More than forever, p.12
More Than Forever, page 12
He needs to get to the ice. As cold as he can stand. Somewhere safe, where he can scream into the void. The urge to go home cracks at his heart and he growls. He wants to go home. He needs to go home. A guttural scream rips from his throat, and he urges the reindeer on, whipping the reins. Home. He needs to go home. They race over countries filled with children waiting for their presents, and Nick knows they can wait a little longer tonight. He’ll figure something out. He’ll stretch time a little more, he’ll work a little faster. He’ll figure it out. Later. Not now. Later. After Jack is safe, safe and alive and walking around creating spirals of ice with his touch.
It takes too long, too much time with Jack lying limply in his lap, with wind whipping past them and the reindeer running like they never have before, but eventually they’re near the North Pole. Jack can’t go in, Nick doesn’t think, but they’re close enough that Nick feels safe. He’s home, and Jack is near his home, and nothing bad has ever happened to him when he’s been at home before. He tugs on the reins, and the reindeer land with a thud.
Nick is out of the sleigh before it comes to a full stop.
Jack is still limp in his arms, but his chest is rising and falling gently. Nick sobs, the sound painful in his throat. He drops to the snow, using his bare hands to dig a hole, Jack still pressed to his chest. When it’s a few centimetres deep he lays Jack in it as gently as he can. He doesn’t give himself time to brush the hair from Jack’s face, to stroke along Jack’s jaw, to press his face to the crook between Jack’s neck and shoulder. He desperately wants to, but he needs Jack alive, and he needs to make that happen now. He scrapes at the ice and snow, ignoring the sting of his hands, piling it on top of Jack. Cooling him down. He needs to cool Jack down. He needs to save him.
He can’t live without Jack.
He tastes the tears before he feels them, his cheeks numb from the cold, his arms becoming stiff. He’s never worn so few clothes at the North Pole before. He knows he should put a coat on, put his gloves on, but he doesn’t stop shovelling snow until he can only see Jack’s face, surrounded by the shimmer of ice crystals.
And then he has to wait. The reindeer snuffle behind him, and he gets up to let them loose so they can rest for a bit. His fingers fumble with the reins, his vision blurry as tears spill from them. He hurts—his chest, his head, his arms. His hands are covered in cuts and grazes, harsh red and raw from the digging. He leans against Blitzen, sobbing into her flank. She doesn’t move, her head spinning around to check he’s okay. Vixen saunters over, nuzzling at Nick’s shoulder, and Nick cries out, the pain running through him, making his legs weak. He drops to the ground, rubbing at his face, his mind filled with images of Jack, smiling and talking, eyes closed in bliss, eyebrow raised in derision.
Nick’s heart hurts.
He slumps against the blades of the sleigh, pulling his knees up to his face. He buries his face into his arms, letting himself cry, letting the despair and fear and pain wash over him in rolls. He could lose Jack. He could lose him forever, and it would be his fault for taking him to the heat. He should have said ‘no’. He should have turned back sooner. He should have told Jack how he feels about him.
A soft groan breaks through his wracked moans, and he looks up.
Jack is starting to move, sitting up and rubbing a hand over his head. He looks pale, shimmering in the moonlight, but much less grey than he had. Snow falls from his shoulders, and Nick feels sick with relief. Jack is okay. He didn’t die. He’s here and he’s safe. Nick’s stomach hurts, his mouth filling with the acrid taste of vomit, and he takes a deep, shaky breath.
“Jack?” he says, his voice a croaky whisper.
Jack looks up at him. His eyes are icy grey again, his pupils back to their normal size. He gives Nick a soft smile. “Nick? I’m okay.”
Nick sobs, resting his head back on his knees, tears prickling his eyes and cheek as he cries. His throat is sore, his whole body heavy with tension. He wants to go to Jack, he wants to feel Jack against him, feel his pulse, feel his breath. He’s never wanted to kiss someone as badly as he wants to kiss Jack now. Kiss him and shake him, and make him promise to never leave Nick ever again.
