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insertsickusername13 · 1 year

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as a prompt: a richjake roadtrip after senior year

this took me so long.who knew road trips were so hard to write? wtf. like it's such a classic it should've been easy, but i started this weeks ago and only managed to finish it now bc i just refused to close the tab until i finished. and on that note i've been writing for the past hour and my brain has lost all ability to process the english language so i didn't edit it. if there's grammar mistakes or certain sentences are total nonsense then i'm very very sorry

uh, warnings? mentions of sex. mentions of drugs and alcohol.

word count: 5,437 (yes, it's longer than I wanted. its a roadtrip. how am i supposed to write that in a thousand words?)

On the second day, Rich told Jake he liked him. They were up in Maine, planning on getting all of New England before heading west. Jake had the passenger seat pushed back as far as it could go, eyes closed and legs almost straightened. It was early—7? Maybe 8?

When Jake had insisted they go on a road trip together, Rich had imagined late mornings in hotel rooms and late nights in clubs. (He also imagined Jake realizing just how terrible this would be for his legs within the first three hours, but it was hour eight and he still seemed determined.) Instead, he got a rigid schedule and a pre-made playlist. No bars or underground concerts—just Mount Rushmore and Chicago and art museums. Aquariums where there were ones, beaches when they could.

They’d only been through Massachusetts and Connecticut by the time Rich gave in. They were alone for the first time in ages—and not in their house, not with the promise of going to school and seeing their friends the next day. They were practically in the middle-of-no-where-New-Hampshire and Rich could pull over, stand on the roof of the car, and scream, “I love Jake Dillinger!!” and the only person who would hear would be the object of his affections. The urge to confess flurried within and around the car like an unshakable snowstorm.

He didn’t mean to say it. In all honesty, it was a misinterpreted phrase, a result of Rich’s excessive talking as Jake hummed from the passenger seat, half-asleep.

“But Interstellar just had more,” he said, only half paying attention to the empty highway, “Like yeah, okay, Tenet was weird as fuck and probably had a cooler concept if I was smart enough to figure it the fuck out, but the main character’s name was fucking protagonist. Who becomes emotionally attached to a dude named protagonist? It lacked the depth Interstellar had. Plus, Interstellar felt attainable. Like fuck yeah, I wanna go to space.”

“Mhm.”

“I’d take you with me. Maybe Michael, but I’m not sure how ventilation works on a spacecraft and his weed might stink up the whole thing.”

“Probably.”

“You’d be a menace, you can barely handle gas station food, let alone space food. You’d have a heart attack at not being able to have your weekly caviar.”

“You’d just throw me out in space,” Jake mumbled, not even bothering to deny the caviar jab.

“Nah, I like you too much,” Rich teased, poking at Jake’s exposed stomach. He expected a squawk, at least for Jake to shove him away, but there was only silence. Rich took his eyes off the road for just a split second, interest piqued, only to be met with Jake’s wide, terrified expression.

He’d said it a million times before and never overthought it, but maybe there was something different about this time. Maybe it was because they were alone rather than surrounded by friends, maybe it was because now they’d planned a life together—college, in Boston, Jake at Harvard and Rich at Emerson, still roommates. Maybe it was accursed Maine and all its forests, or the way Rich emphasized like. Love was a common word between them, said every sleepless night since the fire, but like meant so much more. Like implied a hesitance only present where romance was seeping into every word.

“No, you don’t," Jake seethed.

Rich scoffed. A restless apprehension crept its way up his spine and settled in his fingertips, which tapped against the steering wheel.

“Pretty sure I do, buddy. You’re—”

“I’m your best friend and you don’t like me.”

Oh. Oh fuck. Jake meant like that. He knew, he—fuck. Rich had to consciously stop himself from accidentally sending the car tumbling into the forest.

“Okay,” Rich forced out, “Okay. I don’t like you.”

Jake’s sigh of relief was similar to a comet colliding with Rich’s home. He squeezed the steering wheel and kept his mouth clamped shut, terrified that one wrong move would send them spiraling off the edge of the Earth.

