Chapter Text
Samwell was a good college. Good reputation, nice teachers, great sports facilities. Part of the reason why Shitty chose it, really.
What convinced him though, was what kept his other old classmates away. The rumor of 1 in 4.
Shitty had longed his whole preppy shit life to be in a place where nobody gave a shit about what you did, where you came from, who you loved. It was perfect. He was going to get so many friends he could support the shit out of.
But what people didn’t know about Samwell’s rumor of 1 in 4 was that it didn’t really count the sports teams. Sure, about half the women’s volley team weren’t straight but it was different for them because heteronormative society standards made it perfectly okay for women to be gay because it looked like they were just great gal pals, or it was considered hot. (Shitty was not going to get into the whole fetishizing of LGBTQ+ women because that would take weeks—).
But for the men’s sports teams at Samwell, it was a different story. So far, to his knowledge, if he thought about it for a second, only one of the guys from the basketball team was bisexual but other than that everyone was straight. Or at least not out (Jack was a special case).
It wasn’t that the sports teams were homophobic. Not exactly. It was just a different crowd. It was like the toxic masculinity and fear of not being taken seriously hadn’t left the locker rooms or sports fields no matter how accepting the school culture was. All the out guys and girls were just regular people you saw in classes, passing by in the library. Not your teammates.
Shitty did not realize that until twenty minutes ago. Which made him want to turn his fucking brain inside out.
He always thought that because of Samwell’s LGBTQ+ friendly rumor, if one of his teammates weren’t straight, they would have come out eventually, only waiting because they weren’t ready, but never waiting because they were scared.
He could see now how his logic was flawed.
As if on cue, Shitty was shaken out of his thought when Bitty threw up again.
He clutched his teammate's shoulders and whispered: “It’s okay, Bitty, you’re okay.”
Because it was all he could do.
≡
8 days ago
Christmas break was a turd.
Shitty swore that if he had to live through one more goddamn family dinner, he would walk back to Samwell. Right now, he was out on the balcony of his parents’ home, smoking a not-so-secret blunt his mom found in his suitcase and confiscated. Good thing he knew she hid them in her medicine cabinet. New years was two days ago so everything he had been home for was over and he was ready to get the fuck out of here and back to the Haus.
He was scrolling through Instagram when his phone rang. He smiled as he blew smoke through his nose, pressing ‘accept call’.
“C! What’s up, my dude, happy New Years. To what do I owe the pleasure?” he said, happy to mentally leave his parents' house for a few minutes.
Chowder spoke almost immediately. “Hi, Shitty! Happy New Years! Uhm well, I kinda need your help? Maybe? I don’t know, I’m confused.”
His goalie was adorable. “Anything, brah, just tell me.” Shitty said, taking another drag.
A happy sigh came from the other end. “Okay, so you know how I told you I was gonna go back to Samwell a couple of days early because my parents were going on that trip?” Chowder said. Even after he had been on the team for half a year already, he was still nervous about calling Shitty. It was so cute Shitty wanted to crush the goalie with love like he was a sixty year old woman and Chowder was a half blind pug in a stroler.
“Yeah, you in your dorm now?” Shitty threw the bud of the finished blunt in the nearest trashcan and leaned back on the railing. The cold night air traveled down his spine as he relaxed into a decent high, lowering his shoulders for what felt like the first time since he got here.
“Yeah, I am. But uhm. Shitty, do you know when Bitty was supposed to come back?” Chowder said, voice still nervous.
Shitty frowned. Something was off, he could feel it in his left toe. That fucker always called it. “On Sunday. He said he would catch a plane Saturday night because it was cheaper. Why? Do you need him? You have his number, don’t ya?”
“Well uhm yeah I do, but he’s already here.”
What? “What?”
It was Thursday today.
“He’s not in Georgia?” Shitty said when Chowder was silent.
“No, he’s at the Haus.” Chowder said as he set off in a rant, barely breathing in between sentences. “I was gonna use the key you guys gave me because I concentrate better on homework at the Haus, so I thought you guys wouldn’t mind me being there while I waited for you to come back, you know?” The kid had been so awkwardly happy when he and Jack had given that key. He mostly used it when he needed a place to crash between classes, but Chowder doing his homework at the Haus was still pretty much a weekly thing. “But when I got there the door was unlocked and I thought Oh no someone broke in! Right? So I walked in and I couldn’t see anything missing or broken, so I decided to investigate and check the rooms. And then Bitty was there, in his room, napping! And I was so excited that I sort of screamed on accident and woke him up, but he didn’t look very happy—I mean, he tried? I think? But it wasn't very convincing—and he said he got in last night and then he told me he was really tired from the flight, so I went back to my dorm and called you!”
Shitty blinked. He may be too high for this. “Huh.” He stood up and walked over to push the balcony door all the way shut, before sliding down the wall beside it. His mom liked to eavesdrop. “Did he say why he was home so early?”
Bitty would have called him. Or texted him, at least. Or Holster and Ransom. Even Jack, maybe.
Chowder was quiet for a moment and Shitty could see him in his head thinking his question over with a pout. “No? Not really.” he said slowly. “He just said he caught an early flight. But this is really early, right? He was being weird, he didn’t even get out of bed when I came!”
That was weird. Bitty usually crushed all of them, especially Chowder, in chokingly tight hugs.
Putting his phone on speaker Shitty searched up flight hours. He had been waiting for an excuse to come home early and this did sound weird, so damn right he was going to take this chance of escaping. “Weird how? Like, I-haven’t-slept-in-eighty-fucking-hours-and-if-I-don’t-sleep-I’ll-kill-the-whole-neighborhood kinda weird, or I’m-hiding-things-because-I-think-I-can-deal-with-shit-on-my-own-but-I-clearly-can’t kinda weird?”
“Uhm.” There was a pause. “Both? Maybe?”
Shitty brushed two fingers over his mustache as he bought his ticket. “Alright Chow, we have a Code Red, I’ll be there tomorrow at three-ish. Make sure he stays hydrated as fuck, but don’t coddle him! He’ll turn into a turtle, I tell ya.”
Chowder let out a relieved sigh but then paused. “… A turtle?”
“Gonna retract that southern beauty of a neck into his hard manly shell until he dies.”
“Oh. Okay, call me when you get here!”
“Will do, Chowdy. You did good, thanks for calling me, man.”
Shitty could practically hear the boy blush. “Oh, thanks Shitty, it was nothing, really.”
“Nah brah, it was class A teammate behavior, nice job, dude. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
≡
Chowder was taking math notes and finishing his fourth glass of apple juice when he heard the front door bust open.
"Hellooooo beautiful people! Guess who escaped hell early?"
Chowder stood up from his chair and ran out of the kitchen. "Shitty!" He blurted, a little too loud perhaps but it didn't matter because Shitty grabbed him nonetheless and pulled him into a crushing hug that quickly turned into a headlock and a noogie.
"How you doing, C? Been good?" Shitty said, smothering his hair one last time before letting him go from his grip.
Chowder nodded enthusiastically, taking a step back when his head turned towards the stairs.
Bitty was standing on the last step, bed hair and a bright, soft smile. For a single second Shitty shot Chowder an unreadable look before he gave him a gentle push to the side to make his way over to his other teammate.
