TWO AND A HALF WEEKS LATER:
"𝗔ll I'm saying is that it's fucking weird man," Jase threw his hands up in the air, feigning innocence.
"In what way?" Maverick asked.
He was sitting across the kitchen island from him, entertaining a conversation about Mason. The last two and a half weeks were definitely the weirdest since they joined up with Rueben's team. In terms of the mission they were working on, there weren't many developments, but as for their personal lives?—it has not only grown tense, but odd.
Maverick and Mason were now involved – whatever the hell that meant. As far as he knew, and as far as his friend bragged, they hadn't gone past first base, but it was still strange to see them hanging out together and knowing in the back of his mind that they weren't just having a simple conversation.
Plus, ever since the breakup, he's been avoiding Mason like the plague; the motherfucker is so mean to everyone lately, and with his own life being a complete dumpster fire, it wasn't what he needed.
"You don't find it strange that he never had interest in you until he and Kai broke up?"
Mav shrugged, "I don't mind being a rebound."
"Yeah, 'til you realize that's all you're ever going to be."
"What do you mean?"
Jase stood up and walked to the fridge, "Don't be dense, Mav – any one of us could tell you how in love he was with Kai and vice versa; you're just something to entertain him until they work shit out for the hundredth time."
"Meh," he shrugged again, "That sounds like a later problem."
"Whatever you say," he breathed, grabbing a water bottle.
Maverick spun on his stool, facing him with a wide smile as he turned himself. He lowered his bottle, still holding a gulp of water in his cheeks like a pufferfish. Swallowing, he looked at him sideways before biting on the line he so desperately wanted a tug on.
"What?"
"Can you tell me what you got me now?"
Jase walked back over to his spot and sarcastically rolled his eyes at his comment.
"It's rude to ask someone for a birthday present on their birthday," he tipped his chin up, faking an attitude, "—what'd you get me for my birthday?"
It had been quite neat to find out that while they belonged to different zodiacs, the two of them had birthdays within a day of each other. Today was his, the last being a Taurus, and tomorrow was Mav's, the first being a Gemini. Luckily, he's been able to keep his mouth shut on what his gift was, but the closer the days got, the more he pestered him about it.
"You're right – I guess I forgot," he stuck his tongue out.
Jase laughed, ignoring his stupidity as Mav pulled his phone out. A moment later, he placed it down on the tabletop and glanced at him with his hands folded under his chin. He ogled at him quizzically, but he let the look drop as he reached into his pocket for his cell phone as it began to vibrate.
Opening up his string of messages with him, he spotted a small video.
"What is this?"
"Play it and find out, duh."
Doing exactly that, he smiled as the contents revealed themselves.
'Birthday Bitch' by Trap Beckham began to stream through the speakers as a coded version of himself, in pixels, moved across the screen in what looked like a faux battle. The miniature version of himself said 'pew pew' each and every time he shot his gun, killing the targets around him. His smile grew even wider when he ran over to a woman without a face and dipped her, kissing her; he chuckled when his pixel version dropped her and proceeded to pump his arms before ripping open his shirt.
Happy Birthday, Jase was plastered across his pixelated abs to serve as an end.
"How long did this take you to make?" he laughed, placing his phone down.
"Like a week – codes aren't that hard, just time-consuming."
"Well, thank you, I love it."
"I better get something double that," Maverick boasted, standing up.
"Yeah, yeah," his smile faded as he turned, "Wait – where are you going?"
"Do you really want the answer to that question?"
Jase grimaced and shook his head, standing up himself. If he answered without the sassy undertones in his voice, he would have said something that involved crawling up to Mason and kissing his ass. Truthfully, he didn't understand how he could be by the side of someone whose made everyone else's lives hell, nor did understand how could entirely ignore any sense of self-respect by being a rebound.
Then again, he knew that being with Mason wasn't because he actually wanted to be with Mason. He found the game fun, and now that he's finally got the in he'd been searching for, he's going to push to see how far he gets with him. For bragging purposes, but also because no one dares tell him no and gets away with it.
"I'm good, man," he waved him off.
He turned to walk to his room, but his friend, of course, needed the last word.
"—your real present is on your bed, by the way," he smiled, then turned and left.
Pocketing his hands in his pants, he walked to the staircase off to the side of the living room and began to climb them; even though his friend was no longer here to witness his excitement, he didn't want to run up them and push into his room like a giddy little child.
He was three steps away from the second floor, safe from everyone else, when the one person he's been avoiding since Spain just happened to pop out of her fucking room; it also happened to be the one at the top of the steps, making his presence impossible to miss. He bowed his head and cursed under his breath before plastering on a fake smile.
"Jase!" she said happily, "I've been looking for you."
