The first night after Simon left had felt long, but Jack had a mission then: to think honestly about what he needed. The second night after Simon left was the longest night of Jack’s life. It didn’t help that he’d eaten approximately a dozen snickerdoodles and couldn’t tell if he was nauseated or hungry for something not made of cinnamon and sugar.
He’d gathered dead limbs from the clearing for kindling, chopped half a cord of wood by porch light, cleaned the kitchen and bathroom until they stank of vinegar, organized his office, and brushed the animals until their coats shone. Well, except for Rat’s. Hers never shone, no matter what.
Every ten minutes he fought the urge to jump in his truck and go back to Simon’s house. But Jean had told him to be patient; that Simon would come to him when he was ready. He believed her, but...he hadn’t thought it would be this hard.
When morning came, Jack paused at every sound, hoping to hear Simon’s car crunching up the drive. But it didn’t come.
He threw on a coat and took the pack for a short and stumbling walk. The walk was short because he was obeying the doctor’s orders to take it easy at first (not to mention it was slow going walking in the cumbersome boot), but the truth was it terrified him that Simon might come to find him when he wasn’t there.
But Simon didn’t come.
It was absurd: eight months of self-imposed exile in his cabin, followed by two months of wishing more than anything he could get out and not being able to. Now finally he was able to leave and he didn’t dare.
He took the pack on another short walk that evening and finally passed out on the couch as the sun set, exhausted enough to sleep through the night.
He woke early, fed the animals, and took them for another short walk. He could tell he was overdoing it. His shin ached and his left calf was starting to complain about him walking half on tiptoes.
This was the thing he’d longed for every time Simon left the house, and now that he had it all he could think was that he wished Simon were with him.
He thought he understood what had happened. Simon had convinced himself this would never work and when Simon convinced himself of things it was very hard to convince him otherwise. And Jack didn’t know how he could. How could you tell someone that the things they had experienced time after time were not true in this instance? He couldn’t.
But maybe he could show him.
When he got home he showered quickly, mind made up.
No more being patient, no more waiting for Simon to struggle through this alone. He might have had to wait for him to come to the house before, but now Jack was going to get him.
Jack dragged his clothes on over still-damp skin, shoved a beanie over his wet hair, and pulled on his boots.
“I’ll be back,” he announced to the pack. “And I’m bringing Simon with me. Hopefully. Fuck, okay, bye.”
Pirate meowed in what Jack chose to take as encouragement and Jack whipped the front door open determinedly, beginning his quest as he intended to go on.
And almost ran smack into someone standing outside his door.
There, on his porch, stood Simon, hand raised to knock, just as he’d been the first moment Jack had seen him.
Only this time, he wasn’t looking down with his shoulders hunched up to his ears. He was looking right at Jack, electric blue eyes burning, with shadows beneath them that spoke of his own sleeplessness.
Relief and desperation warred in his chest and he dragged Simon inside, suddenly worried he might bolt again.
“I was just coming to get you.”
Simon dropped into a crouch to greet the animals who swamped him, scratching ears, kissing heads, and attempting to untangle his scarf from Pickles’ grasp.
“Did your grandma tell you I came by?”
Simon nodded and stood. “You made snickerdoodles.”
“Yeah. Though if I never see another cookie it’ll be too soon. I kinda ate them all.”
They stood facing each other, awkwardly staring. Jack reached out and put his hands on Simon’s shoulders.
“Can we talk?”
Simon bit his lip and nodded. It was clear he knew Jack was actually asking if he could talk now.
Jack wanted to kiss him more than anything. Wanted to twine his fingers into Simon’s soft, messy hair and cradle his skull, and kiss him so he didn’t have to talk. But he simply squeezed Simon’s shoulders.
“I didn’t listen well the other day,” Simon said softly. “I thought you were done with me—that we had to be done. Now that you can do everything by yourself again.”
At Simon’s tone Bernard let out a baleful howl and pressed himself against Simon in a sweet move that would have sent Simon pitching sideways if Jack’s hands hadn’t been on his shoulders. It felt so right to have Simon in his arms, leaning on him, and he pulled Simon against his chest.
“Not a chance, darlin’. Never be done with you.”
Simon let out a whuff of breath that was half sob and half swallowed sound. The arms around Jack’s waist were so tight it was nearly painful. He stroked a hand up and down Simon’s back, relished Simon’s breath against his neck.
“Let’s go talk in the bedroom.”
“Fewer paws and tails,” Simon agreed absently and followed him.
