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It was funny. Really funny. So funny, in fact, that Davey burst out laughing when it hit him. When he noticed.
He couldn’t say when it happened, because looking back it kind of always had been there, but when he realized it for the first time, it was so funny that he couldn’t help but laugh so hard that he choked on it.
Because Jack had been his best friend since the very first day of kindergarten. When he’d smiled his big, gap-toothed smile and proudly announced that he was Jack, but you could call him Cowboy, and he’d lost his two front teeth on the same day because he’d fallen out of bed and knocked them both out and didn’t you know that jumping out of bed was a good way to do that?
And Jack had been his best friend for so long. So, so long, longer than any other friendship that he’d ever had.
He’d been Jack’s best friend through the worst times, through Jack’s mom dying and his dad struggling so hard to pick up the pieces and through his long journey to accepting his sexuality. He’d been Jack’s best friend through his first girlfriend, his first kiss, his first time. Through his first boyfriend, too, and all the firsts that came with that. Through anxiety attacks and failing grades and barely passing grades that deserved a party for how hard Jack had worked for them. Through crayon scribbles up until portraits so realistic they were almost photographs.
And Jack had been his best friend through all of those things, too. Through his coming out, and his first boyfriend and first kiss and first time, too. Through test anxiety and all nighters and broken hearts.
Jack had been sleeping over the night Les was born, he’d held Les before Davey even had because Davey had been distracted by asking all kinds of questions and the nurse seemed to assume that Jack was part of the family because, well, wasn’t he?
When Davey had gotten accepted into his dream school, Jack was the first person he told. Even before his parents, Jack was the one he thought to text first because he’d known Jack would understand how excited he was and give him the minute to celebrate before worrying about things like finances.
When Jack had first thought about dropping out of college, after two semesters of feeling nothing but bored and frustrated, Davey had been the one he’d called to talk it through with.
So it was funny.
Because Jack had spent his childhood running around Davey’s backyard, drawing the comics to go with Davey’s stories. Davey’s parents had bought wild west themed bandaids to put on Jack’s skinned knees, to go next to the box of Star Trek bandaids for Davey. Jack had built pillow forts in Davey’s living room, climbed trees in the park down the street. Jack had listened to Davey talk through every hyper fixation he’d ever had, and Davey had listened to Jack talk about cowboys and the night sky and art history. They’d fallen asleep on the flat roof outside Jack’s bedroom window after talking until three in the morning.
There weren’t many people who could get Davey to talk that long. To say that much.
Davey had watched Jack paint a million times. Finger painting in kindergarten to watercolor palettes in elementary school to acrylics in middle school. He’d sat in high school study hall, keeping up his end of the conversation in the art room while Jack painted and Davey did his homework.
So it was funny. Hilarious. Just absolutely hysterical.
That watching Jack paint was what brought this about.
Jack and his music.
He’d always liked to paint to music, especially once he started painting on things bigger than single pieces of paper. In high school, it had always been through his big, clunky headphones that might have once been blue but had been so splattered in paint it was hard to tell. Music blasting through them, on one ear and off the other so he could keep talking to Davey.
Davey had seen it a thousand million times, the way Jack painted like he was dancing when he had the freedom to move. He couldn’t sit still, never had been able to, and painting was no exception. It wasn’t peaceful and meditative to him, it was kinetic and electric and all over the place.
When he painted on such a big canvass, he went up on his toes and squatted down to the floor, all the way sideways.
And, now that he had his own apartment, the music was out loud, and Davey could see more than ever that he really was dancing.
But still, Davey had seen it so many times.
And the way Jack laughed, Davey had been watching Jack laugh for years and years and years. The way he titled his head back and laughed with his entire body, how his nose crinkled at the end of it, Davey had noticed and even made fun of those things for what felt like his entire life. Made jokes about how Jack would wrinkle young because of how involved his face was when he talked and laughed.
That was really why it was so funny. Because nothing new was happening. He knew Jack so well, every tic and idiosyncrasy, the funny phrases he used that didn’t quite translate from Spanish but he used them anyway, the funny little way he snorted at the very end of every laugh, the way he put his paintbrush behind his ear without thinking about how the paint would get in his hair to tell a story that required both hands to gesture. Nothing was new about any of those things, nothing was a surprise, because Davey had known Jack for almost twenty years, and you don’t go that long being friends with somebody without getting to know them so incredibly well.
