ahhhhh i dont really know what this is
i just wrote it last night and today for no apparent reason
it's weird for me though because it's all in jacks point of view and i hardly ever even use him or write in a male's p.o.v.
enjoy i guess :)
AND SORRY FOR TYPOS IM DYSLEXIC AH
- - -
Keep Me Guessing - ~ - A One Shot.
Didn't want to hurt you.
Thanks for everything.
I stared at the sheet of paper and analyzed each word carefully, noting how she dipped each letter lower and lower which made me think she had written it while sitting as the passenger in some commercial fishing boat cast to sea. That was something Roxy would do; she'd make an abrupt decision when she was in a random place, and then she'd leave. She'd move on and be gone in a matter of minutes.
I hadn't really made the full, complete, one hundred percent choice that I believed in “love” or whatever. I figured I'd always leave that to my significant other. If the girl I was with decided that true love just didn't exist, then it didn't exist. But if the girl I was with decided that there was one soul mate for each person in a world of seven billion hopeless souls, then dammit, that was fact. I was a mold to be filled.
Things were different when I was with Roxy Lucille Hansin. Like, for example, I was never really sure if we were even together and that's why I followed her around like a lost puppy in a big city.
I'd say, easily, nine out of every ten girls demands a title. The second a guy asks them on a date, they want to change their Facebook status to “it's complicated”, and then by the second date, it's already to “in an open relationship”. If you're not ready to get serious, then you have to stay away from third dates because that's just how things /worked/. Generally speaking, of course, because when it came to normal girls, Roxy was the exact opposite.
I was Jack Barakat.
I wanted to have sex with anything that had a pulse.
I was the wing-man.
I was the guy who hadn't had a real, honest relationship in seven years.
I, as far as anyone was concerned, didn't have a clue to what feelings were.
And that was how I was treated.
Girls would come and go pretty frequently, one of the many perks of being a semi witty lead guitarist in a somewhat successful band. There were your typical one night stands, the groupies who came to a third of the shows in a tour, and then there were the girls who were just digging for fame or something, I wasn't completely sure, and once they realized they weren't going to find it, they left after maybe a week – two and a half weeks tops. My point being, nothing was serious or to be taken seriously.
This brings me back to the whole Roxy being different thing. She and I, if we were ever together, had seen each other for a good four months. That was a new record. The thing I loved most, though, was that I hadn't even mentioned All Time Low to her up until last week. We met while I had spent the summer with my parents in Istanbul. She was studying abroad – for what, I hadn't ever asked her.
I remember it literally so clearly that it made me at least want to be a firm believer in true love and soul mates and all of that crazy shit. Because honestly, I think I loved her. I think I love her.
I had gone back to the makeshift hotel she was staying in after a day of walking around the streets, to find that it was possibly the dirtiest thing I had ever stepped foot in. To sum it up, it made me glad that I had gotten a Tetanus vaccination prior to my visit.
My first instinct was to offer her the extra bedroom at my parent's place, since I was the only one visiting, not May or Joe. She said she couldn't ever pay me back and she didn't want to trouble anyone, so I called my mother right then and there, and it was a done deal.
Roxy had spent the majority of the summer with me there. That was counting the mornings when I'd wake up and she wasn't there, and the days were she only stopped by to let me know that she was, in fact, still breathing. I never asked her what she was doing or where she was going or anything, I would just leave it, and I think she liked that.
So when I woke up this morning and dragged myself to her room, only to find that she wasn't there, it didn't throw me off too entirely much. What did, however, was that her bed was made, her bags were gone, and there was a single slip of paper laying ever so sloppily on the nightstand.
I crumpled it up and threw it into the pocket of the jeans I had fallen asleep in and marched into my room, anger flowing through each vein in my body. Last night was perfect. We had gone for another walk, ate at a cafe, tried to dance, failed, then came back where she kissed me goodnight and acted like everything was fine. And now she didn't want to hurt me?
It was bullshit. Straight up bullshit, and if only Roxy knew that leaving me a note only made me want to find her ass and tell her how much I liked her more. If she left unexpectedly, maybe I'd have shrugged it off and let her go. Maybe, probably not, but maybe.
