Chapter Text
Geralt sits on Yenn’s new couch, trying to get comfortable. She always had expensive tastes, but that also means she tends to prefer aesthetics over comfortableness and this particular couch is a perfect example of why choosing something pretty is not necessarily the best idea.
Still, he’s a guest here, so he figures it’d be rude to complain.
He can hear Yenn and Ciri in the kitchen, laughing as they cook. He thinks something might be burning, but the women don’t seem particularly concerned and so he tries not to worry either. Yenn was never much of a cook, but she’s always happy to try new things with Ciri and their daughter has recently become obsessed with some YouTube channel that specializes on pastries and she wanted to try making a cake for Geralt’s birthday.
He thinks he might have arrived too early, but he had expected the traffic to be a bit heavier. Besides, it’s not like he had anything else to do today; his brothers and adoptive father live several states away and while they normally call on his birthday, it is very rare for them to visit. In any case, they’ve never been the celebrating kind, so--
He’s been told, more than once, that celebrating his birthday with his ex is weird, but he honestly doesn’t think so: after all, they have a kid together and they’re still friends, so why would it be weird?
“You can turn on the TV!” Yenn calls from the kitchen. “I’ve got a new one! Did you notice?” she continues cheerfully.
Geralt hums. He has, actually; impossible not to. It’s a ridiculously fancy one, the remote having so many buttons Geralt can’t begin to phantom what they’re for. In truth, he had meant to watch some TV while he waited for Yenn and Ciri to be done, but he had been worried it’d break down if he as much as looked at it wrong.
Now that Yenn’s told him though--
With evident hesitancy, he turns the monstrosity on. The volume is turned up too high, so it roars to life and Geralt has to hurry to turn it down. “Sorry!” Ciri calls from the kitchen, which leads Geralt to believe she had been watching one of her music videos and forgot to turn the volume down afterwards. He can hear Yenn laughing, commenting something about old men and how sensible their ears are, which makes Ciri laugh too.
Geralt huffs once more.
“--you’ve been accused of using your exes as fodder for your songs.”
He turns his attention to the TV once more. The channel it’s on is playing one of those gossip shows, the kind Geralt never pays any mind to. But the show’s guest has grabbed his attention, his heart in his throat. Foolish, to still get this affected after all these years, but--
“Well, yes, of course I have. It’s not my fault I’ve apparently dated the most interesting people in the Continent,” Jaskier replies, tone light and amused and perhaps just a little bit offended. He’s even older now than the last time Geralt saw him giving an interview, his hair longer. There are a few lines around his mouth and eyes and Geralt’s heart aches for some reason. “And it’s like-- where do you want me to get inspiration from then?” he continues with a cheerful little chuckle, all charm.
The interviewer laughs along, her laughter airy and good natured. “‘Course, ‘course. And you’ve made some great hits out of every breakup--”
“Thank you.”
“Like, you channel all that hurt and anger and put it into an amazing bop.”
“I mean, yes. What else am I going to do with it? You can’t let that thing rot inside you, you need to pour it out, let go of it. And I’ve also written some great love songs, I think, but people always get so hung up on the break up ones.”
Geralt thinks he should change the channel. No use in torturing himself like this, it’s been many years since the last time he truly saw Jaskier. They were young and foolish back then, full of enthusiasm and hope.
This isn’t the Jaskier he knew. He looks like him and he’s certainly as charming, but there’s no honesty in his smile, it never quite reaches his beautiful blue eyes.
“True, true,” the presenter is saying. “I think those just fit better this narrative people have of you. The angry, hateful ex who’s also a maneater.”
“And womanizer. A total slut.”
Another laugh. “Right! So, I need to ask. This album--”
“The one.”
“Indeed. What a title. The one. Who is this one about? It’s all about the same person, ain’t it?”
Jaskier chuckles goodnaturedly, but the light in his eyes seem to dim or perhaps that’s Geralt’s overactive imagination. “That’s… see, we grow up with this notion of the one. In this big, extremely populated world, there’s someone out there that’s just the right one for us. Perfect in every sense. Some we’ll love till our dying day, someone we’ll love to the point of madness. But it’s just one person. That’s it. So you lose them and you’re screwed. No turn back. You might be happy again one day, but you won’t be truly happy, because you’ll have missed your chance. Isn’t it fucked up?” A huff. “No, I don’t particularly subscribe to the idea of one true love. I loved every one of my partners at different points of my life, in different ways. It doesn’t make them more or less, just… different.”
