Francis kept his chin down, but Jack’s interest gave him encouragement to keep going. “Well, two people actually. They were brothers. One…one drank himself into oblivion every night, and the other found other males attractive. He never told tell anyone, not even his brother. Except me of course. That’s how I know.” It was weird talking about himself in the third person.
Jack swallowed softly, and shrugged a little bit. "And…?" he trailed off. "What happened?" he asked softly, running a hand through his hair. His blonde hair stuck up still, and his eyes looked almost dead. Lifeless. Like there was nothing left inside of him, he was just an empty shell.
He cleared his throat, and his lip trembled. “Um, the older brother died,” he struggled, lifting a hand to his mouth. He rubbed his cheek. “The other brother is alive, but we’re not as close anymore.” It was true. He felt like he hadn’t been true to himself for a long time, not since his brother’s death.
"Oh." Jack replied faintly. He shrugged a little bit, eyebrows drawing together. "And…your point with the story was…?" he studied Francis for a long moment, swallowing softly.
Francis softly shook his head, reaching up his hand to lightly hold a strand of his brown hair. He didn’t even know the point, himself. Maybe he just needed to talk about it from another point of view. It was a selfish reason. He was supposed to be helping Jack. “My point is…neither of them are— were disgusting perverts. Between the two of them they drank copiously, and fancied other males, but they weren’t disgusting. So why would you be?”
Jack snorted. "Because I act on it. Because I kiss other boys and I take them into bed with me. Because…" he raked a hand through his hair again, his blue eyes dead and lifeless and so, so cold. "Because I am. Because if enough people have said it than they must be right."
Francis’ gaze fell, and he shook his head. He let his hand fall from his hair to his knee again. It felt like they had gone full circle. “Alright,” he murmured with a sigh, retreating back into silence. He let his head hang down, resting his chin on his chest. He wasn’t going to try and counsel someone who didn’t want to be counseled.
Jack closed his eyes again. He just wanted someone to hold him and love him and want him and god, he knew that that would never happen again, because being loved like that, for someone like him? That could only happen once in a lifetime, and it was already over. It was already over, and he would do anything just to get it back.
Francis had never had that type of close, intimate, romantic love with anyone, but he missed it. He missed having the close, confidant type of relationship with his brother. But he remembered his brother had a girl he courted, and they would stay out late taking walks in the snow, or laying in the grass in springtime looking up at the stars. She made him dandelion flower crowns, and he would wear them all day just for her. Oh, lord, he had wanted that type of closeness for forever, but he was committed to meeting the right person. He just hadn’t met him… no, her yet. He missed a feeling he never even had.
Jack sniffed, sounding like he might start crying in a minute. He took a deep breath. "Can I…can you…" he didn't know how to say what he wanted. "CanyouholdmejustforaminuteandthenyoucanleaveandhatemeagainjustpleaseIneedsomeonetoholdme…" the words came out in a nearly indecipherable jumble, rushed and difficult to make out.
“Pardon?” Francis looked up and raised an eyebrow, trying to translate what Jack just said. He was quiet for some time while he processed, “Are you…asking me to hug you?” He guessed from the few words he deciphered hold me, and minute. Either that or he misunderstood that statement very badly. He didn’t really show affection or comfort through physical touch, but if it would help him feel better…
Jack nodded a little bit, eyes shying away from Francis, afraid to make eye contact. "Please?" he asked softly. "You can go back to hating me or whatever right afterwards. Just for a minute." he swallowed, rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair, almost scared to hear what Francis would say.
Francis wasn’t sure what to say. He let a long breath out of his nose. Could he trust him? Especially after the carriage ride this morning? This situation felt very different from the carriage ride, and Francis had needed a hug for a long time. But the smell of the alcohol, and he hated the idea of Jack later going out to get even more drunk and… He scrunched up his expression with uncertainty, pushing his doubts out of his mind, “Alright, yes. But it doesn’t mean we’re anything more than friendly acquaintances— oh, and it never happened after it’s over.”
