Chapter Text
The pounding in his head was all-consuming. Each swollen thud of brain colliding with his skull—reminded him of what he was doing. His dress pants were thrown unceremoniously on the floor, half-folded and wrinkled atop a hazardously splayed suitcase. Half-empty whiskey bottles sat like an amphitheater of eyes, watching the melancholic scene of a thirty-year-old man packing his life into a shallow box on wheels.
Jayce kept glancing at the analog clock on the wall, trying to keep up with the time. Its rhythmic ticking was the only sound reverberating off the walls of his apartment, a haunting countdown to his personal execution. It was 2 a.m. He had only a few hours left and much more to do, so he kicked into high gear. He folded his clothes quickly, shoving them into every spare space he could find. Once he deemed his wardrobe selection acceptable, he crept into the bathroom to grab his grooming supplies.
The tile was cold beneath his feet—the kind of cold that seeped through socks, settled in his heels, and sent a chill up his spine. It was a sobering sensation Jayce had grown accustomed to after years of kneeling over marble tiles during long, drunken nights. Even when he was borderline catatonic, he could always count on the dreadful, icy stone against his alcohol-flushed skin to jolt him back to life.
He caught his reflection in the mirror. His slightly overgrown brown hair, unkempt beard, and wild hazel eyes stared back at him with infuriating unfamiliarity. Who the hell was he turning into? Jayce had nearly completed his doctorate, secured an engineering job post-graduation, and was engaged to a brilliant lawyer. So why the hell was he falling apart at the seams?
The clock now read 4 a.m., and Jayce was completely and utterly done. He paced beside the couch, sneakers softly tapping against the linoleum floor. He needed to call an Uber to the airport soon. The group was set to depart at five, and he lived a solid thirty minutes away. But he couldn’t seem to pick up the phone.
His pacing stopped just outside the bedroom door. He peeked inside, watching as Mel’s chest rose and fell with the quiet pull of her breath. She was stunning like this—dark skin contrasting against white sheets, bathed in the faint glow of the bedside lamp. Her face was relaxed, peaceful, as if she hadn’t been screaming at him with bared teeth and furrowed brows just hours ago.
Jayce moved toward her before his mind could catch up. He loomed over her, mesmerized by the curves of her face, the delicate dips and lines of her body. She had a mole on her left cheek and another just above her lip—so faint, so close to her skin tone that no one would notice unless they had studied her face. But Jayce had. He had memorized every part of her over the last five years.
That’s why it burned like fingertips to a flame when he reached for the bedside table and pocketed her engagement ring—then bent down to kiss her lightly on the forehead. The touch was so soft it was almost nonexistent, yet she instinctively shifted away in her sleep. How fitting that her last goodbye was her subconsciously pulling away from him.
He closed the door behind him with a quiet creak and pulled the ring from his pocket, turning it over in his palm. A thin gold band with an intricate floral motif, her future name—Mel Talis—engraved on the underside. No gaudy gem. Mel hated frivolous things like that. She preferred intricate functionality. Jayce had spotted the ring in a store, sitting among a sea of diamond-encrusted monstrosities, and immediately knew it was the one.
“Isn’t it a bit masculine for an engagement ring?” His mother had worried that Mel would hate it. To outsiders, Mel seemed like the kind of woman who would want something grand, classically extravagant. But Jayce knew better. After three years of dating, he had found the perfect ring. He had wanted to propose a month into their relationship but knew he had to do it the right way. And with Mel Medarda, that meant waiting.
“It’s perfect,” he had told his mother with a smile. And the way Mel had accepted his proposal—swift, confident, no hesitation—proved him right. His mother had been wrong about the ring. Ximena had loved Mel, admired her sharp wit and how she never hesitated to put Jayce in his place. She always said they made a good pair, a little unconventional, but they worked. For once, Jayce was relieved his mother wasn’t alive to see this. She didn’t have to witness their relationship unravel before they even made it down the aisle.
He fidgeted with the ring for a moment longer before removing his own. Identical to hers, only larger to fit his hand. His mother had scoffed at the matching bands. Too masculine for a woman, too feminine for a man. She had never quite understood Jayce’s untraditional approach to marriage, but she had been happy just to see him settle down.
