Archive of Our Own

Soulmates had different ways of connecting. Everyone was a little bit different in the everyday ways they found each other, but every pair of soulmates was capable of feeling if the other was in serious trouble. It was always reassuring to Jack that there was someone out there who would always have his back, and who always needed him. Jack’s parents had shared dreams. Jack had started hoping from an early age that his soulmate didn’t share his dreams, they weren’t happy things. His dad had once said he had a teammate who felt his soulmate’s pain and vice versa. The thought of that made Jack shudder. He could only hope his poor soulmate didn’t feel it every time Jack got checked, Hockey was a violent sport. Then one day he felt a tingling on his palm. He glanced down and saw to his surprise words written there in blue pen that he certainly hadn’t put there.

‘3 eggs to 4, half brown sug. More butter.’ The handwriting was neat and round, it was very cheerful.

Jack stared at what appeared to be modifications to a baking recipe. Before he could start overthinking it he picked up a pen and scrawled a ‘Hello?’ There were a few long moments when he figured whoever was at the other end of the writing was freaking out. Then new words started appearing at a rapid rate.

‘OMG! This is fantastic! Who are you?! Wait you can’t tell me! I forgot! Sorry! I just! Wow! I guess you’re my soulmate?!’ Jack laughed at the enthusiastic words that appeared all down his forearm. His soulmate was right, sometimes soulmate connections allowed communication like theirs clearly did but these connections had limitations, one of which was no names.

‘Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Were you writing a recipe?’ He asked.

‘Yeah! I bake a lot, I usually have a notebook but not today and I didn’t want to forget.’ Came the answer.

‘That’s awesome,’ Jack wrote back. An important thought occurred to him. ‘Is it rude to ask your gender?’ He had been wondering the past year or so whether his soulmate would be male or female. Not all soulmates were romantic, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to think there was much of a difference male or female anyway. It had taken him a while to realize that that was a big deal to some people.

‘Oh! I’m a boy! What about you?’

‘I’m a guy.’ Jack answered, realizing that this meant a different sort of life starting now.

‘That makes sense.’ The other boy answered. Jack just sent a question mark back. ‘Your handwriting is a mess :p’

“Jack are you ready for practice?” His mother’s voice made him jump.

“Coming!” he called.

‘I have to go, you can chirp me later.’ Jack wrote quickly.

‘Talk to you later!’

Jack didn’t bother to scrub the ink off of his arms, he didn’t have time but even if he did he wouldn’t have. The words on his arms were a warm reassurance that his soulmate was out there. Somewhere out there was an excitable boy who baked, and had bubbly handwriting. As long as he was out there Jack would never be alone.

After that day Jack always has a pen or marker on his person, along with a package of wet wipes if he can manage it. It was easier to be able to wipe the words off in the middle of a conversation, because they frequently ran out of room. His soulmate is a glowing point of happiness in a world that seems to be growing darker. Jack doesn’t hurt anymore when he hears Kent humming whatever music his soulmate was listening to and thus was running through Kent’s head. He did his best to forget the hope in Kent’s eyes when he asked if Jack listened to a lot of classical and the way it died when Jack said no. He doesn’t notice the way Kent gets angry when Jack gets distracted by talking to his soulmate, the jealousy because Jack can talk to his.

Jack and his soulmate talk all the time. Alicia buys Jack special markers that won’t seep chemicals into his skin and will wash off easily because she worries about him. Jack tells his soulmate about it, how he wishes he could mail some to him so he’d be safe too. He can’t, they can’t do addresses either. His soulmate laughs at him and promises to order some. They talk about everything. His soulmate tells him about baking, and figure skating, and everything he did that made him smile, or think of Jack. Jack talks about history documentaries, and his parents, and hockey, always hockey. Occasionally they talk about the hard things. Instead of curling up alone, these days Jack curls up with his markers when he’s in a bad place. His soulmate helps talk him down, always comforting and bright.

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Eric adores his soulmate; the dorky Canadian boy at the other end of the writing on his arm. Writing to him is his favorite part of every day. They talk about everything from complaining about early mornings to confessing things that no one else knows. His soulmate is the first and only person Bitty comes out to when he lives in Georgia. His handwriting is shaky when he writes it but the response is quick and supportive.

‘Thank you for telling me, I know it can’t be easy, living in the US south. If you ever need anything let me know. I’ve always got your back’ The words warm Bitty’s heart. He knows that if he ever needed it, his soulmate would ignore their agreement to give it some time and wait to meet naturally and find a way to find him.

‘Thank you’ He answers glad that his soulmate can’t see how weepy he is.

‘It’s the least I can do. I owe you. After all you have to put up with all my crap.’ It’s not the first self-deprecating statement Eric has received. He always shoots them down but tries to do it gently, but his patience is wearing thin.

‘Don’t you dare! You are my best friend, I care about you more than anything and I am always here for you because I want to be not because I am obligated to! I want to help because I care! And I don’t want you to feel obligated to me in anyway either, if you do you need to stop. If you’re here for me because you care then I’m glad, if you’re here for me out of some twisted sense of’

‘Stop, stop! That’s not what I meant, I’m sorry!’ the words interrupted Eric’s. ‘Tabernac, I’m sorry, I do care. Of course I care. You’re my closest friend. It’s just that I don’t get why you care about me sometimes. I’m such a mess. Sometimes I feel like I need to be better to deserve you’ Eric feels like his heart was going to break.

‘Oh, honey, no. I do not care one bit if you’re a mess. You are my mess, and I love you. I want you to be better but only because I don’t want you to be hurting anymore. You don’t have to change a damned thing for my sake.’ He insists.

‘You love me?’

‘Of course I do, I mean, sorry if that’s too much or anything and right now we’re gonna stick with platonic friend love since I haven’t met you. I mean I don’t even know what you look like, not that it matters what you look like, it doesn’t but. Lordy it’s complicated but just- I care about you so much, and I don’t have any words to describe it except I love you.’ Bitty says, hating that he managed to ramble when writing.

‘I understand. I love you too.’ The words were written along Bitty’s fingers as they had run out of room on his arm. He was properly crying now. They both take a few moments to wipe marker off of their arms before new words appear.

‘Don’t cry, I know you are.’

‘Shush, they’re happy tears.’

‘I know but I can’t stand the thought of you crying.’ Was the answer. Bitty sniffed and wiped his eyes.

‘You’re such a sweetheart. I can’t wait to meet you, you charmer.’ Eric wrote back.

‘Haha, I’ll try not to disappoint.’

