#sonorouswrites

[more-sonorous]

clippers (javey)

a continuation of my two trans canon era davey oneshots! part one here, part two here! the plot of this is based off of a poll i put out, which pretty much ended up fifty fifty so i tried to include both answers!

without further ado, the gays.

HAPPY PRIDE!

.....

It had honestly been an accident. A total and complete accident– Jack was wandering a different route and ended up stumbling across the Jacobs family on the way to Shabbat service at the synagogue. All five of them at once, and poor David amongst them, looking more miserable than Jack had ever seen him before.

He felt uncomfortable, like he was breaching Davey’s privacy, seeing him so tense and miserable, masquerading as someone else with a skirt and a bow. It was then, during that chance meeting (which Jack awkwardly and desperately tried to make brief), that Jack noticed how long Davey’s hair was getting. Shaggy curls that looked soft as hell and reached just beneath his jaw, framing his face. Didn’t look like Davey, and Jack guessed by the tension in his best friend’s shoulders that it didn’t feel like Davey, either.

Jack Kelly was not going to let that discomfort continue.

The very next day, when the sun was just barely peeking above the smoggy city sky, Jack met David and Les on their way to the circulation square. Jack didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed it before– the hunch in Davey’s shoulders, the way he kept awkwardly running those elegant hands of his through the mop of too-long curls– but now that he had made the connection, the discomfort was clear as day. Thankfully, Jack Kelly was nothing if not desperate to solve other people’s problems.

“Dave! Les! How are my favorite Jacobs’ boys?” He crowed, jogging up to his lanky friends and dropping a heavy hand on his shoulder as a means of greeting.

“Jack.” Davey responded, rather tightly, and gave Jack’s elbow a squeeze. “We’re well.”

“Yeah! We got fried eggs for breakfast! I could run a whole mile!” Incredibly chipper (as always), nine year old Les beamed up at Jack. Jack’s eyebrows jumped when he noticed that one of Les’s top teeth was missing. “And my tooth fell out while we was eating dinner!”

“Were eating dinner.” David corrected, gently, running a hand through Les’s tightly cropped head of dark curls. “While we were eating dinner.”

Les scoffed and batted his brother’s hands away, in a manner that made Jack’s chest ache for something he might’ve had long ago. “Ain’t that what I said? Jack?”

“Yeah, pretty sure he said whatever you said, Dave.” Jack grinned easily, stuffing his hands into his pockets and thoroughly enjoying the agitation creeping onto Davey’s sharp, lovely features. He had the furious scrunch of the other boy’s nose memorized to a science– playful agitation. 

“You are a horrible influence, Jack Kelly.”

“Nah, we just don’t speak the Queen’s English around these parts, is all. We leave that up to you, right, Lessy?” Jack earned a gap-toothed, dimpled smile from the kid– stupidly precious with his round face and dimples– and couldn’t resist the urge to mess up Les’s already untamed hair. “Hey, you said you could run a mile, right?”

Big, brown eyes seemed to light up with excitement. “Yep!”

Jack crouched to meet Les’s eyes, producing a perfectly shimmery copper penny from his back pocket. He flipped it between two fingers before holding the prize out to Les. “How fast can you get to the circulation center? If you can get there in less than five, I’ll give you a whole penny. Run ahead a’ me and Dave, and time yourself. Okay, Shortstack?” 

“You got it, Jack– I’m gonna win that penny, by the way!” Little Les called over his shoulder, already off like a rocket.

“Sure you are, kiddo!” Shouted Jack in response, easily standing to his full height and tucking his hands right into his pockets. Now he was alone with Dave, putting the plan he’d spent the night formulating into action as he wheeled around to face his best friend. “Dave, I was thinking–”

“You’ve got lipstick on your neck.” Davey responded very dryly, eyebrows raised to create an expression of either disappointment or disgust. 

Jack’s stomach jolted, suddenly feeling inexplicably guilty about the evidence of a morning spent with his girl. Dave always got weird when Jack tried to chat about his courtship with Kath. He was probably upset and wanting a girl of his own, or something, but Jack wasn’t gonna put words in the guy’s mouth. He tried to avoid the subject since it was seemingly sensitive, and he hated the judgemental and unhappy expression on Davey’s face. Quickly, he rubbed at his neck, which only earned him an eye roll from the other boy.

“No, you goof. Other side– no– ugh, just let me.” With pursed lips, Davey whipped a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and stepped impossibly close, sort of roughly rubbing the handkerchief against the very place Kath had sensually kissed just an hour or two ago. His hand was cold against Jack’s skin, and for some reason, Jack’s words died in his throat as he stared at the other boy. Davey’s expression was tight. Almost pained.

Typically, Jack was excellent with people. He could read emotions better than he could read words, knowing how a person was feeling just by glancing. Davey was, by far, the hardest individual to decipher. A real closed off guy. For some reason, he had Jack all jittery with his lipstick cleaning.

“There. Done.” As quickly as he started, he stopped, stepping away and shoving his own hands into his pockets. He did not look nearly as relaxed and casual as Jack when he performed this gesture, posture ramrod straight.

“Thanks, Dave.”

Another tight expression, and then: “Of course. The boys would poke fun at you for hours if you waltzed into the circulation yard looking like that. Now– why did you spend a whole penny to get me alone?”

“Oh, right. ‘Cause you need a haircut.” He grinned, suddenly remembering his plan (which he was awfully excited to carry out.

He did not earn the reaction he was expecting– Davey seemed to deflate, shoulders hunching and eye contact dropping within seconds. Davey didn’t do eye contact a lot (he did it mostly with Jack, which Jack was awful proud of), but when Jack lost it like this, he knew there was a problem afoot. “N-not that your hair looks bad like this, Dave. Y’look great. Y’always look great, Davey, but, uh, it just looks longer than I know ya like it.” 

“It is longer than I like it. That’s the problem.” He jammed the toe of his spit-shined black boot into a crack in the sidewalk, the two of them pressing closer towards the wall of a nearby building to avoid bustling passerby. “My Ima refuses to let me cut it again, since she’s convinced we’ll go back to school in the spring. Says I can’t go with short hair.”

“But… you don’t like it long, right?”

“I hate it long.” He mumbled quietly– it was very rare for Davey to offer such insight into his emotions, and Jack was eating up every last crumb. He stepped closer, just to hear Davey’s quiet voice. Davey’s subtle body heat was also welcome amidst the late autumn chill. “Ima used to make me keep it all the way down to my ass. It was a nightmare to care for.” 

Honestly, Jack couldn’t picture that. “Down to your ass?”

“Yeah, and it’s curly. Took me hours to care for every day.” Beautifully green eyes rolled miserably at bad memories, and Jack failed to create a mental image of Davey with long, raven-black curls.

Jack couldn’t picture Davey as anything but a boy, quite truthfully, and that was how it should be. Davey was a boy, after all, damn what his Ima and Aba might think about the situation. He felt himself frown, wishing he could march right up to Esther Jacobs and ask her why she couldn’t just love Davey for Davey. Jack did it perfectly easily– after all, Davey wasn’t hard to love. “Bet she lost her shit when you first cut it, huh?”

“It was horrible. She threw a fit like I’d never seen before. I guess because she loved my hair. It was the only thing I had that Sarah didn’t. Perfect, long, hair. But that’s gone now. Or, it was. Now Ima’s forcing me to grow it out, and she won’t let me near a pair of clippers.”

“Yeah… would be a real shame if I walked you home today and spent dinner laughin’ about a mishap with Racetrack and a big wad of chewin’ gum…”

“What?” 

“You remember, don’t’cha? How Racer’s gum ended up all tangled in your hair, so’s I had to cut all the gum out. I’ll tell Mrs. Esther I’m real sorry about the mishap, but I didn’t want a pal of mine going home with ruined hair. So I cut it nice and short to get all the nasty stuff outta it, and that’s the end of the story.” Jack could scarcely contain his own excitement, and he bit down on his lip to hide his growing smile as Davey’s big green eyes seemed to brighten considerably.

“So you cut my hair, and not me. I didn’t get near it with the shears.”

“Exactly. You didn’t have no part in it, and ya certainly didn’t want your hair cut, but I insisted.” 

“Oh, Jack…” Then, Davey was smiling cheek to cheek, brighter than the summer sun. Jack felt like he was flying, heart thumping like a battering ram against the confines of his chest. “You’re the best.”

He tried to shrug the stupidly complicated feelings off, sending his best cocky smirk Dave’s way. “So I’ve been told.”

That’s how they found themselves in the Lodge’s bathroom. Jack was an inch away from losing his mind, because Davey was sitting here shirtless in front of him with soaking wet hair. He had his wrappings or- maybe bindings, Jack couldn’t remember the word– tied tight around anatomy that Jack probably shouldn’t see, but even the gentle slope of his freckled shoulders was driving Jack crazy. Davey didn’t have the right to be this attractive. Constellations of freckles, pale skin, dark hair– Jack was kicking himself for thinking the guy was so fucking gorgeous. It was messed up. Those thoughts should’ve been saved for Kath alone. 

But he had the Lodge’s haircutting scissors in one hand and a strand of wet, dark hair in his other, and he was desperately trying to focus on anything but Davey’s excited face in the mirror. 

