Letters and Light

by DOShae

At the start of their senior year of college, Hick and Jack spend a lazy Saturday afternoon in their apartment. It is simply a chance for them to spend time together to pursue their own interests both alone and together. Throughout the course of the afternoon they talk, re-discover just what drew them together in the first place, and consider where the future will take them. (AU)

Letters and Light

A Hijack AU

Written for the Reverse HiJack Big Bang Event

by D.O'Shae

The late summer light streamed through the skylight, bathing everything in the room below in a golden glow. Motes of dust seemed to both dance and hang in the air like minute baubles from another realm. The carpeting upon which the light fell, threadbare, worn, and faded from too many afternoons in the sun, lay littered with the detritus of minds focused on other endeavors. Bookcases stood against one wall, an unusual sight in modern apartments, and the shelves sat crowded with tomes frayed from repeated readings. In the middle of the room a low-lying coffee table hunkered in front of the couch. The surfaced crazed by chips and cracks could be seen between piles of notebooks. An overstuffed chair rested in one corner away from the muzzy illumination. The gray and yellow striped fabric now looked blue and off-white after years of use and fading. In the midst of the living room sat a lumpy sofa upholstered in once fashionable but now garish material bore the marks and stains of continued use. Both looked comfortable and inviting. Both harbored a sole individual intent on a personal project.

A piercing blue eye looked through the viewfinder of a digital SLR camera. Seeing the world translated through a glass lens seemed to make sense to the owner of the eye: it blocked out the extraneous and allowed one to focus on a single subject. A camera could frame an entire environment into a single, precise moment that defied both space and time. In many respects it performed a unique piece of magic. The person holding the camera became obsessed with learning to control it and extending its powers after having won it at a student union raffle.

"If you take my picture and plaster it anywhere on the 'net, I'll make you the centerpiece of vicious limerick."

The tenor voice issued from the supine form lying on the beaten yet beloved sofa. The head never turned nor looked away from the notebook lying beneath it. The wild shock of russet hair, some of which in the back remained in the small braid twisted the evening before during a night out at a bar, obscured the profile and made it impossible to see at what the green eyes stared. The only evidence the left hand moved as it wrote came from the subtle shifting of the shoulder.

"I can't even see your face," the other voice, a surprisingly light baritone, replied. "Besides, I'm still trying to figure out what color your hair really is."

"There once was a boy from Maine…"

"What do you mean 'once'? I still exist!"

"Who often became quite a pain…"

"I am not!"

"With his eye to a box…"

"What? Can't you even rhyme camera?"

"Looking for shocks…"

"You know chimera kinds of rhymes."

"Of course it does: the two words end in the same letters," the poet among them said in a feigned huff. "Not really giving you poetry cred, you know?"

Then the broad face with a somewhat rounded nose and spattered with freckles turned and grinned. The slightly skewed smile spoke of planned mischief. The verdant irises sparkled. Then the camera clicked.

"You are so going to pay for that," Hick grunted and shook his head.

"It's for me and me only," Jack rejoined and began snickering.

Jack lowered the camera and looked over his knees. He sat in a crouch with his legs pulled up to his chest, a normal posture for him when he occupied the armchair, and returned the smirk. His blond-as-to-be-white hair sat in complete disarray on his head and waved as though alive whenever Jack moved his head. His coif resulted from the fact he and Hick slept in until almost noon, having decided the night before they would simply spend the day relaxing in their rather shabby but much adored apartment. Moreover, they also agreed to make it an 'incommunicado' day wherein they turned off all their electronic devices. While friends and relatives found it annoying, both young men rather enjoyed the quiet it offered. Finally and as starving college students, a day spent relaxing with one another also spared their sparse leisure money.

"Did you hear what Tuff said last night?" Jack inquired in an attempt to change the topic.

"His name is Toby and you shouldn't listen to him or his sister. They're both kind of insane."

"He said we should start calling you Hector from now on."

"No," Hick flatly intoned.

"But it is your given name," Jack responded.

"After the last three years, do you really think you could start calling me Hector?"

Jack realized Hick made a good point.

Hick and Jack met in their first year of college during an introductory freshman English course, where he learned to call him Hick, and became fast friends by the time mid-term examinations rolled around. When the class finals arrived in December, they acknowledged their mutual attraction and their friendship evolved into something more. Neither ever hid their true nature, and their respective friends seemed to approve of the arrangement. By the mid-terms of their second freshman semester, Hick and Jack became nearly inseparable. When their sophomore year arrived, they managed to get a dorm room together. From that moment on, everyone considered them a full-time couple.

"Probably not, but… Hick kind of sounds… country, and you're definitely not country," Jack remarked while plying his eye to the image in the small screen at the back of the camera.

"I'm not having this argument with you again. Just leave it alone," Hick grumbled.

"It's a childhood nickname, and maybe you need something more grown up!"

Hick shook his head and looked back down at the unfinished stanza of a longer epic poem he vowed to complete before the last bit of summer turned to fall in two short weeks. The issue of his nickname erupted every year, and his protestations that he detested the name Hector never seemed to carry any weight. As he already pointed out, everyone habitually called him Hick and he saw no reason to end the practice. Granted, his nickname stemmed from a shortened version of the word hiccup and an incident in his third year of primary school when he hiccuped for three non-stop days. He went from being the kid who hiccuped all the time to simply Hiccup by the conclusion of that school year. When he got to middle school, the name got chopped down to Hick, and it stuck. Even what remained of his family called him Hick.

"You don't think Hick Haddock has a nice alliterative ring to it?"

Jack rolled his eyes and counted the many ways this conversation would turn sideways and get them nowhere. He personally did not mind the nickname and grew quite used to it over the time they spent together. However, Hick's friends from childhood, Ruby and Toby Thornton, made merciless fun of Hick over it. Jack just wanted to spare his boyfriend from any further annoyance. However, Hick appeared more annoyed by his given name.

"Hector Haddock isn't bad," Jack murmured.

"I sound like a rejected member from some kind of a failed aquatic boy band," Hick growled, "and don't forget to add my middle name for better effect: Hector Harold Haddock!"

"Okay, so your dad has issues."

"And his father before him, and my great grandfather who dragged some version of that name over from Scotland. I think it used be Pictish or something like that from Aberfoyle. Anyway… it's a family disease, Jack! How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"Harold I get, but where did he get Hector?" Jack continued to press.

"Just leave it alone," Hick slowly pronounced each word.

Jack looked away. When the discussion veered into family history, a real argument lay just around corner. Hector Harold Haddock the third and his son, Hector Harold Haddock the fourth, came to loggerheads on just about every issue. Hick claimed it stemmed from when he came out as gay in high school, but Jack knew it originated long before that. Toby Thornton told him the Haddock's never recovered from Hick's mother leaving them during his infancy. Both Jack and Toby felt Mr. Haddock blamed Hick for her departure. Ruby, Toby's twin sister who proved just as loony, agreed. As childhood friends of the Hick's, they saw what really happened.