As it turned out, though, Jake didn’t mind Rich’s confession. He didn’t directly acknowledge It afterward, glad to pretend he was still blissfully unaware of every icy undercurrent running under their feet.

Rich thought an explicit rejection would hurt. He’d imagined how it would go a million times over, a passive version of self-destruction. He lay awake next to Jake’s sleeping body and thought of every word he’d say, how he’d say it, the way he’d look away with guilt. Rich had all his responses planned, all his apologies already written. He was prepared for an, ‘I’m so sorry, I just don’t think of you that way—’

He was not prepared for Jake’s arm slung over his shoulder, lips close to his ear, and that quiet, breathy laugh Jake only let slip out around Rich.

They were in some local museum meant to educate passing tourists about some half-abandoned small town Stephen King would write about. It was reasonably entertaining, mostly a distraction from the storm of heartbreak he was trying to disassemble in his chest. Just one night—he needed one night alone in a hotel room to sob out every sorrow, then he’d bounce back. Just one night.

If only Jake would stop trying to kill him. Rich was satisfied reading about boats or whales or something (he’d forgotten, too busy thinking about Jake’s fingers clutching Rich’s t-shirt to keep his balance) with Jake a good two feet away, examining a painting. But Rich’s beautiful demolitionist decided his next target was Rich. He appeared to the right of him and practically draped himself over him, impossibly energetic for being in a place that reeked of desolation and dust.

“Fuckin’ Maine and their lobsters,” Jake grumbled into Rich’s ear, resting his chin in the crook of his shoulder.

Every possible witty response died before Rich even had the chance to think them up. His brain was too muddled with Jake and Jake knowing and Jake being so close. Where there would usually be a confession on the tip of Rich’s tongue, unspoken but overwhelming, there was only the bitter aftertaste of hope.

“Yeah,” Rich stated, simple and short. Jake’s cane knocked against Rich’s knee. It wasn’t even on the ground anymore, having been replaced by Rich.

Jake made a small sound of confusion before nuzzling a bit closer and said, “Do we wanna drive to Vermont for lunch? Or are we staying here?”

“It’s like a four-hour drive.”

“So we’re staying here?”

“If you want.”

Jake shifted away slightly, just far enough that Rich began reteaching himself how to breathe.

“You’re all red,” Jake stated, soft and oblivious.

Okay, so no breathing. Rich writhed in Jake’s hold until he was free and standing three feet away, face even redder than before, an instinctive reaction to Jake’s intense, unwavering gaze. Picking through the flood of panic in his mind, Rich only barely managed to get out, “Sorry.”

“Why would you be s—oh. No, that’s—I didn’t mean to—like, we’re—”

Rich was going to cry. In front of the boy he was in love with, he was going to cry. Jake sounded so panicked and apologetic that Rich could almost feel it gathering like snowflakes in his hair, coating the floor in pure white dust.

“Jake, stop. It’s fine.”

“Are you su—”

“Let’s just go to lunch. I saw a diner on the way here.”

Jake nodded rapidly, almost desperately, as he stormed from the room—almost as if he could escape Rich’s feelings merely by leaving this goddamn museum behind.

He almost succeeded. It took an awkward lunch and two hours of driving on an empty highway, but eventually, Rich’s one-word answers slipped back into enthusiastic ramblings and Jake learned not to flinch away whenever Rich’s hand got too close.

Rich still cried when they got to the hotel. It was his turn to pay and, despite repeatedly telling Jake that he was going to save as much money as possible, he bought two separate rooms for them. Jake didn’t so much as blink. Still, the next night they were in a shared room with separate beds, far enough that if Rich reached out he’d be met with only empty air, but close enough he could still hear Jake’s breathing.

It wasn’t until Illinois that Rich was once again faced with the consequences of his stupid, unintentional confession. Once again in different hotel rooms, Jake had to knock on Rich’s door at 2 am to get his attention.

Rich was half asleep, his phone in his hand still open to Michael’s text messages. At first, he was convinced Jake was a figment of the SQUIP—the knocks would get louder until Rich was on the floor, rocking back and forth with his hands over his ears waiting for the noises to stop.