“You’ve done this before?” He asked, right as Jack chopped the majority of the long curl off.

Jack glanced up at their reflections before giving a distracted nod. “Yeah. Yeah, me and Mush take turns playin’ barber. Normally I just buzz or trim, but I’ll– I’ll do ya right, Dave.”

“Of course. I trust you.” Davey said, oh-so-casually, and Jack wanted to melt.

Instead, he cleared his throat and got to work, trying to banish any ridiculously unacceptable thoughts from the recesses of his mind. More and more curls dropped onto the towel around Dave’s shoulders, and Jack stared fixedly at the hair and not at the shoulders, or pale lower stomach that was just barely in his vision, or the way Davey’s thighs looked in his trousers. Something was wrong with him today. He was so caught in his head that he scarcely heard Davey speak up, rather meekly.

“Um, Jack?”

Blinking himself out of a stupor, Jack reminded himself to speak aloud. “Huh?”

“Is it, uh… is it supposed to be this short?”

Jack glanced up, and realized with budding horror, that he had cut the left side of Davey’s hair far too short. A little bit more and he could’ve nearly had a buzz. Shit. There was no way Jack was going to be responsible for fucking up Davey’s good looks with a shitty cut. He had to improvise.

“Uh… yeah. It’s… it’s just somethin’ new I’m tryin’. You gotta trust the process, man.”

Davey pursed his lips together, said ‘alright’ very quietly, and Jack thanked God he hadn’t gotten to the front of Davey’s head yet. His curls were still perfectly untouched, damp and hanging over his forehead. The back and right side had also been spared, so Jack had plenty of hair to correct with. 

He trimmed down the other side and the back until it was all just about even and much neater, leaving a lovely crop of short curls atop Davey’s head. Jack was careful, more careful than he’d ever been with a haircut, constantly glancing back and forth between the mirror and the dark hair in his hands. He worked diligently and slowly and made sure not a hair on Dave’s head was harmed, and thankfully, the cut turned out great. Jack let out a breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding as he brushed Dave’s shoulders off (his skin was warm and unfairly soft) and gave him a gentle pat.

“There. You’re all done.”

Davey stood and pushed a hand through his newly cut hair, joy practically radiating off of him. He was smiling uncontrollably, green eyes bright and cheeks rosy, and Jack wanted to die. He thought Davey was incredibly handsome, and he definitely should not have been thinking such a thing. 

“Gosh, Jack, this… this is amazing. You did an amazing job. I love it.”

“Yeah?” He asked, feeling uncharacteristically bashful as he brushed his hands off on his thighs. 

Then, Davey directed the full force of that smile at him. “Yes. Absolutely. You– you’re the best friend I could’ve ever asked for, Jack.”

“Wh– and– and you’re my best pal too, Dave. You gotta stop thankin’ me for doin’ the bare minimum.”

“What? No! This isn’t the bare minimum. You cut my hair for me. That’s going above and beyond.” Davey bit his lip, obviously considering his next move. Then, without warning, he lurched forward and threw his arms around Jack. “Thank you so much, Jackie.”

Immediately, Jack wrapped his arms around the other boy and held him tighter than necessary. Davey. Shirtless. Hugging him. Jack had feelings that needed to be examined and promptly repressed. “Y-You’re welcome, man. Hey– I think– I think you look handsome.”

He couldn’t help himself, ruffling Davey’s head of dark hair. Davey seemed to glow with excitement, his expression softening. He looked at Jack like Jack was the only person in the world. “You do?”

“You… you always look handsome, Davey.”

“Oh.” A pause. Long, tense– Jack nearly burst out of his skin, unable to pull his eyes away from the beautiful green in front of him. “Thank you, Jack.”

“Of– of course, buddy. Let’s, uh… we need to get to sellin’ or your pa’s gonna be upset about our earnings for the day.” Jack quickly stumbled back, kicking himself for letting whatever that was just happen. Katherine, Katherine, Katherine, he reminded himself, because he did love her. He was obsessed with her. He'd felt as much that very same morning. So why the hell was he feeling so entranced with Davey, just hours later? Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he decided to shut his inner monologue up and stop asking unanswerable questions.  

Davey seemed equally stilted as he yanked his undershirt back on, redressing rather clumsily. “Right. Obviously. Let’s go.”

And if Jack watched him redress far too closely, neither said a word. There was something about Davey– something about his hair, eyes, cheekbones– the way he carried himself– it was clear to Jack that Davey wasn’t just a friend. Jack admired him. Perhaps even romantically. That was a thought that made him inexplicably nervous in regards to their future, but his worries could wait. Davey’s newfound brightness, just because of a haircut, kept Jack happy throughout the rest of his evening.

[more-sonorous]

asking you to stop and wait and stay

some javey angst for you on this fine friday!

.....

There were many nights when Jack felt like his family’s home was too big. 

It was a problem he’d never dreamed he’d encounter as a boy. Not when he lived in a cruddy matchbox apartment with his parents, not when he was crammed into one shitty lodging house with twenty other boys, and not in the brief few months he spent working at the shipyards, learning to weld steel with unforgiving sun beating down on his skin. His life was rough cotton, sleeping in beds too small with too little room. 

Katherine’s world was strange and empty and new, and Jack was finding that he almost preferred the uncomfortable comfort of bodies pressed against him out of necessity. Not he and Kath’s too-large bed, not the too-long hallways or the too-far distance between their too-big bedroom and his son’s, which seemed miles away when the boy was having a nightmare, cries splitting the too-quiet night. The household staff moved about like mice and the entire massive country estate seemed to drown in silence every night. It was different. No snoring newsboys, no gentle humming from his mamá, nothing but Katherine’s soft breathing and the occasional groaning of wood. 

They’d been living here for five years and Jack still hadn’t quite grown used to it– the decadence of it all, the looming quiet, the heavy weight of responsibility. Maybe the halls were empty in an attempt to encourage them to fill it with family. That’s what the Kellys were doing, after all– they  had their first darling son Micheal and Kath was with child (they’d found that out recently and Jack was beyond elated), and he was positive there were more children to come. Happy about it, too. He’d always wanted a family.

They were young, though. Micheal was almost five and their little family was as small as he was, with his little hands and feet and his precious youth. Jack’s boy. When he slept well, the quiet never went away. 

Jack found himself unable to rest when he felt truly suffocated by the empty air. He’d travel through endless hallways and wander into the sunroom he’d claimed as his art studio, sit and bask in the moonlight that streamed in from the massive paneled windows. Paint a thing or two. Kath and Micheal, Davey at his precious piano, Race with a cigar, Charlie sitting in the penthouse. It was one of those restless nights, with rain gently pattering around the window, when the Kelly family’s stuffy butler poked his head into the studio and murmured something or other about Jack having a visitor.

He thought disdainfully about unnecessarily long hallways as he made his way to the front of the house, following the flickering candle of the man ahead of him, dressed in nightgown and cap. Jack was still in his clothes from the day– he hadn’t even bothered sleeping. In one of his moods.

Guilt for joining the ‘upper echelon’ as Davey so furiously called it during his rants, maybe. Jack never stopped feeling guilt about it. The money, the clothes, the house. 

Think of the man and he shall appear, apparently, because behind the door stood a rain-soaked Davey Jacobs. Wet curls clung to his forehead and his green eyes were bright and wild as he stared at Jack, flushed and breathless with his chest heaving beneath his soaked clothes. Jack realized, with slightly muted horror, that his best friend rode here on horseback all the way from the city in the middle of a rainstorm. He could see the miserable pony pawing at the mud in the lawn, somewhere in the distance as thunder rumbled. 

“Dave. Jesus. Jesus, Davey, you gotta get inside–”

“No, no. No. Not necessary. I just– I’ve got to head straight back home as soon as possible, really, but I had to talk to you, Jackie. Just had to.” He breathed, running a freckled hand through that curly hair of his. It was black with rainwater, and Jack realized that at some point his butler had disappeared into the night. “We’ll talk on the porch?”

He felt his own lips ticking down into a frown. This was very un-Davey like behavior. Davey never did impulsive things. Something was wrong. “Sure.”

The ornately carved door clicked shut behind Jack, and they stood alone in the lamplight of the porch. A storm sang around them, and dim moonlight saved the rain-soaked lawn from the depths of the shadows. Davey’s face was half-blue and half-orange, a strange mix of lighting that Jack was almost certainly going to paint later. Though he couldn’t quite focus on thoughts of paint and color when his friend’s face was taut with worry. 

“Jackie.”

“Everythin’ okay?” Jack asked carefully, feeling tension begin to coil up in his spine. 

He received a terse nod in response, and David buried his probably-freezing hands in his pockets. “Yes Of course. I’m… I’m perfectly alright.”

“Good. That… uh… that’s great.”

Davey nodded, awkward and stilting just like he’d been recently. For some reason, the man had been acting strange. Long silences, bouts of intense staring, a lingering melancholy sadness that seemed to bubble up when nobody was speaking– Jack wanted to understand. Wanted to shake Dave up a bit– figure out what was going on in his curly head.

With a little bit of horror rising in his chest, Jack noted that Davey’s wide green eyes were growing glossy with tears. 

“In short, I’m moving to France. Paris, specifically.”