Jack forced himself to swallow any bad tail jokes he might have been tempted to make and gently shooed Puddles and Louis out of the room.
“Can you—” Jack said at the same time as Simon said, “I was—”
“You go,” Jack said. He sat on the bed.
Simon paced. When he spoke, it came out in a sluice.
“I got scared that if things were back to normal for you then what would you need me for? And then winter would come and by spring you’d have forgotten me mostly and maybe the animals would have t-too. And I would miss them so much. And you. Obviously. Of course you. And—and then once I got scared I wasn’t listening to you, but I spent all day yesterday driving and thinking and it’s not just that I was scared you wouldn’t want me anymore but like if you did then what if I couldn’t be a b-boyfriend—a good boyfriend—cuz I’m all me-like and then I just wanted to be walking with you and the pack and so. I’m here,” he finished weakly.
Jack plucked out the key words and it was no surprise what they were. Scared, scared, and scared. Scared of losing Jack, scared that Jack wouldn’t want him the way he was, scared to lose the animals. But also want. Simon was scared but he wanted him, this.
“I’m scared too,” he admitted. That got Simon’s attention. “I don’t always know how to help you. How you want me to respond. I feel awful when I know you’re having a hard time and I can’t fix it.”
“You can’t fix it,” Simon said flatly. “It is me.”
Jack cursed his choice of words.
“I shouldn’t have said it like that. I didn’t mean fix you, I meant that I want to be able to make everything better for you. I would want that whether you were anxious or you had a headache. I don’t like seeing you suffer.”
“I can stay away when that’s—”
“Christ, am I saying everything wrong or are you in a really negative mood right now?”
Simon glared and Jack remembered that he’d said nearly the same thing to Charlie when Charlie had said he hadn’t liked seeing him suffer over the last eight months.
“Well, did you like seeing me suffer with my leg?” Jack tried.
Simon rolled his eyes.
“Please, that wasn’t suffering, you were just a huge baby about it.”
Jack was about to get annoyed at Simon for the first time when he saw the smile at the corner of Simon’s mouth.
“I’m just being...careful, I guess,” Simon said. “Sorry.”
Jack could hardly fault him for it. He knew all about being careful.
“C’mere.”
Simon stood between Jack’s knees at the edge of the bed and Jack curled hands around his hips.
“I don’t want to steal time with you,” Jack said. “I don’t want this to be some affair that plays out in my house but never sees sunlight. I want this to be real. That’s what I was trying to say yesterday. That was all I was trying to say.”
“Yeah, but when you say real, you mean...in p-public. With p-people. And—and—and I j-just...”
The quiver of Simon’s lip made Jack want to wrap him up in his arms and never let him go, but he’d learned by now that Simon’s stutter just happened and Simon got annoyed if Jack took it as an indication to treat him more gently.
“Yes,” Jack said, stroking Simon’s hair. “If I’m being completely honest. In public like we can go to the grocery store together or take a vacation, yeah. For me, yeah, that’s what I imagine when I imagine being with you. And people? Well, they’d be there, yes, but I’m not under any illusions about how you feel around people. And it’s not like I’m some social butterfly.”
Simon nodded, brow furrowed.
“But I want to be with you, Simon. I don’t want to be with an imaginary Simon who loves making small talk with strangers or singing karaoke in a crowded bar.”
He watched the color drain out of Simon’s face at the word karaoke.
“You could have anyone,” Simon whispered.
Jack tugged him down onto the bed.
“What does that mean, darlin’?”
“You could have someone...” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Jack kissed him.
“I don’t want anyone. I want you.”
Simon let himself be kissed but he was zoning out. Jack could practically see the thoughts zinging around in his head as if he were a translucent collection of energy transfers.
“Simon.”
“Hm.”
“Simon,” he said louder.
“Huh?”
Simon blinked, eyes wide.
“Where are you?”
Simon blinked some more.
“What are you thinking right now?”
“I w-want a hug.”
Relief struck Jack. He hadn’t really expected an answer and he certainly hadn’t expected that one.
He pulled Simon into his arms and pulled the covers over them. He held Simon tight and Simon clung to him.
There was so much he wanted to say, but this clearly wasn’t the moment.
“’M so tired,” Simon mumbled against his neck.
“Me too. Wanna sleep a bit?”
“Mm.”
Simon fell asleep almost instantly. Jack breathed in the smell of his shampoo and the faint wool smell of his sweater. Simon’s breath was warm and Jack was so happy to have him here, in his bed, in his arms. The rest could wait until tomorrow.