Saudade
PART TEN
Everything is different, and yet, at the same time, everything is the same.
Mathias goes back to Denmark. Jett goes back to Australia. There is some 10,000 miles between them, and it's still painfully far, but somehow, compared to before—
—it feels closer than ever before.
And yet, it's almost painfully awkward. Their first conversation, by phone a few days after the world meeting, is half silence and the other half nervous laughter because they just don't know how to talk to each other anymore—and the only things they do know how to talk about are those they'd rather forget.
But it gets easier as the weeks pass, and they spend hours talking about everything and nothing at all, relearning and rediscovering all the little things that so long spent fighting and just living day to day wore away.
And when Jett finally sees Ben again—the day the doctor finally proclaims him healed, takes his crutches, and sends him on his way—he doesn't hit him.
He hugs him, and tells him thank you, and he has never meant anything more.
Ring. Ring. Ri—
"Hallo? Jett?"
"M-Mathias—?"
"Ja, s'me, unless ya thought ya were callin' someone else—Jett, are ya alright? S'three in the mornin' over there—"
"…m'f-fine."
"Y'don' sound it. …was it a nightmare?"
"…m-maybe."
"Yes, then. Tell me 'bout it?"
"S'stupid. Doesn' matter."
"'Course it does. 'Specially if you're callin' me at three a.m…."
"…I c-can go if you're busy—"
"'m not. Please Jett, jus'…talk t'me."
"…the base. Like it always is."
"…"
"An' it's so dark, and everythin's so quiet, but I can hear you, I can hear ya breathin' right next to me, but then it stops—"
"Jett—"
"—an' then 'm alone—"
"Jett. Calm down, please. Jus' breathe. Listen t'my voice. 'm here, 'm not dead, an' neither are you—"
"But I—"
"Sssh. Jus'…sssh. I know it's dark, an' I know 'm not there and ya don' know how much I wish I was, but jus'…calm down, okay? For me. …pretend 'm there, if that helps."
"…well at least 'm used to doin' that…"
"…are ya okay?"
"…not really. Sorry."
"Ya don' need t'apologize."
"Can't exactly stop me."
"…I know."
"…"
"..are ya feelin' better, at least?"
"…I guess. …Imissyou."
"I miss ya too. I…y'know what, fuck it."
"…Mathias?"
"Go t'sleep, Jett. I'll see ya soon, okay?"
"What—"
By the time the knock sounds on his door, Jett is half delirious from lack of sleep, having been too wired and terrified of what might be waiting in his subconscious to drift off again—and yet too irrationally terrified of the seemingly suffocating darkness around him to do more than lie there and stare at the ceiling.
He opens the door and he knows what he looks like, to Mathias—pale, haggard, dark shadows beneath his eyes, only of a depth that speaks clearly of the fact that this is a regular occurrence.
Mathias, to his credit, only steps in, nudging the door shut with his foot, and pulls him close, cradling him with a gentleness that makes all the tension go out of him in a rush.
He's so tired.
But Mathias is warm, and alive, and there, and for the moment, how tired he is doesn't matter in the face of how whole he feels.
And yet, their edges are even more rough, and ragged, and broken, and there are days—
—when he wakes and finds Mathias there and it takes him a moment to remember why he's there—
—when he wakes and reaches for a gun he doesn't have because he shouldn't be here how did I let my guard so low do what you have to do before he wakes up—
—when he wakes, screaming, from another nightmare and it's dark and it's quiet and he's alone—
There are days Jett wonders if they are just too broken to make it again.
"I have waited an' I have been patient—"
"I know—"
"An' I have been there for ya as best I could—"
"I know—"
"An' I know that after all I did I can't really ask anythin' of ya, but—"
"—Mathias—"
"—is it too much t'ask for just for just a fragment of your trust?"
Jett feels helpless beneath the onslaught of Mathias's justified anger—and terrified beyond belief that it's happening again, that he's losing him—
He knows that the rifts between them have been painfully slow in healing, and that it is mostly his fault—
You idiot you absolute idiot of course you are of course he's tired of waiting for you—
Some of that terror must be plain on his face because suddenly Mathias's face softens and he sighs, runs a hand through his hair.
"…'m sorry for raisin' my voice. I jus'…after so long, the fears start t'run away with ya…fears that maybe…"
I'm doing something wrong. I'm making it worse. And you won't tell me because…you're scared of me…
Jett bites his lip. Yells at himself internally. Takes a hesitant step forward. Refuses to look up even as Mathias's eyes lock on him, wary and yet somehow…hopeful.
"No," he whispers. "I'm sorry. It…s'hard…"
To go back, with the minefield of memories in between.
He swallows. He steps forward again.
And this time, when he is close enough to be held, instead, he is the one that holds, pulls him close, and when he sees the same naked vulnerability that he knows oh so well mirrored in those eyes—
—he closes his eyes and shoves the fear into the deep and the dark and he kisses him, soft and slow and—
—not perfect, never perfect, but close enough for them.
There are no promises. There are no expectations.
But as the days go by and Jett finds it easier and easier to laugh, to live, to trust—to forget—
—as the pieces of his heart finally start to fit themselves together again—
—he starts to realize, he doesn't need promises—he doesn't need expectations.
He has just what he needs when Mathias laughs with him, smiles at him, and when he finally, finally finds the courage to say, after so long keeping it inside, "I love you—"
—says, "I love you too," and—
Jett smiles.
He laughs.
He believes.
And—as best he can—
—he forgives, and he forgets.
Original note: …it's over. I'm just gonna…go cry in a corner now this story is my baby and it's over—
Which, again, about sums it up. The few of you who've stuck with this story, thanks for your support and your occasional reviews, they really meant a lot! I hope you enjoyed this, I really do. This be Erin, peacing out on Saudade.