Usually, Jack is the crier. Yes, he’s better at making his emotions disappear with Tennessee whiskey and screaming fits, but nine times out of ten, he’s the one calling Miles with a choked voice and mindless blubbering words falling from his tear-soaked lips.
But sometimes, on stormy nights, usually in winter or early June, Miles will press Jack’s contact name with trembling hands. He’ll greet Jack with a sweet “Hello” that lacks all of it’s usual cheery qualities and listen to Jack’s breathing shift from calm to urgent.
This is one of those nights.
“Mi, hi, I’m here, what’s wrong,” Jack cooed out, switching the phone to speaker so he could pace while trying to calm the love of his life down from one of his fits.
Miles made a distressed and choked sound before responding. “It’s so fucking hard sometimes, Jackie,” he sobbed out vaguely, clutching his phone to his ear with ice cold hands and unsteady fingers. “I- I’m supposed to be onstage in- in ten goddamn minutes, but I- I wanna be home,” he continued, voice cracking on the final word. He was always more vocal than Jack with his emotions, and it always made Jack’s heart hurt.
This specific night happens to be Miles’ little nephew’s birthday. Jack remembered flying to England with him back in ‘12 so Miles could see his sister’s first child the minute he was born. He hadn’t missed a birthday since as he was desperate to be the cool uncle he always dreamed of being.
He was missing Theo’s sixth birthday for a seminar he didn’t give a shit about and Jack ached for him.
He stayed on the phone with him an reassured him that neither Theo nor Leanore would care when he arrived two days late with a five hundred dollar Wal-Mart gift card (and a signed copy of his book because he’s an insane narcissist), accepted every picture of Theo that Miles wanted to send him and ramble about, and soothed him softly until Miles’ assistant came to fetch him.
He was still crying when he ended the call.
