58

It's the day.

Jason's big game is only hours away; it's nine A.M. and Winston's holding onto Jason's hands as they stand still in Jason's dorm. The sun is only barely rising, the moon cover thick and heavy in the sky, the winter chill distinguishable even inside. Jason's hands are trembling, his sock-clad foot tapping on the floor, and Winston squeezes Jason's hand once, then lets go and steps back.

Instantly, Jason goes right back to pacing.

Winston settles on the bed so he's out of the way, the ideal pacing path already cleared out in the room; chair have been carefully placed so they don't disturb him, laundry has actually been tossed in the proper laundry baskets, and blankets have been removed from the floor.

It's no longer a tripping hazard, so Winston just sits back and watches Jason.

So far, Jason hasn't spoken a word the whole day.

They woke up together in Jason's bed--thankfully there aren't any rules about fellow students staying the night in dorms that aren't theirs (but people who don't go to their college absolutely aren't allowed to) but Winston still sort of expects a dorm manager to walk in and toss him out.

But they woke up in bed, together, and Winston watched Jason's eyebrows furrow and his mouth downturn, and Jason's hasn't really relaxed since.

"Do you want to listen to some music?" Winston asks after awhile, not really worried but starting to grow slightly concerned. Jason has been pacing for a while now, and Winston has never seem him do it for so long before. A few minutes here and there, yes, but only because the whether was dreadful and Jason couldn't go for his run outside.

Jason shakes his head. He still does not speak, and Winston doesn't try to make him. Merely says, "Is it okay if I listen to the new episode of Unholy Ground?" Jason nods, so Winston adds, "Do you want me to use the headset?" A second nod.

So Winston puts on the headset, scoots around until he's lying on his back, and turns on the newest episode. Unholy Ground is a horror gaslamp fantasy thing, and it's only got three episodes out so far--including this new one. Winston isn't entirely sure where it's going yet; the vibes are kind of all over the horror place, but he's digging it and has already listened to the first two episodes five times so. Suffice to say, he's interested.

Thirty minutes later, the episode ends, Winston's heart in the pit of his throat. He exhales, shakily, and licks his lips, the remnant of the otherworldly suspenseful music still lingering in his ears.

Jason is still pacing.

Sitting up, he pulls off his headset and places it in his lap, fingering the long chord. Watching Jason turn at the end of the room, a graceful spin on his heel, Winston parts his lip and takes a second to formulate his thoughts. He doesn't want to interrupt whatever Jason is doing; whether it's a pregame ritual, a coping mechanism, or something else.

"Do you want me to go so you can have some alone time?" Winston asks. It's telling, he thinks, that neither Terry or the mysterious third roommate that he's never met is here.

Jason looks at him, but doesn't stop walking. His eyebrows furrow, and his lips press together, eyes staring out the window as he thinks. Finally, he nods.

Winston smiles. "Alright," he says, standing and putting Jason's headset back where he found it. He grabs his phone and deposits in his pocket, cranking his neck a little to get rid of the stiffness. He takes a step towards Jason, careful to still stay out of the pacing path.

"I'll be at the family section with Ryder," he says, even though they both already know this. Jason still nods, so Winston adds on, "Text me any time. Or call, okay?"

Jason nods again.

Winston puffs up his cheeks for a second, then lets the breath go in a gentle exhale through his nose. Jason's curly hair is flopping over his forehead, fluffy and thick thanks to the recent wash, and Winston's eyes track the strands. Then he gather his self-control and pats his hands on his shirt.

"I'll be there during the game, and after, and it's okay if you don't want to talk to me at any time. If you don't even want to be here. Just let me know so I don't accidentally hurt you."

"Really?" is the first word Jason has said all done, and his voice is hoarse, nearly inaudible. He's still pacing, but he's eyes are actually on Winston this time.

"Yeah," says Winston, shrugging. "Really."

Jason stops. He shudders, hands clenching, and his gaze trips between the floor and Winston. Winston's heart is already melting, and he's not very surprised when he takes a step forth, holding out his hands, and when Jason grips them, Winston's heart squeezes tight.

"Really," Winston repeats, a whisper more than anything else. Jason's staring at him, wide-eyed, and Winston leans forth, Jason's nearly falling into his embrace. The hug is tight, and Winston nuzzles Jason's shoulder, feeling Jason tremble in his grip, and so Winston drags his hands over Jason's back, up and down and up again.

"Yeah," breathes Winston into Jason's neck. And Jason nods, his inhale audible, his chest expanding against Winston.

Winston lets go. He looks up at Jason, smiles, and leans up on his toes. Jason meets him so he can press a quick, chaste kiss to Jason's lips, and then Winston is down on his feet again.

"See you soon," says Winston, smile growing. He snags his bag on the way out, slinging it over his shoulder as the door shuts behind him. Stopping, he tilts his head back and stares at the ceiling for a long moment.

The door is thick enough he can't hear anything through it, but he thinks Jason has probably started pacing again.

Biting his lip, Winston walks down the stairs, grabbing his phone only when he's back at the entrance level. He unlocks it, pulling up the latest conversation with Gary and flicking through the messages. Gary's sent him two new memes since he last looked, and his lips tick up into a smile. He snorts as one more is sent while he watches, and quickly types out his appreciation.

Gary sends back a blushing emoji, and Winston's chest warms. He looks up at Jason's window while he passes below it, but he can't inside through the heavyset snowfall, so he merely holds a hand over his phone to protect the screen while he types with his other thumb.

I'll be there soon, he sends Gary, and merely gets a thumbs up emoji in return. Winston snorts again, shoving his phone in his pocket and quickly pulling on his mittens before his fingers grow blue, then shoving his hands in his armpits for good measure.

He shudders, nose wrinkling as the cold wind stabs his exposed cheeks. The scarf and the hat do their best, but it's no perfect, and he's a freezing mess as he ambles onward on what little of the paths are actually identifiable with all the snow.

Shivering, he gazes up at the sky. The trees dotting the campus are all bare now, thin branches reaching high for the stars, but snow has clumped on those branches, and he is beset by the urge to stare. So he does, greedily swallowing the image and trying to imprint it in his mind.

He would take a picture, but he doesn't think his hands will survive another go without the mittens.

Shivering, a burst of wind strikes him particularly viciously, and his gaze flicks up to the sky beyond the trees. In the distance, he can see a tiny bit of sky not covered by the pale gray clouds; a mellow blue vaguely lit up by the sun.

It's a beautiful winter day.