Sequel/Series: 4/4
Summary: Reflection and junk food…E/J slash
Rating: T
Warnings: Slash. If you don't like it…how the hell did you make it to chapter 4?
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Disney owns everything. I solemnly swear I have never seen a BtVS episode called Becoming.
Much love to Wicked Wonder for being beta-licious, and for generally propping up my ego.
Chapter 4: Beside
Jack:
There are moments in life that change things. The most insignificant acts can cause the most incredible differences – that slight delay in the morning when you fumble with your keys in the lock could be the two seconds that keep you from walking in front of a bus, or that put you in line at the right time for a winning lottery ticket, or that have you bumping into the love of your life on a street corner like in some corny movie. Or they could be the two seconds that see you splattered on the sidewalk, or walking right by the person you're meant to be with without even seeing them. You never know when tiny moments like that are going to come along, and you could wonder forever about what might have been and never get anywhere.
Looking back on last night, though, it's obvious which moment defined things – Rachel offering to go pick up dinner. That was the insignificant act that left Eric and me alone in the apartment, and caused everything that happened afterwards. And no matter how pointless it is, you have to wonder – what if?
What if Eric had gotten home a few minutes later, or had gone to get food, and Rachel and I had been the ones left alone? What if she had been the one who comforted me, the one I kissed? What if I had ended up with her, and never known what could have happened with Eric? Maybe I'd be happy. Maybe I'd have kept on going, ignorant of what I felt inside and of how he felt for me, and been completely oblivious to what I was missing out on.
But that's not how things happened. Whether some higher power or pure chance decided it, I ended up kissing Eric, and that led to the next turning point, one which I had just a little more awareness of at the time. Because sometimes the moments aren't subtle. Some moments are smack-you-in-the-face obvious, and all you can do is sit tight and hope they work out for the best.
"I think I'm in love with you."
In one way, it's nothing. It's seven-and-a-half little words, with a vague disclaimer in front of them, suggesting that I might feel something. In another way, it's everything – our entire future, as friends or otherwise, rested on how Eric responded to this. And for a few seconds, he said nothing. He looked at me, his face a mixture of confusion and disbelief, and I could feel my heart sink. Rachel was wrong. He didn't feel anything for me, the kiss had been nothing more than pity and this was going to be the biggest mistake I had ever made in my life. Sitting in our tiny room, feeling like the walls were closing in on me, it took everything I had in me to choke it out, and now I felt… lost is the only way to describe it.
And then he kissed me again, and told me he loved me too, and everything made sense. And that's how, what feels like a very long time later, he's lying beside me on my bed, still kissing me. The difference between kissing a girl and kissing a guy is… a little weird, but nice at the same time. Everything feels rougher, from the slight traces of stubble around his lips to the feel of his hand pressed against my waist. I've never done anything like this before, but somehow being with Eric feels more… natural, I guess, than being with girls ever did. Not that being with girls isn't great and all – I've never had any complaints in the past, or gotten any in return – but somehow it's always felt like something was kinda missing. Whatever that something was, I think I might have found it.
But everything ends eventually. Eric is the one to break it off, pulling back far enough to be able to look me in the eye, but still close enough that the tip of his nose is touching mine.
"Jack? I cab feeb by libs." But there's a smile on his face, one that widens as I give him a light punch on the shoulder.
"Goof," I whisper. But he's right – I need a break from making out before my lips fall off. I could also do with something to eat – Rachel took dinner with her when she hightailed it outta here. I guess she was hoping to bribe Angela into letting her in. Maybe pizza – Roma's is the nearest takeout place of any kind that delivers, so nine times out of ten it's our first stop.
"Hey, are you -?"
"Starving," he says, cutting me off mid-flow, then rolling off the bed and heading for the door. "I'll go order a pizza." At times, it's like we share a brain. It's a little scary to think that I'm on the same wavelength as Eric (who, by his own admission, is a few fries short of a Happy Meal), but I've adjusted to it in the last 18 months.
From the first time I met him there was a connection. All it took was a 2-minute interview and both of us shouting "Blue!" for me to offer him a room – alright, it may seem small, but something about him made me instinctively like him enough to know that I wanted to live with him. I don't think it was anything advanced as attraction back then – I genuinely never even thought about him like that before tonight. I mean, sure, I thought he was good-looking, and yeah, we were pretty close, but that was as far as it went.
But then tonight, sitting on that couch just inches away from him, something inside took over and I kissed him. I don't understand it, I sure as hell can't explain it, but I'm glad it happened, because it's made me realize what I should have seen before – that Eric's the one. He's sweet, he's funny, he's smart (in his own way), he's undeniably cute… he's perfect. And even though I already knew I loved him as a friend, it's in that moment, lying on the bed listening to the sound of his voice drifting in from the kitchen, that I realise that there's no "might" about it, no vague disclaimer needed. I'm in love with Eric.
I pick myself up off the bed and slowly walk out of the room and down to the lower half of the apartment, where he's just finishing on the phone.
"Un-huh…that's right…20 minutes? Cool, thanks a lot!" He turns around to me, but before he can say anything I pull him into a kiss. Drawing back a few seconds later, when I'm sure both of his full attention and his momentary silence (both very rare for him), I say it.
"I love you."
It's not the first time in our friendship that I've said those words to him. It's not even the first time tonight that I've said something along those lines. But this one is different, and we both know it.
An insanely happy grin splits his face, and even as I watch him sleep now it doesn't seem to have faded. We're curled up together on the couch where we crashed out somewhere around 2 A.M., empty pizza box and beer bottles spread in front of us, and the morning light is streaming through the French window. In a while I'm going to have to wake him up and get to class, but for now, I'm content to just hold him beside me and enjoy the moment.
If someone had told me 24 hours ago that this is where I'd be right now, I'd have had them committed. But life takes you to weird places, with tiny moments and decisions affecting the course of everything, and we don't always know where we're going to end up. I'm not too sure how I got here, but right now, here suits me just fine.
A/N: The good news is, this mini-series is finished ("…and there was much rejoicing"). The bad news is, I've already got plans for the next one. Any offers of money, souls or first-born children to make it stop can be sent via the review button.