"So you're going to publish your first book as Hick Haddock then?" Jack inquired hoping to derail yet another topic.

"Damn right I am!"

The fiery gleam in Hick's eyes spoke volumes. Therein lay the core of what Jack found so attractive about the young wordsmith: the passions in Hick burned deep and hot. Few realized the drive nestled under the dark red mane of hair and the emerald eyes. Jack knew it, saw it, understood it, and drew strength from it. He studied his boyfriend who lay dressed in his favorite brown corduroy pants and green turtleneck shirt. Of course, the fuzzy brown slippers detracted from the overall appearance, but Jack ignored those. Hick did not always seem comfortable or confident in his own skin until something raised his ire. Thus, Jack spent half their time together subtly needling Hick to keep the wiry young man from getting too complacent or quiet. Only when those passions got stoked did Hick write his better and extraordinary poetry.

"I can see the wheels spinning in your head, Jack, so out with it!" Hick ordered.

"I think you should spend Christmas up in Camden with me and my family this year," Jack blurted to cover what really drifted through his skull.

Hick shook his head and replied: "Why the hell are you bringing this up now? That's over three months away… and you know I can't leave my dad alone during the holidays."

"Hector is always trying to drag you down to Miami, so let him go and have fun. You always say you can't imagine Christmas without snow and, believe me, we've got snow to spare up in Camden! Let yourself have fun for at least one Christmas!"

Hick narrowed his eyes while he watched Jack speak. Garbed in dark gray jeans and his treasured blue, hooded sweatshirt with bleach stains across the shoulders and down one arm. The white splotches stood out in the shadows where his boyfriend liked to ensconce himself. Jack said it allowed him to see the light better in their living room. Hick believed the habit originated due to coming from a large family where he wound up the second to youngest child out of seven and grew accustomed to being ignored. It bothered Hick that in almost any setting Jack could turn nearly invisible and blend in with the walls. The slender young man with absurdly naturally bleach-blonde hair seemed to be able to project a field whereby others failed to notice he stood in their midst. Since first meeting Jack in a freshman class, Hick always noticed him.

"Jackson Freis, what are you really planning?" Hick queried and let suspicion fill his voice.

"I'm just trying to offer you a way out of spending another miserable three weeks with you dad," Jack rumbled out the words. "You always come back so depressed and angry because your dad spends the entire time trying to convince you to choose another major and making fun of everything you are!"

Hick felt his face heat up. It proved Jack truly knew him. Memories of three terrible winter breaks rolled through his head. His father hated the fact Hick wanted to study English and become both a teacher and a writer. The third Hector Haddock to carry the name never hid his enormous dislike for poetry, the one discipline at which his son excelled. The fourth Hector Haddock to carry the name suspected, and it did not take an educated guess, his father chafed against having a gay son. Poetry got used as a proxy in their arguments. The idea of spending nearly a month alone with his father in the empty house did not appeal, yet a sense of filial obligation compelled him.

He tried to shrug and lied: "It's not that bad."

Jack carefully set down his beloved camera and then stood up. He walked into the light like a ghost coming out of the gloom. The unusually thick eyebrows on such a lean face drew closer together as consternation began to take root. The slender young man walked forward as soundlessly as a cat. Green eyes watched his every move, and a bit of worry began to creep into them. Jack tended to resist getting angry without good provocation. It usually took a Herculean effort to get him to raise his hackles. However, once unleashed, his temper turned volatile.

"Don't lie to me, Hick," Jack seethed. "Don't forget that I'm the one in bed next to you who gets to hear what goes through your head while you sleep! I hear the anger and disappointment… see it… feel it, and you won't let me even help."

"Jack," Hick calmly said the name as a defense.

Jack continued his relentless walk to the sofa. Even though he crossed only a short distance, Hick felt as though his boyfriend stalked him like a panther. He learned two years ago the thin, wiry frame contained a lot more power than anyone could guess. The memory of watching Jack throw a punch into the throat of a frat boy who tried to bully them never dimmed. Jack contained himself until the man threatened break Hick's arm, and then he let loose. The slight young man explained nearly a lifetime fighting with brothers taught him how to handle his fists. Few knew about the strong protective nature that lay within the nearly white-haired young man. Thus, at that moment, Hick knew that instinct got aimed at him.

"Then are you finally going to tell him? Huh? Are you finally going to tell dear old dad you're not moving back to Chicago when you graduate?" Jack ground out the questions through a clenched jaw.

"He'd just cut off my tuition, and you know he would," Hick said while performing a rather intricate acrobatic move to switch from lying on his stomach to sitting and facing upward.

"He didn't cut off your tuition when you said you were going to spend the summer here in Ohio," his boyfriend deftly countered.

"Only because I said I was going to work all summer to save him from having to provide me spending cash in the fall. Besides, that helps prove I can't afford to do this on my own. Did you bother to consider I won't get the chance to graduate if he knows I'm going to move to New York?"

Jack, still fully nettled, glared down at Hick. His blue eyes flashed with dangerous glints. He raced through a thousand arguments in his mind to try and convince Hick he needed to separate from his emotionally and psychologically abusive father. Hick, without exception, always countered his father would cut of the monetary support, and both could not dismiss the fact Hick could not pay for Oberlin College on his own. For his part, Jack survived on a generous grant and scholarship. Although he became obsessed with photography during the past two years, he continued studying child psychology. Jack felt as though his interest in the development of the human psyche gave him a unique eye when it came to photography since he wanted to capture the emotions and feelings of a moment. Despite his financial security in regard to paying for classes and supplies, he did not dismiss how tentative life could be for others. Hick, conversely, depended solely on his father's ability to pay.

"It sucks in a major way, but that's why I have to go spend Christmas with him," Hick unnecessarily concluded.

The standing young man felt his anger diminish, and he flopped down on the sofa next to his boyfriend. He lowered his head to Hick's shoulder, gazing at the sunlight streaming in from the skylight and watched the dust dance in the air agitated from his passage. He sighed in resignation.

"After this winter, it won't matter. It'll be the last one in Chicago. When we graduate in May, I'll say goodbye to him."

"And after that?" Jack prodded, and he wanted to hear the plan once again.

"After that we'll get a rabbit farm, and you can spend all day…" Hick began to say in a teasing voice.

"I swear if you call me Lenny I'll shave your head the next time you get drunk."

"You would not."

Jack lifted his head and turned it toward Hick. Hick spent a few seconds studying the face with finely wrought features. Sometimes he looked at Jack and got jealous. The high cheeks and pert nose lent him a boyish look that would never fade, Hick thought, and it brought the paintings of Caravaggio to mind. Jack's fascination with photography led to full-out infusion of art into their lives. Being able to make a comparison to the works of a classical painter privately pleased Hick. He found all he learned from his insanely curious boyfriend tended to enhance his writing. In that respect, Jack took on a very important role in his life in prompting him to explore new intellectual venues. However, the steely determination he saw at the moment on the visage of his boyfriend told Hick his hair undoubtedly stood in peril.

