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-- golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --
GT: Do pardon but does this happen to still be dirk striders chumhandle?
TT: The one and only.
TT: Yo.
GT: Oh thank all those bangup diamonds in the sky!!
GT: Hello dirk!!!
GT: Its me jake.
TT: Jake.
TT: Jake English?
GT: The one and only. *double pistols*
TT: Holy shit. Haven't heard that in a while.
GT: Did ya miss me?
TT: If I said I missed you I'd probably sound like a creepy ex. It's good to hear from you.
GT: So is a gent supposed to take that as implication hes still mused about or...?
TT: Shit. What's it been, like five years or some equally fucked up travesty?
GT: Something in that ballpark.
TT: Definitely in that ballpark. Practically up the umpire's ass.
GT: Goodness you haven't changed a bit. Still tugging on the old heartstrings with such poetic prose i see.
TT: I've actually changed quite a bit.
TT: Not really a freckled ass of a nineteen year old anymore. Thankfully.
GT: I quite liked your nineteen year old selfs spotted behind! A real charmer that fellow.
TT: Me or my ass.
GT: Both.
TT: Really now.
GT: Mhm! A bit strange maybe but a top shelf compatriot through and through!
TT: Please go on. I'm interested in hearing more about this probably handsome, probably awesome, young man.
GT: Im sure you would!
TT: He was probably pretty sexy, am I right? I’m right aren’t I. His boyfriend at the time was hardly a forgettable face either.
GT: Oh yes. They were quite the pair! Mr english was a fetching fresh devil and mr strider was excellent on dates and even better beneath the sheets.
TT: Excellent enough to disappear off the face of the earth for.
GT: Strider.
TT: Yeah. Never mind. Maybe we shouldn't be talking.
GT: Im sorry.
TT: It was a long time ago.
GT: I know i never got to tell you that but
GT: I am.
GT: I am so sorry.
TT: Trust me I'm well over it.
TT: Like three years over it.
TT: Four, if we’re being generous.
TT: And while I appreciate the sudden contact I'm actually not sure I want to drag this disaster of a broship up from the ninth layer of hell.
TT: Maybe nine is a little harsh. Let’s go with five. Or maybe two?
TT: Our broship was discarded somewhere beneath the Earth’s crust. There.
TT: And anyway I’m not in any position to flirt around right now.
GT: I didnt mean to come on so strong!
GT: I mean i really didnt mean to come on at all.
GT: I didnt realize you had a boyfriend now. Which honestly figures. I dont know what i was thinking.
TT: I don't have a boyfriend.
GT: You dont?
TT: As you well learned I'm kind of a pain in the ass to keep around.
TT: I just meant that don't take kindly to exes rekindling old flames when they've already burned the whole goddamn house down.
TT: The house is dead, Jake. Hell, we took out the whole fucking neighborhood.
TT: Real estate agents hate them. Two inexperienced teenagers get away with property genocide using one weird arsonistic trick.
GT: I told you i was sorry!
GT: And anyway you broke up with me!
TT: You took a trip to South America without telling me. I thought I was going to have to file a missing person report.
GT: I needed a break! You were so bloody anxious over me i didnt have much of a choice.
TT: You could have said something!
GT: You made me feel like i couldnt!!!
TT: You abandoned me!
GT: I didnt
GT: You know i didnt mean to.
TT: Fuck.
TT: Fuck. Fuck fuck.
TT: My nineteen year old self was an ass okay.
TT: I'm sorry.
TT: I’m genuinely sorry.
TT: But I thought you loved me. I thought you could come to me about anything. I thought I at least deserved a proper break-up.
GT: I did love you.
-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering golgothasTerror [GT] --
-- golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] --
GT: Im sorry.
TT: Don't be. I was weird and possessive. End of story. End of story five years ago.
GT: No.
GT: I was miserable but i was more terrified of hurting your feelings.
GT: But i ended up hurting you even more in the long run and trust me when i say ive come to terms with that.
GT: I was a coward.
GT: And im owning up to that because i know better now.
TT: Fan-fucking-tastic. You contact me with this weird notion that you've gone on some spiritual, cinematic journey into maturity and now you're banking on the fact that I've grown of my obsessive boyfriend stage so you can get some.
GT: I do not want to get some! Whatever that may or may not imply.
TT: Then what the fuck do you want from me.
GT: Lunch. Tomorrow. Crockers. At two sharp.
TT: Oh.
GT: Yes.
TT: A date.
GT: Yes.
TT: Oh.
GT: Yes.
TT: Why?
GT: Because youre truly lovely.
GT: And i havent forgotten you.
-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering golgothasTerror [GT] --
-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering golgothasTerror [GT] --
TT: I didn't forget about you either.
-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering golgothasTerror [GT] --
-
You’re nervous.
Mostly because you reread your conversation with Jake over a few (hundred) times and are pretty sure you’re a 100% certified douchebag. You didn’t even officially tell him that you would show up. What the fuck, Dirk.
You love him.
You do. Five goddamn years and he still haunts you. He was your one that got away in every cliché airport novel sense of the term. Jake English. Your middle school crush and first love and fuckbuddy and almost-fiancé all rolled up into one glorious name that you’d forbidden yourself years ago from even speaking.
