Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first time Jack sees him is at the beginning of his sophomore year at Samwell, a completely normal Monday night, and at first he thinks he has gone insane.

It's late at night, he's in his room at the Haus, lying awake long after he should have fallen asleep. He's tired, and he has an early class the next morning, but he just can't seem to shut down his brain for the night. It's not anxiety, not really. Or at least, it's not bad. He just can't fall asleep, can't relax enough to stop being awake.

The window is open and, for a moment, when he hears the low rustling sound, he thinks it was the curtains in the breeze coming in from outside. He looks over, eyes unfocused in the dark at first, and sees a shadow. A dragonfly, he thinks, because it's small and has wings. But then his eyes focus, taking in the shape on his windowsill, and it's definitely not a dragonfly. It's too big. It's almost the size of his hand. And the body is . . . it moves and it seems to have . . . legs, and arms, and a head. The wings flutter and the thing moves again, and Jack doesn't even dare to breathe, eyes wide now.

If this is an insect, it's the strangest one he has ever seen. Also, for an insect, it is huge. He has no idea what he's looking at, only knows that, whatever it is, it can't be there. He's making it up. He has finally snapped, he's seeing things now, weird, human-shaped, bird-sized insects with dragonfly wings.

Close your eyes, he thinks, Close your eyes and when you open them, the world will be normal again.

But he can't. He can't look away.

And then he hears it, clear as day, coming from the thing still perched on his windowsill.

“Um, excuse me?”

Jack gasps, hands clutching his blanket tighter out of instinct, as if that would help him against . . . whatever this is.

“Don't be afraid,” the little thing says again. The voice is there. He can hear it. It has a light southern drawl and sounds kind of . . . friendly, if a little tentative. Can you hallucinate voices like that? It all seems so real.

“No,” Jack says, involuntarily, more to check if his own voice is still there, if he has any control at all over . . . whatever is happening here.

“I'm really sorry to inconvenience you,” the thing says. “I don't usually just enter stranger's houses like this, I swear my mama raised me better than that. But -”

“No,” Jack says again. “You're . . . no.”

“You see, the thing is just that my friend Benny flew into your kitchen earlier and someone closed the window. So now he's trapped. I wouldn't have bothered you, but he's very young and very scared and I can't open the window by myself, so if you'd be so kind?”

Jack shakes his head, blinks to clear his vision. “What,” he says.

The . . . thing on his windowsill smiles at him. “The kitchen window,” he repeats. “Could you open it? For my friend Benny.”

“Kitchen window,” Jack says dumbly. “Your . . . friend? Benny?”

The little thing nods. “He's a sparrow. Just learned to fly. He got lost and then your friend with the funny mustache closed the window. I can't leave Benny in there overnight.”

“Who are you?” Jack asks, though what he wants to ask is 'what are you.' But even in his confused state, that seems a little rude.

“Oh dear, where are my manners?” The little thing claps a hand to his tiny forehead. “My name is Eric. But you can call me Bitty. Everyone does.”

“Bitty,” Jack says slowly.

“Pleased to meet you.”

Jack nods. “You're . . . you're . . . small.”

“Fairies usually are.”

“Fairies.”

“Yeah. Now, about the window -?”

“Sure,” Jack says, figuring this is probably a dream. If he just complies, it'll all go away.

He swings his legs out of bed, shuffles out of his room and down the stairs. The little thing . . . no, Bitty, flies after him. His wings do look like dragonfly wings. Not as translucent, a bit more leathery, but the same shape. Unlike those of a dragonfly, though, they make no sound as he flutters them.

Jack flips the light switch in the kitchen, blinks into the sudden brightness. He can't see any sparrow.

“Benny,” Bitty calls out softly, fluttering his way to the top of a cupboard. And sure enough, there's a tiny bird sitting there, tilting its head as Bitty lands next to it. “Silly boy,” Bitty says. “Your mama's been worried sick about you. Come on, let's get you home.” He pets the bird's head and it nudges him gently with its beak in reply.

Jack shakes himself out of his frozen state and walks over to open a window like he's been asked. This makes no sense. None at all. He's asleep. He's dreaming this. He's sure of it.

“Thank you so very much for your kindness,” Bitty says, keeping one hand firmly in the sparrow's feathers to guide it across the kitchen before he lets go. The sparrow darts out of the window, but Bitty hangs in mid-air for a moment, smiling back at Jack. “We won't forget this. You're a very nice person.”

“Um,” Jack stammers. “N-no big deal. Anytime.”

“I didn't catch your name,” Bitty says.

It's not often Jack meets people who come to the Haus and don't already know who he is. Although he's not entirely sure how much Bitty qualifies as 'people.' “Jack,” he says. “Zimmermann.”

“What a nice name. It's been wonderful making your acquaintance, Jack Zimmermann,” Bitty says with a blinding smile, and then he flutters out of the window and is gone.

Jack stumbles his way back up to bed and lies there with his eyes open for quite a long time.

When he wakes up the next morning, he's convinced himself it was all just a dream.

**

The week goes by, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and it's after he's left a party early on Friday night, gone to bed at a still reasonable hour, the events of a few nights ago as good as banned from his mind, when he awakes to the smell of something delicious. Something like – pie?

He opens his eyes, and the lamp on his nightstand is still on. He must have fallen asleep reading. The book he'd started earlier is on the floor. And on his windowsill is a huge, wonderful-smelling pie.

“Hi again,” a soft voice says, and Jack yelps and tumbles out of bed, landing on the floorboards with a dull thud.

“What,” he groans, lifts his head to dart his eyes across the room.

“Oh gosh, all my fault, sorry, sorry, oh lord, I'm so sorry for startling you like this,” the same voice says, and a tiny figure lands on his nightstand, looking down at him with a worried expression on its face. “That was so inconsiderate of me. I'm sorry! Are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” Jack says, stunned, struggling to sit up on his knees. “What – what are you doing here? Again?”

“I brought you this,” Bitty says, pointing to the huge pie on the windowsill. “As a thank you for your help earlier this week.”

“Oh,” Jack swallows. “That's – very thoughtful.”

“You're Canadian, aren't you? And . . . I don't mean to stereotype, so forgive me if this incredibly rude. But I thought maybe you liked maple?”

He swallows. “I love maple.”

“Good, because that's a maple-apple pie.”

“I – Thank you. That's – wait, how do you know I'm Canadian?”

Bitty blushes bright red to the roots of his blond hair. “I haven't been spying on you!” he says quickly, his voice a little squeaky. “. . . Much,” he adds in a lower voice, looking embarrassed.

“Oh.” Jack doesn't quite know how he feels about that.

“Sorry,” Bitty says miserably. “I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. I won't do it again.”

“You're tiny,” Jack points out. They can have a talk about the concept of privacy later.

“We've been over this last time,” Bitty reminds him patiently.

“Yeah, no, I know, but . . . it's just . . . how did you make a huge pie like that? And how did you get it here?”

“Oh,” Bitty shrugs like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “Magic, of course.”

“Of course,” Jack says. He's pretty sure he's gone mad. He must have. This is not normal. This is not something that happens to normal people. Seeing small human dragonflies and having conversations with them and getting pie gifts from them is not normal. He's finally lost his mind. Well, it was bound to happen some time. His life's been much too good lately. He should have known his brain would be coming up with new ways to make him weird eventually.

“Anyway,” Bitty says, “I hope you enjoy your pie!”

“Thanks,” Jack says, then decides being prepared is better than falling out of his bed every time. “Will you – um. Will you be back?”

Bitty looks delighted, obviously understanding it as an invitation. “I can be!” he promises. “I'd like that a lot.”