"Bitty, you absolute cutie, what do you have to look so soft and comfortable for?" He grinned, seamlessly putting on his unfazed-unworried-totally-cool-everything-is-normal-face as he picked Bitty up by the waist.
Bitty squeaked. "Shitty Knight! Put me down if you know what's good for you." There was a playful bite in his tone and Shitty chuckled before putting him down.
Chowder watched from the couch. He felt the knot in his stomach unfold steadily. He had been uncertain whether or not to call Shitty but now that he was here, he knew he made the right choice. Chowder had always been calmer with Shitty nearby because the senior just always seemed to have everything under control. Shitty would know what to do with Bitty.
Shitty gave Bitty the same ruffle of his hair he had given Chowder. "What's got you back so early, brah? It's good to see you, don't get me wrong—"
"Oh you know, cheap flights and stuff.” Bitty shied away under his gaze but still managed to plaster a nervous but believable smile on his face. “My parents had some plans and I was missing the Haus anyway."
He had been doing that move the whole time Chowder had been at the Haus and it hadn't yet stopped his stomach from turning. But he had to give it to Bitty, he was good at being okay. After yesterday, when Chowder had burst in on Bitty napping, it had been clear that he 1) hadn't expected anyone to come home anytime soon, and 2) looked like he was on the brink of passing out (and not only from lack of sleep). It hadn't taken long for him to shoo Chowder out of the room with a weak excuse of a long flight and lack of sleep that didn't really explain his red eyes, but Chowder left anyway.
But when he had returned today, relaxed with the reassuring fact that Shitty would arrive in a couple of hours, he hadn't exactly expected freshly baked pie.
"Hi, there honey! Sorry I was such a zombie yesterday, flying really puts me to sleep." Bitty had said when he greeted him in the door, bright smile, an apron around his waist and flour on his cheek.
It calmed Chowder for a while, seeing Bitty bake. When he baked, he was fine. But then he noticed how Bitty was moving just a tad slower, more careful. And how he wasn’t wiggling his hips like he usually would to the (too low) music playing from his speaker. But mostly how he was just so quiet.
Sure, Bitty was never quiet quiet but this was weird. He didn’t talk about his crust or his filling or Beyoncé. He only asked how Chowder was doing, how his vacation had been, how his parents were.
So when Bitty had baked a pie and announced he would return to his room to take a nap, Chowder was torn. Should he just let him go to his room? Was he supposed to keep an eye on him?
He was grateful when Shitty showed up. By then, Bitty had been sleeping for two and a half hours. Far longer than Jack usually recommended for a nap.
It was clear to Chowder that Bitty was happy to see Shitty, but the tension on his face also showed that he most likely would have liked to be by himself for a few more days.
Shitty pulled Bitty in and kissed him on the cheek. “Well, it’s good to see you, Bits.”
And that was that.
The next few days Shitty texted Chowder updates about Bitty, while he stayed at his dorm. The rest of the team would arrive Sunday and Shitty still didn’t have a clue about what was wrong with their tiny teammate yet.
The updates didn’t do much to calm Chowder down either.
Bitty was still sleeping a lot. And when he wasn’t sleeping, he was baking or locking himself in his room.
Shitty
he burned cookies tday, brah. It was gnarly
he went to bed at 9 w/o playin his Beyoncé night ritual
and he srsly displays major cuddle vibes
so I gave him my fav blanket.
but our boi still sad boi.
Sent 23.21
Chowder stared at the message and silently looked forward to the rest of the teams' arrival back home.
≡
The next to arrive were Ransom and Holster.
Shitty greeted them at the door with chest bumps and chin tickles, both of which were gestures only accepted by the D-men (Bitty would be sent flying backward with a chest bump and Jack would only allow it after winning a game).
“Where’s Bits?” Holster said after they had done their catching up on the couch.
Shitty sighed. Bitty had been in his room all day. “In his room, probably sleeping.”
Ransom frowned. “You still don’t know what’s wrong?”
Shitty had texted everyone in the Haus separately, saying Bitty wasn’t feeling well and that they shouldn’t ask about it if they noticed him acting weird when they got home.
“Nah, brah. It’s like he lost forty games or something. He’s totally off.” he said, sipping his beer.
Holster leaned back, arm around the back of the couch behind Ransom. “Maybe he’s just homesick? He missed his mom a lot before Christmas.”
“Or maybe he got a really shitty Christmas gift,” Ransom added, and Holster nodded and snapped an approving finger in his direction.
“Maybe,” Shitty said. “We just need to cheer him up and shit. Throw a Kegster or something.” He glanced at the clock. Jack should arrive any moment now.
When he looked back Ransom and Holster were looking at each other like they always were when they were having a silent conversation.
Then finally Holster turned to Shitty. “He needs to get laid, dude.”
“I know at least three girls who would happily spin on his dick like a Beyblade,” Ransom added.
Shitty just chuckled. “Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll pie-ban you for weeks.”
They were interrupted when a door closed upstairs. A short while after, a very tired looking Bitty stood in the living room.
“Bitty!” The D-men said at the same time, jumping up to greet him.
Bitty grinned, more genuine than Shitty had seen the last few days. “Boys, I have a headache, y’all better calm down.” He sounded tired, but more like himself.
Ransom and Holster both paused abruptly in front of Bitty. “Can’t we hug you?” Ransom said, puppy eyes on full display.
Bitty sighed like he was actually thinking about it. “Don’t crush me though.”
And then he was gathered up in strong arms. Shitty could see the blissful expression on Bitty’s face as the boys hugged him carefully. He knew he had missed them.
But when Holster decided to lift Bitty gently a few inches off the ground his face turned into a flinch. He didn’t make a sound, only smiling silently when he was finally placed back on the ground. It made Shitty scratch his stache. Something was definitely off.
Later, when Jack arrived he pulled Shitty aside into his room. He had given everyone a brief hug and had moved up the stairs to his room, only to throw his head at Shitty for him to follow discreetly.
Shitty jumped on his bed immediately as Jack began to unpack.
“What’s up, brah.” he said, noticing the tension in Jack’s shoulders as he tucked away his laundry from his bag.
Jack paused as he stood up straight. Then turned towards Shitty with a frown. “He only hugged me with one arm.”
Shitty placed a pillow behind his head as he frowned as well. “What?”
Jack, still looking lost in thought, continued. “Bittle. He only half hugged me. With one arm.” He dropped the clothes he had in his hand and made his way across the room only to plumb down beside his best friend on his bed. “It was weird.”
Shitty nodded, understanding now what he was referring to. “I saw him flinching when Holster hugged slash lifted him.”
Jack frowned deepened as he looked down at his hands. “You think he’s mad at me?”
Shitty shook his head. “Nah, that’s not it. I’ve thought about it for a while now. My guess is that he got an injury over break and doesn’t want to tell us about it because it might put him out of play. And he knows this is your last year so it’s important.”
Jack turned towards him abruptly. “But that’s stupid. I’m not gonna make him play if he’s injured just because I want to win.” Shitty smiled fondly at him as Jack continued with something that looked close to a pout. “You really think that’s it?”
