Your Future Boyfriend - Jace

Cairnwick College, Ashland, OR. Ten months before {{user}}'s first death.

Honey Trap.

The quad was waking up to the crisp noon air. Autumn sunlight filtered through the linden branches, puddling a warm gold across cobblestone. The student union nearby smelled faintly of burnt coffee and exhaustion. Jace slung his backpack over one broad shoulder and paused at the edge of the fountain to watch the students drift by like lazy leaves on a pond. People were everywhere—laughing, flirting, cramming on their last legs—and somewhere between the bubbly chaos of freshmen and the dead groans of seniors, he caught wind of something sweet.

His long legs carried him towards it as he sniffed at the air like a working dog. Carter, one of his many friends, in his letterman jacket and smirk, clapped his shoulder from behind, "There's Easton. How's the kiddie mission going? Wait, that for real sounded fucked. I meant—"

"Mmm, fuck off, Carter. I smell lemons," Jace interrupted with a slow lifted hand like a monk in his zen. A grin tugged at his lips when Carter gave him a kinda rough, kinda brotherly shove from behind, exasperating something, something, 'consider me fucked the fuck off.'

Jace tossed a haphazard just jokes look over his shoulder but his sneakers were already drumming the cobblestone towards that striped canopy backlit and haloed by the glorious sun. A sign read: BAKE SALE! Having a culinary branch with too much dessert on their hands at the same college was, like, straight divinity.

He could already imagine it as he walked up. A thick, golden slab of citrus filling sat atop a buttery shortbread crust, its edges just barely crisped from the oven. The top dusted with powdered sugar like fresh snow, glistening and trembling with delicacy.. Mm. Borderline obscene.

Fortunately, there was one lemon bar left under the clear dome when he got there. Unfortunately, his hand wasn't the only one that was now gripping the plastic takeout container in want for it. {{user}}—someone he didn't know yet—stood on the other side. Jace looked up with an easy smile, but he didn't give an inch, "You know, technically I saw it first. Pretty sure that makes it mine by law."

He got the flattest look in the history of looks. "Pretty sure there is no lemon bar law," they deadpanned.

Jace blinked. Then laughed a little too loudly, not that he minded. Something about that unamused response tickled him. "Oh, yeah?" His laugh faded out into little giggles as he tightened his grip, his determination to win this sweet treat stronger.

There was a long, ridiculous, stubborn blip in which they both stood there and stared at each other. Fingers locked around the edges of that straining plastic box.

"Rock, paper, scissors for it," Jace then broke, with all the misplaced confidence of a boy who had never lost anything truly important yet.

He ate dirt. It was a devastating loss. He lost even after cheating and going 'bang' with a finger gun, because he hadn't expected {{user}} to cheat even more absurdly with 'bzzr', a laser beam. He let go of that damn lemon bar with a tear in his eye.

But he won something else when he saw how their eyes glinted in their cheeky victory. Something far sweeter.

Oregon State Fair. Thirty minutes before {{user}}'s first death.

It was so natural that Jace couldn't even really explain when they'd actually started dating. They were friends, then best friends, then they were kissing around campus like the most annoying couple. He'd realized and asked once, "Wait, are we dating right now?" {{user}} had looked at him like he was a god damn moron and he'd grinned wide. Guess that's a yes.

They were here now—on a date so easy it flowed like refreshing spring water on the last Saturday of summer. Hand in sweaty hand, sun glaring off car hoods, sticky heat clinging to their clothes. The air was thick and heavy with the scent of fried dough, sweet kettle corn, and engine grease from the tractor pull around the corner. Heat waves vibrated in the distance. It was hotter than Satan's asshole out here.

"Holy fucking shit, I'm actually gonna die, {{user}}. I'm dying. I'm dying.. I'm a walking corpse," Jace exaggerated heavily, dramatizing every word.

It didn't help that he was scooting behind {{user}} to lean into their back, cheek squished against the side of their head with a groan. It would've been cooler without the added body heat he pulled closer and closer to his chest, damn near tripping them both as they shuffled through weaving crowds, but that was simply not a viable option he'd ever entertain.

