HEARTFIRST (Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader)

9.

It'd been hours since you left him. You lost track of time with Bradley, a habit you never really kicked. When you left the air hangar, you searched everywhere: The Hard Deck, the common room, the beach, but he was nowhere to be found. It didn't help that he apparently hadn't told anyone where he'd gone, Omaha and Coyote could only shrug their shoulders and offer blank stares when you asked them. It was hopeless, so you returned to the last place he might be, but now the idea he'd holed up in his room feels foolish.

Steadying yourself, you wrap one hand around the door handle and push down, your heart thumping roughly against your ribcage as the cool metal clicks, the door opening.

"Jake?" you ask, stepping through the frame. You half expect to see him curled up in his bed, his back turned to you, but the bed is empty, still unmade. You spin around, your eyes catching every detail of the room: the photos of him and his family on the dresser, his sunglasses on the desk, and his sweatshirt draped over the edge of bed. You step towards it and run your fingers across the material, smiling at the memory.

"So now do I get to turn you in for trespassing?"

You jump at the sound of his voice, strained as he catches his breath. He doesn't wait for you to turn around, moving into the room with a seemingly unaffected confidence. Brushing your arm, he moves towards the dresser in front of you, tugging a drawer open. Your breath catches at the sight of him and you swallow hard, suppressing the desire bubbling inside at the vision of him shirtless, a pair of dark gray running shorts hung low on his hips.

"The door was unlocked," you reason, taking a step towards him. "I was looking for you."

He nods slowly, pulling a shirt out from the drawer and slipping it on in the same second. He turns to face you now, leaning against the dresser, his arms crossed.

"I was out for a run."

"You went for a run in the middle of the night?"

"I needed to clear my head," he asserts. His words are short, his tone sharp, just as yours were to him mere hours ago.

"Look, Jake, I'm sorry, I-"

"Hey, I get it. You're right. It was a good night."

"Wait, Jake, no," you stammer, closing the space between you in one last step. Your hand brushes his arm, practically begging him to relax, to undo his arms and take you into them. You knew he had something he wanted to say to you and you needed to know, even if you had to physically pry it out of him. Or, perhaps after you abandoned him, that desire to share his feelings with you vanished into thin air. You look up at him, scanning his face for something you could decode, but he's unreadable. His eyes avoid yours, looking past you rather than at you, his bottom lip curled up into an expressionless line.

"Can't we talk about this?"

"I don't know what else there is to talk about," he sighs, shaking his head. "You're the one who said it. You're the one who left me tonight to go see your ex!"

You open your mouth to argue, but stop yourself. He's right. You'd done those things and you did them without a second thought about how they'd make Jake feel. You owe it to him to hear him out, to give him space to breathe, to think it over and figure out how he feels. He'd given you that, even if it wasn't his choice.

Jake groans, uncrossing his arms to rake a hand through his hair roughly, ruffling the soft blonde strands. Drifting from the dresser to the bed, pushing past you, he heaves a rather heavy sigh, his eyes finally landing on you. That familiar thread wraps itself around your heart and pulls gently, encouraging you to follow suit and plop down onto the bed next to him, but you ignore it, knowing Jake deserves his space. It's not the time for selfishness.