“It could be anything, but maybe? I guess it’s a long shot. Who knows what’s going on under that blond helmet.” He made a thoughtful noise. “I’m gonna try and talk to him. Or get Lardo to do it, maybe.”
Jack hummed in agreement, crossing his arms. Shitty thought that somehow Jack’s arms looked more toned than when he left for Christmas but didn’t comment on his best friend’s coping mechanism when being around his dad. He shook his head. Wrong teammate to worry about right now.
“I think you should try first. Then bring in Lardo. And if that doesn’t work we’ll try Chowder.” Jack said, looking at Shitty for his opinion.
Shitty snapped his finger. “Yes, let’s bring out the big guns for last, genius.”
≡
It wasn’t genius because nothing worked. By Wednesday everything had failed.
Shitty tried Monday when both he and Bitty had a free period, but Bitty shook his questions off:
“Shitty I’m perfectly fine, I’m just worried about Betsy, she’s really been acting up.” he said, genuinely looking worried.
“So nothing happened over break?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
Bitty rolled his eyes. “No! It was the same as ever.” Then he sprung up the chair and into the kitchen.
Shitty watched him walk away. He didn’t believe his bullshit for one second.
Lardo’s try was even worse.
She had pulled him aside that same night, asking very discreetly about his Christmas break which led to Bitty ranting for 45 minutes about a new recipe he found in one of his old paper folders in his room.
When Chowder had been called in on Thuesday the goalie straight up asked him if he was sad and Bitty answered with “you know, I was hoping for a Christmas release from Bey, but I also want her to enjoy her holidays. Do you think I’m a bad person for wanting more music?”. Chowder and Bitty had then spent the remaining day reassuring each other that they were good people, even though Bitty wanted more music from Beyoncé and Chowder wanted the Sharks to work a bit harder.
But Bitty’s ‘I’m-okay-façade’ didn’t add up even the slightest. Nobody had heard even a note of pop music when Bitty took a shower or went to his room. Nobody had walked through the front door and smelled apple pie—Bitty's go-to, always. At first, Holster blamed Betsy but Dex swore she worked fine after looking her over twice.
It all really went to hell after Jack had walked in on Bitty bending over the kitchen table, holding himself up by his hands, his head hanging between his shoulders and breathing loudly.
“Bittle, are you okay?” Jack had asked cautiously, eyeing him from the doorway to the kitchen.
Bitty’s head had shot up, a smile was plastered on his face, so clearly fake it made Jack openly frown.
“Yes, I’m just peachy, uhm,” Bitty had said, still breathing a little weird. His eyes wandered to the floor. “Jack, could you pick up my book? I had a headrush, you know, standing up too quickly and all,” His smile widened, and Jack frowned further.
“Sure,” he had said and walked over to pick up the book from the floor. He eyed Bitty again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Bitty, still bent over the table, hadn’t even looked at him when he waved him away. “Yes, I’m fine, just had a little headrush, that’s all.”
Jack had left it at that.
But there was also the fact that Bitty seemed tired all the time. Completely exhausted, red and dark circles under his eyes, cheeks slightly hollow. It was a good thing practice only started next week because the way Bitty was looking, he would likely drop face-first if he stepped on the ice any time soon. Dex had walked in on him sleeping on his textbook one day when he came by for food at the Haus. Bitty had dismissed it with staying up watching Netflix the night before.
The Haus was starting to get weird. Ransom and Holster had taken the task of never leaving Bitty alone to distract him very seriously, but it was hard when he started escaping to his room both more often and earlier in the day.
Shitty had even started to subtly hint when butter was on sale at murder Stop ‘n Shop.
Nothing worked.
And then it was Thursday morning and Shitty woke up to Jack sitting at his desk with folded hands under his chin, still in his running clothes, yellow shoes blinding him as he turned on his lights.
“Brah, what?” Shitty slurred. “Wha’ time issit?” Looking at his alarm clock it was 8 in the morning. Not that early then. He had class in an hour.
Jack simply sighed and looked at him. “Bitty left somewhere last night.”
Shitty sat up, cracking his back in the process. “What? Where?”
Jack stood up but didn’t move to join Shitty in his bed. “I don’t know. I woke up at one last night to get some water because Lardo borrowed my water bottle. I saw Bittle’s door was cracked open and he usually closes it, right?” Shitty nodded and Jack frowned. “Right, so I look inside, you know, to see if he was awake, but his bed was empty.”
Shitty shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. “He wasn’t there? Was he in the bathroom or something?”
Jack shook his head. “No. I checked the front door, too. It was unlocked.”
Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, Shitty ran a hand through his hair. “Shit is getting weird, man. Do you have any idea when he came back? Is he even back yet?”
Jack’s eyes paused for a moment. “I don’t know. He was there when I went for my run this morning, but he looked fine. Well, not fine but not less fine than any other day since we got back from break.”
“You didn’t ask where he was?”
“Do you think he would’ve answered me truthfully?”
Jack had a point.
“That would explain why he looks so trashed all the time.” Shitty thought out loud and Jack hummed.
“Should I ask him?” Jack sat down on Shitty’s bedside.
Shitty stroked a hand over his back. He knew Jack hated it when the team was unbalanced. Not just because it would likely affect their play, but also because he wanted everyone to be happy and well. And Bitty clearly wasn’t.
“No, I don’t think he’ll tell you anything,” Shitty said as Jack leaned against him.
Just then, Lardo opened the door, also wearing running clothes.
“Hey, dorks.” she said, dropping down in Shitty’s chair.
“Lardo, what the fuck, it’s 8 in the morning.” Shitty deadpanned.
“She went running with me,” Jack said calmly, and Shitty rolled his eyes because duh. Lardo was Jack’s stress relief at times when Shitty wasn’t. It was a good balance. “Lardo, what do you think?”
Lardo bit her lip. “I think Shitty’s right. He’s not gonna tell us shit.” She paused before cocking her head with a sigh. “Well, the obvious answer is to follow him.”
Jack and Shitty looked at each other.
“Not tonight though,” she continued. “We don’t know if this was a one-time thing. I really hope it is, but at the same time I’ll bet Holster’s tall white ass that it wasn’t. Either way, we’ll see if he leaves again Friday and then we’ll follow him.” She nodded once like she was satisfied with her explanation and leaned back in the chair.
“But why not just follow him tonight then?” Jack asked and Lardo rolled her eyes.
“Because, Jay-Z, Bitty’s looking like a fucking corpse and if you were keeping up, you’ll know that he has an assignment due Friday. So tonight I’m gonna make sure he fucking sleeps so he can finish it tomorrow.” She removed the hair tie from her hair and glided a hand through it. Jack turned to Shitty who looked at her with heart eyes. “I’m gonna make an excuse so I don’t make him suspicious, but one thing is sure, he ain’t leaving that room tonight. I’ll knock his cute ass out if I have to.”
So they left it at that. Shitty filled Ransom and Holster in on the plan, and they decided to let Lardo take care of Bitty and see what would happen Friday.
Sure enough, Lardo pulled Bitty from the couch about 8 pm and disappeared into his room. Bitty only protested slightly.
