Chapter Text
Fall 2014
The first time Jack notices it, they're coming off the ice after a rough and tumble shift his senior year. They had been playing hard and Coach Hall was going to let them rest for maximum five minutes before they had to go back out and play their best.
If Jack was anything when he was playing hockey, he was focused and he was observant. He noticed the scrunched up look on Bittle’s face and the way he kept bringing his gloves to his temples. Most times he would have brushed it off, but he knew his teammate was recovering from a concussion, and what if he had taken a hit to the head, and all of this was his responsibility and-
“Bittle. Your head okay?” He tossed back some water and cracked his neck.
“What?” Bittle flinched, caught off guard. “I’m fine, a headache is all.” Jack held out his water bottle and Bitty took it without making eye contact.
“Didn’t hit your head?” Jack asked. If you were listening really hard, you might have heard just the edge of softness creep into his voice.
“Jack, if I'd've hit my head, you would’ve seen it,” Bitty replied, stern in a way he usually wasn’t. He passed Jack his water bottle back and sighed. Jack watched as he wandered over to Lardo and put his head on her shoulder. He saw them whispering to each other, noticed Lardo scribble something into her game notebook and squeeze Bitty’s hand.
They got back in the game just a few minutes later, and Jack refocused on the hockey, but he wasn't able to shake the nagging worry. Bitty moved the same as always on the ice. They had the game locked down, the other team couldn’t get anywhere.
They won 3-0 and Jack would have been a lot happier about it if Bitty hadn’t left immediately after the post-game.
Not because he wanted to hang out with Bittle and his stupid cute face. Just because he was worried.
Spring 2015
It’s easier to spot something once you’re looking for it, and once he was looking for Bitty’s headaches, he saw that they happened more often than he’d have guessed.
At practice, in class, over dinner, at parties. Especially at parties.
Jack had drunk half the warm beer in his red plastic cup. It was more something to hold onto than something to drink. He was hanging back because he’d been talking to Bittle but then Bittle had been dragged into dancing by someone Jack vaguely recognized. Maybe the girl Chowder was dating.
They were only a few feet apart but Jack missed his company.
He noticed it then, how Bitty was shrinking back from the dance floor, holding his head. He stumbled and Jack caught him by the arm like it was a reflex.
“Let’s get some air, eh?” Bitty nodded, then winced. They moved past the people drinking, dancing, and talking out to the front porch of the Haus, blessedly empty. Jack sat down on the steps and Bitty followed.
“Headache again?” Jack asked. Bitty hummed and let his head come to rest in his hands.
“Again?” He replied, his voice more exhausted then Jack had ever heard it.
“I’ve noticed- since the Brown game last semester-”
“Before you say anything or lecture me about my health. Yes, I have been to a doctor. Yes, Murray and Hall know. Yes, I am safe to play. Alright?!” He sounded upset but didn’t move an inch. Jack was at a loss for words. Did Bitty really think he would be angry about this? Was that still the picture of Jack in his mind? The demanding, mean captain who only cares about hockey?
He reached over and put a hand on Bitty’s back. When he didn’t flinch away, Jack spoke.
“I wasn’t worried about hockey. I was worried about you. How can I help?” At that, Bitty turned his head. There were tears in his eyes.
“This is good. This, right here.” Jack moved closer, so they were sitting shoulder to shoulder, and put his arm gently around his teammate’s shoulders. He didn’t expect Bitty to lean into him the way he did. The exhaustion written in the slump of his shoulders betrayed that this was more than Jack understood. But he could sit quietly and listen to the wind with Bitty by his side.
Summer 2015
They were about 8 states apart when they first had a real conversation about it. Bitty had just gotten home from camp and God bless the little ones, but they were exhausting. He picked up the video call all sweaty and gross, much too tired to care. He sat down against the tree in his front yard grateful for the shade.
“Hey sweetpea,” he said once the video picked up. Jack was inside, and it was dark enough that he was a little hard to see with the glare from the Georgia sun. He squinted and turned up the brightness.
“Hey,” Jack said, a little smile on his face.
“I’m sorry I look a mess but it has been a truly wild day, let me tell you. This class will be the death of me, I am sure of it.” Jack laughed, but it came through the speaker tinny, not full and round like it was in person.
“Don’t worry about it. You’ve seen me look worse.”
“That I have, honey. That I have,” he giggled a little and pushed the hair out of his face. “Did you have something you needed to tell me? Not that I don’t love talking to you, but I kinda need a nap.”
“I do, actually,” the smile fell off Jack’s face and it made Bitty’s heart drop, “I wanted to talk about your head-”
“Jack-”
“Because I care about you and I realized that all of last year I never really asked. I want to know as much- I…” he trailed off. He looked away from the camera and was quiet. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Bitty took in a deep breath and squeezed his eyes tight shut. He didn’t know why, but it felt like a breaking point.
“What do you want to know?” He asked all in one breath.
“How often-” Bitty cut him off.
“Always. We don’t know when or if it’ll stop, but it’s been more than a year so it’s statistically unlikely. It fluctuates day to day and hour to hour. I have medication that I take when it gets really bad, but it doesn’t always work.”
