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writingcold · 3 months

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Hello! Welcome to Chapter 5 of CD&FE.

Pairing: Jake X Female Reader

Summary: This is an AU that starts with the release of GVF��s first EP, Black Smoke Rising, and follows along life paths over the course of twenty plus years. More life happening without each other.

Content warnings: Language, smoking, drinking, adulting? Mentions of sexual situations, no smut in this chapter either.

Word Count: approx. 5.1K

@edgingthedarkness and @takenbythemadness thank you ladies. For all of it and everything. 💚

CD&FE, Part 5.1: Her POV

The metro area of the Twin Cities is home to many beautiful parks and green spaces that meander along the Mississippi River. I had found myself unpacking boxes in my new kitchen overlooking the river along a stretch in the historic district. The loft apartment had come open and had caught Frankie’s eye immediately. It was close to his university and it was close to my office. Somehow it made sense to move in since we had invaded each other’s spaces so much that it made no sense to keep up with two places.

“You doing okay up there?” I yelled out as I was setting up stemware to hang in the cabinet of the whet bar.

There was no answer. I turned down the volume on my phone and asked again with a little more volume. Still, Frank gave no answer. Finishing up the wine glasses, I set the empty box on the stack to break down before walking through the long living room and up the spiral staircase. I found him standing at the window, eyes frozen on the river. I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind and stepped close.

“You okay?” I asked, pressing my cheek to the back of his shoulder.

He placed one of his large hands across my wrist and gave a little squeeze. “Just daydreaming.”

“Oh yeah?” I sighed as I melted a bit against him.

“I know marriage is off the table,” he said, tone full of warmth, “but what about something else. Something for just the two of us.”

“Well, we have this home. We have us-”

“Y/n. I’m talking about a commitment to us. Something formal.”

I breathed in deeply. I loved him. Our relationship was steady and filled so much of me. But marriage scared the fuck out of me. It was not something that I wished for - not even as a little girl. All the friends would pretend to be beautiful brides with elaborate ceremonies and giggling fits over what happened that night. Hell, even Patrick would volunteer to be the groom and wear his ugly tux t-shirt and pretend to kiss the girls. Ick. I just never needed any of that. Even when my friends started to get married, it just did nothing for me.

“After buying this place, do you doubt my commitment?” I asked drifting away from him and feigning interest in the closet.

“No. Not at all. Even if we didn’t buy this place, I would not doubt it,” he answered, scratching at the beard on his cheek. “It wouldn’t change anything - not between us if you didn’t want to, but I just have this desire. Something that is meaningful for us.”

I frowned at the notion. I know, I know. Selfish, but I just didn’t understand the sudden shift. The night previous, we were fucking in every niche and corner of the apartment to make it all our own. Puffing out my cheeks I decided that it wouldn’t harm anything to perhaps continue the conversation.

“What kind of thing are you talking about?” I asked, sitting down on the corner of the bed.

“There’s so many different ways to show commitment, love,” he said, finally turning from the window to look at me. “Handfasting would be lovely.”

“Does it mean that we dress up and stand in front of all of our friends, and it costs a ridiculous amount of money to sign a paper?”

“Boy, someone is jaded,” he teased.

I instantly threw up my defenses. “Come on, I don’t-”

“I’m teasing.” He caught me by my hands and tugged me closer, though I tried to fight a bit. “It could be as simple as just us - no one else has to be involved. We just write our words out that we mean to say to the other. If you want to dress up fancy, you can. Hell, I’d be more than happy to have you there in those gross sweats and flops.”

At the sound of his laugh, I relaxed. I knew he was looking for a more outward show of commitment. I parted from him with a ‘I’ll think about it’, and it wasn’t lost on me that it was a rather romantic notion. I spent the better part of an hour trying to unpack books and albums and pieces of memories that would look good on display. My hands paused on the Deep Purple Gatefold. It had been ten months since I had seen him during the pre-show meeting. Billie had recovered and taken back control of the account and everyone went about their merry way.

I had avoided anything dealing with the band and even more importantly, Jake. I threw my whole focus into my relationship with Frank and of course, work. The job was taking another turn and growing all the more for it. I had insisted on keeping some contact with editing and creating, but was finding myself more and more in the wining and dining of new clients. It was fine. Way more glamorous than I ever was, but new accounts meant more business.

