Until Next Time / Jake Seresin x Reader

part two

You felt like a cliche as you sat on the ground of your bedroom, back pressed against the end of your bed with a glass of red wine in hand and two letters discarded at your side. You were staving off a round of tears, but they were there in your eyes despite how you tried to blink them away. Nothing was wrong in the unique way that everything was wrong... if someone asked that would be your answer. Nothing's wrong, but it wasn't true, you just didn't know how to answer the question. Which thing would you share? What was even the point of sharing? Your phone still got a minimum of three texts a day from your cheating ex-boyfriend, your half-finished novel was sitting in disarray on your desk a few feet away and littered with notes on how to fix it that you didn't know how to implement, and a fresh assignment had just landed in your inbox from your editor that you were wholly disinterested by.

But worst of all, you didn't even know where the only person you wanted to talk to was. He was off in the middle of an ocean somewhere, and all you had to connect you to him was the discarded letter on the floor. Your head had been swirling the entire drive up the coast, something you'd opted for over flying thinking it might give you some time to think but really it only gave you too much time to think. Your trip home had been everything you expected, and it shouldn't have bothered you because you'd walked in knowing what would happen but it did... and the one person who knew your family, the one person who could understand was unreachable.

Not that you'd really tell him what happened anyway, not in a letter, not when he was doing what he was doing... which was as unclear to you as his location but you knew it wasn't a cruise ship he was on, and he wasn't there for the hell of it. As you grabbed a pen and settled into your spot on the floor you didn't tell him any of it. You didn't tell him what a nightmare life seemed to be, you didn't tell him you hated the way everything felt, and you definitely didn't tell him too much about the second letter beside you, sent from his colleague.

Bradley,

I wish I had more to update you on - things have been pretty boring around here. I did have a drunken facetime with Nat and I feel better about everything. Still processing, but I'll be fine. I have been channeling it into my writing - between these letters and all the journaling my hand is cramping like no other.

My trip home was as to be expected - my parents send their best and you unfortunately have a very ugly blanket my mom knitted for you awaiting your return. Your parents' headstones were completely overgrown and I absolutely didn't yell at the groundskeeper but we did have a chat about maintaining the grave of an American hero. I know they wouldn't care about weeds, but I don't know where else to put my love so just let me wig out about the landscaping. I had a good talk with Goose and after talking with your mom the biggest gust of wind kicked up. It was probably a coincidence but I like to believe it was her way of giving me a hug - it felt the same.

I've been thinking about your offer - San Diego does sound really great right now but I don't know how feasible it is to actually go. I made the mistake of mentioning it to Natasha and now it's all she's texting me about. It somehow feels like the right and wrong time to get out of the city... but, I'll bring it up with Miranda in our meeting this week and see what she says. I know I should be more spontaneous and just go for it but you know that's never been my strong suit. I'm incredibly surprised your guest room still isn't set up, I helped you furnish it over facetime months ago. Has it all just been sitting there in boxes this whole time? Very unlike you, Mr. Bradshaw.

I don't know if Jake told you but my last letter wound up on his pillow and he wrote me to apologize for reading it. I know you have your opinions about him but I found it kind of endearing and I'm going to write him back. Figured I'd warn you in case you see my handwriting on an envelope that isn't addressed to you. It seems I'm adopting another naval aviator and I'm contemplating opening a business - I'm sure there's a market for lonely military personnel, however the more I think about it the more I realize it could get really gross, really fast.