Jake gives him a look that very plainly points out he doesn’t have to leave for hours.

“Fine,” David says.

The afternoon slips by as quickly as the rest of the trip has gone, nothing David can grasp, hold onto, and before he’s ready for it, it’s time for Jake to go. Well past time, honestly. David would have already been at the airport by now, but Jake doesn’t appear to be worried about missing his flight.

“I would drive you to the airport,” David says. “But—”

Well, there was a reason Jake was always driving David in Toronto.

“It’s cool,” Jake says. “Probably better to say bye here, you know? Can’t kiss you at the airport.”

“That’s true,” David says.

“Hey,” Jake says, cupping his hand around David’s cheek, and David turns his face into it, can’t quite meet Jake’s eye, afraid Jake would see how miserable he is right now, interpret it as —

He can’t look at him.

“We got this,” Jake says, which is a grammatical nightmare, and, David suspects, not true. It was one thing in Toronto, where they spent every day together, even once they returned to New York and Detroit, because they could travel to one another when the distance started to feel like too much.

They’re going to be over a thousand kilometres apart, but it wouldn’t matter if it was only a hundred: between their schedules, the road trips, they would still have a hard time with scheduling. It’s not like they’re going to have a chance to see one another unless it’s for a game, maybe if Jake’s in the area to play the Devils or Rangers while the Islanders are on a home stand.

David couldn’t even manage to get through half of August before he missed Jake so much he literally flew to him. Jake didn’t last much longer before he did the same, which is probably the only reason David didn’t fly out to Detroit again, discomfort with the Lourdes or no. How is a season apart supposed to work?

“Sure,” David says.

“We got this, okay?” Jake says, like he knows David is unconvinced, as if repetition will change David’s mind. When David mutely nods, Jake laces their fingers together, squeezes David’s hand.

That ends up being more convincing than the words themselves, the touch of his skin lingering long after he’s gone, and by the time David stops feeling it, he’s already sent three texts, Let me know when you get home., even though he’s already said that, Hope you have a good flight., like that will have any impact whatsoever on the quality of Jake’s flight, and finally, It was good to see you.