“Lardo, this is ridiculous.” he mumbled, but everyone could see he was exhausted. Nobody had the heart to say it, though.
“I told you Bitty, my dorm has a rat lose. I can’t go back there until tomorrow and I’m really tired. And how can I fall asleep without the good ol’ Bittle cuddles.” she said with a sly smile.
Bitty sighed, clearly seeing through her very cheap lie. “Fine.”
And then the rest of the boys were left in the living room. The room felt quiet even though the TV was on. It was thick and weird.
It was Holster who broke the silence.
“So what’s the plan for Friday?” he asked, looking at Shitty.
Shitty pondered for a moment. “Go to bed early, come up with our excuses, and wait and see if he goes out.”
“And wait a minute or two to follow if he actually leaves.” Jack added, feeling his wrists tingle as if they needed a stick to handle. He was anxious. It was starting to affect his play. Practice might only start next week, but Jack had already been at the rink twice. The second time was this morning and he hadn’t broken any of his personal records. Not even slapshots.
The D-men nodded approvingly,
“Lardo will crash with me tomorrow,” Shitty added, running a hand through his hair. Shitty had been a lot less goofy and chill when not around Bitty. Jack could see he was worried but wouldn’t let Bitty see it, so he saved it for when he wasn’t around. It was weird to see his best friend so serious but also reassuring because then Jack felt calmer. Shitty had the situation under control.
When everyone agreed to the plan they went to bed silently.
Jack, however, woke up again around one to get water. The Haus was quiet, which made sense because it was one in the morning, but like every cliché horror movie Shitty had forced Jack to watch something didn’t feel quite right. His first instinct was to check if Bitty was still in his room. He knew that logically Bitty probably was because nothing got passed Lardo, but when had Jack’s fears ever made much sense?
His feet met the cold carpet. Always sleeping with his room temperature slightly too cold might be nice when he was under the covers, but it didn’t do much when he was supposed to leave his bed. Jack pulled himself together, not bothering putting a shirt on and went out into the hall. He could see the door to Bitty’s room was closed, but as he made his way to the stairs he noticed the lights were on in Bitty, Holster and Ransom’s shared bathroom. He walked over but paused halfway to the door when he heard a sound.
Someone was crying. Bitty was crying, his voice easy to recognize even through a door.
Jack stood there, frozen as the subtle sound of sniffling filled the hallway.
His heart sank. Was his teammate really that unhappy? And he hadn’t even been able to figure out why? He was captain for god's sake, that was his job.
Jack felt nailed to the floor. He couldn’t just leave but he was so awkward when people cried. Tears made him stiff and uncomfortable. But he couldn’t leave. It was Bitty and he was alone. He wanted to help, knock down the door and demand to know what he could do to make it better.
He quietly walked over to the door, took a deep breath and knocked.
The sound of crying stopped immediately.
“Bittle?” he said quietly, as if afraid to scare him.
Nothing was said from the other side for a long while and Jack considered knocking again when a voice spoke. A weak and quiet one.
“Yeah?”
Jack swallowed. He wasn’t the person for this. He should’ve gone and got Shitty. “Are you okay?”
Bitty sniffled slightly, then hurriedly answered. “Yeah, yes, of course, I’m fine.” Then a pause. “I’m fine, Jack, I promise.”
Jack almost lifted his hand to the doorknob but let it fall to his side again instead. “Bittle, you’re crying.”
“I’m fine, Jack. Please just— go back to bed, okay? I’m fine.” he continued, still sniffling.
“But—“ Jack's hand reached forward. Please don’t push me away.
“Jack, please just go. Please.”
Jack sighed, his slightly shaking hand removing itself from where it had found the doorknob. “Okay.”
He silently walked backward from the door, pausing multiple times and considering walking back to his teammate. But in the end, he sighed and went back to his room, water long forgotten.
≡
The next morning Bitty was quiet. Not in the way Lardo was when she was behind on a project or when Ransom was studying for a test without sleeping. Not even in the way Jack was when they lost a game. Bitty was just plain quiet.
“Morning, Bitty,” Shitty chimed, sipping his morning coffee happily by the sink.
Bitty smiled at him for a moment. “Morning, Shitty.” Then he turned around and saw Jack drinking water, freshly back from a morning run, sitting by the kitchen table. His eyes reached the floor and his smile disappeared. He turned towards the countertop and grabbed an apple.
Shitty sent him a look over Bitty’s shoulder and Jack shook his head silently.
Bitty turned back to them, smile plastered on his face again, but it looked like a grimace more than anything. “Well, I’m gonna get going. Bye, y’all!”
Jack felt is if a fog had taken over his mind as he watched his teammate basically sprint out of the kitchen. Two seconds later he was out the front door, too.
Last night, after Jack had gotten back to his room, he lied awake, staring numbingly at the ceiling. For the past few days, Jack hadn’t been able to put a finger on why Bitty being so off had affected him so much. All he could figure out was that it made his stomach twist and his hands stim. But as he had locked eyes on the ceiling crack just inches from the wall he felt something click. Bitty’s behavior was reminding him of himself, only he hadn’t noticed because Bitty was significantly better at hiding his feelings than Jack had been when he had been at his lowest. But it made sense and Jack didn’t fall asleep for the longest time.
“What the fuck was that?” Shitty blurted out, gesturing at the closed front door.
Jack shook himself out of his train of thought and downed the last of his water. “I’ll tell you later. You’ll be late for class.”
Shitty frowned but agreed. “I’ll text you when I’m out of class and you’ll bring the spicy, hot deets, alright brah?”
A little while later, Lardo came down the stairs when both Holster and Shitty had left for classes.
“He doesn’t fucking sleep.” she cursed, seating herself at the kitchen table beside Ransom as Jack ate a protein bar by the sink. “I woke up three times where he was just sitting there, in bed, wide awake.” She pouted angrily and crossed her arms. “I was this close to just banging his head against the wall just to knock him out.” She held up her thumb and index finger to visualize.
Jack paused and debated if he should say something. It was a pretty private matter he walked in on last night and he wasn’t sure if it was his secret to tell.
He silently shook his head. This was about Bitty’s well being.
He swallowed his bite. “I heard him crying in the bathroom when I went to get water.”
Lardo’s head shot up as well as Ransom’s.
“What?” Lardo asked. “When?”
“Around one?”
Lardo silently closed her eyes and dropped her head slowly in her hands. She sighed, sounding as tired as she looked.
“Shit.” Ransom had stopped typing on his computer. “Did you talk to him?” He hit enter a couple of times on his keyboard, eyes not leaving Jack’s.
“I asked him if he was okay, but he dismissed me pretty hard. He told me to leave, so I did.” Jack threw his protein bar wrapper in the trash and walked over to sit down beside his teammate. He felt too jittery to sit down but his legs were tired.
Lardo leaned back in her chair, exhaling loudly. “That southern peach is a fucking fortress.”
The others silently agreed
≡
Surprisingly enough, Shitty was the one who appeared the most nervous about the plan. It was Friday and Bitty had arrived home from classes at around two and basically locked himself in his room as soon as he entered the Haus, leaving Holster and Ransom sharing glances from the kitchen as he stormed passed them.
