More Than Forever, page 23
“Are you okay?” Pascal asks. He sounds more serious than he usually does, so Jack answers him seriously.
“No.”
“What happened?” Pascal doesn’t touch him, because he never does. The lack of touch reminds Jack so much of how it feels to be held by Nick. To feel like he can be embraced and nothing bad is going to happen. He chokes a little, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.
“No one wants me,” he says, because he can’t answer Pascal. There isn’t a part of his body that doesn’t ache.
“Nick does. I do.”
“I see Nick once a year, and you have your own life.” He doesn’t look at Pascal. He buries his face into his knees and tries to ignore the tightness in his chest, the way everything seems to spin. “I thought it was fine, seeing Nick once a year. I thought I was okay with it. But human contact once a year isn’t enough.”
Jack can feel Pascal staring at him with his dark eyes. He imagines this is how people feel when he looks at them. Like they better not move. He tries to take deep breaths past the lump in his throat. Nick loves him. He should be happy. They should be celebrating. He shouldn’t be curled up in a ball on the sofa with his best and most annoying friend.
“What if you could be human?” Pascal says, just when Jack is getting used to the silent staring.
Jack groans. “I don’t want to do this, Pascal. Imagining what my life could be like isn’t going to make me feel any better.”
“No, I mean, what if I told you there was a way you could be just a Regular Immortal?”
Jack lifts his head and scowls. “What?”
“No flying. No frost.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I think I need to tell you who I am. Who I was.”
“I’m really not in the mood for your cryptic dramatics.”
Pascal shakes his head. “No dramatics. I’m about to tell you something that very few people know. It’s… not really spoken about.”
Jack drops his feet onto the floor. “What are you talking about, Pascal?”
Pascal bites his lower lip, before sighing deeply. “I need to tell you about how I stopped being the Easter Bunny.”
It sounds ridiculous, and so Jack laughs. A bitter, short laugh. It isn’t funny and it isn’t fair for Pascal to suggest that Jack could stop being Jack Frost. He expects Pascal to smile at him. To tell him that it’s a joke. But he doesn’t. He waits for Jack to stop laughing, and something in Jack’s stomach sinks. It isn’t a joke. Pascal isn’t joking. The realisation is fuzzy in his mind. He shakes his head and glares at Pascal. “What?”
And then Pascal tells him a secret.
NICK
Nick has been sat on the sofa, staring into space with a ridiculous grin since Jack left. It isn’t the most productive thing he could be doing, but Jack’s words are running through his mind. Jack loves him, which is lucky because he loves Jack. Totally and completely. It probably wasn’t the most romantic way to tell him, but Jack was there, he’d come to the North Pole, in the most thoughtless, beautiful way possible, and Nick couldn’t help it. And Jack had said it back, and so nick is taking a moment to bask in the glow of that knowledge.
“So, that was Jack?” Felicity says as she walks into their living room. Nick turns to look at her, his grin dropping. He was a twat to her. She flops onto the other end of the sofa, not touching him but not too far away either.
“Yeah,” Nick says, watching her.
“I can see why you like him.” Felicity’s mouth twitches at the corner. “He’s very naked.”
Nick chuckles. There’s a tense silence, and Nick can’t stand it. Things are never tense with them. He sighs, leaning closer to her. “Look, Felicity, I need to apologise.”
“Yeah, you do.” She watches him, one eyebrow raised.
Nick coughs. “I was a dick.”
“You were.”
“There’s no excuse.”
“There’s not.”
Nick coughs again, scratching at his beard. “But if there was, it would be that I have no idea what I’m doing here.”
“Being Santa, apparently.” Felicity’s voice drips with disdain and Nick can’t help but wince. She leans back in the chair and Nick stomach churns. He hates making Felicity angry or sad, or hurt. But he did. Felicity raises an eyebrow. “This is a shit apology.”
“Fuck. It is. I’m sorry. Again.” Nick flops back against the sofa. Felicity watches him for a moment, and he forces himself still. He’s being watched, and he’s used to that now. He knows what to do if someone is watching him. So he sits, and waits, and hopes like fuck that Felicity will accept his shit apology and not hate him forever.