‘You never could.’ Eric tells him honestly.

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Jack was so proud when his soulmate starts playing hockey. He knew it was for him, since he talked about it all the time. Jack never told him how good he was at hockey, or that he was gonna go pro. When he talked to his soulmate he was able to separate the game he loved from the future that filled him with fear. He was worried about the fact that his soulmate quit figure skating though.

‘Was it because of the bullying?’ He asks hesitantly. His soulmate had confessed to him about the way people treated him. Jack had been there, helplessly writing words of love and encouragement when his soulmate was stuck in a utility closet all night.

‘Not entirely no.’ It’s a confession, ‘Really it was because you can only advance so far in figure skating in Georgia, and I wanted to try something new anyway. It’s still skating which is what I love and you make it sound so fantastic’

‘Well, then I’m glad, if you need any tips I’d be glad to help.’ Jack offers

‘And have you chirp me to hell and back? I think not’

‘I promise I’ll be nice… probably’ Jack grins at his own words, imagining his southern boy rolling his eyes.

‘You know for a Canadian you’re awful rude sometimes, honey.’

‘Don’t believe all the stereotypes, love.’ Jack sends back.

‘Oh My God! Did you just call me Love?! I’m melting, I’m dying!’

‘No?’ Jack asks suddenly worried

‘Never call me anything else ever again.’ Jack laughs at that.

‘I can do that’

Eric actually legitimately feels like he’s going to die whenever he sees the word Love appear on his arm. The fact that his soulmate calls him Love is pretty much the best thing that has ever happened. One day though, it’s scrawled in a messier way than usual.

‘Love?! You there? I need to talk to you! I messed up!’

‘Woah, slow down honey, whatever it is, it’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna figure it out. Tell me.’ Eric writes back, suddenly terrified, all sorts of horrible scenarios coming to mind.

‘So you know how we had a game last night? I was celebrating with some teammates after and… well, we weren’t all entirely sober and my friend, you know the one, he might have kissed me and I kind of kissed him back and things may have happened… I’m so sorry, I feel like I betrayed you, and… I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.’

Eric doesn’t write back until the uncomfortable twist in his stomach fades.

‘Honey, we aren’t dating. You haven’t betrayed anybody. I love you and you love me and that’s what matters, but sweetheart we aren’t a couple, we haven’t met yet. You’re at perfect liberty to kiss or date whomever you’d like. I can’t very well expect you to stay single right up until we meet.’ He chooses not to mention the fact that it might be a platonic bond, because he knows by this point that it isn’t.

‘You can’t seriously be okay with this, no one is that perfect.’

‘It’s okay, Sweetheart. It really is, it’s unreasonable for either of us to expect the other not to date. Most people do before they meet their soulmate. I’m not going to say I enjoy picturing it or really want to talk about it but if he makes you happy now, I’m never gonna say you can’t.’

‘How are you this perfect? What did I do to deserve you?’

‘You’re just you sweetheart, that’s enough.’ Eric answers. It might be hard, knowing his soulmate was with someone else. It might make his stomach churn to imagine his boy doing things Eric himself had only just started to think about with someone who wasn’t him, but Eric was the one with the word Love written on his arm. Eric was the one called perfect, and that was enough for now. It would have to be enough.

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Jack had always thought that his soulmate was separate from his anxiety, a way to combat it. Except these days it was getting harder and harder to pick up his markers in shaking hands. It was harder to ignore the insidious voice in his head telling Jack to stop bothering him, that he only put up with Jack because he had to, that no one would ever choose Jack. Sure Parse hooked up with Jack from time to time, but only because he had the the reassuring sound of his soulmate’s music in his head. Jack knows, knows somewhere deep down that his soulmate would never think he was a burden. Jack knows that if he ever wrote these things across his arms, his soulmate would deny it fiercely. Somehow he can’t bring himself to ask for that, because what if he did and his soulmate didn’t fight against it? Instead he sits in silence and waits for the words to appear on his skin first before ever writing back. His soulmate doesn’t mention it but Jack knows he's worried. Jack doesn’t reassure him and he’s not sure why. His soulmate is still Jack’s best friend, he still loves and cares about him, talking to him is still his favorite part of every day, he just wishes it wasn’t so hard. He wishes everything wasn’t so hard all the time. He wishes he could just rest, just make it all stop for a moment so that he can get his head on straight. Maybe then he could figure things out and they’d be easier.

It happens on a night when his soulmate is busy. He had warned Jack that he was going to a fancy dinner with his parents, and wouldn’t be able to answer for a while. Jack can’t breathe and he desperately wishes he could just write to his soulmate, because the answering words on his arm always steady him, but he can’t, he won’t bother him, he won’t be a nuisance. He doesn’t mean to overdose, it isn’t a suicide attempt, he’s just trying to make it all stop for a little bit. Jack thinks maybe if he just takes a few more pills he can start breathing right again, a few more and he might make everything stop for a few seconds. In the end he supposes it works: everything stops, including, for a few seconds in the hospital, his heart.

Eric feels like the whole world is shifting. He’s been hit by a bus. Something horrible has happened. He knows bone deep that his soulmate is in serious trouble. He starts crying during the dinner, having a panic attack, and runs out, fingers fumbling for markers that aren’t there. Someone, he thinks it’s his Mama follows him and presses a pen into his hand. His writing is frantic and sloppy but he doesn’t care.

‘Sweetheart are you okay?! What happened?!’ he waits but receives no answer. When his soulmate’s heart stops Eric feels it like a jolt in his chest, followed by an emptiness that only lasts a few seconds. He tells himself that this means his soulmate is okay now, or at the very least still alive. He keeps writing until both arms are covered but for a box on his left arm left open for a response. At some point his parents pick him up and carry him home but Eric pays no attention. He moves to write on his legs instead, on his chest, anywhere he can reach.

Jack wakes up to beeping monitors and his parents’ worried faces. He knows immediately that his life is now going to be separated into two parts. Before this, and after. He’s not sure whether that’s comforting or horrifying.

“We were so worried.” His mother tells him

“I failed you, I’m so sorry. We’re gonna make this right. Whatever it takes to help you, I swear.” His father promises. Jack can’t answer. He’s distracted by the desperate words scrawled over almost his whole body.