Jack doesn't quite understand what his face muscles are doing, but he finds himself smiling at the delight in Bitty's eyes.

Bitty smiles back, then flies up to hover in the open window. “Good night, Jack Zimmermann,” he says gently.

“Good night, Bitty,” Jack says, and waits until his new . . . friend? is gone before he crawls back into bed.

He shares the pie with his human friends the next day, tells them he bought it. It tastes good enough for them to believe him. Besides, no one in this Haus ever questions free treats.

**

The next time Bitty visits him is on a Wednesday afternoon. Jack's alone in his room, trying (and failing) to finish an essay for one of his classes. He's been feeling distracted all day – hockey practice has been abysmal all week, and he can't figure out whose fault it is. The team usually works like a well-oiled machine, and everyone's been giving their best. He can't help but assume that he's the problem. And he's been feeling stressed lately. This one class, the very one he's worrying about now, has been giving him a headache all semester. The reading is easy enough, but the teacher seems to hate him and it's making him nervous all the time.

“You look tired,” a now familiar voice says from the direction of the open window.

He drops his notes. “Hi, Bitty.”

“Hi, Jack.”

“What are you doing here?”

Bitty flies into the room, sits down cross-legged on the pile of history books in the corner of Jack's desk. “Visiting a friend.”

“Oh.” Jack nods. “Nice of you to stop by here first.”

Bitty laughs. “You are the friend I'm visiting, you doofus.”

“Oh,” Jack says again. “Haha.”

“How're you doing?”

Jack sighs. “Good. Thank you.”

Bitty tilts his head at him. “Honey, no offense, but I can't imagine you making that face when you're doing good.”

“I'm just trying to finish this essay and it's not going well.”

“Maybe you need a break.”

“I was gonna take one once I was done with this.”

Bitty shakes his head resolutely. “You gotta clear your head. Trust me. You'll do better if you don't push yourself until you can't keep going.”

Jack wants to argue, but . . . it kind of makes sense? “Yeah, maybe.”

“Y'all are athletes, right?”

“Hockey,” Jack says. “Yeah.”

“You ever go running, Jack?”

“I try to go every day.”

“How about you go for a short run? I'll come with you. Keep you company.”

Jack thinks about it. The thought of getting some fresh air, getting a chance to stretch his legs after sitting for so long sounds more than appealing. “That's not a bad idea. But how will you keep me company when I'm running? With your short legs, I mean.”

Bitty rolls his eyes at him. “I'll fly along. Obviously.”

“Can you keep up?”

Bitty grins and crosses his arms. “Jack Zimmermann. Is that a challenge?”

“It wasn't. But it can be.”

“I have to warn you,” Bitty says. “I'm fast. I'm really fast!”

“We'll see,” Jack says, grinning back. It feels good, having a little fun like this.

“Go get changed,” Bitty tells him. “I'll wait outside. And then you can race me and we'll see who's teasing who about their short legs afterwards.”

Jack gets changed and ends up running his entire usual route – Bitty is as fast as he said he was, keeps flying next to him, chattering away at him the entire time without even sounding out of breath. Jack doesn't answer much for fear of people thinking he's talking to himself, but Bitty doesn't mind his silence. He seems happy enough to keep up the conversation all by himself.

Once he's back home and showered, Jack finishes his essay in under half an hour.

He doesn't know when he last had this much fun, running with anyone.

**

Bitty's visits get more frequent. He stops by almost every day, sometimes sitting quietly while Jack studies, sometimes accompanying him on his runs. Sometimes, they talk.

Jack tells Bitty things he hasn't even told Shitty – about his parents, how he knows they love him unconditionally, but he still feels he needs to be worthy. About how he wants to do well at Samwell to prove to himself that he can. About how important his friends are to him. He doesn't use many words. He drops hints and short sentences when the thoughts are weighing heavily on his mind, and Bitty seems to have a talent for filling in the gaps.

Bitty never pushes Jack to tell him more. He seems happy hanging out with him just the way he is.

The talking is good. But sometimes, they just have fun. Bitty is funny. He knows how to make Jack laugh. Jack has always hated his laugh – it sounds more like a strangled kind of snort-chuckle when he's not outright cackling like a chicken. But Bitty doesn't seem to mind. And Jack almost bursts with happiness every time he manages to make Bitty crack up – which, okay, isn't all that difficult. Still, it feels amazing, seeing tiny Bitty hunched over, clutching his stomach, his entire small body shaking as he wheezes with laughter.

And sometimes, Bitty brings pie. Single slices now instead of whole pies, because Jack has explained to him that he can't lie to his friends about where all the delicious treats come from forever.

Jack likes those afternoons when Bitty brings pie. They don't really fit into his athlete's diet – calories are good, but Jack is usually pretty devoted to eating healthy. So Bitty only brings them once a week now. Jack looks forward to those days more than he likes to admit to himself.

He sits down on his bed eating, Bitty telling him stories about his bird friends while stealing bites off his plate.

They've become friends, Jack realizes on an afternoon just like that, when he's cleared all the crumbs off his plate, sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him, back against the headboard. Bitty's fallen asleep after almost chattering himself hoarse, his little body curled up on top of the folded clean sweater Jack had put on his chair earlier.

Bitty. He's about the size of Jack's hand. He's also something like his best friend.

Is it weird to have a friend who could fit in your pocket?

Does it matter?

**

It's been an awful day. It's been an awful, awful day and Jack is feeling so, so tired, so very exhausted his bones are aching with it.

The entire team is not exactly in the mood for celebrating after they've been flattened in their game in the worst, most shameful way imaginable, but they're still all downstairs, emptying their last cases of beer and going over today's events.

Jack . . . can't. He knows he has to. They'll have to talk about this.

But right now, he feels like . . . like such a failure. They're his team. His responsibility. It's his fault for not preparing them better. He's let them all down. They're his friends and he's let them all down.

He slumps his way upstairs, unseen, closes and then locks his door behind himself.

He sinks down onto the edge of his bed, sits with his face hidden in his hands, just hiding. From this day, from the world, from everything. From himself.

What a complete disaster.

“Jack?”

He looks up. Bitty's sitting right there on the windowsill, looking worried.

“Hey,” Jack says, trying his best to sound cheerful.

“You're not okay,” Bitty says. It isn't a question.

Jack takes a breath, opens his mouth to protest. Nothing comes out. He exhales. “No,” he says.

“Oh, honey,” Bitty says, fluttering closer.

Jack closes his eyes, takes a few more calm, measured breaths. He'd wanted to be alone, but he finds he doesn't mind Bitty's presence. It's not like his hand-sized friend will be able to help him with this, but . . . as much as he can't bear being around people right now, Bitty is – he's – well, he's just different.

“What can I do to help?” Bitty asks.

“Nothing,” Jack says. “I – nothing. It's – I'll be fine. I just – it's been a bad day, it's just . . . I'll get over it. It was just a game, I mean, I just -” he sighs.

“Honey,” Bitty says, and Jack can feel a tiny hand in his hair, petting him. “Please let me help you.”

“I'm fine,” Jack insists without looking up. “Just a bad day. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm -”

There's a sharp intake of breath, and Jack opens his eyes. He lets out a noise somewhere between a word and a gasp, feels his jaw drop as his brain tries to process what he's seeing.

Bitty is . . . he's standing there, right in front of Jack . . . human-sized.

He's not tall, but he is normal-sized, just standing there, his wings quivering a little, his face frozen in a wide-eyed look of surprise as he stares down at himself.