“I do like who I am,” she says finally.
Nick smiles sadly at her. “I like who you are too.”
“Being Mrs Claus is not who I am.” Felicity levels him with a pointed look.
“Not even a little bit,” Nick agrees. There’s a soft pause, and Felicity moves slightly closer on the sofa, tucking her feet under Nick’s thigh and wiggling her toes.
“And being Jack Frost isn’t who Jack is,” she says.
Nick thinks about it, before replying. “Not really, no.” There’s lots about being Jack Frost that helps to shape jack, but Jack Frost isn’t the entirety of him. It’s not who he is. It’s just… a name that other people put on him. One that he’s maybe grown out of.
“But that doesn’t apply to you?” Felicity whispers. The words make Nick feel sick, his throat tightening at the thought. He looks away, focusing on his fingers, on the fire, the rug. On anything that isn’t Felicity’s knowing looks and the horrible, horrible thought of not knowing who he is.
“I don’t know that it can,” he says eventually.
“Why not?”
Nick swallows with a dry clack. “I don’t… know how to not be Santa.”
There’s a pause again, and when he finally glances at Felicity, she’s looking at him with something that could be pity, but is maybe just a bone-deep sadness.
“Hmm. I’m sure you’ll figure it out, if you need to,” she says, leaning forward and giving his arm a squeeze.
Nick isn’t sure why he would need to, but he doesn’t press it. He wants to move on, and forget this conversation. “Is this you accepting my apology?”
“Have you finished apologising?” she asks, finally smiling at him.
Nick laughs. “What more do you want?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Well, let me know when you figure it out.”
“I will.” Felicity shrugs, humming happily as she leans into Nick, resting her forehead on his shoulder. Nick shuffles so he can wrap his arm around her in the worlds most uncomfortable hug. Felicity presses her head into his armpit and he chuckles.
“Wanna watch me try to make dinner?” he asks after a moment. Felicity laughs, nodding, and Nick gives her one last squeeze, focusing on the relief of having his best friend, and ignoring the unease sitting, heavy, in his chest.
Jack is waiting for him outside his house when Nick lands. Nick smiles as he jumps from the sleigh, his boots thudding as they hit the ground. He can’t help the broad grin that splits his face. The last time he saw Jack… he shakes his head. He doesn’t want to think about the desperate look on Jack’s face as he stood in the hallway of the North Pole, the harsh tension that lined his eyes as he tried not to faint from the pain of being where he shouldn't. Nick wraps his arms around Jack, bringing him close, taking a deep breath just to smell the freshness of him. Jack leans into him, the weight so solid and so alive that Nick could cry.
He’s absolutely in love, and deliriously happy.
Until he pulls back to kiss Jack and notices the grimace.
“Are you okay?” he says. Jack nods, then shakes his head. It feels wrong, this uncharacteristic insecurity. Jack looks at him, head tilted to the side, and Nick knows that movement. Jack is thinking, and Nick is suddenly nervous.
“I need to talk to you about something,” Jack says.
“Something serious?”
“Yes.”
Nick nods, but doesn’t let go. He doesn’t want to. There’s something about the way Jack is talking, the way he’s looking, that is making Nick feel sick. Something that tells him that there’s something wrong, something beyond Jack overheating. Jack will tell him if he gets too hot. Jack will tell him if he’s uncomfortable. He knows. He trusts Jack. He does. The twisting in his chest doesn’t go away.
He bends forward, pressing a soft kiss to Jack’s mouth because, after the months he’s had without Jack, he isn’t sure he’s ready for a serious conversation without one more kiss. Jack is still next to him. He’s not squirming to get away, and Nick can only hope that means they’re still alright. That Jack isn’t breaking up with him. Isn’t leaving him for someone who can live outside of the North Pole. Jack kisses him back, deepening the kiss, his hands running through Nick’s hair. He kisses Nick like he’s desperate, like he can’t hold back and wouldn’t want to if he could. Nick sighs into him, their tongues running together. Whatever it is that Jack needs to talk about, whatever it is that he says, whatever he wants, Nick will give it to him. The surety of his love sits thick in his stomach, and slows his madly beating heart.
