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Jean’s celebratory mood has dissipated, aware that his birthday had passed and his alcohol intake passed the limit. Maybe he was getting too old for clubs and these kinds of parties. The strobe lights continued to flash, the heavy-bass music blasted went on while a headache started to dawn on Jean. He told Marco that he’ll step out for a bit, but entrusted his friend with his credit card. Marco was kind enough (or drunk enough) to let him go easily despite the obvious lie, and also bid him not to do anything reckless. Jean left the table of whining friends, telling another lie that he’d found someone to hook up with.
Jean staggered with his feet on his way out, wondering what the definition of reckless was. Was it driving under the influence? Or texting one’s ex? Marco was definitely pertaining to the latter.
It was a little over two am, which meant that there’s no public transport anymore. Jean really wanted to go home. He could have called a taxi driver but he pretended to make a safer choice.
The throbbing headache encouraged Jean into playing mind games, he scrolled through his contacts trying to find someone reliable. When he failed, he tried to test if the random numbers he could dial were not so random at all. Jean closed his eyes, listened to the call ring for a good minute. Then it went through.
He squinted at the phone screen, relieved and panicked. “Sasha? Sorry, I, uhh, was just curious if I can get it right. You know, because we memorized each other’s number. In case of emergencies? I guess yours is still the same. And, uhh, because I’m a little lost. Maybe.” Jean embraced his incoherence with no shame.
“What do you want, Jean?” Sasha’s annoyance was audible, and she didn’t sound like she just woke up. In all honesty, Jean wasn’t expecting a reply. He was surprised to hear her voice or he could be really intoxicated that he’s just hearing things. It’s been months since they broke up. Seven months, three days, and counting. His silence must’ve took seconds which forced Sasha to speak again, “Look, I know this is a mistake so can we-”
“Can you pick me up?” Jean doesn't want to think of this as a mistake, he actually believed it was fate. He remembered he used to drive Sasha everywhere, anywhere and maybe he’s doing this out of spite, revenge? In this situation, Jean wished Sasha would return the favor.
“What makes you think I want to see you?”
Much like the weather, the words blew a cold breeze. Jean felt absurd, then carded his fingers through his hair. Sasha has a valid point; what right did he have to be this selfish just because he wanted to see her? Then again, she would’ve ignored the call when it took a couple of rings but the fact is clear: she still picked up. Jean endured his dry throat.
“I don’t know. I want to see you, though. Just this once. Please?” It didn’t matter to him if begged at this point.
Luckily, the magic word worked. Sasha asked for his current location and told him to wait. Like a happy puppy, Jean patiently waited outside the bar.
~
Sasha thoughtlessly tapped her finger on the steering wheel while waiting for the stop light. She wasn’t in a rush, she was extremely nervous. Jean never drunk called her so what made him break the silence between them after all these months? Was he really just curious? Was Sasha just curious to see him too?
Sasha was doing fine with being alone like what she wanted. Some nights are an exception though. She accepted the invitation with little hope that her vulnerability would do her any good. At least one of them is drunk and that’s such a perfect excuse to forget whatever can happen tonight.
The district wasn’t too crowded anymore, which allowed Sasha’s car to roam slowly. She found Jean seated on a curb and caught him nodding off. She made her way in front of him and rolled the window down to call him in. When Jean recognized Sasha, his face showed confusion like he wasn’t the one who asked to be picked up.
“Get in or I’m leaving.” Sasha warned. Jean immediately responded, while she watched him clumsily sit down and fasten the seatbelt.
When Jean was finally settled, he commented. “You’re wearing my sweatshirt.” It wasn’t a question. He was annoyingly confident in his statement. Sasha looked at herself in this stupid navy blue sweatshirt like it was a clown suit and she didn’t even wear this on purpose.
“You can’t claim a random sweatshirt I own.”
“I know it was mine because that was my favorite.” Jean calmly said. Sasha felt he was hinting at something and decided to meet his eyes, searching for a meaning behind that. She remembered leaving the apartment with everything she knew she owned. Jean retrieved all the clothes she borrowed but somehow this one piece still ended up in her luggage.
Sasha didn’t bother to return it. Overtime, she didn’t care who originally owned it.
Jean was the first to avert the gaze. “I’m glad you kept it.”
The car ride was quiet; no radio, no music, no talking. The quiet doesn’t mean it’s comfortable, but not to the point it was suffocating. Both of them must be anxious, it was definitely awkward. When Sasha stole a glance, Jean was still awake. Despite being a bit disheveled, the bastard was still good looking.
It really shouldn’t be a big deal. It was not normal to accept a favor from an ex yet another exception to the rule was Jean. If Sasha didn’t have self control, she could’ve let herself be consumed by the urge to crash the car because she refused to admit a feeling.
