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Jack was sitting at the central hub when there was a small flash of golden orange light at his elbow. The brightness caught his attention, but it wasn’t enough to garner anyone else’s. He looked around to see if anyone else had noticed the light, and when he was met with nothing, he glanced down. There, on the desk in a spot that had only recently been vacant, was a cream coloured envelope with his name on it in emerald green ink.
Picking it up, he turned it over and looked at the envelope. It was thick, good quality paper with small ridges, showing that it was handmade and probably expensive. His name, in all its rich green colouration, wasn’t well penned. In fact, it was such distinct handwriting that he could recognize it as his own almost immediately. When had he written a letter to himself and when had it been brought here? Had it appeared in a flash of light? What had happened?
He turned it over carefully in his hands, feeling the irregularities in its make, the way it seemed to tingle in his fingers. With a frown, he peered closely at the wax stamp stealing it closed. It was green, like the ink, with a tree pressed into it. The seal popped off easily, releasing the soft smell of Robby’s cologne. Jack’s frown deepened. A letter written to him, in his own handwriting, that smelled like Robby?
The letter inside was written in that same green ink, the first few lines slightly smudged as if the writer wasn’t used to using such fine ink pens. It was also written in the same handwriting, the looping mess that he always complained about and Robby always complimented. Robby said it was calm, like the sky on a warm summer day. It made no sense to Jack, but he would take any compliment that Robby gave him. He’d been thinking about Robby when the letter had appeared; thinking about how much he wanted to ask Robby for something more than whatever it was they had going on. They’d been encroaching on a weird, playfully flirtatious realm that neither of them seemed to be able to - or wanted to- stop. Jack certainly didn’t, he wanted Robby to flirt with him, he wanted to flirt back. When Robby leaned in, his shoulders relaxing from the stress he was under every goddamn day of his life, and cracked that special smile that Jack had never seen pointed at anyone else, it made him feel special. It made him feel seen; seen by Robby in a way that was new. Jack had his fair share of dalliances since his wife died, and Robby had almost always been a bachelor since Jack had met him - minus two serious relationships that didn’t last - so he’d seen Robby flirtatious faces with women and men alike at all sorts of different places, but that smile? That smile was special and only for Jack. And Jack wanted to know what it meant.
Hey Jack, the letter began in his own handwriting.
I know this is weird, but it’ll make sense when you meet - the next few words were smudged too much for Jack to read - and that’ll be within the next few months. I also know you probably won’t believe this, but I am writing to you from the future. Specifically, your future. I’m you. Or, I was you. You’re going to become me. This time travel bullshit is confusing and I don’t understand it right now, so you won’t understand it either, but to make you believe, when we were 13 - Jack blushed, hiding the letter from view and looking around to see if anyone had been reading over his shoulder.
Dear God, he thought. He was reading a letter from himself. He’d never told anyone that, not even his late wife or his therapist. He was reading a letter from his future self! How the fuck was that happening?
Do you believe me now? Well, I know you believe me now, because I’ve read a variation of this letter before, and now I’m writing it. The letter will disappear when you’ve finished reading it, so you can’t just save it and send it back to yourself later. I can’t be sure this is even the same letter that I got, I’m just working on what I remember. I know that story was in it, and I know that this explanation was in it, so I’m trying my best here. You know me, Jack, you’re me. We have a good memory.
Anyway, the reason that I’m writing this letter is to let you know that Robby is going to ask you out soon and to advise you to not fuck it up. I don’t know what the first original Jack did when all this started to warrant a magic letter from the future, but I am sure as hell not letting it happen again. The future kind of depends on you not fucking it up. So, don’t fuck it up, Jack. When he asks you out, say yes. Let go of all of the stupid, fucked up thoughts you have about your self worth, let go of all of that shit. Robby loves you, and right now, when you’re reading this letter, you love him, too. Don’t let that get away from you.
I know you have questions, I had questions when I got my letter. So, let me answer a few questions for you:
Yes, his dick is huge and the sex is better than you could have ever imagined, but! Oh, Jack, you’re in for a treat. You think you love him now? You think that you couldn’t love him any more than you already do?
Wait until you wake up and he’s made you pancakes. Until he’s bringing you breakfast in bed and then getting back under the sheets with you to feed you strawberries. Until he’s kissing you and it tastes like orange juice. Until he reads you the news while you eat those pancakes (which are amazing, I will add).
Wait until he makes you laugh so hard your stomach hurts and you can’t breathe. Robby already understands your sense of humour, so every joke is going to hit. Every snarky little comment is going to make you chuckle. He’ll make you laugh harder than you’ve laughed in years.
Wait until you wake up from a nightmare wrapped in his arms, and he’s whispering into your hair that he loves you and that you’re safe and that you’re at home. Until you feel calm enough in those hands to tell him about your nightmares. Wait until you fall asleep with him pressed against your back and wake up without having had a single bad dream. Wait until you realise that it’s been days, weeks, months since you thought about killing yourself. Until you realise that he’s talked you down from that ledge that you call home right now, that ledge that you never thought you’d leave.
Because, Jack, you do leave it. Robby helps you leave that ledge. He doesn’t pull you off it or sweep you off your feet. He holds out a hand and lets you take the step yourself, and you want to take that step. Oh, Jack, you’re going to want to take that step so badly it hurts. And he’ll be there, waiting for you to step into his arms again and you’ll want nothing more than to be there forever. You do love him, Jack, but you’re going to love him so much more.
I promise you that.
-Jack
His heart pounding in his chest, Jack folded the letter and stuffed it back into its envelope, looking around him once more. The Pitt was pretty calm, the night shift slowly drifting out and being replaced by the day shift. Jack could hear Robby’s low rumble coming from the direction of the lockers. He watched as the other man round the corner and noticed that something about him seemed a little off. Not in a bad way, just off.
“Hey,” Robby said, coming to a stop in front of Jack. “You wanna run the board?”
Jack smiled. “Sure.”
Robby took in a deep breath before barreling on, a look of slight panic on his face. “And do you maybe want to get drinks on Friday? We both have it off and I was thinking, it’s been a while since we went out.”
Jack chuckled, hoping his nerves weren’t showing. “You asking me on a date, Robinovich?”
“Yeah,” Robby said. “Yeah, I am.”
“Oh.” Jack blinked at him. Don’t fuck this up, he’d been told by his future self. He smiled, a smooth, flirtatious thing that made Robby’s face go even redder than it already was. “Then, yeah, I’d love to.” He leaned in closer. “But I think Friday s a little too far away. Want to come to mine after your shift?”
Robby nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
Jack smiled even wider. “Let’s run that board, then.”