Chapter Text
Jim set the notebook down on the desk and inhaled deeply. There was a dull sound filling his ears as his eyes flicked across the words he just read.
It was an accident, really.
He'd walked in here because Spock had asked him to pick up some PADD reports from his personal quarters and Jim had done just that. Unfortunately, as he was reaching for the PADDs on Spock's table, his clumsy self accidentally knocked over a set of books and journals.
Spock valued his privacy a great deal and Jim knew this, usually respected this. Usually.
But one of the notebooks he'd knocked over had opened face up to what looked like handwritten poetry. The journal seemed well-loved, well cared for. Each page seemed to contain some of Spock's perfect curled writing that Jim could look at all day. He would read gibberish if Spock wrote it because it was so beautiful, so enchanting. He couldn't remember exactly when he first saw Spock's handwriting. He just knew that it was wonderful.
He was drawn to the notebook and picked it up, sifting through the pages until one word caught his eyes.
Jim.
Him.
And so he read it, read the long beautiful poem and now his heart was twisting into itself and his legs felt weak. His head was spinning.
Spock loved him.
Spock loved him.
Jim had come to terms with his own feelings for his first officer more than half a year ago. And he brushed them aside, promising himself that he would only be Spock's friend and nothing more in the interest of their blooming friendship. They'd gotten really close during this five-year mission and practically spent all hours together in some form or another.
But this poem made Spock seem like a stranger, only because of the way he talked about Jim. Jim, like he was some otherworldly deity or artwork, something untouchable when in fact they were always together, always within a few feet of each other.
And Jim, oblivious, had thought this whole time it was the other way around.
That Spock was a star unknown, a nebula he would never be able to explore. Because...well, Spock was Spock.
He was amazing, talented, brilliant. A clever otter, a leader, a scientist with endless curiosity.
It was so strange how Spock seemed to see Jim, as if there was only beauty in the captain instead of what there actually was. Jim had never considered himself ugly or a bad person or anything, but he'd never exactly seen himself as desirable. He understood he had gaping flaws and issues, like any person.
But it was like Spock saw him as this entirely beautiful creature, this mural composed of a thousand different shades of light. He was...he was loved.
It was such a warm, wonderful feeling to see the answers written out in such beautiful calligraphy.
Each word had its own nuance and Jim felt that he could feel the emotions poured into each letter, hear Spock's voice as he read it over and over again.
And he couldn't stop reading it. There was so much to unpack here, so much to go over.
Spock was hurting, drowning in dark thoughts that had consumed his very soul. Here Spock was, suffering silently as he thought Jim didn't love him. Spock would've spent the rest of his life loving Jim from a distance, and that thought alone was absolutely heartbreaking.
There was a common conception that Vulcans were cold and unfeeling, but this couldn't be further from the truth. They felt so much. Their emotions were like lightning in a bottle, fire kept packed away in a tight little space.
And Spock was no exception.
The poor Vulcan...his poor Vulcan.
Each line was so painful to read, like daggers twisting in his gut.
Spock was an angel.
And his own insecurities clipped his wings.
A jagged, broken beauty.
A star lost in the sea of space, surrounded by inky darkness that was slowly swallowing him up.
How could Spock possibly think he didn't love him?
How?
He loved Spock more than the volume of the universe.
His heart had skipped at the many 'I love you's written in Spock's handwriting.
It was beautiful, and yet so sad.
This poem was so lovely and so lonely.
Spock's heart was bleeding out over these ivory pages and Jim just wanted to wrap him up and keep him in his pocket, hold him until the pain subsided and there was no more insecurity or doubt in Spock's mind that Jim loved him.
"Captain?"
The voice pulled him from his reverie and suddenly he looked up and Spock was standing in the doorway, eyes wide as he registered what was in Jim's hand.
There was a moment of silence before everything exploded.
"Spock I know you're confused and upset-"
"Jim, please, whatever you have read-"
"But it's okay, it's totally okay because-"
"I was-was silly, please hand me the notebook-"
"I understand that you need to write down your feelings-"
"Please hand me the notebook," Spock stated sharply. Jim would've found it intimidating if he didn't hear the tremble in his voice. Spock took several steps closer, slow steps until they were only a few feet apart.
Reluctantly, Jim handed him the notebook, open to the poem he'd been reading.
Spock looked down and recognized the title, his eyes widening in horror. He didn't even try to hide it.
The Vulcan opened his mouth to say something, but all words were stolen.
His lips quivered in that very human way that signaled tears were close.
In one moment, Spock ripped the pages from the notebook, letting the little leather-bound book fall to floor, and tore them in half.
"No!" Jim gasped out. "What are you doing?"
Spock continued to tear the pages until they were just torn fragments floating to the floor like snow.
"Spock," Jim's voice was thin and hollow.
He wanted to reach out, but Spock was already gone with the swish of the door closed.
Jim knelt on the floor, scrambling to pick up the ripped pieces of that beautiful poem. He held them close to his chest, though some pieces slid right through his fingers back onto the floor.
