Promises - JDxTP one-shot

Jorel sighed and decided he had enough time on the bar. The Italian glanced around and found most of his friends already drunk out of their minds, especially George. He sighed again; George had changed from the man he once had a crush on. Jorel looked at the numerous empty shot glasses in front of them. However, he had only drank a beer and a couple shots. The main reason he left home to go have fun with his friends was to try to get his mind off of his ex-girlfriend, who had broken up with him a couple weeks back. She gave some cheap excuse but he knew she was cheating on him. It hurt him to think that she was lying to him, giving out excuses. And it hurt even more to think that he wasn’t good enough for her.

‘Not for her, not for anyone.’ He thought to himself and got up. Jorel looked at his bandmates one last time, but no one seemed to notice he was leaving. So he just walked out of the bar.

Once outside, the Italian breathed in sharply and looked up at the night sky. He didn’t want to go back home and stay in the silence, but he didn’t want to get drunk either. So he pulled out his car keys and decided that he would just drive around the city until he was tired enough to be able to go home and fall asleep immediately.

The Italian got inside his car and started the engine. He drove away and looked around tiredly, alone with his thoughts. He thought for a very long time, even though he was more than aware that overthinking was never a good thing. He was just trying to figure out what was so wrong with him, that no one ever stood with him for a long time.

He had only been driving for about 5 minutes when he saw a shadow in the middle of the road that caught his eye. Jorel frowned and stopped his car, while some drunk guy slowly stumbled across the road, trying to make it to the other side. The Italian rolled his eyes and watched as he stopped and leaned back, almost falling, but then continuing with his slow walk. A street lamp suddenly lit up, and Jorel recognized him with a gasp right in the moment the guy fell to the side and passed out.

He could just be seeing things, but he could swear he recognized those tattoos on the guy’s arm. Without even caring, the black-haired man exited his car and made a short run towards his ex-best friend, who was now on the middle of the road unconscious. As soon as Jorel approached Aron, he felt the intense smell of whiskey. He probably drank way too much and now he blacked out.

The man pondered for a second. He didn’t hate Aron anymore, he honestly didn’t care; it had been years since the breakup and he had moved on. But he couldn’t just leave the guy in the middle of the road. Plus…

He had made a promise.



Jorel and Aron laughed loudly at literally nothing, they just spontaneously started laughing.

“Okay, okay…” Aron calmed himself down and opened the door of his car.
“Dude shut the door, it’s raining.” Jorel said loudly, he felt like speaking loudly. Or maybe he had just drank too much. He looked at the bottle of vodka in his hand, and found it empty. Wait, wasn’t it full just, like, 2 minutes ago?

“Shut up!” Aron exclaimed, opening the door of the car. Unfortunately, he was way drunker than Jorel, he could barely balance his body. So, he shifted his body weight to the door, which caused him to fall outside when he opened it. The Italian laughed loudly, his voice getting to a higher pitch.

“You’re ridiculous.” He chuckled, crawling to the driver’s seat and contemplating his best friend sitting on the middle of the floor, already completely soaked. Aron looked up at Jorel and grinned back.

“Come here, you.” He mumbled and grabbed the larger man by his t-shirt, then gave a violent pull, which caused Jorel to fall out of the car and over Aron. They both fell into another fit of intense laughter, lying next to each other under the rain, on the middle of the sidewalk of some street they didn’t know. They had been drinking and driving for the last hour, shifting the driver to the one that was least drunk. When they decided they were both too drunk, they stopped on the roadside and just stood there.

“Dude…” Aron progressively stopped laughing. “You have to promise me that, if I ever pass out when I’m drunk, you’ll carry me home.”

“No way!” Jorel exclaimed and gave a soft chuckle. “I’ll leave your ass out on the streets so you learn to never get blackout drunk again.”

“We do it all the time, c’mon now.” The Russian protested, and they both laughed a little more. “Okay, now seriously, promise. I promise to do the same for you!”