“So this album isn’t about just one person?”
Jaskier laughs. “Well, no, it is about a particular someone,” he says and laughs along with the interviewer. “But that’s not the spirit of the album. It’s about… the love you lose and the love you find and how the first one is always better because you never seem to remember the bad times, only the good ones.”
“Oh, but come on. That first single--”
“The one.”
“Yes! Exactly! It’s heartbreaking.”
“I mean… I suppose it can be. But I think it really summarizes the spirit of the album: you lose someone and you knew it wasn’t meant to be, but it could have been great if it was. And now it’s gone and you’re stuck with the memories, but there’s nothing to be done, so you just-- accept it.”
Geralt’s heart is in his throat, making it hard to breathe. Ridiculous, to get worked up like this.
“ I persist and resist the temptation to ask you/ If one thing had been different/ Would everything be different today? ” the interviewer sings, off tune and while the camera isn’t focused on him, Geralt can perfectly picture Jaskier’s fond smile all the same. He always loved when people would sing his songs, even if they completely butchered them. “Sorry, I have a terrible singing voice.”
“No, no, it was good!” Jaskier assures her, earnest and she blushes prettily.
“But honestly, that line always gets to me. I guess that’s the thing, isn’t it? We’re always left wondering what if? And we make up all these scenarios in our mind, but we’ll never know. Not for sure.”
“Quite,” Jaskier agrees and he sounds quieter now, thoughtful. Nostalgic. “To me, the line that really gets me is precisely the bridge-- But it would've been fun/ If you would've been the one . And he wasn’t, obviously, but I always come back to thinking, man, I wish he had been. ”
Geralt’s heart does something funny in his chest. It’s not about him, obviously, but-- “Ah! So it’s a he!” the interviewer exclaims, the smile on her lips shark-like.
“Ups!” Jaskier exclaims, falsely regretful and how is that after all these years, Geralt can still tell from the mere change in his tone whether or not he’s being honest? “I didn’t mean to say that.”
“Oh, come on! Give us another clue! Fellow singer, backup dancer, actor? There’s quite a list to choose from.”
Another laugh. “Sorry, but no. I’ve said too much already.”
Geralt changes the channel. He doesn’t want to hear this, there’s no point in hearing this. It’s been years since the last time they saw each other, he thinks of the bitter words he said and Jaskier’s heartbroken expression. In these years, he’s thought time and time again of looking for him, asking for forgiveness: it’s not about the love he (they) lost, that’s not the only thing he mourns. Because Jaskier was not only his lover, he used to be his best friend too and the distance has never stopped hurting, but at the same time, he knows there’s nothing he could say that could make him deserving of forgiveness, so--
And besides, he has his career now. Fame and money and admirers, why would he possibly need (want) Geralt?
Five minutes later, he circles back to the same channel, cursing himself for his stupidity. There’s nothing to be gained from torturing himself like this: they’ve both made their lives and he’s content with the decisions he made, since they brought him his daughter if nothing else, although he does regret being an asshole to Jaskier at the very end even if he still thinks it was for the best. Look at them now, Jaskier is an international star, taking the world by storm and he’s… well, himself.
The interview is over now, but Jaskier is on stage now, singing. His heart aches; Ciri loves him and she has all his albums; she even got him to buy the new one in an special pre-sale. But Geralt never actually pays attention to the lyrics: bad enough the gossip he learns about Jaskier’s love life from his teenage daughter, to listen to the songs he wrote for others--
Once, Geralt was his muse. It hurts to think he no longer is.
I guess you never know, never know/ And if you wanted me, you really should've showed/ And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow/ And it's alright now
The one, he thinks. He doesn’t believe there’s one true love either: after all, he had loved Yenn too, right up until their bitter divorce. And he still loves her, in a way, just not like that. As for Jaskier--
And if my wishes came true/ It would've been you
Yeah, he thinks, changing the channel once more.
The interviewer was right: it’s the what ifs that hurt the most.