How To Win A Campaign (Jon Ossoff x Reader)

twenty-nine

((minor disclaimer: this chapter is incredibly angsty))

It wasn't even a week, I don't know why I getting so worked up over it. Wednesday through Friday in the mountains and he'd be back that night. That's what he promised so why was I so goddamn afraid? I guess I let Jon's fear get to me, the paranoia I had instilled in him had reflected back onto me and at the sudden sight of him leaving my side broke me. I was turning into a puppy who had spent their entirety of life in the company of someone. I had spent a year in the company of Jon and the first threat of ending that streak was daunting. It was horrifying.

I wasn't allowed time to go over every possible circumstance before Tuesday night, so I had spent all of Jon's birthday being cold and distant. He worried when I got like this, I knew it, but there wasn't much I could do to stop. Granted, I hadn't told Jon much of my worries and insisted I was fine, even if on the inside there was a raging blizzard of trepidation and the forecast showed no sign of it stopping. Much to his character, he never pried or insisted on knowing what was happening in my head, but perhaps that's what I needed.

All of my distraught was bottled up in my diaphragm, suffocating me as I dared to tell him not to go. I wondered what would have happened if I cried and begged him to stay with me, voice cracking and pure agony spilling from my guts. Would he stay out of sympathy? Would he console me and insist everything would be okay? Would he scold me and tell me I was being silly? All of the above were reactions I would have accepted, surely with different outcomes from me, but they were warranted.

The worst part was it was his birthday and I was dumping all of this impersonal and standoffish bullshit on him. I wasn't petty, though— I paid attention to him, loved him, cared for him, held his hand through the Capitol, ate lunch with him, all of the standard affection I showed, but all the while I was conflicted. However, during all those activities, I would hardly talk or express anything. My stomach was constantly churning with anxiety and I was just trying to keep it all down. I didn't want to feel like this, I wanted this hellacious feeling to subside and to be okay with Jon leaving. It was only three days. I only had to wake up without him there for three days.

I was driving him to the airport, quiet, radio playing softly in the background. Jon kept a patient yet concerned look on me the whole time, as if he were waiting for me to finally spew out the despair I had been choking down all day. The only words I had to have said to him that day were happy birthday, Jon! before I shut my lid and let the paranoia ensue. My hands were tight on the steering wheel as I navigated the dark roads of DC, dimly lit by headlights and the streetlights. I was obviously tense. I was obviously struggling.

I wanted to pull over and refuse to take him. I didn't want him to go, so why was I so willingly driving him to the airport? I wanted to maintain this facade that everything was alright, even in the face of anguish, and keep reality at bay. But I had reminded myself of Jon's civic duty, how he was Senator and he had to keep an eye on his state. I figured this would ease some anxiety, seeing him go, and not letting him drive himself. I didn't want anything bad to happen if I could help it. And yet, I didn't let myself look at him. Honestly, I wasn't mad at him for having to leave, but the tension in my veins glued me down and kept my mind focused on every possibility.

Finally arriving, I parked the car and helped Jon with his luggage. I kept close to him the whole time, cherishing these last few moments we had together. While we walked, my hand faintly brushed against his, embracing me in a welcoming warmth. As the touches continued, Jon took it upon himself to grasp onto my hand reassuringly. It eased me immediately, my eyebrows softening and my hand completely conforming to his grip. My face felt uncomfortably warm, inevitably drying out my throat. He is going to be back, my mind ached.