You love him a lot.
The question now is his opinion of you.
You haven’t grown up as much as you might think you have. You’re still verging on scrawny territory and while your height has filled in to compliment your overly broad shoulders the rest of your body has yet to catch up. (You’re starting to doubt it ever will.) Besides the lankiness you still have too many freckles and your nails are still bitten down to nubs and the dark circles under your eyes are still starkly apparent next to your unhealthily pale skin and you had to rewash your hair three times today because it kept drying wrong and looked like a fucking mess and—
A mess. You’re still a mess.
You’re sitting in a local diner waiting for a boy that you scared off five years ago and you realize you’re still a walking disaster.
The urge to bolt is overwhelming.
Jane sets down a cup of hot chocolate in front of you.
“It’ll calm you down, nervous nelly.”
You can’t even bring yourself to thank her as you stare into the dark abyss of liquid anti-anxiety. It’s warm where you cup it with both your hands and watching the pool of chocolate swish around is oddly calming.
“He’s late,” you state.
“It’s only three minutes past two, Dirk,” she says. You hope the light chuckle she adds on at the end is towards your cocoa mustache and not the way you’ve been watching the clock like an obsessive hawk.
Jane pats your back. “Don’t stress, hon. Whatever happens will happen.”
“What if he remembers why he ditched me in the first place,” you rush out. “What if he already caught sight of me through the window and realized what we were all fucking thinking and leaves because this is a terrible fucking idea. What if he’s angry? What if he wants to fuck with me?” You flinch. “What if he wants to literally fuck me, Jane. What if he’s just looking for a booty call—“
“Are we thinking of the same Jake English?”
She shoots you a questioning look. You take a second to process her point before giving her a noncommittal and brooding shrug. Fuckin’ logic. You’re having a crisis and Jane’s comforting you with logic.
“You’re right,” you grumble.
“Mhm,” she hums. “Yours and Jake’s lunch is on the house, by the way.”
“If he shows up.”
“When he shows up.”
You will never win with her.
“You’re a doll, Jane.”
“I know.”
She grins at you and kisses your cheek before departing for other awaiting tables. The lunch crowd has died down though, so there’s only a few others in the diner. Which is perfectly okay with you. Just in case things go sour the fewer eyes to watch you slink away the better.
Jane’s pep talk lasts about ten minutes before you’re back antsy again. It starts in your fingers, tapping silent rhythms that irritate your brain. Your leg starts quivering. Your T-Shirt suddenly feels suffocating. You’re pretty sure everyone in the room is glaring at you every time you look away from them.
The next thing you know you’re spilling the dozens of sweetener packets from their tableside container and carefully replacing them in a scrutinizing and perfectly color-coded manner. You think it’s a nice distraction but Jane brings you another cup of hot chocolate and tells you to cool it on the obsessive organizing.
“He’ll be here,” she says.
Jake English does not arrive until 2:37pm.
When he does you hardly recognize him. The subdued ding of the restaurant’s entry bell echoes into startling silence as you gaze at each other, eyes frantically searching for familiarity and changes.
He’s filled out a lot more than you. He’s grown taller, thicker—he looks like an actual man instead of a teenager. His face has grown more defined, but it’s yet to lose its endearing softness. He’s smiling at you. He’s smiling at you and there are tears in his eyes. There are tears in his eyes and he’s… he’s…
Wearing a suit?
“English,” you say, standing up from your booth. Your voice sounds so weak you want to slap yourself.
He hugs you.
It’s not just a normal hug though. It’s some sort of desperate tackle, running start and everything. His forehead is leaning heavily besides your own and he has a death grip on your back.
“Dirk,” he breathes out. “Dirk, Dirk, Dirk.”
“Jake?” you reply. “Jake, is something wrong?”
“Never,” he says. He pulls off of you, hands still holding your shoulders with a firm grip. His eyes are now fully glinting with tears and he has a grin that is as large as it was when he was nineteen. “Never, ever, ever—I did it, Dirk—I made the right call for once in my dadblasted fuckfangled life—“
“Yo, slow down for a sec. What’s going on—“
He kisses you.
Sharp and fast and full and you jump from the surprise of it. You think you hear a glass shatter and Jane give a gasp of shock somewhere in the distance.
“I love you,” he confesses against your lips.
Oh, you think.
“Oh,” you say.
You push him away, only slightly, hands pressed firm against his lapels. His face falls as the seconds tick by. You’re reeling, but you’re not sure if it’s in a good or bad way.
“Let’s just…” you start, taking a deep breath. “Let’s take a step back.”
“Oh goodness. Strider, I’m sorry—“
“No. Don’t be. I mean. At least that card’s on the table. You just caught me by surprise,” you say. You’re still impossibly close and his scent is distracting you. “Absolutely no take backs, by the way.”
He gives a nervous chuckle and looks up at you with such a hopeful gaze you’re not really sure you know what to do.
Five years is a long fucking time.
“Not going to lie. Confused as shit right now. I need baby steps to whatever the hell just happened. Handholding is wanted and appreciated because I am equating a toddler in my current understanding of this situation.”