Jack blinked. Mulled the words over in his head. Considered the actual possibility of Dave Jacobs moving to Paris. Felt his own chest shaking with a laugh as his eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, alright. Good joke, Dave.”

“No. I– I really am. Next week.” Earnestly, his voice rose in pitch. Jack almost frantically scanned his best friend’s face for any sign of lying but he found none– he’d known this man for six long years, and Davey was an awful liar. He was decidedly not lying about this Paris thing, and Jack was so baffled that he could scarcely form a logical thought. Davey drove his point forward with more rambling, elegant fingers fidgeting with the hem of his dripping coat, which was still dripping onto Jack’s porch. “I didn’t— I haven’t told you because I kept thinking I’d change my mind. I kept thinking it was too impulsive or too unlike me, and that I’d back out at the last second, but now I’m really seeing the deadline and I know I have to go. I know it’s what I need.”

“What you– what you need?”

Jack stared in disbelief, sort of feeling like the floor of the porch had dropped out beneath him. He felt like he was falling, like the air had been knocked from his chest, like he’d received a particularly nasty kick from his toddler. Davey was leaving. Davey was moving to another continent. 

He forced himself to breathe. Calm down. Katherine would be telling him to count each breath, make his way to ten– he wasn’t patient enough for that. “How long? A month?”

“Well– no. It lasts until I… um… learn everything. Or until my mentor thinks I’ve learned everything which– well, that… uh– that could be years, Jackie, I’ll be honest.” He looked away, rife with guilt from face to feet.

And Jack wanted to explode. Years. Years of Davey being fucking unreachable, years without his best friend and closest confidant by his side? Jack couldn’t do that. Davey was his person. Davey was who he went to when Kath wasn’t around. Davey was the first person he’d invite over for a casual drink or a night in. He ranted about his problems to this man. Told him absolutely everything. How was he supposed to function for years without Davey? And how could Davey choose to leave him?

He’d stayed for Davey all of those years ago when the call to Santa Fe had been so strong it nearly killed him. Kath firstly, of course, but Davey was amongst the long list of reasons. Davey was supposed to ignore this Paris call. He was supposed to stay in New York with Jack. They were happy. They had good lives. 

“How could you– I don’t understand how you could need to be so far away from everyone you love, Dave? You don’t need that!” 

Davey winced, looking smaller than Jack had seen him in years. He almost looked seventeen again, which thrust Jack back into memories of a much simpler time. This man did not look like a twenty-three year old, confident maestro that played piano in Irving Hall and chatted pleasantly with all of New York City’s wealthy folk whilst talking shit about them right behind their backs. This didn’t look like Jack’s best friend. He wasn’t sweet and funny Uncle Day. This was David. Jack was looking at David and he scarcely knew him, because Davey would never up and leave him like this.

“Jackie, you don’t– you don’t get it.” He seemed to plead, lurching forward like a wooden toy sprung into action. Rigid and frantic. “I got accepted for an apprenticeship in Paris. I’m going to study under some of my favorite composers, Jack, I’m learning from Debussy himself. I know– I know it’s going to be difficult to be away from home, but I need to leave–”

He saw red and felt his hands curling into fists as unrestrained anger coursed through him. “You’re abandoning everybody that cares about you, Davey!”

“I’m not abandoning you or anybody, Jack, I still– I’m going to be a part of your life! I’ll write you letters every week and I’ll come back as soon as I can. And I’m not just leaving for the sake of leaving, I– I have my reasons and that– that’s actually why I’m here. I needed to talk to you alone. I need to tell you something. I can’t leave without telling you.”

“Telling me what?” Jack scoffed bitterly, still stuck between unbridled fury and disbelief. 

“I–” Rigidly, he met Jack’s eyes. Davey looked almost like a frightened fawn, frozen like a statue with droplets of water slipping down the sides of his face from his damp hair. “You have to promise me that you won’t let this ruin our friendship.”

“Like movin’ to another country ain’t gonna ruin our friendship anyways?” He spat, almost bitterly, though there was a thick undercurrent of sadness beginning to roar beneath his mighty anger. Davey was right in front of him and Jack was already missing him like a lost limb. 

His friend’s lips pressed into a thin line. Jack could see him biting back a sarcastic retort and almost wished he’d let it out, but Davey seemed seconds away from tears and miles away from considering anger at Jack. “It won’t. But that’s beside the point. I just– I need you to tell me that what I’m about to say won’t change the way you see me in your mind.”

“What the hell, Dave?” growing fed up with the cryptic bullshit, Jack groaned and pushed a hand through his hair. Dave just blinked at him and Jack clamped his jaw shut tightly. “Okay, Davey, I promise.”

“Good.”

The other man sucked in a breath, chest swelling with it. His clothes– every layer from overcoat to waistcoat, were clinging to him. He was soaked through to the bone and his curly hair was only just stopping it’s dripping. Jack could see the nerves in the way his fingers were fidgeting nonstop, feet rocking forward onto tiptoe and back onto heel repeatedly. Whatever this was, it was tearing him up. It had led him to ride into the countryside through a thunderstorm. It was making him speechless, green eyes staring up at the flickering lamp to the right of the ornate door. He took another deep breath. A third one after that. Lashes fluttered. Jack was beginning to grow incredibly anxious– what the hell was his problem?

Then, Davey turned to face Jack and met his eyes with an almost searing intensity, a single tear slipping from his left eye as he opened his mouth. “I’m in love with you.”

Huh.

Jack considered, briefly, that he might’ve been joking, but after the events of the night, that was doubtful. Something about the way Davey was looking at him… he felt his own heart dropping to his feet, chest clenching tightly. “Davey…”

“Don’t– just– don’t say anything, Jackie, please.” He begged, lurching backwards. “Don’t. I– I’ve been feeling this way for so long, and it… it’s been making me miserable. Ruining my life. I see you every day and I know I can’t have you, but all I fucking feel is love love love and it’s driven me insane.”

He ran his hands through those wet curls and pressed his hands to his scalp, somehow still fighting tears. Davey cried often; it was remarkable how well he was holding himself together because Jack was closer to crying than he was. There was no way Davey was in love with him. He could scarcely believe it– until he began to actually think about it, examining the signs and realizing all of the little details he’d missed. 

Since they were seventeen, Davey had always had a particular soft spot for him, hadn’t he? Suddenly memories were flooding Jack’s mind. The private smiles Davey saved just for him, the way he looked at him with those owlish green eyes, the compositions he wrote just for Jack. The way he’d refused to be Jack’s best man and sequestered himself behind the piano all evening. The inexplicable tightness of his smile when he met Jack’s son for the first time. The awkward tension that never seemed to relax from his body when he found himself in Jack and Katherine’s home. The moments of sorrow when no one was looking, every single fucking time Jack caught him staring– oh, God. Davey had been feeling like this for years and Jack hadn’t noticed once.

His own throat was feeling tight with dismay as why why why ran through his mind.

He’d known about Davey’s homosexuality since they were eighteen or nineteen and Dave drunkenly confessed to kissing a boy. Jack had never cared about who he loved– Davey was his best friend and Jack knew plenty of other homosexuals. But Davey– Davey should’ve been in love with someone better.

Someone that could love him back, someone without a family of their own. 

Jesus. That explained Paris, too. Davey had been bottling this up for six years. Of course he was finally snapping and running away. Lined right up with the announcement of Kath’s second pregnancy. Oh, this was bad. Jack was driving him away. 

“Davey–” Desperate to comfort, he reached out his hand. Davey flinched away. “Dave, c’mon, I ain’t mad at’cha.”

“I– I’m glad about that but I just–” he turned to face the rainstorm and a bolt of lightning crashed across the sky, illuminating the picturesque lawn, bathed in darkness and soaked through and through. “I… I know you could never really love me back, but there was always part of me that hoped that maybe– it’s stupid. I’m looking at you now and all I see is pity.”

“I do love ya’.” Jack insisted, feeling his own voice warbling with unshed emotion. 

Davey’s bottom lip trembled and Jack felt like his heart was being shattered. He wanted to return Davey’s affections. To give him everything he’d ever wanted. To wipe the slow-rolling tears away. He couldn’t give him any of that. “Not like I want you to.”

And if that wasn’t a painful truth… Jack sucked in a breath. “Nah… but I still– I care so much–”

“I know you do, Jackie, that’s– that’s part of the problem.” He hiccuped a watery laugh and dragged his damp sleeves over his eyes, only making his face wetter. “Sometimes it feels like you’re st-stringing me along with all of your flirting and touching.”

“Oh, God. I never– shit, Dave, I really never meant for you to feel like that. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Jack was itching to do something. Hug him or just place a hand on his shoulder, Jack didn’t care. His fingers were burning with it.

Davey offered him a sad little smile and shook his head. “Not your fault. They’re my stupid feelings, anyways.”

“Not– not stupid. Y’can’t help it, man.” Jack swallowed around the lump in his throat as the air thickened with awkwardness. “I just– I wish you’d’ve told me sooner before ya’ decided to just run away from me.”

“I’m not running.” He insisted firmly, though Jack privately disagreed despite the force of his friend’s conviction. “I’m just putting a bit of distance between us for both of our sakes. I’ll write you letters and focus on my music and by the time I return, I won’t be in love with you at all and I’ll be everything you need me to be. Best friend, godfather, uncle– I’ll do it all perfectly and we won’t ever have problems again.”