I found myself unable to sleep a few nights after the last box was unpacked and discarded. Frank was deep asleep. I slipped out of the bed and wandered down to the kitchen for a cup of chamomile tea. The night was warm and thick with pending storms. I watched from the sliding doors, not wanting to deal with the security code that I seemed to forget about at least three times a week. The lights of the bridges across the river rippled gold and silver on the murky water. It was beautiful. The constant strum of traffic and the stirrings of life was always welcomed, even beyond the glass I was staring through.

I tucked myself at the dining table with my laptop. Work was not what was calling to me. Frank's words about handfasting - whatever the hell that was - was prickling in the back of my skull case. I took a sip of tea and started searching for the ceremony, digging deeper and deeper. At first I was panicked that it was part of a wider wedding ceremony, but finally landed on the fact that it was just the piece that he was talking about. It was a lovely concept that could be tailored to just us.

“Caught you,” he said sleepily from behind me.

I grimaced in surprise. I was holding fast to my chest as he dropped a kiss to the top of my head.

“Why are you up?” I grumbled as I started to reach for the laptop in an attempt to hide what I was looking at.

“I discovered my love was missing,” he answered with a smile. I knew he had seen it. “I like that you’re looking at that.”

No point in being coy as he moved into the kitchen for a glass of water. I shrugged and wrapped my hands around my mug. “What about it?”

“Isn’t that what I should be asking you? Did you like what you found?” he asked, leaning his lean frame against the counter like a damn model.

I couldn’t really hide, so instead decided to be open. “It was interesting…”

I watched as his eyebrows raised and lowered with thought. I wasn’t giving him enough. I knew I wasn’t. Clearing my throat, I set my cup aside and found my feet.

“I liked the idea that we could do this just for us.”

“Yeah?”

I nodded. “I understand that you want this to be more so to show your commitment to us. I love you for it, too.”

“But.”

“But nothing. I think we should do it.”

The smile that lit his features made my breath stutter. My beautiful man was all messy hair and flustered at two in the morning. His excitement was easy to catch myself in. He started talking about the cording and creating our own bindings. We planned it out right then and there - because that’s what we were. We would then secretly celebrate it calling it a housewarming party. Perfect.

True to tradition, we selected the color of our bindings according to the meanings of specific colors. We decided to create our own cords, based on our commitment to each other, then twist them together. The first day of May found us on the roof terrace overlooking the river. Frank had poured us two very expensive glasses of wine while I found a pretty playlist for the afternoon.

“Where do you want to start?” I asked simply, my heart pounding clear out of my chest.

I was fingering my cord as I held it tightly behind my back, hoping like crazy that it would be up to his expectations. God, it was just the two of us and it still felt like there were a few hundred people watching. He bent and kissed me, robbing me of my stabbing thoughts.

“How about we share our bindings?” he said, taking his out of his back pocket.

I held mine out with a heavy sigh.

“What was that?”

I was finding myself swept over a tide of emotions that I did not expect. My chest felt like it was full of fire while my throat was coated with concrete.

“Baby, it’s okay. Just us here.” He trailed his fingers across my cheek. “Do want me to go first?”

I nodded my head mutely as my eyes totally betrayed me.

His warm laugh filled me with all the more feelings. I let out a stupid sob as he wiped at the ridge of my cheek.

“I picked red for passion. You have shown me nothing but passion in so many parts of you that are important. Your work, your life, your thoughts and beliefs are so full of this passion that it’s hard to not think of you without passion being involved.

“Next was blue for devotion. You make loving you so easy that it is hard not to imagine myself being devoted to our life together.

“Gray is for balance. You showed me that I don’t have to be so serious - all the time. There is a balance to our life together.

“Pink to show you that we can have romance. Silver to let you know that you are treasured. And finally, purple - this relationship is sacred to me.”

I cursed softly as I wiped at my face. He just smiled his perfect smile, holding the three feet of cord before me. I swallowed hard and held mine up.

“Black, green, gold, brown and white,” I struggled through these stupid words. No way I could be as poetic as him, but he was smiling the whole time. Those eyes encouraged me to continue. I let out a groan as I practically danced from foot to foot. “Strength, health, longevity, grounding, and peace. Everything that I hope we can share.”

I sucked in a huge breath like I was about to stumble into a panic attack. He leaned down and captured my mouth in a kiss. He whispered his love as he twisted the two cords together and took my hand in his. I watched full of sniffles and jagged breath as he wrapped our joined cords around our hands. I have to admit, in hindsight, it was beautiful. And it was just ours.

“Until this love ends,” he whispered.

