Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The four of them had only lived in the apartment together for two and a half weeks, and they were already bored. Turns out going from living out in the world, doing your own thing, to being thrust into an apartment with three other clashing personalities is not any easy adjustment. When they all arrived at the apartment, they had been excited about all the possibilities the path offered to them entailed, and they still were enamored by the prospects, but were now coming to realize what it all entailed, which included feeling trapped inside the mostly unfurnished home base.

Deciphering, laying out, and understanding the plan took all of eight days, and despite the intricacy of the plan presented to them, there was not much to do at the moment, other than laying low for a bit, practicing their individual acts together in order to form a singular, cohesive, whole. That was probably what was expected of them, however, practicing non stop would do them no good in the long run, even Atlas agreed. So, here they were, temporarily choosing boredom instead of over-exertion.

Normally, in dull moments such as these, Jack would be napping to let the time pass him by quicker, but he was still getting used to living in an apartment, let alone in an apartment with other people, other magicians, so he tried to avoid falling asleep in front of them. Instead of napping, Jack tried to throw his cards in patterns on the ceiling and walls. Unfortunately for him, Atlas seemed to be very invested in keeping said walls and ceiling in the apartment free of holes of any kind, so the only free game for Jack was the places where previous residents put nails. It took him half an hour to find a hammer to get the nails out their holes, and another half to get them all out. Then, after all that, it only took him 10 minutes to get bored of throwing the cards in the same place every. single. time. So, Jack had tried to read a book, but couldn’t get into it, and despite his best efforts, fell asleep anyway.

Jack was woken up from his catnap on the floor by Atlas, who nudged him with his foot unsympathetically, and Jack could clearly tell it had not been Atlas’s idea to wake him up.

“Get up, Henley is making us do ice breakers for ‘team bonding’ purposes.”

“Huh?”

“I said, Henley is having us do-”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.”

Atlas eyed him suspiciously “I didn’t even finish repeating myself.”

“Brain fog, Danny-O,” said Merritt as he walked from the kitchen to the living room with a bowl of chips, “you gotta let the words load for a second.”

“Don’t call me ‘Danny-O.”

Merritt donned a shit-eating grin. “Okay Danny.”

“Oh, he doesn’t like Danny either,” Henley grinned.

While the other three discussed the way they should all refer to Atlas, Jack got up from the floor and plodded over to where they were sitting, stealing a chip from Merritt while he was at it.

Jack, after a few minutes of letting them talk while he fully woke up, finally brought the conversation back to where it was intended to go. “Henley, what kind of icebreakers did you have in mind?”

“Well,” she started, “I think that music taste can say a lot about a person, so I thought we could share some of our favorite artists! What do you think?”

“I don’t see how music shows someone’s personality.”

“Ignore him. I think it’s a great idea, Hen. Hey, what does liking… I don’t know,” Merritt said while staring at Henley, “Britney Spears, Rihanna, and Destiny’s Child say about someone’s personality?”

“Okay, how did you even do that? That’s dead-on!” Henley’s face was filled with a wide grin, impressed with Merritt’s observation.

“He probably just heard the music coming from your room, no ‘mentalism’ involved.” Atlas had put mentalism in quotations for around the 30th time since they’ve met, still not buying a word that Merritt said about his observational skills.

“I haven’t even gotten to you yet, Danny boy.”

“Don’t call me Danny boy.”

“Too late, anyway,” Merritt looked at him for a minute, while Atlas attempted to keep a poker face. “I’m getting podcasts, because you just seem like that kind of guy, but for music…” Merritt trailed off for a second before dramatically gasping and acting scandalized. “Dandelion, you are, you are… still in your emo phase?”

His dramatics earned a chorus of laughter from both Jack and Henley, though Jack’s was less enthusiastic. Merritt continued on, listing off basic emo-phase bands.
“Panic! At the Disco? What’s your favorite song of theirs? Death of a Bachelor, I Write Sins Not Tragedies, This Is Gospel, High Hopes, who am I kidding, that’s no one’s favorite, Victorious, Nine in th- Victorious? I am not surprised, just disappointed.”

As Merritt continued with his assessment of Atlas’ music taste, the magician in question grew redder and redder, despite his best efforts to keep his cool, and Jack was starting to freak out too, and for good reason.

Jack had almost the textbook queer music taste, he listened to Nicki Minaj, Lady Gaga, and Ariana Grande. He listened to Conan Gray, The Neighborhood, Mitski, and Britney Spears. Jack loved everything from Taylor Swift to Lil Nas X, from Yungblud to Queen. But perhaps the most revealing of them all, was Cavetown, the key that would probably lead anyone who knew who he was to suspect Jack was trans. Jack isn’t good at brushing off direct accusations of being trans, so if he were asked about it, he knows it wouldn’t take a mentalist to see the truth.

Jack knew that if Merritt could get that good a read on Atlas, who had been one of the hardest for Merritt to consistently crack, he could definitely get a great read on Jack. And that was terrifying.

“Jack, it’s your turn!” Henley called, while still laughing.

Jack came back to reality quickly, seeing Atlas’s face remaining as red as a tomato, while Merritt turned to look at him closely, ready to start dissecting his music tastes. However, when he looked at Jack, he faltered slightly. Merritt looked like he recognized what Jack was feeling, scared. Before he could say anything, Jack spoke up.

“Sorry, I spaced out, what did Merritt say about Atlas’s tastes that’s got him so worked up?”

“See! He calls me Atlas, it’s not that hard.”

“Hey, no stalling Jack, that’s not fair!” Ah, so Henley also saw his hesitancy to be analyzed, that just left Atlas, who was still trying to make his blush go away, unsuccessfully, Jack noted.

He turned back to Merritt, who was still staring at him with that expression, the expression that said “Hey kid, I possess the powers to potentially expose the one thing you really don’t want people to know, and I can see you’re scared!” Jack couldn’t tell, however, whether Merritt was concerned or confused. But before he had the chance to think about which was worse, Merritt broke the silence.

“I’m getting some, Queen? Nice, classic. Uh… Green Day? Yeah, American Idiot is a gateway drug to punk, I swear.” If the others noticed Merritt holding back, they didn’t say anything, but Jack was beyond grateful as Merritt continued. “The Neighborhood? I should’ve known we would have had at least one indie enthusiast!”

Merritt was climbing in energy, and Jack was scared about what that might mean. Before continuing on, Merritt shot him a discreet, reassuring, nod. “Now don’t worry, Dan the man,” Merritt ignored his shout of protest and continued on, “I’ll give you some embarrassing stuff from ol’ Jackie here!”

Oh shit.

“Two words, Nicki. Minaj.”

Henley gasped dramatically, though clearly she was more excited than surprised. “I never would have guessed! Oh we definitely need to do a karaoke night soon.”