And so when, while Davey was sitting cross legged on Jack’s couch, watching him paint. When the sun was setting outside the window, lighting Jack’s face in that soft orange light that only came at this time of day. When music was playing, some random indie rock band that Davey couldn’t guess the name of but that he heard and thought of Jack because that was Jack’s brand, random indie feel-good music. When Jack was painting something bright and colorful and had streaks of yellow and red and bright blue all over his hands and face and through his hair.
Really, all of those things had happened before. Even exactly like this. All of them at once, happening at the same time. It was anything new.
That’s why it was so funny, you see. Because there was no reason for it. None at all. What about this scenario made him realize? What about this Jack, laughing and painting and telling stories and singing along to his music, what was different? What had changed?
Nothing. Nothing had changed, which meant it had always been true, or at least that it had always had the possibility of being true, and that was just…
It was just hilarious. Just so funny. So funny that he just had to laugh. He had to laugh hysterically, make Jack pause halfway through a lyric and tilt his head curiously and wait.
Because Jack knew Davey just as well as Davey knew Jack, and that meant that he knew that Davey would explain when he was ready.
“What’s so funny, Dave?” He asked when Davey had mostly managed to stop laughing. His nose was crinkled like he was about to start laughing, and he had the oh-so-familiar glint of humor in his eye that Davey knew so well.
“I just…” Davey practically had tears running down his face from how hard he’d laughed. “I’m in love with you, Jack. Isn’t that hilarious?”
It was. Right? Just so, so funny that he could be in love with Jack. Jack his best friend.
Jack who’s been his best friend since they were in kindergarten. Jack who still picked worms up off the pavement to save them from the sun after it rained. Jack who didn’t go anywhere without a sketchbook and pencil. Jack who always listened to what to Davey had to say. Jack who had taken the time and put in the effort to really get to know him better than anyone. Jack who’d always made sure that Davey was included in his friend group, even though Jack had always been more popular while Davey usually preferred to stay in the background. Jack who was always there for Davey.
So wasn’t it funny? Wasn’t it hilarious?
Because he’d just realized it for no reason at all, and Jack had been his best friend for so long, and wasn’t it funny to realize that he actually wanted something different? He wanted to change their relationship when it had been so good for so long, because, you see, he was in love with Jack Kelly.
And that was hilarious!
Or maybe it was heartbreaking. Maybe he was laughing because he didn’t know what else to do, because this was Jack. Jack, his best friend Jack. Jack who told him everything, Jack who confided in him, Jack who was just…well, he was Jack. Jack who’s best friend was Davey. Who invited Davey over for dinner at least once a week, who always made sure to invite Davey along if they were going out, Jack who made friends so easily and always had a crowd of people to chose from but who always, without fail, had chosen Davey first.
Because they were friends. Best friends. Always had been. Probably always would be. And now that Davey had realized that he didn’t necessarily want that, that he’d just been watching Jack paint and dance and talk and laugh, and somewhere in the back of his mind that wasn’t enough, maybe had never been enough, because some part of him that had just revealed how big it was wish that Jack wasn’t his best friend, but his boyfriend. That some small part of him maybe had been thinking about what if Jack kissed him and the paint on Jack’s hands found its way to Davey’s face.
And that. That was not funny, that was sad. It was sad that now he knew, now he’d constantly be aware of it, constantly aware of the fact that no matter how good. No matter how wonderful. No matter how amazing and fun and perfect his friendship with Jack was, there was a part of him that wasn’t satisfied with that. A part of him that wanted more, wanted change, wanted something different.
That wasn’t funny. That was sad.
Jack had frozen when Davey answered. He was still holding his paintbrush, long and covered in streaks and splatters of a million different colors, but the bright red he was currently using had dripped down onto his shoe and the drop cloth he was standing on.
Davey focused on that. The bright red paint against the blue canvas of Jack’s Converse. It stood out. Unlike the drop cloth, which was so covered in paint that Davey couldn’t even tell what color it had started out as, Jack’s shoes were clean. Like he’d never painted in them before. They weren’t new, Davey noticed that, too, the white soles and trim were scuffed and the shoelaces halfway to fraying, but they were clean. Except for a single drip of red paint.
He focused on the paint because if he chose to focus on that one thing, he didn’t have to look at Jack’s face and see what kind of emotion Jack was feeling. Because what had been hysterically funny to him a second ago was suddenly just so, so sad, and he had a feeling that looking at Jack’s face would make him cry.