‘Honey, I love you, I’m here. I’m here for you, always. What should I do? Tell me how to help. Sweetheart please answer me! Don’t leave me, I can’t do this alone. Please, please be okay. Tell me if you’re okay. I just need to know you’re alive. Sweetheart, I need you. I love you. Please, please….’ it continues in a terrified desperate loop, pleading, begging, praying. Some of it is too messy to be legible,smeared or simply just written with too shaky of a hand. Jack’s heart shatters with every word he reads. He did this. His soulmate is out there crying, pleading, and it’s all Jack’s fault. He’ll never forgive himself.

“He ran out of room a few hours ago.” His mother tells him gently. She offers him a marker. “You should answer him.”

“And tell him what?” Jack asks hoarsely, “That I’m okay?” The very thought of it is ridiculous.

“Tell him you’re alive.” Bob says quietly. Jack shakes his head.

“I can’t, I just- I can’t right now, not now. I just- not yet.” he insists. Alicia nods and sets the marker on his bedside table. Jack throws it away when his parents aren’t looking. Better that his soulmate be alone than be tied to someone like Jack, someone who hurts him, who manages to poison the lives of everyone he touches. It’s better this way. If his soulmate knows Jack is still out here he’ll always wait for him, if Jack doesn’t answer him maybe he can move on, find someone healthy to love, someone without a soulmate or with a platonic one who will love and support him the way he deserves.

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Eric’s Mama makes him take a shower and scrub his skin clean after three days, three days with no answer. Eric immediately fills his arms again. He gets no response. He cries over the empty spot on his forearm every night. His Mama doesn’t make him go to school for a while. After a week he has to go back, he’s getting really behind. He can’t focus. After a month his parents send Eric to a therapist who specializes in the loss of one’s soulmate, whether before or after they’ve met. Eric insists that his soulmate is alive, though he’s not sure what hurts worse, the thought that he’s dead or the thought that he’s alive and simply won’t answer. The doctors they take him to tell him that what he felt, the jolt and the emptiness is what you feel when your soulmate dies. Eric tells them it faded but they just give him understanding looks full of pity. They’ve seen too many people in denial.

Eric doesn’t take good enough care of himself. He gets pneumonia, roughly two months after his soulmate died. On the worst day of it, trapped in bed with a fever he feels a familiar tingle and looks down to see a single word written on his bare arm. He had stopped writing mostly. The doctors said it was bad to try to hold on like that. Except there was a word there that he didn’t write in a painfully familiar handwriting. ‘Love?’

Eric calls for his mama, but he can’t speak very loud and it takes her a while to get there. By the time she does the word is gone. She checks his fever worriedly and takes him to the hospital again.

“Fever too high…” he hears her telling the doctors, “He’s hallucinating that…”

Eric refuses to believe that it was a hallucination for months. He writes little messages to his soulmate every day. His doctor calls it a setback. Eric hates his doctor. He never gets a response. Eventually he just believes, accepts that his soulmate really is gone, and he was imagining things that day when he was sick. He sits down and presses a marker to his arm for what he swear will be the last time, crying the entire time.

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Jack curses himself for the moment of weakness in which he wrote that singular word. It only makes everything harder. It only makes it worse when he can’t answer the little notes he gets every day. He tells himself that he will, he’s going to answer eventually. His soulmate just needs to be patient with him. Then the last message appears on his arm.

‘I’m done writing you. I can’t keep doing this to myself. I’ll always love you, but I have to move on. Goodbye.’

Jack cries for the first time since his overdose nearly six months ago. He tells himself that this is what he wanted, this is better, but he can’t stop sobbing. When the writing vanishes several days later Jack cries again, feeling like he’s lost his soulmate all over again, even if he knows it’s his fault.

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Eric is good at pretending he’s okay. He always has been. He’s good at being outwardly happy and upbeat even when he’s not. He is a proponent of the fake it till you make it strategy. Most of the time Eric is happy enough, as happy as one can be when their heart has been torn from their chest. He adjusts to the emptiness of it. He gets used to feeling slightly hollow. He learns to be happy in spite of it. He plans his life out as a solitary thing. He doesn’t mind. He’ll be fine. The one thing he holds onto though, is hockey. He knows his soulmate loved it, and everytime he steps onto the ice he feels the tiniest bit closer to him. Eric hopes that if there’s a heaven his soulmate is up there and is proud of him. He always plays to impress the boy he never met. He bakes. Whenever he makes something with maple syrup he thinks of his soulmate, and it hurts, he avoids maple flavored things. He avoids the entire country of Canada as much as possible.

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Jack misses his soulmate. He misses the familiar feeling of someone else writing on his skin. He misses talking to him about the little things, bickering over silly things, comparing favorite movies. He misses the way his soulmate would ask him what color he was going to wear every morning so that he could match, just to make one more connection between them. He misses pulling his markers out when he gets home and telling his soulmate about his day. He misses feeling not alone. Still he tells himself that this is better. This is better for his soulmate, Jack is too messed up to love. He does his best to get better anyway. He goes to Samwell, and it surprises him with how much he loves it.

Jack loves the Haus even though it’s a mess and they throw wild parties. He loves his ridiculous best friend and his lack of boundaries. Shitty sees swirls of color that aren’t there, circling people and objects, different colors for different things. When Shitty meets Jack he tells him that Jack is red. Jack doesn’t know what that means, Shitty just shrugs. When Shitty meets Lardo he gasps at the purple and gold that swirls around her head.

“Jack! Jack! It’s her!” he hisses, hitting Jack in the arm to get his attention and pointing. “She’s got the same colors as me!” Before Jack could say anything Shitty was marching over to Lardo and introducing himself. They both stare at each other like the most beautiful thing in the world. Jack watches with a smile on his face and pain in his heart. This was not something for him. This was not something he could have.

Lardo is a good friend and a good manager. Jack loves her nearly as much as he loves Shitty. He does his best not to be jealous of them. He does his best not to be bitter. Jack is getting better, he knows he is. It’s a shame, he thinks, that it’s too late. He decides to move on, he decides to be okay alone. This way he can’t hurt anyone.

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Eric wishes he could have asked his soulmate about college choices. They always used to consult each other when making decisions. It’s just one of many times that missing his soulmate sneaks up on him. It’s been three years by the time he decides to go to Samwell. He still misses him. Eric knows that he’ll never stop missing him. He just has to accept that. At least he’s playing hockey, he still has that.

When he gets to Samwell he goes to meet the coaches. There’s a standard set of questions most of which don’t bother Eric in the slightest. He easily maintains his bright personality as he answers. Then Coach Hall asks a question that makes his blood run cold.

“Is your soulmate connection anything that might hinder your performance on the ice? Or is hockey something that could harm your soulmate? Mind you no answer will prevent you from playing, we just need to know so we can work around things.”

