CHECK, PLEASE! Short Stories

Pretty as a Picture

Summary: 

He didn't say anything, just let him cry. He needed to, Jack understood that feeling well.

Crying was a necessary part of healing.  

Warning: Panic Attacks 

Published: 14/5/17

Words: 2,655

Pretty as a picture

  Jacks love of photography started in high school, when he worked on the yearbook committee. He started out just because he needed something to do afterschool that looked good in resumes, but quickly got promoted to a photographer, taken on as an apprentice of the senior who was in charge of photography.
After Rachel left, he was put in charge of photography, which made a lot of the upperclassmen angry, as he was only a sophomore. But they quickly realized why he was put in charge- he was good at what he did.
That was the year he got his first fancy camera from his mom, so he didn't have to borrow the schools. He spent the entire summer taking pictures, when he wasn't on the ice. He quickly became known as the best yearbook photographer since Theodore Fin (graduation year: 1984). Then he became much more than the yearbook photographer. The art teacher got in touch with him, and asked if he wanted to start displaying his art in the hallways. He said yes, and his photography got displayed in the art hallway, even though he didn't take any art classes.
He got small jobs taking pictures for big events, and not just for the newspaper. He took prom and homecoming pictures for couples. He took senior photos for people. His dads friend even hired him to take pictures at their wedding. He was good.
His junior year he had a falling out with his father when his dad told him he needed to focus more on hockey than what he had been, so he stopped with the photography for a while.
His art teacher told him he could've gotten a scholarship to some big art colleges on his photography, if he had taken an art class or two with her. The only reason he didn't was disapproval from his dad, who wanted him to get a scholarship from Hockey.
He was good enough at hockey to get a full ride to almost any college of his choice. He had been the team captain for two and a half years, since his last team captain broke his leg, and couldn't play hockey anymore.
So he quit yearbook. He quit putting his photography up. He focused on hockey. He got a full ride scholarship to play hockey at Samwell. He didn't think about photography again until his Sophomore year of college, when Lardo commented on a picture of the snow he took on her phone during a winter practice.
She suggested that he take a photography class with her next year.
He didn't think much of it, it was just one photography class, one for beginners at that, and he knew most of that stuff already.
Then his junior year started, and he met Eric R. Bittles.
---
Bittles showed up to their first practice of the season with a pecan pie, and a cute southern accent, looking fresh out of middle school. He was easily the shortest guy on the team, the only person who came close to his height was Shitty, who was still 5 inches taller than the new kid.
"How in the world did he get recruited?"
"He was captain of his high school team for like 2 years. And he's won awards in ice skating. He's small, fast. And good on his feet. Honestly, we need someone like him on our team."
"Not if he has a panic attack every time someone even thinks about checking him."
"What if-"
"What?"
"You could help him out?"
"What do you mean by that?"
"Take time to give him extra checking practice. It'll be good for him. It'll be good for you too."
"I'll... I'll talk to coach, but yeah, that's a good idea.
---
"Up and at' em, sunshine." Jack opened the door to Bittle's dorm without knocking.
"What the- do you know what time it is?"
"4am precisely. C'mon, get a shirt on, we've got work to do." Bittle sighed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, grabbing a shirt off the floor and throwing it on. Ya know, when I heard you say you'll be giving me extra practice in the mornings, I assumed these would take place at a semi-normal time?"
"Do you want to be on this team or not, Bittles?" He didn't respond. The tension between the two of them was awkward, and Jack knew it was his fault.
But the new kid was so damn pretty, and Jack was so damn bad with words.
---
"What the hell are you doing? No, stop right there, stop it."
"Jack, I told you I can't. I just can't."
They had been at this for weeks, and the first games were just around the corner. If Bittle's didn't overcome this roadblock of his, he would no longer be on the team. Jack didn't want that for him.
He tried to think of what he could do. It must be a mental thing for him, like my anxiety. He has anxiety when it comes to checking. Jack tried to think of ways he overcame his anxiety.
"Um, Bittle, can you come here?" Jack gestured towards the space next to him, and Bittle skated over, standing next to him?