I nodded as he cradled my face. He snapped a picture of the moment and we carried on, getting ready for our party. Patrick was the first to arrive with Sidney in tow. They were lovely as they filled our space with the warmth that all them. The housewarming was a success. Pat felt for sure something was up, but he dropped it when I finally just immersed myself in some conversation with Sidney that he found too boring to participate in.

In the night’s stillness, we made love until we were both complete messes of each other. He sacked out so completely that he did not realize that I was once again slipping out of our bed, unable to sleep. This time, a cup of hot chocolate was my comfort and my laptop was open to the main screen. There was a scrap of betrayal in my heart that was pulsing. Grinding at me like a virus that needed to be addressed before it delivered a murdering strike.

I pulled up my socials page. There were notifications from all sorts of friends, and on the professional side, those from contacts around the world. I ignored them. I tapped my fingers to the trackpad in debate. I had awoken because the shadow of him had strayed into my slumber. The shade of old love lay stoked in a fold of my heart that I was sure had been gone. But it wasn’t. I found myself on Jake’s private page, frowning that I was still allowed to be in such a space. But there he was. The array of pictures of him and his family and her was astounding. I felt like I was trespassing. He was happy. Every picture was that genuine joy that just radiated out of him like a beacon. I found myself wondering if he ever married the girl, but there was nothing regarding a wedding.

Feeling like a stalker, I closed out and shut everything down. I missed him. The absolute polarizing moment that felt like my entire self was being shredded in two - I was so in love with Frank. He got me. Held me. Elevated the idea of us. I could only imagine the awful hurt that he would feel if he knew I clung to this tiny shred of love that was never to be. What more, if he would ever find out that that love I held for Jake burned brighter than anything he could ever share with me, I’m sure it would be the end of me. Fuck. I felt myself crumble a bit under the weight of my own self hatred.

CD&FE, Part 5.2: Jake’s POV

“I’ll be right back,” she said, pointing towards the bathroom.

The airport was beyond busy. I sat down with a heavy plunk and the sigh that followed was filled with weariness. I wanted to be anywhere but heading out to Portland for yet another one of her friends’ gallery openings. It was great - don’t get me wrong. It was just literally us getting back from Sydney and jumping right on a plane without getting home to try to shift to changing time zones. We weren’t in our twenties anymore. We had just wrapped another tour, this time actually making it all the way around the planet. It had taken every bit of time for two years, but we did it.

Clara had lived through every time change, every plane trip, every bus misadventure - everything with me. All the while she had accepted the isolation and the absolute chaos that went along with being on tour. She somehow found the time in those long stretches of me being busy to wander. Her painting was really beautiful, and seemed to evolve as each month and each destination passed us by. She never complained. She never seemed to lag behind or want to return to Nashville and her studio. In all honesty, I was concerned that we could not flourish under such conditions, but somehow, we were doing just fine.

Except for at that moment in the Nashville Airport, it was absolutely packed due to weather delays. My head was throbbing and my patience had been worn beyond thin. I noticed that she was gone for quite some time when I started to look around to see if perhaps she made her way to a kiosk or was just walking to stretch her legs. A fan stopped with a look on her face and I was happy to oblige with a quick picture.

I started to scroll through my phone in hopes that perhaps Clara had found coffee or some form of super caffeine to power through this sludge of jet lag. I responded to texts from Josh and Mom. I checked the socials to find that Danny had posted up pictures of his boys playing on dad’s kit. I grinned at the auburn haired boys in their feral joy.

“Hey!” Clara called out as she was practically running towards me. “Grab our stuff. You’ve got to see this!”

The excitement was just roiling off of her. Her smile was beaming as she was grabbing at my hand to rush back the way she came. Her words were pouring out, most of which were lost due to the noise around us, but she was definitely chirping about seeing something while stretching her legs. She tugged me all the way back to the shops, stopping in the window of one of those stores with all the decor and little trinkets. There were poster prints framed along the upper walls. Clara was pointing up towards the top and was practically bouncing.

“It’s so strange to see something of mine here!” she said, her frame bounding with excitement.

Indeed it was one of her pieces she had done a few years prior when we were in Scotland. It was rough and wild and muted and perfect.

“That’s amazing, babe,” I said as I wrapped my arms around her.

It was not the first time we saw her work someplace, but any time we saw it, it solidified that she was truly a professional artist, not just a hobbyist. We bumbled back to wait for our flight, which finally made it out only four hours later. Portland came quickly after falling asleep on the plane. I fought my own self to drag my body off the plane and not be grumpy about it. At least the hotel was close by.