“My soulmate is dead. I never met them.” Eric answers.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll thank you not to question what took me several years of therapy to accept and understand.” Eric snaps, he immediately covers his mouth in shock. “I’m so sorry, that was so rude. It’s just hard, you know?”

“I understand, my sincere apologies and sympathies, I can’t imagine how hard that must be.” Coach Hall answers kindly.

“It’s alright, most folks can’t. I’m alright though.” Eric assures him. “It’s been a good long while since it happened.”

“Well, if you ever need any support the team is here.” His coach promises.

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Jack knows that the conversation he just overheard is not for his ears, but he can’t help listening. He feels bad for his new teammate. He knows what it’s like to live without his soulmate. Still Bittle is small, and afraid of physicality which is bad for the team and upsets Jack. Even worse he’s a southerner who bakes. Jack wonders absently if Bittle was sent as a reminder to torture Jack. Needless to say they don’t get along very well at first.

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Jack hates him and Bitty doesn’t know why. He’s trying so hard but the captain just can’t seem to stand him. Eric knows that his fear of checking is a problem. He can’t help it, when he goes flying after a hard check he feels just like he did when his soulmate died. The fear of that makes him freeze up. The checking practices help with Eric’s phobia but make things worse in other ways. Sometimes Jack would say something that reminded Bitty achingly of his soulmate and it hurt.

When Bitty gets checked at the end of the season he goes flying. In that moment he feels like he’s been sent back to that awful night, that horrible moment when his chest went empty and it felt like the world had fallen away from him. It’s worse than hitting the ground and he can’t help thinking that the lasting effects are worse too. Hitting the ground only gives him a concussion, that moment in the air sets him back years of progress.

“Bittle, I’m so sorry.” Jack says when he comes into the trainer’s room as soon as the game ends. Bitty wants to wave him off but he can’t stop crying. Coach Hall is busy trying to get a hold of Doctor Lanno, his therapist but not having much luck.

“I’m fine.” Bitty sniffs at Jack, wiping away tears pointlessly as more stream to take their place. Shitty has joined Jack at the doorway and Jack can feel his friend radiating concern. Jack wants to comfort his teammate but he’s frozen, all he can think is that he’s failed again. He failed his soulmate after promising to always be there, and he failed his teammate after swearing to have his back.

“Bits, you’re not fine. Are you in pain? What can we do?” Shitty asked.

“Not pain. It’s just… that’s what it feels like, the shock and pain and feeling like the world’s been torn out from beneath you that you feel when you’re up in the air. That’s what it feels like.” Bitty tries to explain, tears fading a little.

“What what feels like?” Shitty asks, but Jack thinks he knows.

“When your soulmate dies. That’s what it feels like.” Bitty explains, “And just, for that moment in the air, I felt like it was happening all over again.” He is sobbing again, and Shitty moves forward to hug him tight.

“I’m so sorry, Bitty, I’m so fucking sorry. We’re never gonna let this happen again, I swear.” Shitty promises.

“It shouldn’t have happened in the first place.” Jack can’t stop himself from saying. “It’s my fault, I’m sorry Bittle.”

“You stop apologizing.” Bitty manages, “It’s part of hockey. My boy, he would be damned ashamed of me if he knew I was falling all to pieces like this.”

“He played?” Shitty asks gently.

“Yeah, it’s why I do.” Bitty answers. Jack’s stomach is churning. Bitty’s soulmate, who he thought was dead, had played hockey. Bitty is southern, and gay, and loves to bake. Jack runs.

Jack had gotten so used to thinking that he was never going to meet his soulmate that he missed the signs right in front of his face. Now he can’t stop thinking about them. He can’t stop comparing everything he remembers about his perfect southern boy and Eric Bittle. They even talk the same. Because they are the same, Jack thinks. He can’t believe he didn’t see it before, so much that he wonders if he knew and was just denying it. Now he’s lost. Bitty said that his soulmate was dead. He had said that they died, and Jack’s soulmate ought to know he’s alive. Jack had written back, just that once, but he had… except he hadn’t gotten an answer back then, and all the notes after that never acknowledged it. It seemed ridiculous to think that his soulmate wouldn’t have noticed, Jack always notices, but then again, if he had thought Jack was dead he might have ignored it. Jack hadn’t left it there for very long.

Jack doesn’t know what to do. He’s spent a long time thinking his soulmate knew he was alive and just didn’t want him. That he was better off without Jack. Now he was faced with Eric Bittle who might be his soulmate, and if he was everything Jack thought was wrong. If Bitty was his soulmate he had thought Jack was dead. If that’s the case… Maybe Jack was wrong about everything…

Bitty seems okay usually. He’s happy and chipper, but what Jack had just seen wasn’t okay. Bitty was sobbing because getting checked reminded him of losing his soulmate. Bitty had been in therapy for years to deal with losing his soulmate. Jack feels guilt twisting through his stomach. If it really is him, if he’s Bitty’s soulmate all of this is his fault. All of the suffering of the past three years is his fault. It makes him want to wrap Bitty into his arms and never let anything hurt him again. He almost goes to do so until a horrible thought occurs to him. What if it had been Bitty, and now it wasn’t? What if when he died for those few seconds Jack stopped being Bitty’s soulmate. The words still appeared on Jack’s arms, but what if they didn’t go back anymore? What if Jack had permanently broken their connection and that was why Bitty thinks he’s dead?

Jack knows that he can’t tell Bitty. Eric would hate Jack for letting him think he was dead. Or worse, Eric truly didn’t want Jack, or just wasn’t his soulmate anymore. It would destroy Jack. Or even worse Jack could be wrong and he would break Bitty’s heart even worse by suggesting it. No, there’s no good to be gained from telling Bitty. Instead Jack resolves to at the very least become his friend. Maybe they can never have what they might have once, but he could have his friend back. If it’s him, he reminds himself IF.

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Jack surprises Bitty over the summer by texting him, staying in touch, talking about whatever. It’s nice. He’s not sure if it’s guilt or pity, or whether Jack has just finally gotten over his hatred of him, but Bitty is grateful. He likes being friends with Jack. He thinks they’re friends anyway, it feels like it when the next school year starts. Bitty might be back at the beginning with his checking problems but Jack is patient and helpful. Jack gets coffee with him sometimes, or walks with him to class. It’s nice. It also hurts. Jack has been reminding him of his soulmate more and more. Sometimes Bitty almost feels like if he scrawls a quick note on his arm he’ll see it pop up on Jack’s. He tries not to do that. Jack has a soulmate waiting for him somewhere, and Bitty can’t just replace the boy he lost with a new one because they are similar. He hates himself for even thinking about it. He would never betray his soulmate, even if his boy is dead.

