Boxing Day
Title: Boxing Day
Author: Laura, aka umbrellabeach55
Point of View: First Person (Jack)
Pairing: Zack Merrick/Jack Barakat
Summary: Every year I look for you.
Disclaimer: Title credit and inspiration for the fic goes to the Blink-182 song 'Boxing Day'.
Every year I look for you.
Christmas is joyous and festive, and then I wake up the next day crippled with both a post-holiday depression, and an icy ache for you.
It’s been 4 years since you’ve left me on this day, this very 26th of December. 4 years since we’ve shared the same bed and loved the same people. 4 years since I have felt warm, 4 years that I have slowly been losing memories of happiness.
I refuse to lose them. I hold on tight to those moments of love, but it’s not enough. I need to see you again, to find out why. Why you left. Why you never came back. Why you never gave me a reason.
So I look for you.
I dress in my warmest clothes, and step out into the oh-so-familiar chilly morning air. I search every street and neighborhood; look in every café window and shop. I scan the sea of faces passing me, hoping. New York City is a big place- but I still hope that someday I’ll find you.
I draw my coat closer to me, shivering slightly. It’s cold. I am numb. But this is nothing new to me, so I press on. I can’t stop now. I must keep going.
It’s late now. My steps have long slowed, and my need is the only thing that fuels me. The city steadily buzzes around me with leftover Christmas joy. Everything on this day is leftover. Including me.
Drained, I stop for a moment and contemplate entering the nearest café. I could use a nice hot something, to try to disguise the ice slowly expanding inside of me.
I glance in the window. The people sitting at the tables and lounging on the couches look happy, their faces content above their steaming mugs. I decide to go inside, but as I step toward the door my eyes catch on something.
I see you.
You are sitting by yourself in a dark green armchair, a mug on the table next to you. You’re concentrating on the book in your hand as you absentmindedly reach for your drink, slowly raising it to your mouth and taking a sip.
You look the same, yet different. Your hair is longer, curling slightly to the side. You’re dressed in a polished, sophisticated way; you always loved the style of the city. Your face is familiar as you read. Your brow is slightly furrowed, and you bite your lip just so. You look perfect, at peace.
I know I must look silly. A man immobile outside a coffee shop window, staring into the interior like something has possessed him. But I can’t help it. I don’t know what to think.
My eyes widen as you shift, crossing your legs at the ankle. Your foot begins to tap the other slowly. You cup your hand closer around your mug, fingers wrapping through the handle.
Without warning, you glance up as you turn a page.
I’m staring right into your eyes. They’re wide in surprise and disbelief. I know exactly what you’re thinking: Is it really him?
I can’t move. Your eyes are holding me down. My heart is beating at a mile a minute, threatening to burst out of my chest. A man passes in front of me, but your gaze does not waver. I open my mouth as if to speak, but I can’t. My breath forms a fog in front of me.
And then you’re moving. You’re carefully setting your mug on the side table, then throwing your book down and rushing through the cafe. You’re at the door, you’re coming through, and then you are in front of me.
I still haven’t moved as you come to a stop. You’re breathing hard as well, and your fog joins mine. The two mingle, and I watch for a moment as they cloud together and fade away.
I can tell you aren’t sure what to say to me. It’s alright; I don’t know what to say to you either. Right now just seeing you is enough. I want to drink in your flushed face forever.
You shuffle your feet, pulling your sleeves over your hands. You are suddenly shy, glancing down at the sidewalk while your mouth turns up slightly at the corner.
“Hello, Jack,” you say gently.
Your voice is breathy and soft. It releases a flood of memories. You greeting me in the morning by whispering in my ear, you confessing your love for me as we are cuddled together on the couch, you sighing my name as I run my hand down your side.
“Hello, Zack,” I respond quietly, offering you a smile.
You grin at me, hesitate for a moment, then take my hand. “Come inside, you’re freezing.”
