The Story Left Untold.
one of one.
Jack watches Zack with teary, chocolate brown eyes as the older boy flits about the room, throwing all of the clothes and random paraphernalia of his that will fit into an old, tattered leather suitcase. He finishes, fiddles with the gold fasteners and clicks them shut. He picks up the case and Jack watches, helpless, as he walks towards the front door of the apartment.
Jack’s mouth hangs open pathetically in shock as his feet carry him after his –ex?- boyfriend, the words he longs to say, longs to scream, falling from an unsteady mind onto yet more unsteady lips.
Because Zack can’t be serious –he’s just mad, just angry, he’ll think straight in the morning, or so Jack hopes. He wants to say that, wants to tell Zack to stay for the night and think in the morning, but he can’t. He can’t find the strength.
He wants to sit Zack down and talk to him, properly, he means. Although he knows if that happens, he’ll just break and won’t hear or give the answers they both so desperately want –hell, need.
Zack looks back at the taller, yet younger boy from where he’s fumbling with his keys at the lock of the front door, the jangle they make shattering the almost deafening silence.
Something, something deep in Jack’s currently dark and dismal stream of consciousness tells him to speak, to say something, anything that will stop Zack from leaving.
“Remember,” he starts, voice shaky and cracking, less confident than he had hoped, “remember when we first moved in, and we hadn’t got around to building the bed yet?”
At this, Zack’s breath hitches for a second, and he looks up from his keys to lock his eyes with the younger’s.
“So we just had a mattress, on the floor of the bedroom. With a quilt with no cover on it, because we didn’t have one yet that matched the room, and it would have driven you mad. I didn’t care that we didn’t have a bed, that we only had a quilt and a mattress, because I was with you and you were everything –you’re still everything.”
Zack stares at him, and in the soft, orange light that falls through into the hall from the light in the sitting room, Jack can make out the tears that are sliding gently down his cheeks.
“You’re my best friend, Zack. And I –I swore to myself that I’d never let, that I’d never let this happen to us, I –fuck! I’m such a fucking idiot, I don’t even know.”
Jack breaks somewhere about when he realizes that yeah, Zack is probably the most important person ever to be part of his life, and he can’t –he can’t lose him, he can’t, not after everything they’ve been through together; the high school bullies, not being accepted by their families, first kisses, and then every other experience they’ve shared that Jack can look back on and smile at.
When Jack looks up again, Zack has taken the few steps over to him and is resting his hands firmly on his shaking shoulders.
“I can’t –I can’t just lose you, Zack, I can’t put myself through that, not after everything we’ve been through and-”
“Jack, breathe.” Zack says, knocking his forehead against Jack’s in a moment of madness that somehow seems to calm him. “Slow down, and just breathe, okay? I don’t want to have to worry about you?”
At this, Jack’s heart stutters a little. Ordinarily, Zack would have worried solidly until he managed to deduce what was wrong with him, yet now –now he shows no interest in doing so.
Jack wants to remember how to breathe, if only for Zack’s sake, but he just can’t. He has so much left that he needs to say, that he needs to tell the older boy.
But then, Jack isn’t sure where they stand, so the words hang limply in the air, lacking the bravado and majesty Jack had so desperately needed in order to make the blonde boy believe him.
“We can’t –we can’t just give up on everything we have, Zee, surely?” He manages to sputter out, voice barely there, harsh and dry.
“Don’t call me that,” Zack replies softly, voice not matching his words at all, “and we’re not giving up, Jack.”
“Then what are we doing? It looks a lot like giving up to me.”
Zack sighs, loosening his grip on the younger boy’s shoulders slightly.
“I don’t... I don’t know, Jack.”
Jack’s fingers immediately knot themselves tightly into the loose fabric of Zack’s jacket, as if letting go would mean that the older boy would just disappear –would just slip away without trace.
“Jack, just listen to me.” Zack says gently, trying to move away, but finding that the younger boy has a tighter hold than he first thought. “Is it right, can you honestly say that you’re okay with watching our relationship deteriorate into whatever it’s become?”
Jack shakes his head, blinks as more tears cling to his eyelashes.
“So do you not think... Do you not think that it would be better to just leave it alone for a while, and just let go and be with ourselves for a few weeks?”
“No! No, I don’t, Zack, because if I let you go then there’s more of a chance that I could lose you and I can’t –I can’t just risk something like that.”
Zack bites his lip, sighs to himself and blinks a few times, because, okay, maybe leaving now is a pretty terrible idea now that he thinks about it logically for longer than three seconds.
He shepherds the younger boy back into the sitting room, sits him carefully on the couch they scraped the money together for a few years ago now and kisses his forehead, before throwing his keys across the room in a gesture of ‘I’m not leaving anymore.’