Atlas looked dismayed. “That’s not nearly as bad as what you said about me!”

“So you admit I was right?”

Atlas shut up in an instant, while Henley started talking even more.

“What’s your favorite song? Did you hear about her new single? What do you think about her newer stuff? It is so refreshing to talk to a guy who listens to her music, you have no idea.”

“Woah, hold on, let me breathe Henley! And before you ask again, Super Bass will always be superior, hell yeah I did, it’s still good, and I relate with you on that last part.” Upon seeing Henley’s enthusiasm is nowhere near satiated, Jack decides to redirect the conversation before he’s forever trapped. “Hey Merritt, what about you?”

“I’ll give it a go, it can't be that hard.”

“Those are fighting words, Danny-O.”

“Really? All out of Daniel mockeries already?”

“You try coming up with a new variation of someone’s name everytime you refer to them.”

“Whatever, I’m getting….” Atlas trailed off, staring at Merritt, trying to get a read, “rock. Definitely a rock guy.”

Henley scoffed. “Please, could you be any more vague than that?”

“I’d like to see you do better.”

“I don’t pretend to know how to read people on that level, but Jack could give it a shot, right Jack?”

Everyone was staring at him now. “Uh, I could try?”

“Do or do not, there is no try.”

“... did you just quote Yoda right before I tried to read you?”

“Yes, now hurry up, young padawan, I’m impatient.”

Jack leaned forward, staring at Merritt as Merritt had stared at each of them not minutes before. He tried to read Merritt’s expression, which looked very confident, if a little encouraging, which prompted him to just say the first thing that came to mind.

“Elvis.”

“Bravo!” Merritt stood up looking pointedly at Atlas, who looked positively enraged, not at Jack, at Merritt. Merritt started gesturing next to himself like he was a game show host. “Other possible answers included Queen, Elton John, and the Grateful Dead!”

Henley nodded in passive approval of his taste, while the mention of queer artists like Queen and Elton John did not pass over Jack’s head. Just how much had Merritt figured out?

Chapter Text

The year-long plan was finally picking up speed, and there was less downtime for them all, for better or for worse. Their small combo street acts were becoming popular with the New York City commuters, and they were gathering small crowds at their semi-regular shows on street corners and subway stations.

They had set-up a show in Central Park for this weekend, and were training non-stop to make sure they were prepared for any potential changes, such as rowdy audience members or a rogue gust of wind during card throws.

Speaking of card throws, that was what Jack wanted to work on, despite demonstrating time and time again that he was more than capable of throwing with accuracy in rain, storm, and shine.

Atlas, no, Danny, as even Jack was referring to him as after given many reasons to annoy him over the past two months, had insisted Jack learned to fight without the cards in case they were backed into a corner that they had to fight out of. So here Jack was, fighting with Merritt.

Jack had already faced off against Danny and Henley earlier, each posing more difficulty than the last as they rotated partners. Danny was their showman, the talker, the one with theatrics. Jack is quick on his feet, and was able to out maneuver Danny with ease, dodging his hits and landing several of his own, as long as he stayed focused. Henley was more difficult. She wasn’t as quick as Jack, but was still able to dodge most of his attacks. No surprise, considering that getting out of things was her speciality. Overall, they were a pretty even match for each other.

After all of that, Jack was starting to tire out. He had been going hard for over two hours with little break, and even though he was wearing a looser binder under his shirt and jacket, his chest was starting to hurt, and it was getting harder to catch his breath. So in his fights against Merritt, he wasn’t doing too well.

Exhaustion and breathing aside, Merritt was a good fighter. Sometime after his brother ran off with his money, Merritt had gone to prison for a year. The Horsemen didn’t ask why, figuring if it had anything to do with the money his brother had stolen they wouldn’t want to poke any sore spots. The year must have taught him some dirty fighting skills, because each of the Horsemen had gotten their asses handed to them, and Jack was no exception. No fighting skills he had picked up on the streets of New York held ground against what Merritt had.

Merritt’s win streak had left him cocky, and he had been lightly teasing his teammates when they started losing more, getting them riled up just to see them fight more savagely, get them angrier and give them more reason to fight him, because he was a dick.

“If you actually put power behind your punches you might land a good hit, for once.”

In frustration, Jack started throwing his punches with more reckless abandon, hoping that one of them would land through pure dumb luck. This only seemed to make Merritt amused at his futile attempts, because he laughed, then spoke up again as he landed a hard hit on Jack’s back, making the former stumble forward slightly.

“Jack, you’re throwing those punches like a girl.”

Jack froze. Merritt stilled when he saw that Jack stopped.

…

Danny and Henley had paused their fight when they heard Jack and Merritt stop theirs. All eyes were on Jack now, and he knew it.

…

like a girl?

Cold anger spread through Jack, eyes closed. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, but he knew that shouting with his emotions at the helm would only lead to outing himself. So, he took a deep breath, opened his eyes and spoke into the quiet stillness of the room.

“Don’t call me a girl.”

His tone was calm, more calm than he felt, but also laced with the sharp fury Jack felt. His volume had also been quiet, yet he knew that his fellow Horsemen had heard, if only based on the nearly visible tension he saw when he looked back up. Merritt was standing somewhere behind him, Danny looked more confused than anything, and Henley looked like she was about to ask him something. Before she could, however, Jack cleared his throat as though to declare that whatever had just happened was over and done with. He turned back to Merritt.

“Let’s get back to it.”

There was none of his usual enthusiasm in the words. Previously, Jack would have been eager to continue the fight, hoping that even if he didn’t win, he would improve enough to win the next time. But now, Jack seemed like he wanted this to end as quickly as possible. His tone wasn’t unenthusiastic in the sense that he was tired, though it was clear that he was, his lack of enthusiasm was more in the vein of “this is a chore that I want to finish as soon as possible, and I’m going to finish it quickly.” It was cold, what anyone other than maybe Merritt would classify as emotionless.

Jack’s cold anger shone through once he and Merritt picked the fight back up. Though he was obviously tired, and was still having slight trouble breathing, his moves became more calculated, and soon Merritt found himself on the defensive rather than the offensive. Rather than the anger clouding his mind as it had earlier, before the comment, this anger almost seemed to sharpen it. Meanwhile, Merritt’s mind was being distracted by what it could all mean, making him lose focus, causing more missed punches and less successful dodges. As their fight continued, it was clear that Jack had obtained the upper hand, until the fight ended.

Jack stood over where Merritt lay on the ground. Merritt was unhurt, just out of breath. The worst any of them would have later would be a nasty bruise, nothing bad. Jack walked over to the side of the room to gather his stuff from where it lay, while Henley followed him and Merritt got up from the floor.

