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It felt so sudden, but it was also just another day.
Jackson had been minding his business, reading a book, his mind off, playing a scene as he followed the lines on the page; he was so stuck in his own little world that when monty suddenly jumped on the couch beside him he was completely knocked out of the movie in his head.
“I want to go to Alaska” was all Monty said, throwing his legs onto Jackson's lap. Jackson huffed in annoyance as he folded the page in his book, leaving a mark he knew would never go away now.
‘Why?” he asked, chucking the book onto the table. Monty only shrugged, picking at the muesli bar he had brought along with him.
“Because i’m a bit sick of being here, and radiator springs just feels like a second house, it’s too familiar, besides, i’d like to see the evergreens,”
“You do realise it’s winter there right now, yeah?”
“Jackson i'm pretty sure it’s always winter in alaska”
“It’s not, i-” Jacksons sighed. “Okay then, when do you want to go?” he asked with a small smile.
“Ummm….now. I think now is good,"Monty nodded confidently. Jackson couldn’t help but laugh.
“Baby, that’s a bit soon, don’t you think? Come now, be serious??”
“Oh I am, I've already packed our bags,” Monty said in full confidence.
“What about gas?”
“We’re millionaires.”
“Flights?”
“Who said anything about flying?” Monty screwed up his face. Jackson couldn’t help but laugh.
“You can’t be serious!”
“Oh i am” monty said dramatically “now get up! I wanna go,” he said.
The trip was long, and for a huge chunk of it, Jackson drove. Monty constantly had his head out the window, he complained the most when they were crossing the border to Canada, since Jackson thought it was a good idea to bring a firearm in case of bears; he kept it but the fee irritated him.
Ironically, Monty's favourite part when they finally did make it into Alaska were the bears themselves. He wasn’t getting out of the car and walking straight up to them, but he got excited and grabbed Jackson's arm and made him look whenever they passed by one.
The little towns along the way were pretty cosy, Jackson vaguely remembered Monty saying something about feeling like he was ‘right at home’ , which confused him more than anything.
One night he came out, probably around four in the morning with a cigarette in hand. “The tobacco over here tastes weird,” Jackson said. Monty looked up, heavy bags under his eyes.
“It’s just tobacco though?” he gave a half grin, holding a pen and tiny book in hand.
“Well i mean not really-”
“You know you don’t have to smoke it, right?”
“What can I say? I'm an addict” he said, sitting beside him. “So…what are you writing?” he asked.
“Um….a bucket list” monty looked up.
“A bucket list??”
“Yeah, you know, like…some things you wanna do in your lifetime?” Monty slowed down his writing, staring blankly at the page…
“Can I see?” Jackson leant against him.
“Sure,” Monty said, handing the book over. It was old. The pages were turning brown, they were covered in water stains, some old pieces of food and what Jackson assumed was either blood or brown ink? He rubbed the page lightly; he could feel the graininess under his thumb, even the ink looked faded.
“This is…wow, how long have you had this?” Jackson asked, giving Monty a quick glance. Monty only shrugged
“ehh, since i was twelve,”
Jackson nodded, having no words to give him. He just kept reading over and over, the more he moved towards the front of the book the worse the handwriting became; each line seemed to be written in a different medium; in blue ink, red ink, black ink, led pencils, mechanic pencils, faber castell markers, crayons, even some were in paint, and most but two were crossed out.
As he got to the front, he saw Monty's name, 3 crossed out addresses and the first thing on his bucket list. Written in fashionably terrible handwriting; terrible cursive of course and put in yellow crayon was the words ‘go to alaska’, the words had been written so big in the a5 book that ‘alaska’ looked like it was melting down the side of the page as he couldn't fit the whole sentence on one line.
“Is that why you wanted to come here?” Jackson looked at monty,
“Yeah, it was the first and maybe last thing on that list,”
“Huh…what about ‘dance with my husband in the moonlight’ ,’’ Jackson's voice was somewhat mocking, but he found it cute, his cigarette dropped from his lip, trying to hold it as he smiled.
Monty’s face turned red, covering it “oh god” he laughed “im sorry, i was really cheesy,”
“No I don't think it’s cheesy at all, '' Jackson laughed. “I think…I think it’s sweet,” he said, closing the book. “...i'm not your husband but…would you dance with me?” he held out a hand to Monty.
Monty looked up at Jackson, his gaze softened.
He didn’t say anything, he just took his hand, being pulled to his feet, and pulled in closer.
“What about the music?” Monty asked nervously, hand laced on Jackson's arm, his head only at the other man's chest.
“Just….listen to your surroundings” Jackson said. “That’s our music….the sound of the wind, of the crickets, the sound of the fireflies buzzing, the frogs down at the creek, the sound that our feet make on the grass, leaving a trail behind us while i hold the only god i’ve ever known, the only love …that i ever known” jacksons said, swaying with monty.
And he felt it, it wasn’t something coming from a radio, or his phone, but the thing he tuned into the most was the sound of Jackson's heartbeat. This didn’t feel like it was just another day, it felt like a moment that he could never forget. A moment that he would forever play over in his mind, like a movie scene, and despite being so far away from it, it felt like home.
They were dancing under the evergreens.
. A few days later when they were meant to go home,Jackson woke up to find Monty wasn’t there. Not in the literal sense, where you’d look around the room and find you were physically alone, but the sense where you reach to your lover and feel frostbitten before you even lay a finger on them. When you try to shake them awake, confused as to why they aren’t responding, and worse, when you find the latter on the table under a bottle of that same lovers pills they wouldn’t tell you about.
The funeral was big of course. And when reading out the letter to everyone, the truth about it all, the suffering, his real story, the cancer diagnosis jackson had been oblivious to, and everyone else apparently, and the apology to anyone who was truly hurt by a suicide; he hadn’t wanted to let the illness beat him, and he was sure it would.
Monty always did like to race; but he was doing it off the track too, so it seemed. Jacksons screamed and cried as he was pulled from the casket, Monty looked so at peace; the same as he did that night they’d danced together.
But by the time Jackson got home, he felt nothing but the unsettling numbness; the quiet of the house rang louder than anything else, and it hurt, physically and emotionally. It grew louder and louder as he put down Monty's bag before the trip, before simply walking over to that same seat he was in before they left.
He picked up the book.
He unfolded the page,
And he kept reading; going back into his fantasy world. And just like that, nothing else mattered.
It had felt so sudden , but it was also just another day now.