
A small smile graced your lips, and a breath of hope filled your lungs. It wasn’t over, and you would make sure of it. When it came to her, you would never let it be over. You would work until your last dying breath, committed to her and her alone. She was everything, the whole world and more. She was your sunshine, lighting up the darkest days and making the brightest ones better.
Six years ago, you gave her eight songs to show her how much you would miss her, how sad you were about letting her go.
This time, maybe all she needed was eight songs to tell her exactly why you needed her to stay.
TAGLIST: @anythingforjtk @highway-tuna @klarxtr @hollyco @thetroublegetssoloud71 @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @raceb14 @watchingover-hypegirl @starshine-gvf @do-it-jakey-baby @gretavansara @jakesbeloved @woyayaofdreams @jakeyt @kiszkas-canvas @gracev0609 @josh-iamyour-mama @musicspeaks @gretavangroupie @gretavanmoon @gvfmarge @takenbythemadness @fleetingjake
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