Feelings. There were two: 1) she was lonely, and 2) she missed Jean.
When Sasha tried to calm herself down by breathing in, she inhaled Jean’s scent, mixed with alcohol and some fruity vape smoke. It made her grip on the steering wheel more firm. Sasha knew Jean didn't go to clubs anymore; apparently, she doesn’t know him now.
“This is not the way to my apartment.” Jean said as Sasha turned to a narrow street. She was too focused on not crashing the car that she accidentally went straight home. “Has it been that long that you forgot the way to our apartment?”
That’s a weird way to say it. “Our” apartment. Sasha started to wonder if Jean said those things to play with her feelings. She hated that she was jumping into conclusions. She hated falling into the obvious trap. Jean was naturally a smooth talker and Sasha couldn’t help but slip. “Yeah.. no, I’m just tired.” Sasha took a glimpse of the time on the dashboard, it was almost three am.
“You’re okay with me staying at your place?”
Sasha eventually stopped the car in front of a quaint apartment. “I have a couch.”
“That’s not what I’m asking, Sasha.” Jean argued. Sasha raised an eyebrow at the serious tone, especially with her name being said like it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“It’s fine, I’m too tired to go back.”
“If you’re not really comfortable about it, you can drop me off at the nearest hotel.”
“I said it’s fine. Can’t you just…” Stay, Sasha wanted to say. “Can you stop being stubborn? You never listen.” Sasha unfastened her seatbelt in annoyance, when in reality, she’s sad. Being the ‘bitter ex’ was the last thing she wanted to sound like because she just needed Jean to stay. Her apartment had this emptiness for a while now and honestly, he won’t fill the void instantly, but this was an opportunity to reminisce about what they had before. Sasha was sad and annoyed about this.
Jean simply followed suit, all of a sudden the seat belt buckle was jammed. “Hey, I think this thing is broken?”
“Here, let me.” Sasha sighed. It’s an old car and sometimes the buckle would get jammed, but of course, it chose the worst possible moment to act up.
Sasha moved closer to Jean. His scent was stronger up close, nothing too repulsive for her liking because there was still a hint of Jean’s cologne she was familiar with and familiarity felt… pleasant. Sasha’s heartbeat picked up its pace, which was making her clumsy. Then, the quietness was getting louder and she was afraid Jean would notice her heart pounding.
She finally unfastened his seat belt when Jean’s hand moved to tuck her hair behind her ear. Sasha wore her usual ponytail, but there were still some loose strands which shaped the sides of her face so she was caught off guard. She wasn’t prepared for the next moment, either.
Jean lightly kissed her cheek.
“Thank you.”
Jean showed a sad smile. They stared at each other for a few more seconds; Sasha wasn’t sure if she was allowed to blink. Jean’s eyes went to her lips, he proceeded to cup her cheek, and met her lips with his.
They barely touched.
It was like being kissed by a ghost. Jean was exactly that: a ghost of Sasha’s past. Jean used to always give the softest, most gentle kisses, it's as if being kissed by him is always in slow motion and Sasha missed that; she could practically lean in for more. Fuck being touch-deprived.
She doesn’t.
Sasha was like spring, hopelessly fickle that one may need a coat or not at all. She really doesn’t know how to act at the moment, especially when it takes two to tango.
She was still in love with Jean, though she didn’t want to risk breaking her heart to know if she was dancing alone to the beat of love or not.
~
Jean was invited inside Sasha’s apartment. When they entered further, Sasha described the place, “There’s the couch you can sleep in, the bathroom on your right, kitchen here if you need water. My room on the left. It’s a bit messy but please don’t touch anything.” She defined messy as a few papers stacked on the center table, laptop closed, an unwashed cup on the sink… It wasn’t perfect but Jean felt at ease and jealous that Sasha was doing fine without him. Not that he wanted to see Sasha unhappy.
Jean was doing fine too, or that was what he convinced himself to be. He wasn’t as broken as when they just broke up. It did seem to ache more each day until he learned to gradually shut off those emotions.
Jean mustered up whatever liquid courage he had left, “Can we talk?”
“Good night, Jean.” Sasha walked to her room and closed the door before Jean could say anything else. He stood in defeat, but thought that he could try again later in the morning.
He then carried his heavy heart and tired body to the couch to rest when fortunately, sleep sinked in easily.
~
The sunrise started to creep in when Jean sensed a dull pain on his back because the couch didn’t comfort his tall figure that much. He probably only slept for an hour, not to mention that he was feeling chilly as well since there was no blanket provided.
Jean decided to get up and nurse his dry throat followed by a bathroom break, then he observed himself in the mirror. Sobriety was the worst when it made him realize he looked like shit this whole time. He washed his face and gargled a bit of mouthwash which made him notice the single toothbrush in its holder. It was basically a confirmation that Sasha don’t have anyone else right now which made Jean smile stupidly.