He should be checking Jack is alright, making sure that he’s not in pain, but he can’t move. He wants to sleep forever, curled around Jack to keep him safe. He’s shivering, he knows, but he can’t move. He was so scared. He can’t… he doesn’t… he howls, unable to stop himself.
He's vaguely aware of Jack next to him, the air becoming even cooler, and then his coat is draped over his shoulders. He looks up. Jack is there, smiling down at him, eyes shining, very much fine and very much alive. Nick wants to take him into his arms, wants to feel Jack pressed against his chest. Wants to feel his heart and his movement and his life pouring from him in frost and ice and cold.
He lets Jack rub his shoulder, follows Jack’s breathing, his eyes on Jack’s mouth. His lips, quirked at the corners. He breathes in, and out, and in, and out. His breathing slows, his cries turning into sniffles, his head fuzzy with pain and sorrow but no longer the roar of intense feeling. Jack’s eyes are on him, not blinking, watching him as he calms down.
“What the fuck was that?” Nick asks between his snuffles.
Jack shakes his head. “I… I didn’t mean… I wasn’t…”
“You nearly died.” Nick chokes, his chest tightening again. Jack settles down in the snow next to Nick, their shoulders nearly touching. Nick wants to gather Jack to him, so he holds onto his knees. If he touches Jack now, he’ll never let him go.
“I’m sorry,” Jack mutters. Nick feels the tears, stinging in the corners of his eyes.
“What did you even think you were doing?”
“I just… nothing.”
“No! It wasn’t nothing. I saw you. What happened?” Confusion twists in Nick’s chest with all the pain, and he can’t breathe with it. Jack was so wild, like a caged animal. Nick should have supported him, he shouldn’t have taken him somewhere warm, but Jack was so lost in his need, and Nick wanted to give that to him. He wants to give Jack everything.
“I wanted to feel the heat,” Jack says. He’s not looking at Nick now. Nick coughs, rubbing his hands over his face, spreading tears over his skin.
“Why?”
“No reason.”
“There must be a reason! Why? Why would you do that?”
Jack shrugs. “I was at a party.”
It makes no sense. Nick shakes his head. “Right. Well, that still makes no fucking sense. I know you hate parties, but you’ve never needed heat after one before.”
“I just… there was someone there.” Jack stands up, walking away and fiddling with the corner of the sleigh.
Something unpleasant mixes with all the other unpleasant feelings swirling in Nick’s chest, and he stands up, slipping his arms into his coat. He moves to stand in front of Jack, looking at him, willing Jack to talk to him. “Who? What did they say?” he asks. He has no idea what he’ll do with the information, but he needs to know who made Jack feel like walking head first into a dangerous situation. Jack shakes his head, not looking at Nick, and Nick can’t take it anymore. He grabs Jack’s chin, tilting his head so that he can see Jack’s face, so that they can look into each other’s eyes. So that he can see the movement of Jack’s face and know that he’s alive. “Who was it, Jack?”
Jack chokes. “Dorian Gray!”
Fuck. Nick blinks at Jack, his fingers still tight on Jack’s jaw. If they weren’t already at that weird point between numb and bitingly painful, the frost spreading and then melting on them would hurt. But it doesn’t. What hurts is the look of betrayal in Jack’s eyes, and a fresh wave of nausea rolls through Nick. He wants to shake his head, to explain, to tell Jack that it was nothing. That it meant nothing. That Dorian is nothing compared to Jack.
“Shit,” Nick says instead.
Jack pulls his chin out of Nick’s grasp, but doesn’t move away, doesn’t stop looking at Nick with those intense, piercing eyes. “Yeah. He said… you never told me you knew him. You said you have three friends.”
Nick shakes his head. “Dorian isn’t my friend.”
“It sounds like you were very friendly.”
“We fucked, Jack. We didn’t talk. He isn’t my friend.”
“I just wanted to see what you look like in the heat,” Jack says, his voice rough. Nick scowls. It makes no sense. Nick looks the same in the heat as he does in the cold, except he wears fewer clothes. That is the only difference. It makes no sense, and Nick is bone-tired, his body is heavy and his mind feels stuffed with cotton wool. He doesn’t have the energy to figure out what Jack means.
“Why?” he says.