It was currently ten o’clock in the evening and Shitty was pacing the living room. Jack was on the floor, Lardo in the armchair and the D-men on the couch. Holster had texted the frogs that they should stay away from the Haus tonight and that they would explain later if necessary.
“That little fucker is hiding something—“
“We know, Shitty.”
“—and I just fucking know it’s something we could’ve helped him with if he just trusted us—“
“Yes, we talked about it.”
“—but it’s our fault if he doesn’t trust us right? This should be his fucking safe space, brah—“
“Shitty—“
“—and that means I failed him, I should’ve—“
Ransom stood up and grabbed Shitty by the neck, ignoring his squeak and forced him down on the couch, headfirst, as Holster sat on the back of his legs. Ransom placed himself on his back and silently began petting his hair.
“Thanks, brah, I needed that.” Shitty sighed, head squished down the sofa cushions.
“We know,” they said in unison.
It had been a little while since Bitty came down for some simple dinner before disappearing into his room again, and the mind-numbing silence was slowly making them all a little crazy.
“Maybe we should just go to bed,” Jack said, stretching his legs on the floor.
“We just need someone to notify the others if he leaves,” said Holster, stopping momentarily to tickle Shitty’s feet, making him squeak again.
“I’ll do that,” Jack said, “I’m not gonna sleep anyway.”
Shitty stopped his squeaking for a short moment to frown at him. “Brah, that assignment is not due for a whole month.”
“I know, but I might as well start now, right?” He shrugged. “There’s only gonna be more practice from now on, you know.”
Shitty’s frown deepened but he kept quiet.
Later, when everyone had gone to bed, Jack was still up. His computer was open with a document, but he hadn’t written more than a couple of lines. He was waiting. Listening.
Sure enough, about one-thirty Jack heard Bitty’s bedroom door open and then close. He kept quiet, silently listening for the front door. There was a click and he reached towards his window, watching Bitty walk down the street and away from the Haus.
He jumped out at bed, sprinted to Shitty’s room all while texting Holster and Ransom.
A minute later, after Shitty getting dressed in record time, they were walking fast-paced down the street.
“How the fuck do we know where he’s going?” Holster said as they crossed another street.
Lardo was hiked up on his back because she insisted that her legs were too short to keep up. Her phone was in her hand, resting on Holster’s shoulder. “Not to be creepy but he has his Snapchat map activated.”
“What’s that?” Jack asked, shoving his beanie further down over his ears.
“Basically, Zimmer-caveman, it means that I can see his location due to Snapchat’s very creepy new update that allows friends to see each other on a map. Bitty’s smart but apparently still stupid enough to agree to this update.” Lardo sighed, eyes searching her screen before she paused. “Oh, honey.”
“What?” Ransom said. “Where is he?”
“The rink.”
Holster hoisted her further up on his back. “At Faber? What the fuck is he doing there?”
“I don’t know but let’s go get his ass.”
≡
Once they arrived at Faber Ransom ran up to the main entrance only to find it locked.
Lardo slit down from Holster’s back. “Thought so.”
“What do you mean?” Holster said, bending backward to crack his back.
“I’m pretty sure Bitty’s smart enough to use the backdoor to the locker rooms.” She said, already walking left towards the backdoors designed for when other teams came to play.
Sure enough, the door was unlocked.
Once they walked inside Shitty immediately stopped them from going further.
“We don’t know where he is so let’s split up.” he said, scratching his stache. “Holsom, you take the locker rooms,” both D-men nodded and silently fist-bumped. “Jardo, you take the ice,” Jack shot a confused look at Lardo, who in turn calmly shook her head at him. “And I take the equipment room and cafeteria.” Shitty reached inside the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses and slid them on. “Let’s find our southern peach cobbler.”
And then Jack and Lardo were off, walking down the hall and towards the rink. Jack could sense Lardo’s unease as they reached the door (a door they usually didn’t use because it was the door for fans) but he held himself back from placing a hand on her shoulder.
Lardo took a deep breath and opened the door as silently as possible. Jack put a hand on it too, holding back the other half of the double doors as they slit inside.
At first sight, the ice was empty, but Jack also knew that the rink didn’t normally have the lights turned on at night, so something was definitely up. Sure enough, as they walked forward they were met with a sight.
Jack heard Lardo quietly suck in a short breath and drew a hand to her mouth.
Bitty was sitting in the far left corner of the ice. No skates, no gear, just sitting in his dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt, leaning against the boards. He had a phone pressed to his ear, but he wasn’t talking. And grasped tightly in his right hand was only what Jack could identify as a bottle of scotch.
Jack’s eyebrows furrowed. Bitty didn’t drink scotch. He drank sweet ciders and other sugary alcohols that made his cheeks pink. But as if on command Jack watched Bitty clumsily put the bottle to his lips and tipped his head backward, making it bump into to boards hard. It didn’t seem to bother him, though, because he held the bottle to his lips for multiple seconds before tipping it back down.
“That’s almost half empty,” Lardo whispered, not taking her eyes off Bitty who clearly hadn’t spotted them yet. “Jack, that bottle is—“
“—Almost half empty, yeah.” Jack sighed, feeling frozen on the spot. “What is he doing?” He kept his voice down, but from the looks of it, Bitty wasn’t noticing much of his surroundings anyway.
“Shh, be quiet.” Lardo whispered, holding a hand out in front of Jack as if to hold him back. Lardo’s gaze was locked on Bitty as she strained her ear.
Very subtlety, but still recognizable through the empty rink, the female voice of a phone service made her eyes snap up.
“—seven new messages, please press—“
“He’s listening to voicemails?” she said in confusion and Jack mirrored her look. He felt his mind trace back to all the times he heard that voice for himself. When he first arrived at Samwell he spent his Sundays listening to that same voice, reminding him that his dad had called four times this week and he hadn’t answered any of them and was instead now listening to desperate voicemails from his father who just wanted to know how his son was doing.
“—listen to your messages, to delete, please pre—“
Bitty pulled the phone away from himself and aggressively pressed a button on his screen before placing it back to his ear. His eyes were unfocused and dazed, gazing back and forth on the ice with no particular pattern.
Jack and Lardo stood quietly, feet nailed to the floor.
As Bitty took a swing of the bottle once more, the doors behind them quietly opened. They didn’t have to look around to know it was Ransom, Holster, and Shitty. When Jack turned to look at them they were all already watching Bitty.
“What the hell is he doing?” Ransom whispered, eyes squinting.
Lardo’s were tightly pressed together before she spoke: “We think he’s listening to voicemails on his phone while being completely hammered.”
The group of five stood silently and watched, holding their breaths and waiting to see what would happen next.
They didn’t have to wait long because suddenly Bitty’s face changed from completely numb and tired to angry and cold. A sort of maddening grunting sound came from his lips as he tried to stand up. It then became clear just how drunk Bitty was.
The ice wasn’t helping but Bitty stumbled and practically latched into the boards to keep steady. His jeans were soaked, and his t-shirt was clinging to his back as if he had been lying down at some point, too. It was nothing like watching tipsy Bitty maneuvering clumsily around the kitchen at a Kegster or awkwardly trying to pull any of them onto the dance floor. Right now, Bitty looked completely wasted.