“You know, mijo, I was so scared you were gay! Never interested in women, always buried in your books. But I’m glad you turned out normal.”
Normal. Sure. That was one way to describe Jayce’s life. Simple. Predictable. He would finish his degree, marry a loving wife, take the kids to church on Sundays, and wrap the whole picture in a neat little white-picket bow.
So why was he ordering an Uber at four in the morning?
Running away from his entire life was anything but normal.
✶⋆.˚
“Where ‘ya headed?” The Uber driver had a strong southern accent that wasn’t very common in Orlando. Though Florida was a part of the south the accent was often escapable and only really seeped into regions farther north.
“Airport, just the main gateway is fine” and they set off at a rather quick speed, but who was Jayce to complain about being on time somewhere.
As he and the driver settled into a comfortable silence he took a moment to stare out the window. It was still almost completely pitch black outside, the only lights were those that emanated from the loud skyscrapers hanging over the city in a haze of billboards and multi-colored fluorescents. He was never fond of Orlando. He had spent his entire life here, gone to school here, and lived an hour from his childhood home. Its all he's really known, with the daily bustle of stop and go traffic. The ‘rat race’ so to speak, drained him but what was a man to do? That was normal life for a working man finishing his doctorate. There was that word again, normal.
The only time Jayce had ever ventured outside of Orlando was on a trip up north to Montana
for his father’s funeral. It had been a dreadful affair, Jayce was only six but he felt the emotions press upon his young form like sisyphus carrying the weight of the world. His dad’s family insisted on him being buried there with the rest of the Talis bloodline in a gorgeous field. He had to admit it was a beautiful place to rest, but that selfish part of Jayce wanted his father buried in Florida. That part wanted to visit his father, he already had to say goodbye in sterile hospital rooms and now he had to say goodbye in the gentle hills of the north west.
It had snowed two days after they put his father in the ground. Jayce and his grief stricken mind thought his father would get cold in the snow and ran full force out of the house into the harshly falling powder.
The cold bit into Jayce’s skin like teeth. He had run blindly into the storm, the world around him swallowed in a blur of snow and grief. His breath burned in his throat, his chest heaving, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t. His father was gone. Just… gone. The words still didn’t feel real. They clawed at his mind, an unbearable weight pressing down on his ribs, threatening to crush him where he stood.
Then the ice cracked.
It happened too fast to react—one moment, solid ground, the next, the world was tilting, splitting apart beneath his feet. Freezing water swallowed him whole. The shock hit first, a brutal, paralyzing force, his lungs seizing as the cold stabbed through muscle and bone. His scream never made it past the surface. Darkness churned around him, ice closing over his head like a tomb.
Jayce thrashed, panic surging through him. His hands clawed at the water, reaching for something—anything—but the current dragged him down, deeper, colder. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, frantic, desperate. I have to get him a coat, my Papá will get cold without a Jacket, Was his only thought.
But then—light. A flicker, distorted through the water, but there. Hope. He forced his body upward, muscles screaming, fingers breaking through the surface first. Air. He gasped, choking, coughing, his body weak, trembling, but alive. His hands found the jagged edge of the ice, slick with frost and blood from where his nails had scraped in his struggle.
Somehow, some way, he dragged himself out. Collapsed onto the frozen ground, his body wracked with shivers, his chest heaving in shallow, ragged breaths. Snowflakes melted against his skin, his clothes stiff with ice. He lay there, staring up at the swirling, endless sky.
His father was gone.
And yet, he was still here. Covered in snow, freezing in the cold, a six year old who cheated death.
At least it never snowed in Florida.
The thought was hollow comfort, but Jayce clung to it anyway.
“All right, we’ve made it. Where ya headed so early?” The driver’s slow drawl yanked him back to reality. Jayce blinked, the lingering chill in his bones refusing to fade. He pulled his hoodie tighter around himself, as if that could keep out something deeper than the cold.
“Prague. In Czechia.” Saying it out loud made it feel real. He was leaving Orlando, uprooting himself, and moving across the globe for a semester. Running headfirst into another storm, just like he did in Montana. Hopefully, this time, he’d survive it too.