Spock couldn't breathe. His heart was hammering against his chest and his mind was spinning. His body carried him automatically to the science labs. He slipped into the unused rooms, which were dark and vacant. This couldn't be real. This was a horrible, horrible nightmare and he would wake up and everything would be okay.
Poetry had started as somewhere to put his thoughts when he was a boy and from there, he used it to let out his emotions healthily. That notebook was full of poems of Jim and the wanting he felt for his captain. He had written down his feelings a hundred times but the feelings would just not go away. So he continued to write them down, hoping to Surak that they would dissolve into the ink on the page.
His love for his captain seemed unending, a constantly growing rose bush with the sharpest thorns. His sanctuary had turned out to be his true curse.
If only he had never written down the poem, if only he had kept it inside of him, to fester and rot until it was nothing.
But the temptation to let his heart speak had been overwhelming. Now there was only pain and panic.
Spock's ears were ringing, his blood boiling in panic. He was breathing heavily, as if his lungs couldn't suck in enough air. He paced along the floor in circles until his legs felt weak and he sunk to the floor.
The one true friendship he had attained, the one person who made him feel complete, made him feel...right...it was all ruined now. Jim would be disgusted with him, and the look across his face would be that of a stranger's. Spock saw a glimpse of it when he had caught Jim reading the poetry.
The one look squeezed his heart tightly. It flooded him with the worst feeling ever, the most sickening, horrible feeling.
He had failed Jim. He had failed himself and all Vulcans.
All he wanted was for Jim to be happy and now, there was nothing but pain in his eyes. Jim should have never known the truth, should have never found his first officer's secret love of him.
He had failed.
Hot tears began rolling down his cheeks, much to his shame and disgust, but they wouldn't stop. They were endless as if his own grief could drown him.
Jim went to search for Spock immediately, knowing that he would no doubt be thinking the worst of the situation. Poor Spock, he was all alone and under the impression that Jim didn't love him, which couldn't be further from the truth. Jim loved everything about Spock, from the light flickering in his eyes to the involuntary tap of his foot when he was impatient. All of these little moments with Spock were perfect in their mundanity, and for anyone else it was nothing special. For Jim, it was everything.
Those moments revealed little fragments of Spock and who he truly was under those mile-high walls. He was soft and gentle and sweet and funny and a little bit of a neat freak and really liked tea and a good pair of socks to keep his feet warm and there was a kindness in him that had not been loved for too long.
The world had been cruel to Spock, but now Jim was here.
Jim was here and he wouldn't let Spock face anything alone.
Jim knew exactly where Spock would be right now, the only place that was empty during this time: the science labs.
More often than not, Spock would spend his free time in the science labs anyway. It was like a second home to him.
When in doubt, Spock always threw himself into science. Science had never doubted him.
Jim walked into the science labs as the doors swooshed open, squinting in the sudden darkness. There wasn't a single light on, so it was hard to see.
He was starting to doubt that Spock was here until he heard a choked sniffle and a quiet gasp for air.
Jim quietly moved past some of the stations and tables until he could see Spock, sitting on the floor in the corner, crying as his hands moved to wipe the tears away. He was bathed in starlight from the viewscreen that stretched against the back wall and looked beautiful as ever, but the sight was so heartbreaking.
Oh, it was so heartbreaking.
Jim rushed to him immediately, but still cautiously so as not to scare or overwhelm him more. Spock finally noticed Jim was here and gasped.
"Captain...I am sorry," He choked out brokenly, "I am s-so sorry...I tried-"
Jim's warm hand cupped his cheek as he sat in front of him. "No, I'm sorry, Spock. This is all my fault. I love you so much."
Spock's eyes widened just as Jim's lips pressed against his. For a moment, Jim thought maybe he miscalculated such a move, but then a trembling hand wrapped around his neck and the world shimmered like a new dawn breaking along the horizon. The kiss was gentle and soft, questioning and eager all at once, Jim felt more tears run down Spock's cheeks and Jim only brushed them away.
"I love you so much," Jim whispered, his eyes misty because when Spock cried, he was overwhelmed by the sad sight and wanted to cry.
Spock sniffed, but his hands remained around Jim's neck. "I love you too," He whispered after a moment. Jim pulled him close, holding him tight as Spock cried softly in his arms, partly from the remaining panic in his heart and the utter relief he felt as Jim rubbed his back, kissing his neck and shoulder softly.
Spock was exhausted from the emotional display and all of these revelations, and with Jim's steady hand rubbing his back and the way he subconsciously rocked him, he fell asleep.
Jim carried him back to his quarters and helped him out of shoes and uniform shirt and took off his own clothes before wrapping Spock up and falling asleep by his side. He was beautiful, asleep like this, Jim thought as he brushed a finger along his ebony hair. The Vulcan purred gratefully at the touch and Jim only pulled him closer, kissing his head. All of the pain of earlier was forgotten and now there was only this. The warmth of two people utterly in love and wrapped up in each other.
There was the promise of a thousand more nights like this and the hope of infinite tomorrows.