Jack didn’t move for what felt like a long, long time. Davey had never known Jack to stay so still for so long. When he did move, he sat next to Davey on the couch. The paintbrush dropped to the floor, blending in with the streaked drop cloth. Without the paint drip to focus on, Davey closed his eyes.
If he was going to cry over this, it would not be sitting on Jack’s couch, it would be alone in his room.
Jack hugged him.
He’d gotten a lot of hugs from Jack. Jack liked hugs, he always had. He was a tactile person, always holding hands and slinging his arm around shoulders and hugging, always hugging. It was normal and comforting.
The problem with that was that when somebody is fighting off tears, it immediately becomes ten times harder to stop them from falling when somebody tries to comfort them. Jack wrapped his arms around Davey and even with his eyes screwed shut, he started crying.
He cried for longer than he’d laughed. Jack didn’t say anything, just held him tight and let him cry.
Because Jack was a good friend. Jack would let him cry and let him talk if he needed to but not force him to, because Jack was a good friend. His best friend.
“You okay, Davey?”
“No,” Davey answered truthfully, which made him laugh again. His emotions were a mess and all over the place and he honestly had no idea what he feeling.
After a few long, shaky breaths, he opened his eyes and looked at Jack for the first time since he’d stopped laughing.
Why had he laughed? How much stupider could he look, laughing and then confessing that he was in love with Jack and then breaking down crying? That was pretty much the worst combo of things to do. Separately, they were all kind of embarrassing. Together? That was awful.
Jack didn’t look upset. In any way. He looked slightly concerned, but he still looked like he was maybe about to start laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“Hmm? I’m not laughing.”
“You’re about to.”
“Not until I know you’re okay.” Jack had let go of Davey enough that they could look at each other, and he brushed his fingers across Davey’s face like he was wiping away a tear.
“I…I am. I think.”
“You sure?”
“Kind of?”
“Well…I didn’t want to seem like I was laughing at you, see. ‘Cause I’m definitely not.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s just that I’ve been trying to flirt with you for like four years and didn’t think I was getting anywhere.” Jack’s nose crinkled again and Davey could tell how hard he was trying not to start laughing. “At all. I didn’t even think you noticed. So it is pretty funny.”
Jack lost the battle to keep from laughing and collapsed into laughter almost as hard as Davey had. If anything, his loud laughter at least dissolved any tension that Davey had felt, and in a minute, even though he wasn’t exactly sure why, he was laughing again, too. They fell into each other, laughing like they always did when they were together.
It was as familiar as anything could be, and it felt good. Even if he hadn’t at all started to process what Jack had just said, because how was he supposed to? What kind of night started out so normal and then turned into both of them revealing they were romantically interested in each other?
A very confusing one, that was what kind of night. If he’d been sitting next to anybody else, he would have already been planning to call Jack later. Too bad Jack was the one next to him. He’d probably be calling Sarah when he got home, anyway.
But laughing was much better than crying. And it was good laughter, too, Jack’s contagious laughter was impossible to not join in on, and it was loud and sidesplitting and whatever was funny was absolutely hilarious.
“I guess I should have known that you probably just didn’t notice, huh? I mean, I watched people flirt with you all the time and you were always oblivious. I just thought I was being obvious.” Jack shook his head, still grinning broadly. “Shoulda just said it as plain and easy as you did.”
“I don’t get it,” Davey admitted, and Jack tilted his head again, that same, so familiar spark of humor still dancing in his eyes.
“Dave, I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen. And I’m pretty sure everyone knew except you. I wasn’t exactly subtle.”
Now that. That was actually hilarious. Genuinely funny, not a confusing mix of emotions that he laughed at because he didn’t know what else to do. Jack? In love with him? Flirting with him? Not being subtle? Since when?
“Since we were sixteen, doofus,” Jack said again, and Davey realized he’d spoken aloud. “Do you remember when you stayed the night to watch that meteor shower from my roof?” Davey nodded, and Jack shrugged. “Since then, I think. Maybe before that, but that’s when I figured it out.”
“Oh.”
“And then I spent two years trying to get over you. And then I flirted with you nonstop for four years and was just about to give up.”
“Oh.”
“But now I’m thinking maybe I should just ask you out and be direct about it.” Jack’s smile turned a little bit nervous.
