west coast winter. [s/a]
Zack frowns through his car windshield at the gray sky, orange sun trying desperately to force its way through the thick, unforgiving cloud, failing miserably at the last hurdle as the snow flurries in and out.
He taps the button on the steering wheel to set the wipers to auto clear, and the black plastic judders its way across the glass, wiping the snow clear only to be replaced within the minute.
Zack’s waiting for someone.
Whether or not their flight gets in is another story entirely, and judging by the snow, it’s looking unlikely.
Zack glares at the offending white dust and fumbles around in his pocket for his phone. Subconsciously, it’s to check to see if anyone’s heard anything, but if asked, he’d say he needed to know the time.
It’s half past four in the evening of December twenty-second. Alex’s flight is due to land in fifteen minutes, and he doesn’t know whether Alex is aboard said flight, or whether the flight’s coming in or not.
As if on cue, his phone vibrates in his palm and he is filled with a sense of apprehension and muted dread as he sees Alex’s name appears on screen. He sighs, pressing the glowing green button and preparing himself for more bad news.
“I take it you’re not on the plane, then.” He says with a sigh, glancing up into the rear view mirror and twisting a blonde curl anxiously around his finger.
“Uh, no. There weren’t enough seats and they’re going in order of flight number. Since my flight was only due to fly out yesterday, I’m way down the list. The earliest flight they can get me on is tomorrow night at eleven thirty.”
“But you won’t get back in time. You’re landing in New York.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. You know that, Zee. I wish I could, but I can’t control the weather.”
Zack frowns out of the window at the parking lot and sighs, resting his free hand on his forehead, fingers splayed open.
“I told you to get an earlier flight, didn’t I? I told you flying back on the twenty-first was too close.”
“How was I to know about the snow, Zack?” Alex retorts. “Because I’d sure as Hell appreciate a suggestion.”
“Alex, seriously. It’s winter, and it’s England. It usually snows there in the winter months.”
Alex falls silent for a moment, and Zack almost thinks he’s won.
“Well, whatever. I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do. I really don’t want to miss it, but I’m afraid I might have to.”
Zack purses his lips at Alex’s sudden level-headedness and glares at the nearest passer-by, who glances at him in fear before scurrying away.
“Zack? You’ve gone quiet.”
“Well, what do you want me to say?” Zack says, voice more watery than he’d like. “Am I supposed to be totally okay with the fact that you’re going to miss Christmas? It’s our first fuckin’ one together, Alex.”
“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t want to get back to you? ‘Cause believe me, I do, honestly, more than anything.”
“Yeah, sure.” Zack snaps, pulling the phone away from his ear and exiting the call, regretting doing so within seconds.
He sighs raggedly, leaning forwards and resting his head against the steering wheel, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. This has not gone well.
And so he sends Jack a very quick, haphazardly strung together text before inputting Holly’s address into his satellite navigation.
If he can’t spend Christmas with Alex, then he doesn’t spend Christmas in Baltimore.
Holly opens the door to him the next day, and he gives her a sheepish smile and sniffles. He’s not technically stopped crying since he hung up on Alex, but let’s not overcomplicate things.
Jack bustles past her and embraces Zack quickly, mumbling a few words of reassurance into his ear as quietly as possible. By now, Zack has explained the whole circumstance to him, and Jack is less than impressed with Alex’s terrible planning, to say the least.
There’s a giggle then, and Zack looks down towards the floor and sees Roman, Angel’s toddler, tugging at the leg of his jeans.
“Hey, kid.” Zack says with a small smile (though it’s the biggest he’s smiled in a long time) and he reaches down to ruffle his hair.
Angel appears then, trailing after her son and scooping him up, laughing at the little noises he makes. She smiles weakly at Zack, hugging him with her free arm and nodding in greeting.
Zack spends almost all of the twenty-third with them, and forgets completely about stupid Alex and his stupid travel plans, right up until he gets a short, simple text from the boy in question.
Getting on the plane now. I should land by tonight. I’m sorry. I love you. xx Lex
And with this news stored firmly in his mind, Zack dismisses himself and tells everyone Merry Christmas, before settling himself back into his car and continuing on with his drive.
He can’t believe he’s doing this.