But then he heard, “Richie?” and his panic evaporated as if it was never there.

“What the fuck?” he said, answering the door with a fabricated scowl. At Jake’s nighttime smile, it melted into reluctant contentment.

Jake held up a towel and a pair of swim trunks. “Hot tub? I saw they had one.”

“Well, it’s most definitely closed by now.”

Jake ducked his head with a bashful grin on his face and shrugged. Rich knew by now that Jake only followed the rules when adults were there to praise him for his obedience, and Jake knew Rich knew, but he always acted like a scolded child when he suggested something even vaguely rebellious.

“Could be fun,” he whispered, blushing at the floor.

“Oh my god, gimme those and stop acting like a five-year-old.”

Jake positively beamed, sunshine incarnated. Rich almost had a heart attack as he ripped the swim trunks from Jake’s grasp as quickly as he could, doing everything in his power to avoid brushing Jake’s hands against his own as he slammed the door shut to get changed.

By the time they got to the hot tub, Rich was sure he was going to die. He didn’t know he had a thing for boys picking locks, but seeing Jake on his knees in front of the glass door, his credit card in the slit between the door and the wall had done something to Rich.

And Jake, skin red from the hot water, eyes glazed over from the third beer he’d had (that someone Rich hadn’t noticed was in his hand)? Yeah. That was something else entirely. He was frozen despite the heat, paralyzed by Jake’s hands on his hips, tracing stars with his thumb.

“You’re so pretty like this,” Jake whispered, voice almost lost in the foggy steam filling the room. He wasn’t making eye contact, instead staring at the point of contact between them like he could see the pearly gates of heaven reflected in the water.

“Yep,” Rich squeaked. He didn’t want to say no, he would do anything to be able to enjoy it for what it was, but… but fuck. This was survival for him. He couldn’t wake up tomorrow in Jake’s hotel room and continue as if nothing had happened—it wasn’t a wouldn’t. There was no choice in this. Rich could not have sex with Jake and be forced to be friends with him afterward. He couldn’t have his feelings manipulated and abused, no matter how much he loved Jake.

Oblivious to Rich’s internal musings, Jake leaned down until he was so close Rich was almost convinced they were kissing.

“You want this?” he said. Just those three words, not the ones Rich was aching, breaking, longing to hear, were enough for their lips to brush together. Less than a second, barely a moment, and Rich thought he felt the moon shatter.

Rich would’ve responded if he could get air in his lungs, but Jake was so close he inhaled all the oxygen that would’ve been Rich’s. All he could do in the haze, the fire, the fear, was shake his head ‘no.’ Not when Jake was drunk. Not when he was looking at Rich like he used to look at Chloe.

Jake jerked back an inch, then two, brows furrowed with confusion.

“I thought—”

“I don’t like you, remember?”

Jake blinked. Rich could tell he was being too slow, his intelligence impacted by the alcohol. It shouldn't take this long for him to figure out what Rich was trying to say—usually, he’d be able to predict Rich’s next words before he even thought them up.

This time, though, Jake just whispered, so small his words could fit in the space between every molecule of air between them, “What?”

“I don’t like you. You told me I don’t like you.”

Another second passed, stretched far beyond what should have been physically possible. Only then did Jake’s eyes flash with recognition.

“Right,” he said, then smiled, “Right, but that was just—I was freaked out, but I’ve thought about it, so much Rich, it’s all I can fucking think about, and you’re—”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m buzzed at best, Rich, listen to me—” he got closer again, eyes alight, and for a split second, the same amount of time it took for someone to realize they were about to die, Rich felt a flicker of hope. Innocent, buttercup hope. Jake in his arms. Waking up to Jake’s face pressed into his hair. Jake kissing him lovingly.

Rich’s face contorted to hide the blissful fantasy from Jake’s prying eyes.

Jake jerked back again, this time so far that he fell back into the water (gracefully, because everything Jake did was graceful), expression a crater of ash and fire.

“Do you… I don’t…”

“You’re hurting me, Jake.”