Holster began moving forward but Shitty held him by the shoulder, firmly holding him back.
“Let’s see first, brah.” he whispered. Shitty’s eyes resembled what Jack only could identify as the ‘Jack-you-need-to-breathe-it’s-okay-calm-down-brah’-look.
It was just then that Bitty found his balance on his two feet, pausing for a brief moment to pull the phone even tighter to his ear. He coughed and hiccupped like he was crying. Jack heard a quiet ‘fuck’ from his left, but he wasn’t focusing on anything other than the furious, angry and sad look on Bitty’s face as the tears rolled down his already red cheeks.
Bitty mumbled something Jack couldn’t hear, pushing himself away from the boards, the phone still tightly in his hand and pressed to the side of his face. He attempted to walk further onto the ice, lips still moving but not making sense.
As the mumbling continued Bitty slowly raised his volume until Jack realized what he was saying.
“Shut up, shut up, fucking shut up—“
A loud sort of yell came from the phone and Bitty, for a split second, looked scared and then, from one second to the next, furious. Jack saw it coming before it happened: Bitty pulled the phone from his ear and chucked it against the ice, shattering it.
Jack flinched at the sound and Lardo had a hand to her mouth once again, this time with Shitty’s hand on her shoulder. Holster, standing behind Jack, cursed and Ransom had his lips pulled in a tight line.
Bitty, as if for a moment he forgot the alcohol in his system, slit over to the broken phone and stomped on it, eyes now visibly red and breath catching. He leaned forward, down over the shattered phone and yelled; “Leave me alone!”
His voice cracked at the end, sending him into a fit of sobbing. A clumsy arm came up to wipe his face, but he was uncoordinated and only made himself almost lose balance. Nearly tipping backward, making Jack’s heart stop for a brief horrifying moment, Bitty found his balance again and stood upright. He looked down at the bottle in his hand and as if it had caught flames him he uncoordinated threw it downwards, making it shatter all over the ice, coloring it with the remaining alcohol. The throw made him tip forward and he fell onto his knees. His hands were resting on the glass and alcohol-covered ice as his voice filled the rink, making them all shutter.
“That’s fucking it.”
It was Holster, parting Ransom and Jack like they weighed nothing and began running over to the nearest entrance into the ice. “He’s gonna get sick, for fuck sakes.” he yelled over his shoulder and that made Ransom set off too. By the time the D-men stepped onto the ice Bitty was lying down sideways and Shitty already running after them. Lardo moved next, leaving Jack completely frozen on the spot, utterly useless.
When Holster reached Bitty he immediately dropped to his knees and removed his jacket. Ransom started putting both hands on Bitty’s shoulders and pulling him up. He went like a ragdoll as Holster attempted to put the jacket around his shoulders. Bitty was freezing.
Holster felt sick to his stomach as he looked down on his teammate. Bitty’s hands were bleeding slightly, having left little red spots on the ice. Holster put a hand on the side of his face, turning his head towards him as Ransom disappeared out of his vision. “Bits, hey, Bitty? It’s me, man.”
Bitty’s head was heavy where it was resting on his thigh and his red eyes opened halfway. He looked on the brink of passing out cold.
“-‘lster?” Bitty slurred.
Holster smiled weakly. “Yeah, it’s me, I’m here with the team, we’re going to take you home, okay?”
An incomprehensible mumble came from Bitty’s closed mouth as Shitty dropped down beside him.
“Holy shit, brah, his lips are blue,” he said, looking up at Holster. He then turned around. “Jack! We need your beanie! Get your ass over here!”
Shitty’s yelling made Jack move instantaneously and soon enough he was kneeling on the ice beside them, eyes locked on Bitty. Shitty pulled the beanie off his head and shoved it aggressively down over Bitty’s hair and ears.
He looked awful. Blue-ish lips, eyes unfocused and drooping. If Jack’s gut feeling was right, in about five minutes Bitty would either pass out or throw up. He didn’t know which one he hoped for.
“Hey, guys,” they all looked up at Ransom who was squatting down a few feet from them with his back turned. He stood up and faced them as his eyes locked on something in his gloved hand. It was a large glass shard. “I think this is the scotch Bitty bought for his dad.” Jack saw Holster’s eyes widened and Shitty’s eyes narrow. As he turned back to Ransom he was holding up the label of the broken bottle. Jack didn’t recognize it.
“What?” Shitty said, voice airy and confused.
“He bought it for his dad,” Lardo said. “It was a Christmas present. Apparently, his dad loves that brand, but it can’t be bought in normal stores. I helped him find a small shop here in town that sold it.” Her voice sounded confused and sad, matching the D-men’s expressions.
“Come on guys, we have to get him out of here.” Holster said, grabbing Bitty under the armpits at the same time as he stood up. Bitty, still half awake, half unconscious, lolled his head back as he was carried bridal style off the ice.
“’m cold.” he murmured into Holster’s chest.
Holster squeezed him tighter. “We’re gonna warm you up, Bits, don’t worry, okay?” he said, voice low and tight as he made his way over with Ransom holding onto his shoulders for balance.
The rest followed, looking back at the mess that was left on the ice.
As they all walked out, Jack glanced back one last time.
“We’ll clean it up tomorrow,” Lardo said, a hand on his shoulder and they left.
≡
As they walked down the street the air was tense.
Holster, Ransom, and Shitty walked side by side, all three aiming their attention at Bitty who had begun talking a bit more, still somehow awake. Shitty suspected it was the walking and the moving around that did it. He quickly glanced behind him where Lardo and Jack were walking a few paces from them.
“I got him,” Holster said for the second time after Ransom offered, again, to carry Bitty for a bit. “He’s not that heavy.”
Ransom nodded reluctantly. “Okay, but just say the word.”
Shitty looked down at Bitty who still had drying streaks of tears down his cheeks and too pale of a face. He only realized that Bitty was staring back at him when he spoke.
“Where— where’re we goin’? he asked, still slurring his words quite a bit.
“We’re going home, Bits. Back to the Haus so you can get some sleep, yeah?” Shitty said in a cheerful voice, hoping to cheer up his teammate by a fraction.
But Bitty’s face fell and his eyes turned away from Shitty.
Holster shared a look with Ransom as they continued down the street. As he hiked Bitty up in his arms to get a better grip Bitty finally looked back at Shitty.
“Do I have shoes on?” he asked, head lolling back on Holster’s chest.
“You have your blue Converse on.” Holster said with a frown.
Bitty looked up in surprise, staring down at his feet. Then he slumped back down in Holster’s arms. “’m cold,” he mumbled.
“We’re gonna warm you right up when we get home—“
“Where’s m’phone?”
The three of them shared a look. Ransom cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Uhm well, it’s broken, Bits.” he said apologetically, carefully. “But we’ll get you a new one!” Ransom smiled brightly but Bitty didn’t react.
“I need m’phone.” he slurred again, now jostling around in Holster’s grip. The movement forced him to slow down, making everyone pause on the sidewalk. “Where issit?” Bitty now tried to stretch out his legs as if to jump out of Holster’s arms.
“Hey, Bitty, calm down, we’ll get you a new phone, okay?” Shitty said, placing a hand on Bitty’s thigh to keep him still. It worked momentarily.
