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Bitty can hear the song the moment he steps in the door. The haus is empty, save for one person, clearly. Bitty has a hunch as to who it is.
Slowly ascending the stairs, Bitty takes pause in Jack’s doorway, where the music is pouring out. He’s packing again, and Bitty hates it. Jack and Shitty (but mostly Jack) graduating is taking a toll on Bitty that he didn’t really expect it to. He feels a lump rising in his throat as he watches Jack strip all traces of himself out of this room, out of this haus, Samwell, this town. It feels like it’s all happening too fast for Bitty’s liking. In a few days Chowder will start moving his stuff in, the stuff he’s not taking back to California with him for the summer, because this room will be his come September. As much as Bitty adores Chowder, something about that doesn’t sit well with him. He wonders if it ever will. Will it ever stop feeling like Jack has unfinished business here? That Bitty has unfinished business with Jack? More unanswerable questions.
Jack’s singing along to the song, his voice a rich, warm baritone that makes Bitty’s toes curl pleasantly. Bitty idly wonders if Bob sings like this too, or if maybe Alicia is even more talented than he knew. Bitty wonders if Jack sings often, what kinds of songs he loves the most. Bitty never took Jack for a Ray Charles fan, and yet.
Bitty’s longing to know more, about the singing, about Jack’s thoughts and his dreams, about him. Just, Jack. It’s been two years and in some ways Jack still feels like a stranger. But in other ways, in most ways, he feels like someone Bitty doesn’t want to let go of just yet, or ever. Bitty’s never really strayed too close, afraid of getting hurt, letting himself feel things that he knows are bubbling just under the surface. But this year, this semester, things have felt…different, more, somehow. It feels like they’re drifting closer and farther apart at the same time, ships anchored in harbour rocking with the sea. Their friendship was always tentative, fragile, but the last few months have made it feel more and more solid, sturdy, sure. Graduation feels like a setback.
Bitty doesn’t realize he’s been caught staring until he feels the intensity of Jack’s blue eyes boring into his own. There’s a sheepish smile on Jack’s lips and a flustered blush on his cheeks, Bitty wants to compliment his singing, to tell him he looks good when he’s at ease.
Instead, Jack tentatively reaches out a hand, a silent question that, to Bitty, only has one acceptable answer. Accepting the proffered hand, Bitty is pulled into Jack’s space, the comfortable circle of his arm, as Jack leads them in a slow sway, circling leisurely to the crooning ballad. Bitty breathes easy, the comforting weight of Jack’s hand at his lower back, he lowers his forehead to Jack’s chest and rests there, breathing deeply. Jack seems to follow the motion, resting his cheek on top of Bitty’s head. Jack’s still singing under his breath, Bitty can feel it, Jack’s chest humming against his cheek. It feels nice, safe, intimate, right. Bitty doesn’t let himself linger on that for too long.
The song plays on and eventually fades away into nothing, nothing but the sound their calm breathing and shuffling footsteps. Slowly, but not unkindly, they both separate from their embrace. Bitty feels his mouth curve into a melancholic smile. He already misses Jack, and he’s standing right there.
Jack opens his mouth partially, then pauses. He tries again.
“I should finish packing.” Is what comes out of his mouth. Bitty feels his smile tighten.
“Right, sure,” Bitty retreats slightly, pausing in the doorway. “You have a lovely voice.” Bitty says softly, giving Jack one parting glance.
“You’re a good dance partner.” Jack says, almost as an afterthought, almost like he doesn’t want Bitty to leave. Bitty doesn’t let himself think that.
Giving a genuine grin, small, with rosy cheeks and all, Bitty slips out of Jack’s room and into his own, closing the door with a soft click.
A silent beat passes before the first tear escapes. Bitty exhales shakily, leaning against his door. Another beat. Then, he hears it, softer this time, Georgia on My Mind starts to play. Jack sings along, and Bitty breathes.
_X_
Jack sighs as he starts plucking things off the walls, emptying out sock drawers, packing away knick knacks. It feels so strange, the haus has been a home for so long. It feels wrong to leave. It feels like the last thread of connection between him and this place, this life, this happiness, is being cut.
He puts Georgia on My Mind on, not letting himself dwell on the song selection too much. He’s been listening to it more and more as the semester began drawing to a close. He wrote his last exam last week, Shitty’s writing his last one right now. This whole week has felt like a dream, not real, not quite actuality. He feels like he’s forgetting something, though he can’t place his finger on what.