Davey was still trying to process everything he’d said.
Of course he remembered watching a meteor shower from Jack’s roof. It had been nice, just him and Jack sitting on the roof counting shooting stars. It had been beautiful out, so calm and peaceful on the roof. Even though they weren’t that far removed from the street, it felt a million miles away from every passing car. They stayed up late and talked about everything and nothing and fallen asleep on Jack’s bed, and it had been wonderful. Like a scene out of a movie, the perfect teenage sleepover.
Though, if Davey really thought about it, maybe it had been something else, too. Maybe he did remember noticing Jack go strangely quiet while they were out on the roof, maybe he did remember catching Jack watching him as much as the sky. And maybe he did remember briefly catching himself staring at the way the starlight reflected in Jack’s eyes and off his hair.
And maybe he did remember moments kind of like that through a lot of his memories. Maybe he did remember thinking more times than he’d ever cared to admit about the fact that Jack was, objectively, attractive. About how sometimes he got so flustered and quiet when Jack put an arm around his shoulder. And he’d never thought about moments like that, maybe even purposefully avoided thinking about them, but maybe he should have realized that he was in love with Jack Kelly sooner.
“Unless you don’t want to? I mean we don’t have to…and we don’t, I mean, we can-“
“No! I…if you’re asking me out, I think I want that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I think…I think maybe it’s been a long time coming.”
Jack was smiling at him again. His sweet, genuine smile. And now that Davey’s mind had stopped spinning with his realization and he’d taken a second to think and he’d calmed down…
How had he not realized he was in love with Jack sooner?
Every few seconds another memory came to the forefront of his mind that just made it unbelievable that his moment of realization had waited until he was twenty-two years old to make its debut.
This was Jack, who’d come up to Davey on the first day of kindergarten and convinced him to play, Jack who’d always been smiling at him from the front row when he had to talk in front of the class and got nervous, Jack who’d slept over once a week every summer for what felt like forever, Jack who drew Davey little pictures and left them for him to find. This was Jack, who had always been popular and always been handsome and had always had a crowd around him because he was just charismatic and nice and funny, but who had always, always made time for Davey. Jack who’d sat at Davey’s kitchen table and watched him do homework, Jack who’d laughed at Davey’s jokes, Jack who’d always been the first to know when something was wrong before Davey even said something because he could just tell.
Davey had had other friends. Other close friends. Even other friends he’d referred to as his best friend before.
But there had never been anyone like Jack. Ever. Nobody even came close. Obviously what he had with Jack was different, obviously he’d fallen in love with him, how could he not?
“So…that’s definitely a yes on going out sometime?” Jack bumped his shoulder into Davey’s gently.
“Yeah.” Davey smiled at Jack, now.
Everything had calmed down, now. In his head. It had settled not on funny, and not on sad, but on happy and hopeful.
The sun had finished setting sometime between the start of Davey’s laughing and now, and so the room was dimly lit by the the lamp on the side table. Jack shifted positions, flipping around so that he was lying with his head in Davey’s lap. That was often how they ended up when Davey was over, because Jack didn’t like to sit up straight, but for all its familiarity, it was different.
Good different, but different anyway.
Maybe, Davey thought, that was how everything would be. Maybe it would all be about finding the little difference in the familiar things. Like the way Jack was looking him now, the same familiar face but with something new and exciting in his eyes.
Davey knew Jack very well. Better than anyone else in the world. He knew almost every single expression Jack made, and he could usually be almost certain what they meant and take a pretty good guess at what caused them.
He didn’t recognize this one, though. It was happy, and peaceful, and maybe a little nervous and hopeful, a mix of a million different emotions looking up at Davey. Davey had a feeling the same mix was displayed across his face.
It was scary, a little bit. Deciding to change a relationship that had worked and been so, so good for so long. Not know exactly what would happen. After all, romantic relationships weren’t guaranteed to last, not at all. Who knew if Davey and Jack would make as good of a couple as they did friends? And who knew what would happen if the answer to that question was no? But they were going to try. And that was scary, a little bit.
But this was Jack. Jack of the cowboy facts and paint stained clothes and daydreams. Jack who’s gap-toothed smile had broken through Davey’s nervous shell on the first day of kindergarten. Jack who’d always been there.
Davey had put trust in this relationship for almost twenty years. He could put trust in it some more.