“What the -” Jack closes his eyes, shakes his head, opens them again. “Bitty,” he says. “You're – you're -”

“Oh, lord,” Bitty says, his voice breathy. “Oh my. Oh gosh, I – I – well, this has certainly never happened before.”

“You – how did you . . . You didn't do that? On purpose?”

Bitty gapes at him, wide-eyed, looking confused and a little shocked. “No! I assumed you had!”

“What?” Jack frowns. “How? I'm not – I don't – I can't do magic?”

“No,” Bitty says. “I thought – I thought you'd made a wish!”

“A wish?”

“We can do that sometimes,” Bitty says. “Not a lot. And it takes an awful lot of magic. But when someone wants something badly enough we can occasionally make it happen.”

“I . . . didn't,” Jack says, thinks hard. “At least . . I don't think I did? I'm not sure.”

Bitty is quiet for a while. “Maybe – I don't know if that works,” he says. “I'll have to ask my mama later.”

“What?”

“Maybe I granted my own wish. I've just never heard of anyone doing that before.”

“Your own wish?” Jack asks.

Bitty blushes, lowers his gaze to the floor. “I was just wishing really hard that I could give you a hug. You looked like you needed one.”

“Oh,” Jack says. “Yeah, I – um. I suppose that would be okay?”

“Yeah?” Bitty asks hopefully.

“Yeah,” Jack says. He's not a hugger. Not really. He's never felt the need for too much contact off the ice. But . . . this is Bitty. There have always been different rules for Bitty.

Bitty sits down next to him on the bed, carefully. Jack stays very still, not sure what to do. Inch by inch, Bitty slides closer to him until their sides almost touch, until Jack can feel the heat from his body close to his own. And then Bitty wraps his arms around Jack, pulls him close, rests his head on Jack's shoulder.

Jack – feels himself deflate, lets out a bone-deep sigh and it's like he's a marionette with its strings cut. He slumps into Bitty's arms, lets himself be held.

Maybe, he thinks, he should be feeling embarrassed. Letting himself go like this. But he's not. He's not embarrassed. Bitty won't tell anyone, he knows. Even if Bitty were friends with all of his friends, even if Bitty were people-sized all the time, Jack is sure he would never, ever tell a living soul about Jack's weakness. Bitty just . . . holds him, he just holds him in his arms, mutters little words of encouragement and affection to him, and lets Jack be weak.

And Jack feels . . . still sad. Still discouraged. Still awful about letting his team down.

But he also feels safe. And warm. And cared for.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“Anytime, honey,” Bitty whispers, and Jack lets his cheek rest against Bitty's soft hair. “Anytime.”

Jack doesn't know when he falls asleep, but when he wakes up, Bitty's gone.

On the windowsill sits a still-warm slice of his favorite maple-apple pie.

Jack smiles.

**

They don't speak of it the next time Bitty visits, back to his smaller size, but Jack feels like something between them has shifted. He knows what Bitty's hugs feel like now. That is not something he can forget easily.

But going back to their routine is easy enough. They're right back to talking, laughing, being friends in no time. Jack is pleased to find that he was right – Bitty will never hold his vulnerability against him. He's seen how weak Jack is and he's still coming back, still being his friend.

It means a lot to Jack. More than he knows how to say, even if he had the courage to try. So, instead, he tries to be the best friend he knows how to be, making Bitty laugh, listening to the stories about his mama and his father whom he calls 'coach' because apparently he's a wingball coach – Bitty spends a long and interesting afternoon explaining the rules of this fairy sport to Jack.

His parents, apparently, are living in Georgia. When Jack asks him why he came to live all the way up here, Bitty's face darkens.

“You don't have to tell me,” Jack hurries to say.

“It's fine.” Bitty sounds determined. “I – I want to tell you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Bitty says, and takes a deep breath. And tells him everything. How he'd been a figure flier, and not a bad one at that. How the wingball players in his community had teased him mercilessly because of it. How he'd taken to calling his mama his best friend, spending time only with her and all her magic pie spells – they'd even created some new ones together.

“But me spending so much time making pies just made them hate me more,” Bitty says. “Until one day after my figure flying practice they waited for me on my way home.”

Jack gasps, feels his hands shaking at the thought of anyone hurting Bitty. “What did they do?”

“They beat me,” Bitty says, voice steady even though his eyes are dull. “They bound my wings together so I couldn't fly. They stuffed me in an abandoned rabbit hole and sealed the only entrance with mud.”

Jack feels his fingers itching, is chest tight in a way he doesn't understand. “What happened?”

“It took me all night to dig my way out.” Bitty isn't crying, though his voice is thick. “And then I had to walk all the way home since I couldn't fly. They bound the wings so high I couldn't reach them behind my own back,” he explains. “It hurt. They'd tied them real tight, made sure I couldn't slip out of the ropes without help. I couldn't fly for a week after I got free because my wings were so bruised up and sore.” He swallows hard, obviously fighting back tears at the awful memory.

Jack doesn't even know the fairy guys who did this, but he hates them. “I'm sorry,” he says.

“I never went back to figure flying,” Bitty says.

“What? But you said you loved it!”

Bitty shrugs. “I'm not proud of it. I'm not proud that I let them push me into giving up something I really loved. But I just – couldn't anymore.”

“You have no reason to be ashamed of that,” Jack tells him. “You weren't safe there!”

“I played wingball for a while instead,” Bitty says. “Tried to be safe by being one of them. If you can't beat them, join them, right? And I even liked the sport. It was a lot of fun. But I just – I couldn't stay there. I couldn't stand seeing their faces all the time and being reminded of that awful night, and what I'd lost.”

“Of course,” Jack says.

“So,” Bitty says, sighing. “I came here. Just traveled north until I was tired of traveling. I found a nice tree to share with a few sparrows. You remember Benny? The sparrow? I live with his family now. They're nice. My parents visit me sometimes and, I mean,” he smiles. “It did work out for the best, don't you think?”

Jack frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I met you,” Bitty says simply.

Jack doesn't know what to say. “Oh. Right.”

“I miss my parents,” Bitty says. “And I wish . . . There are things I wish I could forget. I don't like the nightmares. But at least I met you.”

The itching in his fingers won't go away and Jack finds himself fidgeting in his seat, and finally he understands what his body is telling him to do. “Bitty?” he asks.

“Yeah?”

“Can you turn big?”

Bitty blinks at him. “Uh, I guess? If you really want me to? We could both wish for it. Why?”

Jack feels his face burning, but Bitty's been so brave, telling him about his past. It's his turn to be brave now. “I think you need a hug,” he says. “And I'd really like to give you one.”

Bitty's overwhelmed, happy smile is more than enough to make up for the embarrassment Jack feels at his own words. Bitty flickers oddly for a moment and then he's standing there, still almost a head shorter than Jack, but big enough to hug.

Without another word, Jack puts his arms around him and pulls him close, feels Bitty wrap his own arms around Jack's back.

“Thank you,” Bitty says, before he finally starts to cry.

Jack doesn't know what to do. He's not good with emotions, he can't find any words to make Bitty stop crying, to make Bitty stop feeling so hurt by his memories. So instead he holds him tighter and lets him cry against his chest. If he could absorb all of Bitty's pain into his own body the way Bitty's tears are soaking into his shirt, leaving Bitty to feel only happiness, he'd do it. Without a second thought.

Oh, he thinks, understanding something he hadn't even considered before.

It's impossible. But he feels it anyway.

He'll just never be able to admit it.

**

They've hugged twice. Only twice. It means nothing. It can't mean anything. And yet Jack is unable to forget it.

