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daveyjacobss · 3 years

Text

meant to be made into art

jack kelly x davey jacobs (freshman college roommates au)

summary: davey might like his new roommate more than he was expecting to.

a/n: hi @faded-dragon-flys !! i’m your secrect santa for @newsies-secret-santa !! this is being posted a little later than i wanted so i’m really sorry about that but i hope you like it!! i hope you’ve had a happy holidays and that you have a wonderful new years :)

masterlist

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College was....okay. It wasn't that Davey wasn't excited to have more freedom and to finally be able to pursue his interests, but the entire experience was incredibly nerve-wracking. Classes and coursework were enough stress on their own, but the addition of living away from home for the first time in a new place with a stranger for a roommate wasn't exactly ideal. Not that his roommate wasn't fine, he was —mostly. He had a horrible sleep schedule and he was a little messy and he sometimes listened to his music too loud, but Davey had many of the same flaws. So, yeah, Davey could mostly handle Jack.

It had been a bit of a shock the second week when he had been up at an ungodly hour writing for one of his classes and Jack, who he had assumed was sleeping somewhere else for the night, had returned from one of the school's art studios splattered with paint. From the look on Jack's face, it had been a bit of a shock for him, too. But after the initial surprise had passed Jack had laughed quietly and Davey's cheeks had flushed the lightest of pinks because, oh, Jack had a really nice laugh. Davey had laughed a little, too, once he got his faint blush under control, and they had stayed up a little longer to talk before going to sleep. There were plenty of late night encounters in the following weeks, but that first one lingered in Davey's mind — the way the paint on Jack's face had accentuated his jawline, the way his smile had spread across his face so easily. His laughter had been soft but, with the quiet of the room, the sound of it had wrapped itself around Davey so firmly that he had felt it in his chest.

That happened a lot — more than he would have liked to admit. Jack would laugh, or he would sing along with his music, or he would just talk, and Davey would feel it reverberating in his chest and quickening the pace of his heart. Though, to be fair, the sped up heart rate also happened whenever Jack changed his shirt in front of Davey or walked into the room after a shower in only a towel.

So, maybe he couldn't actually handle Jack that well. Or, rather, he couldn't handle the way his face warmed every time Jack looked at him and his heart jumped in his chest anytime Jack touched him. Every time he talked to Sarah on the phone she would ask about his cute roommate, and every time without fail Davey would make a little choking noise and, if Jack was there, a swift exit. She had seen him when she was helping Davey move into his dorm, and he spent every day grateful that she hadn't gotten the chance to actually talk to him.

Sarah was better at making friends than Davey was, she always had been. Where she blossomed in social situations and could easily command a room, Davey floundered for what to say and criticized every word that came out of his own mouth. He was awkward, and people tended to give him strange looks rather than friendly smiles. Jack was the same way as Sarah, from what Davey could gather. He had plenty of friends back home and he had had no trouble making friends at their university, never eating alone in the dining hall and always having someone in each of his classes to text about assignments. Davey could understand it, the way people seemed to fawn over Jack and melt at his smile — after all, he did the same things. Jack never really brought his friends back to their dorm, though, and it warmed Davey's heart to think it was out of consideration for him.

The only real friends Davey had made since arriving on campus were Jack and a girl in his english class named Katherine, who sometimes scared him but he still adored all the same. Katherine had caught onto his growing feelings for his roommate so fast Davey had briefly wondered if she was psychic. Jack had seen them sitting together while they ate dinner and came to say hi, and Katherine had clearly not missed the way Davey had simultaneously brightened out of excitement and shrunk down out of nervousness. Thankfully, she didn't say anything until Jack had left, but then a teasing smile had spread across her face and Davey knew he was a goner.

"Don't think I didn't see that," she had said, nonchalantly flipping her hair behind her shoulder. Her eyes were twinkling with mischief as she looked at him.

"See what?" He had asked, trying to appear as unbothered as she was. He failed miserably.

She hadn't responded, only going back to eating her salad, but she had been poking fun at him about it ever since. It didn't help that she insisted Jack had a crush on Davey, too. She would tell him about how Jack's smile was different for him and he rarely looked away from Davey when they were in the same room — but Davey just couldn't bring himself to believe it. Believing it would let in too much hope, and with too much hope came the inevitable bone crushing weight of heartbreak.