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There are four of them sitting in the kitchen when it happens. Bitty has just finished a new pie recipe and he’s planning on testing it out on Shitty, Lardo and Jack. Jack is studying, Lardo is drawing, coloring in a sketch with new markers that she wanted to test, and Shitty is being a nuisance. Bitty watches them affectionately as he waits for his pie to cool. Shitty picks up a spare marker and doodles a star on Lardo’s hand. Then he looks over at Jack with a sly look.

“You need to match!” He said brightly then grabbed Jack’s hand and drew a star on it quickly. Jack doesn’t have time to protest. Bitty drops the pan he had been carrying over to the table when he feels the familiar but long absent tingle on the back of his hand.

Jack shoots to his feet to get away from Shitty at the same time Bitty drops the pie. It’s too late though. Bitty tears the oven mitt off of his hand and stares down at the star that has appeared there. When he looks up at Jack his eyes are filled with tears.

Jack is frozen, he doesn’t know what he can possibly do to make this better. How does he explain? How does he apologize. Should he run? Before he could do anything Bitty runs at him. Jack almost expects a punch, he deserves it. Instead Bitty hurls himself into Jack’s arms clinging to him tightly and sobbing into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” Jack says, realizing that he’s crying too. “I’m so sorry, Love.” He breathes into Bitty’s hair. The pet name makes Bitty give a choked sob laugh.

“You’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive.” Bitty is crying into Jack’s chest. “I thought you died, I thought you were dead.”

“I did die.” Jack tells him, “That night, I didn’t want to bother you, and I just… I wasn’t trying to commit suicide I was just trying to make everything stop for a while, but I overdid it, and I died for a few seconds. They had to restart my heart. When I woke up you had run out of room to write.”

“Why didn’t you write back?!” Bitty asks pounding on Jack’s chest a little. “I begged and begged. I pleaded with you, for weeks and weeks! Months Jack! You never wrote back. I just needed to know you were alive. Why didn’t you ever write back?!”

“I thought you were better off without me, I hurt you, I felt like I failed you. I couldn’t risk doing it again, so I thought it was better if you just lost me once.” It sounds stupid now, so stupid.

“I told you! I told you I always wanted you! I told you I couldn’t do it alone!” Bitty was crying into his shoulder.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I did write back though, once. I figured that meant you knew, knew I was alive. Then you eventually said you were done, I figured you were just done writing to someone who was too scared to write back.” Jack knows his attempt at an explanation is pretty awful, but it’s true.

“That was real?!” Bitty’s voice is full of broken hope. “Two months after you died, you wrote to me, all you wrote was Love as a question. That happened?!”

“Of course it did what did you think happened?” Jack asks, confused. He doesn’t understand.

“I had pneumonia.” Bitty sniffs, “I got sick, because I was depressed and wasn’t taking care of myself. I had a really high fever. By the time Mama came up to check on me you’d washed it off. They told me I was hallucinating. I said you were alive. I believed that for months, I fought with my therapist and doctors for months. They all told me what I felt was you dying, because it was. I tried to tell them that you didn’t stay dead but they all thought I was in denial. Eventually they convinced me that they were right, that you were gone and I was hallucinating things because of the high fever and the fact that I had been praying that you were alive. When I wrote that message, telling you I was done writing you, I was telling myself to move on to stop writing to someone who wasn’t there. I was done denying that you were dead. I was trying to move on, and you just let me.” Bitty seems to be incapable of deciding whether he wants to beat against Jack’s chest angrily, or cling to him and never let go.

“I’m sorry. I thought you didn’t want me, I thought you were better off without me, Crisse, I was so stupid. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you that night. I should have been there. I should have been there for you, I promised. You should have just written me. The dinner wasn’t that important.” Bitty cries.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Love. I’m so sorry.” Jack murmurs over and over.

“Sweetheart stop apologizing.” Bitty says gently.

“I can’t help it.” Jack tells him, “I am sorry.”

“You’re such a Canadian.” Bitty whispers, giggling wetly.

“Not all Canadians apologize all the time.” Jack says softly, “Don’t believe all the stereotypes.” Bitty laughs and shakes his head lightly as he looks up at Jack.

“I’ve missed you.” He was smiling through his tears.

“I’ve missed you too, Love.” Jack whispers. He lifted a hand to gently wipe the tears from Bitty’s face. “Don’t cry.”

“They’re happy tears.” Bitty grins.

“I know, but I hate seeing you cry just as much as I thought I would.” Jack told him before kissing him gently. Bitty wraps his arms tight around Jack’s neck to deepen the kiss.

They stand there happily for a few moments that Jack is happy to let last a lifetime until there is a loud throat clearing behind him. Jack jumps slightly. He had forgotten Shitty and Lardo were still in the room. Bitty blushes a gorgeous red color that Jack wants to chase down his neck to his chest. Instead Jack turns to face his best friend.

“First of all, Jack I didn't know that was your soul connection I’m sorry I never would have done it if I had known.” Shitty tells him. “Secondly, you’re welcome. Thirdly congratulations. Finally, Jack what the actual fuck?!”

“I was really messed up.” Jack offers weakly.

“So you let him think you were dead? For three years?! This beautiful innocent, sweet little southern boy? I cannot believe-”

“Shits, I think Jack’s gonna beat himself up over it enough without you helping.” Lardo interrupts.

“Fine.” Shitty agrees tersely. “We’ll clean up the fallen baked goods, may they rest in peace, you go talk... or whatever.”

“Thanks Shitty.” Jack says hurriedly before pulling Bitty upstairs to his room. Bitty’s still crying a little so Jack just curls around him and holds him tight, just so Bitty know’s he’s there and alive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack wakes up to a cold bed and Eric Bittle sitting in the corner of his room crying. He had thought that his heart had broken too many times for it to happen again, but it’s shattering.

“Love, what’s wrong?” He asks quietly, going to Bitty’s side.

“Don’t call me that.” Bitty murmurs softly.

“Why?” Jack feels like he can’t breathe. “It’s what I’ve always called you. You told me to.”

“It’s what you always called me and then you left me.” Bitty’s voice is sad in a way that isn’t violent, it isn’t fierce like Bittle’s emotions usually are, it’s this horrible broken pitiful thing that hurts Jack’s chest. “Yesterday. I was so relieved. I was just so goddamn happy you weren’t dead. But now…”

“I’m never leaving you again, Eric.” Jack swears.