Eventually, Jack pulls back. He’s panting, his eyes dark and his lips softly parted. Nick lets him go, stepping backwards to give him the space to cool down. Jack gestures to the house, and they walk in together. It feels pleasantly domestic, except there is clearly something wrong. Jack leads Nick to the sofa, and the heaviness in Nick’s stomach doesn’t go away, even when Jack sits next to him, close enough to touch.
“Have you ever spoken to Pascal about his past?” Jack says.
Nick frowns in confusion. “No? I haven’t really spoken to Pascal about much, to be honest. Pascal talks to me.”
Jack nods. “Do you remember Ben Ogie?”
“Yeah…” Nick watches Jack, waiting for him. Waiting, like he always will, because Jack is part of him and part of his life in a way that nothing has ever been before.
“I used to think Ben didn’t like me, but I think actually he might just be wary of me. Because me and him are sort of the same.”
“In what way?”
Jack doesn’t say anything for a while, and Nick drinks in the sight of him. He has a horrible feeling that this might be the last time he can really stare at Jack like this. He looks so sad, and Nick can’t figure out why. His head is spinning, his heart pounding as he waits for Jack to continue.
“Pascal told me something, and he seems to think it should be a secret, but he’s told me I can tell you.”
“Alright.”
Jack takes a deep breath. Nick bites the inside of his cheek. When Jack looks at him, his eyes are shiny.
“Pascal was the Easter Bunny,” Jack says.
“Huh?” Of all the things Nick expected, that was probably the last. His head is spinning slightly as he tries to think about all the times he’s spent with Pascal. And then the pieces start to slot into place. The scarves, the little twitch of his nose, the deep darkness of his eyes. His general happiness and the way he just knew how to get into Nick’s time-freeze.
“Well, fuck,” Nick says, leaning back into the sofa. “How?”
“He decided he didn’t want to be the Easter Bunny anymore, so he stopped, and then became Pascal. He told me that anyone can do it. Anyone who’s an Occupied Immortal, anyone with a job. Anyone like us.”
“Like us?”
“He said all we need to do is to stop doing the one thing that defines that job. For me, I would have to force the frost not to leak from my body. You’d have to not deliver presents.”
“Not deliver presents?”
“It would be painful.”
“Fucking hell, it would.”
“There would probably be a new Father Christmas the next year.”
“Would there?”
“Enough people still believe in Santa for another one to appear. There probably wouldn’t be another Jack Frost.”
“And you’re okay with that?” Nick can’t believe what he’s hearing. Jack would give up being Jack Frost. He’s asking Nick to give up being Santa.
Jack looks down, his head tilted to the side. “My life as Jack Frost is lonely and cold. Jack Frost isn’t who I am. It isn’t who I want to be.”
“Santa Claus is who I am,” Nick says, his voice a little loud.
“We could be together every day. We could touch for longer than ten minutes.”
All very good points, but Nick shakes his head. “But I’m Santa, Jack. I can’t just stop being Santa.”
“But that’s the point. You can. You can be Nick.”
“I can’t. Jack, I’m not Nick. I can’t be Nick. I’m Santa Claus. I…” He can feel the panic rising in his chest. He can feel the tightening of his throat, the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He doesn’t want to panic. Jack is clearly having a hard enough time thinking about this, and Nick doesn’t want to add to it. He tries to take a deep breath, but finds he can’t. He groans, rubbing his face, trying his hardest to stave off the panic. And then Jack places a soft, cold hand on Nick’s cheek, and it grounds him. It brings him back. He gives Jack a watery smile.
“I don’t want to force you to do anything, Nick.” Jack looks so small on the sofa, curled up in on himself, and Nick can’t do anything but drag him in for a hug. Jack leans into him, nestling into his shoulder. “But I need you to know that you are so much more than Father Christmas. You might not believe it, but I do. And this is a huge thing. Apparently, the best kept secret amongst immortals. I just needed to tell you.”