Jack, once notorious for running without the notion of ever settling, was feeling pity. It hurt, sweltering with all of the other emotions within him. “That ain’t healthy, Dave. You oughta deal with it here.”

“I’ve tried dealing with it, Jackie. Six years. I’ve been in love with you for six years. That’s more than half a decade. It– it’s not fair for you to ask me to stay and wallow in it.”

Like always, he had a point. Unable to stand still a moment longer, Jack turned on his heel and paced the length of the porch. His mind was racing with incoherent thoughts, a jumble of panic and sadness and pity. If he’d have just known sooner, if someone would’ve told him, if Davey wasn’t going to Paris… and when he turned around, Davey was right there waiting, hands in his pockets. Jesus. Davey was in love with him and he was moving to another continent. 

“Am I… am I gonna see you again? ‘Fore you go.”

“Sure. I’ll have a little get together so we can all swap stories and have a drink before I set off.” He stared at his feet, at the black boots he so enjoyed to wear. Said they made pressing down on piano pedals easier. Fuck. Jack was going to miss his strange Davey-isms. “You and Kathy and the guys. My siblings.” 

He sounded hollow. Defeated. Jack felt sick. 

“We’ll make time.”

All he earned was a little smile. Davey’s eyes raked over him– hair to shoes– like he was committing the image of Jack to memory. Jack wondered if he was really ever going to come back from Paris, what with all of the raw hurt in those eyes, posture bent like he’d just been stabbed. What if he never came back? What if this was the last time he’d ever see Davey alone? “Well, guess I’d better–”

Without thinking, Jack lurched forward and tugged him into a tight embrace. Dave made a squeak of a soft sound, but he hugged him back after just a moment of hesitation. It was damp and cold and an awful hug– Jack’s cheek was frigid just from the contact with Davey’s shoulder– but he held tightly because this amazing, intelligent person was leaving his life and it was partially his fault. He’d been oblivious and he’d been a bad friend for not questioning the sadness he knew was there; for brushing it off as a part of Davey that wouldn’t go away. Even if he didn’t want to believe it, this was partially his fault. He really didn’t want Davey to go. He didn’t want to watch another loved one slip through his fingers, and he hugged the man like that might convince him to stay. Like maybe if he gripped Davey’s coat hard enough, he’d pull back and ask to go sit by the fire and warm up. They’d talk about Paris and Jack would talk and talk and talk until he’d convince Dave to just fall out of love with him and stay around, normal like things had been before.

But their normal obviously was never as good for Dave as it was for Jack, and that hurt too. It hurt when Davey sobbed quietly and it hurt because Jack was sobbing, too.

Davey was leaving. No question about it. No embrace could stop that.

And the embrace didn’t stop it. When Davey finally pulled away, minutes or hours later, he smiled a small, broken little smile. “Well. I’d best be off now.”

“Be safe.” Jack whispered, voice breaking.

And Davey nodded. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and made his way down the stairs, walking right into the unforgiving embrace of the storm. Climbed onto that horse and snapped the reins with vigor, disappearing into the night without leaving a trace behind. 

Gone. Probably never coming back, despite his promises. 

Jack retched. He threw up off the side of the porch and gripped the wood like a lifeline as the grief hit him in full force. Davey was leaving. Just like his parents had, just like everyone seemed to do eventually. Somehow Davey had gone and fallen in love with him, and Jack wanted to hate him for it. He wanted to throttle him for not choosing someone else. Wanted to throttle him for not saying something before Kath got pregnant, before the whirlwind of a wedding, before Pulitzer practically banished them to this stupid, too-big house in the too-empty countryside. 

Davey hadn’t even truly left yet. Hadn’t climbed onto a ship with his belongings stuffed into a suitcase. Still, Jack felt the loss. He figured he was going to feel it forever.

[more-sonorous]

what's in a name? (javey)

enjoy this shallow dive into some jack and davey headcanons created in tandem with the beautiful mind of @we-are-inevitable

(and some unrequited??? gay boy angst- HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!)

....

With the cramped apartment of the Jacobs family, there was a small pantry in which they kept their dry food and preserves. Often sparsely stocked with jars of sugared fruit and pickled vegetables, sacks of flour and the occasional precious bottle of cooking oil, this pantry was a familiar sight for the three Jacobs children. David, the middle sibling (and the tallest of the three), was often tasked with fetching the goods stored on the highest shelf. It was through this endeavor that he discovered a bottle of vodka hidden behind a sack of potatoes, refilled every time the contents drew too low.

Before Jack Kelly, this meant nothing to him. But once the two became acquainted, and David was roped into Jack-and-friends' occasional alcohol-ridden rooftop parties? He had the opportunity of a lifetime to impress his new best friend, and David was desperate to please.

“No way, Davey Jacobs!” Jack’s bright laugh seemed to light up the entire rooftop, his dimples appearing with stunning glory and complimenting his endearingly crooked left canine tooth. “How the hell didja get your hands on this?”

Trying to hide the fact that he was practically beaming with pride, preening under the praise, David shrugged and watched Jack examine the mason jar of pure vodka Davey had carefully siphoned out whilst his family slept soundly in their beds. “I have my secrets.”

“Didja steal it?” The charming boy grinned almost impishly, brown eyes alight with mirth.

“… Maybe.” David could scarcely stop his own grin. He’d broken a rule. Simply exhilarating.

Jack positively crowed with delight, smacking David on the shoulder. His hand was impossibly warm, the touch far too fleeting for David’s liking. “Look at you! I really am a bad influence, ain’t I?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

The other boy sat himself down on the fire escape, swinging legs hanging over the edge, and David copied his movements without question. They sat pressed against each other as Jack cracked the lid of the jar for the third time in their scarcely five-minute-long interaction and took yet another sniff of the liquid, scoffing out a laugh of disbelief. “Fuckin’ strong, too.”

“I know. My parents had it hidden in our pantry, up where Sarah and Les can’t reach. I only took half the bottle– I think they mostly use it for wound dressing when Les gets scrapes, but I’m almost positive they take a drink every so often.”

Jack let out a breathy snort of a laugh and bumped his shoulder up against David’s. “Who woulda thought the Jacobs parents kept straight vodka in their pantry? So, Mr. Straight-Laced Schoolboy, what happens when your folks notice halfa their Saturday night relief missin’?”

“I’m going to tell them I took it to help clean up someone who got soaked, I think. I’m sure they won’t notice in the meantime.”

For the first time in his rule-abiding life, David felt very proud of himself for stealing. He could thank Jack Kelly for murdering his good clean conscience and dragging it through the mud. That was for certain. The very same bright-eyed and beautiful boy pushed one deeply tanned hand through his silky black hair before cracking the lid of the jar and leveraging David with a devastatingly attractive smirk. “You know what we oughta do?”

“What?” He breathed, thrilled at the prospect of another one of Jack’s schemes.

“We should crack into this before we give it ta’ the fellas. As a reward for you stealin’ from your folks.” He said, phrasing it like a suggestion, though he was already removing the lid of the jar in it’s entirety.

“Don’t put it like that.”

“Cheers, Dave.” Jack winked, took a swig of the clear liquid, and David stared as his heart went alight in his chest, fluttering wildly against his ribcage. Jack recoiled after swallowing, nose scrunching as a cough shook his shoulders. “Christ almighty, this is strong!”

With laughter shaking him, David reached for the jar. “Give it to me.”

“¡Ni lo sueñes!, Davey, you couldn’t even handle beer last week!”

“Give it to me, Kelly, it’s my vodka.” He teased lightly, managing to throw his upper half over Jack’s lap, using his longer-arms-advantage to wrap his hands around the mason jar. David took a massive drink and tried not to show how badly the stuff burned his nostrils and throat, though that was difficult when he felt like he was coughing fire.

Jack only smiled dorkily at him, pretty grin almost leering. “Told ya so.”

To spite him, David drank again. He coughed again, tears coming to his eyes as he tried to return Jack’s wit; “You can’t tell me not to drink my own vodka.”

“It ain’t even yours, jackass, ya stole it.”

“Perhaps I’m just a common vodka thief.” David grinned, feeling his cheeks begin to heat already as he passed the jar back to Jack. Jack drank again as David loosened his tie, already suffering from a heady rush thanks to the massive and speedy intake of alcohol.

Jack snorted and shook his head to offset the burn of the liquor resulting from his second sip, and the subsequent third he took right after. “Perhaps. Shaddup, Dave, you ain’t hardly a thief. You’se too proper.”

“I can be proper and a thief. I can be proper and a lot of things. I have– I have plenty of secrets beneath my proper exterior.” David said, sagely, enjoying the creeping feeling of tipsiness washing away his anxieties.

“Secrets like what?”

Beside him, Jack was laughing to himself. Those strong hands of his twisted the cap back onto the mason jar they’d sipped from– their lips had touched the same glass (David’s homosexual mind was reeling) – and he could scarcely draw his eyes away from the callouses on Jack’s light palms and the scars littering the backs of his hands, and his muscular forearms. When David got like this (he had only consumed alcohol thrice prior), he often thought about bringing his lips to those scars. Or his tongue. Jack would likely sock him silly if he voiced those secret thoughts, so he decided not to say anything about the matter.

