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They’ve lived in New York City for the better part of 4 years. Jack wanted to live somewhere new and away from his family after being discharged, and Ponce followed him because what else would he do? So they pay the monthly rent on a quaint little apartment, and Ponce gets a job on the docks while Jack works odd hours at a little corner store down the street and takes a few classes at the junior college because he’s never satisfied with just the knowledge he holds. The place is small, and the city is busy, but they’re happy enough to classify the whole thing as “nice”.
Despite his want to be independent, Jack still gets a monthly allowance from his family. It’s more than enough to support him, hell, it’s more than enough to support both of them, but Jack is insistent on doing things “the natural way”, and Ponce hates the implications of living together off of Jack’s money, so they bring home their measly paychecks at the end of the week and split the rent to give to the landlady upstairs and call it fair. Nevermind the small fortune Jack has tucked away somewhere. Nevermind that he comes home every once in a while with a bottle of wine that exceeds both of their wages. Nevermind the way he gives some of these small luxuries to Ponce, who now has a dazzling pair of cuff links on his dresser, a soft knitted blanket on his bed, and a razor with a weighted handle on the bathroom counter. It’s not his money to control, so he lets Jack intersperse his life with these little frills until everything ties back to him in one way or another- not that he was good with separating his own self from Jack’s, to begin with.
With their lives so intertwined, it was easy to read when something was off. Jack was growing more and more distant as the year came to a close, and he wouldn’t say why. He wasn’t going home for the holidays, unusual as he normally jumped at the opportunity to spend time with his family, which Ponce initially thought was the reason for Jack’s restlessness. But it didn’t make sense that he’d choose to stay in New York if it was the distance that made him like this, and the tension didn’t lift when Jack’s brother visited for a few days to celebrate Christmas early.
It comes to a peak the Wednesday before Christmas, as Ponce recounts a story about someone who had forgotten to salt the docks before they started unloading crates, leading to what was effectively an ice skating rink on the sea. Jack stares out the window at the falling snow, tapping his fingers on the table with a vacant expression on his face.
Ponce frowns. “You haven’t heard a word I said.”
Jack hums noncommittally, proving Ponce’s point.
“Jack,” he sighs. Nothing. “John,” Ponce says loudly, and Jack starts, banging his knee on the table.
“Yes, sorry, I’m listening.” For what it’s worth, Jack has the decency to look ashamed, light pink coloring the tips of his ears.
Ponce levels him with an unimpressed stare, and Jack’s blush spreads across his nose. “You weren’t listening, and you’ve been somewhere else for weeks now. What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing, really,” Jack insists and reaches for his cup of coffee; it’s long since gone cold. Jack grimaces at the bitter taste of cold coffee, and again when Ponce raises an eyebrow at him. “Touché,” he mutters, pushing the cup away from him.
Ponce leans back in his chair, and the wood floor creaks below him. “You’re gonna have to tell me at some point.”
Jack drags his tongue across his teeth (not that Ponce is watching for it) and nods a bit. “Yeah,” he agrees, but he won’t look up from the grain of the table. Instead, he focuses on tracing a split in the wood with the nail of his thumb. He’s still worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and fine, ok, maybe Ponce is watching.
Jack moves backward suddenly, straightens his spine, cards a hand through his hair. He makes an effort to look at Ponce, but Jack’s gaze lands somewhere over his shoulder. “I, uh, ok” he laughs awkwardly, and Ponce doesn’t know what to expect.
Jack has had a flair for the dramatic for the 5 years Ponce has known him, and it plays into everything he does. He delivers the news of a hangnail with the same urgency as a house fire. The possibilities here are nearly endless. Ponce can’t tell if it’s safer to take it lightly or assume the worst.
Jack takes a deep breath and keeps talking. “I, uh, applied to Harvard around a month ago and, uh,” his eyes flicker over to meet Ponce’s, just for a moment. “I got in.” Jack cracks a smile as he says it, unable to contain his pride.
“Jack,” Ponce’s eyes widen, “that’s amazing!” And it is, really, but part of him almost expected it. Jack operates in a way where he can’t just have a slight interest in things- if he’s going to start something, then he can’t rest until he’s fully conquered it. He’s good with math, better with economics, and understands the government better than anyone his age has the right to. He’s a quick learner, too, and it helped him rise through the naval ranks in 18 months faster than any other sailor Ponce had seen in his 3 years overseas. The only thing Jack can’t get the hang of was foreign languages, and the only thing worse than his French was his German.