Jorel stared at him for a moment. Aron’s eyes were shinning brighter than usual. Maybe it was the rain that didn’t let him see very well, maybe Aron was really drunk, or maybe it was something else. Jorel didn’t care.

“Okay, I promise.” He said, raising his pinky finger. “Pinky promise.”

Aron rolled his eyes and laughed. He wrapped his pinky around Jorel’s.

“Pinky promise.”




With a resigned and loud sigh, Jorel picked Aron up and shoved him in the back seat of his car. He then got in the driver’s seat and drove off. He wouldn’t break a promise, no matter what.


After a 20-minute car drive, he finally arrived to his house. Jorel firstly decided he would take Aron to his own house, but he was completely knocked out, he wouldn’t wake up. the Italian didn’t have that spare key to his house anymore and he definitely wouldn’t just leave him at the porch step, given the fact that Aron lived in an apartment. So he took him to his own house. He would have enough time to explain things in the morning.

However, while the guitarist carried him inside, he started waking up. His first sign of life was a soft purr, followed by a grunt and a loud whine. Jorel rolled his eyes and sighed. He opened the front door and entered the house, closing it with his leg and walking to the living room. He dropped Aron on the couch and walked to the kitchen, letting him wake up first and then see the man who carried him home.

Jorel sat on a chair and buried his face on his hands. What was he doing?? Aron probably didn’t remember that stupid promise anyway. He was helping a god damn old enemy.
But an even older friend…

“Where the fuck…” Aron grunted from the living room. The Italian got up and took a deep breath. He then made his way to the living room, and noticed that Aron wasn’t yet fully sober. He wondered if he had really passed out.

As soon as the rapper saw him, his eyes widened and he blinked. He didn’t seem mad or aggressive. Just really, really surprised. Like he would never guess it in a million years.

“What the hell…?” He asked in a high pitch voice, looking at the man standing in front of him from head to toes.

“Just fucking fall asleep, please.” Jorel almost whined, rubbing his eyes with his index and thumb and sighed loudly. “Don’t be a pain in the ass like you used to be.”

“No need to be like that.” Aron simply murmured, turning his back to Jorel. And he was right; he didn’t even say anything mean at the guitarist. But he was so used to him talking shit that…

“Sorry. Didn’t mean it.” Jorel grumbled and started to make his way to the stairway so he could go to his bedroom, but stopped and looked back. Aron was longingly looking at him. He wasn’t sure if Aron was just drunk out of his mind or that was actual longing, but it made him go back.

“You miss me.” The Russian stated. The fact that he was speaking louder that he must’ve comprehended meant that he was still drunk. But these words hit Jorel in the heart like a dry punch.

“I don’t miss you. I only did this because of that… stupid promise. I don’t care about you anymore.” But he was lying though, and he knew it. He missed Aron. He missed Aron nearly every day, lately. And every time something went wrong in Jorel’s life, it would always go down to all the regrets felt towards things he said, or he didn’t say, to Aron.

And now he looked down at Aron, who looked up at him as well. His eyebrows descended into a painful expression, his eyes gleamed and reflected the light above them, but it wasn’t just that; the pain, the insecurity in his eyes that Jorel never thought he’d see. The way everything seemed to crumble down in his world. The guitarist could hardly believe what he saw in Aron’s brown eyes.

"Bullshit, you fuckin' miss me." Aron repeated, this time louder. His voice cracked in the middle of the sentence, Jorel could tell how desesperate he was. How he was saying that more to himself that to Jorel. How he needed his love to stay sane, how he fed on all the little hopes for all those years.

The larger sat down next to Aron while he sat up and looked at him with that same pleading expression.

“Because I missed you, J.” He continued his drunken speech. “I miss you every day. You miss me, I know you miss me, you have to miss me. You remembered that promise…” He closed his eyes halfway and sighed. “I loved you.”

“I loved you too.” Jorel muttered and tried to look at his eyes. He was his best friend, and Jorel loved him like the most important person in his world.