Even just the little bit of hope that had crept into his chest after Katherine's constant reassurances of Jack liking him as well left him stealing glances at his roommate while perched on his own bed and making half-assed annotations in his textbook. Sometimes he felt creepy, always watching Jack when he wasn't looking (thought he probably spent an equal amount of time averting his eyes for his own sanity), but every once in a while Jack would catch him and he would just smile — so Davey never felt too bad about it.

He watched as Jack hunched over his sketchbook, his lip between his teeth and his brow furrowed. Jack always looked breathtaking when he was concentrating on his artwork. He ended up in strange positions that looked like there was no way they could ever be comfortable, but his body was as relaxed as it was tense. Sometimes his tongue would slip out between his teeth if he got really into it, and it always made Davey smile. Jack's control over his face in general seemed to disappear when he was working on his art, every emotion clearly written in his expressions as he cycled through them. Once, Jack had brought Davey to the art studio with him so he could have company while he painted. It had been one of the smaller rooms in the art building, and they were the only ones in there. The way Jack had loosened and opened up was incredible to watch, it was like as soon as he picked up his paintbrush his whole being clicked into place and was brought into focus. The painting was beautiful, as was every piece of Jack's, but it was the painter who Davey had watched come alive in vibrant colors.

"What are you working on?" He blurted out, startling even himself as Jack looked up from his sketchbook. His roommate's face relaxed a little as his eyes fell on Davey.

"Just some warmup sketches," he answered easily. Everything Jack did seemed to come easily.

"Any particular subject?" Davey pushed his textbook off his lap, his notes forgotten in lieu of a much more important subject (Jack, of course). For a split second, he swore he saw panic flash across his friend's face.

"Not really, I just like to make sure I draw a bit everyday." He smiled at Davey, closing his sketchbook. "What class are you working on?"

"Oh, this?" Davey gestured to the several colors of highlighters and pens scattered across his bed with his textbook. "It's just stuff for my intro to philosophy course. The professor gives us, like, never-ending readings. It's nowhere near as interesting as your art." He was blushing by the time he finished talking, not having expected himself to turn his answer into praise for Jack (...again). But Jack scoffed, bringing himself and his sketchbook over to Davey's bed. He plopped down next to him and their knees knocked into each other, Davey's heart missing a beat.

"Nah, if it's interesting to you than it's cool. You don't have to downplay it or justify it to me." Jack caught Davey's eyes while he was talking, locking in so that Davey couldn't have looked away even if he wanted to (he didn't). There was something so simultaneously comforting and exposing about Jack looking right at him, all of his attention focused on Davey. He was so caught up it in that it took a second for his words to register. But, when they did, he found his chest warming and the butterflies in his stomach fluttering their wings — not the harsh, violent flapping that happened when he got anxious, but a gentle soothing rhythm that could have lulled him to sleep. Not knowing how to respond to such a warm act of reassurance, he tried to redirect the conversation.

"Can I see what you were drawing?"

It was Jack who finally broke their staring contest, dragging his eyes down to look at his sketchbook resting in his lap. He glanced between it and Davey, biting his lip.

"Tell you what, I'll show you some of these sketches if you finally let me read one of those short stories of yours for your fiction writing class, deal?"

Davey's eyes widened, feeling himself shrinking back without actually moving. He was retreating from the warmth Jack was radiating and it left him cold and regretful, but he didn't know if he could do it. He didn't know if he could let Jack read one his stories, let him look that deeply in Davey's mind. Sure, his professor and his classmates would read his stories for workshops to help him revise it, but this felt different. They were reading it for the sake of constructive criticism and helping him improve it, Jack would be reading it just to read it. Jack would be reading it and in doing so he'd get the biggest peek into who Davey was that he would probably ever get. Even Sarah hadn't been allowed to read his stories yet. But —

But Jack was there. Jack was sitting there in front of him on Davey's bed, offering up a part of himself, too. Davey had watched Jack paint, but he had never had the privilege to look into Jack's sketchbook. Even when he asked he had been expecting a playful dismissal, a kind brush off. Jack's other friends, Davey knew, weren't allowed to look at his sketchbook. He had confided with Davey that even his foster brother back home had only been allowed to glimpse a few pages. And if Jack was willing to show that part of himself, to reveal that to Davey, how couldn't he offer up the same in return?