Clara was all full of energy. I was not. I might’ve been a bit of a dick about it. She had already been on the phone with the friends to meet up at a bar. I knew, however, the moment my feet entered our room, there was no leaving it. At least not that first night. She called me old, but you know, I didn’t care. At least we didn’t argue about it. She was cleaned up, changed and out the door before I could fully figure out that I really didn’t need to be in public.

I wandered down and found a few beers to drag back to the room with what looked like some kind of sandwich. Perfect. I chewed my food mindlessly as I scrolled through my feeds. Somewhere in the course of beer number two, I landed in less familiar territory. I found myself looking into Y/n’s page. It had been close to a year since I had last found myself anywhere near her sphere. It had been nearly five years since the last time I saw her in person. She looked good. Beyond good. She looked happy. It looked like she was still with the same guy. Imagine my surprise when she posted up a picture of her hand being held by him with a cord wrapped around it. I had no clue what it was supposed to mean. I finally had to look it up only to find that I wanted to vomit. She was pretty much married to this man - something she had proclaimed to never truly desire.

I tossed the phone onto the night stand with a curse. She was happy. That was all that counted. I was happy with Clara. Things were beginning to wear thin on the whole engagement front. It was really getting old to have the folks question when they could expect us to either show up married or invitations. Her family was scattered, but the friends were beginning to question if I would ever really commit. Some voices were louder than others. But Clara, herself, was beginning to lean towards making it official. There was a piece of me that just resisted. I was sure this was the part of me that was still dedicated to the idea that I would finally land in a place where Y/n and I would be together. It was juvenile hope that drove that desire, but it was there. Rooted deep in the shadows that Clara just couldn’t reach with all of her sunshine.

To see Clara in her element was something special. The night of the gallery opening, we were there, dressed well and champagne in hand as she glided through business partners, friends, and colleagues alike. She had several commissions that she had been working on that were coming to a close soon. It was like watching a bird on a branch that was ready to take flight. She was so talented and unique. Her nature spilled out into every stroke of her art. Sometimes, I wondered if she was putting her literal spirit into the paint. At some point in the show, I found myself off to the side in a darker corner, alone. There were people around her that I had no idea who they were or what they wanted from her. And I was fine in my little corner. I did the partner thing - smiled and waved whenever her gaze turned to mine when she needed reassurance. Eventually, though, I found myself alone completely. Her friends were nowhere to be found and Clara was gone.

I couldn’t help the pang of anger until I dug my phone out to see I had the Do Not Disturb on. When I turned it off, I was quick to hold my hand over the speaker to dampen down what seemed like a million notifications. Finally a text had come in that Clara was discussing a show in Chicago with a gallery owner who was quite taken with her collection. She said to head back to the hotel if I wanted to.

Wow. Dismissed.

I didn’t like the feeling that washed across me. I landed in the hotel bar drinking a double bourbon and feeling sorry that I was sitting on that ugly assed stool in that ugly assed bar. I knew I was being stupid. This was basically what Clara did all of the tour - waiting. Waiting for those few hours each day that we could be together uninterrupted. I could at least extend her the same kindness. Honestly, though, through the jet lag and the lack of courtesy, I just felt slighted.

Up to the room and I once again landed face first into the socials, staring at that picture of Y/n with a short description of what she said was handfasting. Hurt. She hurt me each time she would not accept my love for her. She hurt me with a show of ability to formally love some other man. Did it squelch the spark that lingered in my soul that was only for her? No. God that woman fucked me up in ways no one else could.

We were in Portland for three more days. I spent most of the time buried in the bed at the hotel. Clara was apologetic, but it was work. Her work. When we finally reached home in Nashville, it was quiet. She was in her studio working. I spent time with the family, and she was working. I flew up to Michigan to spend some time with the parents, and she was working. She was really on the precipice of something big and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to step in the way. I allowed her that space just as she allowed me mine when I was working.

We were off for eight weeks. I had eight weeks to write. With Clara in her own space, I worked with Danny and Sam dusting off a few projects that we had set aside. I can’t lie, I was feeling a bit of distance between us when it came time to start the festival circuit for the summer. It was the first time that she stayed behind. Her opening in Chicago was the last weekend of July. I promised that I would get a ticket and be there as it happened to be on an off day in between shows. We were supposed to be in Denver for the start of one festival on a Friday and heading to New Jersey to finish another on Sunday; so really, the events were thankfully lining up right. No way I would miss that show. Her big debut.