“Hey, Jack?”

Jack said nothing in response, but glanced over at Henley to show her he had heard.

“Is everything okay? What happened back there?”

“... nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

Jack froze in his motions and breathed quietly.

“It’s nothing, Henley, okay?”

He finished gathering his things and left, leaving his teammates confused behind him. After a few minutes, they hear the shower turn on. Normally, they would hear a vague melody coming from the bathroom when Jack showered, never loud enough to discern it, but loud enough to tell Jack was singing. Today, they didn't hear a note.

Half an hour later, the three are sitting in their small living room when Jack comes out of the bathroom wearing the loose-fitting hoodie that sometimes replaces his usual leather jacket. His hair is still wet, and this would normally be the time Jack went into the kitchen and made his large lunch while talking about whatever was on his mind. Today, however, he went straight to his room, grabbing a half-eaten bag of chips from the counter as he did so.

Merritt tried to catch his attention, ask what was wrong, apologize. If Jack saw him move to begin talking, he didn't show it, nearly barreling down the hall to his room, not sparing anyone a second glance. They heard his door slam shut a moment later, then heard the complicated locks he had fixed to the other side of his door click into place one at a time.

None of them said anything, but the message was clear and hanging in the air for them all to see. Jack was upset, and didn't want anyone to bother him. This had happened a few times before, one of the three would say something in the heat of an argument, Jack would become cold and distant, do what he needed to do for the day, retreat to his room, and reemerge in an hour or two. If he was still upset, he would go out somewhere around dinnertime, and come back by 11, smiling with a bag full of chips, candy, wrappers, and other miscellaneous items. If asked, Jack would tell them all about what he got and did. If any of them tried to look in the opaque bag, he would snatch it away, but if they asked for a chip or candy Jack got, he would reach in and give it to them.

So, they waited for Jack to come out of his room. They waited an hour, then another, then another, then they became concerned. It had been three hours, Jack hadn't come out of his room to eat, get a drink, or even go to the bathroom. More than that, they hadn't heard a noise coming from his room the whole time.

Looking at the time on the wall, then at Henley, Merritt stood up from his spot on their semi-new couch, and made his way to Jack's room. Knocking on the door, Merritt called out.

"Hey Jack?"

... nothing, then a brief shuffle of fabric, most likely Jack getting out of his bed. Finally, he spoke up.

"Yeah?"

"It's almost four o'clock, have you eaten any lunch?"

"... I had some, yeah."

"Anything other than those chips?"

"I wasn't that hungry."

Jack's cold anger was starting to return to his voice, Merritt knew he needed to keep this short and sweet.

"You wanna come out and go with me to get some food before my 5 o'clock show in the train station?"

Jack figured he meant to come out of his room, not the metaphorically closet, but he could be wrong, it was impossible to know with Merritt.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Merritt paused for a moment, and decided to not push that question any further.

"I'm picking up some dinner from the Chinese place down the street on my way back, unless you have a different idea?"

Merritt hadn't discussed the decision with Danny or Henley but it was technically his turn to make dinner, and at least Henley wouldn't complain about his food choice in this situation. Danny would be a different story, but Merritt would cross that bridge when he got to it.

"No, Chinese is fine." It was Jack's favorite, so it was more than fine.

"Your usual order?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, I'll be back around seven."

... the silence from the other side of the door resumed.

Merritt walked back to the living room and before he could even ask, Henley tossed him one of Jack's opaque bags from the kitchen where she stood. He thanked her, grabbed his wallet from the counter, and walked out of the apartment.

"What's that all about?" Danny looked somewhat confused, even though his tone conveyed almost nothing but his usual disdainful sarcasm.

"He's getting some of Jack's snacks," Henley spoke in a hushed voice to make sure Jack couldn't hear, it was Merritt's surprise, not hers.

"Why? There's plenty of food."

Henley couldn't tell if Danny was feigning carelessness, or if he just didn't notice their youngest member was more upset than he normally was, so she just glared at him, then gave a pointed look toward Jack's room. Danny just stared back at her, then shrugged.

"Whatever, he's gonna have to come out eventually."

When Merritt returned a few hours later, the opaque bag was full, and he carried another bag with the Chinese food he bought. Merritt started chatting with Henley, who helped him get all the food set-up, leaving the bag of Jack's favorite snacks on the counter in full view.

A few minutes later, when the three of them were already sitting at the table, Jack emerged from his room hunched over in a hoodie they were all vaguely familiar with. It was frayed at the sleeves, and had stray threads poking out of the seams. It looked warm, and quite comfortable despite the age of it. In the cold of winter, it made sense, but the apartment was well heated. The most important detail, however, was the size of the hoodie. Jack was a men's medium, maybe a large. The sweatshirt hung off of Jack in an almost comical fashion, prompting a small fit of giggles from Henley the first time she saw it, which made Jack even more upset than he was. That incident led the other three Horsemen to correctly assume that Jack only wore the hoodie as a form of comfort for when he was upset.

No one said anything about the sweatshirt as Jack passed by to get to the bathroom. When Jack came back out, he was still in the hoodie, but his posture noticeably improved when he saw the bag of snacks on the kitchen counter. Upon seeing this development, Danny decided Jack was better enough to resume being an asshole to him.

"Told you he would stop moping about the girl thing eventually."

Jack turned to face Danny, any of the joy on his face drained in less than a second. Merritt and Henley could tell that any ground they had gained with getting Jack to be open with them was lost with the comment Danny had made.

The three of them didn't say anything as Jack grabbed the bag of snacks, thanked Merritt for the food, found his box of chinese in the pile on the table, took a pair of chopsticks, and left to his room again.

Merritt finally spoke up again.

"Jack, wait!"

They had heard Jack's door open, but not close. Jack, however, was out of their sight.

"Come sit with us while we eat!"

The door shut, but only one of the locks clicked. All eyes turned to Danny, fixing their glare upon him. He started eating. The other two kept glaring at him. Danny rolled his eyes like a sullen teenager, but couldn’t ignore their gaze. He dropped his chopsticks into the box he was eating out of.

“What?”

“You’re being a dick,” Henley stated simply, “the comment Merritt made earlier clearly hit him hard, it’s probably a sore subject.”

“So? Merritt was the one who said it, not me.”

“Yeah, but at least I’m not making fun of him for expressing his anger how he needs to. And I bought him food as an apology, ‘cause I know that the kid likes to eat his sorrows.”

“... whatever.”

Anyone other than someone who knew him well and someone who was good at reading people would watch Danny eat and assume that he was annoyed at being pestered for his words. But the two who were watching him knew that he was annoyed for an entirely different reason, he was in the wrong, and he knew it. Danny hated being proven wrong, and like it or not, he was starting to care about the emotional well-being of his compatriots. So, his annoyance was not at being pestered, or even at the fact that he was wrong (though that was part of it), it was that he had hurt someone he cared for in his carelessness.