"Okay," he said, looking Jack right in the eye again and watching as his lips turned upward. "Deal."

Jack grinned fully before spitting on his hand and holding it out as if for a handshake. Davey scrunched his nose as he looked down at it. "That's disgusting."

Jack laughed, pulling hand back to wipe it on his pants. "Sorry, force of habit."

Davey's phone vibrated on the bed beside him as he was giving Jack a slightly bewildered stare. He picked it up without really looking, pulling up the text notification from Sarah. His face flushed at her message, quickly putting his phone face down on the bed to make sure Jack couldn't see it. It was Jack's turn to give Davey a bewildered stare.

"You alright there?"

Davey laughed nervously. "Yeah, uh, I'm good. Sorry, it's my sister. She won't stop asking me about my cute roommate." He froze as he realized what he had said. "Uh! Her words, not mine. She won't shut up about it."

"That so?" Jack asked, smirking. He was so smug and so boyishly attractive that Davey's brain didn't even give him a second to think before he was talking again.

"Well, you know, you are." And holy shit he did not just say that. Holy shit he did not just say that. Jack's jaw dropped just slightly, but Davey was more focused on the panic making its way through his entire body and forcing even more words up his throat. "I mean—like, uh, objectively, ya know? Like, your face is, uh — it's, like, aesthetically.... pleasing?"

He wanted to die. He wanted to throw himself out the window and die. He could not believe all of that had just come out of his mouth. He continued to stutter for a few more seconds without any real words coming out, Jack's eyes still fixated on him as he blushed and fidgeted. Then, suddenly, he turned away as if to hide his face — but he didn't turn enough. Davey watched in muted shock as Jack lips spread into a broad grin.

"For what it's worth," Jack's voice was soft and gentle, slipping out from behind his smile, "I think your face is pretty aesthetically pleasing, too."

Davey's entire body shut down. Oh. Jack thought he had a nice face. Okay. Yeah, definitely not something he could handle — definitely something he would need to deal with and process when he was alone and could express the proper amount of freaking out over it.

"I actually, um—" Jack was turning back to him, opening his sketchbook to his most recent pages. "I think you have a really nice face, Davey." He held the book out to Davey and he took it with slightly trembling his hands. In front of him were two full pages populated entirely by sketches of Davey. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at them, at Jack's beautiful handiwork. He made Davey seem more breathtaking than he was, than he could ever dream of being. And, more than that, he made Davey seem like the kind of person worth paying attention to.

When he turned to look back at Jack, his gaze was softened and his mouth was stilling hanging open slightly. Jack looked like he was holding his breath, his eyes hopeful as they met Davey's.

Oh, Davey thought again. Oh.

While he had been sneaking glances at Jack, Jack had been doing the same. While he had been romanticizing every detail of Jack, Jack had been doing the exact same thing to Davey in his artwork. He made Davey feel like he was the kind of person who deserved to be romanticized, like he was the kind of person who was meant to made into art.

Oh.

Davey gently placed the sketchbook down on the bed, feeling more calm than he had since he moved into their dorm. The butterflies in his stomach were fluttering, his heart was beating out his chest, his face was practically burning, and yet everything felt peaceful. Jack's eyes widened as Davey reached for him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

But he melted into it when Davey kissed him. He grabbed at Davey, his hands scrunching up the fabric of Davey's shirt as he pulled him closer, smiling into the kiss. Davey felt like he had literally ascended to heaven, curling his fingers in Jack's hair.

When they eventually pulled away Davey's nerves returned in full force, stumbling over his words as he tried to explain himself. But Jack just smiled at him and kissed his forehead before lacing their hands together. And, yeah, Davey could make do with that.

"What do you say we go grab some dinner and I read one of your stories when we get back? Then we can have a movie night or something," Jack offered, standing up from the bed and pulling Davey with him.

No fear came with the idea of Jack reading his story that time, not after having seen Jack's sketchbook. Not after Jack had revealed himself so openly to Davey — it was only fair he do the same. Plus, he found that he wanted Jack to see that part of him. He wanted to know what Jack thought of his writing.

"Yeah," he smiled, squeezing Jack's hand. "That sounds good."

_________

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#javid fic #javid #jack kelly x davey jacobs #newsies fic #newsies #newsies secret santa #jack kelly #davey jacobs #not my best work lol but i think it's a lil cute :)#bambi can kinda write

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