Pick your poison

[Brayden Smith]

"No... People who take the time to really look at you know what I know." Jack might have wanted people to only see that carelessly affected man but Bray wasn't the only one who looked past that. Marge did too—he knew she did because she stuck around and she found something in Jack worth caring about. Marge wasn't the type to suffer fools gladly; she wouldn't be practically living at Jack's apartment, taking care of Allie, if she didn't love Jack—the real Jack—every bit as much as Bray did.

He was always so hard on himself. He worked so hard to push aside the positive things that Bray said about him, as if afraid that if Bray saw him in too positive a light, he might be disappointed later on. That meant there was something else—something more. Bray wasn't stupid, he knew how to read between the lines. And instinctively, he felt it. There were bigger secrets that Jack was hiding and he had to be patient and wait them out, just as he waited out this important conversation about Jack's parents.

Bray's hands slid down the side of Jack's neck, along his shoulders and around them, hugging him close as they kissed and as Jack pulled him in. "If you need saving, I—I'm up to the task." He half-smiled. Jack had already saved him—how could he not return the favor? Was he saving Jack now? Was having this conversation doing more good than harm? Bray was heartbroken but maybe Jack needed to get some of these things off his chest, too. Maybe he needed someone to know about his sordid history and to still stand there and tell him that he was beautiful despite his ugly past.

"You are... worth it." Bray leaned up into the kiss, and then kissed him again. Gentle, so gentle; tender and soft. Sad, too. The kiss communicated so much; it was a little bittersweet. "I love you, Jack. Marge loves you, too." His hand lifted to ease back some of Jack's hair so that he could gaze properly into his eyes. Jack was brave. He was beautiful and he deserved so much more than he had been given in life.

His next words he weighed carefully before he spoke again, in a lowered tone that was only meant for Jack. "No matter what happened in the past, or what other secrets you might have, Jack, that won't ever change. Okay? Just—just remember that."

[Jack Ripley]

Marge. Oh, Marge. Marge his other best friend. Somehow, she saw straight through him from the start and didn't fault him for a single thing. Jack knew he was lucky to have found her, to have found Brayden. Who knew that the people he needed in his life were all the way across the country all this time? And he'd been stuck in hell--excuse me--Boston. He could live his entire life never going back there again. He could stay here... forever. If his past didn't catch up to him.

It was hard not to believe in Brayden, with such conviction in his voice and in his eyes. Those eyes looked at him without condemnation. Somehow. He really looked at Jack like he sincerely thought he was some miracle, like he was worth saving.

No, damn it. He wasn't getting emotional again. But it was near impossible not to when Brayden kissed him like that. Not with passion and need but a soft sadness that pierced his heart almost as surely as his words back in the cafe did. It was as if Brayden had discovered the cracks in the armor and now knew where to wedge his knife in to chip it all away.

"I love you, too," Jack said, his thumb gently running down Brayden's chin. And he knew Marge did too. He knew. Their gazes were locked for so long in silence that Jack saw it; some internal struggle within Brayden. He wanted to say something but he wasn't saying it. Or... no. His heart skipped a fearful little beat. Did... did he know? Jack's mouth felt dry and for a moment, he thought he might be sick. Maybe he shouldn't have eaten so much at brunch and then swung around on that swing, he told himself. But really, it was the idea of Brayden knowing.

"I..." Jack reached for one of Brayden's hands, clasping it tight, to ensure it was real. Words wanted to escape but Jack wouldn't let them. He closed his mouth and lowered his gaze, his heart hammering hard against his ribs. A hard swallow, as if the words were there, stuck in his throat.

"...yeah, I'll try to remember that."

[Brayden Smith]

While Jack lowered his gaze and broke the spell, Bray didn't look away. He kept his eyes trained on Jack, memorizing every line of his face in that moment, knowing fully that Jack did have an even more terrible secret hidden away. The way Jack swallowed hard, the words on the tip of his tongue that wouldn't come out, he was doing the things Bray did when he was unsure and when he was weighing the consequences of each word. Was it worth it to speak or to hold his tongue? That was what Jack debated while Bray watched him almost like a hawk. A hawk with soft love in his eyes.

The hand that Jack held tightly turned to hold his hand. The other hand came up to his face again, to cup his cheek and raise his eyes back to Bray's. "Remember that." The same firm tone he took at the cafe to head off an inadvisable threesome with their server was taken here, again. Confidence Bray usually didn't display, surety that he usually never felt. They strengthened his voice—they gave him a voice, as a matter of fact. He was never more assured in that moment that he could and would weather any storm for Jack. Marge, too.

Bray had no conditions on his love. Love was love, and it was all or nothing. Either he loved all of Jack or he loved none of him. You didn't get to pick and choose which parts of a person to love while shunning and turning a blind eye on other parts simply because they were inconvenient or unpleasant. Bray felt that acutely. He kissed Jack again, poor sweet mistreated Jack who couldn't even see his own inner beauty because he was too busy pushing others away, redirecting them to the red herring that was his glamorous big-city charm and glamor.