Jake scrambled farther away, fumbling through the water to the edge of the hot tub as if it was made of glass shards. His mouth was open, words spilling out in a desperate, violent waterfall.

“No, no, you’re not listening to me, Rich, I want you—”

“Yeah, when you’ve got me half naked.”

“What?! No, stop, I’m telling you I want you, all of you, not sex, or—”

“Jacob I can see your boner from here. Don’t try this. It hurts. You can’t—”

“I’m not trying to!”

Jake’s voice was getting loud, his face redder than before. His wet hair went from sexy to frazzled and threatening. His hands were pulling at the roots, tangling in the knots. Rich recognized the mosaic his fear created and could almost see Jake tumbling off cliffs of insanity and desperation. He knew Jake through the months he spent alone in that empty mansion after his parents left, either drunk on expensive liquor or high on the pills his mother left behind, he knew just how dangerous a desperate Jake could be. Not violent, but so goddamn broken it was impossible not to cut himself on the pieces as he gathered him up and reconstructed him back into a man.

“Then stop it!” Rich screamed, “You don’t fucking know, Jake. You’re fucking—the only relationships you’ve been in have been about sex and, and popularity, and you don’t understand this feeling.”

It was as easy as that. Rich knew he’d twisted the knife, knew that maybe he’d taken it a step too far, but he didn’t deserve this. After years of pining, Jake didn’t get to reject him and then try to bed him. That wasn’t allowed.

When Jake spoke again, it was emotionless. Monotonous. Devoid of all humanity. Words on a page, scripted and controlled. Rich had lost all access to Jake.

“What happened with Chloe doesn’t define me. You know that, I know you know that, so don’t even fucking try me. I don’t know what it’s like to hide and lie about my feelings for years, but you don’t know what it’s like to watch the only person you’ve ever loved—”

“Don’t say that.”

“To watch the only person you’ve ever loved,” Jake repeated, more determined this time, “flinch away whenever you so much as look his way because he’s so insecure he can’t accept that maybe you want to spend the rest of your life with him.”

Rich’s fists clenched. He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up out of the hot tub, but he was standing by the door, dripping and scowling and on the verge of tears.

“Fuck you.”

“Really? That’s it? Tell me what you want. Tell me you want me and it’s that simple. Tell me you know I want you.”

“You’re my best friend.”

Jake flinched at his own words thrown back at him. He kept his mouth clamped shut as Rich kept talking.

“You’re my best friend and I don’t know what the fuck is up with you tonight, but you told me yourself that we’re friends. I’m not going to let you ruin that with sex.”

“That’s not what—”

“I’m not going to let some half-hearted relationship ruin us, Jacob"

Jake stayed silent, seemingly waiting for more. Rich watched him realize there was nothing left to say, that this was the end of the conversation. His lips were trembling. Rich wished they weren’t.

“Fine,” Jake breathed. He sagged to the floor, knees pressed against the tile, hands clasped politely in front of him. “Fine. Friends. Best friends. If—if you really think being together would ruin us, then we’re just friends.”

“Good,” Rich said as if he couldn’t feel each cell within him bursting and bubbling with acidic heartbreak. “Friends.”

They stayed there for a moment, waiting for some finale to hit—some final blow to tattoo this night in black on their skin—but there was only burning silence.

“I’m going to bed,” Rich said finally.

Jake only nodded, still staring at the floor. Rich slipped from the room and screamed out sobs into his pillow until the sun forced light back into his life.

He stumbled through his morning routine, struggling to close his suitcase and stuff it into the trunk of their car. It wasn’t until he saw Jake, his smile bright but eyes tired, sitting alone in the dining room that the haze lifted just enough for him to realize friends ate breakfast together.

He sat down across from Jake without a word, and only once Jake looked up from his half-eaten breakfast did Rich force the skeleton of a smile onto his face. Jake mimicked it with much more success.

“Top of the morning to ya, buddy,” he said, the word buddy spat out like it hurt, “So, I was thinking, St. Louis is like an hour and a half away, maybe we stop there around noon, see the arch thingy, the move on. There’s a zoo like thirty minutes from there that we can stop at for a while. We can end the night in Wisconsin, see I don’t know, some small town, then tomorrow we can go to Minnesota?”