The thing is, it did mean something to him. He doesn't go around hugging people.

And then there's his . . . realization. About his . . . feelings. Which he'll never be able to do anything about. Never. Not ever. It just can't happen. He's tall. Bitty is the size of his hand.

Except for those times when Bitty grows tall. Well. Not tall. But normal-sized.

It takes a lot of energy and a lot of magic, Bitty had explained. Too much of it to sustain that size permanently. Jack can't ask him to do that. He doesn't even think Bitty would want to. Bitty is wonderful, sweet, caring, beautiful. He doesn't want a mess like Jack. Bitty deserves the world. Jack can't give him that. Only his own battered and bruised heart. It's not worth much. It's never gonna be enough. He'd be a fool to even suggest it.

And their friendship is so good. Bitty almost always comes along on Jack's runs now, flying along beside him. Sometimes when Jack walks around campus to take photos, Bitty curls up in his jacket pocket, his adorable blond head poking out. Sometimes he sits perched on Jack's shoulder, babbling away right into Jack's ear about everything he finds interesting and thinks they should photograph.

“How come no one ever sees you?” Jack asks him one day.

Bitty lifts his shoulders. “People don't see what they don't want to see. In their eyes, I can't exist, so I don't.”

“I can see you.”

Bitty smiles warmly. “You're different, Jack. Also, I wanted you to see me.”

“If you hadn't wanted me to, I wouldn't have?” Jack asks.

Bitty tilts his head, looking thoughtful. “I don't know, Jack,” he says. “I don't know.”

**

Jack misses Bitty over winter break, but Bitty brings him an extra large piece of pie once he returns to the Haus, turns big and hugs Jack so tightly he almost cracks some ribs. Jack hugs him back just as fiercely and wonders how it is that Bitty can't hear the frantic, furious beating of his heart. Bitty smells like fresh air and pie and Jack closes his eyes and wishes with every fiber of his being for something that can never be.

**

Winter becomes spring and the leaves turn green, and not a day goes by now that Bitty doesn't visit. Some nights, he sleeps in Jack's room in a nest of clean sweaters, using Jack's scarf for a blanket.

Jack stays at the Haus for spring break – his parents are on a cruise anyway and he can't bear the thought of leaving Bitty. He knows he's being ridiculous, but college is hard and as much as he loves all of his friends and teammates, they're loud sometimes, and rough. Bitty is small and gentle. Jack is happy when they're together. Even if all they are, all they'll ever be, is friends.

But the end of sophomore year is approaching, there are exams to study for (Bitty does help him with flash cards and stuff, but he gets bored easily with school work), and Jack knows that soon he'll be on a plane to Canada for the entire summer.

He doesn't like to think about it.

“You're broody,” Bitty says, poking a tiny finger into Jack's cheek, hovering just in front of his face. “Smile! It's almost summer!”

“Don't like the heat,” Jack mumbles.

Bitty gasps like Jack has betrayed him in the worst way possible. “Jack Zimmermann! I don't believe it!”

“I'm Canadian.”

“That is no excuse! Summer is the best time of the year!”

“I'll have to go home,” Jack says. “I – won't be here. For a while.”

“Oh.” Bitty sits down on the surface of Jack's desk, his face falling. “I didn't even think about that.”

“You can come up to Canada,” Jack says, not daring to feel hopeful. “Visit me. Come stay with me.”

“I'd love to, but -” Bitty sighs. “It's an awful long flight for one little fairy. It took me weeks to get here from Georgia. And I'd need more than just my own magic for a transport spell.”

“Oh.”

“I'm sorry.”

“No, it's okay.”

“I'll miss you,” Bitty says. “A lot.”

“I -” Jack clamps his mouth shut, merely nods instead. He almost wants to ask Bitty to just hide in his jacket pocket during the flight. But then Bitty would have to stay with him for the entire duration of the break. Jack can't ask that of him.

“Okay.” Bitty hops off the desk and lands on his feet human-sized.

Jack squints at him. “I didn't wish for that, this time.”

“You did,” Bitty says. “You don't have to think it to wish for it.”

“Oh.”

Bitty doesn't say anything else, instead just hugs him quickly, then takes his hand and perches himself back against the desk, smiling down at Jack. “I'm glad you wished for it. I like seeing you eye to eye like this. I'm getting sort of used to it. I really like it.”

“I like it too,” Jack says, swallows heavily. “I – I like you. I really – I really like you.”

Bitty's eyes are glistening with tears and Jack can't tell whether he's happy or sad in this moment. “Honey,” he says. “I really like you too.”

“Bitty,” Jack says. “Eric.”

“Yeah?”

“Is there -” he doesn't know how to ask. But he's leaving in two weeks and he can't spend all summer missing Bitty and wondering about this. “Is there – any way – I mean. Can you . . . stay like this? Like. Has anyone done it before. Like. I mean. Is it possible that -”

“Jack,” Bitty says, and now his voice sounds sad.

“Forget it,” Jack says. “I just – I thought -”

“There are some fairies who've done that,” Bitty says. “There is a way. But . . .” He bites his lip, hesitates before he continues. “It's not easy. And it's not like what I'm doing now. This -” he gestures down at himself. “This is a spell. It already drains the entire area around campus of all magic for at least a few hours. And I can't stay like this for long.”

“I know, I just -”

“To turn permanently -” Bitty sighs. “That's not a spell. That's – it's irreversible, Jack. I'd lose my wings. I'd lose all magic. Forever. I'd never be able to turn back. I'd never fly again. I'd be human. For the rest of my life.”

Jack can feel the tears burning in his eyes, can feel his heart shatter into a million pieces even if he'd never had any hope in the first place. He knows he could never live with himself if he asked Bitty to do that. To give up everything just so they could be together. “No,” he says. “No, this is good. We can just – we can -”

Bitty reaches out slowly as if to touch Jack's face, then pulls back. He looks like he's in pain.

Jack wants to kiss him, more than he's ever wanted anything in his entire life. But he can't know what he can never have.

“Jack Zimmermann,” Bitty says, so softly. “You're the most amazing person I have ever met.”

“I could say the same about you,” Jack tells him.

Bitty's crying, but that's okay. Jack's pretty sure he's crying too.

They don't know what to talk about, after that, and Bitty leaves sooner than usual. Jack goes to bed early after dodging Shitty's attempts to drag him out to a party.

He's not in the mood to celebrate.

**

Bitty doesn't visit him the next day. Or the next. Or the one after that.

Jack worries. It's been months since Bitty's ever stayed away this long. They see each other every day now.

He's probably scared him away for good. But that was to be expected, wasn't it?

A week goes by. And then another week.

Exams are over. The Haus dissolves into an epic all-night party. Ransom and Holster are making out frantically two hours in and have disappeared into the attic by hour four. Shitty has forgotten how to talk normally and is only yelling now. Jack practically can hear the exclamation points in everything he says. Everyone is happy, exuberant, loud.

Jack pretends to be a good sport and hangs around for as long as he can stand, sneakily refilling his cup with water instead of beer periodically.

When midnight has come and gone he goes upstairs, closes his door behind himself.

He's leaving tomorrow. Bitty still hasn't come back.

He doesn't get any sleep that night, sitting by the open window, listening to his friends having fun downstairs (and upstairs) and waits. Waits for a flicker of wings in the dark night, a soft, familiar voice calling out his name.

Soon after the sun rises and the Haus has gone quiet, Jack packs up the last of his things, tidies up his room, calls a cab. Then he finds a piece of paper and a pen, writes: I'll be back around the middle of August for pre-season. I'll miss you. He thinks for a second, then signs it: Your friend Jack. He opens his window and pins the paper to the top of the shutters where no one but Bitty will be able to see it. He hopes it won't rain too soon and destroy the note.

