Chapter Text
Jack’s father sends him sour strings and a book on Greek myths in a care package the night before their first away game. All through the bus ride, Jack has his nose buried in the pages, blue and green and red candy twisting absently around his fingers and flopping out of his mouth. He keeps smacking his lips to get the sour crystals off, and they’re a distractingly bright pink. Kent cannot for the life of him look away.
It’s obvious. Of course it is, they’re crammed so close that their shoulders brush every time Jack turns a page. Jack doesn’t seem to mind though, so Kent keeps staring. He’s so focused on the book and Jack’s hands and Jack’s mouth but he almost misses when Jack addresses him, extending a hand with a few strips of candy.
“Do you want some?” he asks. Kent gapes. “Come on, don’t play like that. I know you’ve been trying to guilt trip me into sharing.”
“Oh, uh,” Kent takes the offered snack, skin snagging against Jack’s sugar-sticky fingers. “Thanks. You didn’t have to. I just - I was just...looking.” He can’t read how Jack interprets that, but it doesn’t seem to bother him, so Kent keeps glancing at Jack throughout the rest of the trip, and they suck on their candy in silence.
“Alright, pair up and come get your room keys,” the team manager, Andi, shouts over the rough housing and chirping going on in the hotel lobby.
“Wanna be my roadie-mate?” Kent asks, nudging Jack.
“Oh, uh. Sure.” He seems surprised to have been asked, probably expecting to pair off with whoever got chosen last. For all that Jack is a phenomenal hockey player, he’s a damn awkward kid. That’s fine with Kent though. He just needs to unpack ASAP. He’s bushed.
They retrieve their room keys and follow their teammates up in the elevator. Some of the guys go to hang out in a couple of the connected rooms, but Jack seems content to just go hole up in their room, which Kent is grateful for. Extended travel never sits well with him. Not enough air, not enough sun, not enough space.
As soon as Jack tosses his duffel on the bed closest to the door, Kent heads for the window to pull the curtains open and let in the light. Then he slings his backpack off his shoulder and pulls out the mason jar with his plant nestled in pebbles and dirt. He sets it on the window sill to catch the sunlight, and gently reaches into the jar to jostle the leaves and brush the dirt off. It feels good, even more so than shaking his limbs out in the parking lot had, a satisfying loosening of something in his chest, allowing his lungs to expand further, his spine to stand straighter. He heads to the bathroom and fills one of the plastic cups with cold water. A few splashes go into the jar with the succulent, and he drinks the rest down, soothing his dry throat and washing out the taste of stale bus air.
“You...brought a plant? On a roadie?” Jack asks. He’s pulling out a t-shirt and clean boxers from his neatly-folded bag.
“Oh...right, yeah. Um…” Kent shifts his weight, looks up to the ceiling fan, down to his sneakers. He can do this. He can do this. He can -
“Are you - do you need me to go get somebody? I -”
“No!” Jack’s eyes widen, and he startles back a step. Kent takes a breath, and manages with more composure, “No, no. I’m fine, really. I just...there’s something you should probably know if we’re going to be roommates. Um. It’s kind of why I asked you, I just feel like you might be...more receptive? Than some of the others maybe?”
“Ooookayyyyyy…” Jack looks suspicious, the set of his shoulders tight like he’s bracing himself to take a check.
“I’m a nymph.” Jack blinked at him.
“Excuse me, you’re a what?”
“I’m a nymph. Like, in the myth books? That plant is like...my soul? I guess you would call it?”
“You’re...a mythical creature. And you carry your soul around in a mason jar?”
“Yes. And, I mean, that’s most of it? Like, part of it is back in New York with my mom so I can like...pop back there when I get homesick, but yeah, that’s pretty much it right there. Straight chillin.” He huffs a laugh. Jack still looks kind of freaked out, but not like he thinks Kent is out of his mind. More like Kent has just tipped his world upside down and inside out by presenting himself as a magical being. “So...what’re ya thinking over there?”
“Honestly?”
“Yeah.”
“I had been expecting you to say you’re gay, so this is a bit of a mindfuck.” And that’s as good an invitation as any to get absolutely everything out there, and Jack doesn’t seem like he has a problem with the idea so...Kent decides to go for broke.
“Well...if it makes you feel better, a lot of nymphs are pansexual, me being one of them, so...you’re not totally wrong?” Jack laughs a little hysterically. “You okay?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. I mean...Cup magic is a thing, right? Or at least legends of it? So...this isn’t...too impossible to believe?”
“Alright, good. Wouldn’t want to break our starting center before game day.”
“Right,” Jack’s laugh sounds a little more natural this time around. He reaches into his bag again and retrieves his toothbrush and toothpaste. On his way to the bathroom, the smile falls off his face, and Kent can see him frowning in the mirror as he brushes, looking at his own reflection thoughtfully. Jack spits, closes the door, and a moment later, Kent hears the toilet flushing and the tap running. When Jack returns and starts turning down his bed, Kent hasn’t moved an inch, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Jack looks up from setting the bedside alarm and meets Kent’s eyes again.
“I’m bisexual.” It’s said quietly, but Jack’s expression begets no questioning. Kent feels as though he understands what is happening between them now. An exchange. An unburdening. Each of them has entrusted the other with a secret that can never be spoken outside this hotel room, but in this exchange they have each gained a confidant.