Crackerbox ✔

bonus: butterflies

Lee's recently started sleeping naked, and while Jack's not exactly complaining, the sight's a bit distracting when he's trying to get both of them up and properly dressed.

"Come on, Lee," he urges. Lee flips onto his stomach and groans loud enough for probably the whole house to hear.

"I just sucked your dick for the first time yesterday, okay? Give me a break," Lee rasps, gazing up at Jack through half-lidded eyelids with a stare so filthy that it makes Jack blush from head to toe. Lee had looked at him the same way yesterday, all fluttering eyelashes and bad intentions, and Jack would be lying if he said he hadn't given in---over and over again, white spilling across his vision, hands tangled in Lee's hair.

He sighs, grabbing Lee's waist and hauling him into a sitting position. "We have school, Lee."

"Fuck school. Let's skip."

"You promised both me and your dad that you'd try to come for all your classes. At least for a while."

Lee studies him for a long while with those dark, weary eyes, before letting out a loud sigh. "Fine. But only because it's you." He pulls himself up higher, hugging his knees to himself. He's gained a little weight in the past few weeks, but his ribs still stick out of his chest, bones protruding from his limbs like headstones in the soil. Still shades too frail. And Jack knows Lee can hold his own, that he's more strong than weak---nine months older, barely three inches shorter---but he worries, sometimes. Worries that Lee will get himself into a fight he can't win.

Even though they're late and probably about to be even later, Jack gingerly sits on the edge of the bed, reaching over to take Lee's hand in his. He's not good with things like this---affection, physical touch, ruin instead of routine. But with Lee, it feels...natural, somehow. As if physicality is more than just tugging hands and messy hair and want, want, want. "How's everything, actually? I know we didn't get to do much talking last night, so---"

A smile makes its way across Lee's face, bright and serene. It makes Jack want to grin too. "It's---good. Life's good."

Lee doesn't talk about his therapy sessions, and Jack's learned not to push---especially since he's just starting. What Jack does know is that he's been calmer ever since. Happier, too, although maybe that's because his father pays more attention to him now. It's not uncommon to hear Lee babbling about going out for ramen and talking about life, or telling stories he'd heard from his father when he was younger and hears again now.

("Don't you get bored?" Jack always asks.

"I'd rather hear the same story over and over again than hear nothing at all," Lee always replies.)

He watches as Lee stretches his arms, almost cat-like in the morning glow (even though he knows Lee prefers dogs), something hazy, something twisted, something beautiful. Every ripple of his body, all hard curves and sharp bones and ninety-degree angles, nothing soft about him except his heart, shines dimly against the golden day. He rolls his shoulders back, splaying himself across Jack's rumpled sheets like he owns the place. His fingers curl in the thin fabric, leaving behind invisible smears of stardust and calcified glitter.

Dangerous little thing. Sharp, unpredictable, tricky. All the things Jack should avoid. All the things that make him love Lee even more instead.

From his place on the bed, Lee grins up at him. Jack can't deny the way that makes his heart skip a beat.

"Not as good as you, though," Lee murmurs teasingly.

٩( ᐛ )و

"Come on, come on, we're going to be late," Lee frets as Jack stuffs a handful of textbooks into his backpack, scowling all the way.