When at last he can't wait any longer, he grabs his bag, throws one last, longing look out the window, and leaves for the summer.

**

Summer is long.

It's not bad. It's just really, really long.

The first few weeks are the worst. Jack feels lonely and heartbroken. He remembers when he was used to feeling lonely. But then he'd found Shitty and Ransom and Holster and Lardo. And Bitty.

With his human friends, he has a group chat on his phone. They text each other all the time. He knows everything they do, including things he doesn't even want to know. Like Shitty's selfies proving that he's wearing underwear. But most of the time, Jack is glad he has friends to keep in touch with all summer. He misses them a lot and can't wait to see them again.

But fairies don't have cell phones, and Jack has no magic. He has no way of contacting Bitty.

Well. Bitty probably doesn't want to talk to him anymore anyway.

Sometimes he dreams. He dreams Bitty finds his note and decides he still likes Jack, and finds a way to travel to Canada, maybe on the back of a really fast bird, or hitching a ride on a plane hiding away in a human's jacket pocket after all.

He dreams Bitty finds him and tells him there's a way, that he's talked to his mama and she's told him about some ancient legend and he can stay big and be with Jack and still keep all of his fairy powers, stay a part of his own world too.

He dreams that Bitty looks up at him with his big, beautiful eyes; he dreams that he leans down and kisses him. He dreams that they're happy. Together. He and Bitty, happy together.

They're wonderful dreams, but he always wakes up sad.

“I'm worried about you, sweetheart,” his mother tells him one day. “You look unhappy.”

“I'm fine, Maman,” he promises. “Just tired. Exams were hard, this year.”

She pets his hair and kisses his cheek, fills two travel mugs with coffee and takes him on a long walk that makes him feel a lot better. His father brings home an extra large order of chicken from Jack's favorite restaurant when he comes home from a meeting that night.

It does feel good, to be home. It does feel good, to be loved. And he knows his parents love him very much. He loves them too.

But it just reminds him again that he could never expect Bitty to give this up – if his own parents care about him half as much as Jack's parents care about him . . . if Bitty cares about his parents that same way . . . This is not something Jack could ever ask him to sacrifice.

**

Life goes on and days blur together, and summer takes its course.

Jack skates with his father. He takes long walks with his mother. He shows his parents some of the photos he's taken of his favorite spots around campus and they select a few to print and frame and display proudly all around their living room.

He skypes with Shitty and thinks about the next hockey season and gradually, he starts smiling more. He starts waking up in a good mood again. He starts enjoying his time at home.

There's still a weird feeling somewhere in his insides; he misses Bitty so much sometimes he can hardly breathe. But . . . life goes on.

There's hope, small and almost invisible, that Bitty will return to him once he gets back to Samwell.

But there's also acceptance. He doesn't want to call it resignation. If Bitty never comes back, if he's really screwed it all up, then at least he has his memories. He wants so much more than that, even now. But having good memories is a new thing, one he's thoroughly enjoyed since he's started feeling comfortable at Samwell. He'll be forever grateful that Bitty gave him one more thing to look back on fondly. One more memory to treasure, to keep close to his heart for the rest of his life.

And then one afternoon he sits down at his old desk to boot up his computer for his scheduled Skype call from Shitty, and he feels okay. Not happy yet, but aware of the things in his life that are good.

“Bro,” Shitty shouts when the Skype call connects. “Are you excited to go back yet?”

Jack is surprised to discover that it's suddenly less than two weeks until he'll be back on campus. Pre-season starts early. “I can't wait,” he tells his friend. And it's the truth. Whether Bitty is there or not, Samwell has become his second home. He's looking forward to going back. So, so much.

**

He's not the first person to arrive back.

Ransom and Holster are still off somewhere together, inseparable as always. Jack doesn't really understand their relationship – are they together? Ransom has a girlfriend, doesn't he? But whatever is going on between those three, it seems to work for them.

No one really knows where Johnson is, but he'd texted them last week not to worry, that he wasn't needed for this part of the narrative. Jack has stopped questioning it. This is just the way Johnson talks.

Shitty's already there, though. He's on the phone with Lardo when Jack walks in the front door – even without hearing Shitty say her name, Jack can tell. It's something about the look on his friend's face.

Jack drops his bag by the stairs and Shitty is already jumping up from the ratty old couch when he walks into the living room, flapping his free arm around excitedly. “Gotta call you back, Jack's home,” he almost shouts into the phone, then laughs, hangs up, drops his phone onto the couch carelessly. “Jackyboy,” he calls, opening his arms wide.

“Hey, Shitty.”

“Oh, you beautiful motherfucker! My favorite brah, I've missed the sight of your perfectly shaped ass all summer. Coming in, prepare yourself!”

It's all the warning Jack gets, and he laughs as Shitty pretty much jumps on him, wraps Jack up in his arms, places a wet, scratchy kiss full of mustache on his cheek.

“I've missed you too.”

Shitty gropes his butt and lets out a happy sigh. “Ah, there it is. Perfect and round as ever. The one true love of my life.”

Jack pushes him back, still grinning. “You're so weird.”

“Brah. You know you love me for it.”

Jack shrugs. “Whatever.”

“So, how was your summer? Tell me everything!”

“Shitty, you already know everything. You've called me pretty much every day.”

“Yeah, but it's not the same. Now we can cuddle while you catch me up on your life.”

“Okay, yeah, let's definitely not do that,” Jack says.

“You won't be able to keep me off you forever,” Shitty promises, punching him in the arm lightly.

Jack sighs. “Please don't sneak into my bed tonight.”

“I get cold.”

“Then wear clothes!”

Shitty looks appalled. “They chafe my sensitive alabaster skin.”

“How's Lardo?” Jack changes the topic, and it does the trick. Shitty launches into a long speech, eyes gleaming, arms flailing, and Jack sits and listens and feels like he belongs.

It's a good feeling.

**

Ransom and Holster come back the next afternoon and Johnson just turns up suddenly, as if he's always been there.

Jack takes his book downstairs to read out on the front porch while his friends are playing video games in the living room, shouting over each other, wrestling each other to the floor, starting in on the beer early just because they can.

He doesn't quite feel like partying with them, but being close like this, just hearing them and knowing they're there – it feels good.

Classes won't start for two weeks. They're all back early for hockey. Jack smiles to himself.

He knows the new frogs will be arriving tomorrow and he thinks he's looking forward to it – he's not sure, but since he's not dreading it he believes he might be . . . well, maybe not looking forward to it. Maybe not that. But it might not be awful, at least.

He's been staring down at his book without reading anything for a few minutes, just listening to the sound of his friends inside the Haus and feeling content, when Johnson suddenly appears, leaning on the frail old railing opposite him.

“Excited about tomorrow?” he asks.

Jack frowns at him. Sometimes it's like Johnson can read his thoughts. “I don't know,” he says truthfully.

“It's gonna be a good day,” Johnson says. “It's gonna be a really good day.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Jack says, shrugs.

Johnson smiles, pushes off the railing and leaves with a pat to Jack's shoulder. Jack looks after him, feeling calmer all of a sudden. He hadn't realized he was getting nervous before, but he feels his muscles relaxing now.

Maybe Johnson is right. They'll get new team members tomorrow. That means new potential. A chance for them to get even better than they were last year. That's a good thing. Isn't it?