“You said that before. You promised. You said you would always be there for me, and you left, and I just… How do I know you won’t leave me again?” Bitty demands.

“I know you have no reason to trust me, I hurt you, I hurt you in the worst possible way. I am sorry, but I know that that isn’t enough. I legitimately thought I was doing what was best for you, and then I legitimately thought you didn’t want me. I was gonna write you back again, after that first time, and then I kept not doing it. I was so afraid. Then you wrote that last note and I figured you were just sick of waiting for me, that you didn’t want me anymore. I was an idiot.” Jack said. “I’m so sorry. But if you give me a chance, even if it’s just a chance to be your friend again, I’ll spend the rest of my life earning your trust back. I love you, Eric Bittle, I loved you when we were young and I never stopped. I missed you, every day these past few years. I’ve missed hearing about your days, and telling you about mine. I’ve missed the way you talk about the things you love, how you’ll fill a whole arm up talking about jam without noticing. I’ve missed getting little good mornings from you when you wake up. I’ve missed knowing that we’re wearing the same color every day, because you always asked.”

“Oh Lord, that was embarrassing.” Bitty mutters.

“No it wasn’t. It was adorable. It was like you were just trying to connect us every way that you could. I miss seeing your handwriting on my skin, knowing that I was yours and you were mine.” Jack tells him. “I miss knowing I could tell you anything, because you always knew me better than anyone. You always steadied me when I was spiraling, and it was so much easier to write to you than it was to talk to anyone else.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there Jack.” Bitty murmured, “I’m so sorry. If I had been there then maybe you wouldn’t have- and I wouldn’t have- and I’m so sorry.” Eric breaks out into fresh sobs. Jack wonders at the sheer volume of tears this poor boy has been shedding over him. He hates it.

“It’s not your fault, Bits. It was always going to happen. One way or another. You were there, you said you were busy but I knew, I should have anyway that for something important you would have answered me no matter what. It’s not your fault.” He promises.

“But then I gave up!” This seems to be the worst thing to Bitty. “I gave up on you, if I had only been stronger, if I had only waited longer, then you wouldn’t have thought I didn’t want you. I tried, Jack, I tried so hard, but I felt you die and the doctors all told me that was what it was, that it didn’t matter that it felt like it went away after a few seconds, because you didn’t answer, for two months- I’m not blaming you!” Eric cuts Jack off when he was about to apologize again. “I think we can both stop that. Just… I’m just trying to explain. I wrote until I covered every bit of skin that first night, and I waited three days. My Mama had to drag me into the bathroom and make me clean up.”

“You just started writing again.” Jack fills in. He remembers when the words were wiped clean and then slowly replaced. Eric explains, explains in excruciating detail how hard he had tried before finally giving up on Jack. It hurts to hear but Jack needs to hear it. He needs to hear it and know exactly what he put Bitty through so he never thinks about doing it again. Next time the voice in his head says Bitty would be better off without him he’s going to remember this.

“You see, I thought it was right, I thought it was good for me, to let go, to learn to live knowing I’d never have you.” Bitty shakes his head. “I should have waited.” He finishes

“No.” Jack says fiercely. “You tried for six months, six months with everyone telling you I was dead, six months with no response, then you decided to stop hurting yourself. Never blame yourself for that. You were taking care of yourself, Bits. It’s not your fault, it’s mine.”

“Someday we’re gonna be able to do this without blaming ourselves or each other.” Bitty said quietly. “I hope.”

“Me too. Someday, thirty years from now or something, I hope this is a story we tell to our neighbors who ask how we met. Something we can talk about shaking our heads at what fools we were without it hurting us anymore, so long ago that blame is pointless and forgotten.” Jack says, “But right now it is real and present and painful. Right now, you don’t trust me…”

“I want to trust you!” Bitty interrupts, “I want to, I almost do. I sit here and think about you, my boy and I think you would never hurt me. I remember when you hooked up with your friend and you so clearly thought you had ruined everything, you hated yourself for it even though you’d done nothing wrong. To you it was bad enough that you might have hurt me. I think, that boy, that boy would never hurt me on purpose. I think about the Jack Zimmermann I know, the man who loves his team so much, who is so strong and survived so much, who ran to see me after I got checked, and looked like a teammate getting hurt did physical pain to him, who buys me coffee, and chirps me about my music, and I think, that man would never hurt me. The only problem is that you did, and I never thought you would hurt me before either. I trust you not to do something to purposefully hurt me but I don’t trust you not to decide again at some point, that you know what’s best for me and leave me alone again. I can’t.” Bitty says.

“I know, I’m sorry. I understand why you can’t trust me. I’m not asking you to. I’m just asking you to give me a chance. I’m never leaving you again Bits, I promise you that, but until you can believe that could you just give me time to prove it. If that means you don’t want to be with me, I understand, we can be friends. If you can’t trust me not to leave you, can you believe that I’m not leaving before I’m done at Samwell?” Jack asks. Bitty nods and Jack hates it. He hates that Bitty trusts that Jack won’t leave hockey, won’t leave school and his responsibilities more than he trusts that Jack won’t leave him.

“Okay, okay.” Jack murmurs, trying to figure out what to say. He never talks this much. Never out loud anyway, he and Bits always used to talk this much, he supposes. “You’re right you know, I would never hurt you on purpose. The thing with Kent was seriously nothing.”

“Oh god, it was Kent Parson. I just… wow I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Does it bother you?” Jack asks hesitantly.

“No, no, it’s just… I guess it’s easy to forget that you are Jack Zimmermann the already semi-famous hockey player. But then you casually mention that your ex-boyfriend is a stanley cup winner and I remember that you’re going to be signing a multimillion dollar contract with a professional hockey team by the end of the year. That’s a lot.” Bitty answers.

“Sorry” There’s not much else Jack can say. Bitty just shakes his head.

“It’s not a bad thing Jack, just something to get used to. I have a lot to get used to… I got so used to thinking I was going to be alone forever. I spent so long thinking you were dead and now here you are.”

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Jack promises.

“Okay, okay, honey.” Bitty agrees. “For now we are together, we love each other and we’re together. We’ll figure everything else out. I guess, I’m just asking you to be patient with me.”

