In drear nighted December,
Too happy, happy tree,
Thy branches ne’er remember
Their green felicity—
The north cannot undo them
With a sleety whistle through them
Nor frozen thawings glue them
From budding at the prime.
In drear-nighted December,
Too happy, happy brook,
Thy bubblings ne’er remember
Apollo’s summer look;
But with a sweet forgetting,
They stay their crystal fretting,
Never, never petting
About the frozen time.
Ah! would ‘twere so with many
A gentle girl and boy—
But were there ever any
Writh’d not of passed joy?
The feel of not to feel it,
When there is none to heal it
Nor numbed sense to steel it,
Was never said in rhyme.
A quick (and very belated) birthday present for @paintedrecs.
Just a little bit of Jack being an emotional wreck, er, “passionate,” during the summer after graduation. Hope you enjoy <3
Jack likes how much the snow can still scare him.
He remembers clearly the first time it ever did. A quick drive home from a New Year’s party as a kid, falling asleep in the backseat, with his father at the wheel and his mother softly murmuring to him in French. The wind picked up without warning, and the snowflakes got larger, and Jack remembers sitting up fast to stare between his parents’ shoulders out through the windshield at the darkness that was suddenly even darker.
Visibility extended for all of an inch beyond the hood of the car, and Jack remained on high alert the entire rest of the drive. Even if there was nothing he could really do. Even if, years later, he wonders if that lack of visibility wasn’t exaggerated by his young mind.
But any true native of the north knows to be wary of the ice as much as they enjoy it. Which is, honestly, the most balanced relationship Jack has ever had with… Well. Anything.
It keeps him grounded. It reminds him that the most beautiful and natural things are also the most dangerous.
Bitty is the most dangerous thing that Jack has ever allowed himself to face.
Bitty is also the most beautiful and natural thing that Jack has ever let himself succumb to.
“…Jack? Where are you, Sweetheart? Where did you go?”
Jack blinks and focuses back in on Bitty’s face on his laptop screen. “Oh. Uh, nowhere. Sorry. I’m fine.” He swallows. “Sorry.”