"And maybe you would," he finally confessed.

"You know, I think you might look good with a shaved head," Jack remarked while staring without blinking at the top of Hick's skull.

"Stop looking at me like you're a headhunter or some kind of cannibal. It's really, really weird."

Jack smirked and then asked: "Did you hear back from CUNY yet?"

"They're waiting for my fall semester grades and graduate exam results, and then they'll let me know if I got into the teacher education program."

"I have every confidence."

"Well, at least that makes one of us," Hick rejoined as his voice dropped in pitch.

Jack frowned and said: "Look, I didn't spend all that time helping you fill out paperwork to not have you get in. Besides, if I get in at Columbia…"

"Like there's any chance of them denying you…"

"They might. I still have to take the GREs…"

"Which you'll pass with flying colors…"

"Will you let me finish?" Jack hotly inquired.

Hick shook his head and grinned.

"What?" Jack spat out the question when he spied the expression.

"Please, oh master of academic probation, tell me the lowest grade you've achieved here?" Hick semi-sarcastically fired back.

The slighter of the two scowled and looked away.

"Wait! Wait! Did I just hear ay-minus? Huh?" The red-haired one intoned. "Oh, that's right! You got two ay-minuses, so you must be really, really worried about getting into an ivy-league school graduate program!"

"You're an asshole," Jack grumbled and tried to sound angry.

Hick threw his arms around the slender frame and squeezed until Jack wheezed. Jack lightly dug his elbow into Hick's side as a form of protest. Hick, however, being larger and stronger shrugged off the attempt. They sat in the rather tight and somewhat uncomfortable position for several long moments.

"Listen," Hick said in normal manner. "I just want to make certain I can at least graduate from here and get to New York with a degree under my belt. If that means I have to spend another fucking miserable Christmas with my dad, then I think it's a small price to pay."

"Yeah, I guess," Jack said and tried to shrug.

Hick released him and leaned back so he could assess his boyfriend. His manner did not indicate a ringing endorsement of the reality of the situation. Jack stared forward into the middle ground of the living room.

"You really wanted me to go to Camden, didn't you?"

Jack nodded. His semi-white hair danced with the motion.

"Was it for me or you?" Hick gently inquired.

"Both, I guess," his boyfriend softly replied, "I told you ever since Uncle Nick died my sister is the only one who really wants to spend any time with me."

Hick felt himself sag. Jack told him countless stories of Uncle Nick who, if the truth be told, sounded as though he looked and acted like Father Christmas. Aside from Betsy, Jack's sister, the man seemed to be the sole family member who never made subtle jokes about Jack's sexuality. Hick wondered at times if Jack's Uncle Nick hid a secret, but Jack assured him Nick tended to be straighter than average. What the man possessed in abundance came in the form of compassion and understanding for his nephew, and no one seemed to understand why. However, Jack accepted it without question. Thus, when the man passed away from a heart attack two years before, it left him emotionally wounded and numb for half a year.

"What about Pete or Toots?" Hick asked, reciting the names of his boyfriend's two closest childhood friends.

"How many times do I have to tell you Pete doesn't come back very often from California, and Toots spends most of her time overseas now working with the Smile Train and the Peace Corp?"

Hick ignored the anger in Jack's voice. He understood it stemmed from missing his friends and lacking other outlets to express his frustration at their absence. Like Toby and Ruby, Pete and Toots took the news of Jack's sexual orientation as though he told them he started to read a new book. Hick met them both once when they came to Oberlin during spring break of their junior year. He enjoyed the two immeasurably, and watching Jack open up in their presence remained one of his finest memories. He still marveled at the fact neither Jack nor Pete would tell him Toots' real name. He did manage to discover her nickname stemmed from a middle school career of trying and failing to master the clarinet.

The two sat in silence. Hick could feel something percolating in the back of his mind. It worried him when his brain made plans without actively involving his conscious mind. He told Jack about what occasionally occurred, and Jack did not think him crazy. Hence, he forced himself to sit patiently while his brain chugged away. Jack shifted in his hold.

"My back is starting to kink," Jack complained, and his boyfriend released him entirely. He stretched and exhaled in relief:"Ah-h-h-h-h-h!"

"Sorry," Hick mumbled.

"What are you thinking?"

"Don't know… yet."

Jack felt his eyes grow wide. When the young man admitted he did not know what he actively thought, it tended to produce interesting results. A secret thrill that Hick's own mind resisted his iron control rippled through Jack. He believed the one he came to deeply love needed to learn to relax and, in common parlance, go with the flow. Given the nature of the senior Hector Haddock, however, it made sense Hick would maintain a rigid grip on his emotions and thinking. The Haddock father and son team always seemed to be engaging in some form of mental warfare.

"Can I ask you something stupid?" Hick queried and opted to engage in conversation.

Jack simply raised his eyebrows to give permission. His face remained purposefully blank. The blue eyes just stared at his boyfriend.

"Ha, ha," Hick sniped at the expression on Jack's face, "Anyway, what are the chances I can talk you into coming to Chicago with me for winter break?"

"Only if you're willing to face the wrath of Clara Freis," the one with the almost white hair drolly replied.

"Yeah, that ain't happening. She'd go that ballistic if you didn't show for Christmas?"

Jack stared at Hick after hearing the half-question and said: "Are you purposefully forgetting how she acted when I didn't go home for spring break last year?"

"But your friends came down here!" Hick protested to the memory of Jack's mother's reaction when she realized her youngest son would not be going home for break. "Christ, she really lost it."

"Now, magnify that by a factor of ten… like they do for earthquakes, and think about how she reacted when I decided to stay here over the summer," Jack flatly responded.

Hick groaned. Mrs. Freis yelled at both of them until the end of semester over the fact Jack stayed in Ohio instead of going home to Maine for a week. She acted as though one or the other of them deliberately conspired to keep her child away from her after such a long absence of two months. Her reaction to the news Jack planned to stay in Oberlin over the summer became legendary. They both suffered nightmares in the wake of that particular period. The event also taught Hick Jack's mother held a grudge with consummate skill. She let slip with subtle digs that Hick should not plan on dominating all of Jack's time regardless of where their relationship took them.

"Hey, since you asked me about my dad, how did your mom take it when you told her you're applying to Columbia? You never did tell me," Hick questioned and stated.

"I'll give you one guess, "Jack confidently rejoined.

"Lots of crying and asking how could you?"

"Right in one, but it was much, much worse than that. She's convinced I am going to get killed in New York and she'll never see me again."

Green eyes rolled at the expected result.

"Really?" Jack grunted at the expression. "Do you forget everything I tell you?"

"Like what?" Hick grumbled in return, although he privately admitted he did sometimes tune out when Jack went on about life in Camden.

"Like how she acted when I came out to her."

"You never told me that one. All you ever said was I wouldn't believe how it went."

"Bullsh…"Jack began and then halted. He scanned Hick's face and did not detect any falsehood. "I really never told you?"