“I…” he mumbles out. “I… I don’t know how to explain.”
“Just… what’s with the sudden reconciliation. What’s with the sudden confession. What’s with the fuckin' tux. No offense to Crocker but this place isn’t exactly fine dining.”
“Oh, this old monkeysuit?” Jake laughs nervously again.
You furrow your eyebrows and give him a pointed look. “Jake, what’s going on?”
The tears haven’t gone away.
“Dirk. I...”
“Yes?”
“Dirk I was supposed to jump the broom today. Right now, actually.” His voice is so quiet you can hardly hear him.
“Excuse me?”
“I was taking the plunge.”
“What?”
“Heading down the middle aisle. Dropping anchor. Insuring for life.”
“Jake I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about—“
“Buying the cow. Getting spliced. Hitching up.”
“Jake—“
Jake is practically hyperventilating.
“I’m was supposed to be there today but I couldn’t—I couldn’t do it—They’re probably looking for me—She’s probably so upset with me but I couldn’t—Oh, I couldn’t—Her mother will probably skin me alive—she’s a positively dreadful woman—her mother not my fiancée—“
“Whoa hold up. Fiancée?” you almost yell, halting him. Now you’re definitely sure everyone in the diner is staring at you.
“Yes! That’s what I’ve been saying this whole futzing time!” Jake hollers out. “I’m getting married!”
Silence hits you like a brick. You don’t really have a comeback to that.
“Married,” you whisper. Disappointment is heavy in your voice. “When?”
Jake glances at the clock.
“About… About fifteen minutes ago.”
“Oh,” you reply.
“Yeah,” Jake says.
“I see. “
“Yeah,” Jake repeats.
“And you’re…”
“Here.”
“Holy crap,” Jane says. You apparently failed to notice her standing nearby, a tray full of dirty dishes still in her hands. Apparently Jake didn’t notice either, because he jumps when he sees her.
“Janey. Long time no see.” He shoots her a sad smile and a shrug.
“You ran away from your own wedding?” she says in a shrill voice.
“Still hopeless, I know,” he murmurs. He’s getting choked up again. “I’m an awful person and I don’t doubt it. I’ve done a cruel, cruel thing today but I couldn’t—both of you must think so ill of me but I couldn’t—“
“Oh, sugar,” Jane practically throws her tray on a nearby table and hugs Jake solidly, letting him stoop down to rest his head in the crook of her shoulder. “Shhh, shush, it’s okay. You’ve got a right to back out. It’s alright, honey. It’s okay.”
With all the confusion and getting to the bottom of Jake’s sniveling you completely forgot why you were here.
Jake loves you.
Right.
“So,” you start. Both of them look up to you. “Am I the wedding crasher? Or the impulsive rebound?”
Did you fuck up your wedding because you realized you were in love with me? Or did you realize you were in love with me because you fucked up your wedding.
“Dirk, that’s rude—“
“It’s okay, Jane,"
“I support you no matter what. You know that,” you say. “But it’s been five goddamn years.”
“Dirk," Jane begins again.
“You‘re not a wedding crasher,” Jake states.
“Then why’d you kiss me?”
“Because you’re Dirk Strider.” His smile sends flutters to your heart. You shove them down.
“I’m aware.”
“Because I love you.”
“You’re having a crisis from ruining several hundred peoples’ day, including the woman you proposed to.”
“Because I’ve always loved you.”
"Jake. We haven't spoken in five years."
"I have!" He exclaims. “You let me kiss you as much as I wanted and you never once carped about my constant need for movie dates and when I fell asleep on the couch you always managed to shamble me to the bed without waking me up and when we watched Poltergeist you let me keep all the lights on in the apartment for three nights straight and you’re a bloody awful cook but every time I eat instant ramen and I can never quite get it as delicious as you used to make it and… and…”
He stalls. “You’re beautiful. You’ve always been beautiful. And we fucked up our relationship, yeah. But I still think you’re beautiful.”
You’re not beautiful. You’re standing in the middle of a family diner with oil-stained jeans, a shitty anime T-Shirt, and no significant other to your name.
“I’m a wreck,” you say.
“I just left my fiancée at the altar,” Jake replies.
“...Right.”
Something stirs between you. Not particularly romantic, but rather a release. Some sort of tension you may or may not have been clamping onto for five years drains out of you and you laugh. A real, genuine laugh bubbles from your mouth and you hug him. You hug him and smile and laugh some more because he’s such a disaster. You’re such a disaster. You’ve always deserved each other in the best way.
He moves to kiss you.
You freeze.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, drawing back quickly.
“Baby steps,” you say. Your voice is weak again. “I am the toddler. It’s me.”
You hear the clink of a dish and look down to see that Jane has brought the two of you a sundae. She shoots you a wink. You’re going to start sending the woman your medical bills with the amount of sweets she gives you.
Jake stares at you sheepishly.
“Dirk Strider, since I am not currently a married man, would you do me the honor of having a sundae for lunch with me?”
“Jake English, I’d love nothing more.”
Had the other customers of the diner actually been paying attention to you, you think they would have clapped.