guys as much as i love zimbits and how totally whipped jack is for bitty, you gotta remember how important shitty is to jack, too
shitty has always been there. i see these posts all like “bitty is the only person jack can be himself around” and i just?? no??
jack and shitty met just a year after jack’s overdose. at that point in time, jack had no one. his parents loved him but there was still so much pressure. kent and him weren’t speaking. and now here he is, in this brand new place, knowing absolutely no one
being mentally ill and alone is not a good combination, either. it’s easy to get lost in your head, to go right back to harmful behaviors or even to start new ones
but then shitty came along. shitty, who was loud and funny and who everyone loved. who didn’t give two shits about what others had to say. who was as outwardly passionate as jack felt inside
and i don’t know how they became friends exactly, but I bet they just gravitated towards each other naturally (or, more accurately, jack followed shitty around until he took pity on the guy and asked if he wanted to hang out sometime)
jack isn’t good at making friends. he’s quiet and awkward and likes watching history documentaries more than going to parties. he’s got his moods, and he’s not exactly the friendliest person.
but shitty doesn’t care. he sees jack for who he really is, sees how hard he’s trying to find his place again. he doesn’t care about his name, doesn’t care about his past or the scars it left.
and jack just. he can’t believe this. he can’t believe he’s found someone who is willing to love him, even though he thinks he’s too fucked up for anything like that again.
they grow really, really close. shitty gets weirder, jack opens up more. jack learns to be more friendly with others, but even as he makes friends with the other boys on the team, it’s nothing like what he has with shitty.
because shitty is his best friend. and jack is shitty’s. they’ve seen each other laugh and cry and stoned while being but-ass naked (well, that one is mainly shitty)
they probably have like. so many inside jokes. there will be a pair of broken sunglasses on the counter and they’ll just look at each other and bust up laughing and everyone else is just like. u guys okay.
imagine how many bad nights shitty’s helped jack through. how many times he’s been the one to hold him after a game, after the media takes another hit at jack. how shitty will lay with him or offer him a joint or even just ramble on about who knows what until jack can think straight again
and same with jack, too. jack’s probably indulged shitty and spooned with him when he cries about his family. told him it doesn’t matter, they’re obviously shit if they can’t treat shitty right. lets shitty yell and punch and just lose it when it gets to be too much.
and oh god the platonic flirting!! jack probably has such bad body image from growing up as a not-very-pretty chubby kid with actual model parents
and shitty just totally annihilates any bad feelings, loudly claiming things like “jack zimmermann’s cheek bones could cut glass. seriously. i had to get 4 stitches last time i touched his face.” and jack never says it but he loves it so much okay
and don’t even think for ONE second keeping his relationship with bitty from shitty isn’t killing jack inside. I bet he’s the first person they tell. Because Shitty is Jack’s better half, the person who’s been there for him through everything, and the fact that he can’t share this new wonderful thing with him is torture.
tldr; platonic relationships are consistently overlooked and undervalued and shitty and jack have been in love long before bitty came along
(since i may or may not keep weirdly doing a few of these things):
— laura checking carmilla’s twitter & reading that last tweet over & over & over again & why couldn’t they have just said something
—laura going back through her music tags & remembering where she was & what carmilla was doing or saying or wearing or laughing at when she listened to it
—laura getting a text late at night & waking up blearily & for a brief moment thinking it’s carmilla, bc who else would text in the middle of the night, even though carmilla, like, never texts, but it’s just her dad talking about the weather & she’d forgotten about the stupid time difference
—laura putting the yellow pillow on carmilla’s bed or leaving a glass of blood out or cleaning the bathroom or buying carmilla’s favorite cookies as if those things could bring her back to life if she tried enough
—laura using her shampoo in the shower & thinking how it smelled more like carmilla than her now
—sitting on carmilla’s bed, looking through her books, tracing carmilla’s pretty handwriting in so many languages, & her hands were always this gentle
—laura going on carmilla’s tumblr in this irrational hope that she’s updated & every single time she gets hit with if anyone could have saved me it would have been you