When Alex lands a few hours later, just like he said he would, he scans the parking lot quickly, unsurprised by the fact that Zack’s car is nowhere to be seen.
He trudges to the rows and rows of cabs waiting by the airport to haul passengers to their homes, and pities the poor driver he ends up with as he recites the address of his and Zack’s apartment -which is a good two hundred miles away.
He falls asleep somewhere along the way, because the next thing he knows is the driver is shaking him awake and demanding his fare -and it isn’t cheap.
What he doesn’t expect to find when he pushes open the door is blackness, save for the moonlight streaming through the windows.
“Zack? Where are you?”
He fumbles in the dark for a switch, flicking it quickly and illuminating the room in a harsh white light. He squints and narrows his eyes at the brightness, before his eyes fall on the piece of notepaper held to the front of the refrigerator by a red, heart shaped magnet. He pulls it away gingerly, skewing the magnet onto an angle.
Spending Christmas in California. I’m sorry.
Alex’s eyes blow wide and he blinks, computing the words a few times in his mind before shoving the paper into his pocket. He glances at the wall clock that hangs above the dining table (Alex had thought it a stupid position, but in the end Zack had won, just like always). It’s three thirty in the morning of the twenty-fourth of December. Christmas Eve. There’s no way in Hell he’ll be able to make it to Anaheim in time.
He takes a seat at the dining table and exhales loudly, closing his eyes and trying to think. He has his options -either, a; try his damnedest to make it, using any method possible, or b; don’t bother and spent what would be their first Christmas together alone and wallowing in misery.
And on that thought, he scoops up his keys and runs.
Christmas Day comes.
And goes.
Zack finds himself curled up on the sofa, eyes fixed on the door for almost twenty-four hours straight. And when the second hand of the clock ticks past twelve, he suddenly discovers that he’s crying. Maybe he’s been crying all day -he was too preoccupied to care.
He stands and stumbles his way over into the kitchen, fingers curling around the bottle of whichever alcoholic substance he comes across. He shouldn’t have expected anything less from Alex.
He apparently drinks more than he can handle, because he wakes at seven pm the next day, surrounded by more empty bottles than he cares to count. He groans, rubbing his hand across his forehead and under the soft curls that have recently taken to falling into his eyes.
He stands, stretching absently and frowning as his bones crack horribly. If he’s going to drown his sorrows, he will do so in a bar, filled with other lonely losers who’ve spent their Christmas alone.
He rubs his eyes, fumbling his way to the front door and unlocking it, closing it softly behind him and twisting the key in the lock, before tucking the bundle into his pocket.
He turns, and immediately trips over the human sized lump on his front porch. The very human sized, Alex shaped lump.
He nudges the older boy’s dozing form with his foot, progressively harder and harder until the blonde at his feet shudders awake.
He looks up, eyes wide for a second before standing and dusting himself off.
“And when were you planning on telling me you were here?” Zack asks, almost accusingly as he folds his arms over his chest.
“I tried knocking, about, uh, three hours ago. You didn’t answer, so I guess I just fell asleep. Where are you going?”
“Downtown, not that it’s of any relevance to you.”
Alex frowns, because he didn’t expect Zack to still be mad at him.
“I made it back, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but you’re a day late. It’s the twenty-sixth, if you hadn’t realized.” Zack snaps, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning to leave.
“So that’s it? I miss Christmas by nineteen hours and you’re just going to walk away?”
Zack swallows, blinking to dispel the tears he’s not quite done crying yet.
“Do you want to know how I spent my Christmas? In a car, driving across the country so I could come and find you. Convince you that maybe, just maybe I was worth it. Does that even mean anything to you?”
Zack bites at his lip and turns back to Alex. What he doesn’t expect is for the elder to be quietly crying, trying to compose himself.
“I’m sorry, okay? There was nothing I could do. I got back Christmas Eve morning and left again almost as soon as I saw your note. I’m sorry.” Alex’s shoulders slump and he pinches the bridge of his nose in what even he knows is a pathetic attempt to stop the tears.
But then he opens his eyes and Zack is right there, arms around him and hugging him tight, pressing a kiss to his forehead and whispering ‘I’m sorry’ into his ear.
And maybe, maybe everything’s going to be okay.
