𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 , 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐓.

— Except, when it came to Brandt, He couldn’t. He’s known Brandt for as long as He’s been alive. “If you need to leave again, to go looking for answers, I’ll. . .I can understand. I can.” Because Jack has also done the same. And loving Brandt means understanding.

— ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes’ that never lasted long enough. He wants to know. He has to ask. Just to know if there’s a chance. “. . did you find what you were looking for?” Jack didn’t pry. He never did. He never peeked or snooped or followed Brandt.

Goodness, He has missed Brandt do much. If Jack needed to breathe, He’s sure that He’d miss him more than air. Don’t move away. “. . .I’m not mad at you. For leaving. I’m not. How could I be? I’ve also. . .been elsewhere. Are you—can we. . .?”

Chaotic. He knows. He’s tried not to track him, you know. Out of respect and privacy and what not. “Oh, you know. I was off world. Inter. . .galactic problems and such. The others don’t really like me, so. There’s that.” He’s missed him. So much. “I miss you.”

Hi. Hello. He’s forgotten how to talk to boys—Brandt, specifically. “. . .how was your trip?”

oh. He’s. He’s back. . . .hello.