"Yeah?" He asked nervously.
"Why are you so afraid?"
The small blond boy from Georgia was not prepared for that question. "I- I'm not sure."
"We're done then. For today. Tomorrow morning come here with an answer."
---
The sun was rising the enormous glass windows in the Faber rink, turning the ice a multitude of colors. Jack sat, mesmerized by the light, and waiting for Bittle, who was late.
"I know. I mean, I always knew, but I figured- "He stopped himself, sighing. "I have the answer, Jack."
Jack turned his head, using his hand to block out the sun. Bitty looked like an angel, with the way the light came in around. "What is it?"
Bittle sat down next to him. "When I first started hockey, I was on the pee-wee team,"
Jack laughed. "pee-wee?"
"That's what they call toddler sport teams down south! Well Coach- my father- decided he was gonna be the coach, and he treated us 6 year olds like we were in high school football. I was terrified of getting hurt- of him hurting me. Then, uh, one time it did happen. During a practice, Coach was showing me how to check, and I messed up, and he got real mad at me, a 6-year-old, and insisted on showing me the right way. I ended up nearly snapping my arm in half and needed surgery."
"So, you're afraid because you broke your arm when you were a kid?"
"It's more than that, Jack. Every time I see someone coming towards me, I remember being a kid, and seeing my dad, and I get scared."
Jack wasn't sure what to say, he had prepared himself just to be hearing that he was just scared of getting hurt. "How are you and your dad now?"
Bittle shrugged. "I mean. We're different people."
"Bitty," Jack put his hand on Bittles shoulder. "I know it's hard for you, but you're older now, and your dad isn't here, and I can teach you how to defend yourself. Wanna try again?"
There was a moment of silence before Bitty nodded. "Yeah, I do."
They walked down to the rink and tried again, but the second Jack got close to him, Bittle freaked out and fell on the ice.
"Bittle? Bitty." Jack skated over to where he was lying on the ice, curled in the fetal position. "Are you okay?"
Bitty was sobbing quietly onto the ice.
"Hey, what's wrong?" He sat down, placing his hand on his shoulder. He didn't say anything, just let him cry. He needed to, Jack understood that feeling well.
Crying was a necessary part of healing.
---
Jack sat on the porch of the house with his camera, frustrated with his photography class. They were learning about how viewpoints and filters, and how they could change the mood of the photo, and their assignment of the week was to take five pictures of the same thing, and make each of them a different mood or feeling.
He pulled out his phone and sent Lardo a message, 'what are you doing for photography?'
'I can't tell you. You'll steal my idea :p.' She responded almost immediately.
'oh, come on I wouldn't do that. I just need inspiration.'
'Hint: come up with the 4 emotions first. Then find something that portrays all 4 emotions.'
Jack tried to think about 4 emotions he felt often.
Distant. He stared at the blue paint on the siding, remembering his first year here, before his overdose, before he really felt like part of the team. He still didn't feel completely like part of the team; he knew he was but sometimes he felt so... apart.
Overwhelmed. His career, having to live up to the expectations set by his father.
Vulnerable. Sitting in the hospital for weeks, months.
But then he heard laughter from the Haus, and he couldn't help but smile. He remembered all the times he and shitty wrestled, or being forced to watch ridiculous movies. He remembered being happy here. Playfulness.
The sound of bitty chewing out the boys from the kitchen, the smell of pie coming from the open window. He was ready for his future. Eager.
He backed onto the street with his camera, taking a picture of just the roof, the chair set up for Shitty to suntan. The sky was blue in the background. Contrasting with the dark roof, but pulling in the colors from the Shitty's blue chair. He adjusted the color to make it duller, touching up the photo to remind him of what it felt to be distant.
He took another photo of the messy yard, with part of the porch in the background. Leaves sat in piles, untouched. A couple of beer bottles, a broken rake. The colors were everywhere, he hated it. Bright, but dull and dark, light, but empty. Overwhelmed.
He took his third picture of the empty porch, cracked and warn, the paint peeling away, like peeling back every layer of himself. It was vulnerable, and so was he.
But he knew there was more to his story. He took a picture of the tire swing, hanging from the tree. His first good memory from his freshman year, was falling off the tire swing while Johnson was pushing him (they were both somewhat intoxicated.) They laughed about that for months, even though it wasn't that funny. It reminded him of playful times with his team.