“Sometimes I barely notice it. Sometimes I can’t move it hurts so bad. I’m just- I’m learning to live my life in pain. It sucks” He realized all at once that he hadn’t actually let Jack ask his questions. He looked back at the screen. The look in Jack’s eyes just about broke his heart.
“Bits,” he sighed, “I’m so sorry.” He drew away from the camera and rubbed his eyes. Bitty shook his head in disbelief, a little smile creeping back onto his face. This boy.
“Why in the world would you be sorry, Mr. Zimmerman? Because you called the play? Because I can tell you honestly and with my whole heart that none of this is your fault.”
“No, not that. Well, I guess that. But I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you sooner.” The video broke up as he said it. Bitty’s heart melted in his chest. He could barely see Jack on his phone screen, and he wanted nothing more right then than to kiss him.
“Oh. You…” It was all he could manage to say.
Fall 2015
Once, just after the semester started, he’d just gotten to bed at the end of an incredibly busy day when he got a phone call. His screen flashed on, lit up with a picture of Bitty, head thrown back in laughter.
“Bits,” he answered, “Everything alright?” He could hear his boyfriend softly crying on the other end of the line and it was awful. He could feel the pain and distress through the phone.
“I miss you.” Bitty’s voice crackled through his speakers. “My head hurts.”
“I know, bud, I’m sorry. I miss you too. Scale from one to ten?” He sat up in bed and turned on the light, blinking hard against the brightness. He imagined Bitty, curled up, alone in the dark and his heart clenched painfully.
“Nine? I don’t-” he finished the sentence with a heartbreaking sob. “Hurts.”
“I’m sorry, Bits. I’d take it away if I could. Is anyone there?” He glanced at the clock on his bedside table to confirm what he already knew. He wouldn't be able to get to Samwell and back before he had to be at the airport.
“No," he answered, quiet and small.
"Okay. Okay. I’m gonna text Lardo, alright? I just want someone to check on you."
"Yeah. I’m so tired, Jack." Bitty must have checked their shared calendar and known he couldn’t be there. He sighed and pulled up Lardo’s phone number.
Jack: Are you at the Haus?
Lardo: ye what’s up
Jack: Check on Bitty? Headache 9/10
Lardo: on it
“I just wish you were here. I hate this.”
"I know. I wish I was there with you, bud. But we’re gonna be okay." Jack heard Bitty’s door creak open and what sounded like someone picking up the phone. He sighed.
“Hey Jack," Lardo said. He heard blankets rustling and a soft whine from his boyfriend. “It’s alright, you’re okay Bitty,” she whispered, her voice uncharacteristically tender.
“Hey, Lardo.”
“Thanks for texting me. I got him, no sweat.” He couldn't say what he wanted to say. The 'I love you' and 'You're the strongest person I know.' So he said what he could.
"Got your back, Bittle." He hung up before he got an answer.
Spring 2016
They’d both been hoping that Spring Break in Providence would be more restful than it seemed it was going to be. Bitty had been working himself to the bone on his midterms and Jack was proud of that, but he got to the apartment and collapsed into bed.
Jack was laying with him in the dark, reading an e-book on his phone on its dimmest setting. Bitty was sprawled across him, his face pressed into Jack's stomach, his head burrowed under Jack's shirt. He couldn't move, exactly, not without disturbing his dozing boyfriend. Not that he wanted to. He was fully content to read his book and be a pillow for a while. His stomach growled.
“Jack,” he mumbled against the warm skin of his boyfriend’s stomach.
“Yeah, Bits?”
“You’re hungry.” He was more than a little mush-mouthed, but Jack got the gist.
“A little. You’re tired,” he replied, gently kneading the tight muscles in Bitty’s neck. Bitty made a little noise from the back of his throat.
“Dinner,” he responded after a minute, his eyelashes fluttering against Jack’s abs. He still hadn’t left the warm comforts of the tent he’d made from Jack’s shirt, and if anything his grip on his boyfriend’s leg tightened.
“I can order food if you want. Or not if it would make you nauseous again.”
“No, I… gotta cook. ‘S the whole point.” He poked Jack in the leg for emphasis. Jack smiled.
“Let me phrase it differently. Bits, do you want to get up and cook?” He shook his head. “Do you want me to get up and cook?” He shook his head more vigorously.
“Oww,” he moaned, realizing the dire consequences of moving too much. He moved Jack’s shirt off his face and only winced a little at the low light. But then there were Jack’s fingers in his hair and the light went away and everything was okay again.
“I’ll order us something. What will not make you throw up?”
“Soup,” Bitty replied, fighting the pull of sleep. His eyelids felt so heavy that he could ignore the pain and just focus on the feeling of Jack’s hands in his hair.
“I’m gonna turn my phone back on, keep your eyes closed.” Bitty nodded into his chest. The pain let up a bit and he couldn't tell if it was the meds finally kicking in or if he was just so happy.
“M’ gonna fall asleep,” he said muzzily. Jack laughed a little and he could feel it against his cheek.
“Okay, bud. I’ll wake you up when the food gets here.”