He chooses to forget about the square, velveteen purple box pressing against his thigh, because it’s not the day he thought it would be.
But maybe tomorrow just might be.
He taps the button on the steering wheel to set the wipers to auto clear, and the black plastic judders its way across the glass, wiping the snow clear only to be replaced within the minute.
Zack’s waiting for someone.
Whether or not their flight gets in is another story entirely, and judging by the snow, it’s looking unlikely.
Zack glares at the offending white dust and fumbles around in his pocket for his phone. Subconsciously, it’s to check to see if anyone’s heard anything, but if asked, he’d say he needed to know the time.
It’s half past four in the evening of December twenty-second. Alex’s flight is due to land in fifteen minutes, and he doesn’t know whether Alex is aboard said flight, or whether the flight’s coming in or not.
As if on cue, his phone vibrates in his palm and he is filled with a sense of apprehension and muted dread as he sees Alex’s name appears on screen. He sighs, pressing the glowing green button and preparing himself for more bad news.
“I take it you’re not on the plane, then.” He says with a sigh, glancing up into the rear view mirror and twisting a blonde curl anxiously around his finger.
“Uh, no. There weren’t enough seats and they’re going in order of flight number. Since my flight was only due to fly out yesterday, I’m way down the list. The earliest flight they can get me on is tomorrow night at eleven thirty.”
“But you won’t get back in time. You’re landing in New York.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. You know that, Zee. I wish I could, but I can’t control the weather.”
Zack frowns out of the window at the parking lot and sighs, resting his free hand on his forehead, fingers splayed open.
“I told you to get an earlier flight, didn’t I? I told you flying back on the twenty-first was too close.”
“How was I to know about the snow, Zack?” Alex retorts. “Because I’d sure as Hell appreciate a suggestion.”
“Alex, seriously. It’s winter, and it’s England. It usually snows there in the winter months.”
Alex falls silent for a moment, and Zack almost thinks he’s won.
“Well, whatever. I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do. I really don’t want to miss it, but I’m afraid I might have to.”
Zack purses his lips at Alex’s sudden level-headedness and glares at the nearest passer-by, who glances at him in fear before scurrying away.
“Zack? You’ve gone quiet.”
“Well, what do you want me to say?” Zack says, voice more watery than he’d like. “Am I supposed to be totally okay with the fact that you’re going to miss Christmas? It’s our first fuckin’ one together, Alex.”
“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t want to get back to you? ‘Cause believe me, I do, honestly, more than anything.”
“Yeah, sure.” Zack snaps, pulling the phone away from his ear and exiting the call, regretting doing so within seconds.
He sighs raggedly, leaning forwards and resting his head against the steering wheel, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. This has not gone well.
And so he sends Jack a very quick, haphazardly strung together text before inputting Holly’s address into his satellite navigation.
If he can’t spend Christmas with Alex, then he doesn’t spend Christmas in Baltimore.
Holly opens the door to him the next day, and he gives her a sheepish smile and sniffles. He’s not technically stopped crying since he hung up on Alex, but let’s not overcomplicate things.
Jack bustles past her and embraces Zack quickly, mumbling a few words of reassurance into his ear as quietly as possible. By now, Zack has explained the whole circumstance to him, and Jack is less than impressed with Alex’s terrible planning, to say the least.
There’s a giggle then, and Zack looks down towards the floor and sees Roman, Angel’s toddler, tugging at the leg of his jeans.
“Hey, kid.” Zack says with a small smile (though it’s the biggest he’s smiled in a long time) and he reaches down to ruffle his hair.
Angel appears then, trailing after her son and scooping him up, laughing at the little noises he makes. She smiles weakly at Zack, hugging him with her free arm and nodding in greeting.
Zack spends almost all of the twenty-third with them, and forgets completely about stupid Alex and his stupid travel plans, right up until he gets a short, simple text from the boy in question.
Getting on the plane now. I should land by tonight. I’m sorry. I love you. xx Lex
And with this news stored firmly in his mind, Zack dismisses himself and tells everyone Merry Christmas, before settling himself back into his car and continuing on with his drive.
He can’t believe he’s doing this.
When Alex lands a few hours later, just like he said he would, he scans the parking lot quickly, unsurprised by the fact that Zack’s car is nowhere to be seen.
