"Are you still having trouble with Wes?" Lauren asks.
Caleb just left for Shabbat, so Jackson and Lauren decided to take a walk around a nearby park, and ended up sitting on the swings. Jackson can't remember the last time he and Lauren hung out together without Caleb. The sun still sits above the horizon, but now the sky has streaks of purple and red that give the impending night a certain mysticism.
"He's always busy now," Jackson says. He takes out his phone and shows Lauren their chat. "See. Wednesday, busy. Thursday, busy again. Today he'll be busy for sure."
"Maybe today is different?" Lauren suggests hopefully.
Jackson shrugs and texts Wes if they can see each other. At this point, there's little left to lose.
"Ever since we got back from that trip he's been off," Jackson says.
"How so?"
"He acts like we're just hooking up. Like all those things we said and all those moments we had never happened," Jackson says. But he remembers that look on Wes's face before he left the hotel. A fleeting look, filled with crushing despair, and something akin to nostalgia, maybe even longing though he was right there. "When you were in love with Mav, did you ever push him away because you thought you couldn't have him?"
Lauren laughs. "No. I was so desperate with him. But Rhys definitely was like that with Mav. When Mav told Rhys he was bi, it was a shit show. Rhys had been very much in the closet, as you remember, and he just couldn't believe that not only had Mav been an option all along, but that Mav might not choose him. I think it crushed him. So instead of getting his heart broken he pushed Mav away, said the worst things to him. But Mav was persistent, and you know how the rest of that story goes."
"I never really saw it that way," Jackson muses, trying to imagine Rhys and Mav, the picture perfect best friends that everyone envied. Except, one was gay and the other bi, and they were completely in love with each other. "Do you think I should be that persistent? Do you think it's worth it?"
"Mav obviously thought so, and hey, they're still together. You never know, Wes could come around. Sometimes you just need to give him a little push, make him scared you know? Boys are idiots, Jackson. Lovable idiots, but idiots just the same. Wes might act like he thinks he'll lose you, but he doesn't believe it yet, and he definitely doesn't want to. Otherwise, he wouldn't keep texting."
His phone vibrates with an incoming text. It's Wes. Tonight.
"Well I guess I'll have a chance to scare him tonight," Jackson says with a wry smile, showing Lauren his phone.
"See? I knew today would be different. Boys, boys, boys."
"I'm with you there," Jackson murmurs. "Boys, boys, boys..."
☆★☆
Wes picks him up later that night in front of Jackson's apartment, and it takes everything in him not to feel déjà vu. Tonight will be different, he tells himself. It has to be.
"Hey," Jackson says, sliding into the passenger seat.
Wes does not look at him, instead murmuring, "Jackson." Then he smoothly pulls onto the road. His knuckles whiten on the wheel. If it hurts him so much, why agree to seeing him?
"How has work been?" Jackson asks and winces. He asked that exact same question last time.
"Busy," Wes says flatly.
"You don't say..." Jackson whispers under his breath.
They stay silent for the rest of the ride. Jackson can barely remember what their playful, flirty bickering used to sound like.
When the hotel looms into view, Jackson says not without a little cheek, "Home sweet home." This gets him a sidelong glance from Wes, and Jackson regrets nothing.
Up the stairs, down the hall, into the penthouse. All in silence, exactly like last time. Jackson wants to shove Wes against the wall just to hear him gasp.
The door opens, closes behind them. At least today they go to the bedroom before Wes pulls him close and kisses him.
If the other day had been bad, this is somehow worse. Wes does not want to kiss him, that's the first thing Jackson realizes with a terrible certainty. His mouth presses down on Jackson's lips before moving away quickly, finding clothing to take off, and when he exhausts that option, kissing him briefly, reluctantly.
Jackson can't take it anymore. He pushes Wes away, getting off the bed and finding his clothes, which he puts on as quickly as they came off. Wes doesn't say anything, and that's confirmation enough.
Without looking at him, Jackson asks, "What's going on, Wes?"
"What do you mean?" Wes isn't very good at lying. Not like Jackson can.
"You're just..." Jackson sighs in frustration. You're just busy, all the time. You never have time for me until you want to have sex. It doesn't make sense. You are being cold, distant, like the weekend didn't happen. Jackson doesn't say this. Instead he asks, "Was the trip too much?"
"I don't understand," Wes says, but his voice suggests otherwise. Jackson looks at him now, trying to catch a glimmer of something that will help him understand, but Wes is looking down, his eyes fixed on nothing.
"Ever since we came back," Jackson says slowly, "it's like something has changed." He desperately doesn't want to make this a big deal. He always found people desperately submissive in the face of unrequited love very humiliating. So why doesn't he just give up? Why doesn't he just say what Robin told him all those weeks ago? I know this means nothing to you, but it does to me, and it just hurts too much. But he can't say that. He will never admit that, because Jackson is not Robin and will never be. All he wants to know is why.
