Relapse

"the best part of believe is the lie"

Soundtrack
Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year—Fall Out Boy
I'm Not Okay—My Chemical Romance
Smile in Your Sleep—Silverstein

1

Jack

Jack hates running. Who in their right mind would enjoy such bullshit?

Mia. Mia Clarke loves that brand of self-torture as much as she loves the brand of self-torture that includes destructive, dangerous boys she thinks she can save, boys like Jack Moreno.

Her calendar was still in his—their—apartment, and she was signed up for some race-run-walk bullshit at the end of the month, so Jack signed up, too. She knew how much he hated running; she knew how hard it would be for him. This had to show her that Jack was trying for, or at least thinking of, her.

To be fair, the first month of their separation didn't bother Jack all that much. They needed the break; she was nagging the absolute fuck out of him, and he really didn't give two shits about anything, which was exactly what he told her as she threw her clothes in the ancient duffel bag he used to use to smuggle alcohol into parties as she told him for the thousandth time that she couldn't do it anymore. Month two was when Jack realized that his life was quickly going to hell without her and that she had been the only thing keeping him afloat; he was willing to admit it was a lesson he somehow managed to forget every time they broke up, and this was the third time in two years.

Mia did everything for them when they were together, put in all the effort, and Jack just seemed to coast along; she was stable while he was desperate for something to latch on to, for while Mia was willing to give Jack everything, Jack wanted to learn how to love someone with all he had, but all he had was next to nothing.

***

Jack really had planned on calling her that week before fate intervened. It seemed insane to have to plan a phone call with someone he'd been with for two years (give or take a few weeks from their splits), but that was where they were. Jack was going to see if she wanted to meet up and talk, see where they stood. There were things he had to talk to her about, things that she'd eventually find out if—when—they got back together and it would have been far better for her to hear them from him than one of their friends or, God forbid, her brother.

As Jack finished up mile two of that morning's run, he panted with exhaustion, sweat dripping into his eyes, and he cursed himself for not having brought a water bottle. But, like most problems in his life, Jack knew he could find an easy out. There was some new cafe down the block from him, Bean and Some Shit, so he spent his cool-down walking there to grab something to drink. The moment it was in full view, Jack knew Mia would like it; she would think a place like Bean and Some Shit was so cute. Maybe she'd be willing to see him if he suggested they met up there.

The sign on the door read Bean and Brew (though Jack would never call it that), and a little bell announced his presence to the whole staff and lot of patrons when he stepped inside. But there wasn't a single one of them who caught his attention. As if his eyes were drawn to hers by some force more powerful than either of them, Jack drank Mia in as she stared, unblinkingly, at his presence.

There he was, a sweaty fucking mess, and there she was, a cotton-candy blue sundress hanging on her body as if it were stitched by angels just for her. Time took a backseat and let them have a moment where no one else existed. No one else except some shiny-faced jack-off sitting across from her. Jack ground his teeth, fingernails dug into his palms, and his pupils dilated (which he'd claim was for Mia rather than the prospect of beating the shit out of the guy she was with).