“Of course.” Jack agrees automatically. “Of course, Love. Oh sorry, you said not to call you that, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine, honey, I love it. I didn’t mean it.” Bitty told him. He leans forwards to kiss Jack. That makes Jack’s heart ease a little. He had been terrified that Bitty would want to just be friends, that he wouldn’t trust Jack enough to date him. Their second kiss felt like coming home, it felt like Bitty easing every fear Jack has ever had.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Settling into a relationship with Jack is easier than Bitty ever expected. The team, of course accepts them automatically although with varying levels of surprise. Bitty had been hoping to keep their relationship between just them for a little bit but keeping secrets was difficult when Shitty and Lardo both knew already and Bitty and Jack were both idiots. It was Jack that outed them but Bitty can’t bring himself to be even slightly angry. Jack had been gone for a weekend meeting with a team further away, something he had offered to cancel for Bitty, the ridiculous boy. When he gets home Bitty is in the kitchen. Bitty’s always in the kitchen.

“I have missed you so much, Love.” He says wrapping his arms tight around Eric. Bitty laughs and buries his face in Jack’s chest because it’s been two days and he’s missed Jack so much but was terrified that Jack might not have missed him. He guesses he should have known by the fact that they skyped, texted, and wrote to each other several times throughout the weekend but… It’s hard to not be scared of Jack never coming back. He’s working on it.

“I’ve missed you too honey.” Bitty breathes.

“And we have all missed clearly missed a hell of a lot.” Holster said from the doorway.

“Jack and Bitty are soulmates, there have been a few rough patches.” Shitty fills in. “They communicate via writing on their skin and it appears on the other’s skin too.”

“And the rest isn’t our business.” Lardo agrees.

“I gotta say though, it makes mad sense, Brah.” Shitty confesses. “Because like Jack has always been this real specific shade of red, and Bits shows up and he is like the exact fucking same shade of red, and I hate to make assumptions but the colors have never been wrong before so like… I was mad confused.” He looks so pleased to have his vision backed up.

“Wait so like, your thing can fucking tell other people’s soulmates too?!” Ransom exclaims, surprised. Shitty shrugs.

“I mean, all the soulmates I know match up perfect, but I don’t want to go around telling people and risk getting it wrong you know? Like you and Holster are this perfect shade of dark blue that somehow looks fantastic with both of your skin tones? Plus it extends so far out from you guys, and since you’re always together I can never tell where one side ends and the other begins.” Shitty says with a grin. “And Chowder and Cait have this beautiful yellow going on. And-” Lardo slaps a hand over his mouth.

“And you’re done now.” She tells him. Bitty’s not sure exactly what that’s about but he's willing to bet it has something to do with the way both Shitty and Lardo look at Dex and Nursey when the frogs are constantly arguing, it’s a level of frustrated patience. Bitty wonders mildly what color the two of them are surrounded by. He wishes he could see his and Jack’s swirling red sometimes.

He is doing his best not to be crazy emotional about all of this all the time. It isn’t working. He hasn’t called his parents since they found out, he hasn’t called his therapist in ages. He never wants to call him again. He wonders if the doctor would even believe him if he called to say that he had found his soulmate, that Jack wasn’t dead. Probably not. Bitty can’t help being a little overwhelmed sometimes, and people keep finding him crying in the weirdest places.

“Are you alright, Love?” He’s glad that this time it’s Jack who has found him sobbing next to an abandoned pie dough. He nods uselessly, and just leans weakly against Jack’s chest clinging to him. Jack doesn’t press. Instead he scoops Bitty up and carries him into Bitty’s room. He sets him gently on the bed and takes a second to find Señor Bun and plop him in Bitty’s lap before wrapping himself tight around him.

Bitty clings to his bunny and his boyfriend for dear life wondering how he could have ended up with this perfect boy. If he could speak he would tell Jack that these are mostly happy tears, he’s relieved more than anything, but it takes a while for his breathing to get calm enough for him to talk. His tears finally end to be replaced by sniffling after what must be nearly twenty minutes.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jack asks. It occurs to Bitty that Jack wouldn’t ask again if he says no. He would just tell Bitty that he loves him, and that he’s here for him, and then let him not talk about it.

“The anniversary is coming up.” Bitty says quietly, “Of when you died. It’s nearly four years now.”

“Oh, Bits.” Jack breathes softly.

“No, it’s fine. It has always been a really rough day for me, remembering that. The worst part was that it was this reminder, that time keeps passing and it had been longer and longer since I’d talked to you, and one day you’d be dead longer than I ever knew you. That someday I’d look back and you’d be someone I knew in my early teens and barely remembered properly. I was so scared of getting to a point when you would be in such a tiny fraction of my life. And I hated the idea of growing up without you, of being older than you ever were. Of never knowing what you would have been like as an adult.” Bitty sniffs. He’s not going to start crying again, he’s not.

“So I was in there trying to avoid thinking about the day coming up, but it didn’t work and all of a sudden I realize that I don’t have to be scared of any of that ever again. I know you, I have you, and someday the time we spent not talking, not knowing each other, will be a tiny fraction of our lives. Someday it’ll be far enough away to not remember. Now as long as you live I have you. If all goes well, I get to grow old with you.” Bitty explains. He can’t capture the warmth he feels at these thoughts with words. He cannot describe to Jack the way the hole in his chest has started to heal, and this is just one more piece fitting back in to make him feel real and solid again.

“I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry you have to be so afraid for so long. But from now on you’ll have me. We’re going to grow old together I swear. And you will never ever spend that day alone.” Jack promises. Bitty believe him.

“Does it bother you, the anniversary of your temporary death?” Bitty asks, unable to stop his curiosity.

“I never thought about it, honestly.” Jack confesses. “The date that always got me was the anniversary of when we first talked. Or your birthday, it made me miss you so much.”

“Your birthday, the day we first talked, the day I lost you. Those were always the worst days every year. My Mama never made me go to school.” Bitty recalls those dark days, sometimes he would bake until he ran out of sugar and flour, sometimes he would just curl up on his bed and cry.

“I’m never leaving you alone on any of those days.” Jack assures him. Bitty nods into Jack’s chest, so grateful to have Jack, to have his best friend back.

When the day actually does come, three days later, it’s a Saturday. Bitty attaches himself to Jack’s side and Jack doesn’t seem to mind at all. They spend the whole day curled up together in bed, talking, watching movies, documentaries, and savoring each other’s presence.

Bitty wishes he could say he gets better about checking now that he knows Jack is alive. He can’t. If anything, he gets worse. Jack recruits Shitty to help them with checking practice. Shitty checks Bitty, and Jack is there to pick Bitty up, for Bitty to cling to, desperate for confirmation that he’s alive.

