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"Listen, how many times have I told you? Don’t bother me when I’m working!" Jake snaps, his tone sharp and unforgiving.
You freeze for a second, watching him, hoping for even a flicker of warmth in his eyes. But there’s nothing—just frustration, just exhaustion. Not love. Never love.
"I was just checking in," you murmur, voice small. "Making sure you were okay."
Jake scoffs. "Yeah? Well, I don’t need checking in on. I have a case to focus on. Just—just don’t."
The words cut deeper than they should. You swallow hard, nodding. "Sorry, babe," you whisper, pressing a hesitant kiss to his cheek. He doesn’t react.
You pretend it doesn’t hurt.
You retreat to the bedroom, curling beneath the covers, telling yourself this isn’t what it looks like. That maybe one day, he’ll see you. He’ll choose you. But exhaustion pulls you under before you can convince yourself.
________________________________________
A sound wakes you.
Soft, breathy moans. Low groans tangled in the air like a cruel whisper.
Your brow furrows as you rub the sleep from your eyes. "Ugh… what is that?" you mumble, disoriented. The clock on the nightstand blinks at you—2:47 AM.
Your stomach twists.
Slipping your feet into your slippers, you shuffle toward the living room, the sound growing louder with every step.
"Jake?" Your voice is hoarse with sleep, laced with confusion. "Is that you?"
And then—you see it. Jake. The man you loved. The man you let yourself believe would one day love you back.
He’s tangled up with her, some girl you don’t recognize, her hands clutching him like she owns him. His lips on her neck, his fingers tracing the shape of her like he never called you his.
The world tilts.
Your breath catches in your throat, sharp and suffocating. It feels like your entire chest caves in, like something inside you fractures beyond repair.
Jake looks up. For a second, there’s shock in his eyes. But then it’s gone, replaced with something far worse. Annoyance.
Like you are the problem. Like you are the one who ruined his night.
He doesn’t even say your name.
You don’t say anything either. Because what’s left to say?
You turn and run.
________________________________________
Back in the bedroom, your hands shake as you rummage through the wardrobe, heart hammering so loudly it drowns out everything else.
Your fingers find the rope. You tie it into a noose.
A note. You need to leave a note.
You grab a piece of paper, hands unsteady as you scrawl out the words, messy and uneven from the tears flooding your vision.
I’m sorry, babe. This is it.
I couldn’t handle my life like this. It’s too hard.
I can’t believe myself. I let you love me.
I’m sorry.
Love,
Y/N
You place the letter on the nightstand, hands trembling as you wipe at the never-ending tears.
The room is quiet, unbearably so.
You step onto the chair, tying the rope to the light fixture.
Slipping the noose around your neck, you tighten it with shaking hands.
You close your eyes.
"I love you, Jake."
And then—darkness.
________________________________________
Morning comes.
Jake pushes open the bedroom door, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes. "Y/N, I need you to do something for me—"
The words die in his throat.
His breath stops.
His heart stops.
"Oh my God."
His voice is barely a whisper, breaking apart before it even fully forms. His knees give out beneath him as he crashes to the floor, eyes locked onto your lifeless body. The air is thick, suffocating, as if the walls themselves are closing in.
No. No, no, no.
His whole body trembles as he crawls forward, reaching for you with shaking hands, but you’re cold. So cold.
Tears blur his vision. His breath comes out in short, panicked gasps, chest tightening like he’s being crushed under his own weight.
This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.
His eyes land on the note, crumpled slightly from where your hands had clutched it. He picks it up, his fingers ghosting over the ink, your handwriting messy and raw.
Each word is a knife straight through him.
His fault.
This is his fault.
A choked sob rips from his throat as he presses the letter to his chest, his whole body wracking with grief.
"Why?" His voice is broken, barely a whisper. "Why would you do this?"
He knows the answer.
He just doesn’t want to say it.
"It’s my fault," he murmurs, voice thick with regret. "I didn’t listen. I didn’t listen to everyone saying this would be a mistake. I—" His voice cracks, dissolving into another sob. "I shouldn’t have ever gotten with you. If I didn’t, then this never would’ve happened. I’m so, so sorry, Y/N. I—"
His voice breaks entirely.
And for the first time in his life, Jake Peralta has lost something he can’t fix.
Something he can’t chase down and bring back.
And now, he has to live with it.
Forever.