Hick's head swung from side to side while he said: "Trust me: I'd remember that!"

Hick then got treated to a half-hour long retelling of Clara Freis finding out about her son. In a small town on the Atlantic coast in Maine, even though it rested near the liberal enclaves of New Hampshire and Vermont, the news one of the Freis boys wound up gay still caused a minor sensation. Jack's mother went into an apoplectic fit. She first accused him of playing an intentionally cruel joke. When that did not pan out, Mrs. Freis tried to convince him he might be wrong since Jack never dated, but Jack dispelled that theory with the fact he did not want to date women. When his brothers heard, the situation grew worse. They made relentless fun of him and constantly reminded their mother who wanted nothing more than to not talk about it. Thus, Jack's mother remained in a fine fury for weeks on end.

In completely bizarre contrast, Mr. Freis treated Jack no differently from one day to the next at the start. It seemed the man felt as though his wife more than reacted for the two of them. However, Jack said his father became subtly and eventually noticeably colder toward him over time. In the duration, Mrs. Freis came to accept the new reality and became more protective over Jack. The difference between his parents seemed odd.

"Then she had to meet every guy I went out with… and that usually ended most dates," Jack bitterly grumbled as the story came to a close.

"How bad?" Hick persisted even though he could tell Jack did not want to discuss it.

"Did your dad ever ask what your date's intentions were… and mean it in a completely sexual way?"

The native-born Chicagoan felt his mouth drop open.

"She had rules, Hick, and she laid them right out on the table before I could go out… and the guy had to agree," Jack revealed in a tired voice.

"So you literally meant the dates came to an end right then and there?" Hick pressed for confirmation.

Jack nodded his head.

"Harsh."

"Oh, yeah."

It appeared to both the modern age skipped right over their respective parents. Hick never told his father when he went out on dates, and his father never asked. Like Jack's mother, his parent also presented a long list of strict rules when Hick did go out. Failure to comply resulted in all privileges being taken away, including his smart phone. For a child growing up in a major metropolitan environment, the loss of that commodity hurt the worst. When his smart phone went missing, Hick felt cut off from the rest of the world even though he lived in a densely populated city. On the exact opposite extreme, Jack never got the luxury since the Freis' could not afford a smart phone for all their children and they would not co-sign on a data or voice plan. Jack did not get his first private cell phone until he graduated from high school. Only when they started living together did Jack managed to save enough money to get a smart phone, and that ultimately led to the planned incommunicado days.

"Is there something wrong with our families?" Jack whispered as though he read Hick's mind.

"Probably not. They're probably just… average, I guess," his boyfriend responded.

Jack leaned back and stared at the grimy ceiling. Whoever rented the apartment before them loved candles and dark, greasy soot marred many surfaces. Since the ceiling angled upward ten feet above their heads, it seldom got cleaned. Hick joined him in the silent study of the gray demesne. Neither could recall when it happened as they slipped into a nap in the quiet of their small world.

Sorting out who woke first with a snort and a start became impossible. At some point in their nap they slid down onto the sofa, so beaten and broken down it came close to forming a cocoon around them, and ended up lying in a spoon position. Unlike how it happened in their shared bed, Jack curled around Hick. Each glanced around as though they did not know their location when they woke. Jack came to his senses first. His blue eyes surveyed the room. The sun no longer shone directly down into the skylight. He looked at Hick's face.

"Flying again?" He asked after recognizing the way his boyfriend kept staring off into the distance.

"There's this dark face and huge eyes – yellow eyes, kind of green – that keep looking back at me like I'm supposed to know where we are and where we're going. Sometimes… sometimes I can even feel the wind on my face," Hick slowly stated as though he struggled to retain the memory.

"You're the only one I know who needs assistance flying in a dream," Jack teased.

"No," Hick protested, "it's something more than that. It's like me… and… whatever it is I'm flying on are supposed to be together up in the sky. It's like I can still hear the wings beating against the air."

"Like a bird or… or a… gryphon… dragon? What?"

Hick titled his head to one side as he thought since he could not identify the creature from his dreams, but it felt important to him. Then he glanced at Jack and said: "Something big, and it really likes to fly. Does it happen to you? Flying that is?"

Jack shrugged his shoulders draped in blue and said through a yawn: "Not as offen as it happens to you, but when I do I'm just floating in the air… and it's cold… and it snows a lot in my dreams. Weird, huh? Like Camden in the winter is following me around."

Hick stared at him for a second.

"What?"

"Got to piss."

"Ever the romantic," Jack droned and rolled his eyes.

Despite his reaction to the statement, he joined his boyfriend in the small bathroom. They stood together and urinated. Jack warned about crossing the streams, a la Ghostbusters, and the comment led to a liquid sword fight. Both stood giggling and snickering as though they were in grade school and being naughty. Their sense of the ridiculous stayed in the forefront of their minds even after they exited.

"My mom would be so disappointed I didn't wash my hands," Jack bemoaned for his mother.

"And now I'm going to make a sandwich with my unclean hands!" Hick announced and veered toward a galley that hardly served as a kitchen.

The stove nestled next to the counter top with a tiny sink in it, and the small refrigerator sat on the other side. The circular dining table with three chairs around it routinely hosted meal preparation. Like all of their furniture price came before functionality that came before style. As student apartments ran, at least they kept their confines clean and orderly to compensate for the extremely pedestrian look of their furniture. Jack stood by the table while Hick went to the refrigerator and began pulling out whatever he could find.

"Ooh, I'm a-making one, too," Jack said when he saw the ham and cheese emerge.

Food, the least costly they could buy, got handed to him. After bumping the refrigerator door with a hip to make certain it stayed closed, Hick went in search of paper plates. Jack began to pull enough bread from the package to make two sandwiches, after which only three pieces remained. All of the supplies seemed low. Jack frowned.

"Did Toby go digging through our food again?" He asked and it formed a complaint.

"Millie stopped by two nights ago before class," Hick replied and thought it sufficed for an answer.

Jack grimaced at the mention of the name. Millie, whose real name Mildred always got foreshortened by her preference, grated on Jack's nerves. Born in northern Germany but immigrated to the United States in her early teenage years, she wore her heritage like armor. Moreover, her secret desire for Hick long since became blatant. Despite the number of times both Hick and Jack told her she did not stand a chance, Millie persisted. Of late she tried to corner or visit Hick alone. The two young men eyed one another when Hick returned with the plates.

"You know she'll never succeed?" Hick half asked and half asserted.

"I know, but you'd think she'd get the message by now, and what's with all the sneaking around she does?" Jack rejoined.

"She knows you don't like her."

"I would if she'd quit hitting on my boyfriend!"

