Page 61 of We Were Never Lovers
“I kinda wanted to punch you,” Sean said now, and Jack slumped and nodded his head.
“I know.”
“But I always kinda want to punch you,” Sean said and took his wrist between his forefinger and thumb.
Jack nodded. “I know, you said that the first time I told you all this.”
Sean raised both eyebrows.
“Yeah,” Jack nodded again, slid his hand up so he could slide his fingers between Sean’s. “I know this sucks for you, I know whatever sucks for me is not even like, comparable. But I gotta say, havin’ to do all this talking again? Well, it sucked the firsttime. And now it’s like, I gotta admit all the ways I was an asshole for another go round.”
He sighed and looked so despondent, Sean had to laugh at him.
“What?” Jack met his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. “I love it when you laugh,” he said before Sean could answer and reached up to brush his thumb near the corner of Sean’s lip. “You didn’t laugh around me after that first night for years. And I’d hear you laughing with Ben and just like, loved hearin’ it.”
Sean dropped his head against Jack’s chest and Jack’s arms came around him to hold him close.
“What are we?” he asked against the fabric of Jack’s shirt. Jack breathed and Sean moved up and down with the movement of his chest. He traced his fingers under the hem of Jack’s shirt, ran his fingers along the top of his waistband.
“I dunno anymore,” Jack said and sounded about as honest as he ever had.
“What were we?” he tried instead, his palms coming to rest on Jack’s hips, fingers digging under his pants and pressing against the firm swell of his glutes.
Jack pressed his face to the top of Sean’s head and breathed, lips pressing against his hair in a firm kiss. “Do you love me?” he asked in a low voice.
Sean pulled back and Jack dropped his arms instantly.
“That’s not fair,” Sean said because it wasn’t. Jack knew what they were, knew all this stuff Sean didn’t. Knew as well, apparently, that Sean had never been joking; he’d been made a fool of once, then got injured to boot. And now all this.
“I know, I’m sorry,” Jack said.
“Do you love me?” Sean countered, eyes searching Jack’s, daring him.
Jack rubbed the back of his neck, eyes down. Answer enough.
Sean stepped back. He felt like a fool. Again.
“No, wait,” Jack reached for him and Sean sprung away, surprising himself. He felt hot again, a rush of humiliation flooding him. Because he’d always loved Jack and while he’d somehow managed to start tapping that in the last two years, Jack still didn’t love him back.
“I’m fucking this up,” Jack said and straightened. “It’s not easy ‘cos like, you hate me again—”
“I don’t fuckin’ hate you, I never fuckin’ hated you,” Sean snapped and moved back into the living room.
Jack laughed, a bitter sound. “Yeah, yeah you did. And you should’ve.”
“No, I didn’t, not like properly,” Sean admitted and wondered how he’d ended up being the one explaining himself. But living with Jack had given him a close up of the boy he’d had a crush on, the man he’d dedicated himself to despising, and he knew what his hatred was—it was resentment, it was the tangled web of shame he’d felt at knowing he was right to like Jack in the first place, and then get burned so badly by him. It was himself he hated, for loving him in the first place. But now he’d been hoping maybe they were something. Except what had Jack said?
“You said we were never lovers,” Sean said.
“We weren’t,” Jack said quickly, too quickly. He was holding his elbows with both hands, squeezing, eyes fixed on a point past Sean’s head.
“So, best mates who fuck,” Sean said angrily, “and share fucked-up pillow talk. Yeah, okay.”
“I’m really fucking this up,” Jack said under his breath.
“Again,” Sean retorted.
Jack nodded. “Again.”