**

He's up at sunrise the next day, like pretty much always. Bitty hasn't been back, although the note is gone from the shutter outside the window. Either Bitty has seen it and still decided not to return, or the rain has destroyed it before Bitty could read it. Either way, Jack tries not to feel too disappointed.

He's allowed himself to be lazy the last two days, to just do some light workouts in his room and spend a lot of time hanging out with his friends. But the semester starts in two weeks – nothing but hockey pre-season until then – and it's time to get back into his usual routine.

So he gets dressed in his running clothes and goes out for a run. His first one since he's been back.

He loves running. He loves the cold morning air, the quiet of the campus before most of the other students wake up. He loves the colors of summer, even if he doesn't like the heat. That's why he loves mornings. It's obviously been raining last night and there's a chill in the air, the earth smelling damp and fresh.

It's a beautiful morning and he breathes deep, loves the feeling of stretching his muscles after a good night's sleep.

And yet there's a heaviness in his heart, even after all those long weeks of summer. He remembers running this same route with Bitty fluttering around his head, remembers walking across campus with his camera, Bitty perched on his shoulder or curled up safely in his pocket. He remembers his excited chatter, the warmth he had felt in his chest every time they'd looked at each other. He remembers the times Bitty had used his magic to make himself big, how good it had felt to sit close to him.

He pushes the thoughts away and runs faster, runs two extra laps around the lake to tire himself out properly. He just needs to push himself harder, busy himself with other things. And he'll be just fine.

Back at the Haus, Ransom's already up and scrambling eggs in the kitchen – a gigantic mountain of eggs in that pan the size of a kitchen sink that Holster bought them last year.

“Morning,” Jack says, sticking his head in the kitchen.

“Morning,” Ransom says. “Go shower. I'm making breakfast.”

“For everyone?”

“Well, I'm hungry, but I'm not gonna eat all this by myself. Gotta keep our strength up for welcoming the new ones properly today.”

Jack knows this means there's gonna be a party. He can cope with that. He's had a summer to recharge and he likes to see his friends having fun.

He takes a long, hot shower, until his skin has turned lobster-red and the heat has seeped into every corner of his body. His muscles are aching a bit after his long run; he takes it as a sign that he should have worked out more over the summer.

Holster is making toast for everyone when Jack comes back down into the kitchen and coffee is already dripping into the pot on the counter. Their old coffee maker is sputtering and gurgling angrily, but it actually makes great coffee and it still works, so they can never bring themselves to replace it.

Shitty's slumped over the kitchen table with his face buried in his crossed arms, groaning about how fucking early it is, and Johnson is, once again, nowhere to be found.

Jack grabs some plates from the cupboard, scrapes some dried . . . something off of one with a fingernail, and sets them down on the table. He searches the kitchen for mugs for everyone next, but they're all dirty. He washes them quickly. Holster, who's done with the toast, comes over to do the drying.

They don't do this all the time, have breakfast together. Usually they retreat into the living room with boxes of cereal or eat leftover pizza right out of the fridge before hurrying off to class. But Jack likes it when they do this instead. He likes them all sitting down together. He'll take a shared meal over a wild party any day.

The scrambled eggs are dry, the toast is burned and there are so many grease and water stains on the table it almost looks like Lardo's modern art. The coffee is too hot when he takes his first sip and Shitty has removed his briefs and is sitting on the kitchen chair with his bare ass in protest of having been woken up 'in the fucking middle of the fucking night.'

It's the best breakfast Jack has had in months.

**

The new frogs arrive later that morning and the entire Haus gathers on the front porch to welcome them. A lot of their other team members have come over as well, joining them to greet the new ones, and Jack feels his stomach churn in anticipation.

He'd have liked to meet them at the rink first, get to know them on the ice before he invites them into his home. It was Shitty who had convinced him that 'for team building purposes' this was the better way to greet their newest additions.

Their first skate is tomorrow, so Jack knows he'll have to do his best to keep them from partying too hard. But Shitty is better at social interaction than he is, so, with some trepidation, he's decided to trust his judgment this one time. Maybe this is actually gonna be a good thing.

Jack focuses inward for just a minute as the group of new team members assembles in the small yard off their front porch, listens to Shitty take the lead and tell them all about how it's a great privilege for them to be here, something about hallowed halls, and decisions they'll regret but love at the same time.

Jack takes a breath, finally looks up, scans the small crowd. It's just five people or so, unfamiliar faces, he'll have to learn their names, he'll have to -

The world stops like it's been frozen. Shitty's voice is droning on in the background, Jack can feel his own heart hammering in his chest, someone's laughing somewhere close by.

He doesn't care about any of it.

Because right there, on their front lawn, a small figure, maybe a head shorter than himself, is pushing his way to the front from behind a tall freshman who's focused entirely on Shitty's words.

Jack hasn't seen him since the end of the last semester. He'd resigned himself to never seeing him again. He'd felt his heart break into a million pieces and spent an entire summer patching it up again. Now, it's trying to pound its way out of his ribcage, and his breath stutters in his lungs.

At the bottom of the porch steps stands Bitty, human-sized, the smile on his face happy and bright. And he's looking right at Jack.

Jack feels his eyes widen, his mouth opening and closing, lost for words, and he doesn't know what to do.

He's back. Bitty came back to him.

And he's standing right here in the middle of their new team members, where everyone can see.

**

Shitty ushers everyone inside once he's done giving his speech. It's late morning, but Jack is pretty sure they're going to start in on the beer within the hour – they've been here for a few days and while the big kegster is planned for some time next week, Jack knows Shitty too well to not expect an epic sort of party tonight as well.

Bitty walks into the Haus along with everyone else and Jack's not sure what to do, but then Bitty catches his eye, gives him a meaningful look, then glances toward the stairs. Jack understands.

While Shitty is showing the frogs their living room, Jack hurries up to the second floor, careful to not make any noise, jumping the creaking steps altogether. He slips into his room, doesn't shut his door all the way, instead leaves it slightly ajar.

He has no idea how long he'll have to wait and he's still in a bit of a haze, thoughts swirling around his brain, mostly just Bitty Bitty Bitty Bitty Bitty on endless repeat.

He's here. Bitty. His Bitty. He's big. He's with the frogs. Jack doesn't understand what any of it means.

For a few long minutes he just stays standing in the middle of his room like an idiot, trying to breathe calmly. And then the door is pushed open, carefully, and Bitty slips inside, closing it firmly behind himself. He leans back against it, and for a second, neither of them says a word.

Finally, Bitty is the first to break the silence.

“Jack.” It's more of an exhale than a proper word, soft and breathy and so full of longing, and Jack feels something deep in his soul crack open and flood his entire body with a feeling so strong it threatens to burst out of him.

With a few quick steps he's crossing the room, Bitty hurrying to meet him, and they collide so hard they stagger and almost lose their balance.

Jack isn't so much hugging Bitty as clutching him to his body, pressing himself up against him so tight there's not an inch of space between them anywhere. Bitty is clinging to him just as hard and Jack can feel hands fisting tightly in the back of his shirt.

He thinks he may be crying. He's not sure. He's shaking. But so is Bitty.

“Oh lord, I've missed you,” Bitty whispers, and Jack pulls him in even closer.

“Bitty,” he says hoarsely. “Eric. Oh god.”

“Jack,” Bitty says, and presses his face against Jack's neck.

Jack slides his hands up Bitty's back, and that's when it hits him – he wonders why he hadn't noticed it before. He pulls back, looks at him questioningly. “Your wings,” he says. “They're gone.”

Bitty nods, a little sadly, but he's smiling through the tears in his eyes. “They are,” he confirms. “For good.”