Danny cared, and he didn’t like that, so he feigned aloofness all through the quiet dinner. Neither Merritt nor Henley needed to know that after dinner, when the two had left for their own rooms for the night, Danny stayed behind in the living room, just in case Jack decided to come out of his room. They also didn’t need to know that, when he eventually decided to retire to his own room, Danny took a fortune cookie from his pocket and put it in front of Jack’s door, knocking just loud enough for Jack to hear if he was awake, then closing his own door, content without acknowledgement for once.

Chapter Text

Henley liked to take morning runs, which was fine. What was not fine, was the fact that she would constantly bug her fellow Horsemen into joining her.

Danny would put up a fight when asked, but would occasionally concede, coming back to the apartment significantly more tired than Henley. If anyone (namely Merritt) mentioned this, Danny would argue that Henley has longer legs, and therefore has less work to do when running. He especially disliked being called out when it was followed with a comment along the lines of “Hey Danny boy, maybe if you ran more, you would last more than 3 minutes.”

Merritt is a decent runner, proven every time he makes a comment about Danny’s endurance and is subsequently chased around the apartment for a few minutes. He has the advantage of knowing where his pursuer will go before he makes the moves to do so, but Merritt is also surprisingly quick, “for someone his age,” in the words of Danny. Jack assumed that he likely got his practice running from angry spouses, partners, family members, and other such “clients” of his demonstrations.

Jack was fast, the other Horsemen figured that out not long after meeting him. He had to be fast, having his own share of “unsatisfied customers” in street/boat shows. Jack was fast, but breathing quickly becomes an issue when binding. He wasn’t supposed to exercise in his binder, so that he wouldn’t injure his chest, but he sure as hell was not going to workout in front of other people without it on.

Unfortunately, the weather was beautiful, and when asked if he wanted to go for a run before he was fully awake, Jack didn’t think before saying yes. Henley had similarly tricked Merritt and Danny into agreeing.

It wasn’t hot by any means, but it would quickly get too warm for a hoodie when exercising, so Jack would only afford himself a slightly looser binder under a thin zipper jacket. Even that small concession didn’t help much, and a few minutes into their run, Jack was breathing heavily, barely keeping up with the others.

“Woah, Jack, we need to get you running more. How are you gonna outrun the police if you can’t even keep up a jog for,” Henley checked her watch as she slowed down, “5 minutes and 13 seconds.”

“At least- at least it’s longer than three minutes,” Jack managed to wheeze out, stopping to catch his breath along with Henley, Danny, and Merritt, putting a hand on his chest where it was starting to hurt. Ignoring a sound of protest from Danny, Jack continued. “I- I was fine- I was still going.”

“One would think that the youngest would have the most endurance, considering he’s also the most spry.”

“Spry?”

“Yeah,” Merritt said, “it means you’re energetic, Jackie-boy.”

“I know- what it means.”

“So,” Henley asked, why do you run out of breath so quickly? Oh, is this why you don’t normally come running with me?”

Put on the spot, Jack didn’t really have anything to go off of other than steadying his breathing and the pain in his chest that he was trying to ignore. It really didn’t help that they were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, where any revelations would be heard by passersby.

“I- have breathing- issues.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Asthma?”

Jack did not have asthma, but he knew another kid from his time on the streets that did, and they said that while they didn’t get attacks anymore, they still had trouble breathing sometimes. Jack made a mental note to thank his friend when he saw them next, and gave the Horsemen his half-baked story.

“Used to, went away after middle school. I guess my lungs didn’t bounce back all the way.”

“Where’s your inhaler?”

“Don’t have one anymore.”

“Then how are you gonna outrun the cops?”

“Gotta go fast, Hen.”

“You’re not Sonic, Jack. What if they outrun you?”

“I go quicker.”

“And if they outlast you?”

“I power through and look for a hidey hole.”

And take off his binder, if he still had one on.

“And if you can’t?”

Jack knew that he wouldn’t be wearing a binder when they were on the run, but he couldn’t tell Henley that, yet.

“I’ll get an inhaler, okay?”

“Good. Shall we continue then?”

“If he can keep up for longer than 10 minutes.”

Jack had planned on just continuing the run, but when Danny made that comment, Jack knew he needed to be a little bit of a dick, just to get his own attention off his breathing. So, ignoring the strange look that Merritt was giving him (has he said anything since calling him spry? Jack couldn’t remember), he took Danny’s phone out from his pocket, waved it in front of his face, and in a near perfect impersonation of Henley’s voice-

“At least I can keep it up for more than 3 minutes, Daniel!”

Jack took off, Danny right behind him.

“You little shit! You are worse than Merritt sometimes.”

Henley started laughing, fixed her gloves, then followed at a brisk pace. Merritt was more hesitant, still wearing the expression no one could place.

~~~

Jack took a long shower that morning, cleaning the sweat from the run off his body, then cleaning his hair.

I should get it cut again soon.

He liked having his hair short, it helped to assure him that he was Jack, no one else. Speaking of no one, that’s who was home, other than Jack. Danny and Henley had a meeting with a theater a few neighborhoods over, setting up the show that would secure the attention of one Arthur Tressler. Merritt had not told anyone where he was going, Jack realized when shutting off the water. He needed to get an inhaler, if only to quell the worries of Henley. Jack also suspected Danny was worried, but was unsure if the concern was for him or the plan.

When he got out of the shower, Jack dried his hair first, then his stomach. He took his testosterone out from the small bag he had with his other shower things, and applied the gel to the dry area on his abdomen while humming along to the music coming from his speaker.

After drying the rest of his body off and letting the testosterone absorb into his skin, Jack got dressed, leaving his binder off for the time being.

When Jack got to his room, he heard the front door open, followed by the sound of metal on the kitchen counter.

“Jack? Ya home kid?” Merritt’s voice rang out into the mostly empty apartment.

“Uh, yeah?”

“You don’t sound so sure of yourself there, bud!” The sounds of movement in the kitchen did not stop as Merritt continued to yell. “You want some lunch? I’m making enough quesadillas to feed half of the building so that Lieutenant Dan won’t complain about us not saving him enough!”

Something none of the Horsemen expected, considering how often he ordered take-out, was how good of a cook Merritt was. Henley was pretty good, too, but Merritt had plenty more experience than her. Jack was decent with cutting and mixing, and could watch a griddle if needed, but he was garbage at following a recipe, and even worse with trying to make a meal without one. Danny wasn’t even allowed to step foot in near the stove, Henley insisting he had nearly burnt down his apartment trying to make spaghetti when they worked together before. No one was tempted to find out if she was exaggerating or not, so the cooking was left to Merritt and Henley, with Jack occasionally acting as sous chef.

Jack knew first hand how delicious those quesadillas were, eating half of the stack last time they were made.

“Hell yeah I want quesadillas!”

“Okay, 10 minutes!”

Jack looked down at his chest, debating whether or not he should put on a binder when he promised himself a rest, or put on a hoodie now that it was slightly hotter than before. He settled on the binder before walking into the kitchen. His chest was starting to hurt again, but his pain went ignored when he could smell the food on the griddle.

A stack of completed quesadillas was forming on a plate in the center of the counter. Jack grabbed another plate from the cupboard and went to sit down, grabbing a hot one off the top of the stack. Merritt laughed when Jack recoiled his hand.

“They’re fresh.”

“I noticed, ouch.”

Jack got a quesadilla on his plate, then sat down at the counter.

A couple of painfully hot bites in, Jack noticed a white paper bag on the counter, one of the ones that the pharmacy gives you prescriptions in. He looked at Merritt inquisitively, who shrugged.

“Open it.”

Jack looked at the bag, then back to Merritt, slowly wiped his hands off on a random nearby towel, and reached for it.

Inside of the bag was a box, a playing card, and a slip of paper. Before Jack could look further at what it was, Danny and Henley walked into the apartment. Merritt quickly leaned over towards Jack.

“Look at it later, when they can’t see.”

He then leaned back up, and called over to Henley and Danny.

“How’d the meeting go?”

“It went great!” Henley was grinning ear-to-ear, and even Danny had a noticeable grin. “They want us to do a few weekend shows, and are even scheduling us into their 50th Anniversary lineup!”

“That’s awesome!”

“Jack! Did you get your inhaler?”

“I picked it up for him while getting quesadilla supplies, now enough chatter and chow down, they’re getting cold.”