That's a first.
"For what?" he answered tiredly, standing before her now.
"I just miss you – I haven't seen you around much."
Wonder why—?
"Oh."
Franki disregarded his tone, posture, and obvious disinterest in the conversation, or noticed all of it and still decided to act as if it didn't exist and leaned in and pressed her lips to his, kissing him. Admitting it to himself and everyone else, he desperately wanted to kiss her back; just the smell of her vanilla aroma made him weak in the knees and hard in places he thought against allowing.
Against his physical desires, Jase put his hands on her waist and pushed her back as softly as he could before side-stepping her. He didn't want to give her an explanation, so he wouldn't. The entire time, he's been playing by her rules, going off of how she felt – he made sure to walk on the hot coals so that she could walk amongst the cool ones without the worry of burnt flesh, but no more.
This wasn't high school – he was bored of the dramatics.
"Is everything okay?" she asked.
"Fine," he started to walk.
"Why didn't you kiss me back?"
"I'm just not in the mood, Franki," he sighed.
"Why are you calling me Franki?—you never call me that."
"Felt like it."
The only incidental that he couldn't account for in his plan to walk away from her was her reaction to that. He could face the other way, run – do anything to create space between them, but she was a Dupont; hard-headed and answer-seeking.
She grabbed the inside of his elbow and tugged him back. The look in her dark eyes almost made him cut this bullshit act out; she looked as if she was deeply wounded, like a curious puppy who ended up caught in someone's crossfire.
Unfortunately for her, the keyword was almost.
All he could really focus on was how her jaw was clenched in anger and her eyebrows were furrowed in the way they got when she felt disrespected. Both of those micro-expressions just made the blood under his skin boil – where the fuck did she get the right to be furious? Disrespected?
"What is your problem, Jase?"
He yanked his arm back, "I don't have one. I just want to be left alone."
"You never act like this with me."
Something in the way she said that – as if she was so fucking wounded about his separation pissed him off. If anyone deserved to reap the repercussions of their excursion ending, it should be him. He was the one who was played. He was left out to dry. He gave his all just to receive a couple fucks and empty words.
"I'm just over it, Franki!" he snapped, "I'm done with this back and forth shit with you; I want no part in it, and I don't want anything to do with you outside of work – just leave me alone."
He went to leave, but she pulled him back again.
"Where is this coming from?"
"It's been building up for weeks," he hissed, "—while you were busy running off to France and doing whatever else you've been up to, I've been taking time to reevaluate what I want in life, and I can tell you right now – I sure as hell don't want a one-dimensional relationship with someone who cares more about my dick than me."
"I had things to take care of," she answered quietly.
"Yes," he nodded, "Thank you for showing me how much of a priority I am to you."
Franki rolled her eyes and tutted, "Not everything is about you, y'know."
"That's true – but if you cared about me, or prioritized me, you would have at least spared me the fucking walk-of-shame when you left me in your bed without a word."
Jase spun around. This time, he lifted his hands in the air so she couldn't grab him and force him to talk through the rest of this uncomfortable bullshit. She didn't want him, and he accepted that, so why couldn't she?
Nothing seemed to be going to plan today. First, he did a terrible job convincing his best friend that the person he's involved with doesn't give a shit about him, then avoiding this girl, and now getting out from under her hands. As she ran in front of him, covering his door with her body, he wished for nothing more than to be a slippery fish in her hands, jumping to escape in a lake.
"Move," he gently commanded.
"I do care about you," she crossed her arms.
Jase laughed out of pure amusement, "Oh, you do?—please spare me."
"I care, dammit!" she raised her voice, "—you're ... important to me ..." her voice trailed off.
He rolled his eyes and shook his head, "You couldn't even say that without difficulty. You're full of shit."
"I'm not."
"Just stop—"
"I care about you, Jase. I pay attention! I—"
He drowned out the rest of her stupid sentence; he focused on folding and unfolding his fist within itself as she rambled on. In everything they've been through, the one thing he always admired about her was the fact that she never lied. No matter what – she was as upfront and honest as they could get.
But right now?—she was droning on about anything that sounded reasonable. Anything she could come up with to force him to stay in her life the way he used to be. He was letting himself believe that it was making him angry, but in reality, it just hurt. To have the person you want the most in the world trying to fulfill their past empty word with more emptiness was a pain he never wished on anyone.
"You don't care about me!" he cut her off, "You care about you! It's why every time something happens between us, you're always the one who comes to me! Everything we do is on your accord, on your terms, and is based on your feelings – or lack thereof," he gazed at her in disbelief, "You're unbelievable."
"You said you accepted me for who I was."
"Yeah, that was before you fucked me just to leave me – for the second time."
