Breaking J.A.C.I.E. (All Time Low Fanfiction | Jack Barakat)

Day 1: Half-life

Carrying a guitar on my back while on a hike wasn't the smartest idea I had had. It felt heavier than usual and made it harder to manoeuvre past the different obstacles in my way. But I needed this hike. Not just to breathe in the crisp air, but to untangle the knots in my heart. The guitar may have been heavy, but it was a comforting weight. It always helped me put the thoughts in my head in a row.

Each step came with a crunch of leaves. It was so silent out here. Silent in a way that felt peaceful, not in a way that made me feel lost in something that was supposed to be warming. The trees towered over me, reminding me just how vast and intimidating the world could be.

Twenty-one-year-old Jacie never had the intention of getting in a relationship. Twenty-two-year-old Jacie could never have imagined getting married. And twenty-four-year old Jacie? She couldn't have imagined that she'd be on the verge of her relationship ending just months after having a wedding. All twists had been good ones. Until now.

As I got to the top of the hill I had been climbing, I found a secluded spot. It was a rocky outcrop with breathtaking views of the valley below. Sitting on the sun-warmed boulder, I released the guitar from my back. The case laid beside me as I pulled the guitar out and cradled it like an old friend.

My fingers felt cold as I looked out at the view in front of me. Everything seemed so insignificant, but the feelings within me were still prominent. I started absentmindedly strumming a few chords and notes, trying to find a tune that would help me express my inner turmoil.

I'd felt like an unimportant ghost in Jack's life. The persistent silence that came from him made it seem like I wasn't even there at all. He just didn't hear a single sound I made. It was as if I moved through our shared space like a phantom, unnoticed and unheard. There was a void that couldn't be easily repaired.

I loved Jack. So much. But I couldn't take on the empathetic role anymore. I needed him to stop looking right through me. I existed, I was there, and I needed more than silence and half-responses. My support could only go so far.

The hours slipped away like fleeting shadows, and soon I already needed to make my way back. At least the melody coming from the guitar felt like a friend who understood when everybody else failed. The words I sang entered the emptiness in front of me, as irrelevant as any word I had uttered before.

Eventually, I gathered my thoughts and guitar, and retraced my steps back to the cabin. As much as I wished to stay outside in a chosen isolation for longer, this was one promise I could at least try to keep. The entire walk back, I tried to brace myself for the conversation that awaited.

The front door creaked open, and Jack looked up from what he was doing in the kitchen. It seemed as if the room was charged with an unspoken tension. I hesitated in the doorway, wondering if it was too late to linger outside for a while longer. But our eyes had already met.

"Hey," he said, his voice fragile yet smooth, "I was just making some coffee. Do you want some?"

I shook my head as I kicked my shoes off. While a warm drink didn't sound bad, I hadn't had a drop of coffee since I first found out I was pregnant. He knew that. Or, at least, I thought he knew that.

"I can also make hot chocolate. We even have mini marshmallows," he offered instead.

I knew what he was doing. He was testing to see how far I was going to go. I didn't want sympathy now. I was still fully prepared to leave if things came down to that again. My thoughts hadn't changed during the two hours I had gotten to myself. All that happened was that I got to cool down before I'd do something in the heat of the moment that I'd forever regret.

"Water's fine," I told him while I leaned the guitar case against the wall.

He stared at me for a second longer before turning to grab a glass from the cabinet. "Okay."

I sat down at the table, wondering what he'd come with. I wasn't the only one given two hours to think. It didn't take much longer for Jack to join me, sliding a glass of water in front of me and keeping the mug for himself. He sat down and stared at me again. I gazed right back, waiting for him to start.

"So?" I eventually broke the silence when he didn't say anything. "You're the one who wanted to talk."

"Right..." he nodded, taking a sip from his coffee.

The words continued to hang in the air like fragile glass ornaments. I was almost ready to give up again. I couldn't be the one trying to drag the words out of him. He needed to do something himself.

"I'm sorry," he finally spoke, his eyes a mixture of regret and longing.

I kept looking right back at him, not touching the drink he had given me. "Sorry doesn't fill the silence."

"I know," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I've been trying to find the words, but... I don't know... they slip away every time I reach for them."

"Really?" I leaned back in frustration. "You couldn't come up with anything in the two hours I was gone? Hell, you couldn't come up with anything in the past two months?"

Jack shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his gaze dropping to the table as if seeking refuge in its wooden surface. "It's not that I haven't thought about it. Every day, every night, it's there. I just... I don't want to say the wrong thing. I don't want to make it worse."

"Not saying anything at all is making it worse."

"I know, and I hate that I let it get to this point. I never wanted us to drift apart like this."

I noticed that he was fidgeting with my ring. He probably didn't mean for me to see, his hands were almost in his lap. Maybe he didn't even realise he was doing it himself.

"Then why did you let it happen?" I questioned, my tone a mix of hurt and anger.

"I don't know..." he sighed. "I guess I was scared and trying to protect you. You already had to go through so much."

"And how did that work out? All it did was make me feel like I was going through this nightmare by myself."

He winced, the weight of my words sinking in. "I see that now."

"I need more than apologies, Jack," I said, my voice softer but still edged with disappointment. "I need to feel like you're in this with me, not standing on the sidelines. I need you to meet me halfway."

"I want to meet you more than halfway, Jacie. I want to be there for you, and I want us to heal together. I just don't know how to break these walls down."

"Then let me help. Open up. Tell me what's going on inside that head of yours. I've been trying since I first started feeling the tiniest bit better."

"I never wanted you to feel alone, Jace. That's the last thing I ever wanted," he admitted, his vulnerability breaking through.

The sincerity in his eyes tugged at my heart. I knew he didn't set out specifically to shut me out and hurt me. This was the longest conversation we had had since the miscarriage. His uncertainties weren't followed by silence, they actually came with an attempted explanation. The pain and confusion he felt were finally getting a description.

But it still wasn't everything I needed.

"Can you at least say it out loud?" I requested, looking deep into his eyes. "You haven't even been able to say what happened."

His lips turned into a tight line as his eyes bore into me. The struggle he was feeling was visible on the outside. I could see him trying to form the words as every fibre in his body attempted to stop him. All I could do was wait and pray that he'd finally push through the wall.

"We lost our baby and it fucking destroyed me," he eventually blurted out with a big sigh at the end.

"Thank you," I whispered.

I reached out with my left hand, hoping he'd be willing to put his hand in mine. His eyes lingered on my empty ring finger and he seemed to hesitate. After a second of deliberation, he took hold of my hand and glanced at me again. It wasn't everything yet, but it was something.

"Let's try to fix this," I told him.