Rich nodded. He wasn’t sure if he could speak yet.

“Great! I’ve still gotta pack up, so just let me do that, then we can hit the road.”

Rich nodded again. Jake’s gaze lingered too long, flitting across his face, from his bloodshot eyes to his lips, before he finally looked away, his smile faltering. He cleared his throat.

“I’ll see ya in a bit, then.”

“Yeah! Can’t wait.”

Rich wished he could think of more to say, but the day seemed to be coated in an unbreakable silence. The car ride was awkward—Jake kept the radio off, choosing instead to prompt Rich with question after question as if they were kids meeting for the first time. Rich offered up every answer he had. He didn’t have many.

They stopped for ice cream sometime in the late afternoon, after a tense trip to the St. Louis arch during which Jake elbowed Rich after making a joke and Rich almost hyperventilated.

“What should I get?” Jake asked, surveying the menu.

“Whatever you want.”

“I want you.”

Rich whipped around to face him, every muscle in his body clenched and ready to fight.

“What?”

“Raspberry looks good.”

Rich didn’t push it., but the words echoed in his ribs until his lungs were bruised.

It happened again a week later. An art museum in Washington.

“It’s beautiful,” Rich said, staring in wonder at a painting of the ocean during a storm.

“So are you.”

Rich didn’t turn to look at him. He scrutinized the painting, looking at every color and brushstroke until three minutes later, Jake had to go to the bathroom.

In California: An aquarium gift shop.

“Do you like it?” Jake asked, watching Rich hold a penguin stuffed animal against his chest.

“I love it,” Rich said, his voice muffled by the fabric. He was hiding his face behind the wings so Jake wouldn’t see his eyes watering at the fact the cashier had called Jake such a good boyfriend for buying him the penguin.

“I love y—”

He had the decency to cut himself off.

“I’m glad you like it,” he amended, and it was left at that.

Until Texas. A hotel twenty minutes from the Space Center Houston only had one room. Of course.

It had two beds. Rich sat upright in one, phone in hand, Michael on the other end. Michael didn’t know what had happened between Rich and Jake, but he did know Jake was on the other side of the room, headphones on as he stared at his computer doing one thing or another. Rich watched him, still helplessly in love despite the repeated heartbreak he experienced every time they did so much as make eye contact.

“Las Vegas was so overhyped,” Rich complained, “Probably because Jake and I can’t legally gamble, but the hotel was so fucking cool. There was this giant fountain and so many lights. Almost had a panic attack because of the noise, but once I got over that it was sick.”

“Las Vegas or San Fransisco?”

“San Fransisco 100% buddy, not even a question. Food was great. I was a little scared we were gonna get devoured by a wildfire, but we ended up fine. East Coast is so much better, though. I can’t wait to get back. Jake said we can stop in the Everglades.”

“You want to got to the Everglades?!”

“Yes!! Snakes, Michael! I need to see a Burmese python and alligator fight to the death!”

“You’re crazy.”

“I’m well aware, but this is a childhood dream of mine that must be fulfilled before death takes me.”

Michael laughed. Jake made a strangled sound from across the room.

Rich froze up and instinctively forced an awkward smile on his face, tense and unsure of what exactly had prompted Jake’s reaction. He glanced at his pretty sunflower out of the corner of his eye—his hunched shoulders, a posture that was so unlike him, his face illuminated by the computer screen. Rich cleared his throat to rip himself from admiring him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m hilarious,” he choked out, “Okay, it’s—it’s late, I better get going now.”

“It’s like 9—”

“Night!”

Rich hung up but stayed staring at his phone for far too long, terrified to do anything but.

“Are you okay?” Jake whispered. His computer was closed now and he was facing Rich, crisscrossed on his bed. Rich straightened and nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, just tired. Sorry.”

“Have you been tired for the last three weeks?“

Rich blinked at him, too focused on the blue of his eyes to comprehend his words.