Hick speared two pieces of bread with a butter knife, laid them out on his plate, and squirted a generous amount of mustard on each. Jack never understood the Chicagoan love affair with mustard. Many tried to explain the sausage factor, but that also confused him. In retaliation, Jack put only small dollop on his bread and spread it thinly across the surface of one piece. Hick stared at the preparation as though it affronted his senses. They then divided what remained of the ham and added a single slice of rubbery American cheese to it. While not entirely satisfying, it fell well within their budgetary constraints. Once the sandwiches reached completion, Jack stored the mustard and cheese in the refrigerator, nudging it closed with his butt, while Hick threw away the ham wrapping. They both sat at the table to eat.

"Why do straight people think gay people can change?" Jack posed the open question through half a mouthful of food.

"The same reason why most gay guys think they can get straight guys into bed," Hick replied through the sandwich bits in his mouth.

"Did you ever try that?"

Hick remained entirely too quiet. Jack pointed out a smudge of yellow on his face, and Hick swiped the errant condiment off with a finger and then licked it clean. Once again, the Midwestern love of mustard eluded explanation. Toby and Ruby also shared the same affliction.

"So what happened?" Jack surmised the most likely answer.

"Got the shit kicked out of me," Hick confirmed. "Wasn't pretty."

"Didn't your dad sue? Seems like something he'd litigate over."

"Nope," Hick firmly stated. "Said I did it to myself."

"So what did you do?"

Once again silence reigned. They each took a bite of their sandwich. Jack narrowed his eyes as he considered the situation. Hick chewed and did not look directly at him.

"Oh, come on, Hick! It can't be that bad," Jack pressured his boyfriend.

"It was stupid, I paid the price, and that's all you need to know," Hick quietly confirmed.

"You know I'm going to ask Toby or Ruby, right?"

"It is so unfair they got in here!"

"No, they're good students even if there isn't something quite right about them, and from what I heard it was your idea they should apply to Oberlin in the first place," Jack reminded him.

"Never thought they'd do it or even get in," Hick darkly muttered.

"The best laid plans of mice and men…."

Hick shot him a faux angry glance. He did whenever Jack used his steel-trap mind to spout off some random piece of culture few others would understand. Given the crowded and somewhat austere upbringing in such a large family, Jack spent a lot of time in his youth reading. Hick learned the local library in Camden became his boyfriend's favorite haunt. He also learned it served as an impromptu meeting place for other gay youth. Jack constantly claimed if his mother ever discovered what really happened at the library, she would ban him for life from the place. Hick prepared to continue talking about the Thornton twins, but his boyfriend beat him to swallowing first.

"Really, tell me what happened that got you beat up?" Jack returned to the starting point.

Hick sighed and gave in: "Some guys were getting high under the bleachers at a school football game…"

"I thought you hated pot?"

"Shut up and listen," Hick commanded and then continued, "and this is the reason why."

Jack jammed a quarter of the sandwich in his mouth to keep it occupied.

"Antoine Kessler was down there and it sure as hell surprised me. I'd been hot for him since middle school. He has this really sweet light brown skin and dark, kinky hair he kept cut close to his head… 'cause he did gymnastics, and a body…"

Jack grinned when Hick trailed off as he trudged through his memories. Seldom did Jack hear his boyfriend convey statements of pure lust over another male since it meant abdicating the tight control over himself. Thus, it came as a rare treat and Jack silently vowed not to interrupt.

"God, he was beautiful," Hick gushed and red spots appeared on his freckled cheeks. "I guess that's why I went down there. I figured if he was getting baked he might be a little more receptive. Shit, I heard other guys claim half the gymnastics team are fags…"

"Not true," Jack almost instantly violated his vow after cramming the masticated mess into one side of his mouth. "Jealousy. I think like ninety-nine percent of gymnasts are totally straight bird dogs."

"Bird dogs?"

"Some old expression that still gets used in Camden. I think bird means something like chick, and dogs are used for hunting, so… put it together."

"It's like you lived in the same place Leave It to Beaver got filmed," Hick rumbled while staring at this boyfriend.

"You say that every time," Jack countered.

"Well, it's true. It's like Camden got stuck in the 1950s and can't get out."

Jack let his face settle into a droll expression. Hick repeatedly made fun of the seeming archaic mores of Camden. While true to a certain extent, Jack felt the assessment stemmed from the fact Hick grew up in a noisy world where people became anonymous fixtures in everyday life. Sometimes he worried he would not adjust to life in New York if he made it into Columbia University. Perhaps, Jack thought, he really embodied the small-town life of his upbringing.

"Um, back to your story," Jack prodded since he did not want to spend the afternoon debating the differences between their two towns.

"Yeah, right. So, like, Antoine knew about me being gay… everyone did," Hick returned to his narrative, but did not sound entirely enthusiastic. "But he seemed okay with it. That got me to thinking, so I went under the bleachers when I heard his voice. He offered me a hit off the joint, I took it, and I stood around getting wasted…"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait," Jack quickly uttered the interruption. "You mean to say you actually got high with a bunch of guys under the bleachers of your high school during a football game?"

The dark red-haired head nodded.

"Hick, you leave parties if someone even mentions pot!"

"Yeah, because the last time I got baked I started flirting with a guy who wasn't gay, and then he and his friends took turns kicking me in the stomach after punching me in the face five or ten times. I spent two days in a hospital 'cause I don't control myself well when I get high, so I've got to stay away from it!" Hick growled the statements at him.

"And your dad didn't sue?" Jack blurted the question a second time.

"Like I said: Dad thought I brought it on myself."

The almost white-haired young man eyed the one who looked vastly different and said: "Plus he probably didn't want to embarrass himself defending his gay son."

"Jack, it's not like that!" Hick loudly protested.

The two sat across from one another considering the probable course of the conversation in the next five minutes. Jack wanted to press Hick into admitting his father tended to be ashamed of his gay son. Hick wanted to leave the subject alone because nothing would change regardless of what got said. Their plan for the following year would settle the issue. Jack narrowed his eyes, and Hick prepared for the worst.

"You know what I'm going to say," Jack muttered.

"It's not about my mother."

"Bullshit."

Hick crossed his arms over his chest like a battlement. His green eyes sparked with annoyance. Jack, however, did not repent. He remained convinced the issue of abandonment lay at the heart of Hick's relationship with his father. Everything he learned in his studies of psychology pointed to it as an unresolved and major event that persisted into the present day. As if on cue, each young man took a bite out of his sandwich. They sat in silence while they chewed.

"I don't even know what she looks like, Jack. I never did. I never met her," Hick said in the silence.

"But she still exerts influence… even after all these years," Jack said and wasted no time getting to the point.

"It's not true for me. She didn't leave me any memories to cause any influence."

Hick lapsed back into silence while the young man sitting across from him narrowed his ice blue eyes once again. Of all people, one could see the brain at work under the nearly colorless hair. Jack seemed morosely fascinated by the subject of Hick's missing mother. Time and again he returned to the topic. Of course, his speculations got fueled by words Hick committed to paper in his poetry. He started to count down in his head.

"So the missing, shadowy figure motif…"

"I knew you were going to go there!"

Jack slowly took a deep breath. He held it for a second while he closed his eyes. His mind began to react to the prompt.

