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When Jack imagined freedom, he didn’t think it would come with such blazing temperatures. He pictured heat – the kind that comes with hands tangled in sun warmed sheets, the kind that stirred a fire low in his belly – but what he didn’t picture was humidity that made bleached white hair stick to his forehead as he jogged across the street. The Pacific Northwest wasn’t supposed to be so hot, but it seems neither he nor Aster had gotten the memo when they’d moved.
They’d just wanted to get as far away from Pennsylvania as possible.
Jack shakes his head, trying to free himself of the memories. He doesn’t want today ruined by the past.
Of course, he got everything that he had wanted from the moment he’d helped them unpack in the large colonial style home beside his own. Jack had felt easy kinship with Aster from day one, and had pursued him relentlessly – chasing after the forbidden, until he finally sunk his teeth in hard enough that Aster had paid attention to him.
The private lessons, the nights spent in each other’s company, the stolen glances at town fundraisers over potato salad and weak sweet tea – all of it. Jack relished it all, and he felt a sickening guilt over the fact that he knows Aster doesn’t feel the same simplistic bliss.
At least, he doesn’t towards his memories. Jack believes he does towards their shared present.
Jack chews on his lower lip as he approaches the familiar bike, Aster straddling it, the second helmet on the seat behind him. They don’t have enough money for a car yet, though it still makes Jack shiver. He’s wearing his darkest pair of shorts that he can stand in this weather, and hopes that’s enough. He says nothing as he slips his helmet on, before straddling the bike, wrapping his arms tightly around Aster’s middle as they peel away from the curb, heading out of downtown and back towards their apartment.
The vibrations immediately do things to Jack, making it hard to focus as Aster expertly weaves through traffic. Jack squirms, careful not to displace their balanced weight on the bike, infinitely jealous that Aster doesn’t suffer the same way he does.
When Aster finally parks the bike in their shared garage for their apartment building, Jack takes advantage of the tinted visor on his helmet – newly purchased for him, neither of them wanting the memories of the previous one still attached to their future – and stares at Aster’s hands. They’re still covered with chipped paint, stubbornly clinging on despite the heat. The pale ring of skin on his left ring finger almost blends in with the rest of his skin now.
Almost.
“I don’t have any homework,” Jack says as he takes his helmet off, still straddling the bike. He didn’t make a mess this time, but he is still wet – intermingling with his sweat, in an uncomfortable slick that makes him squirm. “We could go out tonight, once it gets cooler.”
Aster glances over at him as he unzips his leather jacket, shrugging out of it, revealing the dark grey tank top he wears, showcasing his tattoos.
( jack hadn’t known he’d had tattoos until well into their relationship. when asked why he kept such beautiful designs hidden, aster had screwed his mouth to the side and softly whispered his wife’s name. )
“You may not have homework mate, but I sure do. And it’s a Friday in the summer, everyone’s going to be out.” He grabs his bag off the back of the bike as well as Jack’s, and the younger man reaches up, catching Aster’s jaw in his hand.
Aster pauses, green eyes widening, and Jack gives him a pleading look. They’re alone in the parking garage, nearly 3,000 miles away from anyone who’d have a problem with this. At times, it feels like only Jack remembers that.
“Jack—”
He only gets the one word out before Jack reaches up on his tiptoes, pulling Aster down into a kiss. Aster may have his reluctances but he does kiss him sweetly, dropping his own bag of art supplies to the pavement to cup Jack’s cheek instead. Jack feels his heart race, aching with love for the other man in front of him.
When they separate, Aster whispers softly, “You alright mate?” in his ear.
“I will be, once we get inside,” he answers, shivering at the sensation of such direct attention.
Aster hums, picking up the bag and slinging an arm around Jack’s shoulders as he herds him towards the stairs. Jack feels pleasantly crushed against the taller man, and follows him into the building.
+
The pothos plants are growing wild throughout their apartment. Aster’s green thumb can finally thrive, gone from the close clipped lawns of eastern America and unleashed in their cozy apartment. They climb the walls and ceilings, held in place with little plastic hooks, keeping them aloft. Jack finds himself staring at them close up, his head on the back of the couch, as Aster goes down on him. Each panting breath shakes the small leaf above his face, feeling Aster’s tongue do things to him that only he can do. Jack brings a hand down to bury in soft grey-blue hair, rocking his hips down with quiet mewls and gasps. The leaf trembles in the heat of his breath, and when Aster finally takes his cock into his mouth fully, Jack cums with a soft cry.
+
The next morning, Aster disappears rather early, leaving Jack to his own devices in the apartment. He’s not planning on leaving any time soon, wanting to luxuriate in the spaciousness of their shared bed. He closes his eyes and loses a few hours like this, but he can’t hide in the bed any longer when his body finally kicks him awake with hunger.
Jack pads over from the bedroom into the kitchen, searching out something iced. There’s the coffee maker that only Aster knows how to use – some relic from his married life that Jack knows better than to press around. Ignoring that, he dives into the fridge and makes do with some homemade popsicles first thing in the morning.
