Why Don't We One Shots

Gives You Hell - Jarbyn

Jack leans against the doorframe, watching Corbyn pack. "Where are you going?"

Corbyn wipes his red and puffy eyes. "We just had a fight, Jack. Where do you think I'm going?"

"Corbs, baby, come on," Jack says, pushing himself off the door and coming to stand beside Corbyn. "We've fought before. We'll work it out." He reaches for Corbyn's hand, but Corbyn pulls away, shaking his head.

"That's the thing, Jack. I don't want to work it out. Day in and day out, all we do is fight. All you do is make me feel like complete and absolute trash. And now I finally have the courage to tell you all of that. I finally have the courage to leave."

This has happened too many times before. Corbyn and Jack fight, Corbyn gets upset, Jack tries to smooth it over. And Jack usually wins. But not now. Not today. Not ever again.

Corbyn picks up his suitcase angrily and leaves Jack in what used to be their bedroom, utterly speechless. He gets all the way down the stairs, through the living room, and to the front door before Jack catches up to him. He stands on the other side of the room, as if afraid to come near Corbyn.

"Corbyn," he says, out of breath from running. "Are you sure about this? Are you sure you want to leave? This has happened before, baby. We can work this out, just like we have in the past."

Corbyn, furious, stalks across the room, seeing Jack swallow nervously. Once he reaches Jack, he takes the curly-haired boy by surprise and kisses him fiercely. For Corbyn, the kiss gives him a range of emotions, from sadness, to anger, to the bittersweet feeling that he'd never get another kiss like that from Jack again. Part of him was glad about that.

"When you see my face," Corbyn starts sweetly, "I hope it gives you complete and absolute hell. I hope it reminds you of everything you ever said to me, all those nights we slept on opposite ends of the house. I didn't even know if you'd be there in the morning. Sometimes we would fight for days and I would give up and let you win. That's not happening anymore, Jack." Corbyn shakes his head, backing away. "I hope it tears you apart a little inside. I hope when you hear my name, it makes your heart hurt, knowing everything we could've had. I hope it kills you to remember everything I gave you and how I never got it back. I can't pour from an empty glass, Jack." Corbyn picks up his bags and turns toward the door. "I can't give you the love I don't have."

"But...I...Corbyn..." Jack can't do anything but sputter.

"Hell, baby," Corbyn says, smiling devilishly, his newfound confidence giving him the courage to walk away from this, the courage to move on to something better. "Karma's a bitch, isn't it?"

~