Jack didn’t realize how tightly he was squeezing the beer bottle in his hand until he finally loosened his grip, having to flex his fingers to keep them from locking up. He shouldn’t have been nervous. He already felt like he knew where this conversation was going to go, and he’d been attempting to come to terms with it for far longer than he had been sitting in Gunner’s bedroom. “Paxton, I didn’t care about the guy’s mirror.” His words were stern, followed by a grunt to clear his throat. He felt like there were words trapped there, stuck somewhere behind his lips, dying to be let out. “I tried to ask you about.. you know. Your hand or whatever.” He pointed to the still scraped knuckles. “But you didn’t answer. You must have a mean left hook, think Coach B would have wanted you on the team if he saw what you left behind.” Jack didn’t know how else to talk about it, about everything. He didn’t know how to have a conversation with Gunner that wasn’t NORMAL. That didn’t center around their lives, around everything they knew about each other. “Sorry, I’ll– I won’t mention the bathroom anymore.” He didn’t truthfully know why they were both apologizing so much. Jack hadn’t been hurt, not really. He’d just been scared. For perhaps the first time in years, he’d found something to be afraid of, something so out of his control that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep it together. He tried not to notice the way Gunner’s ears burned with his question. He hadn’t wanted to embarrass him, he hated making the other boy feel small around him. It was the last thing he wanted, truly. Jack had been expecting the answer he received; all he could do was nod for a moment– one short and silent moment that seemed to stretch on for eternity and then some. “No wonder you’re– I wouldn’t have.. If I had known I mean..” But wouldn’t he have? It didn’t change anything, not for Jack. It was hard for him to focus on something so trivial when his heart was pounding in his ears and his breaths were racking his entire chest. “No. No, that’s not– That’s not true. I still would have, if I had known. I don’t know if that.. if that makes me a dick. Not regretting it.” Maybe it was selfish, but Jack had the hardest time with temptation. He tugged gently at the beer of Gunner’s they were still holding on to, like he was using it as a lead, afraid if he touched Gunner, his skin, that it might burn. “I think you know that it was fine with me. More than fine. I’d do it all over again, if I could. But that’s me.” His eyes narrowed with his furrowed brow. “What are you thinking right now? You’re always so hard to read.”
For a moment, Gunner felt a bit like he was being scolded. That must’ve been how it all started, he thinks - the tone Jack tended to use sometimes, stern but not forceful, nothing close to the way his dad would’ve chewed him out, always made Gunner feel like maybe he was disappointing Jack. And he hated that, to an almost inconceivable point, “Sorry,” he repeated, despite knowing better, as they both glanced down at the angry skin covering his hand, “I, uh. I joined the baseball team here, so the whole... pitching arm’s coming back, I guess.” Inhaling and then exhaling, once, deeply, Gunner tried to suppress the suddenly undeniable urge to cry. This all felt silly to him, the two of them fighting to spit out more apologies, avoiding touch, even avoiding eye contact. Even though there was a lot of distance, careful words, the whole thing still felt overwhelming to Gunner, because he hated the way they were walking around eggshells. And he hated that he hated it. He wanted to be more careful with Jack, he wanted to think this through better, properly, but it felt impossible. The blush that’d appeared was only made worse by Jack’s confession. If he hadn’t felt overwhelmed before, he did now - but in a way, this feeling was easier to handle. He felt overwhelmed in the same way a 15-year-old high schooler gets giddy overhearing their crush liked them back, “That’s - sometimes when you say things like that it’s, um... I don’t know, kinda hard for me to breathe? But not in -,” Distracted by the tug at his beer bottle, Gunner glanced at where their hands fought to stay gripped desperately onto the bottle, like they needed it to stay tethered. The tug seemed to have successfully snap Gunner somewhat out of the panicked trance he’d tossed himself into, finally chancing a look at Jack - the eye contact was immediately making him blush more. He hadn’t even realized how close they’d been, “Not in a bad way,” he finally concluded. “I don’t know. Honestly, I’m... I can’t really think right now,” Gunner mumbled truthfully, clearing his throat and scratching at his nose, “Sorry, gotta... pull myself together and shit. Um, I’m thinking that,” Deep breath. Inhale, exhale, “I don’t know why this scares me so much. It shouldn’t be a big deal but it’s... I think it’s because it’s you, and you’re -” Everything? That felt a bit much, but it was the only word Gunner could think of for a few moments, “important. To me. But... I didn’t - I don’t even know what I’m trying to say, um,” Glancing down at their hands, clutching onto the same bottle desperately, Gunner eventually eased the beer out of Jack’s hand so that he could place it on his carpeted floor without much care. His grip then grabbed at the other’s wrist, glancing down at the three freckles Jack had along the skin there that made a smiley face, and staring like it was a lifeline, both hands trembling as they held fervently, thumb pressing into the pulse point, “It was more than fine with me too. The kiss. You’re... a good kisser. Good job.”