He trudges to the rows and rows of cabs waiting by the airport to haul passengers to their homes, and pities the poor driver he ends up with as he recites the address of his and Zack’s apartment -which is a good two hundred miles away.
He falls asleep somewhere along the way, because the next thing he knows is the driver is shaking him awake and demanding his fare -and it isn’t cheap.
What he doesn’t expect to find when he pushes open the door is blackness, save for the moonlight streaming through the windows.
“Zack? Where are you?”
He fumbles in the dark for a switch, flicking it quickly and illuminating the room in a harsh white light. He squints and narrows his eyes at the brightness, before his eyes fall on the piece of notepaper held to the front of the refrigerator by a red, heart shaped magnet. He pulls it away gingerly, skewing the magnet onto an angle.
Spending Christmas in California. I’m sorry.
Alex’s eyes blow wide and he blinks, computing the words a few times in his mind before shoving the paper into his pocket. He glances at the wall clock that hangs above the dining table (Alex had thought it a stupid position, but in the end Zack had won, just like always). It’s three thirty in the morning of the twenty-fourth of December. Christmas Eve. There’s no way in Hell he’ll be able to make it to Anaheim in time.
He takes a seat at the dining table and exhales loudly, closing his eyes and trying to think. He has his options -either, a; try his damnedest to make it, using any method possible, or b; don’t bother and spent what would be their first Christmas together alone and wallowing in misery.
And on that thought, he scoops up his keys and runs.
Christmas Day comes.
And goes.
Zack finds himself curled up on the sofa, eyes fixed on the door for almost twenty-four hours straight. And when the second hand of the clock ticks past twelve, he suddenly discovers that he’s crying. Maybe he’s been crying all day -he was too preoccupied to care.
He stands and stumbles his way over into the kitchen, fingers curling around the bottle of whichever alcoholic substance he comes across. He shouldn’t have expected anything less from Alex.
He apparently drinks more than he can handle, because he wakes at seven pm the next day, surrounded by more empty bottles than he cares to count. He groans, rubbing his hand across his forehead and under the soft curls that have recently taken to falling into his eyes.
He stands, stretching absently and frowning as his bones crack horribly. If he’s going to drown his sorrows, he will do so in a bar, filled with other lonely losers who’ve spent their Christmas alone.
He rubs his eyes, fumbling his way to the front door and unlocking it, closing it softly behind him and twisting the key in the lock, before tucking the bundle into his pocket.
He turns, and immediately trips over the human sized lump on his front porch. The very human sized, Alex shaped lump.
He nudges the older boy’s dozing form with his foot, progressively harder and harder until the blonde at his feet shudders awake.
He looks up, eyes wide for a second before standing and dusting himself off.
“And when were you planning on telling me you were here?” Zack asks, almost accusingly as he folds his arms over his chest.
“I tried knocking, about, uh, three hours ago. You didn’t answer, so I guess I just fell asleep. Where are you going?”
“Downtown, not that it’s of any relevance to you.”
Alex frowns, because he didn’t expect Zack to still be mad at him.
“I made it back, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but you’re a day late. It’s the twenty-sixth, if you hadn’t realized.” Zack snaps, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning to leave.
“So that’s it? I miss Christmas by nineteen hours and you’re just going to walk away?”
Zack swallows, blinking to dispel the tears he’s not quite done crying yet.
“Do you want to know how I spent my Christmas? In a car, driving across the country so I could come and find you. Convince you that maybe, just maybe I was worth it. Does that even mean anything to you?”
Zack bites at his lip and turns back to Alex. What he doesn’t expect is for the elder to be quietly crying, trying to compose himself.
“I’m sorry, okay? There was nothing I could do. I got back Christmas Eve morning and left again almost as soon as I saw your note. I’m sorry.” Alex’s shoulders slump and he pinches the bridge of his nose in what even he knows is a pathetic attempt to stop the tears.
But then he opens his eyes and Zack is right there, arms around him and hugging him tight, pressing a kiss to his forehead and whispering ‘I’m sorry’ into his ear.
And maybe, maybe everything’s going to be okay.
He chooses to forget about the square, velveteen purple box pressing against his thigh, because it’s not the day he thought it would be.
But maybe tomorrow just might be.