heeeyyy everybody. you guys would probably want to kill me by now for not updating over weeks and everything... more of you have messaged me personally, and i'm really sorry for updating so late. but please be reminded that i too have a life outside fanfiction, and still am trying to survive school as of currently. still, i'm so glad that many of you have still stuck around on this journey with me, and i would like to remind you all again that this fic will never be forgotten. i am determined to finish this more than anything, because this fic has been a milestone for me, a rollercoaster on my writing and love for it and especially because i have you guys. :)
also, i'm glad to announce this: i'm going to post a pretty long one-shot this week, and i've been trying to finish it for months now. and finally, i did. and i dedicate it to you guys, for being amazing. it will be entitled as 'The Melancholy of a Rockstar Rookie', Jelsa of course, and will have a part two if this little one-shot of mine gets positive feedback. i hope you guys keep your eyes peeled for it because i'm just excited about it! :D (you can check my account occasionally within the week if you want, but if you follow me, you'll know instantly when i've posted it. :))
now, i hope you enjoy your read!
Chapter 14: The Runaways
The silence was deafening.
So did the lack of movement in the vehicle, except for the little squeaks the stirring wheel did when Jack seizes it to turn and the guilt hanging heavily in the air made it hard for him to breathe.
They've passed over hundreds of signs, a few wild animals jumping out of nowhere in an endless road in the dark filled with eerie scattered trees he's not sure where it leads to. He's just following the North Star, because it reminds him of his father. North. It's funny how it always seems to lead him to the right places, like the time he got lost when his father brought him shopping and forgot to drag him into the truck, he found his way home tracking the North Star, the one shinning brightest among all. And from that small incident, his father came up with a rad belief: "Follow the North Star when you're lost, it will always lead you home."
But he's running away from home.
Finding a new one, maybe.
So he follows it instinctively. Like a lost child told what he is to do when in the midst of panic.
Jack does a sideways glance to the person next to him, the person who's the world to him, the person who's world he just completely and utterly destroyed.
Usually, when he'd load Elsa into his scraped car after school, he'd be blasting the latest trendy music up on the charts with Elsa usually barking at him to turn the music down. She'd read a book or listen to her own MP3, eyes deeply locked outside the view passing out the window, her fingers idly tracing up and down the car doors, a thin line holding her expression. He would watch her like this, when traffic catches upon them, red light ahead of them or when he'd be able to slow down their phase without her even noticing that he's been drinking up her beauty all the while. He'd drum his fingers on the stirring wheel, buckle his seatbelt instinctively, wince when the sun hits his face, but never waver to look back at the blonde who held his heart at shotgun.
But this time, it wasn't the same.
She looks out the window behind its fogged frame, head lolled, eyes empty. It's like all hell had let loose inside of her, the tendrils of her hair escaping from her braid, make-up faded, lips worn, emotionless. He's not even sure if she's okay, if she's sad, mad, or if she even feels anything right now. She's so blank he's worried he broke her. Broke her heart, soul, trust—them.
His hand trembles to meet hers, the one twisted in her lap, but she pulls away to the brush of his fingertips.
"Elsa," his voice breaks as he finally speaks, almost a plea, before trying to choke and clear his throat of the lump that had formed in his throat with the size of a golf ball for the past hour. He slows the car down to keep his locked eyes on her, balancing it all between them. Despite wearing a thin linen cloth instead of his thief suit, it was getting harder and harder to breathe by the minute.
She doesn't budge.
He sees the slightest knit of her eyebrows, her torn dress twisted on her lap.
"Elsa, I know you're mad but it was for the best it's just that—"
"The best?!" she finally turns back to meet his gaze. He freezes at the sight of her like this. A moment, blank, barely human, and the next, she's bursting in a hundred feelings of morose anger and he knows he is about to get drowned in her wrath. And he is willing to.
"Are you seriously telling me this is for the best?!" her eyes pierce him with daggers, it finds his soul and stabs him through and through. There is a hint of sarcasm in her voice. Her breath is breathy and she takes a moment, looks away, and sees that there are tears stinging the back of her eyes and she tries to stop them from pouring out, trying to stop herself from looking so vulnerable and helpless. But he knows she is. "Jack, you just separated me from my sister. My sister," the words suddenly tangle up on their way out, and she has to cover her mouth the tears choking her and strangling her in all the places she never knew. Her shoulders tremble, her lips twitch, barely feels her knees and she feels the strong pang and urge to just lash out on him on all the pain she's been bottling up for the past hour.