But his inability to say anything in the tongue besides “Danke” doesn’t matter when Jack is still nervously grinning at him from across the table.
“Congratulations,” Ponce says and hopes it carries the sincerity he means it with. “You deserve it.”
Even though he’s just been accepted to Harvard, one of the best universities in the world, Jack reacts sheepishly. “Thanks,” he says. “I’m hoping for a degree in government; see where that gets me.”
Ponce hums in response. Jack’s being modest because a degree in government could take him to the moon if he wanted it to. Whatever gaps the fancy Harvard degree leaves, Jack could surely fill with charisma and smooth-talking.
He’s taken again to tracing the split wood with his nail, and Ponce distantly wonders if Jack had been the one to put the crack there. “Is that what you’ve been so caught up in? Going to Harvard?”
Jack flinches, pushing a few loose waves of hair off of his face. “Partially,” he admits. “but, Ponce, I’ll...” he trails off, face twisting in an unpleasant grimace. “I have to move. It’s a 5 hour trip from here to Cambridge, and I can’t do that twice a day.”
It makes sense. Being a Harvard student is a lot, and Jack doesn’t need the added stress of commuting across state lines.
“When do you start?” Ponce asks.
“Next September, but it’d be better to get situated sooner.” He looks devastated, but Ponce can’t place why. Their place is nice, they were lucky to find a cheap two-bedroom apartment so nicely situated in the Bronx, but it’s not perfect. The ceiling leaks whenever it rains too hard and Ponce knows Jack wishes it were closer to the library. Without the things they (mostly Jack) adorn it with, it’s just an apartment in North New York.
“That’s plenty of time,” Ponce says, thinking it over. “We can take the subway down next month, find a place, and put in our notice. We could be out by February if you want.”
While Ponce was talking, he hadn’t noticed a look of shock overtaking Jack’s face. “‘We ’?” he parrots.
Ponce frowns. “Well, yeah.” Why is he confused? Unless... “You don’t want me to come?” He asks carefully.
“No! No, of course, I do!” Jack exclaims, straightening up from where he’d been slouching into the chair. “But-. I -.” he gestures around him. “You have a life here, Ponce. Why would you want to leave?”
Jack looks genuinely baffled, and Ponce kind of understands it. Jack views his life in chapters, chapters that draw neatly to a close and pick up right where the previous left off. A chapter is ending now- the chapter where he lives in New York City and works a menial job at the cornerstone and occasionally takes classes at the junior college- and a chapter is almost ready to begin- one where he lives in Cambridge and goes to Harvard and gets a degree in government. Jack plans for the future and studies his past, but hardly gives a thought to now, because now is temporary and flighty. Beginning a new chapter calls for change, complete change, but Ponce aches to show that change can be gradual. He can leave New York to start a new chapter at Harvard, but Jack doesn’t have to uproot everything he knows, even if that’s what he thinks. Ponce wants to show him that there can be security in continuity, and he wants to be the continuity for him.
“I have a life here because you asked me too,” Ponce replies easily. “I followed you here because you said it’d be fun to do something new; I can follow you to Massachusetts for the same reason.”
“Oh,” Jack says, but Ponce can tell he’s getting it. He meant what he said as it came out of his mouth, but Ponce doesn’t realize just how much he means it until then, as Jack looks at him with a mix of awe and something else he can’t place. Ponce realizes that he’d do anything for him. He’ll go to the moon with Jack and his government degree and build them a house of moon rock where Jack can hang his degree on the wall for everyone to see. He’d do anything in the universe Jack asked of him, and it’s a startling discovery to make at 2 pm, 5 days before Christmas.
“What about your job?” The pained nervousness has left Jack's face, but he’s still visibly puzzled.
Ponce laughs. “I unload cargo on the docks, Jack. they won’t miss me here, and they’ll certainly hire me there.”
He’s quiet again like he can’t believe Ponce would agree to come with him so easily. Jack thrives off of change, but he can’t imagine other people changing with him. It’s endearing that Jack almost didn’t want this, didn’t want to move, because it would mean leaving behind the little place they’ve carved for themselves in the Bronx, and the notion sits a bit too close for comfort to Ponce’s heart.