Jack growls, throwing his arms up, waves of cold air brushing over Nick’s face. “Because I can’t! Because you’re beautiful! Because you like the heat and I can never, ever see that!”
Nick pauses. He does like the heat. Most people do, and he lives in the North Pole. He’s always fucking cold. It’s nice to have a bit of a change every so often. But that means nothing. It definitely doesn’t mean that Jack should drag himself into danger just so he can see Nick with his shirt off. He’s very welcome to see Nick with his shirt off at any moment, he just needs to give any sort of indication that he wants to. Nick wants to shake him. Wants to hold him and show him exactly how little Jack needs to do to see Nick stripped bare. To show Jack that he already has.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he says. “I am fucking Santa Claus. I deliver presents in the human world at night. You think I don’t want to see what you look like with the sun on your face, with your skin shining in the light, with your body stretched out where I can see it all, properly? But I can’t. I don’t get to see you in the sun, and you don’t see me breaking curfew and potentially destroying myself because of it.”
“But you could!”
“What?”
“You used to leave for Dorian! You used to go to him for a whole day. You could see me, and you don’t!”
“I was reckless, and it broke me, and I could lose it all Jack. If I spent time with you, I could lose it all.” He can’t explain it more to Jack. He can’t tell him that Jack is already more than Dorian ever was. Jack throws his arms up.
“I just needed—”
“Well, I need you alive!” Nick screams, because need and want and raw desire mix with his exhaustion and he just wants to scream, so he does. Jack freezes, staring at him, and a fresh wave of despair and hurt and fear runs through him. His heart hurts. “You nearly died.”
There’s a pause, the air thick with all the things they’ve said, and all the things they mean.
“Nick. I’m here. Look, I’m alive. I’m here,” Jack says, coming closer, his face inches away from Nick’s. His eyes are shining, his lips parted slightly, and Nick can’t bear it. He presses forward, needing to feel Jack against him, needing to feel the life in his body. Jack squeaks as their lips collide, and Nick moans, wrapping his arms around Jack and pulling him close, pressing their bodies flush together. Jack’s lips move against his, and Nick is crying into the kiss. Jack tastes like fresh, cool, water on a summer day, like salt from Nick’s tears, like relief and home and life. His hands move up to run through Jack’s hair, to brush against his neck, his thumb resting lightly on Jack’s pulse. He can feel it, ticking under the slight pressure, and Nick groans.
Jack is so alive, and so here, and it’s all Nick needs.
Jack’s hands are on his hips, pulling him closer, and Nick needs that too. He can feel Jack’s breath on his cheek, his nose pressing into Nick’s cheek. His skin is so smooth, so cool. So dry. It’s wonderful, and Nick feels a deep heat in his chest, and a flush of cold where Jack is squashed against him, the frost leaking into his clothes and melting against his skin. The cold, the heat, mixing together and sending shivers down Nick’s spine. He presses closer, deepening the kiss and this time he feels Jack moan, his tongue sliding against Nick’s like he wants this as much as Nick does. Which is impossible.
The dampness of Nick’s shirt starts to warm, sticky against Nick’s chest hair and pecs, moulding to his skin. He sighs, his heart calming as he kisses Jack. As Jack kisses him. As they kiss in the snow, bodies pressed together. Warm bodies pressed together, Jack’s skin heating under Nick’s touch. Heating.
It's like being shoved into ice water. Nick pulls away, taking a large step back as fear rips through him. Jack can’t be hot, Nick has just seen that, and now he’s doing it again. Jack looks somewhat stunned, his mouth still open, his skin flushed a strange icy pink colour, his hair wild around him. He looks gorgeous, and he looks alive, and Nick nearly… no. He can’t do that again. He can’t. He turns, calling to the reindeer. They’re lined up before Jack seems to realise what’s happening.
“Nick?”