“NO!” Aron practically screamed. “I loved you, Jorel.” Tears were now forming up in his eyes. “I was always so stupid and I was always so scared of losing you and then I did and I had no one else to blame but myself, and somehow I still managed to believe it wasn’t my fault.” His speech got sloppier towards the end, he sniffled and blinked to keep his tears from falling.

Jorel was astonished. It was way too much information to process at once. Aron started leading forward, it seemed like he was about to fall out of the couch, so the Italian was quick in reaching out and holding him tightly. It wasn’t just to stop him from falling. It was just to be able to hold him again, a bit like he used to, a bit like he always wish he could.

“I meant every time I said I loved you” Aron whined against his chest and sniffled again. Jorel rested his cheek on the other’s hair and closed his eyes, holding him even tighter. The smaller male had his arms curled next to his chest under the other’s arms and he didn’t plan on leaving soon.

“Yea…” Was all Jorel could say, even though he wanted to tell him everything. That he had loved him too, that he was sorry, that he understood everything now. But all that came out was a simple ‘yea’.

Everything fell to the right place now. So that’s why shit hit the fan when Jorel confessed his secret crush on George. That was pretty much when everything went to shit.
“I’m sorry.” He apologized. In one hand, he was hating himself for being in this situation with Aron, that guy that dissed him and the band and that said all that shit about him. But honestly, he was very happy that he had him back. Or at least that he could hold him in that way, in that moment.

“I’m sorry too.” Aron answered, and everything fell in silence until, about 2 minutes later, Aron shifted and Jorel released his hold so he could move. The Russian straightened himself up and looked at Jorel in the eyes, he was nearly sober now, Jorel could recognize his sober state.

“You’re such a motherfucker.” Jorel grumbled when Aron leaned their foreheads together, this sentence earned him a sad smile before he pressed his lips against the other’s. Jorel immediately kissed back, cupping Aron’s face in his hands and feeling his lips’ taste. It was familiar, but at the same time completely foreign. It was something he intended on tasting a long, long time ago. Even when it stopped sounding possible to ever happen.
Aron pulled away for air. Jorel licked his lips and sighed.

“I’m just glad you’re back.” He purred, not making eye contact with Aron.

“I’m glad I can be back. I’m glad you kept the promise.” Was the answer given by his best friend. He glanced up and snickered.

“I pinky promised. You can’t just break a pinky promise.” He observed with a small smile. The other snickered as well.

“Guess not.” He chuckled, and smiled affectionately. Jorel smiled back. God, what was he doing. Aron moved forward again and gave him a sweet smooch. When he backed away, Jorel dramatically huffed and got up.

“You’re such a faggot.” He spoke while walking to the kitchen, hiding a smile from the other.

“Hey! You liked it.” He heard him say, and then laugh. Jorel looked back and saw him with that stupid (and gorgeous) grin of him. He walked back to the man sitting on his couch and wrapped his arms around his chest, pulling him up while connecting their lips again. Jorel kept this kiss for longer, rubbing his lips against Aron's and slidding his tongue along his lips, begging for entrance. It was granted almost imediately, and they both enjoyed the warm kiss until they both had to back away to breathe in. The taller male released Aron and playfully pushed him away, walking upstairs. The other followed him up and held his hand, not giving Jorel time to protest.  

“Hey, you gotta promise me a thing.” He said.

“No more promises, the last one got us to where we are.” Jorel contested with a chuckle, squeezing Aron’s hand.

“Is it a bad thing?” The other asked, the Italian could sence a smirk on his voice. He was right, though. “Cmon, promise me this one thing.”

“All right.” Jorel sighed.

“Promise me you won’t leave again.” He murmured. Jorel looked back. “I promise to do the same.” The smaller added, wrapping his pinky finger around Jorel’s. “Pinky promise?”
Jorel looked down and seemed to hesitate for a second, but he wrapped his finger around Aron’s and looked back at him, with a sweet smile.

“Pinky promise.”