“Secrets like… things I can’t tell you.”

Beautiful brown eyes rolled, and Jack leaned back against the grating of the fire escape with catlike grace. “I bet it’s some shit like… you cheated on a test when you were eight.”

“No.” David scoffed, falling back onto his elbows to better drink in the sight of Jack in the moonlight. “I have legitimate secrets.”

“You’re a shit liar, Dave, I doubt there’s anything about you I don’t know.”

“Not true. For starting, my name isn’t David Jacobs.” He retorted plainly and simply, though once the slightly slurred words spilled from his lips, he mentally noted the extreme overexaggeration of the truth within them. Still, it was worth it, as Jack’s pretty eyes grew wide and his perfect eyebrows jumped towards his hairline.

“You’re fuckin’ with me, ain’tcha?”

Somberly, concealing secret pride, David shook his head. “I’m not fucking.”

Jack laughed one of his easy laughs and lightly punched David, moving impossibly closer. The space between them shrank, and what with the oppressive summer heat, David felt like he could fill the hot air between them with a million little secrets and hidden truths. Jack’s eyes glimmered like they always seemed to do when presented with a lovely piece of gossip. “Then what’s your name, if it ain’t Davey?”

“First of all, my government name is David. You named me Davey.”

“Ah, pish-fuckin’-posh.” A Katherine-ism, Jack-ified. “So your name ain’t David. What is it?”

“It was Dawid Jakubowski. When we lived in Warsaw.” David exclaimed, tilting his head back to examine the foggy swath of midnight sky, stretching endlessly above them. He wondered if the sky above their old home in Europe was equally dark, or if it was freckled with a belt of stars.

Jack’s teasing nature disappeared, replaced with an awed sort of reverence. David could feel brown eyes staring holes into the side of his head. “Aw, shit. I forgot you ain’t from here. That’s real neat. Dah–veet Ja-ko-bof… fuck. I’ll get it eventually.”

“You don’t have to. ‘S not really my name anymore, David Jacobs is my legal name. I was bein’ dramatic– David Jacobs is easier to say, anyways.” He waved a rather dismissive hand, tilting his head to get another glimpse of Jack’s relaxed stature. “‘S why my Aba and Ima had our names changed. Majer, Estera, Dawid, and Sara-- who lucked out, ‘cause they just added an ‘h’-- become Mayer, Esther, David, and Sarah. And of course, the whole last name had to be changed. Americanized. I used’ta think it was a load of bullcrap, but I sorta get it now. We get enough shit for being Jewish. Being obviously Polish Jews would be even worse.”

“Yeah, I hear you.” A contemplative beat of silence washed over the boys, and David allowed a pleasant sort of tingling to occupy his extremities as he watched- nay, admired- the stunning beauty of Jack Kelly, who seemed to have something on his mind. David could tell he was troubled just by the furrow of his brow, and he waited until Jack was ready to speak. That paid off. “My name ain’t Jack, neither.”

David’s interest was sufficiently peaked. He loved learning about Jack’s mysterious backstory. “Really? Race told me it was Francis, once.”

“That fuckass liar. Francis is my middle name. John Francis Kelly. That’s my full name.”

“Mm…” David narrowed his eyes, taking in every feature of Jack’s perfect face from his lovely jaw to the freckle on his left eyelid. “You… don’t look like a John.”

“I agree. ‘S why I have folks call me Jack. ‘N also, Snyder was lookin’ for John Kelly and not Jack Kelly for a while, so I threw him offa my trail for a minute there. But– John ain’t the name I was born with, y’know.” Jack tilted his head towards his curly-haired companion, the slightest smirk on his face. They were co-conspirators. David found himself to be breathless. He’d never felt more closely bonded to a single soul in his entire life. “But'cha can’t tell no one.”

He exhaled reverently. “On my life.”

“Juan Francisco Suárez.” Suddenly, the thick New York accent Jack always carried was gone, replaced entirely with a voice from another world. David was entranced. “‘S the name I was born with. First seven years of my life, I was Juan. Juanito, my Papí and Mamí called me.”

“Juanito.” David breathed, imagining a young, dimpled Jack, happy and content with both of his parents. He wished, suddenly, that Jack could’ve kept them forever. He’d only mentioned them twice in their months-long friendship, but he seemed to love them very much.

“Yeah, but it sounds real white when you say it. So stick to Jack, yeah?” They shared a laugh, playfully pushing at each other until the giggles died, and they found themselves laying side by side and staring up at the stars. “Kinda like we’re different people now. With different names.”

“Mm. Sometimes I feel like a buncha different people rolled up into one. Dawid. David. Davey. ‘S all different.”

“Yeah, but deep down, I think we’re still the same kids. Apparently my Mamí used’ta say I was still her little baby, even when I was pushin’ six. Papí said it pissed me off real bad, guess ‘cause I always felt like a big, tough man. Wanted to be like him, y’know?”

David didn’t dare make a mistake– he knew Jack rarely spoke about his family. Still, he wanted to hear everything. He spoke cautiously; quietly, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the careful universe of unshared memories they were passing back and forth. “What was he like?”

“He… he was everythin’. Big ‘n strong. Always had a smile on his face. Dimples, like me. Loved me n’ my ma ‘n my brother so much, wanted the best for us– ‘s why he moved himself and Mamí out of Mexico- that's where they grew up. He figured it would be better for the family they were buildin'. I, uh, I dunno if he was right about that, but they hitched a ride to New Mexico anyways and had me maybe a week after they touched the ground. Went up to New York after that, and the rest is history. He loved us a lot. Tried too hard to provide, and the city fucked him over.”

Maybe David was crazy, or maybe Jack’s eyes were glimmering with tears– either way, David felt like he learned more about Jack within that one conversation than he’d ever learned before. He was piecing together bits of a missing story. Tragic and beautiful. “You said you had a brother? And your mother– what was she like?”

Jack tensed, and he pulled his eyes away from David with unrivaled speed. “Dunno. She died when I was six. Don’t remember. D’you remember Poland?”

An obvious subject change. Disappointed, David accepted it and moved onwards– he’d learn more another day. “Not very well. We immigrated when I was four, so… I only remember bits. Our house was just outside of the city, and we’d ride into the city on horses, with Aba and my grandfather. There were so many rooms in the house– Sarah and I each had our own, and our parents, and my Aba’s parents, too. The grass was always green… and I remember watching my grandfather tune pianos for hours. That’s what he and Aba did– they repaired musical instruments.”

“Sounds… sounds fuckin’ perfect. How’d’ja end up here?”

“People weren’t really kind to us. Because we were Jewish, of course.” David let out a guttural sort of sigh, rubbing his hands over his eyes. “Aba fell for all of the lies about the ‘American Dream’ and now we’re here, living in a two-room apartment and counting every last penny. He’s got a ruined leg and his sons sell papers to keep the family housed. And lo and behold, still a bunch of antisemetic bastards surrounding us. I… sometimes I wish we would’ve stayed at home in Poland.”

“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t have me.”

David’s breath caught in his throat, and he tilted his head to find Jack already staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face. Something tender- something David didn't understand, couldn't place. The crackle of tension between them made David feel hot from head to toe. “No, I wouldn’t. Maybe ‘s a good thing we moved.”

“I think so. Then we wouldn’t have this vodka.”

“No. And I wouldn’t be a thief.”

“Whatever.” Jack laughed, loud and merry, and just like that, the fleeting moment was dead.

David loved and hated those split seconds when Jack looked at him like the only man in the world. They filled him with a ridiculous sense of hope, brimming and wonderful hope that was always crushed when David was reminded of the ever-present obstacle of Jack’s infatuation with Katherine. Mood suddenly soured, he stared up at the stars. Sometimes, everything felt pointless. He found himself missing his homeland more and more with each passing second.

Jack did not seem nearly as affected, and his laughter petered out into another equally pointless question. “Got any more secrets I oughta know about, Mr. Thief?”

“No.”

“C’mon… there ain’t any girls yet?” Jack grinned boyishly, pushing himself to sit up and swat at David’s arm. He batted Jack’s hands away, growing more and more irritated with each drunkenly sluggish thought.

“No, Jack.”

Jack blew out a sarcastic huff of air, continuing to impishly pester a very unenthusiastic David. “I don’t believe that for a second. You gotta at least be interested in someone. C’mon, Dave, you can tell me–”

“I said no.” He sat up, the world swimming around him for a split second before Jack’s slightly shocked face came into sharp focus. “I’d rather be girl-less and alone than trapped in a dead-end courtship with a rich woman.”

“Dead end?” Suddenly affronted, Jack reeled back, tension coiling in his perfectly broad shoulders. David knew, distantly, that he’d ought to retract that statement. Unfortunately, he was not sober, and he was feeling a great deal of animosity towards Jack and Katherine’s courtship. That animosity was only festering in this state when he felt as though he should have the right to lurch forward and kiss the scar splitting Jack’s left eyebrow, or the right side of his chin, and his hands unwittingly curled into fists.

