All of Me

“Jonathan, we need to talk.”

It wasn’t just because Tally had called him by his full name that Jonathan’s entire body went rigid, though that was what initially put icy cold fear in his veins. It wasn’t just because of the words that followed his name, either. We need to talk. Jonathan knew they needed to talk, and it had been a long time coming.

Really, it had.

And it wasn’t that Jon was scared or nervous to bring it up. He just didn’t know how to ever initiate that kind of conversation. He truly loved Taleigh-Ann Barksdale with all his heart, and he would do anything in his sphere of influence to keep her happy. Her happiness was the absolute key to his own happiness, that much was apparent to anyone who ever spent any measurable amount of time with the couple, but it went deeper than that. Jonathan wanted, more than anything, to marry her. He, Patrick, and Abby Sharp had even picked out a ring just shy of four weeks ago.

But there was something hiding behind Tallys usual chipper voice that made him begin backtracking immediately, trying desperately to think of anything he’d done wrong.
Sure, he was gone a lot of the time with hockey—but that’d never really been an issue with them. Tally enjoyed her personal time, either alone or with the girls, when Jon had to go out of town for games.

So he was a little messy and generally forgot that dishes needed to be washed, clothes needed to be hung, or that skates needed to be aired out from time to time. Occasionally he also forgot to pick up after himself. He would openly admit that his apartment, when compared to Tallys, was an absolute disaster zone. Then again, anyones apartment compared to hers looked like a pig pen. She was very organized and kept her place, as well as Jon’s, in pristine condition. She always insisted her apartment was a total wreck if there was so much as one tiny plate in the sink or a jacket thrown across the back of a couch, but it never was. When Jonathan would leave for road trips, Tally would usually slip into his apartment with her spare key and clean every inch of it, wash all his clothes, do any dishes left, and take the trash out. Jon made sure to never take that for granted, though she always insisted it was the least she could do for him.

And maybe he wasn’t the most romantic guy in Chicago or, hell, even on the team. Nor was he the most vocal about his feelings, thoughts, ideas, or problems… unless it involved hockey. That was still something that Tally didn’t seem to mind, though. She had known he wasn’t overly affectionate – especially in public – and she was fully accepting of that, as well as his undying devotion to his team and sport. If anything, she admired that about him. He still made an effort to make her feel special, in his own way. Maybe it just wasn’t enough?

Jonathan’s thoughts were going to drive him into a panic before she even spoke another word if he didn’t get a hold of himself. So he did all he could do in that situation, and simply nodded for her to continue.

“Don’t do that, stop,” she sighed, taking a seat beside him on the dark leather couch. “Stop freaking out and creating problems, Jon.”

He allowed himself a sliver of a smile, simply because she knew him so well. “Sorry, you’re right. We do need to talk.”

Tally nibbled the bottom right corner of her lip, something she always did when she was upset or nervous. Any other time, whether embarrassed or excited or whatever the case, she would simply bite down on her lip and look away. Jon had learned that a long time ago, and generally found the nervous twitch cute.

Not this time, though. Not when it was coupled with her tone of voice or her refusal to look him in the eye.

“Tally—“

“Jon, no. Let me, let me just… let me talk, okay?” she huffed, standing from the couch to slowly pace in front of him. His jaw clicked shut, helplessly watching his girlfriend without a single clue as to what was going through her mind.

Tally took a few short moments, literally seconds, to compose herself and collect her thoughts. It felt like hours to Jon. The silence was nearly unbearable.

Finally, she spoke.
“Jon, we need- we need to talk about us.”

He nodded—that much he was well aware of.

“I think we should… well, I think… I just… Jon, we need to break up.”

Five words, three seconds.
That’s all it took for Jon’s world to come shattering down upon him.

“I… Tally, babe, what’s going on?” he stood now, moving to stand in front of her and firmly grasp her quivering shoulders. Tally was staring at his Nike running shoes with tears beginning to pool in her forest green eyes. She quickly shook her head and made a half-hearted attempt to pull away from him when one of his hands slid from her shoulder, down her arm, and grasped onto her cold, shaking hands. “Babe?”

“It’s just, we’re reading the same book but… Jon, we’re on entirely different chapters,” said Tally weakly, still refusing to meet his gaze. He wouldn’t have that, though. Gingerly, he took her jaw between his thumb and pointer finger and tilted her face towards him.

“Sweetheart, what are you talking about?” he breathed, searching her misty eyes when she finally gave into temptation and met his own chocolate orbs.

“Oh, Jon,” she choked, hastily throwing her arms around his neck and hiding her face in his strong chest. “We just can’t keep fooling ourselves. I love you so much, Jonathan, but that’s why I’ve got to let you go.”

“We’re not fooling anyone, Tally! I love you, too, but I’m not willing to let you just… just walk away from me like this. If you’re not happy then tell me, or if I’ve fucked up somehow, just tell me. I’ll fix it, we can make this work,” he pleaded, and her heart broke at the desperation and panic etched into each of his beautiful features. Jonathan wrapped both of his strong arms around her frail body and held her as tightly as he could, afraid that she would slip through his fingers unless he held her with every ounce of strength he possessed in his meticulously hardened body. “Don’t go.”

With a shaken breath, Tally eased herself from his embrace and placed one hand upon the side of his face. She gave him a sad smile, running her thumb along his high cheek bone and savoring the feel of his skin beneath her fingertips.

“I love you, Jon, and I always, always will. More than you know,” she promised, leaning in to give him one last kiss.

A kiss that seemed to solidify their separation.

Jon could say nothing as she pulled away, letting her hand fall to his chest for just a second before she wordlessly turned away from him, grabbed her keys, and exited his apartment.

Jonathan stood in that place for a long time, unable to truly believe what had just happened. He couldn’t understand at all; everything seemed fine earlier this week. Finally, when he could bring himself to move away from his living room, his feet trudged into his bedroom. There, he absentmindedly went to the dresser, opened the third drawer, and removed the stack of neatly folded practice t-shirts. There, he stared somberly at the small black velvet box. Jon’s calloused fingers brushed across the material as he debated for a moment the pros of throwing it across his room. Of course, just a few weeks after he purchases an engagement, the love of his life leaves him. Because they weren’t on the same fucking chapter.

Jonathan Toews had to get her back.