The World is Wide

Yeah, here's the thing; when people worry about you, it makes me think that I should be worried about you, and I don't like worrying about things.

kitty kisses will cure his depression ❤️

“Please leave a message at the tone.” Beep.

“Hey, Jack.” Robby coughs. He didn’t plan what he would say if he didn’t answer; didn’t even plan what he’d say if he did. “I, uh, I don’t know. I’m at… I don’t know. Some place in upstate New York.” He kicks at the ground. Loose dirt tumbles over the edge of the cliff. “Nice views. Mountains and whatever.”

He sighs. “I’m fucking exhausted. Don’t feel like you need to call me back or anything. Can’t guarantee I’ll answer. Anyway, um, bye.”

Robby ends the call with a groan and kneads the kink in his neck. Though he loathes to admit it, everyone was right; starting his ride after a long shift was a bad idea. His bike is parked outside a last-minute room he booked at some shoddy motel with an unsuspectingly good view. Though maybe this is what it’s like outside of a city. Without traffic and apartments to block the horizon, the world grows.

Robby crawls under the scratchy covers of the motel bed and lets the day catch up to him. Within seconds, he falls into a dreamless sleep.

He wakes hours later when the sun is high in the sky, streaming yellow beams into his room. His body aches from the lumpy mattress, and humid air is winning the fight against the crappy air conditioning. The thought of sitting on a leather seat that’s been baking in the sun all morning and riding in a thick jacket is wildly unappealing. Not even a full day in, and he’s already regretting this trip.

He gets dressed and heads outside. Next to his bike is a familiar black truck. Strange.

Muffled shouting breaks through the walls of the main building as Robby approaches to return his key. A deep frown etches itself on his face; that voice can’t belong to whom he thinks it does.

“Please! Please! Ma’am,” the voice says. “I’m not some creep, or a crazy person, but I really, really need to know. If you could please—“

“Sir,” the receptionist says calmly. “I’ve already told you; I can’t give out guest information.”

“You don’t have to tell me the room. Just tell me if he checked in here. I know that’s his bike outside—“

Robby is close enough now to see through the window; he’d know that stance anywhere. “Jack?”

Jack whips around just as Robby steps through the door. Quick as lightning, he latches his arms around Robby’s shoulders. “Fuck, Mike. Oh my God, you scared the shit out of me.”

“I— what’re you doing here?”

“You left me that fucking voicemail. I thought…” he shakes his head, and hides himself in Robby’s neck.

Robby tentatively wraps his arms around Jack’s middle. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the receptionist take the opportunity to leave. “You drove all this way because of a voicemail?”

“Was barely six hours,” Jack mutters. His lips brush against Robby’s skin.

Robby checks his watch. 10:30am. “You only got off work three hours ago?”

Jack takes a step back, but keeps a firm hand on the back of Robby’s neck to balance himself. “Shen said he was good on his own, so I left early.”

“Why?”

“I called you back, and you didn’t answer.” Jack’s chin wobbles.

“I was asleep,” Robby laughs shallowly. “It’d been a long day.”

“You said you wouldn’t answer.” The wrinkles around Jack’s eyes contort with the scrunch of his nose as he holds back tears. “I couldn’t risk it.”

“I just meant because I might be on the road.”

“Don’t,” Jack says sharply, “act like I’m overreacting. You know why I was scared.”

Robby’s shoulders slump. “You must be tired. I still have a room.”

Jack nods. “Then we’ll go home.”

“Okay.”

“Really?”

Robby considers the dread that filled him at the thought of riding further out this morning. “Yeah. Really.”

Jack nods, eyes locked on Robby’s like he’s looking for the rug that could be pulled from under him. When he decides to trust the answer he’s been given, he wraps an arm over Robby’s shoulders and leans his weight on him.

“Leg bothering you?”

“I’ve had a long day too.”

“Don’t doubt it.” He happily takes Jack’s bulk and guides him back toward the room. “How’d you find me?”

“I’ll always find you.”

A laugh breaks through him. “How romantic.”