Nick ignores him, his heart hammering in his chest. The kiss had been everything, but he got carried away and he could have hurt Jack. He never wants to hurt Jack. Jack follows him as he moves around the reindeer, trying to get his attention, but Nick is moving fast, his fingers used to attaching the reindeer to the sleigh. Going through the motions. His head swirls, panic gripping his chest, his legs and arm jittery with it. He could have killed Jack. One kiss, and he could have hurt him. Nick clips the reindeer onto the sleigh in record time, jumping into it without looking at Jack. If he looks at Jack he’ll stay. He’s not strong enough to leave, but he can’t stay. He can’t sink into kisses with Jack when it warms him. When it’s dangerous.
“Nick!” Jack is shouting. Nick shakes his head, flicking his wrists and escaping into the sky.
year nine
. . .
JACK
It is February, and Pascal has taken a special trip to show Jack his new house. Which is nice of him. It’s very nice. Jack has to keep reminding himself, because honestly, he wants to hit something. Or someone. Someone tall and handsome who drives a sleigh and kisses Jack before leaving him deserted in the middle of the bloody tundra!
Admittedly, Jack probably scared Nick, with the whole fainting thing, but honestly! Nick acted like it was the worst thing Jack could possibly ever do. When really all he asked was to be taken somewhere that was a little uncomfortable. He didn't die. It was fine.
And he felt the heat. It was wonderful. Until the end.
Jack sucks in a deep breath, grinding his teeth, and turning back to Pascal. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his shorts. He hates wearing clothes. He hates standing in the snow. He hates having a house that Pascal had to buy for him.
But mostly he hates that Nick kissed him, that Nick gave Jack the most amazing experience of his life, and then left him for absolutely no bloody reason!
Jack and Pascal trudge up the snow-covered slope to get to the house. It’s in the middle of nowhere, about ten miles from the nearest town. There’s phone reception, electricity, and internet, thanks to the immortal Pascal knows. For all intents and purposes, it’s a normal house. Except it doesn’t have a roof. Or windows.
It’s a similar setup to his other house, the rocks outside hiding a key, the front door looking a little dishevelled, except for the very new lock. It’s not a big place, smaller than the one in England, but it’s got the same sign outside, except not in English. And it looks dangerous, like it could fall down. Jack knows it won’t, but there’s something about buildings not having roofs that make them look flimsy. Pascal gives Jack the key with a smile.
“What do you think?” Pascal says as they walk inside. He’s clearly been busy. The hallway is filled with crap that makes it look like a home. A shoe rack with shoes. Which Jack guesses will come in handy when Pascal comes to visit and Jack has to wear clothes. A coat rack with a coat, for similar reasons. A table with a bowl, where Jack puts his key. There’s a door off to the side, and Jack peers through it. It’s one room: a small kitchen area at the back, and two sofas near the front. The windows don’t have glass in them, but there are wooden planks with lots of gaps and holes. Just in case, Jack guesses. A small lamp sits on a side table, and there’s an old TV in the corner. A laptop sits on a coffee table.
It's everything Jack needs.
“There’s a bed upstairs,” Pascal says.
Jack nods, following Pascal up the stairs. He doesn’t want to see the bed. He knows what happens in beds, and he knows what he felt against him when Nick was kissing him, and he knows that even if he desperately wants it, he can’t have it. Not because of the heat. He’s now pretty sure he’d be okay with that. But because Nick left, and Jack has no idea whether they’re supposed to meet up this year. Nick clearly doesn’t want him. Clearly thinks it was a terrible idea to kiss Jack. Clearly thinks leaving without saying anything is an acceptable thing to do after kissing someone the way Nick kissed Jack.
Well, fuck him. Jack is used to being left behind.
“So?” Pascal says. He has even more scarves on today. Jack shrugs. It’s a big bed. Lots of space for him to stretch out and stare at the sky above him. If it rains, everything will get wet, and it won’t bother Jack at all. It’s not like he’ll have anyone else in bed that will be bothered by the rain. All the people he wants in his bed are running away to the North Pole.
Pascal looks at him expectantly.
Jack sighs, shrugging and shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “It’s a house.”
Pascal looks at him curiously. His nose twitches slightly. Jack stares back at him. Sure, it’s nice of Pascal to help him buy this house. Sure, he’s being perfectly pleasant. Sure, he didn’t actually do anything wrong. But he’s here, and Jack wants to snap at someone.
