A Consummation Devoutly to Be Wishes//Open-ish RP? I dunno//@deanwinchesterthepisexual & ohthatsjustnotfair

(( I’m putting this under a read more because this thread will probably deal with some possibly triggering things, including suicide, depression, etc. So I’m putting it under a read more to be safe. ))

Jake was done. He didn’t know what to do anymore, he couldn’t handle it. He needed people, he neededaffection- proper affection, not just the kind found with a bit of money and a few too many glasses of whiskey. And day after day, night after night, he had become lonelier and lonelier as his friends left him for each other’s company, tired off his increasing misery.

He was tired off it, too. If he could leave himself, he would. He wasn’t sure if he could- but he could damn well try.

So it came to be that he sat in the parking lot in front of his block of flats, on the hood of the car he had just rented out. He fiddled anxiously with his phone in his hands. How was he supposed to explain it? How was he supposed to explain why he was leaving? Dean would understand, maybe, but Rose certainly wouldn’t, and the hunter seemed to be taking Rose’s side more and more these days. He was probably at her flat now, in fact- he certainly hadn’t been home in hours. Having fun, Jake hoped. Fiddling while Rome burned- except Jake could hardly compare to Rome. Fiddling while New Jersey burned, maybe.

But enough stalling. He had to get it over with eventually. He just hoped that Dean wouldn’t pick up…

Jake swallowed, closed his eyes, and typed in the Hunter’s number. It dialed once, twice, three times… and continued to do so until he reached the voice mail. Good. Dean didn’t pick up. He tried not to let it upset him- it would be easier, this way.

“Hi, Dean,” he greeted weakly. “I… I jus’ wanted ta tell ye… No. Crap! Let me start again.” He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, his free hand clenching into a fist. He couldn’t even get a well-organized note out, could he? “Right. I’m callin’ ta let ye know that…  that…” He sighed. “I don’t know how ta say it, mate, not with me own words. But Shakespeare was right, y’know. ‘Ta be or not ta be- that is the question.’ An’ I used ta be so sure o’ the answer- ta be, o’ course it was ta be- but these days.. I’m not as certain, an’… an’ it’s scarin’ me. But I can’t stop askin’ meself, an’ I’ve been thinkin’ about it, an’… maybe it’d be better if I left. Then ye wouldn’t have ta try an’ choose between me an’ Rose- an’ it was always gonna be Rose in the end, wasn’t it? not like I’m nearly as good as her, ye know I’m not- an’ it’ll jus’ be easier, ‘cause ye both can get on with yer lives without havin’ ta worry about me.”

He took a deep breath, trying to recollect his thoughts.

“So I’m leavin’. I dunno where I’m goin’ to. Maybe I’ll come back some day, maybe I won’t. I still don’t know what I’m goin’ ta do, if I’m goin’ ta…” He swallowed. He couldn’t bring himself to say it outright. “… Well. Y’know. ‘Cause I’m scared, Dean, I’m scared o’ what might happen if I do. I jus’ know that I can’t stay here any longer. I’ve been livin’ here fer ten years now; there’re too many memories in this city, it’s chokin’ me, an’ it jus’ gets worse every day…

“I’ll have me phone with me, but I dunno if I’ll answer. I’ve rented a car, an’ I’ll take me clothes an’ some other things with me, but ye can have everythin’ else, I’m not gonna need it.” An’ if ye really want ta find me, if ye really do care, ye can. Jake had left the receipt from the car hire company in the wastebin in his bedroom- if Dean found it, he could find Jake’s license number, and track him down… If he wanted to go through that much effort. “Anyway. There’re jus’ a few more things I want ta say, then I’ll stop botherin’ ye.

“Whatever ye do, don’t blame yerself.” Jake swallowed weakly, blinking back tears now. “It’s not yer fault, it’s been goin’ on since before ye came around, an’ I thought maybe it’d get better… but it hasn’t. Don’t blame yerself, whatever happens, ‘cause it’s not yer fault but mine. Okay?

“Secondly, take care o’ yerself, an’ take care o’ Rose. Tell her I’m sorry, an’ she’s a saint fer puttin’ up with me, all me misery an’ pity-parties an’ all that… I know I irritate her sometimes, but she doesn’t say anythin’ about it, an’… Tell her I’m sorry. I don’t think I could leave this sort o’ message a second time, I… I jus’ don’t have the energy anymore. I hardly have the energy ta do anythin’ these days. But that’s not the point.

“Thirdly, I left ye some things on the coffee table, that I… I’d kinda like ye ta read. It’s jus’… I dunno, bits an’ pieces o’ this an’ that.” There was Hamlet’s To Be or Not to Be soliloquy, and The Road Goes Ever On and On from the Hobbit, and The Bonnie Banks O’ Loch Lomond, and Roll Away Your Stone, and Little Lion Man… Bits and pieces of songs and poetry, all dealing with death, or guilt, or sadness, or leaving for a journey. 

“Anyway. I’m goin’ ta go now, Dean.” Jake swallowed weakly, unable to stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks now. “It’s been fun, yeah? Have a good life. Please. Fer me. Jus’ do that- have a good life.”

And, before he could start sobbing into his cellphone, he hung up and climbed into the car.

It was time to get on the road.