I was. But not anymore.
Author: Laura, aka umbrellabeach55
Point of View: First Person (Jack)
Pairing: Zack Merrick/Jack Barakat
Summary: Every year I look for you.
Disclaimer: Title credit and inspiration for the fic goes to the Blink-182 song 'Boxing Day'.
Every year I look for you.
Christmas is joyous and festive, and then I wake up the next day crippled with both a post-holiday depression, and an icy ache for you.
It’s been 4 years since you’ve left me on this day, this very 26th of December. 4 years since we’ve shared the same bed and loved the same people. 4 years since I have felt warm, 4 years that I have slowly been losing memories of happiness.
I refuse to lose them. I hold on tight to those moments of love, but it’s not enough. I need to see you again, to find out why. Why you left. Why you never came back. Why you never gave me a reason.
So I look for you.
I dress in my warmest clothes, and step out into the oh-so-familiar chilly morning air. I search every street and neighborhood; look in every café window and shop. I scan the sea of faces passing me, hoping. New York City is a big place- but I still hope that someday I’ll find you.
I draw my coat closer to me, shivering slightly. It’s cold. I am numb. But this is nothing new to me, so I press on. I can’t stop now. I must keep going.
It’s late now. My steps have long slowed, and my need is the only thing that fuels me. The city steadily buzzes around me with leftover Christmas joy. Everything on this day is leftover. Including me.
Drained, I stop for a moment and contemplate entering the nearest café. I could use a nice hot something, to try to disguise the ice slowly expanding inside of me.
I glance in the window. The people sitting at the tables and lounging on the couches look happy, their faces content above their steaming mugs. I decide to go inside, but as I step toward the door my eyes catch on something.
I see you.
You are sitting by yourself in a dark green armchair, a mug on the table next to you. You’re concentrating on the book in your hand as you absentmindedly reach for your drink, slowly raising it to your mouth and taking a sip.
You look the same, yet different. Your hair is longer, curling slightly to the side. You’re dressed in a polished, sophisticated way; you always loved the style of the city. Your face is familiar as you read. Your brow is slightly furrowed, and you bite your lip just so. You look perfect, at peace.
I know I must look silly. A man immobile outside a coffee shop window, staring into the interior like something has possessed him. But I can’t help it. I don’t know what to think.
My eyes widen as you shift, crossing your legs at the ankle. Your foot begins to tap the other slowly. You cup your hand closer around your mug, fingers wrapping through the handle.
Without warning, you glance up as you turn a page.
I’m staring right into your eyes. They’re wide in surprise and disbelief. I know exactly what you’re thinking: Is it really him?
I can’t move. Your eyes are holding me down. My heart is beating at a mile a minute, threatening to burst out of my chest. A man passes in front of me, but your gaze does not waver. I open my mouth as if to speak, but I can’t. My breath forms a fog in front of me.
And then you’re moving. You’re carefully setting your mug on the side table, then throwing your book down and rushing through the cafe. You’re at the door, you’re coming through, and then you are in front of me.
I still haven’t moved as you come to a stop. You’re breathing hard as well, and your fog joins mine. The two mingle, and I watch for a moment as they cloud together and fade away.
I can tell you aren’t sure what to say to me. It’s alright; I don’t know what to say to you either. Right now just seeing you is enough. I want to drink in your flushed face forever.
You shuffle your feet, pulling your sleeves over your hands. You are suddenly shy, glancing down at the sidewalk while your mouth turns up slightly at the corner.
“Hello, Jack,” you say gently.
Your voice is breathy and soft. It releases a flood of memories. You greeting me in the morning by whispering in my ear, you confessing your love for me as we are cuddled together on the couch, you sighing my name as I run my hand down your side.
“Hello, Zack,” I respond quietly, offering you a smile.
You grin at me, hesitate for a moment, then take my hand. “Come inside, you’re freezing.”
I was. But not anymore.