Chapter Text
The house was dark when David got home that night. It wasn’t as if he’d expected anything different, and he realized with a pang that he hadn’t even been hoping for anything. It was almost a relief to realize that Jack had forgotten or ignored their anniversary again. David put his jacket on the peg and dropped his keys in the bowl, where they landed on top of a pair of wedding rings that hadn't adorned their fingers for months.
It had all started out so idealistically. They had fallen in love so hard, so quickly. They had been so deeply, painfully, insanely devoted to one another. Their wedding had come only six months after their first date.
David couldn’t even remember how it had fallen apart. He couldn’t put a finger on any one moment and blame it for everything that came after. The truth was, neither of them had done anything wrong at first. They just… stopped talking. Then they stopped touching. Then it seemed like every word became a jab, every gaze a glare.
They didn’t even fight that much. There was no screaming, just this feeling of building pressure that it seemed would never be released. There was no hatred for one another, just an all-consuming apathy. That almost hurt worse.
And the night David had found the texts on Jack’s phone, he’d almost been relieved. It was clear from the communication that Jack hadn’t done anything physical with the person on the other end, not yet anyway. But maybe if there was someone else, then Jack would finally just go. Maybe they could both move on from this huge mistake they’d made together.
As for David, he didn’t want anyone else, and he didn’t want the man before him either. Mostly he wanted to finally breathe. A small part of him that he wouldn’t acknowledge just wanted the Jack he’d married. The passionate, cocky, loud-mouthed ass he’d fallen in love with. That man had turned into a tired, bitter, empty shell that David didn’t recognize.
David climbed the stairs and hesitated in front of the bedroom door before deciding to sleep in the guest room. He just… he couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t lay next to Jack as if they were happy and in love. He couldn’t listen to the breathing of the stranger next to him, not anymore.
He heard Jack in the master bathroom and hurried down the hall to the guest room. He didn’t want to even look at him right now. He couldn’t handle the awkward silence or the pretending they cared about each other’s days.
There on the guest room bed, as if Jack had known David would sleep there, were the papers he had known would eventually come. Whether he or Jack had been the one to initiate the process, it was going to happen. He sat down and began to thumb through them. He should probably get a lawyer to look at these before he signed them. He wasn’t sure how any of this worked.
He let out a long sigh of relief when he saw Jack had already signed. Soon, this would be over.
&&&
Jack stood in front of the mirror for ages. He didn’t recognize the man staring back at him. He felt like he couldn’t feel anything.
It wasn’t Davey’s fault, he thought. As much as it had initially hurt when Davey grew cold towards him, Jack understood. He had become a difficult man to love. But then, Davey hadn’t tried all that hard, had he? All those promises they made about better or worse. Worse had crept in unexpectedly, with no reason or justification, and they hadn’t been prepared. They had foolishly believed their love was insurmountable and it would always be that easy. There was nothing easy about it.
He heard the front door close downstairs. David was home. Jack took a long, deep breath. He didn’t know how to look Davey in the eyes and hand him the divorce papers. His plan was to ask Davey to sleep in the other room, where he would find the papers waiting for him. It was cruel, he knew, to do this on their anniversary. But it was the anniversary itself which had made him sure he couldn’t do this for another year. It had to end.
He heard David stop outside the bedroom door and then walk on, and he felt relief crash through him. He wouldn’t have to see David tonight, wouldn’t have to look at him and try in vain to see the young man he’d fallen in love with. That man, full of passion and affection, didn’t live in this house. Hadn’t for years.
Jack wandered to the bed that suddenly seemed too big and sat down, picking up his buzzing phone. More texts from her. The beautiful woman who’d appeared at his gallery showing, who had bought his favorite piece and who couldn’t stop telling him how talented and handsome he was.
He tried to remember the last time David had taken an interest in his art or his body. He couldn’t recall.
Jack’s heart warmed at her latest text, filled with the attention and adoration he had been starving for. He smiled and began to craft his response. Maybe when all this was over, he could start again with her.
Didn’t matter if it was her or anyone else, really. He knew that. Anyone who had offered him a drop of affection would have had him as much as this woman had him. He couldn’t live in this emptiness void of love any longer. He wouldn’t.
She said something that reminded him of David when they were younger, and he felt a pang in his heart. An ache for the young men they had been, the intensity of love they had shared. He shook the feeling away. That love was gone. It couldn’t be reclaimed, it was time to move on.
&&&
A week passed, and David still hadn’t signed the papers. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to. He had sat down, pen in hand, a dozen times. The page was marked up with little dots where he had pressed the pen insistently and determinedly against it before pulling his shaking hand away. He was so angry. Why couldn’t he just do this? Why couldn’t he put this dead thing out of it’s misery?
He would get the courage, he was sure. He just needed a little more time. It was the comfort of familiarity, he was sure, that was keeping him from ending this. The fear of the future. There were no strings left holding him to Jack Kelly, just a last name and the unwillingness to accept change.
David was sitting in the kitchen poking microwaved leftovers around his plate when Jack wandered in. They both stiffened, a little uncomfortable at being in the same room. This was something they carefully avoided whenever they could.
Jack went to the fridge and reached in with paint-covered hands.
Davey made a noise of disgust. “Could you not wash your hands before touching the food?”
He saw Jack purse his lips but ignore him, pulling the milk out and drinking straight from the jug. When he put it back, splotches of paint decorated the handle. Davey groaned quietly and looked back at his food.
“You signed those papers yet?” Jack asked coldly.
David shook his head. “Still looking over them.” That was a lie. He’d looked over them a million times, and the terms were reasonable. Neither of them wanted the house, so they would sell it and split the profit. Jack would keep his art profits, David would get the car. It was pretty straightforward.
Jack let out a frustrated breath. “Yeah, okay,” and stomped out of the room.
The exchange was brief, but exhausting. David slammed a fist down on the table, shaking it and the food in front of him. What would it take for him to just get it over with?
At the exact moment David had resolved to go back upstairs and sign those damn divorce papers, he heard Jack’s phone ring from the living room. Probably that damned woman again. Jack no longer even tried to hide it, they spoke every day.
“Yeah,” Jack answered.
Davey knew he shouldn’t listen in, but he did anyway.
There was a long silence, and then the abrupt sound of something shattering. David jumped up and ran into the living room, ready to yell and curse. Jack was sitting on the couch, clearly in shock, and there was glass from their coffee table on the floor and in his shaking hand.
Jack didn’t look up at him as he dropped the phone. “It… it was Crutchie. Smalls was in an accident.”
David went cold.