——
The best thing to do here is put the ball in Jack’s court, let him decide what the next course of action was, and that's what Ponce does. Christmas comes and goes, leaving a shiny new watch on Ponce’s wrist and a Kodak Retina on Jack’s bureau. Ponce had been saving for months to get that camera and it was entirely worth it to see Jack’s face light up as he pulled it out of the box. He was going to wait until Jack’s birthday to give it to him, but Harvard was important, and Jack was important, and, in all honesty, he didn’t want to wait another 5 months. Ponce thought the camera would remain unused until the trip to Cambridge, but Jack goes and surprises him by demanding that Ponce stays still as he watches the snowfall onto the street outside. He’s glad for the relative darkness as his embarrassment is surely visible, though Jack says the lighting is just perfect.
Things start falling into place two weeks into January, when Jack stumbles through the door, covered in snow, proudly brandishing two round-trip tickets for the greater-Boston area. “We can go down this weekend,” he says, and Ponce stares at the way his eyes gleam with excitement. “Ted told me about a couple of places looking for tenants this morning; it should only take a day to look at ‘em all.”
Ponce would come with him even if it took a month, but that doesn’t seem like the right thing to say.
Instead, he makes sure neither of them have to work on Saturday and prepares to spend the day touring rooms. He asks Jack, ever the upper-class golden boy, what he plans on wearing because it’d be embarrassing for them both if he was too underdressed.
“Maybe you should dust off the dress blues,” Jack teases. “I’m sure they’d love a man in uniform.”
Ponce laughs. “In that case, I think they’d like someone of a higher rank, Lieutenant.”
Jack flushes at that, unused to the address after being a civilian for four years. “Just a suit for me. Nothing too, uh, fancy,” he mutters before looking back down at the book he was reading.
——
The train ride to Boston is uneventful if Ponce ignores the way Jack buzzes with excitement. There aren’t many people aboard, but Jack chooses to sit next to him. He feels warm whenever their shoulders press together and blames it on the layers of wool between them.
“Ted was gonna show us the places in person,” Jack says quietly, digging through his pockets, “But something came up, so he told me the addresses ahead of time.”
Ponce nods. He doesn’t trust his voice not to break after such little use.
Jack must mistake his silence for distaste because he immediately apologizes. “It shouldn’t be too far of a walk.”
“It’s fine.” Ponce clears his throat. “It’ll be good to get used to the city.”
The four apartments they tour are nice enough, but Ponce sees Jack brighten when they reach the last place- a quaint apartment tucked into the southwestern corner of the Riverside neighborhood. It’s smaller than their place in NYC, and Jack loves it. The windows facing south show off the Charles River, and when the landlady - Mrs. Walsh- describes the way the sunlight catches the water, Jack looks ready to abandon anything left in the Bronx and move in that instant. Mrs. Walsh seems to notice, too, because she excuses herself with a smile to let them talk it over.
“I really like it here,” Jack breathes, as if that isn’t the biggest understatement of the century.
Ponce laughs through his nose at the nearly love-struck expression on Jack’s face. “It’s nice,” he agrees. Granted, he’s spent more time watching Jack than the apartment, but what he’s taken time to look at was good, and he trusts Jack’s judgment.
“Nice enough to sign on today?” Jack looks so damn hopeful, and Ponce doesn’t think he could say no even if he wanted to.
“Yeah, let’s do it,” he answers, just as Mrs. Walsh comes back into the room.
They sign off on a new lease and put down a payment, agreeing to be moved in by the third week of February. On the way out, Jack nudges him with his shoulder. “Just in time for your birthday, huh?”
“Guess so.” Birthdays weren’t a big deal until he met Jack, who jumps at the opportunity to give people gifts. He doesn’t think twice before getting Ponce anything he mentions, even when he really didn’t have to, but thank you, Jack. It makes it that much more difficult to return the favor when the person you’re trying to gift could afford anything he wants and asks for nothing in return.
He’s so distracted by this line of thought that Ponce doesn’t notice Jack has stopped and grabbed his arm. Ponce nearly slips on the icy ground, but Jack tightens his grip, pulling him upright to face each other. He's gnawing on his bottom lip, again , and Ponce kind of wants to make him stop.
“Are you sure you’re ok with moving?” His eyes search Ponce’s, and he’s sure Jack would be running his hands through his hair if not for the thick gloves and winter hat. “You’ve been so quiet; I don’t want you to feel like you have to come.”
