3. The moon is beautiful, isn't it?

YES THOSE LINES ARE GUMMY AND THE DOCTOR REFERENCES NO I AM NOT NORMAL ABOUT EPISODE SIX HHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Happy 4/20 folk, have a celebratory fanfic

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!! TW for descriptions of drug use! Weed/phat phucking joints to be specific. !!

-> For context: in Japanese, saying: 'The moon is beautiful, isn't it?' is a way of saying I love you without actually making the confession. I intended to use this as a metaphor for Jack being emotionally unavailable but honestly it just turned into a sappy little story in the end;]

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The artificial taste, all too prevalent, was evident as ever. It was all they could really afford these days, and while it got the job done, it wasn't as pleasant as -say- a properly aged whiskey. A sweet aftertaste so obviously fabricated that it would make even the worst of alcoholics nauseous, eventually. It was merely a temporary high of which the effects would eventually wear off; a fabricated escape, ironic as was.

Vegas had been fun as promised, but the mutual lack of finances was quick to cut them short of any enjoyment. Even through not paying the majority of their tabs, stealing all they could, and staying at the cheapest of motels; it was short-lasted. Besides the off-brand booze, they had only a few joints and a remnant of cocaine residing in their shared room. It had come to a point, not entirely against their content, where they would accept a shared bed if it meant a lower cost.

And so, they had spent the last few days drinking whatever they could get away with stealing, withering in bed together. Occasionally either of them would make an attempt to go out and fix himself a hooker, just to return within a few hours, with no luck. Alas, life could be rather difficult when you were a bald, walking corpse with an unusual skincolour. It was a hopeless situation: a constant slump of misery that would have no predetermined end, if they weren't prone to cutting it short themselves. Dave desperately clung on to his Vegas dream, and tried to drag Jack out of bed day and day again for a fruitless wander along the streets. The bars in reach were familiar with them and their dislike towards paying, and would have them banished before they even set foot inside. Jack was more content in his misery, happy to snore away with Dave, who'd often crawl into his arms when he slept.

Tonight? Much the same. The hours in which they would roam the city the days before ticked away, and Jack tossed in bed, knocking an empty bottle to the floor while doing so. Dave had returned not long ago and hopped in the shower right away, ignorant of the lump under their sheets. He would pretend to be asleep when he emerged from the bathroom again, in hopes of being left to his confined hardship. This, however, did not cater to Dave as he sat on the bed's edge regardless:

"Old sport, let's do somethin'! I'm fuckin' bored, man..."

Jack, with a dreading look on his face, slowly turned around and faced the aubergine. In his head, he already began to think of any and all snarky, passive aggressive, responses he could give the man who'd disturbed his slumber. Despite his annoyance, he shut himself when Dave lay a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"Hell, let's climb to the roof and smoke some of 'em blunts sportsy!"

Now, that actually didn't sound so horrid to the tangerine. Nights in Vegas without heavy substances were overwhelming as could be, but a joint in solitude could prove to be a relieving experience. The motel they stayed at was rather big, containing three floors of which they resided on the third. Jack was sure the flat roof had to be easily accessible, if not through a hatch, then along a drainpipe. He sat himself up, squinting his eyes against the brightness, despite the fact there weren't any light on in the room.

"Yeah, sure, whatever-"

He reluctantly agreed, and Dave almost jumped at the confirmation. It had become increasingly harder to get Jack out of bed these days, and this was considerably a grande achievement. As the orange got himself dressed in sweatpants and a slightly less disgusting shirt, Dave scrounged for the little box of joints that had to be somewhere. Jack eventually had to point out that he had likely left it in either one of their nightstands, which was proved correct upon pulling out the drawer. There remained three in total, pre-rolled, because Fredbear forbid that either one of them even so much as tried to do it themselves. With the both of them fixed for venturing out their room; Dave proposed they could wander the motel in search of a hatch first. Jack was content to agree, because while a climb out their window seemed enthralling, it wasn't without it's danger.

They headed down to the hallway left of them, later returning to the right when it proved ineffectual. It was there that they did, in fact, find a hatch, which Dave and his absurd length could easily reach. Out came a dusty ladder, which slid out until it stood steadily on the floor beneath their feet. Upward, no sign of a night sky. Dave, being the idiotic and fairly fearless bastard he is, climbed up it without question and discovered it lead to a crawl space between the roof and the ceiling, where most the electronics running the motel were located. With a few clicks and bangs, he opened another, relatively smaller, trapdoor that showed a starry night beyond it. Dave climbed through it and quickly called for Jack to do the same, who followed without much question.

Besides indented parts of the roof harbouring puddles of earlier fallen rain, it wasn't so bad up here. To their right, their view was blocked by high risen buildings, but in all other directions they could look out over lower establishments. Dave guided them to a fairly dry spot close to the roofs edge, a little further than where their room would be, where Jack immediately sat himself down. It was a nice temperature out; the humid heat from the day had seized and was replaced by it's complimentary aftermath. A certain type of comfortable warmth that fell over the brimming city like a blanket, embracing the night hours. Where there were usually clouds hoovering over them; the sky now seemed clearer than ever and stars could easily be made out. The moon was about halfway visible, it's other half hiding away from the commoners sigh.