~~~

Since he saw the bag, Jack wondered what inside was so important that Merritt didn’t want Danny or Henley to see. Once he excused himself from lunch, Jack couldn’t get to his room fast enough. Once he made it there, Jack quickly dumped the contents of the bag onto the small table that served as a dumping ground for stuff he didn’t know what to do with.

The box was, as Merritt said, a prescription inhaler. Jack didn’t know how he got it, but he wasn’t about to question Merritt and his ways of getting what he needed.

The slip of paper had a note written on it in Merritt’s signature scrawl.

Don’t bind when exercising, it’s not good for you. But if you do, which I know you will, breathe from your diaphragm, not your chest.
-M.M.

It was the smallest of gestures, but it almost made Jack cry. Merritt knew he was trans, accepted him, and even offered useful advice to make binding easier. Jack focused on breathing from his stomach rather than his chest, and felt an almost immediate difference in his chest. The pain wasn’t gone, but it wasn’t as prominent as before. Once he did that, the realization hit him again.

Merritt accepted him. Merritt knew, and he accepted him for who he was.

Jack smiled and picked up the playing card from where it lay face-side down on the table. When he saw what was on the other side he nearly knocked over the bottle of water next to him.

It was a Jack of Spades, his favorite card, for obvious reasons. But instead of the two spades over the Jack’s shoulder being the usual solid black, they were painted blue, pink, and white, forming the trans pride flag.

Chapter Text

The Horsemen, after months of hard work and dedication, have finally gotten to the point that they have a Vegas show planned, the timeline syncing up. Now all they have to do is go to France, find a client from the Crédit Républicain de Paris, and make sure they go to Vegas and see their show. They also had to get the details on the inside of the vault. Oh, and only Henley and Merritt spoke a lick of French. Sounds simple enough.

Their personal plan involved going on the tour of the vault, one group providing a distraction while the other two took photos. Henley and Jack were discreet enough to take the pictures, while Merritt and Danny were annoying enough to keep the guards away from the real action long enough to get the job done.

Jack found the whole ordeal simple enough, they might even have the opportunity to snag some extra cash. When Jack presented the idea, however, it was quickly shot down.

“If they report a robbery, not only do we run the risk of getting caught, but they’ll up their security before our show.”

Danny could be such a buzzkill.

Finding their future “guest of honor,” as Merritt insisted on calling them, would be more difficult. Jack would walk around, nicking people’s wallets, take a picture of their bank card, then pass them onto one of his compatriots, who would approach them with the wallet, claiming they dropped it. If they spoke English and had a Crédit Républicain de Paris card, they had a potential target. A little more complex, but the Horsemen could make it work.

Unforeseen complications, however, were bringing everyone down.

For starters, it was pouring when they arrived in Paris, meaning they would have to wait on finding their audience member.

Secondly, the bank was closed for a French holiday they had never heard of, so no vault pictures.

The hotel they were staying in wasn’t too bad, all things considered. They had gotten two rooms, each with two beds. Danny and Henley shared one, and Jack shared the other with Merritt, which Merritt requested.

“Why do you want to share with him over me or Danny?”

“Jack doesn’t snore, unlike Danny-boy.”

“Hey, I don’t snore!”

“And me?” Henley had an eyebrow raised curiously.

Jack jumped in before Merritt could say anything.

“He gets jealous of all your hair products, all I have is a comb and gel.”

“I told you that as a joke, you little shit!”

Henley was laughing loudly in the street, drawing the attention of the few passersby, while even Danny chuckled a little at Merritt’s slight embarrassment.

The holiday and rain combined made for one nasty result, no sightseeing that day. Keeping four magicians with nothing to do in two small hotel rooms led to boredom, which no one likes, Henley least of all. They were lounging in Henley and Danny’s room, rain loudly pattering on the glass.

“Ya know,” Henley started, “we could go to the pool. I saw a sign on our way in. It’s indoors, so we don’t have to worry about it being closed.”

That certainly got Jack’s attention, though for two very separate, very different, reasons. Reason number one, Jack loved swimming. Before he ran away, Jack had been on both his schools’ women’s track teams and the swim teams. He had saved some pictures from both in his room, but he didn’t look at them often because they were all taken before he had even cut his hair. He hadn’t gone swimming in years, due to reason number two. Swimming in binders is a big no-no, so even if he could go swimming with a shirt on, it wouldn’t be worth it. Besides, swimming with a shirt on would raise even more suspicions from Danny and Henley, and Jack still wasn’t quite ready.

Jack was spared from making an excuse from Danny, of all people.

“Why would anyone go to the pool today? It’s awful outside.”

“I said the pool is inside, no worries.”

“Still, who would want to go to the pool in this? It’s, muggy.”

“Exactly! Sourpusses like you will be waiting for the weather to be good, meanwhile we’ll have a pool mostly to ourselves. It’s genius.”