Ponce’s face twists. It’s so unlike Jack to be this hesitant, but the last month has brought it out of him more than ever before. “Of course I’m ok with moving- we just agreed to rent an apartment, didn’t we?”
“But you won’t say anything beyond ‘it’s fine’, Ponce. What am I supposed to do with that?” Something lingers in Jack’s expression, too open for a street corner bustling with mid-afternoon traffic.
“It’s more important that you’re comfortable. I can adapt to whatever you’d like.” He’s telling the truth, but Jack is still uneasy. “Plus,” Ponce adds, “you’re better at talking than me.” That’s also the truth. Jack would be scarily good as a salesman.
That seems to placate him because he smiles softly. “You’ve gotta speak up if something’s bothering you, alright?” Jack’s holding himself in the relaxed, clear way that only ever makes an appearance in the comfort of their apartment, and Ponce finds his breath taken away by it. There’s nothing hidden behind the honey-colored flecks in his eyes or the quirk of his lips. Snowflakes catch on his eyelashes, and something comes loose on Ponce’s heart, something that’s been building for months- years, even- and he’d never been so aware of it until now.
Both of them jolt as church bells ring out, three times, causing Ponce to shake the sleeve of his coat out of the way and check his watch.
“Damn,” he swears, “the train leaves in 15 minutes.” he looks back up at Jack, a bit alarmed that they might miss the train.
Jack laughs, loud and bright, and starts pulling them toward the station. The confident air he usually carries himself with is back, but it’s more effortless than before.
They get to the station right as the train slides into the depot and take their seats when the passengers finish unloading. The train is mostly empty since it’s not 5 o’clock yet, but Jack still chooses a seat right next to him.
He doesn’t let go of Ponce’s arm until they reach the apartment in New York.
——
Moving is surprisingly easy, especially when they don’t have to take all of their furniture with them and Jack’s family lets them borrow their 4-door BMW with the promise that they’ll come to visit when they return it. It only takes two trips to move all of their things, though Jack insists on going by himself for the first trip. Ponce reluctantly agrees and spends the next 10 hours triple-checking their rooms for items that didn’t make it into boxes. He's been alone in the apartment before, obviously, but for some reason, it feels painfully different to see Jack drive away with a car full of his belongings. Ponce is flooded with relief when he gets back hours after the sun has set, complaining about his arms being sore and wanting to go to sleep even though it’s only 7 pm.
Early the next morning, Ponce finishes stacking the final box and goes back into the apartment to find Jack. He’s standing in the living room, arms crossed over his chest. The space looks smaller when he’s alone in it.
Sunlight is beginning to filter through the curtains, creating a backlight against Jack’s profile.
“He’s beautiful,” Ponce thinks, and the earnestness scares him a bit. The light frames the curve of his jaw and the way his sweater lays across his shoulders, and Ponce wishes he hadn’t already packed Jack’s camera so he could capture it forever.
But then Ponce clears his throat, and the moment is gone. Jack looks over at him, raising an eyebrow in silent question.
“We should probably leave before the roads get too busy,” Ponce says softly, and he can’t tear his eyes from Jack. It’s not necessarily a new problem, but it is a problem that he’s starting to notice more often. Hopefully, spending 4 hours staring out the window of the car will fix whatever is going on with him.
——
The trip doesn’t fix it, but the feeling does settle a bit, enough for Ponce to bury it below all of the other things clouding his mind right now. Driving seems to have the opposite effect on Jack, who becomes more awake the closer they get to Boston. He practically throws the car into park when they reach the curb in front of the apartment- their apartment, Ponce reminds himself- and scrambles to get out and open the passenger door for Ponce.
“What’s the big deal?” he teases. “I’ve seen this place before.”
“Yeah, but it's supposed to be different now that we live here,” Jack says excitedly as he fumbles with the keys in his pocket.
Ponce laughs, and Jack opens the door with a flourish. The apartment looks the same as it had before except for a dozen cardboard boxes, but that doesn’t dampen Jack’s spirit in the slightest. “Before we start carrying in boxes, we should probably figure out the bedroom situation.” He looks expectantly at Ponce, waiting for him to stake his claim.
He shrugs. “You can take the larger one. There’s room for your desk.” He sees Jack begin to open his mouth in question and cuts him off before he can speak. “ Yes , Jack, I’m sure. Just take the damn room.”