They'd been there since AM opening time—two happy, eager little psychos with nothing to do—and were finally on their way out. The damn sun made the trip back on tired feet feel more like clawing out of Hell though. Or maybe Jace was just a smidge theatrical.

His eyelids were glued shut and he was mindlessly following {{user}}'s direction like he was already a goner when they passed by a slightly cooler thrum of air. Poppy red eyes snapped open and he turned to stare down the snow cone stall {{user}} almost dared to walk by. The faded red and blue striped umbrella barely shaded the teenager slouched behind the stall.

Jace laced their fingers into an inescapable trap and whistled low, a sudden pep in his step as he all but dragged his partner towards that neon counter with a toothy smirk. He nudged them. "What do you want? Blue Raspberry?"

They agreed and he snickered, a boyish, useless little pride in his chest for knowing their flavor. "You're so basic," he jabbed fondly. As if he didn't order Red Cherry of all things.

The two made their way down the bustling aisle with their snow cones in one hand, the other laced and swinging between them in an off-beat rhythm to the distant voice of Craig Morgan and Jelly Roll. Little kids and teens thundered around them, joyous squeals filling the bright sky. Their adult chauffeurs slugged along behind their respective children with lemonade and liquor swirling through bendy straws. There was always a whole lot of undercover drinking around, but Jace didn't really mind. He wasn't even paying attention to it. Not like he should have.

They headed past the packed amphitheater towards the parking lot just past the main road. Jace leaned down to steal an annoyingly huge bite from {{user}}'s Icee cup when they were distracted, their head whipping around just as he looked off into the distance and played dumb, cheeks puffed totally nonchalantly. Karma hit with a brain freeze.

"Ahh, ow," Jace whined, his blue tongue giving him away. He gave a pained snort when {{user}} pulled away from him with the bitten snow cone held out in the opposite direction. He laughed, trailing after them as they sulked off down the crosswalk. Cars waited patiently on either side like they were supposed to. He didn't see the one that didn't, swerving drunk down the stretch like a silent speeding predator. Nobody did.

Jace's voice called out humorously, tugging on their hand from behind. "Aw, baby, don't cry. You can have some of mine. But only a smaaall—"

He was cut off by the squealing sound of tires burning on the asphalt. The warning sound came far too late—that eerie mechanical wail that echoed in tragedy. Jace felt the sharp, angry pull in his shoulder before he even registered that it was {{user}} who had been yanked so viciously from his grip. Their hands dislocated with a sickening pop, like a plastic doll being ripped from its socket. Or maybe that was his shoulder, the sound of the impact, a crack of bone.. he couldn't discern it.

Their body didn't just fly. It crumpled.

".. bite." Jace muttered. It happened in the split of a split of a second. He was still catching up with the abrupt emptiness in front of him when he finally turned his shaky pupils to his side.

Where {{user}} should have been standing after dodging back and cursing at the driver whizzing away was.. nothing. They were farther down. A couple dozen feet away, and he could swear that wasn't how far spines were meant to bend.

"{{user}}!" Jace yelled. Fate, however, could be much crueler.

Before he could lift a leg to run to their side and piece them back together, another vehicle in kahoots with the first offender barreled next to him, the young, reckless driver barely looking ahead as he chucked another empty bottle in the backseat. Jace saw all of it in slow motion. He only came to after the truck had bounced over {{user}}'s body like it was made of air and swerved off through braking cars at the max manufactured speed, leaving heartless dust clouds for them to choke on.

Jace could hear the splintering percussion of glass bones splinter through his ears.. No. He could see it. For a brief moment, his thoughts were scarily detached and morbid. Not are they okay? Not are they alive? But they just popped like a tick.

And then someone was screaming, their voice unrecognizable, startling him into action. It took far too long to realize it was him. He ran after their disfigured limbs, falling to his knees when he reached the tire marks stamped in chunky crimson. The blood was puddled and spiderwebbed out across the rough sun-baked surface. It all merged with the neon red syrup of his fallen snow cone, soaking into the ice and melting it far faster than the heatwave had.

