Jarah one-shots

*Notes *
Hi guys, this is slightly different one when j usually write, in a way, it's just darker ig, I tried harder to perfect it and make it look more like other one shots, it took me literally all night to write it, I think i started it around 12:30, and  finished it around 5:00am? I'm 99% sure I fell asleep while writing it at some point, anyway just Know, story's like this won't come all the time, some will have..I don't wanna say less effort, but ig just, less time put into the story, as it usually takes me an hour to write a 4000+ word one shot.

The house was quiet—too quiet. The soft creaking of the old wooden floors, the hum of the ceiling fan above, and the faint sound of a baby's cooing from the next room. The sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, casting gentle patterns of light across the living room. John B sat on the couch, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. His gaze drifted to the small photo frame on the coffee table—a picture of JJ, grinning as always, with a bottle in his hand and his arm around John B's shoulder.

God, I miss you, man...

It had been months since the loss, months since he'd buried his best friend. And for a long time, John B had thought he was okay. He'd been too busy, too focused on Sarah and the baby to let himself fall apart. There was no time for grief, no room for it—Sarah's pregnancy had been all-consuming, and then, suddenly, Valarie had arrived, a light in their life in the midst of the darkness.

But the thing about grief—it doesn't wait. It doesn't care if you're ready for it or not. And today, it felt like it was suffocating him all over again.

John B tried to shake it off, clenching his fists, but the ache in his chest only grew stronger. The absence of JJ was a weight he couldn't carry anymore, and it hurt. It really hurt. He had been holding onto this pain for months, burying it deeper and deeper, but now, with everything else that had happened, it felt like the dam was finally cracking.

He hadn't allowed himself to mourn, not like he should have. Not when there was so much at stake. Sarah needed him. Valarie needed him. And he had to be the one who was strong. But today, he could feel the cracks forming.

The baby's soft whimpers from the other room cut through his thoughts, pulling him from his own head. John B wiped his face, as if trying to wipe away the heaviness that had settled in. With a sigh, he slowly stood up, trying to steady his shaking legs. The room seemed to tilt, and for a second, he thought he might fall.

But he didn't.

He walked across the room, through the quiet halls, until he reached the bedroom where Sarah was. She was sitting on the bed, her back to him, humming softly to their daughter. The faint smell of lavender drifted through the room—Sarah's calming scent, the one that always made him feel safe.

"Hey," he said softly, leaning against the doorframe.

Sarah turned, a soft smile on her face. But when her eyes met his, her smile faltered, and she instantly knew something was off. It was the way his shoulders were slumped, his eyes too distant, too tired.

"Is she okay?" John B asked, his voice more brittle than he intended.

"She's perfect," Sarah replied, her smile returning as she looked at their daughter. "Just like her dad."

John B couldn't help but smile back, though it didn't reach his eyes. He stepped forward, moving carefully toward the crib where Valarie was lying, her tiny hands curled into fists as she slept. His heart swelled at the sight of her—this little piece of JJ, this piece of both of them. But the thought of what JJ would have been like as an uncle, what he would have been like with her in his life, sent a fresh wave of pain crashing through him.