“What?” he finally said. Jake just shook his head and turned off the lamp, deciding darkness was the best course of action.

Rich thought it would be him who’d be unable to sleep, haunted by blues and I love yous, but it was Jake who tossed and turned and writhed in his sheets, wrestling with some invisible enemy long after Rich fell asleep.

When Rich awoke the next morning, it was to Jake packing his suitcase. He stayed still for a moment, admiring Jake as he carefully folded each shirt, hands gentle and sure of themselves. Since Illinois, every look he’d given Rich was coated in a layer of lies Rich hadn’t been on the receiving end of since sophomore year.

He didn’t know Rich was watching him now. He looked sad, irrevocably so. The tip of his nose was red, the first sign of sadness. Then it was the parted lips—he was a snotty crier. Rich learned that after watching Bambi with him. He’d been crying, and now he couldn’t breathe through his nose. His chest was moving up and down in stuttery, unsure movements, and after every piece of folded laundry, he had to pause to press the heel of his hand against his mouth to stifle a sob.

“What’s wrong?” Rich rushed out, the usual sluggishness of his mornings completely eradicated by Jake—Jake crying.

Jake jumped at the sound of Rich’s voice and regained his composure within a split second. There was suddenly a smile, open body language, and eyes that remained just as dead as before.

“You’re awake! I have something for you.”

“I don’t care, what’s—”

“No, no, trust me, you’ll care, hold on.”

Still smiling beautifully, he turned to the desk and grabbed two pieces of paper. Then, movements peppy and face alight, he sat down in front of Rich and handed them to him.

“Okay…?” Rich said, looking down at the pieces of paper with little interest—Jake. Crying. Jake. Crying. That was all he was worried about.

Until he realized the papers were printed out plane tickets. One to Florida, the flight set to leave eight hours from then. Another three days later, from Florida to New Jersey. He reread the words. Then reread them. And again. And again.

All he could get out was, “What the fuck?”

“You can see the Everglades!” Jake said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well—well yeah, but… we’re driving there? Together?”

Jake shook his head. “No, yeah, we were, but—I mean, after Illinois…”

He paused to clear his throat and look away. Rich was on the verge of screaming, but that could wait until Jake had finished whatever shitty explanation he was about to offer. The longer the silence lasted, the more Jake’s sunny demeanor faded out.

“After Illinois, I mean you don’t—you aren’t happy, Rich. Not around me. Last night, like, with Michael—” Rich had never heard Jake struggle with words this much. He was stuttering, tripping over his words, raising his volume too high then lowering it to the point Rich could barely hear him. “—you were talking to him, and you won’t do that with me anymore, and I want you to talk like that because it’s—fuck, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and if you can’t do that around me anymore—because I fucked up and apparently ruined the best thing to ever happen to me—then maybe some time apart would be good for us?”

Jake looked up at Rich hopefully. Rich wasn’t sure what he was hoping for and he didn’t have the energy to figure it out through the anger crawling inside his skin.

“You’re kicking me out?”

“No! No. I just think you should have the chance to be—no, I need the chance to—I want you to be happy—”

“I’m happy.”

“You won’t even look at me. You won’t talk to me. I’m hurting you.”

Rich suddenly understood why Jake had looked so heartbroken after hearing the phrase you’re my best friend. Having his words manipulated and turned against him hurt more than the flames ever had.

“That’s—no—”

“And I thought I could fix it by just being your friend, but we’re not even that anymore. I want us to be. So badly. I can’t lose you. I can’t go to Harvard without coming home to you every night. And I’ll do anything to save us, and right now that means you have to get away from me.”

“Stop—”

“So I got you tickets to go see the Everglades. I even booked you a boat tour. I’m not sure about seeing a Burmese python, but you can try. Then you can have the rest of summer in New Jersey with Michael and everyone else, and we can meet up in Boston, and everything will be okay.”

“Jake—”

“I can’t ruin another relationship. I know I have a bad track record, I know I can’t commit or be romantic, and you’re probably right to realize I’d destroy whatever beautiful thing we managed to create, but honestly, you’re more beautiful than anything I could ever make, and I can’t destroy that, I have to protect that, even if I’m not around to see it for a while.”

