Elliot's voice was small when he replied. “My own parents don’t even like me, Jackson. Not when I’m not useful to them. How can I expect yours to?" His eyes met Jackson's, the blue shining even brighter than usual. "And then you’ll realise I’m not worth it and I’ll be alone and angry all over again. It’ll be worse, though, because I’ll know what it was like to have this.”
Jackson’s heart broke for Elliot. He couldn’t believe he’d once likened him to an emotionless robot. The man in front of him had spent his whole life trying to please the people who weremeant to offer unconditional love and support. He wanted to prove to him that love wasn’t like that. That it wasn’t dependent on what you could do for people, or what you could achieve.
“Elliot, love, I will never, ever think you aren’t worth it. You are worth everything to me.”
Jackson kissed Elliot, feeling him melt into him.
And the moment was completely fucking ruined by some halfwit teenager shouting a homophobic slur from across the car park. Elliot tensed in his arms again, but it was a different kind of tension than Jackson expected. It was one of defiance.
“Let’s go and see your dad,” he said, taking off for the hospital entrance with Jackson’s hand in his, at a brisk walk that would have rivalled many people’s marathon pace.
They bypassed the nurses' station and headed straight for the lifts. The hospital was a bit of a maze, but Jackson remembered the way, using important landmarks like the Costa Coffee and WH Smiths to navigate back to his dad’s room.
His mum and dad were talking softly when they entered, his mum perched on the edge of the hospital bed, their hands clasped together. Elliot stilled beside him.
“Oh, you’re back already, dears. Come have a seat.”
Jackson walked in and flopped onto the hard vinyl chair in the corner. “Where’s Katie?”
“She’s gone to get a coffee. You know how she is with travel,” his mum replied.
Elliot stood awkwardly next to him for a moment before Jackson tugged him onto his lap. He let out an undignified ‘meep’ and levelled Jackson with a glare when his parents both chuckled at them.
“So, you’re the boy who’s managed to tie down our Jackson,” his dad said with a grin on his tired face.
“Yes, Mr. Jennings, sir. My name is Elliot Owens.”
Jackson had never seen Elliot quite so flustered. It would have been adorable if he hadn’t known about the anxiety that sat behind it.
“None of that Mr. Jennings stuff, son. It’s Keith. And I know who you are, seeing as you've given Jackson a right run for his money in a few races over the years.” There was pause as Jackson’s dad seemed to size Elliot up. Elliot squirmed under the gaze. “We were sorry to hear about your injury,” Keith finally said. “Will you be back in action soon?”
God, Jackson loved his parents. He could feel tension bleed out of Elliot despite the somewhat sensitive topic.
“I’ve been back training. I’ve missed my shot at the Olympics, but there are other races,” Elliot said matter-of-factly.
“It must be difficult, though. We really expected to see you on the team.”
Elliot grimaced. “It’s the best I could hope for with the timing of the injury. It was my own fault. Jackson told me I should get it checked out, but I was stubborn. I pushed too hard. I’m just happy to be able to run again.”
Jackson squeezed his thigh, but Elliot batted his hand away, probably already embarrassed enough to be sitting on his boyfriend's lap for this conversation, but there wasn’t an abundance of seating in their little corner of the hospital room.
“And do you feel ready? Recovered well enough?”
“I do,” Elliot replied. “Not back to my fastest yet, but I feel good.”
“He’ll be back beating me in the final stretch in no time,” Jackson interjected.
“Not if you follow your training plan and work on your pacing,” Elliot countered.
“Relentless, I swear,” Jackson replied. “I’m glad I’ve got you as a coach now, though. Very motivating.”
“Assistant Coach.”
Jackson’s dad let out a deep chuckle that lit Jackson up from inside; it was so like his old self. Seeing him in here was hard, but he knew they’d be bringing him home before long. Listening to them talk to Elliot about the sport they all loved, Jackson knew his parents wouldn’t allow him to sacrifice his dreams to stay here, no matter how wrong it would feel to leave. God, they’d be horrified if they knew he’d tried to hand off his spot to Elliot. As much as he’d panicked about his dad’s health in that moment, he knew a small part of it had been that voice inside that still told him he wasn’t good enough, that he hadn’t deserved it in the first place so it made sense to give it up to someone he genuinely believed did.
Keith Jennings was discharged from the hospital four days later, driven home by Ellen to a welcome wagon of all their friends and neighbours. He’d never admit it, but Jackson was pretty sure even Elliot had tears in his eyes as his dad made the rounds, hugging every single person who had come.
Elliot ordered Jackson to take a rest day and spend time with his dad, and he took orders from his new coach very seriously. He borrowed the car and drove his dad out to a little twenty-four-hour café they used to frequent together when he’d been driving Jackson up and down the country for cross-country meets. Over tea and bacon sarnies, they talked more than they had in years.
