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"I guarantee you, you don't want me. You don't."
The words hit Jack like a truck.
When he told himself he was going to finally confess to David today, when he ran through all of the options and avenues for the conversation while on the thirty minute subway ride, he never once considered this option. The option where David thought he wouldn't be good enough, the one where he would say– that.
Jack's mouth opens and closes for a few moments, the words lodged in his throat, before he chokes out, "What?"
To his credit, David laughs. It's not a happy sound, though- no, it's defeated, and trails off into a sigh at the tail-end of it. As he drops his shoulders, David's gaze flick's to Jack's across the table, before dropping back down to his clasped hands next to his cup of coffee. "You don't want me," David says easily, like it's a fact. Like it doesn't rip Jack in two.
"No, I heard you," Jack says, leaning a little further in, but he makes sure to keep his voice down- he doesn't need the rest of the cafe hearing this. Why he decided to do this in public, he doesn't know anymore, but he felt like he was going to burst out of his skin if he didn't blurt it out. "I just- I don't... get it. What do you mean, I don't want you? I think I know what I want, Dave."
David sighs, shaking his head and giving Jack a desperate, pleading look. "I'm telling you, you don't want-"
"And I'm tellin' you, you don't know what I want or not," Jack cuts in. "And I want you. I want you, and everything you're willin' to give, do you understand?" He stares at David, who is silent, and refuses to meet Jack's eyes.
Jack takes a deep breath and reaches out, gently taking David's hand. David doesn't pull away, but he doesn't grab back. "Look, I... I don't care if you don't want this. That's fine, and we can forget I ever opened my big mouth, okay? But if you- if you're refusin' to give this a shot 'cause you don't think you're good enough... Dave, you can't possibly believe that."
David gulps, his gaze shifting frantically, and he looks like a deer in the headlights. The image makes Jack regret ever saying anything, but when Jack starts to pull his hand away, David stops him with a squeeze. "Do you-" He stops, clearing his throat and staring straight at the wooden table between them. "Do you know how hard it is for... for me to get out of bed every day?"
Jack stays silent. David takes a breath, and closes his eyes.
"It's- It's not that I don't want you, Jackie, 'cause I want you more than you'll ever know," He whispers. "But you... You deserve more than me, okay? You deserve someone who doesn't feel drained every day. Someone who can be... I don't know, happy, without having to try to be. I'm a mess, Jack. You don't want that."
"I don't want that for you," Jack murmurs, squeezing David's hand back. "David, we... we can wait 'til you feel better, or healed, or whatever the fuck it is, but regardless, I don't... I don't need you to change for me to love you, okay? You deserve that, just as you are."
David finally looks up, and gulps hard. "...Love?"
"Yeah. Love," Jack responds.
David's shoulders sink a little, and he nods slowly, his grip on Jack's hand tightening. "I'm broken," David mumbles. "And I-- I know that sounds dramatic, but I've never... I've never been good at this, and you know that. You've been there for all of my breakups."
"Yeah, I have," Jack nods, "and I know that you didn't deserve a damn one of 'em. David, you're a catch, and if people don't get that... That's their problem. Not yours." With a soft sigh, Jack looks down, then shifts in his seat and looks back up at David. "You don't have to make a decision now. We can talk this out when you want, 'kay? The ball's in your court, Dave, but... You ain't broken. I swear."
"Jack..."
"There's a difference between broken and bruised," Jack murmurs. "Okay? You... You might be goin' through a rough patch. You might be hurtin', and that fuckin' sucks, but that don't mean you're beyond repair. You said the same damn thing about me."
David gulps hard, then uses his free hand to rub his eyes. "I... I don't know if I'm ready for-... I'm sorry..."
Jack shakes his head. "You got nothin' to apologize for, okay? If you need to wait, we wait."
"I want to," David explains. "I-... I really, really want to try with you, I just..."
"Davey, it's okay," Jack whispers. "I promise."
"Promise," David whispers back.
---
The next two weeks are... tense, but not bad.
They part ways after lunch that day, and David doesn't answer Jack's texts for about twenty-four hours, but then everything is fine, and everything is good. It's just- it's heavy now, the tension between them. Not a bad thing. Not a particularly good thing. Kind of a weird thing.
But three days after the confession, David falls asleep with his head on Jack's lap when they're supposed to be studying for midterms, and five days after that, David comes up behind Jack and holds him flush to his chest with his arms around his waist, and two weeks after that, David leans his head on Jack's shoulder while they're riding the subway together. It's a good thing. It's a heavy thing. It makes Jack's head swim because he's so far gone over this boy.
When they get off of the subway and make it back to the street, Jack starts to take a step to begin their walk back to David's place. They'd gone uptown for the day- Kath and Sarah wanted to hang out, and Jack and David were the only two available- and Jack could tell that David was exhausted, which is why he figured they'd immediately start walking again. But David looks stuck, looks out of it for a moment, with a blank expression on his face as he stares at something to the left of them, across the street.
Jack follows his gaze and sees the coffee shop. The one where Jack confessed.
He gulps, and takes a small step closer to David. "Hey," he says softly, slowly dipping into David's line of sight. "You okay?"
"Did you mean it? Really?"
"Mean what?"
"That you loved me," David says, refusing to meet Jack's eyes. He stays staring at the front door of that cafe, his body language... defeated. Sunken shoulders and a soft frown. "You said you loved me."
Jack sucks in a sharp breath, then fully steps in front of David. "C'mere," Jack whispers. He then guides him a few feet to the right, just so they're not blocking the entrance to the subway, and when they're both settled, Jack reaches up and gently cups David's cheek. "I do," He murmurs. "I love you, Dave. Just as you are."
"I don't see why," David whispers back. He's finally at Jack now, and Jack can see all of the worries, the doubts, swimming in David's gaze. "I don't. I don't get it."
"David..."
David shakes his head, a pleading look in his eyes, and Jack closes his mouth to let him continue. "I'm not gonna get it anytime soon," He says, "but I... I think... I don't need to get it, if I- if you love me regardless... and if I love you the same."
There's an air of finality, and Jack doesn't know what to say.
He doesn't understand how David can't see how lovely he is. But then again, Jack has his vices, too- and he knows that he doesn't think of himself the way he should. He can't blame David for doing the same.
So, he doesn't blame. He doesn't argue. David has stated the facts: that Jack loves him enough to make up for something, and that he loves Jack the same. He's laid everything on the table.
Jack says, "Okay," and Jack draws David in.
The kiss is gentle. Hesitant. It's nothing mindblowing, it's not perfect- but it's there, and there is enough, and they can work on it together. Jack is cupping David's cheeks with both hands, and David's arms wind around Jack's waist.
When Jack pulls away, he looks into those cloudy blue eyes, and thumbs David's cheekbone. "I can love you enough for the both of us," He murmurs, "but you gotta like yourself enough to let me. Can you do that? Can we... Can we work on this? Together?"
"Yes," David says with no hesitation. "Together."
It doesn't fix anything. It doesn't make anything perfect. But it's there, and there is real, and real means they can fight for it.
Jack Kelly would wait an eternity and a half for David Jacobs if he had to. He's glad that he doesn't.