Franki opened her mouth and then shut it again, contemplating hard on how to answer something like that. Honestly, there was nothing she could say that would reverse how he felt, and her standing here trying to manipulate the narrative to make herself the victim was just further proof of how she cares for no one but herself. If it doesn't affect the almighty Francesca Dupont, then it was no worry.
"I told you that I didn't think I deserved you," her voice was quivering, but it was quiet.
"And I told you to be someone who did," he sucked his teeth, "Nice to know you heeded that."
"I didn't want to leave you that day, I promise. I want to be with you! I care—"
"What's today?" he interrupted.
"What?"
He looked her dead in the eyes, "If you care about me as you say, then tell me what today is."
Franki didn't blink, and if he wasn't close enough to see her chest rise and fall, he might have assumed she stopped breathing too. She was a smart woman, he adored that – so it was all the more clear that she knew this was a test. If she handed him the wrong answer, who knew what would happen.
"May 20th?" she finally offered.
Jase thinned his lips out and nodded slowly, doing his best to stop himself from scoffing – snorting, or any other type of false, mocking laugh. While she could easily go off and hurt the people who just want to care for her like a kid eating candy, he could not do the same.
She snuff his feelings out, but he would never even think of doing the same.
"It's my birthday, Francesca," he drawled, "My fucking birthday."
Her face fell, but he wasn't watching it anymore; he was facing the other direction and heading back toward the stairs. If she wasn't going to get out of the way, then he was going to go somewhere that was far away from her and her pathetic tactics to get back in his pants.
Or in his head.
"Stop walking away!" she yelled at him.
"This conversation is over – move on."
"I won't!" she said even louder, "Turn around and face me!"
"I have no need to do that."
"Why not!?" she screamed as he reached the stairs, "—why can't we just go back to what we had when we were in bed? Why can't you just accept me the way I am like you said?! You're pushing me to be someone that I let go of a long time ago; instead of asking me why I can't give you what you want, ask me what's stopping me!"
"That's not my problem, Franki. If you want to be read like a diary, I suggest seeing a therapist. I want you in the way I can't have you, but I'd also rather swim through shark-infested waters than be your bitch."
He dropped one step before her words rooted him in place.
"I don't get it! Why the fuck is it so hard for you to fuck me and get over it?!"
Jase pivoted, "Because I'm fucking in love with you!"
He drew his head back at the sound of his words – he hadn't meant to admit that out loud, now, or probably ever, but they were spoken and they couldn't be taken back. The surprise at his actions made him want to leave everything there – to leave the ball in her court, but nothing between them was ever that easy.
Franki's face twisted as if the word love was a foreign word she didn't understand, no matter the language.
His heart was already laid bare—
He might as well finish and leave it lying dead on the floor.
She noticed his return toward her, but she lifted her hands, waving them, "I don't want to hear more—"
"Well, you're going to anyway," he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his body, making their hips collide; he kept his eyes staring into hers the entire time, "—I love you, and whether or not you hate that, it doesn't change the fact that I can't keep doing this shit with you. You cannot have me the way I am without accepting all parts of me—I will never allow you to tear me apart to reach only the pieces you want. I am not a set of legos; you cannot pick and choose with me. If you can't do that, then fine. Leave me alone."
"Jase," she breathed, tears brimming her eyes.
He sighed and loosened his grip, as well as toned down his voice, "I'm not upset because my love is unrequited, Franki. I never want you to feel as if you have to love me solely because I do. I am just disappointed that you made me believe that there could be something real between us, just to backpedal when it gets too much. I won't begin to describe how fucked up it is, I'm too tired. So, so tired."
Letting go of her, he walked to his bedroom, thankful that she moved and opened the door. As he was about to walk in, she turned and offered him one last sentence.
"What does this make us?"
"Until you grow up?" he longingly gazed in her direction, "It's as you said months ago – there is no us."
With that, he entered and shut the door, locking it behind him to prevent a break-in.
He saw the present laid out on his bed, and just by the shape he could tell it was the rare gun he'd been harping about for a while, but he didn't have the energy to cross the small space and reach it.
Conversely, he placed his back on the wood and slid down it, landing in a pile on the ground. With his arms dangling off his kneecaps, and his head hanging loosely on his shoulders, he let out the breath he didn't know he was holding in.
He told her he loved her and was met with more bargaining.
Do this for me, do that for me – all with the promise of something authentic being falsely advertised above him.
A couple of tears managed to slip from his eyes, but he wasn't even thinking about that anymore. All he churched in his mind was the idea of catching a break – if he would ever get one.
Another year, another 'special' day spent alone in sadness.
How predictable.
Here's to nineteen.