I jumped in the shower without waiting for the water to heat and let the water trickle down my body as I devised a plan, or I at least tried to. I had to think of the places where she might be. Worst case scenario: she was already on a plane back home to wherever she came from, which I had no clue as to where that might be. I didn't know a lot about Roxy Hansin, but at the same time, I felt like I knew entirely too much.
After throwing some shampoo in my hair I stepped back out and grabbed a fresh pair of jeans, some sneakers, and a hoodie that smelled fairly clean. I grabbed a hat off of my dresser and fast walked my way into the kitchen, where my mom was chopping some sort of vegetable up.
“Jack, dear.” She smiled up at me, her faint Lebanese accent ringing through each vowel. There was something so comforting about moms, I guess, that put me at ease, made me feel like Roxy could wait. That was until I saw she had left her coat slung over the breakfast chair.
“Hey, did you see Roxy this morning?” I asked as my fingers traveled across each stitch on the worn leather of her jacket. She looked so good in it. “I, uh, can't find her. Not sure where she went.” I shrugged. I didn't want to tell her about the note. There were some things you just shouldn't really tell.
“I did not.” She shook her head as her eyebrows knitted together. “She'll be back, I'm sure.” No, I thought, I don't think so, not this time. “She'll show up, Jack.” She let out a sigh before looking up at me. “Breakfast?”
“I'm not hungry.” I mumbled. I grabbed her coat and told my mother I'd be back later as the door slammed behind me. The wind howled in the sunlight, forcing me to squint my eyes so tight I was sure people would make the assumption I was Asian once I could open them again. Either way, I walked down the stone steps of the house and headed straight downtown.
There were two places that instantly flashed into my mind.
1. The shitty hotel room.
2. The cafe we had visited many times.
I didn't know which one I was going to go to first. I planned on walking, or running, until I saw her because there was no way I was leaving back to Maryland without her. Things had been too good for too long for me to just forget her and move on. That was not an option.
I grabbed my phone out of my back pocket as I started making my way through the smaller villages. There was little to no service in the side of Istanbul that we were, but it was worth a shot. If she could just pick up her phone and give me five seconds to--
“Hey, it's Roxy. I'm probably doing something right now but I'll call you back as soon as I can, promise. Byeeeeeeeee.”
I opened up a new text message while navigating my way and it proved to be a really challenging task, especially when you don't have any coordination or ability to multitask. Somehow I managed and shot her a quick “where are you?” before giving up on her phone and putting my own back away.
Roxy and I had never, not once, used our phones to talk to each other in our stay. And now, it kind of freaked me out that it had to come to that.
“Sorry. Excuse me. Sorry.” I said quietly as I continued to push through people, the population growing as my pace sped up. The people probably didn't understand a word I was saying and thought of me as an ignorant tourist, but forgive me for not grabbing a translating dictionary on my way out. What language did these people even speak? Istanbulanese? Istanbulian? Turkian? Did tourists even come to Istanbul, Turkey? Like who just decides to go to a random country in the middle east then trot on over to fucking Istanbul?
I apologized for the millionth time as I nearly tripped a woman once I had finally reached the heart of the little city. I was at a full jog now, scanning over each head for the one that had recently become familiar. It was a little difficult, though, considering that almost every fucking human in this place had dark ass hair.
I stopped running and slowed down, suddenly thinking of her face, every single feature: her perfectly proportional nose without a single bump or flaw to be found; how her hazel eyes glistened every time she laughed; her strangely amazing messy hair that I suspected she put little work into – because she didn't need to; and the dimples on her cheeks that complimented her light freckles perfectly. I missed her. She had been gone for maybe an hour and I fucking missed her.
God, she had turned me into a pansy.
I spotted the cafe I was looking for and ran around the people in front of me. I instantly began scavenging each table, ignoring the weird looks from everyone else that told me I was being way too intrusive. I didn't care.
“Roxy?” I asked. It wasn't to anyone in particular, but it was common sense that if you called someone's name, you were going to get a response. A head jerk, an eyebrow raise, maybe even a “what?”, but you were bound to get something. And I did.
Roxy buried her face into the flimsy, paper menu, almost embarrassed that I had found her in the dumb, but annoyingly complicated, game of hide and go seek she had created.