It was too early to leave, even rude to leave without saying thank you, though it was also uncomfortable for Jean to go back to sleep on the couch. He glanced at Sasha’s closed door and thought he could make an attempt to talk or at least ask for some kindness for his back.
After knocking lightly, Jean slowly entered Sasha’s room. He nudged her soundly sleeping figure, then whispered. “Hey…” Oh, it was impossible to look this beautiful while asleep yet here is Sasha who looked like an angel, and Jean wanted to call her ‘baby’ so badly like how he used to, to wake her up. “Sasha, can I sleep here for just another hour? It’s really cold out there.”
Sasha peeked and made a room for Jean without any protest, provided with one condition. “Just face the other way.”
Jean was welcomed in bed, it was unavoidable to not feel nervous, but he was also glad that Sasha was considerate to him. There’s no point in going back to sleep especially because he wanted to fix this.
Jean wanted to know how it felt like falling in love with Sasha again, except he can’t because he has always been in love with her. He never really stopped, even during the time they were apart. All the sleep, alcohol, whatever activity he did to forget her only erased the bitter memories, and like a simple rock polished to shine again, he was left with the memory of how warm it was to be loved by Sasha.
Loving Sasha was also like an ocean wave Jean didn’t mind getting drowned in.
Jean could tell Sasha all his stupid jokes, or anything to hear her laugh again. He could take her to the fanciest restaurant, or just another fast food chain, or he could try cooking again, only to see her eyes comically sparkle because the food was delicious. And when life is tough for her, he wanted to treat her better than before.
“Is work stressful?” Jean started, as if he threw a pebble in the calm river, making ripples in Sasha’s life again.
“Don’t ask if you’re just making conversation.”
“I just want to know how you are.”
“It’s not your business anymore.”
“Can we try again?”
That didn’t elicit another reply from Sasha and Jean held onto the shared duvet with his life. It was the gut-punching truth and reminder that they are over. They are nothing more than strangers with a shared past.
The pain rushed back, from the moment Sasha left the door until the days and nights Jean kept replaying the same moment, all at the same time. If he were to walk out today with the same shattered pieces of his heart, then it won’t ever be whole again.
“I miss you.” Jean said, almost choking. “Every day. I’m sober, but I… I know I’m happier with you. Although my best in making you happy wasn’t enough, I’ll try harder. And, I know you said you needed time alone to sort your own life but I’m sorry, I should’ve sorted it out with you. We should’ve made it work together. I’m sorry for disappointing you, I should’ve been there when you needed me most. I still regret letting you walk out of my life and I might be asking too much right now, but is it really impossible to take me back?”
Jean watched the sunrise touch the walls, and he could only hear his heavy breathing from clawing his emotions out. “It doesn’t have to be now… just… will you tell me if we can try again?” Despite pouring his heart out, he didn’t have the courage to face Sasha and continued to stare at the walls.
Then, Sasha’s arm embraced him from behind paired with a soft kiss on his shoulder. She found his clenched fist under the covers and slowly opened them to hold with hers.
“I’m sorry, too, for breaking your heart.”
Jean kissed the back off Sasha’s palm. “I gave my heart to you, it was yours. I don’t mind, as long as it didn’t hurt you as much as it hurt me.”
“I don’t deserve your love, Jean.”
Sasha’s voice was laced with insecurity and Jean wished he could take it all away in an instant.
“You deserve it. Whatever love I gave you, it was yours to keep. And you can keep receiving it.”
~
Sasha was still trying her best to hold her tears; she had no idea that Jean would jump the cliff. She thought this must be a dream and that he must still be drunk but when she held him, he was real with her hand on top of his beating heart.
Sentences were hard to form in Sasha’s brain when there’s a ton of serotonin flooding in, her heart practically bursting too.
“So? Can we try? I can start by cooking for you as an apology for disturbing you last night.” Jean’s voice was still trembling.
“It’s best if you leave first…”
This caused Jean to let go of her hand and finally face her, his aching eyes stared at her, while tears were threatening to spill as well. “Sasha.” He held her hands firmly.
Sasha cracks a small smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” This time, Sasha buried herself in Jean’s chest, cradled in his arms. It felt so good to be held. It felt like coming home.
“Let’s try again. You can apologize by taking me out to dinner. Tonight. Like a date.” Sasha whispered to Jean’s pulse. She sensed him relaxing, hearing him exhale out loud. “Jean?”
“Yeah? Yeah.. a date. Got it.”
“Belated happy birthday.”
Sasha received a kiss on her forehead, Jean whispered back. “Thank you.”