“Brah, this is mad stupid.” Shitty says one morning. “I feel like a total dick doing this to you, Bitty.”

“It’s fine. I have to get used to it.” Bitty protests. “I have to be able to play. It’s just, I’m so scared of losing him again.”

“I have an idea.” Jack says suddenly, looking hopeful. “We’ll call it for today, and Shits you can sleep in tomorrow.”

The next day Bitty isn’t sure what to expect. Jack comes at him just like normal but after he hits him he grabs Bitty tight and holds on.

“We’re going to replace your bad associations, or we’re going to try.” He explains. “When you get checked I want you to remember me holding you. I want you to remember me kissing you.”

“That sounds better.” Bitty agrees.

It kind of works. Most of the time he’s afraid of being checked because he’s afraid of being triggered. The small checks don’t always trigger him, they just scare him because he’s terrified that they might make him relieve it. He’s getting better with those checks, getting better at knowing that he’s going to be fine. He’s getting better at knowing his limits. The problem is anything that sends him up, big checks, hard checks, it’s not something he can fight, it’s just a trigger for him.

“I’m sorry.” Bitty sniffs one day after a particularly rough practice.

“No.” Jack tells him firmly. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I know I just…” He shook his head.

“You know that you’re a fantastic hockey player, right Bits?” Jack asks suddenly. Bitty blushes.

“I’m not nearly as good as you.” He mutters.

“Bitty, I started playing hockey when I was four, you started in your late teens. We play on the same line. You’re the fastest player in the NCAA. If you can get past your checking phobia and you work hard the next two years you could go pro.”

“Oh, I, good lord.” Bitty stammers. He wasn’t expecting that.

“I’m not saying you have to, or that you should. I’m just saying you could. You’re a fantastic player, and I am so damn proud of you.” Jack tells him. “And I would never ever be ashamed of you for struggling with something that trigger traumatic memories.” He adds. Bitty is confused for a moment before he remembers what he had said to Jack after he got his concussion. ‘My boy would be so ashamed of me…’

“Thank you Jack.” He says with a grin. “It means a lot. I play because of you after all.”

“I know. I was proud before I ever saw you play.” Jack agrees. “I still wish I could have seen you compete back when you figure skated.”

“I probably would have been so nervous I would have flubbed up every jump.” Bitty laughs. “But I have videos if you want to see them.” He offers.

Which is why when Shitty comes into Jack’s room that afternoon he finds them watching a recording of one of Bitty’s old routines. Bitty’s not surprised by that. They had left the door closed but unlocked which to Shitty was still pretty much the same as a welcome sign. What he is surprised by is Shitty’s shocked face when he sees the laptop screen.

“Holy shit Bits!” he exclaims before grabbing the laptop and running down the stairs shouting. “Guys you have got to see this!” Bitty follows him at a more reasonably pace.

“If ya’ll are about to chirp me for this none of you are getting pie for a month” he mutters as he comes down the stairs. Instead he finds Shitty, Lardo, Ransom, Holster, and the frogs gathered around Jack’s laptop watching his routine in stunned silence.

“Holy Shit.” Ransom mutters.

“Yeah.” Dex agrees.

“Bitty that was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.” Holster concludes. “Like gravity defying levels of awesome on those jumps, and you were going so fast but like you landed like a fucking feather?”

“How is it possible to be that graceful?” Lardo asks seriously.

“What?” Bitty asks, too surprised to answer properly.

“Why have you not showed us this shit before?” Shitty demands. “Like you are fucking impressive as shit.”

“Oh- I um… I thought you guys would make fun of me.” Bitty stammers.

“What?! We aren’t assholes! We would never. It mattered to you and you were damn good at it.” Shitty says, sounding upset. Bitty looks at him mouth gaping a little.

“He grew up ice skating in Georgia, he got used to being made fun of.” Jack says quietly, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend from behind. “It shouldn’t have happened but it did. It’s not a judgment on you, Shits.”

“Thank you.” Bitty whispers.

“Of course, Love.” Jack answers, kissing him on the cheek before grabbing his laptop from Shitty and dragging Bitty back upstairs. Bitty hears the guys talking behind them.

“Those two are like mad fucking cute.” It was Holster.

“It’s crazy seeing Jack all soft and gooey.” Ransom mutters

“It’s sweet.” Chowder says excitably.

“Bitty’s good for him.” Shitty says.

“They’re good for each other.” Lardo corrects just before Bitty closes his door. Jack smiles.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Bits?” Jack asks hesitantly one day.

“What’s up honey?” Bitty hums glancing over at him from where he was sitting next to Jack studying.

“I wanted to ask, I um…” Jack hates how bad he is with words, hates how nervous he is when this should be easy. Talking to Bitty is easy it’s just-

“Here.” Bitty presses a marker into his hand. Jack nods gratefully. He takes the marker and writes quickly, before he can back out.

‘Can we get a tattoo?’ Bitty looks surprised.

“What were you thinking of?” He asks. “I mean, obviously I want you to be happy but I’m not really up for having anything huge.” They had done their research a long time ago, when Kent had once tried to talk Jack into getting a tattoo. It turned out that with connections like theirs tattoos went both ways too, anything one of them got would turn up on the other’s skin. If the one who got the tattoo originally died, it would vanish from the other’s skin.

“No, of course not.” Jack agrees automatically. “I just thought… I thought it might be reassuring. I wanted to get your initials, just right here.” He brushes his hand over his right wrist.

“It won’t be in the way of our writing space that way. And as long as I’m on this earth, you’ll know it. Even if I get kidnapped and vanish for years, or get pulled into a witness protection program and have to change my name. You’ll know I am alive and we will find a way back to each other. I thought, if you’re up for it, you could get my initials right next to it, that way we would both know.” He suggests. Bitty had set down his notebook to look at Jack as he talks and now his eyes are bright with unshed tears.

“Jack Zimmermann you are just too much.” He murmurs, moving to kiss Jack deeply.

“Is that a yes?”

“Of course. I love it.” Bitty agrees.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Jack shows up to his first practice with the Falconers his tattoo is fully healed, the letters ERB in Bitty’s handwriting, like he had claimed Jack as his. Next to them JLZ in Jack’s handwriting have appeared where Bitty got his tattoo. Jack loves it, he knows Bitty does too. It’s nice to know that even when Bitty is in Samwell and Jack is traveling all over the country with the team, arms scrubbed clean, there will always be something that they share.