Broken (AU Calum Hood Fanfiction)

LXXIV

Jackie's POV:

The drive to the airport is the awful.

Neither of us has anything to say. And I feel like that's dangerous. Like the fact that everything's already been said and dealt with is some sort of indicator that we're growing apart. But maybe it's the opposite. Maybe it's just us gaining a stronger understanding of one another. Maybe it's just us recognizing each other's hesitance to put so much physical distance between us. Or maybe my optimism's just showing through again.

When we stop at a red light his hand finds mine on the center console. His fingers are cold and trembling a bit as mine find their way between his and I'm reminded for the millionth time how well we fit together. Even with the connection, nothing's said, no looks are exchanged, just physical contact and comfort. But it's enough for the moment.

The radio's playing low. Too low to really listen to and I can't identify the song that's on, but it's loud enough to stifle the otherwise silence that fills the car.

"You're a really horrible driver." he says with a glimmer of a giggle in his tone. But its a sad attempt at poking fun at me. I know that if what's happening wasn't happening, I would've laughed at that. His tone would've been light-hearted and joking and I would've laughed at him telling me that I can't drive, because I would've interpreted it as a harmless insult to my driving skills. But I can't laugh, it's not funny. Nothing's funny right now. Everything's dark and heavy and daunting. And I've been in this sort of situation too many times, and it's all too familiar. Too many people have died, and I've watched and felt it and cried and hurt and ached too many times. I know all too well the kind of hell that comes with losing someone you love. And now I have to watch him leave and I have to realize that he's going to go through this, knowing full well how much it's going to drive him to the brink of insanity, only to pull him back when he gets a glimpse of the light at the end of this seemingly never-ending tunnel.

We pull into the departure section of the airport and I feel nauseous.

"Is your mom here, or - " I start but he answers me before I can finish my question.

"She left last night." he says, a distant edge to his tone.

"Oh." I say, more to myself than him as I start to fiddle nervously with my fingers.

I hate goodbyes. More than anything. But this isn't 'goodbye', this is 'see you soon'. Or so I'm told. But I'll believe it because I can't handle the alternative right now. Avoidance may not be the healthiest coping mechanism but it's definitely the most immediately efficient.

For the first time I realize that I might not see Joy again. It's funny how you focus on the effects rather than the cause when it's all so close to you.

"I have to go." he says, checking the time on his phone.

"I'll - I'll walk you in." I mumble and switch off the ignition before he can tell me not to. My feet hit the asphalt and I open the back door of my car in record speed, grabbing his backpack while he retrieves his suitcase and the guitar case. I clamp my fingers onto that stupid backpack with the ridiculous idea that if I hold on tight enough he'll change his mind and ask me to come with him. With the ridiculous idea that I'd say yes and we'd get through everything together. But all it really does is make my fingers ache and my heart pound with anxiety.

He stops and turns to me at the boarding area, his eyes meeting mine for the first time since we got into the car this morning. They're so dark and clear and I focus on how his irises look inexplicably pleading and his pupils seem to be begging for something. Neither of which emotions I can satiate at this point, but I wish more than anything that I could.