“If I were to court a woman, which I do not plan on doing anytime soon, I wouldn’t choose one from the class of people that’s known for stealing from the poor. But I digress. I suppose you’re allowed to go back on your own morals if nobody calls you out for it. Ah, yeah, let me lead a strike against the rich, but then go and stick my dick in the rich, too–”

“What the hell? You can’t just get drunk and shit on my fuckin’ relationship, Dave!”

David swallowed, hard, and realized that he’d just singlehandedly soured the night. The fire escape, once their own private little world, was rife with tension. He swallowed the lump in his throat, glanced over Jack’s ‘ready-to-fight’ stance, and forced down all of the vitriol he so ached to spew. “You… um... you’re right. Sorry. I am drunk. Sorry.”

Jack only stared at him, so David stared at his shoes. Scuffed. They’d need to be spit shined tomorrow.

Tomorrow, when Jack would hopefully forget all of this.

“Are you really sorry, or do you believe that shit?”

“I’m really sorry. I’m… uh… ‘m jealous. That you have a girl. And I don’t.” He could barely grit the lie out through his teeth, but it seemed to melt the tension Jack had built up, just enough to save David from the soaking of his life.

Jack sighed, clapping a too-firm hand onto David’s shoulders. “I get it, Dave. You’re gonna find someone.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I’m serious. You’re smart, ‘n good’lookin’. ‘M surprised a sack like me found somebody before you, y’know?”

He could only shrug. The whole conversation felt forced. Awkward. Of course, that was entirely David’s fault, but still. Jack seemed to feel the ruin of the moment as well, and after a prolonged moment, he removed his hand. David felt nauseous and cold all over, and the night had only just begun. They hadn’t even met up with Race and the others; the drinking had barely begun. David was in for a miserable evening.

“Let’s… uh… why don’t we find the others, yeah?”

“Whatever you say, Jack.”

The rooftop was a short flight of stairs away, and as they ascended, David could only wonder how it was possible to feel so close to having Jack, when he was miles away the entire time. It seemed like he was caught in an endless cycle of chasing the boy, feeling just inches away from brushing into proper romance, and realizing that they truly were miles apart. There wasn’t any misery like it.

At least he had vodka to wash the thoughts away. That night, David Jacobs planned to tap into his Eastern European ancestry.

[more-sonorous]

I’ll paint you shades of blue and red— shades of blue and red (final chapter + epilogue)

here’s a ss of the most beautiful thing I’ve ever written I think

and… well, the fic is finally complete!! thank you all for joining me on this journey!! these two instillations have been some of my favorite things I’ve ever written, and seeing all of your art and interaction has just made my life so so so so much better. I love you guys so much, and I really hope you enjoy the way I’ve tied everything up!

I’m not going away… leave me some suggestions in the ask box! And tell me what you think of everything!

final chapter

epilogue

and the sister piece, bluestars and crimson, for those who haven’t read it!

[more-sonorous]

Here’s to me actually writing a fic in 2026… prayers up people prayers up

are the people feeling canon era or modern? do you want javey lesbians. do you want jathrid. what do the people want. tell me. I might not do it but I might do it

(Also why TF did the ui on this app get so awful? Every ad I scroll past brings up a PopUp. I’m gonna kms. Send help.)

[more-sonorous]

I’ll paint you shades of blue and red— green eyes and black curls (javey

ITS OUT BITCHESSSS

eat children EAT

for my sneak peak, have the part that had me sobbing as I wrote

[more-sonorous]

gay gay homosexual gay

(aka— Jack Kelly is in love with his best friend and in denial about it)

((aka next chapter of I’ll paint you is currently in the works))

[more-sonorous]

what i want to be (javey)

continuation of my transmasc canon era davey oneshot! because he is so near and dear to my heart.

tw/ for a little bit of blood and a lot a bit of davey thinking mean things about himself (and a lot a bit of jack saying nice things in return)

.....

David was not an idiot.

Or at least he tried not to be an idiot, but he found himself failing at doing so more and more as time passed. 

In his defense, it had been a rotten week. Sarah’s October birthday always reminded David of how much his parents favored his siblings over him, to put it bluntly. How could they not? Les and Sarah were golden children. Friendly social butterflies with gorgeous smiles and dimples, each with their own quirks, but nothing truly and debilitatingly strange. Not like David, who was too loud and curious as a child and too quiet and withdrawn as an adolescent, too opinionated, too awkward, with his trouble understanding expressions and tones of voice and his hatred for the skirts and dresses and pretty hairdos his mother always tried on him. Not what his parents expected from their middle child, surely. 

In a little over a month, David would turn eighteen. November. A bleak month already, but even bleaker when his birthday celebrations were compared to Sarah’s. They always had a small little party for all of Sarah’s friends, and Sarah would get a gift especially from Aba because it was no secret that she was the child he favored most. They always ranted about politics together and seemed to understand one another on a higher level-- even though Sarah denied it to David, it was no secret she was her father's child and she loved him deeply for it. Ima always gave her a present as well, usually a specially tailored dress or new blouse and skirt, because Ima loved to sew. For Sarah’s nineteenth birthday last year she’d received a real and true set of petticoats with lace and trimmings, a matter that had her pleasantly thrilled for weeks. 

David, on the other hand, received a combined present from both of his parents on account of money being rather tight around Hanukkah, and David never really liking any of the girlish things they bought him. He didn’t want new skirts or lace cuffs, and his father was awful at buying special little gifts for him. Mayer knew the brooches and political pamphlets and trinkets Sarah would enjoy, but he never seemed to understand David’s taste. It was fine. There was no house party, since David had no close friends to invite to such a thing. He’d always been too strange or odd for the other schoolchildren, and friendless-ness was something he’d learned to live with. Ima would make him rugelach and kiss him on the forehead in the morning, his father would hug him briefly and sincerely, and they’d let him have the day to himself to read or go walking or really do whatever he pleased in the solitude he’d convinced himself to prefer. Though he’d never dare complain, David hated his birthday. 

He hated comparing his birthday to Les and Sarah’s birthdays (Les was absolutely the darling of the family by far– he received the most gifts and celebration but it wasn’t quite fair to compare, since he was so much younger and meant to be spoilt while still a child) because it forced him to acknowledge how lackluster he was in comparison to his siblings.

David still loved them, of course, but birthdays were the reason October put him in a constant state of melancholy. 

The week in general had been horrible, what with Sarah’s birthday celebration and all of her presents and the love Aba showered her in. David’s depressive mood had thrown him out of his careful routine, and he found himself snapping at his family and the newsboys more often, much to his own embarrassment. He was close to breaking and maybe that was the reason why he was such a stupid idiot when he left the house that morning.

David kept meticulous track of his cycles every month. Three days before he was due to start, he always began wearing cotton padding just in case. He’d never encountered any problems and he was typically able to hide his cramping and irritability behind facades of general fatigue and teasing jabs that hit a little bit too hard.

That October morning, however, he made a very idiotic decision. Maybe it was because Sarah was admiring the socialist manifesto their father had bought her with the happiest eyes David had ever seen, or because Les refused to get out of bed and dress himself, but David did not put his cotton padding on. He was due to start in three days, after all, and he didn’t typically start early. They were in a rush. He was agitated and upset and feeling more worthless than usual. So he was an idiot about it.

“David.” Les hissed, tugging on his arm as they walked back towards the lodging house with Jack, arms free of papers and pockets a bit heavier with their daily earnings. He tugged again, stumbling along and whisper-grumbling like he didn’t want Jack to hear. “David.”

“What?” He snapped, coming to a halt and curling his hands into fists. He’d been feeling cruddy all day and Les begging him to buy a candy or stare into a shop window was the last thing he needed. David and Jack had been walking side by side in companionable silence, two of Jack’s fingers caught in the loop of David’s belt. He was very preoccupied with enjoying the way their hips and arms brushed together as they walked, and he did not have the time, energy, or patience to deal with any Leshem Jacobs shenanigans. 

Jack strolled to a halt as well, arms crossed loosely and brow furrowed in confusion. Les’s wide, brown eyes glanced between David and Jack, and he worried his bottom lip anxiously.

“What?” David tried again, through gritted teeth this time. 

His little brother tugged him down by the tie, until he stumbled into a crouch. Les was at the perfect height to cup his hands around his own mouth and lean in to press himself close to David, whispering right up in his ear. David tried to flare his own agitation as he caught his balance, hoping and praying that Les wasn’t about to ask him to play some stupid prank on Jack. 

Les’s voice was hardly even audible, a barely-there whisper that somehow carried notes of anxiety within it. “You’re bleeding.”

“Where?” He rolled his eyes and checked his palms for any sort of cut– but Les was very serious as he tugged on David’s pant leg. David raised an eyebrow, getting awfully tired of repeating himself. “Where, Leshem?”

“You know.” His little brother whispered pointedly, dark eyebrows raised and face creased with worry. “Down… um… down there.”

A moment of confusion passed before horror took over completely, spawning a tight sort of panic that made David feel tense from the soles of his feet to his shoulders. He wasn’t due for at least three days but apparently this was happening there and then and oh, God, a subtle glance down proved that Les was right. His gray trousers were darkened just between his legs and somehow he hadn’t noticed– probably too distracted by Jack.

Jack. 

