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Jack shouldered open the door to his apartment with a quiet sigh. His back felt twenty pounds heavier with his bulky backpack weighing it down, and the ends of his hair were still dripping from the flash of rain that had appeared overhead for no fucking reason while he was walking home.
The entranceway was dark, but as he walked further in he could hear faint sounds of Mark playing video games in the recording space. He was probably making a video, which meant Jack shouldn’t disturb him. He knew to respect that—Mark would’ve done it for him—but the fact that he couldn’t immediately go bother his boyfriend only deepened his frown.
Jack abandoned his backpack on the kitchen table without unloading it and walked into the bedroom, careful to be quiet. He took off his soaking-wet clothes and laid down heavily on the bed, feeling the weight of the day cave down onto him. He pulled the blankets up around his shoulders and faced the walls, closing his eyes and trying desperately to sleep.
Sooner than Jack had expected, he heard the door creak open behind him. He could hear Mark’s clothes hitting the floor as he disrobed for bed, and the mattress lowered as his boyfriend settled into the covers.
“Jack? You awake?”
There was no reason to pretend otherwise. Jack rolled over and looked up at Mark’s calm face. “Hey. What were you recordin’?”
Mark took one look at him and frowned concernedly. Jack cursed himself for being so readable.
“Some shitty indie horror game. What’s wrong? You look upset.”
Part of Jack wanted to brush it off and internalize it, but Mark had always been a great listener. He scooted forward and put his arms around his boyfriend’s torso, and he couldn’t help feeling grateful when he felt arms encircling his as well.
“Talk to me, Jack. What happened?”
Jack sighed and relayed the day’s events, probably in a muffled voice now that he had his face smooshed up against Mark’s chest: one of his videos hadn’t uploaded properly, he witnessed somebody hitting a raccoon with their car, he’d had to deal with a lot of impatience and anger from people who wanted to know why he’d only uploaded one video that day, he’d missed the bus on the way home, it had rained while he walked, etcetera etcetera. Mark listened calmly and quietly, his grip around him solid and strong.
“Jack,” he said finally, “I’m really sorry your day was shit.”
Jack sighed, scooting back a little so that he could see Mark’s face. “It’s just frustrating, y’know?” he asked, somewhat pitifully. “I mean, I work so hard at the shit I create, only for people to get angry with me when the tiniest shit goes wrong. It’s like I’m not allowed to make mistakes.”
“It’s bullshit. Believe me, I understand. Just upload a stupid little apology video tomorrow and move on. People will forget eventually.”
“What should I do, then? Run face-first into a wall? Maybe people’ll forgive me then.” Jack smiled, trying to kid, but he didn’t really feel all that amused.
Mark indulged him, pulling him back in. “Don’t worry about it. No one’s gonna care after tomorrow.”
Jack nodded, letting this soak in. Then, because he couldn’t help asking, “What about the raccoon?”
Mark thought about this, during which time his other hand found itself stroking Jack’s hair and lulling him into a hypnotic sense of security.
“Uh…would you believe that it’s in a better place now?”
“I think it survived.”
“Good. Then what’s the problem?”
“Well, half its bones are probably shattered.”
“Well then maybe someone will pick it up and bring it to a vet’s office.”
“It’s a raccoon, Mark, not a fluffy puppy that people’ll actually give a shit about.”
It was clear Mark was trying not to laugh. “Well then I’m sorry, Captain Pessimism, but I don’t think I have the answer.”
Mark’s arm withdrew, and he started to back away when Jack blurted, “Wait, don’t go! Can I…can we do this for just a little longer? It’s makin’ me feel better.”
He was almost embarrassed to ask it this way, but Mark smiled almost fondly and pulled him back in, shielding his face with his chest. With Mark’s body warmth holding Jack like a wall, and with both his boyfriend’s arms and the comforter’s fuzzy interior settling over him, he couldn’t help feeling a lot safer.
“’Course, Jack. We can stay like this all night if you want.”
Jack did want that. And so it was.