Jack nodded quickly. "Okay." he agreed, eyes flicking up to Francis for just a moment, then away again. "Agreed." he raked a hand through his hair again, the golden strands messy and sticking up haphazardly all over his head. Curled up like he was, he looked so vulnerable and young and small, nothing like the brazen flirt from the carriage ride.
Francis inched closer to Jack, hesitant and unsure, until he was right in front of him. He tensed at the light smell of alcohol, but it was nothing he couldn’t dismiss for now—as long as it wasn’t near him. “Could you push the alcohol away?” He asked quieter, feeling another minuscule wave of sickness rise in his throat. “That’s the only thing I really hate, and I can’t be near it without feeling ill… I don’t think you want me getting sick on your back when I hug you,” he awkwardly laughed.
Jack let out a soft laugh, and tossed the closed flask onto his bed. "There." he said softly, glancing at Francis for a moment. He shifted slightly, fidgeting with his hands for a moment. He really did look so vulnerable like this. So needy and desperate to be held and loved and wanted. And god, that was what he wanted.
Francis watched Jack through the flask into the bed, and he let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you,” he looked Jack over for a moment. He really did look so small. It was so unlike the Jack he first met that morning, and the Jack on the boat to France. His heart was pounding, his hand shaking while leaned forward. He first gingerly touched Jack on the shoulder, flinching away as if he touched a fire. It’s just a hug, why am I so awkward about this? he scolded himself. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Maybe he just had to go for it.
Jack nodded a little. At the flinch, he seemed to shrink into himself again, as if he thought the flinch was his fault. See? He doesn't even want to touch you. "It's okay. You…you don't have to if you don't want to." he said softly, not looking at Francis. He swallowed, taking a deep, slightly shaky breath.
“No, it’s fine. It’s just…odd.” He admitted, wondering how he should approach this. Eventually, he convinced himself to not even think about it. He wrapped his arms around Jack’s shoulders. The hug was tense, and he stared open-eyed at the wall behind Jack for the short duration. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was nice.
Jack leaned against him a little bit without quite meaning to. He let out a breath, closing his eyes and leaning his head on Francis' shoulder. He couldn't bring himself to care that the hug was stilted and forced and awkward. He was being held, even if he wasn't loved or wanted or needed.
(I gotta go to sleep now, goodnight!)
Francis hovered his hands over Jack’s upper back, barely grazing the fabric of his shirt. He stayed like that for a few moments, then slowly leaned into the hug. It didn’t mean anything, but he was surprised how nice it felt to hug someone again. It felt like it had been years. Silently, he began to count the seconds to make it a true minute like Jack had asked.
(alright. Goodnight!)
Jack was trembling a little bit, as if afraid that Francis would just suddenly push him away. He swallowed hard, still leaning into Francis' body. His own body fit neatly in the circumference of Francis' arms like a puzzle piece, and his eyes flickered open for a moment, then closed again.
This was so perfect, and he was so nice to hold. His hair, and how he looked curled up, how small. He felt his stomach lurch with a sudden swarm of butterflies— No, no! he couldn’t do this or think about him that way, he couldn’t couldn’t, not when Jack was going off to get drunk and sleep with someone else. Francis counted faster in his head until he finally reached sixty. A minute couldn’t have felt any longer than that moment. At the final second, he abruptly pulled away from Jack, unable to look him in the eyes anymore, “I have to leave,” he croaked.
Jack nodded a little bit, unable to meet Francis' eyes. "Alright. Uhm…thank you." he said quietly, glancing up at the other boy for a moment, then away again. "For…for that." he knew that Francis had no idea how much that had meant to him. To just be held, without the expectation that then they would get on the bed and he would spread his legs. Without the expectation of anything more. Just a hug.
“You’re welcome.” Franck’s said curtly and stood up. He straightened his undershirt, thoroughly flustered. He cleared his throat again. “I’ll see you at dinner.” Per their agreement, the hug never happened. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that it felt nice, and that for the first time in a long time, a normally chaotic part of his mind was at peace. Francis didn’t know how much Jack had needed it, but he knew that he had needed it.