This could not be happening in front of Jack. The panic really began to set in and David thanked God above that he hadn’t tied his bandages too tightly because he could feel his breathing picking up already. What the hell was he supposed to do? He’d been an idiot and left all of his padding at the apartment, and Jack was right there and he could notice at any minute and then David’s entire life would be over, and he spiraled into a frenzy as he jolted to his feet and grabbed Les tightly by the collar.

“Les and I have to go home now.” He snapped at Jack, barely able to hear his own voice over the rushing of blood in his ears.

“What?” Jack’s confused expression only got more confused as he stared at the brothers. David knew he and Les’s panicked expressions were almost laughably similar because their faces got red and their eyes got very big, but even Jack didn’t seem to think that this was a laughing matter. “Hey, what in the world is goin’ on? Way to leave a guy out of the loop–”

“Sorry, Jack, have a nice day. I hope the poker tournament at the lodging house goes well! See you tomorrow! 

Determined to flee as quickly as possible, David grabbed Les by the suspenders and steered him forward, heart thumping wildly against his ribcage. Of course, Jack was a stubborn little bastard when he wanted to be, and he jogged right up to Davey’s side. “Davey, what the hell?”

“I forgot we have… um… chores.”

Even Les rolled his eyes at David’s horrible lying abilities as Jack raised both of his perfect eyebrows. “Yeah, you wanna try that again?”

“No. I want you to turn around right now and go back to the Lodging House and pretend like this didn’t happen.” He gritted out, eyes plastered directly forward and tone clipped. David’s anxiety was cutting into the typical irritability he felt during this hellish week, when his own body betrayed him and reminded him that he’d never be who he wanted to be. 

“Excuse me?” Jack laughed almost incredulously, mouth dropping open. 

“You’re excused.” David snarled, trying to show Jack that he meant to be taken seriously and praying that his anxiety didn’t come across as obviously as he felt it. His fingers were trembling around his brother and now he could feel the uncomfortable dampness between his legs, ever-present and taunting. "Now go away.

“You ain’t doin’ yourself any fuckin’ favors, Davey, you’re only scarin’ me more–”

He couldn’t stop a noise of frustration from bubbling up. “Jack, when are you ever going to learn how to take a hint? Everything is fine, but we need to go home right now. So leave me alone. We’ll see you tomorrow.” 

David took the opportunity to shove Les through a tightly packed group of pedestrians, trying not to cringe at all of the strangers shoving and bumping against him. He felt about an inch or two away from retching all over the sidewalk as he tried to lose Jack in the throng of people, Les taking his hand and wordlessly speeding up their pace. David could scarcely breathe as they rounded the corner, clutching onto his little brother’s hand like a lifeline. This was bad. It was really bad, bordering on horrible, because Jack would be upset with him in the morning. But at least there was one good sign– Jack never chased after anyone except for Katherine. He was too comfortable with himself, too confident to go running after other people. Only her, and he loved her religiously. David felt a sick sort of happiness as he acknowledged the fact that Jack didn’t care for him in any manner other than a fleeting surface level friendship. He cradled that reassurance close to his chest as he and Les shouldered past other pedestrians, weaving through the most complicated path possible. He’d pretty much convinced himself that they were in the clear when a thickly accented voice cut through the space behind them.

“Davey– que carajo, Dave can you just– is that blood? Jesus fuckin’ Christ are you bleeding?” Rough arms grabbed him by the shoulders and David’s heart practically stopped in his chest as he wheeled around to face Jack, who had defied all logic and chased them through the crowds. Panicked honey-brown eyes stared down, down there, and Davey seized up like a stopped clock, no ticking in his brain or chest or heart. He wanted to freeze, melt, die, maybe. “Are you hurt– what happened– hold on a second– you– you– oh.”

Then Jack’s eyes got big and flicked right up to meet David’s. Maybe it was because he’d been feeling lethargic and sick and pained all day, maybe it was his previously sour mood, maybe it was the fact that the understanding dawning on Jack’s face was the most sickening thing David had ever seen– but his bottom lip was already wobbling as he shoved the other boy away. “Just– just don’t.”

If he ever thought he had a chance with Jack, his hopes were crushed and crumbled into nothing now. His eyes were stinging and he could barely breathe as he squeezed Les’s hand tight and turned on his heel, stumbling into a nearby alleyway. Remarkably, Jack was still on his tail and Davey had no idea how to explain this sudden annoying pursuit, other than the fact that Jack wanted to beat the shit out of him and he just couldn’t let that happen in front of Les.

“Davey, Davey would you just slow down for one goddamn second–” 

“Les,” David choked out through tears, “Would you wait by the lamppost for me?”

“But–”

He was already pushing the younger boy towards the aforementioned lamppost, trying his very hardest not to cry. “We'll just be a second.”

Then, steeling himself up for the worst soaking of his life, he marched resolutely into the alleyway and parked himself, standing straight and tall. Then Jack rounded the corner looking incredibly concerned and all of David’s half-assed plans to remain resilient and tough as the person he considered to be his best friend tore him apart all fell to shit. He was crying before he could stop himself.

“P– can you just wait to do this when my little brother isn’t with me? I can’t– I don’t want him to see me losing a fight.” He sobbed, the very idea of Les having to walk him home all battered and bruised by Jack’s hands absolutely tearing him apart. “Please. I w- I won’t ever step foot in the circulation yard again, Jack, I just– I really– I’m begging you not to, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if he had to watch you h- hit–”

“Watch me– God, Davey, oh my God, you think I want to hurt you?” Jack breathed, a look of unbridled terror taking over his gorgeous face. “Oh, Dave, Davey-mine, God, no. Mierda.”

Within moments, Jack was gathering him up into a tight hug, almost trembling with forced gentleness. David had no earthly clue what was happening, but he tucked his nose into Jack’s shoulder and let tears streak his cheeks as he breathed in the smells of cigarette smoke and sweat. The calloused fingers of one tanned hand threaded through David’s curls. “You just– it’s what anyone would–”

“Let’s shut this shit down right now, ‘cause I would never lay a hand on you. Never. Do you understand me?” He’d never heard Jack’s voice so firm and simultaneously anxious at the same time, and it wrenched a guttural little noise from him. Then Jack’s hands were cupping his cheeks and he stared at those resolute brown eyes, wanting to melt away and hide forever. “Davey. I need ta’ hear you say it. If I had to choose between dyin’ and hurtin’ you then I’m dead, do you get that?”

“But–” His chest shook and he squeezed Jack’s wrists almost desperately. “You know why I’m bleeding, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, I gathered that much but I– fuck, I’m just surprised, cariño, not angry. I don’ think I’ve ever been that angry with you. I mean– you know a guy for four months, and this ain’t exactly the shit you expect to find out about him. A’course, that don’t mean it ain’t okay with me, it just… caught me off guard.” Jack dragged one of his rough thumbs over David’s cheekbone and he felt that same sense of ridiculous awe and relief all over again, just like he had in that alleyway with Race back in August. “I ain’t ever gonna lay a finger on you. Understood? David. Come on and tell me you understand, cielito.”

“I understand.” His words warbled with emotion. 

Jack just looked at him like he was seeing right through his eyes and straight into his soul. David wanted to scream. “Good. Nothin’ is ever gonna change that.”

David couldn’t handle it. He was just too homosexual. Too goddamn homosexual to stare into Jack’s understanding brown eyes and feel his warm touch, too goddamn homosexual to believe the fact that Jack was standing here accepting him, not wanting to pummel the life out of him but instead aching to comfort him. He pulled himself out of Jack’s grasp and rubbed his hands over his face, tension making his shoulders hurt with rigidity.

Anxious footsteps carefully trailed behind him. “Davey?”

“You’re not… this isn’t how you’re supposed to react.” He whispered, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring down at his shoes. “You’re supposed to be angry.”

“Why’s that? Because some stupid rich folk and the stupid rules they created want me to be angry? Bullshit.” Jack reached for him, obviously wanting to touch, and David shrugged him off nearly instantly. He couldn’t take it. 

“Not just that. I’ve been lying to you. And… and the fact that you’re accepting it and not trying to put me in my place is just going to make it worse.” He whispered, hoarse and miserable and past the point of caring about his ruined trousers. “You’re egging it on.”

After a moment of hesitation, Jack settled with leaning up against the wall next to David. He was less than an inch away, reclined effortlessly against the bricks with his lovely black hair falling in curtains over his forehead. David could just barely feel his warmth, could sense the tension radiating off of him. “Egging what on?”

“My… my strangeness.” He gestured to himself. The clothes he’d sewn so carefully, his awkward, lanky proportions and the uncomfortable stain that had started this whole mess. His hair, recently cropped again, because he’d never ever be able to live with it long again after the freeing euphoria of having it short. The weirdness. The person that had been lurking under the surface of pressed skirts and waist-length curls of chocolate brown for all his life, scaring everyone away for years. His true self, hesitantly peeking out in bits and pieces, strange and different. “This. Whatever it is. I… I shouldn’t be doing it. I should be going by– you should be calling me–”

He couldn’t even say the name. It felt like poison on his tongue. He hated it. 

“What do you want to be called?” Jack asked delicately, his gaze searing the side of David’s face. “‘Cause I’m calling you that. Not what you think I should be calling you. Or not what your parents think, or society, or whatever. What do you want?”

“David. Davey, Dave, all of the other things you call me.” He buried his face in his hands as memories of Spanish endearments and his favorite, Davey-mine, all echoed in his head. That was what he wanted. 