"Sunless morning long before / A time without recollection / Lonely face in a mirror / An unknown reflection," he quietly recited, and then inhaled. "Whose eyes are these / Like no other ever seen / Staring from the past / A bright evergreen?"

"Alright! Okay! Enough already," Hick interrupted the recitation. "How the hell can you memorize that when you only read it once or twice? And it's not even that good!"

"What color are your dad's eyes?" Jack asked and skipped over Hick's statements.

"Stop it."

"Who are you talking to in that piece? Huh? I can finish reciting the rest of it, and it's very interesting at the end."

"Just… stop… it!" Hick uttered each word with a sense of finality. "Let's go digging through your past and find out what fucked you up?"

"Like what?" Jack challenged.

"Like a mother who suddenly became overprotective of you when she found out you're gay," his boyfriend quickly asserted. "Or what about that oh-so-distant father of yours? And your brothers? What about them? Do you mean to tell me none of that impacts you or that you've resolved all those conflicts?"

Although he acted aloof at times, the words proved Hick listened to Jack more than he admitted. Jack felt the rebuke in the questions. Each point Hick raised left a small stinging sensation in Jack's chest. The reaction showed just how much Hick did understand. That knowledge made him feel assured instead of resentful.

"God, Jack, we live in a society that doesn't accept differences very well and always, always needs someone to kick around. Why do we have to take it out on each other? Huh?"

Jack blinked and tried not to take offense.

"Look, I'm sorry, but… but… I love these days where we spend it together, just me and you in… what do you call it?" Hick said in a more soothing tone.

"Incommunicado," Jack supplied the word.

"Yeah, that, but it doesn't mean we should start picking on each other. Hell, we've got Toby, Ruby, and Snod for that."

"And Millie."

"Sure, but…"

"Hick, I'm just trying to understand you," Jack said before the one he loved could get rolling on a different subject.

"No," Hick sternly negated. "You're trying to fix something in me that isn't broken."

Jack raised a single eyebrow. In order to keep from saying what he wanted, he jammed the last of his sandwich in his mouth. However, he never let his eyes fall away from Hick's.

"How many times do I have to tell you I don't feel abandoned? I literally have no memories of my mother, and my dad only has a few pictures. I can't feel abandoned by someone I didn't know," his boyfriend tersely outlined.

"But your dad…" Jack spoke around the mashed up food in his maw.

Hick interrupted by saying: "My dad is another story entirely. Yes, he feels abandoned, and he blames her for leaving him with a kid he didn't know how to raise and who probably reminds him of her every time he looks at the son she left behind. I can't control that, Jack, and it's not really my issue. Go talk to my dad if you want, Jack, but you've got to stop thinking I'm in the same boat as him!"

The desire to get angry and defensive washed through Jack, but he let it pass. He focused instead on what Hick said. Instinct and training warred within him. Jack conceded his boyfriend did not show any of the classic signs of abandonment issues. Hick did not constantly try to form a new family around him, he did not express any open envy of others with complete families rare though they seemed, and he did not objectify older women as mother figures. Conversely, Jack could not imagine what life would be like without his mother. That notion began to niggle him. He watched as waves of irritation rippled across Hick's face and could not shake the notion he struck upon something new.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"I know you think you're helping, but… Jack, come on, it gets really old after a while. Just let it go."

Jack nodded.

"Maybe you're the one who feels abandoned," Hick half-whispered as he prepared to swallow the last fragments of food in his mouth.

A mouth on the other side of the table opened to protest, and then quietly closed a few seconds later.

"Oh, ho," his red-headed boyfriend cooed. "Did I say something that struck close to home?"

Jack appeared to fold into himself. Hick got up, walked around the table, stood behind his boyfriend, and lowered his head. Jack caught Hick's scent, and it made his head buzz. However, he waited for the other shoe to drop.

"'Til you go flat-out Norman Bates on me and start chopping people up," Hick warbled into his ear, "I'm gonna keep you."

Hick the kissed the side of his neck. The reassurance and mention of a famed movie psychopath jolted Jack's thinking. It made him wonder why he became so fascinated by Hick's mother and her reasons for completely abandoning both husband and son. Once more he realized his deep attachment to his often irritating mother must play a role in his inquiries. Since Hick already put the issue to rest for the time being, Jack forced himself to shove it aside in his mind. Instead, he focused on the depth of feeling he developed for the young man from Chicago over the previous three years.

Jack squirmed and said: "Yeah, I love you, too."

Each knew they would revisit the topic again at some later time, but each privately agreed to let it drop. A free Saturday during their senior year of college did not seem likely to happen again until the major holidays approached. Thus, in quiet, the two cleaned up what small mess they made. They fell back into the easy camaraderie that formed a crucial part of their relationship. Regardless of how effectively they could annoy one another at times, the fact they simply liked each other often took center stage. Thus and in renewed companionable quiet, Hick snagged the empty plate out from under Jack's hand and walked toward the garbage bin. Jack stood, wandered to the sink where he soaked the dishrag, and then went to wipe down the table. When he looked up, he spied Hick watching him and smirking.

"What now?" Jack dryly inquired.

"Just watching you move is all," Hick replied.

"But that grin?"

It widened into a full-blown smile. Jack could not help but smile in return. He always found Hick's expressions to be a bit on the goofy side, but completely endearing. Hick, for his part, often felt amazed someone as handsome as Jack, despite the barn door ears, wound up at his side. He never put much stock in looks, but others in the gay community on campus sometimes complained they thought it unfair he snagged Jack before any of them ever got the opportunity to even know the young man from Maine. Hick, of course, understood that to mean having sex with Jack, so he often played on the remarks much to Jack's embarrassment. At the moment, he just stood and marveled at his fortune.

"You know what the look does to me?" Jack warned.

Hick nodded. Jack, finding himself even more attracted, decided to toy with his boyfriend since he seemed playful at the moment. He felt one side of his mouth raise higher. Hick's eyes widened a bit.

"You know, the lighting is pretty good today, and I always wanted to take some… ah, personal pictures of you…"

"No nudes!" Hick instantly counted.

"How about in those sexy gray trunks I like so much?" Jack continued with his ploy.

Hick propped a fist on each hip, thus striking a quasi-superhero pose, and calmly replied: "Only if you put on those Speedos and let me get a few shots first."

"What? No! I'm too thin."

"Then without?"

"Um, who's the photographer here?"

"I can take pictures," Hick flatly declared. "Besides, I wouldn't mind having something to occupy my eyes while you're up in Maine."

Jack began to shake his head as he walked back to the living room toward his preferred seat. He realized Hick turned the tactic around on him. It reminded him yet again that trying to out think Hick Haddock often proved very difficult. A keen and wily mind lay in the skull topped with rust-red hair. As he neared his chair, Jack began to plan again. He turned and saw Hick aiming for the sofa where he liked to lay and arrange words into something extraordinary. His lean arm and thin hand reached down and grabbed his beloved camera where he carefully laid it hours before. After quickly flicking it on, Jack pressed his eye to the viewfinder and began to twist the barrel of the lens.