Just before Dave sat himself down beside his tangerine, he was delighted with an idea, and excused himself as he rushed back down the trapdoor they came through. Sooner than later, he returned with their bedsheets dragging behind him, just barely keeping them from mopping across the rooftop. While Jack made his sigh sound as disappointed as he possibly could; he found the gesture to be endearing and the additional warm coverage to be welcomed. Dave sat himself down beside his old sport, draping the sheets over Jack's shoulders as he located the other end over his own. With the size of them not allowing for much distance, the two scooted up against each other in the cocoon of sheets.

It were always things like these; subtle ways to obtain closeness without acknowledging it. Dave had always been unaffected by the temperature around him, and there was no reason for him to pull a stunt such as this, other than the intimacy it would provide him with. They'd be forced together under the stained white, sides pressed together, and Jack suspected and arm would eventually land on his shoulders. He didn't mind. Matter of fact, he quite liked it whenever Dave insinuated, but he thought of it to be better unspoken.

"Alright, come here with that blunt."

Jack spoke, his stern voice all but complimentary to the way he let his body melt against Dave's. How would he even begin to unpack his emotions, when it was all that he had been running from for years? No, this wordless parsimony was a far easier route to take.

"Can do, sportsy!"

Dave whipped out one of the joints from it's containment, holding it above the flame of his lighter until the first strings of smoke began to curl from it. Impolite as he was, he took the first hit himself, and surely enough a faint orange rose at the end of it. Predictable as was, he lay his free arm over Jack's shoulders as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. He took another puff before passing it on to the orange, who was eager to suck on the advanced cancer stick. You'd suspect that -after being on all sorts of hard drugs for days on end- a bit of marijuana wouldn't be of much value, but the upcoming light-headed sensation proved to be a successful relief. He inhaled, then exhaled, and watched the smoke vanish into the dark sky. Dave didn't know how to smoke for shit, and the filter was soaked in saliva before Jack had even gotten to touch it.

"Old sport, it's like-"

He began as he was handed back the blunt, choking on the hit he took mid-sentence, before continuing with tears suppressed in his eyes:

"It's like, we indirectly kissed~"

Jack could swear that each and every time they shared a joint, a cigarette, even a glass, Dave had made this very comment. He was making his effort of an insinuation, Jack knew that, but it had never taken them anywhere as either refused to actually acknowledge the intention behind it. Instead, he just hummed disapprovingly in response, snatching the joint from Dave's hand. He inhaled and Dave, who had barely held the thing for ten seconds, looked at him with confusion and a tad bit of annoyance. Jack returned the gaze, perking his head up to exhale the smoke into the aubergine's agape mouth. He stared back with strings of fume spilling from his lips, until he began furiously coughing on it. Jack giggled in a lighthearted manner, and spoke as Dave made an attempt to clam himself down:

"You wish-!"

What was he to do with this, how was he to take this? He didn't understand if Jack was just going along because he knew no better, or if he was actually returning his insinuations. It had come to a point where Dave was aware how he felt towards his companion, but when it came to the man in question he was left reaching in the dark. Sometimes it was as if they were growing beyond platonic; embraces when they slept in the same bed, subtle touches that would go unnoticed by the public eye, playful acts like these. But then again, he felt it all crumble when Jack would sneer at him, snarky responses that seemed to gesture towards annoyance regarding him. He was so, so, lost when it came to the tangerine, perhaps equally as lost as Jack was himself.

It were these thoughts that accompanied him as he stared ahead at the darkened sky, rotating their joint as he could slowly feel his worries seep away. Maybe his unrequited feelings weren't relevant when he had Jack beside him, when them being together in this intimate setting was all that should matter for the moment. As all good things did, the blunt eventually came to an end, and Dave proposed to light another. Jack had sulked against him, his eyelids obviously weighing heavier than before and his lips curved into a mindless smile, but nodded regardless.

This, this was nice. Dave had sat cross-legged, and Jack's hand rested on his knee when it wasn't occupied with the task of taking a drag. Maybe, through all the facade Vegas had provided them with, this was all the both could really wish for. Rotating the second advanced cancer stick, the both were without much worry, without much filter. Where it made Jack grow gigglier, it only filled Dave with a stronger sense of adoration.

"The moon is beautiful, isn't it old sport?"

With the joint held out in between them, he said those simple words. Had he known the meaning of it, had he understood his implications, Jack hurriedly asked himself. Even presuming that he did, had Dave meant it the way he suspected? Was this merely another vaguely flirtatious comment that was determined to vanish between them, or was this his idea of a confession?