I pushed the gate of the cafe's patio open and sat myself down across from her without invitation. I grabbed the menu from her, just stared, and waited for her to talk but I guess she was doing the same thing. “Why'd you leave?” I asked, an involuntary frown forming.
“I don't know.” Roxy replied with a tone a little quieter than mine. She knew. I knew she knew. And she knew that I knew that she knew. “You got my note, didn't you?”
I nodded. “Indeed I did.” I replied, pulling it out of my pocket and handing her the now very crumpled and unappealing piece of paper. My eyes were begging her to tell me why, just begging for her to give me a complete reason.
“Exactly what it says. That is my reason, Jack Barakat.” She sighed and crossed her hands on the table. I read the note over in my head in her exact voice, even though she had never even said those words to me. “I'm leaving, didn't want to hurt you, thanks for everything, sorry.” It didn't make sense. Even though, Roxy and I were never “a thing” per se, she still didn't even look at another guy. Never. How could she hurt me?
“I don't get--”
“You're too nice for me to let down.” She shrugged as the waiter brought her a bottle of some Turkish beer. Drinking alcohol at ten in the morning was just another factor that led me to believe she was my soul mate. “You're too sweet, too funny, too caring, too /good/ for me to let down, so I was going to kindly show myself the door out of your life but you just had to ruin everything.” She joked. It wasn't really a joke, though. More of an uncomfortably true statement if you ask me.
“You weren't going to hurt me.” I replied, my question still not fully answered. “I think I wouldn't even care if you ended up hurting me or whatever. Nothing was wrong, right? Or was something wrong?” I asked worriedly, like the way a thirteen year old girl got when her boyfriend of one week ignored her at recess.
“You weren't the problem.” She rolled her eyes, almost appalled I had even suggested that. “You took the effort to actually find me, so I mean, I should probably. . . Do you even want the truth? Honestly?” She asked.
“No, Roxy. I ran through a town of llama herders without eating breakfast just to find you for you to lie to me.”
“Right.” She nodded. “I can't pretty this up for you.” There was a pause and an inhale. “I'm engaged. I am a fiancee. I am to be wedded in a month.”
“Like, married engaged, or like. .” I trailed off, trying to find something that wasn't as God awful as this was. She was engaged. Right as I think I've found someone who is so terribly perfect for me, she has to be almost fucking married. And thus, my belief in true love being flushed down the shitter.
“Is there any other kind?” She asked while tracing her finger around the rim of the bottle. “I didn't want to hurt you, I didn't want to tell you.” Roxy was back to mumbling, but at least we were onto eye contact. Maybe we were going to sort this out. Maybe. “It was probably the most inhumane thing I've ever done. To just lead a stranger on and convince myself it was okay to fall in love with them when I'm, you know, sort of engaged.”
She was in love with me.
“Is this an arranged marriage?” I asked. I was still trying to think of ways to make this sound nicer, ways to convince her it was alright to run off with me and forget her future husband because that was all I wanted. I wanted her and I and no one else.
“God, no. I'm not Amish you queer.” She joked. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn't love him before I came here. I looked at it like we were only dating, even though it was for almost two years. Then he asked me to marry him and I didn't know what to say. Call me a horrible person, but I was sort of hoping to get a call saying that he was diagnosed with an incurable illness and had died.”
“If it wasn't me you were in love with then I might say you were horrible.” I smirked. I didn't know what I was feeling. What are you supposed to feel when someone who you're sure you possibly love just randomly lets you know that, hey, they're actually spoken for!
I looked down at my shoes then back at Roxy to see she was equally as stressed.
“What are we going to do?” I asked. She shrugged. “Am I supposed to be cool with you leaving forever? I will not be able to sleep at night knowing you're marrying a guy you're not completely happy with. That is a promise.”
“You're so cute.” Roxy smiled for a mere two seconds before it fell. She looked so perfect when she smiled. “But I don't know. I can't hide here forever. I have school and family and, you know, a fiance.” I cringed.
I wanted to tell her that I wanted her to stay with me for the rest of the summer. That things were going to be fun and easy and great. That if she just /stayed/, there would be no consequences at all. I wanted to tell her how much she meant to me. I wanted to tell her that if she married this douche, I was going to die. Just flat out die.