The driver let out a chuckle. “Thought it was the Czech Republic these days.”
Jayce was too tired, too worn down by ghosts of memories, and more than a little drunk for the joke—if there even was one—to land. He exhaled a quiet laugh anyway, the kind that barely reached his chest.
“Heh… not sure. I’ll ask the Czech and report back to you.”
The driver snorted, and Jayce turned his gaze out towards the skyline visible from the airport’s entrance. The city lights blurred against the glass, neon streaks smudging together like watercolor. The last pieces of home slipped away behind him as he retrieved his bags from the trunk.
✶⋆.˚
The airport was already bustling, a restless tide of people coming and going, their lives colliding for the briefest of moments before scattering again like cells in a molecular uniform body. Departures and arrivals. Beginnings and endings. Some were heading off on vacations, others trudging toward work trips, and some—he imagined—were here for reasons much heavier. A funeral, maybe. A last goodbye.
5:17 a.m.
Jayce wondered how many of them were running, like he was. How many were leaving something behind, or just heading somewhere new?
His body felt sluggish, weighed down by exhaustion, and evidently by the lingering haze of alcohol. He put on a heavier coat that he had shoved in his bag, shielding himself from the artificial chill of the terminal. His head throbbed—a dull, insistent ache that pulsed behind his eyes. Coffee. He needed coffee. Maybe it would drown out the headache. Maybe it would make him feel human again.
He drifted toward a coffee stand, moving through the crowd like a ghost, unnoticed, untethered. As if he wasn’t really there at all.
“You look like shit.”
Jayce snapped his head around, already primed to throw out a comeback, but his words died the moment he saw her, it was Vi.
She stood there, arms crossed, smirking like she hadn’t just blindsided him. Her messy pink hair was held back by a headband, and she was wearing a form-fitting tank top—boldly declaring I love my girlfriend across the front—paired with gray sweatpants that were definitely more comfort than style.
Jayce huffed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I look like shit, huh? Bold words coming from someone who clearly rolled straight out of bed and into the airport.”
Vi scoffed, unbothered. “Excuse you , I happen to think I’m very fashionable.”
He snorted, shaking his head. “Sure. Very stylish. Your girlfriend pick that out for you?”
“Damn right she did.” She grinned, unashamed. Then, after a brief moment of comfortable silence, she tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. “Okay, two things. One—what’s with the beard? And two—why the hell are you here?”
Jayce blinked, momentarily thrown off. Right. She had no idea.
“I’m studying abroad,” he said simply.
Vi’s expression flickered from confusion to surprise, her mouth opening slightly before she shut it again. “Wait— what ?”
Jayce winced at Vi’s shock. He had been dreading this moment—his departure, the inevitable questions, the realization from everyone that he was leaving. No one knew he was coming on this trip. Not Vi, not their friends. Not even Mel.
The guilt hit like a slow, creeping tide, rising higher with every second. Mel didn’t even know he had left.
The reality of it all settled in, heavier than before. He had packed his bags in the dead of night, his hands moving on autopilot, stuffing clothes into his suitcase while his mind raced. It hadn’t been part of the plan—hell, up until yesterday, he hadn’t even considered going. But then, at the last minute, a spot had opened. Some poor student had fallen too sick to travel, and in a reckless, impulsive decision, Jayce had taken their place. Now, here he was, standing in the airport, about to board a plane, leaving behind everything—including the person he thought he loved most. The rings started burning a hole in his pocket. What was he doing?
Jayce exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well… kinda happened last minute.” He gestured vaguely, as if that explained everything.
Vi shook her head with a grin. “Dude, why didn’t you say anything?! Cait’s gonna be so happy you’re coming.”
If anything could steady him right now, it was Caitlyn. And definitely a coffee.
“Speaking of,” Jayce muttered, already heading toward the coffee stand. His body felt heavier than it should, weighed down by exhaustion, guilt, and the lingering effects of too many drinks from the night before. He ignored the way the fluorescent lights made his headache worse as he stepped up to the counter. “Black coffee please, largest you’ve got.”