“No—”

“But I can move on while we’re apart, and hopefully you can too, then we can be best friends in Boston and roommates forever and you can get married and I can pretend I’m happy for y—”

Rich kissed him. Quick and sloppy and frantic. It was hypocritical, to say the least, self-destructive if Rich was being completely honest with himself. But the feeling of Jake falling into it, pressing closer and moving so his trembling hands could press against Rich’s waist and back, was intoxicating.

Rich kept it short, though the feeling of just Jake’s gentleness was enough for him to want more.

He pulled back, Jake trailing after him until he collapsed against Rich, forehead pressed to Rich’s shoulder and lips pressed to his neck and collarbone.

“I don’t understand,” he said between kisses. Rich promised himself he’d memorize the feeling before it was taken from him.

“I’d rather be heartbroken with you than happy with anyone else,” Rich explained softly, tangling his fingers in Jake’s hair and pulling his head back to look him in the eye. Jake breathed out a sound Rich chose not to identify and tried to lean up and kiss Rich again.

“You’re not ruinous,” Rich got out just before Jake gifted him kiss after kiss like offerings to a god, “You’re not destructive and Chloe doesn’t define you and I’m sorry I implied she did, I shouldn’t have, and I’m terrified I’m gonna lose you and terrified this is all a prank and terrified you’re going to leave—”

“Never,” Jake confessed, eyes closed and expression melted into pure bliss. “Never, ever, ever. It took me too long to realize how bad I want you. I can’t lose more time.”

“I want you too.”

“I want you to be happy.”

“I can be once I get my head out of my ass and realize you’re even more perfect than I thought.”

Jake laughed soundlessly and pulled Rich onto his lap. “Perfect?”

“You’re gorgeous. You’re kind. You’d never purposefully hurt me, and I was stupid to think you would. I just—it hurt. The car. You telling me—Jake, I was still in survival mode. I didn’t mean anything I said. I swear it. Please don’t make me leave.”

Jake shook his head.

“No, I won’t. I can’t. I’m sorry for what I said in the car. That wasn’t cool or okay, I just… panicked? Because I always knew—I didn’t want to say it, or think it, or acknowledge it, but I knew, and you saying it made it so real I couldn’t even pretend I could ever want anyone else and that was—I wasn’t ready for that to hit so suddenly.”

Rich felt so warm inside he was convinced he was going to overheat and collapse in on himself like a dying star. He kissed Jake like he was made of roses until he was convinced he’d erased every terrible thought he’d placed in Jake’s mind in Illinois.

“So we’re going to stop being cowards now,” Rich said, clear and determined, “And I’m going to be happy because the most beautiful boy in the world decided I’m worth his time and he’s going to be happy because now I’m here to tell him he’s the most beautiful boy in the world every single morning, and that he can’t kick me to the curb even if he tries.”

Jake laughs and nods and kisses him again.

“God,” he whispered, tracing stars on Rich’s hips, “I’ve never been so glad I wasted two thousand dollars in my life.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

There was a short, weighted pause. Then, “Wait, did you say two thousand? Jake, flights to Florida should not be two thousand dollars.”

“Well, not for economy.”

“Econ—you were planning on giving me first-class tickets to Florida to soften the blow of practically breaking up with me?”

Jake was too giddy to be offended. He wrapped himself around Rich and kissed him again.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time, shut up.”

“No, I am not shutting up, that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. We’re going to seriously work on your spending habits in Boston, buddy—baby—you’ve got the rest of the summer to be an idiot with your money, then we’re starting a retirement fund. For fuck's sake, you’re going to be broke by the time you’re thirty.”

#bmc #richjake #jake dillinger #rich goranski #i can't spell i'm so tired #help me #the ending was so rushed i'm so exhausted #sorry besties #i'll try harder next time i swear #i keep thinking tomorrow is saturday which is why i stayed up so late working on this but i literally have school tmrw #whoops #sparkly star fanfic

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