JackCrutchie "Things you said over the phone"

626 33 5
                                    

Crutchie hadn't particularly wanted Jack to be several states away all summer without him, but they hadn't really had a choice. This job would pay well, and Jack could come home a much more comfortable man than he was when he'd left New York.

But... Summers were supposed to be about them. And now Jack was far away, working and only calling at night.

It was late in the evening when Crutchie's phone rang again, Jack's name popping up on the screen. He stretched over the arm of the couch and just managed to snag the phone before it stopped ringing.

"Hello?"

"Hey Crutch," Jack replied happily. "How's everything at home?"

"The usual, only quieter and with less paint everywhere," he teased, earning a laugh from the other end of the call.

"Ah, you miss me singing around the house, you're just stubborn."

Jack had never been more right about anything, but Crutchie wasn't going to inflate his ego and tell him that.

"Nah, I can actually go to sleep without your angsty singing waking me up at the crack of dawn. You ever gonna show anyone else those ballads of yours?"

"Yeah, when I'm dead. But Crutch... I could write so many songs about this place. The stars out here are gorgeous, and the sunrise is colors I ain't ever seen before." Jack sighed, and Crutchie could almost see the content smile that was undoubtedly on his face.

"You like it out there?" he asked tentatively, almost afraid to hear the answer.

What if Jack liked it so much out there that he never came back to New York? He already had a job out there, and Jack wasn't materialistic- he could easily leave everything he had behind.

Maybe even Crutchie.

"Like it? I love it. It's beautiful, and everyone here is so nice. Like they actually care about you, you know?" Jack sighed happily. "Jesus, Crutch, you ain't lived until you've lived like this."

Crutchie felt tears prickling the backs of his eyes, but he tried his best to swallow past the lump in his throat.

"That's... That's great, Jack," he managed. "Really great. How's the work?"

"Eh, work's work. But my view is great out here, and the air doesn't taste like cigarette smoke, which is refreshing."

Crutchie felt the first tear began to slide down his face. "... Sounds like it's a good fit for a guy like you out there, Jacky."

"Yeah, it's pretty terrific," Jack chirped happily.

Crutchie went silent for a long moment, the tears beginning to fall faster. He sniffed loudly before scrubbing a hand over his face and telling himself rather sternly to pull it together.

Jack was so rarely actually happy, for god's sake. If the fresh air was making him happy, let it.

"Hey, Crutch..." Jack murmured. "You okay? Are you crying?"

"Y-yeah," he admitted. "Don't worry about it."

"Baby, what's wrong?"

The soft, whispered 'baby' was the final crack in the dam. Crutchie began to audibly cry now, taking a shaky breath and words spilling out faster than he could keep up.

"It's just... You s-sound so happy out there... And you're never happy in New York with me, and I just- I... I don't want you to never come home!"

"Oh, baby..." Jack's voice was low and soothing, almost as if Jack were there. "Yes, I like it out here. But if you think I ain't ever been happy in New York, you're wrong. New York's got my boys, and Medda's theatre, but most importantly, you."

Crutchie managed a wobbly smile.

"I'm coming home on July 31st, love, and I'll be coming straight home to you."

He blushed, feeling silly. He should've known Jack would pull a line like that, but the sincerity was still there.

"... I know you will."

"Good. And for the record? No city or small town's ever going to come close to you, alright? You matter the most. Forever."

Crutchie smiled, wiping the last of his tears away on the too-big sleeve of Jack's shirt. "Okay. I love you Jacky."

"I love you too, you big dork. Goodnight." And with that, Jack hung up and he was gone.

But that was okay... For the first time in his life, Jack would be running back to New York instead of away.

Ain't It A Fine Life, Carrying The Banner!Where stories live. Discover now