#thread. jack.

𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅, 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐃 & 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑, even without charles there to bear witness. one hand grasped the sleek black cell to their ear, whilst the other toyed with a curl of hair and wound it idly 'round their finger. ❛ and do all the work myself? darling, who do you take me for? ❜ practically purred into the receiver as he flopped down upon the luxurious velvet chaise by the penthouse window. they draped across it, long and languid, the very picture of a fainting victorian woman captured on canvas.

❛ listen, i know you're busy fucking flint through his midlife crisis. well done, et cetera, ❜ they drawled with the sort of petulance a child might harbour upon being told no one too many times. ❛ but i ❜ i miss you. the words almost leapt from his tongue of their own volition, so eager for charles to know the truth of them. to know that his absence was not lost on the god of love. indeed, it was felt so keenly that jack lied awake at night, gnawed apart by the unknown. by the idea that charles might forsake him for all eternity.

the line was silent a moment as they worried their bottom lip betwixt their teeth and rerouted. ❛ i have all these leftovers from that thai place down the street, you know the one. ❜ of course he would. they'd had a date there when the place first opened, run by a sweet couple, elderly by now. jack had left a rather staggering tip : always keen to support a struggling mortal couple, down on their luck. ❛ we're still friends, yes? come over, chaz. have some food, watch a movie with me, tell me about your day. honestly, it's not that complicated. ❜

𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐃𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄, climbing all the way up to the penthouse suite. the irony was not lost on him, that the underworld's crown king should reside so close to the heavens, amidst the city of angels. a cheerful little ding ! announced their arrival, so at odds with their expression. the incessant little mortal trailed after him out the doors and all the way down the hall, rushing to match the god's strides and open the double doors to ned's penthouse suite with a cursory knock.

low, breathy laughter filtered out from the room before he'd so much as set foot inside. ❛ a mister erm, rackham? to see you, sir. ❜ jack rolled their eyes and turned with a flourish to shoo him back the way they'd came. ❛ yes, yes, very good. he has eyes, you know. now, kindly piss off. ❜ he whirled back 'round and was undeterred by the sight in front of him : ned lounging back upon the plush leather sectional, his newest means of midlife crisis nestled squarely within his lap. the spring god was draped languid against him, one arm about the other's shoulders, fingers making a mess of short silver strands. their legs were slung to one side, knees parted. an already cropped shirt rode higher up the lithe, tanned plane of his abdomen as he twisted to regard the god of love. ❛ hi jack. ❜

❛ hello edward, darling, you're looking ravishing as ever. i'll tell my brother you say hi. ❜ a brief exchange, for the sake of politeness, ere they fixed a pointed glare upon the dead king. well, more the king of riches he looked here, surrounded by expensive playthings ; the godling included.

hands perched at his hips, jack looked ever the chiding mistress. ❛ and you i hope you're pleased with yourself, for all the trouble your messy little divorce is costing me ! your ex husband is out there as we speak, fucking my god of war. ❜ my love. my charles. the thoughts jumped to the forefront of their mind, unbidden. jaw tensed, lips pursed, jack seethed. ❛ do you know what charles said to me? that we could be friends. friends ! when have we ever been friends? ❜ a vague, increasingly dramatic wave of his hand at their display, at ned and the young god in his lap currently nipping at the shell of his ear. ❛ this is your fault, i hope you know. ❜

it wasn't. it was their own. their carefree ( and careless ) spirit, and a crippling amount of commitment issues.

𝐆𝐎𝐃, 𝐈𝐅 𝐔𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄, 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓. the veritable cherry atop the heap of shit that was his week. perhaps there was some poetic justice or irony to the situation which would prompt a smirk, days from now, when they were long since removed from it. but here and now ? he was well and truly FOCUSED on his captain's stare, and his own, immovable limbs.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃. 𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐖𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐒𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓. hung and likely jeered at by the same men who had sworn oaths alongside him to protect the same things. to abide by the same principles. principles so easily abandoned, allies so eagerly betrayed when it suited them. jack hated them all. he would see every last one of those men answer for their crimes in the same fashion. then and only then would he turn his attention to her.

the woman who had taken everything from charles. the woman who had taken everything from himself in turn. the pardon, the chest of pearls, the whole fucking island : they would trade it all for the return of charles vane. but alas, money and favours could only buy so much. some things stretched beyond the bounds of currency, or a witty tongue. but very little lay beyond the bounds of violence. oh, they would unleash such TERRIBLE VIOLENCE upon her. upon that whole book of traitors. upon woodes rogers and the navy and england herself. they would feel his loss, and they would know loss too.

charles vane was dead. and his ghost was standing before him.

jack stood frozen. unblinking, unmoving, simply staring into the face of the man they loved, and wondering when it would fade away. when grief's morbid hallucination would leave him in peace. the bruises at charles' neck, a deep hue of purples and blues from the noose's grip. god, how he wished to press gentle kisses against them. to watch them HEAL to brown, to yellow, to fade entirely and be lost with time. time that they could spend together. months, years, a lifetime.

they had seen their brother's ship on the horizon no, his brother's lover. blackbeard. had seen his ship, had watched it approach and been prepared for the conversations that would surely await. the pity, the sorrow, the condolences. what he had not been prepared for was charles standing upon her deck as they dropped anchor alongside one another. for only a gangway to separate them from what they had lost.

it couldn't be real. he simply couldn't believe it. if not for the news otherwise, if not for the unlikeliness of it ... then for the fact that to submit to hope and have it be dashed once again was too PAINFUL a notion. and still he walked. feet carried them forward across the gangway of their own volition and with no permission from himself. closing the distance, bringing him closer to that ghost. their eyes clouded ; drops of moisture fell from their jaw. when had he started crying?

he stopped just short of charles, of this spectre sent to torment them. eyes wide and wet, mouth agape. it couldn't be. it couldn't. ❛ i'm scared to touch you, chaz ... what if i reach out, and you disappear all over again? ❜

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐎𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒, 𝐇𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐄. things were different now. he was a captain by his own right, no longer bound to the other's whims and fancies, but free to be who he pleased. free to make company with anyone they so desired ... and yet, here they stood once again, drawn into the enigma of charles vane like tides to the shoreline. unable to keep their distance.

the two of them had reached the doorway, swaying from drink but not CLOUDED by it. jack's room lay beyond, cold and empty without anne's once steadfast presence there to join him. no, they would be climbing into the sheets alone this evening. a needling voice in the back of their head reminded them : you were second fiddle to miss guthrie, and now precisely the same is true to max. who could ever choose you?

❛ come now, charles, don't be ridiculous. ❜ by some miracle, he kept his voice even. neutral. almost lilting, as if the thought didn't light a SPARK deep betwixt their ribs. something desperate churned within the pit of his gut. ❛ we're in a whore house, surely you can find some adoring young lass to fawn over you this evening. not at all sure what you'd need me for. ❜