Jack gasps. “No. You mean – No. You didn't.”

“I did.”

“But – but -”

“That's why I've been away so long. It took a while, to . . . get everything in order.”

“Bitty,” Jack says. “I would have never asked you – I never – I -”

“I know, Jack,” Bitty interrupts him. “But you wanted it.” He pauses. “And so did I.”

Jack stares at him. “You . . . did?”

Bitty nods. “More than anything.”

“But you'll never be able to go back now.”

“No,” Bitty says. “Never.”

“I would have never asked you to do this for me.”

“That's part of why I did it,” Bitty tells him. “Because you weren't selfish. I knew you wanted me to, but you wanted me to be happy even more. And I wanted to be happy with you. I told you. You're the most amazing person I have ever met. That's why I fell in love with you.”

Jack breathes, doesn't even try to slow his racing heart, rests his forehead against Bitty's. He still has to stoop a little to do so. “I love you too,” he says. He's never said that to another boy before. But then, he's never felt this for anyone. Not ever, not once in his entire life.

“I couldn't bear the thought of never having this,” Bitty whispers. “I had to do it. It was the only way. The only way. Now we can both be happy.”

Jack lifts his head, looks at Bitty. “But now you'll have to live an entire life without your magic. Without your wings.”

Bitty takes his hand, pulls him over to the bed where they sit down side by side. “Jack,” he says. “It's okay. It's really okay.”

“I need you to explain it to me,” Jack says. “Please, Bitty. I feel like I made you give up everything. And I'm – me. I'm – just me. I can't – I don't understand. I need you to tell me why you did this.”

Bitty squeezes his hand, smiles at him. “You're my friend,” he says. “The best friend I've ever had. Actually, the only friend I've ever had since I was a little boy.”

“What do you mean?”

“The other fairies hated me. I told you, remember? I came up here to start my life over, but there aren't a lot of us up here, and the ones who do live here . . . I never could make them accept me. Not really.”

“But – your bird friends?”

“They're nice enough,” Bitty says. “But it's not the same as having fairy friends. Or even people friends. I just – I missed having real conversations. I missed eating with people who weren't living off worms and insects. I just – I was so lonely. All the time. I couldn't stand it.”

Jack nods his head. He understands loneliness. “I get that,” he says.

“And then I met you,” Bitty says. “I'd forgotten what it feels like to have a real friend. To have someone who really cares about me. Other than my parents. And you were so nice to me, Jack.”

“Most people don't think I'm so nice,” Jack points out.

“Well, most people are wrong.” Bitty smiles. “I could tell. I could always tell you were a good person. And I just – I knew it was a bad idea, a really, really bad idea, but I couldn't help falling in love with you. You made it impossible for me not to love you.”

Jack shifts closer to him, threads their fingers together. “Oh.”

“After our talk that day – you remember, don't you? When you asked if there was a way.”

“Yeah. I remember.”

“I went home and I cried for a long time.”

“I'm sorry.”

“No. That's not why I'm telling you this. I – I went down to the lake and called my mama. Water magic,” he explains at Jack's confused look. “Works a bit like your Skype.”

“You know about Skype?”

Bitty grins crookedly. “I've spent all summer educating myself on your human technology. Among other things.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Anyway, she gathered all of her witches' club ladies and they pooled their magic and spelled her up here so that she could be with me. Coach too. They were with me that very afternoon.”

“That's nice of them.”

“Yeah.” Bitty's smile is sad. “They stayed, for a long time. We talked for days. I told them about you. How I feel about you. How you feel about me. In the end, they were the ones really encouraging me to go through with this.”

“They did that?”

“My mama explained it to me,” Bitty says. “She said to me: 'Dicky,' – that's what she calls me, 'Dicky, you can't live your entire life just getting by when there's something better to be had. Are you really happy just living with the birds and never having anything more, even if it's right there at your fingertips?'”

“That's . . . good advice, I think.”

“Yeah, it was. We talked more, about sacrificing one thing to gain another. It helped me to make up my mind, find out what it was I truly wanted. I knew what I had to do, then. My parents helped me. The transformation – it doesn't take that long, but it takes a lot of magic. I needed them to help me out. And . . . well, they left me a little gift, when they helped to transform me.” He grins.

Jack squints his eyes at him. “What do you mean?”

“I'm a pretty good skater now,” Bitty says. “I'll never be able to use my figure flying and wingball talents for anything again. So my parents translated them into skating talent instead. It's a complicated spell that only works for transforming, but they learned it for me. I have those talents now. They're not as good as my flying was, and talent is not skill. I still have to practice a lot. But I started this summer, and I'm already pretty good. It's . . . different, but I'm still fast. And it's fun.”

“You can skate?” Jack feels a strange delight at this.

Bitty shrugs, grinning. “Yeah. And we spent the rest of the summer building me a human life. The skill transfer was a tricky spell. The rest isn't too hard, with the proper magic. I have high school records now. I have a proper human name. I'm enrolled here.”

“You . . . Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you – I mean. Do you play hockey now?”

Bitty shrugs. “I'm on the team, but it might not work out. It's a lot like wingball, and I think I'm actually pretty good, but it's a little . . . rough? I don't know.”

Jack frowns. “We can schedule some extra practice. I'd like to see what you can do, maybe we can -”

“Honey,” Bitty cuts him off, laughing. “We'll figure it out, okay?”

“Right.” Jack smiles, his brain going a mile a minute trying to handle all of this new information. “So, you're a student here now? You have a whole human life?”

“I even have a phone. And a laptop. It's pretty fascinating, what the internet can do.”

“What's your human name?” Jack asks. “Should I still call you Eric? Because that was already human . . .”

“Oh, yeah.” Bitty nods. “We have a lot of the same names. What we don't have are family names. I chose Bittle.” He laughs. “Eric Richard Bittle. So you can keep calling me Bitty. I like how it sounds when you say it.”

“This is -” Jack swallows, his head spinning. “Wow. This is . . . a lot.”

“I know,” Bitty says. “It is a lot for me too. But I don't regret it.”

“What about your parents?”

“I can still see them,” Bitty assures him. “That's the one thing I didn't have to give up. We're not the same size anymore, but yeah. We can still see each other. And my mama can spell herself big any time to hug me.”

“I can't believe you did this for me,” Jack says.

“For me too,” Bitty reminds him. “I wanted this Jack. I wanted it more than I've ever wanted anything in my life.”

“Bitty -”

“I'll still need help with a lot of things,” Bitty says. “I've picked up some things by watching humans over the years, but . . . I might seem weird to other people sometimes. There are things I still don't know and don't understand. I seriously need to wash my clothes, but I can't spell them clean anymore. How do you do laundry? Also, we've exchanged some fairy gold and made it into money and set up a . . . bank . . . thingy.”

“A bank account?”

“Yeah, that! I don't have a lot of money, but I think you can get more if you work somewhere? The problem I'm having right now is that I have this plastic card and some papers and stuff and I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with all that? I just want some of my money so I can exchange it for food things? Also, I can't figure out how vending machines work at all. I'm gonna need a lot of help. Is that okay?”

“Anything you need,” Jack says. “Anything at all.”

“For now,” Bitty says, and his face goes a little red. “I think I'd like it if you kissed me. I've waited a long time for this. A really long time.”

Jack's heart leaps and he can't hold back the smile. “Okay.”

Bitty sits perfectly still as Jack places a hand on the back of his head, leans in. Their lips touch, softly, gently, and Jack sucks in a breath through his nose. He can feel Bitty's hands against his chest.

Jack pulls back, but Bitty chases after him, kisses him again, deeper than before. Jack feels the little whimper Bitty lets out all the way down to his toes.