“No, I need my phone, you know— s’important.” As Bitty struggled again Holster was forced to put him down, hands instead coming up to his shoulders to hold him steady. Bitty looked ready to fall on his face. “’mma go get it.”
Shitty placed a hand on his chest, holding him back. He saw that Jack and Lardo had also stopped just behind them. “Bitty, you’re cold remember? We’re gonna go home and warm you up, okay?” he said in a tone that made him sound like a kindergarten teacher.
Bitty frowned and weakly tried to push his hand away but Holster still had a tight grip on him. “Coach— he called, I need to—” He trailed off, sounding like he was about to cry. Like a frustrated child who was denied his favorite toy.
“You can call him tomorrow from my phone, okay?” Ransom said, walking into Bitty’s line of vision, holding out his phone to demonstrate.
Bitty’s frown deepened but he stopped struggling, allowing him (Ransom this time) to pick him up bridal style, and they continued the rest of the short way home.
As they reached the front door Lardo sprung up behind them with the key and pushed it open. Bitty hadn’t said a word in a couple of minutes but as Ransom passed through the door he argued.
“I need to— to go back and get m’phone,” he slurred, struggling in Ransom’s grip as he was placed down in one of the chairs in the living room. Even though Bitty was so drunk he couldn’t stand on his own two feet, they still knew not to place him on the couch that he insisted was a health hazard. “My dad, coach—“ Bitty trailed off again as he blinked slowly.
Shitty squatted down in front of him as they all spread out in the living room. Jack went into the kitchen to get him a glass of water.
“Bitty, I know it’s late but if it’s that important, you can call your dad from my phone,” he said slowly, grabbing his phone from his back pocket and showing it to Bitty.
Bitty’s head turned and he blinked slowly at him. Then he shook his head and released a slured, low chuckled. “No, he don’ wanna talk to me.”
Frowns spread throughout the room and Shitty felt his stomach settle weirdly. “I can call him if you want, or one of the guys or Lardo,” he said, “Do you want that? We’ll call him if you want.”
Everyone nodded in agreement with Shitty’s suggestion but Bitty chuckled again.
“Oh, he esp-especially”—It took him three tries to say it correctly—“don’ wanna talk to any of you.” he said, finishing off with a snort and his eyes drifted shut for a few seconds, still completely out of it. He didn’t notice Jack entering the room with the water and a blanket from his room. He didn’t notice when said blanket was wrapped around him either.
“Why wouldn’t he wanna talk with any of us?” Ransom asked carefully, sitting on the floor in front of the chair.
Bitty looked at Ransom and chuckled again before his expression changed into something weird. His eyebrows furrowed and his mouth shut tightly as if he suddenly remembered something he didn’t want to or if he had just stubbed his toe against a table. Then he smiled again but this time it wasn’t as pleasing to witness.
“He thinks y’all made me gay.”
Everyone froze at Bitty’s words and looked around at one another. Bitty had once again broken off into a drunken chuckle. A chuckle they were all used to hear at all the Kegsters, but this had a coldness to it that wasn’t usually there.
No one knew what to say. Jack turned to look at Shitty, but Shitty’s eyes were frozen on Bitty with an expression he couldn’t read.
Bitty, who didn’t notice any of it or even registered the change of atmosphere, kept going like nothing out of the ordinary.
“I don’ think he wanna talk to y’all if he thinks you’re the reason he has a faggot son,” he said, smacking his lips together as his head rolled to the other side heavily. “’s stupid, I know, but that— that’s what he thinks.”
Though it wasn’t a nice thought, it wasn’t all that surprising. They all knew Bitty’s parents were very stereotypical southern church-goers. Afterall, Bitty had spent the entire family weekend keeping his mom away from anything that seemed gay. They all knew it because Bitty had prepared them. He had especially prepared Lardo because he knew his mom would get problematic if she found out his team manager was bisexual. He had warned them a week before she came. They knew his parents weren’t supportive of his college choice.
Lardo carefully stepped around Holster and ended up standing beside Ransom where he was sitting on the floor. Jack could see she hesitated, swallowing discreetly.
“Bitty,” she said, breaking the unbearable silence and getting Bitty’s attention all at the same time. “Uhm…” Jack could see she was struggling, not knowing how to proceed without asking anything that suggested something. “You know you can tell us anything, right? We have your back.” She finished and Bitty smiled so brightly and genuinely.
“Lardo, you’re so silly,” he said, slumping forward and hugging her stomach tight. “…an’ warm.”
Shitty shared a look with Lardo over Bitty’s shoulder. Carefully she nudged the arms that reached around her off and Bitty, unfazed, fell back into the chair.
“Bitty,” Shitty started. “Does your dad think you’re gay? Is he assuming shit and being a dick about it?” Jack recognized the serious look in Shitty’s eyes. It was the same look he gave him when he helped him down from a panic attack. It was scary seeing it aimed at someone else because it always shook Jack to see his best friend shift so fast from his usual self to this serious, worried version.
Everyone held their breaths as Bitty eyed him up and down with an unrecognizable look.
A snort left the drunk boy and he turned his head momentarily at Ransom on the floor and shook his head fondly as if saying isn’t he silly? What a silly thing to say. Only Ransom wasn’t reacting. Bitty turned back to Shitty. “You’re funny. Do you— where’s my phone?”
“Bitty, your phone is broken.”
It was Holster, standing in the back with his arms crossed.
Bitty’s expression turned sour. “But I need it.”
It wasn’t that Bitty was a party-crier. He wasn’t the friend who got tipsy and then proceeded to snot on someone’s shoulder for the rest of the night. No, Bitty was the normal hype, funny, cheerful party person. But even Jack knew that with one too many in the system even the happiest drunk person couldn’t possibly control their emotions. Because the thing that was so great about drunk Bitty was that his walls always came down just a little. Only, there had only ever been great stuff on the other side. Now it was a different story, and they all seemed to know because nobody looked surprised when Bitty’s cheeks started to turn red and his eyes glossy.
Bitty sat forward in the chair, almost tipping over if it weren’t for Holster’s hand on his shoulder nudging him back into the seat.
“I need— wasn’t done, I need it.” he said, voice going more frustrated.
Everyone looked unsure of what to do. Did they push for more information? Did they leave it alone? Did they drive back for his broken phone? Jack glanced back and forth between his teammates from his spot in the background. He felt useless but he had a feeling that so did the others.
It was Lardo who spoke first, glancing quickly to Jack before turning her full attention to Bitty.
“You weren’t done with what, Bitty? The voicemails?” She sounded unsure. She and Jack could have been wrong.
But Bitty lolled his head in her direction and rolled his misty eyes. “Duh, what else?”
Before the silence could stretch out into the uncomfortable Shitty pushed forward. “Who has been calling you, Bits? Your dad?”
It took a couple of seconds but Bitty finally met Shitty’s gaze and when he did he seemed so very tired but also confused as if he expected Shitty to know this. “What— what' you mean?”
Shitty swallowed. “Who has been leaving you voicemails?”