Jack sings along to the song, lowly, trying to focus on wrapping spare newspaper around his more valuable knick knacks–a little ceramic hockey stick from Lardo (a jokey gift for his birthday last year), a Sharks snow globe from Chowder (a “thanks for the dibs” gift), and a framed photo strip from a trip to the beach. Jack remembers this trip fondly, it was one of the highlights of his senior year. They skipped out a day early before reading week to get one day with as much of the team as they could before everyone went off to do their own thing for the break. The photo booth had just been a bonus. Jack smiled crookedly, thumb running along the plain black frame, each photo reminding Jack of something he’s glad he has preserved in this way; Ransom and Holster with Lardo smushed between them, laughing at something Jack can’t recall; Shitty holding Chowder bridal-style, with a clip-on bowtie and Chowder with a headband veil and all; Dex and Nursey wearing ridiculous pool floaties and stoic faces–Jack remembers them breaking character two seconds after the flash went off; and Bitty, soft sun-kissed Bitty, with freckles across his nose and dotting his shoulders, soft pink high on his cheekbones, perched on Jack in a piggyback. It had been a good day.
Lots of Jack’s good days have been with Bitty. More and more often, so it would seem. Jack studies the tiny photo-Bitty wishing he could put words to the feelings he has. It feels like half-formed thoughts, like maybe he’s sadder to leave Bitty behind than he thought he would be. Their friendship has certainly changed, and Jack is grateful that he let Bitty, a ray of simple sunshine, into his life. He’s never felt as good as with Bitty by his side, as a line mate and as a friend. That’s a new realization. Jack folds the picture delicately, double wrapping it just to be sure.
Still singing lowly, Jack turns to put the last knick knack into the almost-full box, startling only a little to see real-life Bitty standing in his doorway. He hadn’t heard him come in at all. Jack smiles sheepishly, feeling caught off-guard.
Bitty just smiles softly, in the way Bitty often does, but there’s something sad behind his eyes, something Jack can’t decipher. Jack could feel his heart constrict at the idea of Bitty being sad over anything. To Jack, Bitty deserves every ounce of sunshine and sugary-sweet kindness in double of all that he puts out into the world.
If you were to ask Jack why he extends his hand, he wouldn’t be able to say, even he’s unsure of why he does it, only knowing that it feels like the right choice in the moment.
Jack has a flicker of panic at how silly this might seem, but Bitty, sweet and open-hearted Bitty, takes his hand with near no hesitation. Jack breathes easy as he pulls Bitty in close to the circle of his arm, guiding them in a slow sway, circling leisurely to the crooning ballad.
Bitty tips his forehead to rest on Jack’s chest, and Jack feels the last of his nerves melt away, relaxing into the embrace and resting his cheek on top of Bitty’s golden locks. They tickle at his nose, but he doesn’t mind. Bitty’s hair smells like peaches and cinnamon. Jack continues singing lowly under his breath, closing his eyes and letting himself feel the warmth of Bitty beneath his hands, the gentle easiness of it all, the comfort, the intimacy, the safety, the rightness of it all. Jack can’t place what this feels like, but he knows he likes it. It feels good to feel this way, good in a way Jack can’t remember ever feeling.
The song plays on and eventually fades away into nothing, nothing but the sound their calm breathing and shuffling footsteps. Jack feels the tension slip back into the air. Slowly, but not unkindly, him and Bitty release from their embrace, the air between them feeling so much further than it ever had. Bitty’s mouth curves into a melancholic smile, and Jack returns it and feels the distance farther still. He already misses Bitty, and he’s standing right there.
Jack opens his mouth partially, then pauses. He tries again.
“I should finish packing.” Is what comes out of his mouth. Bitty’s smile gets stiffer, and Jack frowns to himself. That’s not what he wanted to say, though what he wanted to say…Jack’s not sure he knows just yet.
“Right, sure,” Bitty retreats slightly, pausing in the doorway. “You have a lovely voice.” Bitty says softly, giving Jack one parting glance. Jack feels Bitty’s words and his gaze all over, in his throat, in his stomach, in his heart. It’s a startling realization, though not as startling as he might’ve thought it would be–he’d do most anything to make Bitty happy.
“You’re a good dance partner.” Jack says suddenly. He doesn’t want Bitty to go, he wants to take him into his arms again and bring back to lightness and comfort and ease of their dance. He wants Bitty to smile at him like he means it. He’s not saying what he means to say, but he hasn’t found the words yet. Doesn’t know if he ever will. Bitty makes him a bit stupid, sometimes, brain a little mushy, head a little foggy, heart a little quicker. It’s a new sensation, but Jack finds it pleasant all the same.
Bitty gifts him with a genuine grin, small, with rosy cheeks and all, as he slips out of Jack’s room and into his own, closing the door with a soft click. Jack feels his shoulders sag.
He fidgets, fingers clicking and twitching, he contemplates knocking on Bitty’s door just to talk to him some more, maybe to tie up whatever loose ends need to be tied before he goes. Maybe he’s hoping to find the words he’s searching for in Bitty’s warm, brown eyes. He fidgets more.
He has two days until he graduates, two days until he says goodbye to this place, this room, this home, for good. Hopefully he figures out what he needs to say in the meantime. So Jack refrains.
Instead, Jack breathes in slowly. He starts Georgia on My Mind over again, and he keeps packing.