Chapter Text
After the fairytale run to the Frozen Four in Jack Zimmerman’s senior year, the next year the Samwell men’s hockey team finds themselves not only back in the tournament, but in the finals. Jack sits right behind the glass of Samwell’s bench, Shitty by his side, bursting with pride as he watches his former team fly across the ice. However, he can’t help but follow the path #15 takes more often than the others. Whatever. He’s allowed.
Jack never got over how proud he feels every time he sees Bitty on the ice. Back when they played, even more so as their relationship blossomed, his heart would always soar when Bitty would catch the puck, pass, or shoot toward the goal.
Bitty skates past, catches Jack’s eye, and grins. Jack returns the smile, but it slowly falls as he catches movement behind Bitty. The same asshole who checked him so badly the year before, is barreling full speed toward him. Jack’s heart plummets, and he leaps to his feet.
“Bittle, watch it!!” He shouts but it’s drowned by celebrations as their opponent scores.
Bitty never sees it coming.
The sickening crack of the impact, the gasps and outcry from the crowd, the refs whistle are all white noise as Jack watches Bitty collapse to the ice in a tangle of limbs. All playing stops. There’s panic in the air as trainers rush the ice. Jack sees Lardo clap her hands to her face, Chowder quickly hugging her to his side, and all hell breaks loose within him.
Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong. Why isn’t Bitty getting up? Why isn’t he being helped to his feet? How bad it is? Oh god, how bad is it? Jack cranes his neck, desperate to see what’s going on. He clamors to the glass, Shitty grabbing hold of his arm to hold him back. Jack wrenches free, climbing over the wall to hit the ice.
“Bittle!” he shouts, running as best he can. He can’t sit Bitty through the crowd, which seems to grow exponentially with each step. Arms grasp his, hindering him, and Jack begins swearing in French at every person in the sea of humanity between them. Why does it feel Bitty is getting farther and farther away?
“Shit, is he breathing?” he hears a nameless, faceless body ask beside him and Jack’s heart seizes.
“No, merde, please...Bitty, hang on mon dieu…”
The crowd parts and Jack’s eyes fall on his boyfriend, lying limp on the ice. He locks eyes with his former trainer, whose eyes are shining. The trainer shakes his head and Jack’s legs buckle, collapsing to the ice.
“No...Bitty, god, no. Bittle...Bittle!!”
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“Bittle!”
Jack sits bolt upright with a sharp gasp. His hands fumble in the dark a moment before finding purchase in the sheets, and Jack holds on for dear life. He’s panting, gasping, his chest constricting with each breath. He quickly looks to the other side of the bed, cool and empty, and his chest tightens even more. He is alone. Bitty. Where is Bitty? Samwell. Back at Samwell. Is he okay? God, is he okay? Jack remembers the sight of him, slumped motionless on the ice. White, hot panic slices through his heart.
No...no, no, he can’t…
Jack immediately reaches toward his nightstand, fumbling with his cell phone with shaking hands. He taps the screen harder than he means to and the phone is knocked from his palm, getting lost in the folds of the blankets.
“Merde,” Jack swears, scrambling to pick it up. It’s already ringing. Jack presses the phone so hard against his ear it begins to ache.
It rings. And rings.
“Merde, Bittle,” Jack swears shakily. “Answer the phone.”
“Hey, there! You’ve reached Eric Bittle. Sorry I couldn’t answer, I’m probably elbows deep in flour. But leave a message!!”
Jack’s pulse quickens as he hear the phone pick up, but his heart sinks when it’s the voicemail. It helps to hear Bittle’s voice. A little. That sweet southern drawl that Jack needs to hear. In real life, not over a machine. He needs to know Bitty is okay.
“B-Bittle,” Jack gasps out, his voice shaking. “Bitty...call...god, please call me back. Please…”
He hangs up and stares at the screen, willing the phone to light up with Bitty’s returned call. He always calls back, Jack tells himself. Always. Never mind that it’s three in the morning, Bitty always calls back. He huffs and hops off the bed, pacing the perimeter of his bedroom exactly 2.5 times before dialing again.
It rings out.
“Hey there! You’ve reached Eric Bittle. Sorry I couldn’t--”
Jack sobs out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, falling back onto the bed and drawing his knees up to his chest. Tears roll down his cheeks and Jack swears in French as he swipes at them with heavy hands. Breathe, he tells himself. Breathe. You’re fine. Bitty’s fine. He’s okay. Crisse, but what if he isn’t? Maybe that’s why he’s not answering. The room is shrinking. He’s suffocating. Jack is gulping air, and he feels like he’s drowning, looking upward at the ocean surface.
He’s just about to dial again when his phone lights up.
FaceTime call from ‘Bittle’.
Jack can’t hit ‘accept’ fast enough and he clutches the phone as the call connects. He vaguely worries about crushing it, then suddenly Bittle’s face appears in the palm of his hand, sharp with concern, if not tired at the edges.
“Baby?” came Bittle’s voice through the speaker and suddenly Jack’s breached the surface. That soft, sweet, sleepy-yet-alert voice that sends a jolt through him, yet lifts him up so easily. He’s too swept up in his relief to answer.
“Jack?” Bitty speaks again, his voice a little louder. “Honey, can you hear me? I heard your message, what’s wrong?”