Realization spread across Bitty’s face in a wide smile like he was proud of figuring it out. “Oh! Well… you know,” but then his voice trailed off and his smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. “Mostly m’family. Aunt Judy, m’uncles, couple cousins,” he paused and tilted his head to the ceiling, expression forming an animated question mark before clearing up. “Oh, and— and my old high school teacher, Mrs. Jackson. She’s sucha nice lady…” His eyes slipped close for a few seconds and when he opened them they were shiny.
Jack saw Shitty wipe a hand over his face along with the deep breathe let out by Holster.
“Why would your high school teacher be calling you?” Ransom said, wondering out loud.
Bitty looked up from where his eyes had fixed on his lap and sniffled. His eyes were red as he glanced around at all of them with a questionable look. Bitty didn’t turn to Jack where he stood by the door. He didn’t seem to notice him at all.
“Didn’t I jus' tell y’all?” he said, and before they could even begin to work up an answer Bitty let out a cold snort. “’m a faggot. Y'know this.” He smiled as a tear rolled down both of his cheeks. "Everybody knows this."
It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving them dry and heaving for something, anything. Instead, the sound of nothing at all seemed to fill every inch and ring into their ears, too loud and too obvious. Jack saw it all unfold from his place by the door. Lardo’s eyes widened as she on instinct turned and fixed her eyes on Shitty with a question on her face. Ransom and Holster looked at each other with unreadable expressions, but Jack could see their foreheads drawing together in confusion. Ransom’s half-open mouth seemed to slam shut as he and Holster did that silent communication thing, and though Jack could only see Holster’s side profile from where he stood, he could still clearly see the same determination mirrored on his face. Then Jack turned to Shitty who had buried his face in his hands, missing everything Jack saw across the room. And somehow that was the worst of it all.
Waking up from the slow-motion reaction that had gone through the room, Jack realized he had grabbed onto the doorframe. As the silence stretched on, creeping its way into the corners of the room and seeping into their skin, the sound of quiet sniffles suddenly drowned everything out. It was as if everyone had defrosted and turned to a crying, drunk-out-of-his-mind Bitty. Bitty, who had apparently just come out to them. A coming out he might not even get to remember.
Bitty folded an arm over his face as his lips pressed together tightly when he struggled to conceal a sob that Jack felt in his very soul. He drew his legs up to his face, making himself as small as possible as he nearly undetectably whispered out a “’m sorry.”
Somehow, Jack could hear the sound of glass breaking in the back of his mind.
Lardo was the first to move, standing up and pulling the ball of Bitty into her arms. “Bitty, stop that, you’re fine, yeah?” Her voice was stern and hard, but Jack could hear it falter underneath. He could see the tight grip she closed around him, the muscles in her shoulders tensing. Her eyes were fixed on the wall in front of her, hard and waving with emotion.
This time the sob wasn’t caught in Bitty’s throat, and though he didn’t move he still let himself be pulled into Lardo’s embrace. That seemed to wake serious concern more than anything.
Bitty wasn’t shy about physical affection. He embraced it, sought it out from anyone willing to give it to him. But happy Bitty was a whole lot different from sad Bitty. After a lost game or a practice filled with passing out Bitty would act like any physical touch burned him. Seeing him shy away from it the first time had been a scary realization, but this just seemed to top it. Because Bitty was miserable and still willingly letting his teammates embrace him. Jack didn’t know if it was because of the alcohol or the subject at hand, or both.
Holster, who Jack also knew to be frustrated whenever he felt useless, had placed both hands on Bitty’s legs in a desperate attempt to help with something, anything. Ransom had stood up as well, standing warily behind Lardo and observing with creased eyebrows.
“You we-weren’t supposed t’know.” Bitty’s voice was weak and wet, muffled by his knees and Lardo’s stomach.
“We don’t care, okay?” Lardo said harshly. “We love you, we don’t care.”
For a while, Bitty just seemed to cry. Sobbing muffled into his knees and arms, hair getting stroked by Lardo and arms around him from all sides. Jack and Shitty were the only ones who hadn’t moved.
Then after a few minutes, Bitty spoke again, this time even quieter and weaker than before. But it still silenced the whole room.
“Please don’ tell Jack.”
Jack’s mouth opened and drew in a sharp breath of air as his hand tightened around the doorframe. He didn’t even notice Shitty who tore his head away from his hands, sharp eyes darting to his best friend. Then Shitty launched himself at his smaller teammate, prying his arm away from his face.
“Hey, Bitty, what do you mean by that?” Shitty said, holding Bitty’s red and swollen face between his hands.
Bitty’s face screwed up again, snot and tears all over it. He let out a cry and squeezed his eyes shut before murmuring a quiet; “I don’ wanna get kicked off the team.”
Shitty looked in disbelieve at his teammate. “Hey, why would you get kicked off the team? Bits, Jack would never—“
“I can’t pay by m’self,” Bitty interrupted with a snotty sob. His breathing was picking up, evolving to tight, small gasps. “I can’t pay, I can’t—“
Shitty’s gaze hardened. “Bitty, please listen. No one would ever kick you off the team for— for that. Okay?”
But Bitty’s breathing didn’t slow down. Shitty felt his head get heavy in his grip as he realized he had lost Bitty’s focus. “But I‘m gay, I’m—“
“And it doesn’t matter, Bits. We don’t give a flying rat’s ass if—“ Shitty stopped, biting his lower lip as his head fell to his chest. When he continued his voice was strained. “You’re Bitty. Just Bitty, nothing else, alright? Don’t— don’t let that…” he trailed off briefly. “Bitty, you’re perfect, there’s nothing wrong with you. Nothing.”
Bitty looked at him with dusty, unfocused eyes wet with tears all while his breathing quickened.
Shitty bit his lip in defeat. He couldn’t calm him down. It wasn’t like Jack, this was Bitty and Shitty couldn’t calm him down. So he looked up at the people around him before his eyes locked on Ransom.
“He’s gonna throw up if he keeps that up,” Ransom said, jogging quickly out of the room. He passed by Jack, giving him a squeeze on the shoulder and a hand briefly stroking through his hair before he was off to the kitchen.
“I’m—“ Bitty heaved, head shaking out of Shitty’s hold and falling between his legs. Lardo had let go of him and squatted down beside Shitty trying to get a look at his face. Shitty grabbed Bitty’s head between his hands again. Bitty’s eyes were wet, and though they locked on his teammate’s face Shitty could tell he wasn’t really aware of it.
“Bitty, hey, Bits, are you gonna be sick? Hang in there, okay?” Bitty’s head was heavy in his hands as he turned to shout. “Ransom, get your ass in here!”
“Coming!” Ransom brushed passed Jack and quickly made his way around to place the bucket in front of Bitty’s now very pale face.
“’m sorry,” Bitty said between gasps of air. His forehead was sweaty. His left hand sought out blindly and grabbed onto Lardo’s shirt before he leaned forward and promptly threw up in the bucket.
Shitty, who held back the front strands of Bitty’s hair that weren’t even long enough to be a problem, flinched slightly at the sound but still reached out to rub his back. Jack saw him turn away briefly to look at nothing, blinking rapidly before turned back to Bitty, continuing to rub his back as his teammate threw up for the second time.
“It’s okay, Bitty, you’re okay.”