"Nothing has changed, Jackson," Wes says, almost cold. He looks up, then, and his eyes flash challengingly, which shocks Jackson to the core. "Do you not want this anymore?"
Jackson stares incredulously at Wes's stern gaze, the dare in his eyes. His face looks pale but there's almost a sense of vindication that Jackson just doesn't understand. He feels light headed. The words repeat in his head and they sound more comical the more he repeats them. Do you not want this anymore? He wants to laugh and maybe cry and definitely shove Wes against the wall.
"Wes, what are we?" Jackson asks with a strangled laugh. It sounds so stupid after he said it out loud. Because the answer is clear simply by having to ask. They were nothing. "I'm sorry," Jackson says abruptly. "I think I should go."
Wes looks at him grimly, like Jackson just confirmed everything he had been warned about. "I guess you should."
Jackson explodes. "What does that mean?!" he cries. "I'm the one trying here!"
A look of pure fury heats Wes's face like a thunder cloud descending on the sky. "You think I'm not trying?" Wes asks darkly. "You think I haven't been trying?"
"Are you?" Jackson shouts. "Then what is this? What are we doing here? Why are you acting like you clearly don't want me to be here? You don't tell me anything about yourself. You don't let me in. I want to be here for you, but you treat me like some stranger you met at a bar! Like nothing has happened between us!"
"I don't need anyone," Wes says sharply. "I know how to be on my own."
Jackson shakes his head with a sad smile. "I know, Wes. You're just like me, right? Always alone, always so terrified of love because it just means getting hurt."
Wes grimaces. "I told you from the start."
"I know."
"No romance," Wes continues haltingly. "But I also said," and here he closes his eyes, the lashes casting a fluttering shadow, "I also said that I needed time."
"Maybe if I knew why you needed time," Jackson says, his voice softening reluctantly, "it would be easier to give."
"So it's a question of trust," Wes replies, like it's all come down to this.
"Or maybe," Jackson counters, "it's a question of love."
There, he's said it. Wes's eyes darken. His lips are pressed tightly together, his cheekbones flushed and taught.
"Love is a promise that cannot be easily undone," Wes says, his voice strained.
"What if I don't ever want it to be undone?"
"Are you so sure that's a promise you could keep?" Wes challenges. Every word he says feels like a challenge.
Jackson sets his jaw. "I don't know, but I'm willing to try. If you're willing to try too."
Wes looks down. "Is it a boyfriend that you want? Someone to buy you gifts and take you to restaurants and to travel across Europe with? Is it someone who you might marry, one day, and have a life together, even a family? Someone who needs you, forever?"
"I want you, Wes," Jackson says with a disbelieving laugh. "I just want you. Is that so hard to imagine?"
"You don't want me, Jackson." Wes looks up at him, and points to himself as if to show Jackson proof. "You want some version of me that I have given you. That we have given each other."
"I don't believe that," Jackson says firmly. I can't believe that.
"I am not the type of man who is a boyfriend, Jackson. That is not who I am. I cannot be that man for you." Wes looks so genuine, but the words do not match the shine in his eyes.
Jackson shakes his head. "You can be that. You have already been that."
"So why label it? Why use a word that really means nothing? Why can we not just be what we were?" Wes asks and he sounds physically in pain, like it was Jackson breaking his heart and not the other way around.
"Because, it means something," Jackson says, exasperated. "It means something whether we like it or not. It means something to everybody else, and so it means something to me. I wish it didn't, but it does." With a sigh, he closes his eyes and says plainly, "I want you to be my boyfriend. I want to be yours, and you to be mine. And if that's too much to ask..." Jackson trails off. He opens his eyes and looks at Wes.
Wes's eyes flash, as if a battle is waging inside of him, every muscle tense like a snake coiled. Wes stands up abruptly, his face revealing everything Jackson needs to know.
"I'm sorry," Wes says quietly, and he leaves the room. Jackson watches him leave and he feels his eyes burn and he presses down on them until they stop. He will not cry over this. Not here. Distantly, he hears the front door slam shut. After waiting ten minutes, Jackson grabs the rest of his belongings and leaves, a numbness from somewhere deep within himself slowly creeps into his very muscles, like a deadly poison shutting off each organ one by one.
When he makes it to his apartment, each step feels like lead, and a part of him hopes the ground will disappear and he will fall down and down into nothingness forever. Caleb and Lauren come out from the kitchen to greet him. Their smiles drop when they see his face.
"What happened?" Caleb asks anxiously.
"It's over," Jackson says vacantly. "We're done."
They don't try to stop him as he goes to his room and quietly shuts the door. Only when he's in bed with the sheets over his head does Jackson let the burning tears soak his pillow.