And finally eager. He stood on the opposite sidewalk, trying to get a picture that represented eager. He wasn't getting the picture he wanted. At least, not until Bitty poked his head out the window, smiled and waved. Jack just so happened to take a picture at that moment.
"Hey, you ruined my picture!" He yelled at the boy.
"Sorry!" He laughed playfully, sticking his head back inside.
Jack smiled, staring at the picture. Eager. He was so eager for what was ahead for him.
---
"For your final project you'll be using the idea from your last project. Take your favorite photo that you took, your favorite emotion, and expand on it." The professor pointed to one of the projects. "Why are you ecstatic, why are so in love, why are you so eager?'
---
"Are you taking pictures of Bitty?"
Jack held his fingers against his lips to tell Lardo to be quiet. They stopped and watched Bitty making pie in the kitchen, talking to himself.
He sighed, staring at the oven. "C'mon, Betty, you gotta have some life left in ya." He pulled out the pie, which looked perfectly fine to Jack.
"Now that's a sight to make baby Jesus cry." He set it down on the table, staring at it in frustration.
Jack walked into the kitchen, camera in hand.
"Another pie?"
"fraid not. The oven burned it, so it's going in the trash."
"What?! Are you serious that looks amazing! It smells amazing too!"
' "No? Look, the edges are almost brown. Not gold. The inside will have gotten too hot, and it'll be all burnt-"
"Hey, Bitty? Jack interrupted
"Yeah?"
"Are you okay, you ramble when somethings wrong."
"Yeah, I just-"
"Bitty."
"I noticed you taking pictures of me? What was that about?" he said very quickly.
"Oh, that. Um. Well for my photography class, I'm doing some pictures of..." He stopped before he said too much. "The Haus. And like, how it makes me feel. This semester is a lot about capturing feelings, so... I'm taking pictures of everyone."
"Oh, that makes more sense." He laughed awkwardly.
"Yeah, the thing is it was gonna be a surprise for everyone at the end of this season, like I'll give everyone the photos I took. So can you keep it a surprise?"
"Yeah, alright. I'll do that." There was a strange tension in the air.
"I'll, uh, leave you to your baking."
He left the kitchen, and walked into the living room where Lardo was waiting for him on the coach.
"You're such a liar." She laughed.
"What in the world are you talking about?"
"What you said to Bitty in there. Your such a liar."
"Well what do you think the truth is."
"Bitty is the center of your project."
"Oh, uh, yeah. That's it." He sighed relief. God, if she knew.
"Jack?" She wrinkled her eyebrows. "What else did you lie about?"
Jack didn't respond, not really sure what to say. Lardo knew him well, well enough to know when he was lying. He just that there until Lardo got the point.
She gasped. "Jack! Do you..." She gestured for him to come closer. "do you like Bitty?" she said it like some sort of secret, but not like a secret to be ashamed of. She treated it as if a guy had a crush on a girl.
Jack blushed and buried his head.
"AHHH Jack that's so cute."
"I don't think he likes me though."
Lardo sighed. "I could be your wing girl." She suggested.
"How?"
"I could just talk to him and subtly mention you and stuff. I could go do it right now." She didn't even give him a chance to speak before she got up, and walked to the kitchen.
Jack died of embarrassment and avoided Bitty for the rest of the night.
---
"We're gonna be late for practice!"
"Tell me again why you were late." Jack grumbled.
"Well, I couldn't just let my pies burn, could I?"
"You're kidding, right?"
"Well, what's your excuse?"
"I had to stay in the photography lab after class!"
"Alright, mister 'hockey-before-anything-else'." Bitty chirped at Jack.
"You're ridiculous."
"That's not what I would call it." He pouted.
Jack stopped and turned towards the smaller boy. "What would you call it?"
"Amusing. Witty. Comical." He began to list adjectives for funny. "Humorous. Hilar-" But before he could finish, Jack cut him off.
With a kiss.
He put his hands on Bitty's cheeks, and leaned down, gently putting his lips on Bitty's. The blond seemed surprised at first, he didn't react for a few seconds, but began to kiss him back, wrapping his arms around Jack, and standing on his tiptoes.
They both pulled away at the same time, but took each other's hands. Bitty's face was red, and couldn't help but giggle.
"C'mon, Mister Zimmermann, we're gonna be late for practice."
---
"So I was your final project." Bitty realized, seeing the pictures of himself laid out, with a caption below it that said; wanting to do or have something very much'
"Yeah." Jack sighed, the truth finally getting out.
"Oh dear goodness, that's adorable." He tugged on Jack's sleeve. "Your so cute, you know?"
"Well bitty, you're the one who's pretty as a picture."