Jack couldn’t argue with that point, but Merritt evidently could.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, dear Henley,” he said in a cartoonish French accent. “Your logic is sound, but it would appear others had the same idea as you!” The three of them looked at Merritt in confusion. He cleared his throat and continued in his normal voice. “I saw a family of ten walk past carrying towels when I went to get my charge from mine and Jack’s room. All of them had swimsuits on.”

“Oh.”

Silence hovered over the small room for a moment before Henley spoke up again.

“What if we went later, when it’s closed?”

“How would we even get in?”

“What happened to ‘nothing’s ever locked,’ Jack?”

Jack panicked, then quickly made a somewhat believable excuse. “It’s different when there are security cameras and a person on staff near the door.” He came off a little snippy, but Jack was a little more focused on keeping his secret a while longer than policing his tone.

“Right, I forgot about the cameras. Thanks, Jack.”

Henley sounded so disappointed that Jack felt almost as sad for her as he did relieved for himself. Speaking of feeling relieved, Jack nearly sighed aloud. He was content with letting the topic rest until it arose again, at which point he might have an excuse prepared.

Unfortunately for Jack, Henley was fixated on their apparent pool problem, presenting another solution within a few minutes.

“If we can’t find a good time to go while we’re here, maybe we can find one when we get back to New York? Or in Vegas? Oh, some of those fancy Vegas hotels that we might end up staying in have pools built into them! We won’t have to worry about anyone else being there.”

“That won’t be for a while, Henley.”

“I know that, Danny, but it’ll be something to look forward to, right Jack?”

Caught off guard, Jack could barely stammer out a reply.

“Uhh, yeah, I guess.”

Well shit, Jack thought, now Henley looks concerned.

“Is everything okay, Jack?”

Damnitt, why do they always point him out when he’s a cause for concern! Curse her caring nature!

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit! Do you not like swimming? You seem like the kind of guy that would love that stuff!”

“It’s not that.”

“Oh. My. God.” That was a concerning thing to hear, Henley clearly thought she figured something out.

“You don’t know how to swim, do you?”

And who was Jack, but to ignore the first excuse that fell into his lap? He nodded, acting slightly embarrassed. Not only would they never ask him to go swimming, he could get out of this without added suspicion.

Merritt, ever the one to help Jack come up with excuses, piped up.

“Probably not many public pools around New York City, is there?”

“No, there is.” Jack couldn’t lie about city layout, especially when both Danny and Henley have lived in the city before.

Danny, who Jack was almost certain knew that something else was going on, pried further.

“Then why don’t you know how to swim?”

Almost anyone could tell Jack didn’t have the best childhood, and that included the Horsemen. When discussing family a few months back, Jack had been blunt enough for them to know he had run away a few years ago. Might as well just use his parents' neglect as an excuse.

“Parents never bothered to teach me how, and no one wants to be the 15-year-old kid at the pool who can’t swim.”

Jack wasn’t completely lying, his parents hadn’t taught him how to swim, his neighbors with the pool in their backyard did.

The three older Horsemen got the look on their face they always had when they learned something new about Jack’s home life before he ran away. Henley looked like she wanted to give Jack the biggest bear-hug ever while yelling at his parents. Danny looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and pity, which Jack hated. Merritt looked like he wanted to find Jack’s parents and mentally dissect them, only to use every morsel of information against them.

All attention quickly fell back on Henley when she spoke in a reassuring tone, as though speaking to a younger sibling, which made sense considering how young Jack was in comparison.

“When we find a private pool, we’ll teach you how to swim.”

Her voice carried the weight of a promise Jack could clearly hear underneath what she said. She was promising Jack that the Horsemen would try and give him the childhood experiences he never had. Henley said it with such sincerity and conviction that Jack was starting to feel a little bad about lying.

All Jack could say without breaking was-

“That would be great, Henley.”

Chapter Text

Several months into knowing each other, the Horsemen were getting along great. They knew which buttons were okay to push, and which led to fallouts. They understood each other better than anyone else, which is great.

Jack knows that Henley and Jack will accept him, he would even bet money on it, but he just wasn't quite ready to come out, yet. Which leads him to the problem of the day.

Jack was almost out of testosterone, which he kind of needs to feel comfortable with himself, especially so close to their big performances.

He knows he could, in theory, just let everyone know he was going to the pharmacy to pick up a medication, hell, Jack could even lie and say that he was refilling his unnecessary inhaler. The first problem with that was the fact that Henley was, unfortunately, an awesome person who picked up several months worth of refills just a week ago. The second problem was that everyone was nosy, himself included, and would ask what the medication was for. Even the non-mentalists among them were getting good enough to know when they were lying.

Luckily, Jack had a plan. A simple plan.

“Okay,” he said as he grabbed his set of keys to the apartment from the bowl on the counter, “I’m heading out for a bit.”

As expected, someone spoke up. Unexpectedly, it was Danny.

“What for?”

Casual, uninteresting response. Enough to have a reason to leave the apartment, not enough that more than Jack needs to go. If Merritt hadn’t already left for the morning, Jack would have sought out his assistance in conning Danny and Henley. But alas, he had to do it himself.

“We’re almost out of Ibuprofen, figured I’d grab some.”

“That’s all?”

Well shit.

“Uh, might get lunch, I’ll figure it out.”

Danny glared at him with suspicion, but didn’t question him.

“Okay then, I’ll just be going, alright.”

Jack could hear Danny standing up and Henley calling from the kitchen as he closed the door.

“Get more allergy pills!”

As Jack left the building, he saw a flash of movement from the stairwell behind him. When he turned to look at it, however, he saw nothing.

Jack shook it off and continued walking down the street, but the feeling of something being there didn’t go away. Instead of fading, it intensified.

Jack could be a patient man when he needed to be, so rather than turn his head around in order to look around in vain, he simply kept walking, knowing that whoever was tailing him would want to see where he went before trying anything.

Who would want to know where Jack was going on a random weekday? Who would even have a reason to follow Jack in the first place?

Jack wasn’t stupid. He quickly narrowed down who it could be. It had to either be someone who knew of the Horsemen and their larger plans or one of his past con victims. It couldn’t be the latter, as Jack specifically targeted people who had barks worse than their bites.

Who knew about the plan? Only the person (people?) who issued it, and the Horsemen.

…

That son of a bitch.

...

So Danny was tailing him.

Great.

To double check, Jack found a subway along his route. A few moments after he descended the stairs, Jack could barely hear the tell-tale sound of Danny’s boots over the noise of the station. He had planned on sushi from down the street, but Jack figured if he was already in the subway, he might as well take the trip over to his favorite sandwich shop a few stops down the line.

If Jack wasn’t sure Danny was the one following him before, he was certain now, considering the fact that Danny was only standing a few feet away.