“I can't make the decision for you.” I said solidly. Roxy let out a breath and moved one of her fingers to my own and began tracing my knuckle. It was soothing for the both of us.
“I hope you don't think I'm a two timing whore.” She whispered, still forming circles over and over and over. I didn't mind at all. “That I randomly go to foreign countries and pick up another guy. I knew it was wrong and I'm never going to do it again.”
“Yeah.” I replied, not quite sure what I was agreeing to. “And if we're still being honest, I'm a pretty irresistible man. How could you deny me?”
“Very true, very true.” Roxy laughed. “But I can't believe you honestly went out looking for me. I bet you were just out and about and you saw me, didn't you?” She asked, half believing that it was true, and half hoping that it wasn't.
“Roxy, I would swim the ocean for you. That's how much I like you. If you told me to wait for you because you needed to break off your engagement, then I would wait for as long as it'd take. Days. Weeks. Months. Years. All because you're worth it, that much. And I hate to say it but I think I'm more in love with you than you could ever be with me.”
I had been watching the circles she was making on my finger as I spoke, and by the time I looked up, she was watching me, her cheeks a happy shade of crimson. “I don't want to marry him.” Roxy muttered. “I'm not ready to get married. I wasn't ready when he asked. I'm. . . I don't know. I don't think I'm the marrying type.”
“Then tell him.” I replied quickly, instantly feeling bad. If I was the guy she was about to break it off with, I would have died. Just sat there and died a slow death.
“The most romantic thing he had ever said to me was 'that's quite an ass you've got there' and I've known him since kindergarten. You'd think he'd have been able to tell me how the stars shine for me or something, right?” She asked bitterly. “But then I've known you for only a few months and you tell me you could wait an eternity for me. That you'd swim miles and miles for me.”
“Well, yeah.” I laughed a little in attempt to not bring out the awkward I was feeling. Although, I was entirely too happy that I had told her how much I really felt for her. It was completely true, as gay as I sound. If she really required me to swim miles upon miles for her in shark infested waters, I would already have my swimsuit on. There was something about her.
“I wish I could stay here forever.” Roxy sighed, I agreed. And that was when I knew it, that Roxy wasn't going to leave me, that for once in my life, the feelings I felt were completely mutual and true and /real/. That this cafe where the waiters only spoke two words of English was going to be our place, safe from the world of responsibility and commitments. “Love has been waiting; patient, and kind.” She said as her eyes moved to the ocean.
“The Ballad of Love and Hate.” I smiled. “I love that song.”
“How I feel about you.” She explained with a subtle, but extravagantly gorgeous grin. “I'm yours and that's it, whatever.” She quoted the song. “I'm yours and that's it, forever.”
“You're mine and that's it, forever.” I repeated, the song playing over in my head. Suddenly, the inside of me turned into what I imagined as chocolate instant pudding, all gooey and soft and something that a man should not be feeling. This was as perfect as my life could ever have possibly gotten.
“And I mean it.” She interrupted my pudding thoughts. Roxy stopped the circles and slid her hand into mine, slowly letting her fingers drop into the crevices between my own. She gave me a comforting squeeze. “I'm yours, Jack Barakat.”
I smiled. I loved how she used both my first name and last name. It made me feel like it was simply another thing that was ours and ours alone.
“Walk?” She suggested after noticing how my gaze was slowly being captured by the ocean we were only a quarter of a mile from. How could it not, though? It was a weird kind of beautiful to watch the waves continuously crash into each other and onto the shore, a cycle that wouldn't ever be broken. It was weird to think about it.
I put down six Turkish liras that were laying in my back pocket and left Roxy's unfinished beer to sit at the table. I followed her out of the cafe gate and across the road where we hit the sand. I simply slipped my hand into hers and let our fingers intertwine as we took long strides to the waves.
I didn't know what we were going to do, or rather what she was going to do. I planned on leaving that up to Roxy herself because it seemed like she always found a loophole, always found a way around something.
In the current moment, my worries faded and nothing mattered too much. I had her, and she had me.
- - -
maybe i'll continue this noe day
but i was just feeling overly cheesy lol
if anybody wants to tell me what they thought that'd be nifty
i never really write one shots so feedback would be cooooool :*