Oh, but he didn't fool Bray! And he didn't fool Marge, either.

[Jack Ripley]

Why... What was it about Brayden that made him want to sit there and spill out his guts to him? It was like he opened up a door that couldn't be closed. Jack had never told these things to anybody. They had just been festering deep inside of him, in his subconscious for all this time. Refusing to be looked at, refusing to be acknowledged. Jack was every bit the Jack he portrayed himself as for a long time because he didn't acknowledge his shitty life growing up. He didn't acknowledge what fucked with his head, what made him, what molded him into the chaos that was Jack Ripley, even today.

Brayden seemed to know something. Or suspected something. Jack wondered if he'd said something while drunk. If Brayden was waiting for him to remember, like Jack so desperately wanted Brayden to remember what happened between them with that wine acting as a blockage.

"I want to tell you," he said finally, leaning into Brayden's loving touch. He so loved this. He could get used to this. He was already getting used to it, his heart blossoming under Brayden's soft tutelage. Jack was the dying flower in the pot. Brayden was the sun, sending his warm rays through the window, reaching for him while Jack leaned into his warmth. Jack closed his eyes.

"Just not now."

He didn't know when, either. When was there ever a good time to share something so dark with somebody who loved him? Sooner... rather than later? Was it better to rip off the bandaid and get it over with? Or keep burying his worst secrets until they were forced into the light by somebody else? Jack embraced Brayden again, pressing his cheek against the side of his head, gently rocking him side to side. Something he used to do as a child. By himself. To get himself to sleep. To get through sickness on his own. To make himself feel better.

"Not now."

[Brayden Smith]

Bray could only nod as a knot formed in his throat and his arms were ready to embrace Jack, to lift around his shoulders and pull him close. He hugged him warmly, tightly, with all the support and comfort that he had in him to give. Even though he didn't know what secrets Jack kept, he knew that they existed and that they held the key to those nightmares that plagued Jack night after night. Some traumatic event tore Jack up inside and he couldn't leave it behind even though he kept moving around the country.

Jack could run as hard and as fast as he could, but he could never run from himself.

Demons had to be faced. There was no other way to banish them. Perhaps he had never found the unyielding support that he had in Bray and Marge before, but he had them now. He had them—Bray, Marge—now and forever. Bray never spoke for others and even he could say without a shred of doubt that he and Marge would be on Jack's side until the day they breathed their last breath. The kind of love he felt and the love he saw in Marge, both for Jack, was too strong to be defeated by mere secrets.

"Any time." Bray's hand cradled the back of Jack's head as they rocked together, to hold him as Bray's mother used to hold him. A hand sifting through his hair, soft words of love in his ear, that was love. "Any time and anything, Jack. Don't be afraid. We won't leave you. You're a part of us and-and we're a part of you now." That was love, too.

[Jack Ripley]

And that was all he ever wanted. To stop being nothing. To be something to somebody. It made him think to his conversation with Allie and it pained him to think that Jack finally found his something, his somebody. And Allie was still out there floundering. Marge and Jack could only watch him for so long before something happened. They had to find him somebody... somebody that could be what Brayden had become for Jack.

Having found what he wanted, having aired some of the things that had been tightly bottled inside for far too long, Jack felt... light. Lighter than he could remember feeling in so long. After several moments of just being embraced and embracing Brayden, Jack eventually let out a soft sigh. Another kiss to the temple. He could never tire of that. It was part of being a close friend of Jack's. And especially a part of being his lover. His boyfriend.

"I'm ready to go home. I feel like I need a nap before we go up to look at the stars tonight. Who knew being emotional was so tiring?"

[Brayden Smith]

"Really? I feel pretty good." Bray's laugh was a mixture of relief and joy and the same lightness that he heard in Jack's tone. It was good to be a part of Jack's life, and although the burden across his shoulders grew heavier because of Jack's admissions, knowing that he lightened the load across Jack's shoulders made it all worthwhile. This was what love was--sharing their pain, growing and becoming stronger than ever before.

"Maybe you're getting old." Tongue-in-cheek, he teased Jack as the smile refused to fade. Bray led him back down the path, back to civilization and back to the disapproving mothers at the playground. Jack was right, though--emotions were draining, especially for someone who didn't look as though he was used to sharing much of his real thoughts and fears and feelings with others.

His mother hurt him so badly, Bray thought. So, so badly that it made Jack afraid to hurt others, which was a real shame because Bray did see kindness and warmth and affection in him. He lifted their clasped hands and kissed the back of Jack's hand reverently. Bray was here to love him now--and so was Marge, in her own... unique way. Together they could try to undo some of the damage that had been done all those years ago.