Imagine one of the crew waiting for their S.O. who has an away game (or business meetings, etc.) scheduled over the holidays.
When Bitty wakes, it’s to the void of night and too-cold sheets beside him. He reaches out for Jack’s warmth with one hand - which slowly curls into a fist as he remembers the Falconers are six hours away for the next ten days. Jack’s away often at this point in the season, their relationship consisting of short texts and snatched minutes of conversation. Jack’s never been away quite this close to Christmas before though, and there wasn’t time for all their usual traditions before he left.
Bitty curls himself up, all tight and small and safe, and if the pillow beneath his head is wet with tears before he drifts off again, no one else is there to see it.
The melancholy settles around his shoulders like a mist he can’t escape all week. He’s usually put up his Christmas tree and assorted decorations by now, but it feels wrong to do it when only he’s there to see them. Nursey covers the inside of Crumbs, Eric’s bakery, in all sorts of red and gold accessories. Bitty takes one look at them and confines himself to the kitchen for the next few days. He usually queues Christmas songs to play in the shop, but instead he puts on his acoustic playlist and loses himself in kneading and mixing and icing.
By the time Jack calls him on Thursday night, just as Bitty is almost asleep on the couch, Bitty is exhausted and heartsick. He always misses Jack, but now feels every mile of distance between them, a fierce ache right in the middle of his chest. It’s something to do with all the happy, shiny couples around him everywhere he looks, hands tangled and smiles beaming.
“Hey, you,” he says quietly as he picks up the phone.
“Hi, Bits. Sorry I haven’t had time to call.”
Bitty is about to say it’s okay, but then there’s something blocking his throat and his cheeks are hot, his eyes blurred with tears.
He tries again to speak. He only manages a trembling, shaking word that cuts off into a sob, and he has to press his hand against his heart.
Jack’s voice is impossibly gentle. “Baby, what is it?”
A tear drops from Bitty’s cheek onto his arm. “I’m being silly.”
“It sounds important to you.”
“I’m finding everything so hard this week.”
There’s silence on the line.
“I… god, honey, I miss you. And I always miss you, but it’s worse right now, because I keep thinking about us getting our tree and decorating it together, about baking those cookies you always manage to burn. It’s stupid, right? I mean, you’re home in a few days so we can just do it all then. I just… want you here with me.”
Jack’s next words shake. “I wish I was there with you.”
Bitty closes his eyes, feels the burn of fresh tears across his cheeks. “You will be soon, baby. Just gotta hang on.”
When they hang up, Bitty feels worse than ever. He doesn’t even bother with the bed that night; just crams himself into their overstuffed couch and falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The next few days pass as slow as molasses. Jack is too caught up with training and games to do more than send a few short texts, and Bitty can feel the apology in every one of them.
By Monday, Bitty’s on autopilot mode. He heads in to the bakery and ignores the way everyone tries to fuss over him. On his drive home, he resolutely doesn’t look at the tree farm that’s almost empty. When he turns on his TV, he changes channels until he finds one without any Christmas commercials. Jack is home on Thursday - December 22nd. He just has to survive until then.
Wednesday is plain awful. He burns himself on an oven for the first time in years, right on the back of his hand, and the sting of it is present every time he flexes his fingers. There’s a rush of customers in the half-hour period between Lardo’s shift ending and Dex coming in, so Eric has to run himself ragged doing the register, serving food and the drinks. Just as Eric is about to close, a couple come in and order hot chocolates, chatting to him about how it’s their first Christmas together. Their bodies are close the whole time, like there’s a magnetic pull between them that neither wants to fight, and the sudden rush of jealousy is like ashes in Bitty’s mouth.
After he closes the bakery for the night, he trudges to his car and makes the short drive home. The porch light is butter-yellow in the twilight evening, but he’s sure he didn’t leave it on.
He enters the house and reaches for the light switch. Before his fingers make contact, he sees a twinkle of lights reflected in the hardwood floor. He makes his way slowly toward them, his mind too tired to make any sense of it.
When he turns the corner, he sees Jack. There’s a tree dotted with lights, but Bitty only has eyes for Jack.
“Bits,” Jack says, so softly, and Eric’s crying before he even feels Jack’s arms wrap around him. He burrows into the warmth of Jack’s body, lets it fill up all those places inside him that have felt empty since Jack left. He hears Jack talk about a redeye flight and Lardo, but he barely listens.
Instead he closes his eyes and squeezes his arms around Jack’s middle tighter. The lights shine like stars behind his eyelids. “I love you.”
Jack’s kiss is feather-light. “So much, Bits. So much.”
ITH Holiday Special 2016 Posts
janainaart
titsay
yousharknotpass
pixelskylines
germansingergirl
ellievsbear
snowghoul
discoholicmusic
jbbartram-illu
andulkaphoto