Nick sighs into Jack’s hair. It is a huge thing. A huge thing that could mean so many fantastic things for them, but Nick doesn’t know if he can give up everything he knows. Everything he is. Because Jack is wrong. He is Santa, and that is the whole of him, and without that he is nothing. He takes a deep, deep breath and gives Jack a squeeze.
“So, who was Ben?”
Jack laughs. “The boogieman! I can’t believe it took me so long to find out. His name is Ben Ogie! Ben Ogie. B, Ogie.”
“It’s so obvious when you think about it.” Nick joins in Jack’s laughter, not feeling any lighter. He feels like everything is about to change, the twisting in his chest, the restlessness in his arms. This is possibly the biggest thing he’s ever found out. Jack could become a Regular Immortal. No frost, no stuck in houses without a roof, no keeping everyone at arm’s length. And Nick… Well, he’s fucking confused. He couldn’t just stop being Father Christmas, Santa Claus, whatever he wants to call it. Nick is Santa. He can’t just stop being who he is.
“We don’t have to make a decision now,” Nick says. Because it is a decision that they will be making together. And he has a horrible feeling that, whatever they decide, something is going to change, and someone is going to be hurt. He just hopes it isn’t Jack.
year fifteen
. . .
JACK
Ben finds Jack moping in his house. He doesn’t bother knocking on the door, and Jack tries to be annoyed by it. But he doesn’t have the energy. He’s too busy. Moping. The living room is filled with empty bottles of alcohol that don’t have an effect on Jack. He’s completely naked, and he doesn’t care if it makes Ben uncomfortable. He’s draped across an armchair with a terrible view of the front door, the TV, and the window, so that he can't see anything. He’s uncomfortable, miserable, and he has no intention of moving. He hasn’t moved in what feels like a week. Ben raises an eyebrow and leans against the door frame. He has very long legs that Jack has never really noticed before. He’s almost as thin as Jack.
Neither of them says anything for a moment. Jack stares at Ben. He’s not going to make the first move. Ben came to him.
“Pascal called,” Ben says eventually.
“Of course, he did.” Jack sighs. He doesn’t move from where he’s slumped on the sofa. “So, what did Pascal say?”
Ben smirks at Jack, thin lips stretching on his face in a slightly sinister way. Jack’s never looked at him like this. “He said ‘Ben, you are the nicest person I know, if anyone can make Jack feel better it’s you’.”
“He didn’t.”
“No, he didn’t. It was more along the lines of ‘go and talk to him’.”
Jack snorts, letting his head hang backwards. “Thanks for the pity conversation. You can leave now.”
“Always a pleasure.”
Ben turns to leave, and guilt twists at Jack’s chest. He was rude, and he’s been trying to not be. Ben came here to help him. To talk to him. Sure, it was under duress, but he could have said ‘no’. He doesn't have to be here.
Jack sits up. “Ben! Wait. I’m sorry,” he shouts.
Ben stops, coming back into the room. He stares at Jack with eyes so dark they look like they go on forever. “An apology. Interesting.”
“It’s the only one you’ll ever hear from me.”
“Of course.” Ben elegantly folds himself onto the sofa next to Jack’s armchair. He looks at Jack for a beat, before taking a deep breath. “What did Nick say?”
Jack looks at his hands, a lump forming in his throat. “He doesn’t want to stop being Santa.”
“Hmm, well, it is one of the nicer jobs.”
“You stopped being the boogieman.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
Ben raises an eyebrow again. “Would you want to be the boogieman?”
“No.”
There’s a thick pause in the room as Jack thinks about it. He would hate to be a boogieman. It’s an important job, he knows, meant to keep children safe. But boogiepeople can be scary. Not them personally, but the stories about them. It sounds awful.
“Why don’t all boogiepeople change?” Jack asks.
Ben shrugs. “They might not know they can? Or maybe they don’t have the same limitations that some of us had? I’m not sure. I haven’t asked them all.”
