Forgive me. I haven't written a story in a while, mainly because I'm currently healing from a breakup to my boyfriend of a year and seven months. Not fun.
This new fic is a bit different then what I usually write, not as angsty as I wanted it to be, and sort of all over the place. Unbeta-ed. I didn't even proofread it for errors. Literally typed it up maybe half an hour ago. It's based on the song "All Hail the Heartbreaker" by The Spill Canvas. Hopefully someone enjoys it?
Disclaimer: I do not own JONAS, or the song "All Hail the Heartbreaker" by The Spill Canvas.
1.
"The magic… it's gone."
And when those words fell from her perfectly enchanting lips, Nick Lucas shattered.
2.
He's a guy, dammit. He's a 17 year old guy. Aren't the 17 year old guys supposed to be the heartbreakers, not the heartbroken? Aren't they the ones usually stereotyped as the one who strings along the girl, aren't they the ones that are supposed to hurt, not be hurt?
But he never wanted to hurt her. Not ever. He loved her too much. He had never loved a girl like he loved her. He wanted to marry her, he wanted to have babies with her. She was the only person who could ever make him relax, make him stop worrying about everything that's going on in the world and just worry about having fun. And so what if he was only 17 and she was only a year younger? He was beyond his years – he didn't believe in playing games, he didn't believe in flirting with every girl he laid eyes on.
He believed in love. And he believed it was supposed to be with her.
How could she do this to him?
3.
He had managed to convince his family that he was okay, that they would remain friends, that it would only take a few days for him to bounce back and start searching for another fish in the sea.
It was utter crap. And he was surprised they bought it.
In reality, he was dying. This was his first real heartbreak; nothing else he had ever felt before could compare to this feeling. He felt like he couldn't breathe, that something was suffocating him, and no matter how hard he fought, he couldn't stop it.
4.
It's not like he wasn't trying. The day after "It" happened, he took all of the things that reminded him of her – her sweater, her pictures, the stuffed raccoon he had won for her at the state fair that they shared custody of – and moved it into a box, which he then placed in his backyard, intent on burning it all. After an hour of him lighting matches and then putting them out right before they touched the first item, he brought the box back inside, convincing himself that it was too soon and that he would get to it in two weeks time, when he was sure to be fine again.
Two weeks later, and the items were moved out of the box and placed all around his room – her sweater draped over his recording studio chair, her pictures framed and placed on the wall, and the stuffed raccoon resting in the center of his bed.
He had never fallen so hard.
5.
He promised himself he wouldn't cry, that he was a man now, and men didn't cry. Nick Lucas didn't break promises.
But five minutes later, he broke that one.
And Nick Lucas promised himself he would stop making promises that he couldn't keep.
6.
It didn't help that she would still come around their house every so often.
It's not like he could stop it; she was, after all, friends with his brothers. And she had told him that she wanted to remain friends, and he had told her he would love nothing better. (She didn't see that his fingers were crossed behind his back.)
So he plastered a smile on his face, he laughed when it was appropriate to laugh. He acted irritated when he was expected to act irritated, and when she spoke to him, he answered politely and in the way that people who were just friends talked.
But each time he looked at her, or she looked at him, the breath was knocked out of his body and he had to look away quickly before he completely lost it.
7.
One time he sat down at his desk and told himself he would write a song, to unleash his hurt in the healthy way that he had been ignoring for so long.
It took all afternoon.
And by the time he was called down to dinner, the paper in front of him was still blank.
8.
One day she asked him how he was doing. He replied that he was fine.
She had given him a skeptical look, and he laughed flippantly, saying, "Really, don't worry." When she remained unconvinced, he added, "Seriously. I've never felt more inspired in my songwriting." And he had winked, knowing full well he was lying, and she had smiled and the conversation had been over.
As soon as she left the firehouse, he ran into his room and screamed and sobbed into his pillow, pounding his fists against his bed sheets, trying in vain to stop that overwhelming feeling of pain from suffocating him, and failing miserably.
9.
When he saw her walking next to the captain of the lacrosse team one day, he couldn't breathe from his jealousy. And when he saw her smiling at him and touching his arm in the way that she touches his – the way that she used to touch his, he reminds himself – he turns around and sprints back home, glad that it was empty and no one would hear his pathetic cries of heartache.
10.
When his family came home and noticed the dent in the wall, Nick had shrugged it off and smiled an apologetic smile, claiming that he was rocking out a little too hard on his guitar.
Behind his back, he was holding an ice pack to his red, bruised knuckles.
11.
He didn't like this, this power that she seemed to have over him, even when they no longer belonged to each other. He didn't like feeling helpless, he didn't like hurting, he didn't like crying. He didn't like how volatile he had become, exploding into a mess of despair when he was alone and covering it up with a smile when he wasn't.
He didn't like suffocating like he had been for the past few weeks.
Unfortunately, he didn't know how to stop it.
12.
He still had not written a song in weeks, and his family was starting to get worried.
He told them he was working on a song, and not to worry, he was just having a hard time trying to figure out how to word the lyrics. (His fingers were crossed behind his back then, too.) He was not particularly worried about writing a song. Truthfully, he was not worried about anything anymore; he didn't care about anything anymore.
But one day he woke up with hope, determined to finish a song before he fell asleep, repeating to himself over and over again that she was just a girl and that he was Nick Lucas of JONAS, that he was a strong individual and that she would not get the best of him.
He sat down at his desk and pulled out a paper and pencil and thought about the ache in his chest, focusing on that suffocating feeling, and trying to put his resentment at her for making him this way into words.
13.
Late afternoon, the paper was still empty.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't write about how much he hated her for doing this to him, for making him into this pile of angst. He couldn't be angry at her.
He loved her too much.
And no matter what she did to him, he couldn't hate her. He loved her more than anyone else in the world – she hurt him continuously, but he would continue to let her do it to him, because he loved her. He still wanted to marry her, he still wanted to have babies with her. And he didn't care if there was someone out there who was better, someone out there who would treat him right.
That someone was not Macy Misa, and she will never compare to Macy Misa, because Macy Misa had his heart.
He caught a whiff of the smell of food coming up from the staircase, and a few seconds later his mother was calling him down for dinner.
He didn't move.
After a moment, Nick scribbled four words onto the paper: All hail the heartbreaker.
He read it, and reread it, and reread it again, showing no emotion.
He called down from the top of the staircase to say that he wasn't hungry, and curled up under his blanket, drifting to sleep, where he could dream about the girl he wanted and the future he hoped for that would never come true.
Uhm, yeah. Sorry for the angst. Heartache does that to you.