“I have my moments.” For the first time all morning, Jack smiles. “And I hid an AirTag on your bike.”

Robby sucks in a breath and digs his fingers deeper into Jack’s waist. “I’m going to let that slide for now.”

“You should be grateful I did it.”

Robby, don't go where I can't follow.

“S’cause you’re so pretty.”

Robby flushes. “Man, shut up.”

“No. S’true,” Jack slurs. He sways back and forth in Robby’s hold. “Tha’s why er’yone likes you.”

“There are plenty of people who don’t like me,” Robby argues. He tightens his grip on Jack’s bicep, ignoring the pleasant muscle under his palm, and tries to unlock the door while keeping him steady.

“They’re stupid.”

“You’re drunk.”

“You’re pretty.”

Robby’s face grows impossibly hotter. “I am not.” Maybe he used to be, years ago. Decades. When he was young and fresh-faced. When he still believed he could make a real difference and hadn’t let the weight of his life drag down his appearance.

Jack hooks his chin over Robby’s shoulder. “Yeah, ya’re.”

The door opens, and they practically topple inside. “Alright. Let’s get you to bed.”

"Noooo-"

"Yeah," Robby laughs. "You've been talking out of your ass all night; it's time to reset."

He hauls Jack to his guest room and lets him collapse on the bed with a heaving sigh. Robby gets to work detaching the prosthetic while Jack mutters incoherently to himself.

"I can't understand you."

"Is that why you won't date me?" Jack says. It comes out so clear that for a moment, Robby is scared he's somehow sobered up. "Because 'm not pretty like you."

The fear evaporates. Sober Jack would never say something so ridiculous. "You don't want to date me, Jack."

"Yeah'do," he pouts, hands hitting the bedding in frustration. "You always say no, or call me 'brother.'"

"You started the 'brother' thing."

Jack hums unhappily. He clumsily strips himself of his jeans and t-shirt and curls around one of the pillows.

Robby should leave it alone. Jack is clearly tired and, not to mention, beyond inebriated, but he's too nosy for his own good, and the high odds of Jack not remembering a thing from tonight make him brave. "If you want to date, all you have to do is ask. I'll say yes."

Jack glares at him with drunken, glassy eyes. "I do ask. You think I'm being your friend." He groans with the return of a painful memory. "I took you ou'to dinner an' you tried to set me up with some lady a'the bar."

A harsh chill crashes over Robby. He remembers that night extremely vividly. He'd been having too good a time, and when he saw that woman watching Jack, he figured she was the safest option to temper his hopes and bring him back to reality.

"Well..." Jack practically drank the bar dry tonight. He's more likely to pick winning lottery numbers than remember this. "Ask me tomorrow, and I'll say yes."

Jack turns his head away from the pillow just enough to peek at Robby warily. "Really?"

"Really."

"Say swear."

Robby chuffs. He pats Jack's shoulder. "I swear."

Jack moves too quickly for his limbs to catch up and falls to a messy pile on the floor, though he doesn't seem to mind. He's digging in his jean pockets before Robby can ask if he's okay.

"Fine," Jack grumbles. "Need ma phone."

"What for?" Robby tries to lift him back into bed, but Jack pushes him away.

"Hey Siri, set reminder tomorrow mornin'."

"Jack!"

"Ask Robby out." He frowns and clarifies, "Promised to say 'yes.'"

"I've set a reminder for tomorrow--"

"Alright." Robby hauls Jack back onto the bed. "That's enough for tonight."

Jack settles back over the covers with a satisfied smile. "Will you kiss me?"

"Not right now."

"After our date."

Robby's heart thuds against his ribs, and his palms are clammy. He only had two beers, but his body is acting like he's wasted. "Sure."

"Can' wait," Jack murmurs. He's asleep before Robby can take a single step towards the door.

Robby watches him for a bit. His eyes dart to Jack's phone. He knows the password; he could delete the reminder and let Jack wake up hungover and unembarrassed.

Jack lets out a choked snore. Robby grabs his shoulder and rolls him to his side; Jack's limp hand brushes his belt and sends a flood of heat through Robby's abdomen.