Monday, December 1st 2014

Jack hadn't fully expected a reply when he messaged Paul the week before. He had sent it impulsively after Savannah had nudged him, but the moment he hit send, he'd regretted it. He'd nearly deleted the chat, nearly turned off his phone, nearly convinced himself that Paul wouldn't respond.

But he had.

And now here Jack was, standing outside the café doors, stomach tight with nerves, half-considering turning around and pretending the message had never happened.

This wasn't a date. It wasn't anything. Just coffee. Just catching up. Just... making things less weird.

Paul was already there, tucked into a corner booth, looking up as Jack entered, catching his eye instantly. He smiled—small, easy, but Jack could sense a flicker of nerves behind it. That was reassuring, at least. Jack wasn't the only one feeling like this could maybe be something. He swallowed hard and forced himself to walk over, stopping first at the counter to order himself a mocha.

A few moments later, he sat down across from Paul, who was casually sipping his coffee.

'How are you?' Paul asked, his tone light, like this was just any other conversation.

Jack appreciated that. 'Grand, you?'

They made small talk for a bit—course work, lecturers, housemates—Jack skirted around that last part. Paul was easy to talk to, but they both knew why they were here.

Paul leaned back in his seat, studying him for a second before tilting his head. 'So,' he said, 'you wanna talk about Halloween?'

Jack shrugged. 'Not really. But go on.'

Paul huffed a quiet, forced laugh, then asked, 'What happened?'

Jack shifted in his seat. 'I don't know, Paul. Honestly. I just...' His stomach lurched. 'I don't know.'

Paul's eyes flickered with something Jack couldn't place. 'Was it something I did? I wouldn't have kissed you if I didn't think...'

'I know, I know...' Jack muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

He wished he had an answer—something neat and concise that would make sense of it all. But the truth was, he didn't even understand his own reaction. He knew how it had felt in the moment—good. Too good. And then suddenly, it wasn't. Suddenly, it had been terrifying. He felt his eyes welling up even now, glazing over with tears from the stress of the situation.

Why was this upsetting him so much?

'It's OK, Jack, we don't have to talk about it now-'

Jack let out a deep breath. 'I don't know,' he admitted, barely above a whisper. 'I just...I don't know.'

Paul studied him for a second before nodding slowly, as if piecing something together. Then he asked, carefully, 'Do you want to know?'

Jack hesitated. His first instinct was to say no. To shut this conversation down before it could dig too deep. But something about the way Paul asked it—no pressure, no expectation—made him pause.

He didn't want to run anymore.

'I dunno, maybe,' Jack said finally, the words tasting unfamiliar on his tongue and then his tears began to fall more heavily. Paul moved to his side of the booth and wrapped his arm around Jack, and Jack simply cried into his shoulder.