He licks reddened lips around a cherry popsicle as he moves through the kitchen, back out into the central main room. The mail sits piled up on the coffee table, something Jack is long since used to. What he’s not used to, however, is the very official and very scary looking document that reads McIntyre Family Law on the half-torn envelope.
Aster must’ve been angry when he opened it.
Jack creeps closer, licking at the cherry water running down his fingers, inspecting the pulled out document. It’s a lot of legalese that he does not understand, but what he does see is the large total at the bottom of the second page in red ink.
He had thought Aster didn’t owe anything, if he wasn’t trying to keep anything that wasn’t purchased in his own name – like the motorcycle. But this document shows otherwise – something about the house they had been living in, and the property values.
Jack doesn’t know what it means, but he can assume Aster does.
He has a few ideas of where Aster could’ve gone this early on a Saturday, but when he checks the clock he sees it’s nearly noon. Even if Aster had gone to the gym or the studio, he should have been back by now.
Maybe he went to both.
Distracted with thoughts of Aster in the gym, Jack doesn’t notice the little red droplets pouring down onto the paperwork, staining it, the red dyes sinking into the paper like blood in water. He gets up, and brings the popsicle into the kitchen, intent on finishing it when suddenly the door opens.
Jack jumps back into the front room, looking enthusiastically for the return of Aster. The Australian is there, but he’s not paying attention; still sweaty from the gym, with headphones still in, he walks determinedly towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Jack, bereft of a proper greeting and stunned at this turn of events, returns to the kitchen, finishing up his melting popsicle.
Eventually, Jack’s resumed sitting on the couch, laying across it, watching a boring movie on the TV.
“Jack?” Aster calls, stepping into the front room. He’s showered, and is wearing just a towel around his waist, exposing all the tattoos on his biceps and back.
Jack doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of it. “Yeah?”
Aster gives him a tired smile, coming over and motioning for Jack to sit up a little so there’s room on the couch for them both. “Didja even leave the flat today, mate?” he asks, and Jack shakes his head, leaning up against him.
“Didn’t have time before you came back,” he replies, pressing against warm brown skin. “Where’d you go?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Aster says, shaking his head. In doing so he moves just enough that he can see the red droplets atop the notice, the new complication from across the country. “…Were you going through the mail this morning?”
“No,” Jack lies, immediately. He wasn’t going through it, he was just…looking at it. In its natural state.
“Then what’s this?” Aster counters, leaning forward and pointing at the droplets of melted popsicle across the notice.
Jack wilts. “Okay so maybe I saw that part, but I didn’t go through it, I just…saw it. What even is it, anyway?”
Aster clenches his jaw, working silently as he processes Jack’s mistake.
This whole situation is Jack’s mistake. It was an accident, Jack swears. He’d swear it upon the Bible if they had any around, but both he and Aster are allergic to that form of worship.
He didn’t mean to fall in love, he didn’t mean for Aster to be forced to choose one over the other. He didn’t mean for any of this to happen.
He just wanted some fun.
Jack feels tears pricking at his eyes, tears he refuses to let fall. He just wanted some fun and he got the love of his life as a result. But he knows part of Aster will always love her, will always have a space in his heart for her. No matter how much he hurt her by being with Jack, and no matter how much Jack had “won” Aster…a year later they’re still getting notices in the mail.
Aster explains – some retainer fee for his lawyer in Pennsylvania, a joke compared to the money her parents were throwing at the situation. Had Aster not gotten out of Burgess when he had, he wouldn’t have had enough money for the move. Not with how this guy’s clearing him out.
Jack knows he’s not helping. He’s costing them money, enrolled in college as he is, and while he’s trying for Aster’s sake he knows it’s not really for him.
“Just another year,” Aster says, a mantra that he repeats over and over again, whenever they’re a few dollars short at the grocery store. “And then it’ll all be fine.”
“Then let me help. Let me drop out,” he says, and he watches the clouds cover Aster’s face as he turns to look at him.
“I’ll get a job,” he hurries to explain. “Just…let me stop going. I’m costing us more money than I’m getting out of it.”
“Jack, I promised myself I wouldn’t let you not live up to your potential.” Aster’s voice sounds like he’s fighting with himself, and Jack puts a hand on his wrist.
“My potential’s not in a classroom, Aster. You know that. I’m…I’m street-smart. Not book-smart. Let me find something else to do, let me contribute. Please?”
Aster gives him a look, darkened emerald eyes watching for something in Jack’s expression. He’s not sure what he’s searching for, but he seems to find it, and Jack’s mind is already racing with possibilities.
“…Okay. Fine.”
It’s not quite the overwhelming agreement that Jack was hoping for, but he smiles. He’ll take what he can get.
One slim hand reaches for Aster’s length beneath the towel, and he doesn’t shake him off. Slipping free from the couch, he settles down on the hardwood floor, and begins to part the damp cotton, searching out something beneath.
Like with all things, Jackson Frost gets what he wants.