Status: thank you for everything you've done to interact with this fic.
We Still Live in the Same Town, Well Don't We?
Epilogue
We still live in the same town, well don’t we? But I don’t see your face anymore.
There are a lot of words that should exist but don’t, and words that shouldn’t exist but do, like rape and break and hate and regret. But I’ve used them all, felt them all, and needed more.
The day I left the band, All Time Low broke up. I promise we’ll stay in touch, we said, lying through our teeth although we didn’t know it at the time. I need a word. We all moved back to Maryland, wouldn’t you know it, but we fanned out. I ended up in Baltimore, everyone else lived in some godforsaken suburbs. It’s okay here, it could be worse.
I gave up what I loved most in the world for something that doesn’t even make me happy. I’ve loved being in All Time Low more than the world, but I had to leave the band for personal reasons. Hustlers are amazing. Send tweet. Do I get to be an aging rock star now? I haven’t touched my guitar in months, my fingers are losing their callouses. I’m a secretary, for christ’s sake, at a firm I’m not quite sure what does. I would give anything to be back on stage.
When I lost Alex, he meant everything to me. He did not share the same feelings. “What about the band, Jack? You didn’t go to college, what are you going to do with your worthless life? Who’s going to love you now, skank? Who’s going to care about you like I did? Who is your faggot ass going to love? Nobody will ever believe you Jack. Nobody cares.” You’ve got to be a spectacular fuck up to lose your best friend, all your friends by extension really, and the guy you thought could be the love of your life all at once. I haven’t made any new friends in the eight fucking years since we broke up, since the band broke up. I’m lonely.
I gave my ex-boyfriend, ex-bandmate, ex-best-friend, a dry handjob in a bathroom stall at a church on his wedding day. There wasn’t a single word between us that day. Not even a sound. He walked into the bathroom just after I did, pushed me into the second stall on the right, and the click-lock of the door behind us echoed in the silence. He leaned up against the wall, he didn’t wear skinny jeans anymore. His slacks slid down his legs as soon as his belt buckle was undone, he was thinner than the last time we’d met. He took my hand and wrapped it around his cock, and I moved it up and down, emotionless. I wasn’t thinking, I never thought, I just did. And he came just like before, nothing had changed. He got his pants on and left. The room smelled like paint. I washed my hands and didn’t stay for the reception.
There are a lot of words that should exist but don’t, and words that shouldn’t exist but do, like rape and break and hate and regret. But I’ve used them all, felt them all, and needed more.
The day I left the band, All Time Low broke up. I promise we’ll stay in touch, we said, lying through our teeth although we didn’t know it at the time. I need a word. We all moved back to Maryland, wouldn’t you know it, but we fanned out. I ended up in Baltimore, everyone else lived in some godforsaken suburbs. It’s okay here, it could be worse.
I gave up what I loved most in the world for something that doesn’t even make me happy. I’ve loved being in All Time Low more than the world, but I had to leave the band for personal reasons. Hustlers are amazing. Send tweet. Do I get to be an aging rock star now? I haven’t touched my guitar in months, my fingers are losing their callouses. I’m a secretary, for christ’s sake, at a firm I’m not quite sure what does. I would give anything to be back on stage.
When I lost Alex, he meant everything to me. He did not share the same feelings. “What about the band, Jack? You didn’t go to college, what are you going to do with your worthless life? Who’s going to love you now, skank? Who’s going to care about you like I did? Who is your faggot ass going to love? Nobody will ever believe you Jack. Nobody cares.” You’ve got to be a spectacular fuck up to lose your best friend, all your friends by extension really, and the guy you thought could be the love of your life all at once. I haven’t made any new friends in the eight fucking years since we broke up, since the band broke up. I’m lonely.
I gave my ex-boyfriend, ex-bandmate, ex-best-friend, a dry handjob in a bathroom stall at a church on his wedding day. There wasn’t a single word between us that day. Not even a sound. He walked into the bathroom just after I did, pushed me into the second stall on the right, and the click-lock of the door behind us echoed in the silence. He leaned up against the wall, he didn’t wear skinny jeans anymore. His slacks slid down his legs as soon as his belt buckle was undone, he was thinner than the last time we’d met. He took my hand and wrapped it around his cock, and I moved it up and down, emotionless. I wasn’t thinking, I never thought, I just did. And he came just like before, nothing had changed. He got his pants on and left. The room smelled like paint. I washed my hands and didn’t stay for the reception.
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i've known i would do the wedding handjob bit since the second chapter. thank you to all of the amazing people who commented or recommended this fic, ♥MCRmyisnotokay, MasqueradingMemories, Rememberingsundae, Gaskarthloveme, pshhitshannah, JalexIsMyLife, leeyahbvb97, cdancer899, msterrys, f0reverbr0ken, teavalos511, BeMyEverAfter, Hold.On.Till.May, Of-Mice-And-BVB, JalexIsMyEverything, DannyWor, toby., jalex_barakarth3012, notabletoconnect, AkiPanda413, Iceyythepenguin, deeg83, ForeverCursed, and PoppySalvatoreOzera.