The Opposite of Love
Jack!Fic Advent Calendar
24_days_of_jack - December 18th
Title: The Opposite of Love
Characters: Jack
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: foxys40 #34, Hate
Spoilers: Flashbacks through 3x01 “A Tale of Two Cities”
Disclaimer: Not Mine!
He wants to hate her. He should hate her.
He watches her walk away with him, whoever he is, and Jack wishes he could hate her as much as he hates her lover, but he can’t.
He can’t.
It just matters who you’re not.
Her words ring in his ears. No matter what, he could never make her happy. He wasn’t what she wanted. Yet it wouldn’t matter if he tried to change, if he tried to win her back.
It wasn’t an option.
He had used up all his chances before he even knew he needed them.
She hates him.
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. She loved him once and now she despises him with equal fervor.
She still cares, or else she wouldn’t have come down to bail him out. But those feelings aren’t warm; they’re cold. She doesn’t want him around her, isn’t willing to work on things, because those feelings are strong. Anger. He upset her because she desperately wants not be to upset anymore. She doesn’t want to think about him, doesn’t want to worry for him. She checked out of all that. No more.
He watches her get into his car and they drive away. And then he stares at nothing, just the empty space where she used to be.
He can’t hate her. But he can’t love her anymore either.
That night he goes home to his empty apartment and opens his sock drawer, takes a deep breath, and pulls his ring off of his finger. It hits the wooden bottom with a metallic rattle.
Then he signs the divorce papers and sets them in the center of his bare counter underneath the cold overhead light, like an ancient artifact from some place or someone long dead and gone. It’s the only thing in his entire kitchen besides the boxes that he has yet to unpack.
The opposite of love is indifference.
He goes into his living room, takes a seat on the wooden floor, and picks up the fourth bottle of scotch he’s started since the night she left him.
Indifference. For someone who is sick of caring, it sounds appealing.
Popping the cork, he takes a swig and decides to give indifference a try.
Tomorrow.
Tonight he’ll stare at his bare finger, sit in his bare apartment, and love and hate her until the bottle is empty too.
24_days_of_jack - December 18th
Title: The Opposite of Love
Characters: Jack
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: foxys40 #34, Hate
Spoilers: Flashbacks through 3x01 “A Tale of Two Cities”
Disclaimer: Not Mine!
He wants to hate her. He should hate her.
He watches her walk away with him, whoever he is, and Jack wishes he could hate her as much as he hates her lover, but he can’t.
He can’t.
It just matters who you’re not.
Her words ring in his ears. No matter what, he could never make her happy. He wasn’t what she wanted. Yet it wouldn’t matter if he tried to change, if he tried to win her back.
It wasn’t an option.
He had used up all his chances before he even knew he needed them.
She hates him.
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. She loved him once and now she despises him with equal fervor.
She still cares, or else she wouldn’t have come down to bail him out. But those feelings aren’t warm; they’re cold. She doesn’t want him around her, isn’t willing to work on things, because those feelings are strong. Anger. He upset her because she desperately wants not be to upset anymore. She doesn’t want to think about him, doesn’t want to worry for him. She checked out of all that. No more.
He watches her get into his car and they drive away. And then he stares at nothing, just the empty space where she used to be.
He can’t hate her. But he can’t love her anymore either.
That night he goes home to his empty apartment and opens his sock drawer, takes a deep breath, and pulls his ring off of his finger. It hits the wooden bottom with a metallic rattle.
Then he signs the divorce papers and sets them in the center of his bare counter underneath the cold overhead light, like an ancient artifact from some place or someone long dead and gone. It’s the only thing in his entire kitchen besides the boxes that he has yet to unpack.
The opposite of love is indifference.
He goes into his living room, takes a seat on the wooden floor, and picks up the fourth bottle of scotch he’s started since the night she left him.
Indifference. For someone who is sick of caring, it sounds appealing.
Popping the cork, he takes a swig and decides to give indifference a try.
Tomorrow.
Tonight he’ll stare at his bare finger, sit in his bare apartment, and love and hate her until the bottle is empty too.