Jack grins in response. “Fine, it’s mine now. But you’re bringing the rest of the boxes inside.”
Ponce rolls his eyes and goes back to unload the car, but there’s no ill-will to it. Jack’s nature is infectious, and he can feel himself becoming a victim to it.
Despite Jack’s complaining the day before, moving the boxes inside takes surprisingly little time. The rest of the day is spent unpacking and moving furniture, and after several hours of organizing and reorganizing, Jack is satisfied with the layout of his room. He emerges out of the hallway victorious, the sleeves of his sweater and button-down pushed up past his forearms and his hair completely disheveled with all the times he had messed with it.
“Welcome back,” Ponce says. “I finished everything but the bathroom while you were...” he glances at Jack’s bedroom door, “...busy”
Jack flushes, and Ponce distantly thinks that pink is a good color for him.
Apparently, he hadn’t buried his feelings hard enough.
He hears Jack apologize and waves it off. “It’s fine. You can fix whatever you want in here; I’m gonna turn in for the night.” He knows the excuse is weak, knows he’s being abrupt, and that Jack doesn’t deserve it, but there’s too much to think about and he’d rather just sleep it off.
Before he can make it to the door, though, Jack catches his arm, and Ponce is reminded of them standing on the street corner and almost missing the train.
“Ponce, wait,” Jack says, and he’s being too quiet. It leaves Ponce feeling strangely exposed. “I should’ve said it earlier, but thank you for coming with me. I...” he trails off, and Ponce worries his heartbeat is audible in the silence.
Jack hesitates for a moment, then pulls Ponce into a full-body hug. Ponce startles and moves his hands around Jack’s waist, only realizing belatedly that it’s probably not appropriate. But Jack lowly murmurs “I appreciate you”, and it’s so close to his ear that he shivers, praying to God Jack didn’t notice. He only pulls away when Ponce’s back hits the door, and if he wasn’t blushing before, Jack is certainly blushing now.
“‘Course, Jack,” Ponce feels lightheaded. His voice is too strained. “I’d do anything for you if you asked.” It’s raw, and Ponce wants to take it back, but that’s dishonest and he couldn’t lie to Jack.
Jack stands with a respectable distance between them, hands shoved in his pockets. His face is tight and he’s worrying his bottom lip again, but he nods minutely.
“I’m gonna go to sleep now,” Ponce says softly, searching out the door handle behind him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He doesn’t wait to see Jack’s reaction before closing the door behind him. Sitting down and thinking about this would be the logical thing to do, but he’s done so much thinking today and the last thing he wants is to do more. Instead, he digs through his clothes to find something to sleep in and changes as quickly as possible.
Ponce’s mind races as he lays down in this unfamiliar room and his thoughts are tinged with a hope he knows he shouldn’t have. Ponce groans, shoving his face into his pillow. He’s thinking, which is exactly what he doesn’t want to be doing. Blessedly, he is actually tired after spending the day moving, and he can feel his eyes start to close involuntarily. Sleep comes quickly after that, and he can’t help that his dreams are filled with the memory of Jack’s sweater under his hands.
——
Ponce wakes up slowly, and it takes him a moment to recognize where he is, why he’s there. Details from the night before come flooding back, but they don’t seem so daunting after a proper night’s sleep.
He sits up in bed, stretching until his back pops, and devises a plan for how to confront Jack. He’ll apologize for making Jack uncomfortable, and that’ll probably be the end of it. Rejection might hurt, but it won’t hurt as much as lying, so Ponce makes do and prepares himself to wait until Jack has woken up.
Except he doesn’t have to wait, because Jack is already standing at the kitchen window with a cup of coffee in hand. He hasn’t noticed Ponce’s presence yet, and Ponce lets himself watch Jack for a moment. He’s relaxed, still wearing thick winter pajamas and his glasses, and Ponce feels himself fall a little more for him.
There’s another cup of coffee sitting on the counter, and it causes Ponce’s heart to stir. Maybe he won’t have to build up a wall to face rejection. Maybe that something he noticed on the street corner could find a home here, with them.
Jack finally notices him standing in the kitchen entrance, and he doesn’t look mad or uncomfortable at all. He nods to the coffee, and Ponce smiles, thinking maybe they can work this out.