I had not been alone on tour in years. It felt odd. Sam had brought his whole family since the kids were off for summer vacation. Danny, too. Josh and his partner were thick as thieves with their small brood. And I was alone. I struggled. Clara and I tried to connect over video calls and texts. Late night phone calls did not work as she was either still working or dead asleep from hours of work. I fought my own selfish need for her to be with me. To watch my nieces and nephews tear around like we did when we were little made me feel a little removed. I loved playing with them. I loved being Uncle Jake. However, knowing that I had only myself at night while my brothers had the love of their families so close - hurt.

July had come storming through. We had criss-crossed all over, soaking up the summer crowds. I was busy. Somehow, Denver arrived and I had forgotten to purchase my own ticket to get to Chicago. I had been saying for weeks that I was going to get a ticket. Each conversation with Clara, I was literally looking at airlines, and yet, I never purchased said ticket. The day before the show, I was talking with Josh about the debut. I was proud, showing off pictures that she had shared with me of what had been selected to be featured in her show. Mom had called earlier in the week. Her and Dad were already in Chicago, taking the opportunity to visit family there before showing their support for their almost-daughter-in-law. I was so caught up in the shows and little things that I simply forgot to get my ticket.

The night of the Denver show, I was on the phone while waiting for sound check. One of the assistants took pity on my stupidity and offered to help. After our check, he returned to me with a few options, all were just impossible. One option was to fly to LAX first before Chicago. Another was to fly to Pittsburg then back to Milwaukee with a car rental. There was a private flight on one of those death traps, but my gut threatened to vomit all over the place just with the thought of being on one of those things. I could also rent a car - and try to make the fourteen hour drive. I was fucked. The best I could do was fly standby.

“I don’t understand. I thought you had the ticket purchased,” Clara said, her voice thin on the phone.

I was shoving everything into my backpack as fast as I could. It was seven in the morning and I had a cab waiting for me downstairs. I was going to sit in that airport and force my way on any flight heading to the Midwest. I would make it. I could hear the stress in her tone. I could hear the disappointment between her unspoken words. I texted her when I scored a flight to Rapid City. From there, I’d be on standby, but it was more likely to get me to Chicago before the end of the show. I would be there. No matter what.

I didn’t hear from her. I knew she was probably beyond pissed off with me. I had been careless. I got to Rapid City and found myself stuck. Storms to the east across Minnesota had stalled my trek. I could fly back to Denver and hope for the best. Really?

“It was a noble try, Jake,” Josh said, just before the chaotic mass of Kiszkas and Wagners were boarding the flight to Newark. “Just get your ass here and you’ll have to sort it out later. I’m sure Clara will understand.”

“This was her fucking debut! I can’t miss this. She expects me to be there,” I barked loudly.

He was right. He knew it. I knew it. Our obligation was to get our asses to the next show. It was thirty minutes until her opening when I called. She didn’t want to hear it. She knew that I tried but was too busy with her task at hand. She said she would explain it to my parents before she hung up.

Exhausted, I surrendered to a red eye flight to Newark, but had a stop in Minneapolis. My heart gasped with a deep ache. It was hard not to feel that it was Fate poking a five pound block of salt in the wound. Bitch.

I didn’t make it to New Jersey until somewhere around five in the morning the day of the show. Management scolded me, but sent a car around to pick me up. I slept a few hours before hitting the stage before a crowd of 40,000 people. I wondered if anyone noticed that I was off that night. I swear my chest was flayed open for any and all to see how I had fucked up.

I tried to call before and then after the set, but Clara didn’t answer. I called Mom and she gushed how good the show was and how impressive Clara had been. I knew that she would handle it with grace, but…

“She’s angry,” I said, allowing myself to feel my own disappointment.

“Clara’s got all the right in the world to be angry with you,” she responded in between talking with Dad.

“I can’t fix it, can I, Mom?”

“I’m not sure, honey,” she answered truthfully. “All you can do is show her that you still love her. That she’s your center, Jacob. Time will make it up. Just means you have to try harder at her next showing.”

I flew home the next day. Everyone else had a week to spend with the families before a show in Toronto. I found her in our room with her bags packed and boxes waiting to be filled. I really had fucked it up beyond repair.

😐 I know. Just hang in there. Next posting is messy. I mean, messier than this one.

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