"Hey, Hick," he called out.

"Not happening," Hick replied without facing him.

Through the camera Jack followed the action as Hick grabbed the notebook and started to kneel down on the cushions. The face looked downward, scanning the area, and it became obvious he searched for his pen. Through each motion, Hick never once presented enough of his face for Jack to take a shot. Since his boyfriend would not cooperate, Jack waited. Just when Hick started to lower himself and basically stood on all fours for a moment, Jack snapped a series of pictures.

"Oh, you are so going to get it," Hick warbled at him.

"Got a great shot of your butt," Jack said while keeping his eye pressed to the camera.

"What butt?"

Hick finished lowering himself to a supine position, and yet he still kept from looking directly at Jack.

"Sure, it may not be much, but I like it," Jack honestly remarked.

"That, ah, makes at least one person."

"Un-uh. I've heard other guys saying they'd like to get their hands on it."

"Like who?" Hick asked with clear disbelief of the statement.

"Snod said…"

"Snod doesn't count, and you know that. You do remember he tried to get it on with a couch during Brecket's party last year? He said it looked cute."

Jack snorted as the memory replayed itself in his mind. Louis Snodgrass, another who went by a foreshortened name, tended toward the theatrical. With his shock of black hair, mysterious gray eyes, a barrel-chested physique, and a personality as loud as the shirts he liked to wear, Snod formed the outrageous wing of their circle of friends. He also garnered a reputation as one of horniest people at Oberlin.

"August has it for you pretty bad," Jack said after he finished laughing.

Hick rolled his his eyes, still refused to face the camera, and responded: "August looks like he's twelve, and he has that really annoying high pitched voice."

"But he does think you have a cute butt."

"You just won't quit, will you?"

"Why do you have such a hard time accepting the fact you're attractive to people?" Jack queried and kept his boyfriend squarely in frame.

"So, you couldn't get me about my dad, and now you're taking this route. Jack, what are you trying to prove?"

"Oh, that yer dead sexy," he answered in a terrible Scottish accent.

Hick started to laugh.

"Ye're a wee bit of a lad there, Hick, but a tasty morsel if I ever saw one."

"Good god, stop with the Scottish accent. You're awful at it, and don't forget I would know!"

"Ooh, I'd bet ye'd be all the rage with the boys back in Loch… wherever it is yer clan comes from, what with that hair and eyes. So sexy," Jack persisted with the vocal impersonation.

"What is wrong with you?" Hick asked and laughed.

"Just feeling a breeze up my kilt is all after ye flashed me them pearly whites. Ye knows what it does to my blood: gets it all boiling and what not. Ach!"

Hick hung his head down and gave into the mirth. However, he still refrained from staring in Jack's direction. While he wanted to return to his writing, he could not ignore his boyfriend when a case of ridiculous took hold. Because he became adept at disappearing while in a crowd, few witnessed the often hysterical non-sense that came streaming out of Jack. Their core friends saw it from time to time and always tried to get him going. A deep and real playful streak lay in Jack that swept others along when he decided to let it out. No one seemed immune to its power.

"If only ye had a sheepskin blanket over ye…" Jack continued.

"That is just sick," Hick guffawed.

"Ooh, come on, sexy, give me a baa, baa, baa like yer climbing up to the highlands to graze! I knows ye know what gets a Scotsman all randy!"

Hick's entire body convulsed at the sheer stupidity of Jack's act. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Jack swaying back and forth as he laughed. However, the camera remained firmly focused on him. The pale-yellow-to-be-white hair waved in counter tempo. Hick continued to watch as his sinewy boyfriend danced in a nearly snakelike manner. The humor in him began to subside as other feelings and thoughts began to take firm root. Jack's swaying lean hips became mesmerizing.

"Oh, come on, Hick, just look at me once," Jack pleaded in his normal American accent and his laughter died down.

"I am looking at you," Hick quietly rejoined in a sultry voice.

Jack lowered the camera when he heard the tone. He felt his cheeks go flush in reaction. He stopped moving.

"Keep doing that," his boyfriend requested in the same manner. "I like it… a lot."

"Why, Mister Haddock, I do declare," Jack replied in a southern belle fashion.

Hick finally turned his head, and the grin on his face exposed what lay in his mind. Jack swallowed hard in reaction to the visage presented to him. While Hick preferred to maintain a strict control over himself almost all of the time, some situations gave him the freedom to become unbridled. Jack saw it in the green eyes, and his blood began to run hot. A deep passion lay within the two young men. In the early days when they first began to get to know one another in a college freshman class, they discovered their raw mutual attraction. It grew week after week, and it sometimes caused a bit of embarrassment for them. By the time they decided to give into their desires and wants, it became a third member of their relationship. Both seemed stunned by the affect each imposed on the other. In contrast, everyone immediately recognized the pull between them. However, no one ever quite saw the look they gave one another in private moments.

"I have something for you," Jack said in a voice that trembled a bit.

Hick raised his eyebrows in question. His boyfriend then padded across the worn area rug, around the marred coffee table littered with notebooks, and stood before Hick. Hick's grin became more devilish. In response, Jack handed him the camera. Hick's expression turned to one of surprise, especially when Jack retreated back to his starting position in the middle of the living room. Although his cheeks glowed scarlet, Jack felt his mouth stretch into a smirk.

"Mister Freis, why do I think you're about to, ah, give me… the vapors?" Hick questioned, but his voice betrayed his real interest.

Jack threw his head back and laughed. In his mind he began to hear a song. George Ezra's 'Budapest' rang between his ears where only he could hear it. After listening for a few seconds, he began to hum in a slightly off-key manner. Then, Jack let his body take part. His shoulders and hips began to keep counter-tempo with one another. Bit by bit arms and legs joined in. Although not the best dancer in the world, Jack enjoyed the sense of freedom it provided. His eyes locked with Hick's, who unblinkingly followed every motion. The young man from Maine could, when he allowed himself, move with an unusual grace. His lean body seemed to bend and flow along lines unseen by mortal eyes. Those mortals who could see, and one in particular, loved every second of it.

"Nice," Hick whispered in appreciation.

Blue eyes sparkled. Then Jack upped the ante. His arms crossed one another over his stomach while his hips moved to his internal beat. Nimble fingers found the lower hem of his hooded sweatshirt. In a single move that threatened to tangle his head in the hood, Jack pulled the sweatshirt up and off his torso. When he could see the world again, he first saw Hick's mouth hanging open. Pleased at achieving his first objective, Jack slowly danced toward his boyfriend.

"You are so skinny," Hick breathed out the words, but no insult could be found.

Jack continued to glide around the end of the coffee table as he said: "Your powers of observation are so amazing."

"Jerk."

"Dork."

