Chapter Text
“Hey, Ken – Kent.”
He could end the call. One click, one more to turn off the phone entirely.
Kent glanced to his right where Seonghyun had not as much as stirred. If he continued to talk, he'd wake him up.
“Kent … merde, it’s pretty late in Vegas, isn’t it?”
The door closed with a soft sound behind Kent. On the couch, a pair of shining eyes opened and stared. He walked over and sat down next to her. “Yeah, Zi - Jack, yeah, it is. Whaddaya want?”
On the other end, Jack hesitated. “I’m sorry, this can wait until tomorrow - “
“Spit it out.” Kent closed his eyes, swallowed, relaxed the hand on Purrs’ back. “You’ve already woken me up, just say what you need to say before I fall asleep again.”
“J’suis désolé.”
Outside, the lights were on, like they always were. Nothing ever changed in Las Vegas. Nothing whatso-fucking-ever. Kent didn’t speak.
“I’m marrying Bittle.”
And there it was.
“I just wanted to let you know. Before it becomes public.”
It was odd; a year before they didn’t even speak to each other, and Kent would've killed to change it.
Ten years earlier, Kent had wanted to be the name in that sentence.
“If … if you want to come, I don’t mind. Bittle, either.”
A laugh lodged itself in Kent’s throat, threatened to choke him. He let the phone fall onto the couch, watched it wobble before settling, almost felt disappointed that it didn’t fall and crack itself on the floor.
“Kent?” Jack’s now tinny voice ran out, far away and way too fucking close. Always too fucking close.
Kent took a deep breath, then another, before picking up the phone again. “Sorry, Purrs knocked the phone outta my hand. Took a little fight to get it back.”
“How is she?”
“She’s doing alright. Still down to earth despite her Insta-fame, you know.”
“Insta-what?”
Kent smiled, despite it all. “Forget it.”
“Right.” Jack hesitated. “It’s next year, the wedding. July, I think. In Canada. Euh, after your birthday. I’ll send you an invitation, if you want it. Or I won’t, if you don’t.” He trailed off.
Kent had once seen a newly hatched bird, just a baby, fall off the edge of its nest. It couldn’t have had any eyes, anything that could have told it of the imminent danger it was in, only a sense of curiosity and adventure that made it stand and walk and not stop. He'd been thirteen years old, had braces on his teeth and a sense of anxiety in the pit of his stomach he hadn’t yet been able to name, and the bird had landed on the pavement with a sound he never quite forgot. Helpless and new, it had been. Helpless and impossible to save, even if he'd tried.
He wasn’t thirteen anymore. The feeling in the pit of his stomach had developed and been named. They weren’t helpless, and they certainly weren’t new.
Kent thought of Seonghyun. Always did, these days. That was new, that was something in the pit of his stomach that did not have a name. He knew what name it would be given, if it didn’t fall out of the nest it had built in his chest and lodged in his throat before it grew large enough to be.
“You can always send an invitation,” Kent said, felt the words on his tongue and in a lump in his throat. “I can see if I have the time.”
“I will,” Jack said, voice thick with something that wasn’t relief. Or maybe it was, and the years between when Kent could tell his thought without him having to say them and now had changed his voice. His body. His mind. His heart. And Kent’s, too.
“Do I get a plus one?”
And some things, time hadn’t changed. In his mind, he could see Jack’s face, the surprise and understanding that always took longer to come than for others. When they'd been young, it had been funny. When they'd grown up, it had been endearing. Even now, despite everything, it moved Kent’s lips into something resembling a smile.
“Euh, it’s included in the, in the RSVP. If you need it.”
“Would you mind if I brought someone?”
Jack was quiet, for minutes, for hours, for a fraction of a breath. “No, of course not. There’ll be Falconers, too. You might need someone in your corner.”
And Kent laughed, despite it all, without a sound. “I won’t start a fight at your wedding if they won’t. Might drink all your cocktails, though.”
“I’ll make sure there’s plenty,” Jack said, voice warm like the honey his Ma used to put in chamomile tea when he was younger so it would drown out the bitterness and he would actually drink it. He preferred brandy now.
“Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“Congratulations. I’m happy for you.”
And he meant it. For once in his life, even if it still stopped his breath short and hurt his eyes, he meant it.
“I’m happy, too.”
And he was, he was, he was, and Kent wanted to cry, and he wanted Seonghyun to hold him until he didn’t anymore and until the sun rose and until he, too, could speak words with such feeling. It had been so long.
“I’m going to go to bed again. It’s fucking late, Jack.”
“I know.” He smiled, soft and small on the other end. “Goodnight, Kent.”
And Kent smiled, too. “Bonne nuit, Jack.”