"I think-"

He removed his head from it's designated spot against Dave's side and looked up at him, only to realise he already had his gaze fixed on him. Smoke poured from his nostrils, and even through his bloodshot eyes, Jack swore he could see the intention that hid behind his words.

"I think, the moon is beautiful too, Dave-"

His voice was airy, it echoed against the pressure that had begun to build in his ears. All the complicated emotions that he had so desperately tucked away under a passive aggressive persona, confined in such a simple statement. There wasn't a need to verbally acknowledge anything between them in this moment, they could detect it in each other's purged eyes. The moon that was supposedly so beautiful, compared to the beauty of their attachment in not a singular way.

Oh, how strange it is to feel loved in a world that had convinced you of being unlovable.

The tension could be cut with a blade, the electricity between them giving a gentle glow to their faces. It radiated around them, it surrounded them from above, from below, left, right, all where they could reach it was undeniably there. What to say, when you were sure that words would cut short regardless of which you used. Dave brought the joint to his lips, took a rich drag before he lay a hand to embrace Jack's jawline. Raising his head to align his mouth with Jack's, he watched it fall open. In one long exhale, he shotgunned nearly all the fume directly into Jack's mouth, who eagerly swallowed it and exhaled through his nostrils.

It couldn't have been more than an inch, the distance between them was so minimal that even the slightest movement would make them clash together. They could feel each other's warm breath tingle across their faces, and by God, was it the most precious moment they had ever shared. There was no worry for emotions that would shut them down, no fear of rejection; the future simply had no relevance is this moment. Only the here and now existed to them, only this moment of mutual ecstasy, heightened by the weed that circulated their systems.

"Can I kiss you?"

Dave's question was so sudden and direct that it made Jack stumble over his words, trying to comprehend what was asked of him;

"I- What-?"

"I just, really want to kiss you right now."

The absence of that everlasting nickname two sentences in a row indicated the seriousness of his intentions, the look in his half lidded eyes so full of love it almost intimidated Jack. Dave's hand remained on his jaw, and so long as he wouldn't move he was sure neither of them would. The sheets fell from their shoulders as Jack raised forward, connecting them ever so gently. And, by all that could possibly rule from above, was it satisfactory.

Through their stay in Vegas, hell, through the entirety of their lives, there had been nothing aside sloppy make-out sessions with faces that would be forgotten the same day. Although this, the barely discussed act of intimacy, the pouring of feelings in their brief contact, compensated for all they had never confessed. Oh, that sweet moment without worry, where all there was, was merely the presence of another. What a blunt couldn't do, aye?

Dave was warm against him, his lips gentle in their touch and his hand restlessly trailing Jack's jawline. It was sweet, the way which his body had a reaction to finally having some sort of reciprocation towards his feelings. And, to say Jack was equally as happy to provide him with such, would be an understatement. Certain it was that, at a point in time, under a star filled sky, the two had made their confessions, of sorts. In the context of dreadful, misery riddled, lives, the comfort of each other's similarities was really all they ever desired. To set aside the emotional complexities was a task on it's own, but to do so in such a beautiful, vulnerable, way required more than just platonic affection.

"Damn."

Jack spoke, perhaps too plainly, when they parted. What was there to say, in such a situation? He wasn't exactly prepared for an emotional confession, much rather confining them within that very kiss.

"You kiss like a woman, old sport~"

"What- The fuck's THAT supposed to mean?!"

His attempts to sound genuinely offended failed miserably, instead resorting to an airy giggle that didn't seem to end so soon. Perhaps, this is all that would ever truly come of them; these acts, no matter how straightforward, that would then immediately be laughed at, so long as they were who they, well, were. And maybe, this was for the best: in the end Jack would eventually have to return to his promise, and there was limited space for a purple child murderer in that very plan. For all that mattered, that gentle kiss was a mutual confirmation.

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Jack considered that he should have crossed that barrier of repressed emotions and spoken about it to Dave, so often had he replayed the scenario in his head in all the ways it could've turned out different. What would have become of them, if they had attempted for it to work. With Dave and his soul stood before him, the harsh realisation that he would never get to know began to take hold.

"Dave-"

His voice was weak, almost as weak as Dave's had been seconds earlier. Body tense, fingernails digging harshly into his palms, he forced himself to continue:

"It shouldn't at all be hard to say goodbye to you..."

He so deeply hoped that all his feelings, all he had ever dreamed about, was audible in his voice. So desperately did he wish that Dave understood the weight to his words; his confession, now much heavier than the one they shared on that roof decades ago.

"And yet-"

A singular, lone, tear traced his cheeks, clinging to his jawline just before falling into the endless void they were trapped in. How long it had been since he last cried, since he felt any strong emotion at all, since his soul departed from his body?

"It is."

Dave looked equally as frail, his eyes turned to the floor with repressed tears dangerously close to spilling. He understood, all too well, what Jack said to him, but in a situation where words held little matter, there was nothing he could say in return.

Oh, what tragedy their fate had brought upon them.

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[3187 words]

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