The barista barely nodded before turning to make it. Jayce exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. A few moments later, he felt a presence next to him.
“Jayce?”
He turned, and there she was—Caitlyn, looking as put-together as ever despite the ungodly hour. Her dark hair was pulled into a neat ponytail, her blue eyes wide with surprise, then something warmer.
“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” she said, smile growing. “Are you—?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’m coming.”
For a second, Caitlyn just stared, as if processing. Then her expression softened into something fond, something that made the weight in his chest ease just a little. “That’s… unexpected,” she admitted. “But I’m glad.”
Vi clapped a hand on his back. “Told you she’d be happy.”
Caitlyn rolled her eyes but was clearly pleased. “Come on, we should head toward the gate.”
As they walked, Vi fell in step beside Caitlyn, lowering her voice just slightly. “Hey… you notice he’s kinda—”
“Yeah,” Caitlyn murmured back, keeping her tone light but concerned. “I smelled it on him.”
Jayce clenched his jaw. He heard every word.
They weren’t wrong. He was slightly drunk—last night had been a blur of impulsive decisions and far too much whiskey. But it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. Not here. Not now.
And thankfully, they didn’t push. Vi just gave Caitlyn a knowing look before shrugging. “Well, guess that explains the beard.”
Jayce snorted despite himself. “It’s a good look.”
“Sure, if you’re going for grieving lumberjack, surprised Mel hasn't shaved it off herself yet.”
Caitlyn sighed but smiled. “Come on, let’s just get to the gate before they start boarding without us.”
They all let the conversation drop, an unspoken agreement passing between them. Whatever was going on with Jayce, they weren’t going to poke at it. Not yet and definitely not so early in the morning. So instead, they fell into step together, coffee in hand, heading toward their flight—and whatever came next.
✶⋆.˚
They boarded the plane without issue and took their seats. Caitlyn and Vi were a few rows behind him, while in front sat a girl with long blue braided hair and a man with striking white hair—a truly eclectic mix. Jayce settled into the window seat, relieved that no one sat beside him. He was hoping for a quiet flight, until a girl with curly hair and rounded glasses approached with a weary smile.
“Hello, I guess we’re seat buddies! I’m Sky,” she said cheerfully.
Jayce managed a small smile. “Hey, I’m Jayce.”
“Rough day?” Sky asked, glancing at him with concern.
“Yeah, you could say that,” Jayce replied, shrugging.
Jayce forced himself to sit up a little straighter. “Jayce,” he said, offering a small nod.
Sky smiled, settling in beside him. “Hope you don’t snore,” she teased lightly.
“No promises,” he replied with a smirk, then leaned back against the headrest, already anticipating a long flight.
The plane rumbled as it taxied down the runway, the engines humming beneath them like a restless beast. Outside, the world was still cloaked in darkness, but on the horizon, a thin sliver of light stretched across the sky—a quiet promise of the coming day. The city lights below flickered like dying neon embers, fading as they ascended, swallowed by the endless expanse of night.
Jayce pressed his forehead against the window, watching as Orlando shrank beneath him. It felt surreal, like he was floating between two worlds—one he had just left behind and another he wasn’t quite ready to face. The thought gnawed at him. Had this been the right decision? Running, leaving without a word, throwing himself into something unknown just to escape the weight pressing on his chest?
The plane angled upward, climbing higher, and for a brief moment, his stomach lurched with it. His fingers curled against his armrest, but he forced himself to breathe.
Outside, the first hints of dawn bled into the sky, streaks of pink and orange cutting through the deep blue. It was beautiful. Quiet. A reminder that time kept moving forward, whether he was ready for it or not.
Jayce exhaled, letting his head rest against the seat once more. His body was heavy with exhaustion, the remnants of alcohol still dulling his senses, mixing with the nervous energy curling in his gut. He hadn't slept since the night before, adrenaline and a large black coffee were the only things keeping him even barely functioning. Eventually, the hum of the plane, the warmth of the cabin, and the weight of everything finally caught up to him.
His eyes slipped shut, and for the first time in a while Jayce let himself sleep.