Jack reached the optimum position, and then placed one knee on either side of Hick's legs. Hick, in response, leaned forward and kissed Jack's sternum. Jack wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's head. A tickling sensation appeared on his breastbone. Jack giggled and squeezed lightly. He felt hot breath on his skin.

"Did you have any other plans for this afternoon?" Jack teasingly inquired.

"Lots, but to hell with that," Hick's muffled voice answered.

Jack released the skull trapped in his arms. He gazed down into the brilliant green eyes that now appeared to smolder. They smiled at one another.

"Did I ever tell you you're the kindest person I know?" Hick questioned him.

"About once a week," he answered. "Did I ever tell you how safe you make me feel?"

"Yesterday."

When words failed Jack, he leaned down and lightly placed his lips against Hick's. Hick responded by pressing his face upward. In the history of kisses it did not rank as the most feral or wanton, yet the emotion it conveyed made it equally as important. Jack lowered further into a crouch until their faces were level, and then the kiss took on real heat. Hick's arms rose and encircled the slender frame. Their heads twisted to the side as they gave into the promise. Silence reigned save for the deep, heavy breathing through noses. Hick untangled his arms and ran his hands down the lean sides in his grasp. A shudder ran through Jack's body. Hick pulled back a little, breaking the kiss, and glanced at his boyfriend.

"Just that weird you-got-me-really-excited shake," Jack explained.

"I got you excited," Hick said with a playful chuckle. "You're the one who got this started!"

"Oh, so you don't…"

"Shut up," Hick said while pulling Jack toward him.

Jack gave into the embrace as he thought of the day when they first decided to start dating. For weeks during their second freshman semester they each tried to find ways to bump into one another since they no longer shared a class. Jack quickly memorized Hick's class schedule and figured out a way to be in the right places at the right times so it appeared more accidental than planned. As a result, he and Hick spent more and more time together. Eventually Hick caught on and finally asked if Jack could possibly be interested in officially dating. They both laughed at his phrasing, and the word yes got repeatedly shared. Jack Freis' heart swelled at the memory, and he smiled both inwardly and outwardly.

At the same moment he started cradling his boyfriend, Hick thought of the phone calls and text messages that raced back and forth between Chicago and Camden following the end of their freshman year. Fortunately, they shared the same cellular network, so it did not cost anything extra to make the long-distance calls. Hick spent many a day and evening wandering around his hometown while he and Jack spoke or texted. Time and again he brought up the idea of getting a dorm room together, but Jack seemed resistant. For nearly a month Hick badgered him since they needed to make a decision before housing enrollment closed. When Hick lost his temper, Jack confessed he feared Hick would find their personal habits too dissimilar and it would mar their relationship. Hick pressed his boyfriend to explain how any personal habit could eclipse their private, intimate moments. He got met with a series of no responses. Although he never sounded entirely convinced at first, Jack finally relented. Hick Haddock smirked upward at his smiling boyfriend.

"I do have one complaint," Hick said more to the memory than at the young man who all but sat in his lap.

"Oh?" Jack whimsically rejoined.

"Do you know how much I hate it when you fold your dirty socks together before throwing them in the hamper?"

"And do you know how much I hate it when either one of us loses a sock?"

They devilishly eyed one another.

"Admit you haven't lost a single one since you started shacking up with me," the half-naked of the two prompted.

Hick waggled his head back and forth in a non-committal manner. As if the answer did not suffice, Jack reached down, grabbed the edges of Hick's shirt, and then roughly pulled it off his boyfriend. Hick's smile took on a lustier and rather lascivious aspect. Jack leaned over and kissed the cleft in between Hick's clavicle and trapezius muscle at the base of his neck. Hick wiggled from the sensation.

"God, is your skin pale. Did you get any sun this past summer?" Jack said in a slow drawl.

Hick gawked at him for a moment and replied: "Um, I seem to recall you were with me most of the summer, and talk about looking like a ghost!"

They snickered. Despite the heat and the cost of running the air conditioner, the two somehow managed to find numerous reasons to simply stay home during the first summer they lived together. Only their jobs and conspiracies by the few friends who lived in Oberlin forced them out. Ruby Thornton exclaimed they acted like honeymooners, and that joke quickly spread through what remained of their community during the summer break. What the two young men discovered over the course of living together in the dorm room the previous year surprised them. Each tended to be on the quiet side when alone. Neither took it as a negative sign. Often they would just lean against one another on the couch or in bed while pursuing their individual activities. The simple presence of the other brought comfort to both.

"Want to hit the pool tomorrow?" The green-eyed young man asked as his giggling subsided.

"Still trying to get me into that Speedo again, huh?" Jack retorted.

"Always, and you do look pretty hot in it," Hick answered, thought for a moment, and added: "You look like an arrow going through the water. That suit is like a second skin on you."

"Please don't remind me!"

Hick snickered.

"And promise me you'll wear something appropriate instead of those stupid board shorts. You've got those dark gray swimming trunks with that little red skull on the side," Jack half-demanded and half-said. "Take about hot!"

"Oh, so you want a repeat of what happened back in August?" His boyfriend said with a noticeable lack of humor.

"Come on, Hick! That was pretty damn funny!"

"It wasn't funny: it was embarrassing!"

Jack agreed on the drive home from Cedar Point on the day in question he would never mention the event. They went to the amusement park on money Jack received for his birthday from his mother who nagged him to come home for a few weeks. They went to Sandusky instead with a group of others to meet friends who worked at the park during the summer break. Since the Cedar Point amusement park more or less resided in Lake Erie, they decided to also visit the Soak City Water Park. There Hick tried out his new suit. There he found staring at Jack in his white racer-style swimming briefs caused strong effects within him. There Hick discovered his new swimming suit not only failed to hide an erection as his old board shorts could, but also tended to make it more readily apparent. The story became the first told when the new school year started despite Jack keeping his word to never mention it again.

"Did you ever wonder why I didn't come out of the water while you tried to find your towel?" Jack asked, and barely stifled the laughter wanting to rip out of him.

"Because you're heartless and cruel!" Hick accused.

The thinner of the two lowered his head next to the ear partially obscured by the rust-red hair and said: "No, because I was in the same condition... and my head kept popping up over the waistband."

When he leaned back to see the reaction, Jack saw multiple ones. He waited.

"Oh, you are so dead," Hick hissed after a few seconds.

"Why?" His boyfriend asked in a bit of panic at the tone.

"'Cause that image, that... sight would've... would've... oh, man, you are so wearing that damn thing today!"

Hick then wiggled his hips, and what Jack felt informed him of exactly how much teasing took place.

"So we're not going to the movies tonight?" Jack inquired in a voice suddenly gone husky.

"You are such an idiot!"

Hick wrapped his arms around Jack's slim body, hugged it tight, and then rolled both of them to the side. Once settled, they each scanned the face before him. Blue eyes met green as hair red and white waved above. Grin and smirk then began to mingle. In north central Ohio, Illinois found Maine. Camden and Chicago merged together. Hick and Jack seemed to dissolve into each other as their love found expression.