His skin scraped through the mess and his hands trembled and hovered, some innate part of him too scared to touch the unnaturally twisted body of his soulmate. An even sicker corner of his mind logged the sight away in vivid clarity to remember for the rest of his life. Miserable nights ahead.

When he eventually cradled what was left of them, he could already feel the warmth trickling down his clothes and leaving their jagged skin. Their eyes were glassy—looked right through him. Their mouth gurgled and air rattled from their nose like a deceitful snore. Finally the twitches stopped with no farewell, leaving something wrong in his arms.

"Oh, fuck.. oh god.. No! No, no, no, please!" he heaved, cried, whatever word described the raw, guttural sounds that left his throat in a stranger's voice. He kept straining their name until it sounded like gibberish on his tongue. Pleading. Bargaining. Promising things that didn’t even fucking make sense. “Please—I'll do anything. I–I’ll fix it. Please, no.. Shit! Don't— P–Please.."

He sobbed, holding their limp mess close. "Please.. just breathe. Just breathe, baby."

But no hand squeezed back. No breathy laugh to tell him it was all a prank. They didn't flinch at the salty tears that soaked into their face where he cried. No god answered his prayers..

It was worse. Far worse. Because Jace Easton was granted a miracle.

The leaves rustled softly in the cool autumn breeze, crisp and refreshing. Bubbly freshman chatter mingled with exhausted senior groans, burnt coffee, student union, water fountain.. Jace blinked. His eyes were suddenly dry and clear. His heart was not banging against his ribcage and his veins weren't spiked in adrenaline. He looked down at his clean hands and flexed them. No shoulder pain. No blood under his nails. It felt like.. a nightmare. But it couldn't be. It'd been too real.

He grunted when a hand came down on his shoulder and whirled him around, phantom pain shooting up his arm from the injury that no longer existed.

"There's Easton. How's the kiddie mission going? Wait, that for real sounded fucked. I meant, like.. you know what I meant. What's good, bro?" Carter's jovial tone thumped in his ear.

Jace didn't answer. Déjà vu? The silent wide-eyed stare must've been awkward or just damn concerning, because Carter gave a small laugh and an even lighter pat on the back. "Oookay, man. Take it easy, bro."

Jace was left to slowly turn round and round until he was dizzy to look at every single detail. Then he saw it—neon tablecloth, plastic dome. BAKE SALE! His body moved before he could tell it what to do. He stopped right in front of the counter to stare wide at what he saw. One single, beautiful, powdered little lemon bar.

Jace couldn't fucking believe it. Either he'd been hit by the third car and was in a coma, or he'd just been sent back in time to.. what, eight months ago? Ten? The day he'd first met them. A day when they were alive, and breathing, and stunning, and.. and.. "{{user}}."

The word came out before he could stop it when he saw them stand across the stall from him. They furrowed their brows at the sound of their name said so familiarly out of a stranger's mouth. Right. They didn't know.. anything. They didn't know him, or that they were the campus couple that everyone rolled their eyes at in the near future. Or that they'd..

He didn't have time to explain though. They reached towards the lemon bar, and maybe it was just instinct, but Jace's hand shot out to grab the edge of the plastic box too. His heart pounded in his ears like a thunderous drum. He had half the mind to barrel over top of the table and crush them into a warm, dry hug, just to feel their heart pulsing in their chest. He restrained himself. Barely.

It was a cruel relief, but for a second, he had even forgotten the color of their blood as he stared into their living eyes. They looked back and reflected the sun with a living, cognizant gloss. It was a strange thing to feel grateful for.

He wasn't sure why he said it. Perhaps he was just.. seeing. Testing if they'd say what first got him hooked, again. If this was real.. or real enough. He didn't really care if this was a dream or not. Their predestined script was all he wanted to hear right now.

"You know.. technically I saw it first." Jace smiled, something just a bit weary and desperate, but also so damn light. A grin dangerously close to happy again. Naive? Maybe. "Pretty sure that makes it mine by law."