Nothing has ever been more perfect in his entire life.

**

And suddenly, Jack has a boyfriend.

A boyfriend who's a head shorter than him but almost more athletic than the rest of his team combined. A boyfriend who's really picking up the hockey thing fast, thanks to his previous athletic experience, even though he needs some checking practice. A boyfriend who occasionally gets weirdly excited at normal, everyday things like soap dispensers and pizza delivery and phones. Especially phones. He's pretty much glued to his, learns the ins and outs of social media within weeks and gets all excited and happy when he starts gaining Twitter followers and figures out how to set up a YouTube channel.

A boyfriend who's all his, who tells him he loves him and means it, who takes his hand and kisses him and is happy to spend time with him.

The way Bitty learns things about being human seems crazy to Jack, but it seems to work for him. He still has trouble figuring out how to set an alarm and regularly oversleeps in the morning. But he's already downloaded everything Beyoncé ever did onto his laptop.

“You know who Beyoncé is?” Jack asks, flabbergasted.

Bitty looks appalled at the suggestion that he wouldn't. “Jack, honey,” he says. “I used to be pocket-sized, not deaf.”

Bitty becomes an expert baker within weeks, but has to be reminded to do his homework all the time.

“We didn't have as much homework in my school,” he explains.

“You had schools? Fairy schools?” Jack loves it when Bitty talks about his former life, but doesn't often ask about it for fear of making him sad.

Bitty shrugs. “Sure we did. But we mostly learned practical stuff. Math and all that, yeah. But also different bird languages and spells and how to build tree homes without damaging the trees.”

Among the few possessions Bitty brought from his old home and spelled big are his stuffed animal, Señor Bunny, and lots of clothes. He's already bought himself a pair of skates, but that's all he has – Jack accompanies him out one afternoon and helps him buy everything else he needs. Bitty lets him pay without questioning it.

A few weeks later, once he's figures out how money actually works, he tries to talk Jack into letting him pay it all back, but Jack remains stubborn.

“You changed your size for me permanently and gave up your magic. I'm allowed to buy you a few things in return.”

“I told you! I did this for me as much as I did it for you! Stop trying to put a price on it already!”

“Fine. In that case, I like to buy you things because I love you.”

Bitty crosses his arms and sighs exasperatedly, but he lets Jack kiss him. “I love you too,” he says. “You mulishly stubborn silly boy.”

They decide to keep it a secret at first. It would lead to all kinds of questions they simply cannot answer, if Jack, who never says two words to people he doesn't know, would suddenly date a freshman he's officially met a week ago. And then there's the whole issue of Jack coming out officially. He's not sure that's such a good idea right now.

So they meet where no one can see. They go for coffee after practice. They hang out in Bitty's dorm room. Sometimes, when Bitty is over at the Haus and no one else is there, they lock themselves in Jack's room and make out on his bed until their lips are sore.

It's about two months into the semester when they just can't do it anymore – secret looks across the room, never holding hands when they're walking across campus together.

“Let's tell them,” Jack says, lying on his bed with Bitty half on top of him, their legs tangled, his arm around Bitty's lower back.

“Okay,” Bitty says.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” Bitty frowns. “Wait, do they know you're . . .”

“Bi?” Jack shrugs. “Yeah. The ones who live in the Haus, at least. They won't tell anyone. I trust them.”

“Okay,” Bitty repeats.

That evening when everyone is home, Jack prepares to go out, dressing in one of his better shirts, combing his hair neatly.

“Hot date?” Shitty asks, when Jack comes down the stairs all cleaned up and nice-looking.

“Yes,” Jack says. “Actually. If you must know.”

“We must,” Holster says.

“Who is it?” Ransom inquires.

“Anyone we know?” Shitty asks.

“Yeah, you know him,” Jack says.

“Him?” Shitty's eyes widen. “Brah! Good for you!”

The door to the Haus opens and Bitty steps inside, dressed as nicely as Jack is, smiling widely. “Hi, Jack,” he says. “Ready to go?”

Jack walks over to him, takes his hand. “Ready when you are.”

**

It's not perfect.

Jack knows he pushes Bitty hard, sometimes, during practice. But he's passionate about hockey and he can't always turn off his perfectionist side. So, sometimes, he snaps when he doesn't mean to. He's not as nice as he wants to be. And Bitty's so new to all of this. He's done his research and he is awesomely talented. He trains hard. Harder than most of them. And Jack knows he's hurt sometimes by Jack's harsh words. But he always forgives him and Jack does his best to make it up to him every time. And he works on being nicer.

Bitty misses his magic sometimes. He's happy and excited a lot of the time, but there are days when he's just sad, and Jack catches him looking up at the birds in flight overhead, his eyes clouding over with a pain Jack can't even begin to understand.

He tells Bitty, one day. It's been weighing on his chest heavily and he needs to get the words out, needs to know.

“I'm afraid I cost you too much. More than I can ever repay.”

“Honey,” Bitty says, and kisses him on the lips. “This is not a debt you have to pay off. I did this of my own free will. And I'd have given more, for you. Don't you know what you mean to me?”

“I just want you to be happy,” Jack says.

“Jack.” Bitty squeezes his hand. “I am happy. I'll never, ever regret you. I had nothing left. And you gave me the entire world.”

Jack pulls him close and kisses him and loves him so much it aches deep in his chest. He doesn't have the words to tell Bitty he means the same to him. He doesn't have the words to tell Bitty he'd been sure no one would ever love him, that he was too weird for anyone to want him. He doesn't have the words to tell Bitty how lucky he feels, how lucky that the one person who means the world to him turned out to be the one to love him back.

Bitty continues to improve his skating, his knowledge of music and technology, his baking. He'd always loved making pies, and he's having a lot of fun, making them 'the human way.' Jack has to remind him several times to not call it that in front of the rest of the team.

The rest of the team love Bitty, and they all seem very excited about Jack and Bitty dating. Jack is glad for their support.

Once Bitty starts making them pies all the time, a few of the guys start proposing marriage to him a few times a week. It makes Jack laugh. It's so good, seeing Bitty having friends, smiling so much, being surrounded by people who love him and accept him as just the person he is. Jack knows how lonely he's been. Bitty deserves all of this.

**

They're sitting out on the roof of the Haus, in their reading room, some of the guys playing video games downstairs, some stuck in late classes.

Bitty puts his head on Jack's shoulder and Jack puts an arm around his back, hugs him close to his side.

A sparrow lands close to them, pecks at Bitty's foot. Bitty laughs, and the bird sits quietly next to them for a few minutes, eats a few seeds out of Bitty's hand. Bitty carries bird seeds in his pockets all the time. Birds still like him, even though he's not a fairy any longer.

“Can you still understand them?”

“No,” Bitty says. “But I think they understand me.”

“Do you miss it? Talking to them?”

Bitty seems to think about it. “Sometimes,” he admits truthfully. “Yeah, I do. But I have those idiots downstairs now. A whole hockey team to talk to.” He draws back, smiles at Jack. “And I have you.”

“Yeah,” Jack says. “You have me.”

He knows they'll retreat back inside soon; they'll order pizza for the whole Haus and hang out with their friends for a bit. And then they'll go back upstairs – Bitty doesn't go back to his dorm very often now. He usually sleeps in Jack's bed.

They'll kiss a bit. They'll cuddle. Maybe do more.

And then, they'll fall asleep together. And tomorrow morning, they'll wake up next to each other.

Jack holds him, his human-sized, wonderful, amazing boyfriend, and smiles.

He's happy.