Jaskier swirls his wine, eyes blank as they stare at the empty seat in front of him. He glances at his phone for the time before anxiously looking at the door. Still not there. Two hours late, a no-show. The appetizers grow cold, and Jaskier waves for the waiter to pack it up for him— the restaurant’s fucking expensive, and he’ll be damned before letting good food go to waste. He smiles at the waiter, not quite looking at him— can’t really take the pity in the man’s eyes as he whisks away the plate and returns with a brown bag with the restaurant’s sprawling cursive logo on its side.
Jaskier curses himself for being so hopeful, taking the bag in hand and rushing out the front doors and into the chill air of the night. Arms tighten around him in comfort as much as they do to stave off the cold (a coat-suit in vibrant sky-blue does little to protect him from sixty-degree weather, unfortunately) as he physically holds himself together from falling apart.
Today was fucking special, a one-year anniversary that Geralt, stupidly hot, stupidly smart Geralt, had set up in a fancy-ass restaurant, an entire romantic night planned out…
Well, there was a reason no other relationship he’s been in has lasted longer than a month.
And sure, maybe he’s being dramatic, a little too techy but old insecurity creeps up on him like a bad ex, leaving him shaky with too-loud thoughts.
Of course he stood you up, even good men get tired. Probably wanted an evening without you in the house. Have some fucking quiet for once, maybe.
He really should catch a cab, but the fucking stuffed mushrooms he’s got in his bag’s left him bankrupt. The night grows colder as he walks towards the subway station, hopefully; his phone’s still opened up to the call app, and his string of missed calls to his (probably ex-) lover is too disheartening to glance at.
Whatever. Just… whatever.
But hurt isn’t so easy to let go, not when tears burn behind his eyes for his own inadequacy, not when his mind jumps to the worst and won’t quit forcing an ache into his heart with each step of the pristine sidewalk.
His phone buzzes in his pocket, ringtone silenced as he walks towards nowhere. And it buzzes again, and again, till he’s left with shorter vibrations signaling texts. Jaskier feels far too heavy as he tugs his phone out of his pocket.
Fuck I’m so sorry. G [9:32]
I’m here, where are you? G [9:35]
Jaskier? Pick up my calls, please, let me explain. G [9:39]
Where are you? I’m worried, Jas. G [9:42]
Jaskier stares at them a moment longer.
I never meant anything to you did i J [9:42]
Knew this was too good to be true lol J [9:42]
His leather shoes smack against the sidewalks. At least he has some overpriced mushrooms to go home to.
You’ve got it all wrong, Jas. G [9:42]
Where the hell are you. G [9:45]
Like it matters to you. J [9:45]
He’s being unfair, he knows, but hurt thrums in his veins, louder than any reason.
Two hours, Geralt. Two fucking hours. J [9:46]
Let me make it up to you. I’m so sorry, Julek. The shelter was fuck-all busy today; I lost track of time. G [9:46]
Roach says hi. She asked after you today. G [9:46]
Jaskier chuckles, hurt forgotten in favour of a teacup-sized pup barking at his six-foot-two lover.
I cant wait for her to come home J [9:46]
He pauses, lips twitching. Im at 74th st and hemmingway ct. Im still mad at you. We’ll have to Talk about this, which Ik’s hard for you, you dick. J [9:50]
And Im fucking starving. Stop by Lo’s and get me some fucking trash noodles. J [9:50]
They better be greasy as hell or else J [9:51]
Will do. Stay tight, I’ll be there. G [9:52]
And Jaskier? G [9:53]
Mh? J [9:53]
I love you. G [9:53]
Jaskier rolls his eyes. I’m raging rn but I love you too, you bastard. J [9:55]
They spend the evening curled up on the couch, Geralt having brought home a fucking buffet in apology. Jaskier looks down at him from where Geralt’s tucked into his side.
“You really love me?” Geralt presses a kiss to his lips.
“I do.” And he spends the night proving it.