Jack fights through the tightness of his throat, jaw working wordlessly as he just stares at his boyfriend’s face.
“Jesus, you’re starting to scare me. Jack!” he calls sharply.
Jack jumps at that, blinking rapidly as he settles back into reality. “Bitty…” he croaks, his voice strangled against the tightness that remained in his chest.
“Oh no, “ Bittle whispered, dipping slightly out of the frame as he sits up quickly. “Jack, you’re having an attack...”
“Are you okay?” Jack blurts out, breathing too quickly. The world is beginning to dim around the edges.
“Oh, sweetheart, yes,” Bitty says, nodding quickly. “I’m here. Everything’s okay. Are you home?”
Jack nods, nearly frantic. “Yes,” he replies, his voice shaking so much in just one syllable.
Bittle leans more toward the camera. “Jack, listen to me. Listen to my voice, okay sweetheart? Breathe for me. Breathe. Just like we’ve practiced. In for four, out for seven all right? In, two, three, four...out, two, three…”
Jack draws in a shaky breath, rushing it all out by the time Bittle only gets to three. He inhales again at Bittle’s encouragement, and soon, several breathing cycles later, the bonds constricting his chest loosen. He feels the weight easing off of him, his vision becoming clearer. Jack is able to focus better, his eyes falling on Bittle. Sweet, soft Bittle, who wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s here. He’s okay. Jack wipes the wetness from the corners of his eyes, sighing hard and slumping against the headboard.
“Jack?”
“I’m okay,” Jack replies, sighing and nodding slowly. “I think...I think the worst is over..”
“Thank God, you scared me.”
“You scared me first,” Jack replies but sighs. “I had a nightmare. One that felt really, really real, and I…I thought you were...” his voice breaks slights and he scrubs his face with his free hand, fighting the slight sting of remaining tears.
“Shh…” Bitty shushes him gently and shakes his head. “I’m right here, Jack. I’m okay. Go get some water, okay? Take me with you, but go get a glass of water.”
Jack nods slowly and his body feels sluggish now as the panic subsides. He tries to keep the camera at his face as he slips out of bed and pads through to his kitchen.
“Do you need your medication?” Bitty’s soft, steady voice rose from the phone at his side. “How bad was this one?”
“Pretty bad, but I think I’m alright without it,” Jack replies, his voice stronger. More calm. “You’ve helped so much. You pulled me back, Bits…”
He hears Bittle sigh with relief. “Good,” he said. “I’m glad, honey.”
Jack sets the phone down on the countertop, camera facing up, and he reaches into the cabinet with steadier hands. He pulls down his Samwell coffee mug, and he hears Bitty laugh softly at the sight of it.
“Homesick?” he asks.
Jack smiles and shakes his head. “No...you-sick.”
Jack fills it and holds it by the handle, taking another slow breath as his eyes slide across his alma mater’s name.
“Jack Zimmerman...drink,” Bitty said, firmly but gently.
Jack huffs a small laugh and drinks several swallows. He then sets the mug back down to the counter and picks up the phone.. “You’re starting to get bossy, Bits.” he says after a second, smiling tiredly at the screen. “You looking to get that C next year?”
At that, Bittle huffs himself into laughter, his free hand pressed to his chest. “You must be feeling better, if you’re chirpin’ me.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m better now,” Jack sighs and nods, padding back to the bedroom. “I’m sorry I woke you,” he adds, feeling sheepish.
“Don’t worry none about that,” Bitty says quickly, waving his hand. The camera jostles slightly but stills as Bitty props his phone up, laying on his side to face it.
Jack groans softly and slides into the bed, stretching out and rolling onto his side. He pulls the other pillow over and leans his phone length-wise against it. He smiles at Bitty’s sleepy face, and he finally feels normal. Like all is well.
“You want to talk about it?” Bitty asks, and Jack shakes his head.
“Not now. Maybe in the morning.”
“It is morning,” Bitty chirps, good-naturedly.
Jack chuckles softly. “When the sun’s up, then.”
“Okay,” Bitty replies, smiling wide.
“Are you still coming to Providence this weekend?” Jack asks, voice thick and drowsy.
Bitty nods. “Mmhmm. M’last class Friday is at 10. I’ll be at your apartment in time for lunch.”
Jack hums and closes his eyes. “I’ll be at practice then.”
“Good thing you gave me a key last time.”
Jack grins then opens his eyes, pleased to see as big a grin on his boyfriend’s face. “I did, didn’t I?”
Bitty chuckles softly. “You did.” He pulls the covers up to his shoulder and sighs slowly. “You’re all right now, Jack. You can rest now. I’ll stay here til you fall asleep.”
Jack nestled in the blankets, staring at Bitty before his eyes slid closed. Sleep was beginning to pull him back under. “I wish you were really here beside me...instead of in a phone.”
“I know, sweetheart. But soon. A year from now, I’ll be right there.”
“Mmm...Bitty?”
“Hmm?”
Jack cracked his eyes open, a sweet sleepy smile spreading across his face because, oh, how he loves Bittle so.
“Love you,” he murmurs, eyes closing once more.
“I love you too, Jack. Sleep well, baby.”
Jack’s mind and body finally --finally-- relax, letting the last dregs of his anxiety melt away. He falls asleep to the sounds of Bittle’s breathing, comforted knowing his boyfriend is safe and by his side. Even though they are miles apart.