Jack knew Danny could see his phone from his angle, behind him and to the right, so just as he was about to enter his password, Jack happened to turn his phone to the left. He swore he could almost hear the groan of disappointment from Danny.

When his stop came, Jack continued acting as though nothing was ary, hands in his pockets and head held high.

He walked for a few blocks, then into a quiet sandwich shop.

“One turkey club on wheat, no tomatoes, and half a ham and cheese sub. Thanks.”

Once Jack had the two sandwiches he sat down, and took out his phone again.

Sit down already, my feet hurt just
thinking about how long you’ve
been standing.
Sent 11:49 am

When he saw Danny begrudgingly walk into the shop, the bell dinging in the doorway, Jack made a show of waving, even kicking the chair across from out for his would-be-stalker to sit in. Jack started impersonating the elderly British man who lived on the floor above them as he handed Danny the half-sub.

“Daniel, old chap! You know, it’d probably be easier to tail someone if you weren’t so obvious.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. How’d you figure it out?”

Jack looked around the small shop quickly, then leaned forward with his hand cupped around his mouth as though he was telling an embarrassing secret.

“Magic,” he said, in a perfect mimicry of Danny’s voice.

“Haha, funny.”

“I’m serious!”

“Okay, how long did it take for you to figure it out?”

…

“Don’t say it.”

In Henley’s voice, “... three minutes.”

“I hate you.”

Jack gasped dramatically.

“I will have you know that I am a delight, Danny-boy!”

“Jesus, you hang out with Merritt too much.”

“Yeah well at least I hang out with people instead of following them creepily.”

Danny rolled his eyes lightheartedly as he unwrapped his sandwich.

“It was for practice, and you should be practicing, too.”

“I don’t remember tailing anyone as part of the plan?”

“It’s not, but it wouldn’t hurt to know how.”

As much as Jack loved annoying Danny, he had to keep on the task, get Danny to leave him alone. He figured that if he could get Danny to focus on a new target, one that he thought would pose a bigger challenge, he would leave Jack alone. Merritt was both annoying and cunning enough that Danny would likely take the bait. Hell, Merritt might even play along if Jack texts him about it. Jack took a bite of his sandwich and spoke around the food in his mouth to further annoy Danny.

“Okay, if you wanted practice, why not Merritt? Wouldn’t he pose a greater challenge?”

“Merritt is perceptive, but he’s not a psychic. I’m perceptive too, ya know, and my perception is telling me that you’re trying to get rid of me.”

Jack stopped chewing as his confident demeanor dropped, any control he had over the conversation gone.

Well, that backfired, severely.

Jack hurriedly swallowed and tried to speak up but-

“What are you hiding, Jack?”

“I’m not hiding anything I just-”

“It doesn’t take a mentalist to see that you’re lying, Jack.”

Jack ran his fingers through his short hair in exasperation.

“What does mentalism have to do with this Danny?”

“... Merritt knows, doesn’t he?”

“Danny-”

“Did you tell him, or did he figure it out?”

“Danny.”

“He probably figured it out, he invades privacy like that.”

“Danny!”

“Come to think of it, that explains why two have been closer recently, and-”

“Atlas!”

Danny stopped at that name, the one that had barely been uttered by anyone in the apartment for months, reserved only for shows and when someone was upset at him specifically.

He looked at Jack to see his eyes squeezed shut, the way one does when holding back tears. After a few moments of silence Jack spoke up again.

“Please, just, don’t.”

Danny may be a dick, but he knows that there are certain boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed, and what he had considered a reasonable question had clearly crossed into ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ territory.

He put a hand on Jack’s shoulder, and Jack looked up at him, a stony expression on his face.

“I won’t push.”

The ‘I’m sorry’ from Danny and the ‘you already fucking pushed me’ from Jack went unsaid as Danny removed his hand and they both resumed eating.

Jack keeps half his sandwich in the bag and stands to leave, but Danny stays seated. With his back to the window, Danny’s message is clear.

‘I won’t follow.’

Jack takes the scenic route to his normal pharmacy, taking his time.

When there, he stocks up on a few months supply of his testosterone, Ibuprofen, and some Band-Aids, just in case.

The walk home is uneventful in comparison to his walk there.

When Jack does eventually arrive back at their apartment, he is faced with the sights and sounds of Henley and Merritts watching a soap opera on TV, Henley with a face mask on and her hair in a bun while painting her toenails, Merritt with a bag of popcorn in his lap. Danny must still be out.

Jack put his sandwich in the fridge and started making his way to his room to drop off the testosterone, but Henley stopped him.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Band-Aids, they didn’t have any Hello Kitty ones, sorry Merritt!”

“Jokes on you kid, Hello Kitty has great Band-Aid designs.”

“What are you guys watching? Looks… interesting.”

Merritt sat up and started explaining what was happening excitedly.

“Henley picked it out and I adore it because even I can’t predict what’s gonna happen, the twists come out of nowhere! Ms. Rosaria was revealed to have a secret son two episodes ago, and then this episode he has an evil twin brother! Truly no lead up.”

“And that’s, good?”

“Quality? Hell no. For entertainment? Ab-so-lute-ly.”

Jack shrugged and stowed his testosterone safely in his room, next to the Jack of Spades card. After debating whether or not he should for a moment, Jack returned to the living room and sat down just as the opening titles were starting.

The third actor he saw in the introductions was the aforementioned Ms. Rosaria, played by an openly trans woman, even sporting a small trans flag pin on the straps of her dress.

Jack looked over at Merritt, who nodded and pointed at Henley.

Henley picked this one out.

Though Jack knew she would be accepting, it was nice to see the casual acceptance before he came out.

Chapter Text

It’s their first day in Vegas, and the Horsemen couldn’t be more excited.

They almost had their sponsor in the bag, their current theater had all the bells and whistles required to secure an audience, and they had meetings with the theater staff to make sure all the paperwork was in order today.

That last one was the worst part. The other three Horsemen noticed throughout the course of said meetings that rather than appearing bored or asleep, Jack looked on edge.

Normally, Jack had the uncanny ability to fall asleep anywhere, at any time. In a kitchen chair, on the floor, on public transport, and yes, in meetings. So the fact that he had not fallen asleep was somewhat shocking. If the three of them weren’t more focused on the meeting at hand, they might have been concerned.

Thankfully, the meetings didn’t take all day. Bad news, the afternoon was completely overrun by setting up their stage with Henley’s traps and ensuring that no one in the audience would be able to see what was really going on from their angle.

After a rather tiring day, all the Horsemen wanted to do was go and lie down in their rooms. To their collective disappointment, one of their rooms got double-booked, meaning one room for all four of them for a few days.

The room, as was typical for hotels, contained two queen sized beds, a small couch, and two uncomfortable seats.