"I don't know why I was dumb enough to come with you, or why I let Hiccup take care of them just like that in his stupid Squirrel suit but I was just—"
"Flight suit," he holds a finger up, but drops once she flashes him a malevolent glare. He hangs his head guiltily.
"I don't care what's its called," she spat. "I don't even know what inhumane alienated force made me come with you, and you know what? How dare you Jack. How dare you."
The view of an inn comes to light, its neon lights barely flicking in the dark. He shuts his lips to a grim line, pulling the car over in front of the small rest house.
Elsa slammed her fists on the window, making him wince before saying, "I could've saved her, Jack. She needed me, and I didn't. All because you took her away from me," she trembled again, before letting the car's door fly open and she steps out into the open. Trying to ground her self, trying to breathe in the musky scent of the earth and heads out to the inn.
Jack hastily killed the engine before breaking into a jog after her.
"Elsa!" he yelled.
She doesn't look back.
"Elsa!" he tries again.
She's reached the steps to the wooden house, the wood barely keeping together and it creaks under her weight in every step she takes.
"Elsa!" suddenly, his voice is demanding, and he makes a grab for her wrist, jerking her to face him.
"Elsa," he says her name, a little calmer now. But rage has filled his eyes, wanting to make her understand. She's usually so calm, but now, all hell breaks loose inside of him and he fires back at her. "Don't you understand?! It was mayhem back there, I couldn't let you go out on your own. And what the hell could you have even done out there? You were scared, I know you were. But I was scared too, Elsa. I left Emma back home, too. And I'm scared. Oh my god, I'm scared."
She bit her lip as she looked back at him, the light faint from the house within and her body casts a silhouette over him.
"But the thing is is that—" he drew in a breath. "I don't want to lose you, Elsa. Not again. Not ever."
He has said countless cheesy lines to her, and she would laugh it off. Sometimes it would make everything better. But not this time.
Gravely, she shook her head. She trembled against his advances on her wrist, and he barely notices that he's dug his short fingernails into the cream of her skin. But she's too broken on the inside to care, and slowly, agonizingly slowly, she shakes her head, and slowly pulls her self away from his touch, other hand circling idly on the dents his left on her wrist.
"I'm not yours to lose, Jack," she said, clamping a hand to her mouth before slowly turning on her heel and running off inside the sanctuary they have found in the midst of hell.
He gapes at her, dumbfounded.
The full significance of what she said hits him in the chest with a full blow, an explosion, his eyes wide, jaw slacked, barely breathing, heart pummeling against his ribs. He felt like he was being strangled, pushed off a cliff, and was left to die as he slowly sinks in a sea of misery.
His breath is jagged, and he reminds himself to breathe. He wanted to dig his hands into his scalp and scream, but willed himself not to. He held back, held back all the explosion of feelings he had inside. Finally, he willed himself to move his legs up the stairs and in the short resting house in the middle of nowhere.
He was greeted by a stout woman, which seemed like the perfect epitome of kindness, with her eyebrows creased up at him with worry because of his wary look. He must've looked sick, like a zombie devoured out of life. Still, he couldn't bring himself to look at her or his own face on the mirror at the corner of the counter, and he kindly asks for a room to stay the night, guessing she has too.
Bestowed the key, he forces himself to ask where she was, finally.
"Room 20, right across yours, dear," she gave him a faint smile, but he couldn't even stir himself to return it.
Barely walking across the dark hall as he dragged his legs, exhaustion burdens him over his shoulders, and he wanted nothing more than to disappear into deep sleep and dream about ponies and rainbows and all the good stuff.
Reaching his assigned room, he briefly stands there to look across his neighbor. She locked the door.
He dares drag a fist to knock, but is instantly stopped with the sounds eliciting from her room. It's barely audible, but it scares him. He immediately ran inside his room in cowardice.
Jack collapsed on the sleek mattress on the flat of his stomach, torn with all the thoughts and uncalled for events in one night. How it tore them apart so easily, how weak he felt, how worried he was about her, and it hits him again with another blow of realization without even given the time to recover from the last episode of his downfall.
He squeezes his eyes shut, wishing the walls weren't so thin so he wouldn't have to bare to hear her cries and sobs over the room as he tried a pathetic attempt to sleep.
But her last words ring inside his head, blood pounding in his ears.
I'm not yours to lose, Jack.
And there, the tears come to flood his own eyes, too.
hopefully i'll be consistent in updating now. but i can't make promises, but i will try. pretty short, i know and this really wasn't my best, but i hope you liked it. favorites, follows and reviews are most appreciated. :)
until next time, bros! *fist bumps you*