“Then that’s what I’m calling you. That’s your name. David. Plain and simple.” Jack’s worn-out leather work boot inched slightly to the right, bumping against David’s badly-shined lace up boot. Jack’s laces didn’t match. David’s shoes  were stolen from his parents’ wardrobe, specifically from within a box of his father’s old clothes his parents were keeping for Les. “And you’re a man, if you want to be.”

His eyes stung with tears as he rolled that question around in his head. The ever-present pit in his chest finally seemed to have an explanation, and as he said it aloud for the first time, his heart broke a little bit. Now he understood himself. ”I really want to be." 

Maybe even needed to be, but he didn’t say that piece aloud. He couldn’t imagine going back to his old life. Not when he’d tasted the sweetness of being one of the newsies, unabashedly himself. Locking himself in that cage once more would be an indescribable torture.

“You are a man, Davey. To me and all of the other guys. David Jacobs, smartest guy I know. Prob’ly the best-looking, too.” His voice honeyed with the tease as he bumped their shoulders together, melting David bit by bit with the endless kindness and love he seemed to possess. “I never saw you as anyone else and I never will, neither.” 

A tear or two slipped as he nodded, tilting his head down and to his left to awkwardly press against Jack’s shoulder. Jack pressed an actual kiss to his hair before wrapping him up in a soft, gentle sort of embrace. “Jack. You’re… you’re a really good person.”

His firm chest rumbled with a chuckle. “Nah, this is the bare minimum of what the world owes you, Dave.”

That made him cry, really and truly, and he was just lucky to have Jack rocking him back and forth in a sturdy embrace. David had never felt so loved before. 

They spent a while lingering together, letting David work through all of his conflicting emotions while Jack stood firmly by. Their roles had swapped, usually firm and unwavering David was there for Jack, who had never known stability, to lean on for support. This was a strange departure from their usual dynamic, especially for David and his bone-deep hatred of vulnerability. Honesty reminded him of those childhood evenings when his parents would sit him on the couch and lecture him gently (with undisguised fear and anxiety in their eyes) about how the things he liked weren’t quite acceptable. Honesty reminded him of bad, miserable things. Of feeling like too much within his own skin or too little too. Still, it was more than lovely to have a shoulder to cry on. After a long enough time passed, Les came racing in, brandishing a metal pipe which he seemed intent on bashing Jack’s knees in.

Once he was convinced that no one was going to hurt his brother, Les was subdued and begrudgingly decided to trust Jack again. So they walked Les back to the lodging house and left him in Crutchie’s capable hands. Then, Jack took Davey to Medda’s theatre and he found himself in a washroom, carefully wiping his legs clean. 

It seemed that Jack only got more lovely with every passing day. In that alleyway, David fell hopelessly and irreparably in love with him. How could he not? Jack had found out about his lies and deceit and still cared for him. He was even scrounging about in costume storage looking for a new pair of trousers while David cleaned himself up. He was just wonderful, plain and simply, and that made the fact that David couldn’t have him hurt even more. A little knife, twisting into that hollow beneath his ribcage, teasing that Jack was both accepting and unavailable.

Still, David thought of Katherine. He never stood a chance– not against a woman of her caliber. Rich, intelligent, a perfect flirty spitfire to match Jack step for step. One day Jack was going to marry her and disappear into New York’s upper crust, leaving David stranded as just about everyone tended to do.

He’d gotten used to the loneliness. Didn’t mean he liked it any.

Feeling fully and entirely dejected with his entire lower abdomen twisted into nasty, debilitating cramps, he curled up on the tile floor of the washroom and let the chill sink into his skin. Somehow this had become his life. Vacillating between the happiest he’d ever been and the most miserable. A future of corsets and petticoats and no Jack Kelly was making him sick to his stomach.

What could’ve been an hour or just five minutes later found a gentle knocking on the door. He forced himself onto his feet and peaked just his head out the crack of the door. Jack stood, gorgeous and smiling and holding a folded pair of trousers. He also had one of those sanitary belts the rich girls wore. 

“Miss Medda gave me this thing.” Jack held it up, looking adorably confused. “I, uh, I told her Smalls needed some stuff back at the lodging house, so you don’t need to worry.”

“Thanks.” David whispered, unable to muster up much joy with his thoughts spiraling in such a way.

Right before he could close the door, Jack caught it. He looked hesitant, a furrow between his brows. Hesitance was not a look David often saw on the fearless Jack Kelly. “Can I come in? Once you’re dressed? Just wanna… gotta make sure you’re okay.”

He felt himself softening into a puddle of lovesick goop at the sight of Jack’s face, hopeful and sweet and uncharacteristically childlike. “Okay. Gimme a minute.”

Once he was sufficiently clean and covered, wearing the sanitary belt beneath his clothes with one of his father’s leather belts holding the too-baggy trousers ‘round his waist, David sunk to the floor once more and dropped his exhausted forehead against his knees. Silence. This was not how he’d expected his day to go. He beckoned Jack in and soon found himself sitting opposite the other boy, fixed with a look of concerned care. Their legs tangled together and Jack wrapped one warm hand around David’s ankle, searching his expression as if looking for something. Maybe finding his words. His hand glided up and down, skin pushing at the dark hairs there.

Eventually Jack settled on something. “You didn’t tell me.”

“No.” He looked down at his lap. “I thought you’d hate me. My family barely tolerates me, as it is… even Sarah doesn’t support this, and I’d been hoping that she’d be my person through it all. She thinks it’s some sort of abandonment, I think. Like I’m trying to be a man to get away from being a woman– like, to get the right to vote or own property or something– but that isn’t it at all. It’s just– people not wanting this version of me is all I’ve ever known. Les is the only one who’s kind about it. Him and Racetrack.”

Jack’s eyes widened and he pouted almost comically. “Wh– Racer found out before me?”

“Sure.” David couldn’t help his own teasing smile. “Remember back in August when we nearly got mugged in Brooklyn? We had to run back and I did my bandages too tight.”

“Bandages?”

Jack wasn’t attracted to him in any way whatsoever so David had no problem unbuttoning his own shirt and lifting his undershirt to show Jack the careful wrappings that kept his chest flat. He wanted to laugh at Jack’s awestruck impression, cheeks darkening beneath his tan and eyes wide. He was probably shocked by the idea that David had been selling papers for hours every single day in such restraints. 

“Keeps my chest flat.” David explained simply, smoothing his undershirt back down over his stomach. 

Jack swallowed hard. “Yep.”

“But sometimes I tie them too tight,” He continued, unable to stop blabbering around Jack. It was a bad habit, but Jack made him feel comfortable and listened to, which was a rare occurrence, so David had gotten into the routine of yammering endlessly whenever Jack was willing to listen. “Which is what I did that day. I was panicked and overheated and I just convinced myself I couldn’t breathe, even though I probably could’ve if I was calm. Race was great about it. He’s been great since then, of course. He’s always checking up on me. The other day–”

“I would never hate you.” Jack cut him off very suddenly and very intensely, his hand flexing where it still sat, now cupping the back of David’s calf, beneath his pant leg. “You’re… I dunno how, but you’ve become the person I go to for everything. I can’t lose that. Can’t lose you, I mean, Davey-mine.”

Struck by the sudden sincerity, David felt his chest flutter happily beneath the praise. He felt stupid and stripped of his words. “Oh. I… um… yes, I feel the same way, Jackie.”

Jack nodded, glancing over David’s posture. The way he was holding his cramping lower stomach, tight with pain, was probably obvious. But he didn’t care. Jack had seen enough already. And somehow, with an artist’s observational eye and a lover’s gentle attentiveness, Jack knew just what to do and slid his hand up to Davey’s knee. “What’s gonna make you feel less sick? Water? Smalls likes to bundle up and lay in bed, and I know Kath’s always craving salty food…”

“Honestly, um…” He glanced up at Jack, who was leaning in like he actually cared what David would say. David had already made one idiotic decision, and it had ended surprisingly well. He settled on a second one after careful deliberation, and cleared his throat. “I… can you play with my hair?”

A tiny smile took over Jack’s features. “‘Course I can. C’mere.”

Jack’s hands molded him like some sort of sculpture, guiding him to lay with his head pillowed upon Jack’s lap. David’s insides were screaming giddily as he relished in the coolness of the bathroom tile, Jack’s muscles firm and cotton-covered beneath him. Then those hands weaved their way into his hair and gently scraped against his scalp, and David was weak. Done for. Absolutely head over ass in love. 

It was easy to pretend, laying on that bathroom floor with Jack’s hands in his hair and his brown eyes carefully scanning over David’s face. It was easy to convince himself that maybe Jack loved as deeply as he did. To pretend that this would become a regular occurrence, that this was a lifetime in which he was Jack’s and Jack was his, and they weren’t lying on the water closet floor in a theater, but instead on a couch in an apartment of their own. In that world, David was comfortable and happy and his parents and Sarah loved him for it, and Jack loved him even harder. In that perfect, wonderful world, he got to be with Jack every morning. He had devotion and love and loneliness was a distant, unrecognizable beast.

This, though? It was halfway there. David was sure it was as close to heaven as he’d get in his lifetime, and he savored every second.