And Zack decides then that, sometimes, maybe it’s easier just to ignore little things and pay attention to the bigger picture.
Jack’s mouth hangs open pathetically in shock as his feet carry him after his –ex?- boyfriend, the words he longs to say, longs to scream, falling from an unsteady mind onto yet more unsteady lips.
Because Zack can’t be serious –he’s just mad, just angry, he’ll think straight in the morning, or so Jack hopes. He wants to say that, wants to tell Zack to stay for the night and think in the morning, but he can’t. He can’t find the strength.
He wants to sit Zack down and talk to him, properly, he means. Although he knows if that happens, he’ll just break and won’t hear or give the answers they both so desperately want –hell, need.
Zack looks back at the taller, yet younger boy from where he’s fumbling with his keys at the lock of the front door, the jangle they make shattering the almost deafening silence.
Something, something deep in Jack’s currently dark and dismal stream of consciousness tells him to speak, to say something, anything that will stop Zack from leaving.
“Remember,” he starts, voice shaky and cracking, less confident than he had hoped, “remember when we first moved in, and we hadn’t got around to building the bed yet?”
At this, Zack’s breath hitches for a second, and he looks up from his keys to lock his eyes with the younger’s.
“So we just had a mattress, on the floor of the bedroom. With a quilt with no cover on it, because we didn’t have one yet that matched the room, and it would have driven you mad. I didn’t care that we didn’t have a bed, that we only had a quilt and a mattress, because I was with you and you were everything –you’re still everything.”
Zack stares at him, and in the soft, orange light that falls through into the hall from the light in the sitting room, Jack can make out the tears that are sliding gently down his cheeks.
“You’re my best friend, Zack. And I –I swore to myself that I’d never let, that I’d never let this happen to us, I –fuck! I’m such a fucking idiot, I don’t even know.”
Jack breaks somewhere about when he realizes that yeah, Zack is probably the most important person ever to be part of his life, and he can’t –he can’t lose him, he can’t, not after everything they’ve been through together; the high school bullies, not being accepted by their families, first kisses, and then every other experience they’ve shared that Jack can look back on and smile at.
When Jack looks up again, Zack has taken the few steps over to him and is resting his hands firmly on his shaking shoulders.
“I can’t –I can’t just lose you, Zack, I can’t put myself through that, not after everything we’ve been through and-”
“Jack, breathe.” Zack says, knocking his forehead against Jack’s in a moment of madness that somehow seems to calm him. “Slow down, and just breathe, okay? I don’t want to have to worry about you?”
At this, Jack’s heart stutters a little. Ordinarily, Zack would have worried solidly until he managed to deduce what was wrong with him, yet now –now he shows no interest in doing so.
Jack wants to remember how to breathe, if only for Zack’s sake, but he just can’t. He has so much left that he needs to say, that he needs to tell the older boy.
But then, Jack isn’t sure where they stand, so the words hang limply in the air, lacking the bravado and majesty Jack had so desperately needed in order to make the blonde boy believe him.
“We can’t –we can’t just give up on everything we have, Zee, surely?” He manages to sputter out, voice barely there, harsh and dry.
“Don’t call me that,” Zack replies softly, voice not matching his words at all, “and we’re not giving up, Jack.”
“Then what are we doing? It looks a lot like giving up to me.”
Zack sighs, loosening his grip on the younger boy’s shoulders slightly.
“I don’t... I don’t know, Jack.”
Jack’s fingers immediately knot themselves tightly into the loose fabric of Zack’s jacket, as if letting go would mean that the older boy would just disappear –would just slip away without trace.
“Jack, just listen to me.” Zack says gently, trying to move away, but finding that the younger boy has a tighter hold than he first thought. “Is it right, can you honestly say that you’re okay with watching our relationship deteriorate into whatever it’s become?”
Jack shakes his head, blinks as more tears cling to his eyelashes.
“So do you not think... Do you not think that it would be better to just leave it alone for a while, and just let go and be with ourselves for a few weeks?”
“No! No, I don’t, Zack, because if I let you go then there’s more of a chance that I could lose you and I can’t –I can’t just risk something like that.”
Zack bites his lip, sighs to himself and blinks a few times, because, okay, maybe leaving now is a pretty terrible idea now that he thinks about it logically for longer than three seconds.
He shepherds the younger boy back into the sitting room, sits him carefully on the couch they scraped the money together for a few years ago now and kisses his forehead, before throwing his keys across the room in a gesture of ‘I’m not leaving anymore.’
And Zack decides then that, sometimes, maybe it’s easier just to ignore little things and pay attention to the bigger picture.