They quickly decided that rotating who slept where would be the best option, giving them equal chances on the beds.

“Jack can take one of the beds.”

“What? Henley, I’m fine taking a chair tonight, you take the bed.”

“Oh, please. Your back probably hurts from helping me with those heavy boxes earlier. The only one to help me, I might add.”

Henley looked pointedly at Danny, who was busy fighting with Merritt over which one of them got the other bed.

“Hen, you take the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor, it’ll be fine.”

“I’ll tell you what, Jack.” Henley leaned over to whisper in Jack’s ear. “If I can get Danny and Merritt to sleep on the other things, we’ll both get a bed. Whaddya think of that?”

Jack looked past her, over to where Merritt and Danny were trying to decide how to decide who got the bed, looked back to Henley and nodded, ready to watch the drama unfold.

One arm wrestling competition later, Henley reigned victorious, and they all prepared for bed. Despite the Nevada heat, Jack insisted on wearing his loose-fitting hoodie to bed.

Though Jack clearly didn’t want to go to bed quite yet, he quickly gave into exhaustion once forced to put his phone away by Henley. Merritt quickly pointed out the childishness of Jack refusing bedtime and Mother Henley enforcing it, but it was easy for Henley to pretend that she couldn’t hear him from his place on the couch.

~~~

It was half-past 3 in the morning when Danny awoke to the sounds of movement in the bed next to his chair.

Jack was having a nightmare. He was thrashing under the covers, muttering something quietly.

Sleep-talking was not abnormal for Jack, in fact, the other Horsemen were so used to him doing it, they could tune it out for the most part. What was out of the ordinary was the fact that as Danny approached the bed, he could understand the words being said. Jack’s normal sleep-talking was mostly gibberish or too quiet to hear.

“That’s not my name, that’s not my name, I’m Jack, I’m Jack, not that, that’s not my name, that’s-”

The words were repeated over and over, like a mantra, as Danny turned on a lamp and walked over to Henley’s bedside in order to wake her.

“Henley, Hen, wake up.”

“Huh, what?”

“Jack’s having a nightmare and I don’t know what to do.”

Henley sat up quickly.

“You wake him up, then calm him down. I think.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to wake people who were having nightmares?”

“I think that’s just for sleepwalking.”

“Well,” Danny said, “what about sleep talking?”

“Huh, I don’t know.”

Across the room, the two of them could hear Merritt stand up from the couch. Danny figured a combination of both Jack thrashing and his talking with Henley woke him up.

Merritt ignored both Danny and Henley, quickly leaning over and putting his hands on both of Jack’s shoulders gently pulling Jack up, waking him. He comforted the startled Jack by squeezing his shoulders reassuringly and repeating a mantra of his own.

“Shh, Jack. You’re okay, Jack. It’s just us Jack, you’re safe. We know your name, Jack. You’re Jack, no one else. You’re okay, Jack”

Danny noticed the overuse of Jack’s name in Merritt’s phrasing, which made sense considering the nightmare seemed to have something to do with people not using his name.

Jack’s breathing slowed down, and he leaned back so he was sitting against the headboard.

“Sorry for waking you guys up, you… you can go back to bed now.”

His arms were wrapped around his legs, and Jack put his head down on his knees. Merritt had a hand on top of one of his wrists.

No one said anything for a bit, but then Danny tentatively spoke up with the question plaguing all of their minds.

“What was the dream about?”

Jack tensed up, and Merritt leaned closer to him.

“You don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to, they won’t pressure you.”

Jack lifted his head just enough to shake it slightly.

“No, I want to tell them, I-I just… I need a minute.”

After a few moments, Danny and Henley looked at each other, then stood up. They walked to sit on either side of Jack on the bed, Jack scooting closer to the center to make room for them. Henley wrapped her arm around his back, and Danny reached out his hand to rest on Jack’s shoulder, squeezing slightly as he saw Merritt do earlier.

Jack lifted his head up and took a deep breath. Looking at Merritt for support, he began speaking.

“I wasn’t always Jack Wilder. My last name was Williams, and my first name was… a girl’s name. ‘Cause I was born a girl. I… I’m trans.”

He paused for a moment, knowing that no matter what he said next, he at least said that, and that was what he had wanted to do for so long.

“My parents were already bad, but they got worse after they found out. They treated me like shit for it. They- they dragged me out to local events, anywhere that lots of neighbors would be, and since it was summer there were a lot of them. They would make me wear dresses that they had bought ‘just for me,’ then they would bring me to meet everyone that they saw, introducing their ‘beautiful daughter’ and saying that I was ‘so girly and cute.’”

Jack choked up for a moment, years of repression catching up with him now that he was sharing his story with the people who he cared about, and who cared for him. Danny gently squeezed his shoulder again.

“If I tried to tell the other adults that I was a boy, my parents would act all embarrassed, telling them that I was ‘going through a phase,’ and they all bought it, trapping me with the people who hurt me the most. One day, I just broke. I went into the bathroom when they were asleep, took my father’s clippers and cut off all my hair. It looked awful and uneven, and I loved it. I packed a bag, left a note. Didn’t even tell them my name, just in case they ever came looking for me.”

Jack was grinning, the pride in what he did all those years ago radiating off of him. It would have been a wonderful sight, had it not been for the steady stream of tears still rolling down his face.

He cleared his throat and continued on.

“When I first ran away, I had that nightmare every night. I’m standing on an empty stage, a spotlight on me in a dress with my hair the way it was before, my parents’ voices continuously introducing me as their ‘precious daughter’ over the speakers while the audience stare at me and start chanting my deadname. No matter what I do, I can’t get off the stage or make them stop, so I just start shouting at them, telling them that it’s not my name.”

Jack sniffled and ran the sleeve of his sweatshirt over his nose.

“The longer I was away from them, no matter what was happening, even if I had to sleep in the street, the dream came less and less often, but… but whenever I think I see one of my parents, I get the nightmare again that night. One of those director ladies looked like she could be my mother’s sister, I couldn’t even look at her the whole time.”

He closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and stared at the ceiling. The four of them were all silent for a few minutes, processing.

After a moment, Henley asked the question no one wanted to know the answer to.

“How old were you?”

“... 15.”

If none of them had been crying before that small number, the tears were certainly falling now.

Henley made the first move, enveloping Jack in a tight hug, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Who could do that to their own son?”

That was the breaking point for them all, Jack hugging Henley back ferociously, clinging to her like she was a life preserver in the middle of an ocean. Danny moved to hug them both, Merritt joining them not long after.

Jack was bawling at this point, but he didn’t care. His soul had been bared to those he had grown to love like family, and unlike his first one, this family accepted him for who he was, not who they thought he was.