Overall, Housman preferred the summer above all else.
Spring was full of pollen, bugs, finals and the buds of plants he held no interest for.
Winter was just too cold, midterms and family gatherings, chaos amidst the blizzards and flurries.
Autumn was a restraint, it was a boring in-between for winter and summer. It meant going back to school, it’s only attribute being the temperature for light enough jackets and it’s colour palette of oranges and yellows was nice enough.
But the summer…
In summer you had sweltering heat, sure, but you had liberty, excitement, and sport .
Now, Housman hated sports as much as the next poet, but there were people who didn’t .
People like Jackson, and all of his sports-playing friends.
People like Jackson who feel comfortable enough to change in front of all of his sports-playing friends without worrying that any of them are going to look at him just a little bit oddly.
The people like Housman were the ones who did, never while he was changing, of course. Just in general Housman looked at Jackson in ways that he probably shouldn’t have.
Ways that the school would surely frown at him for.
But did Housman care?
A little. But not enough to stop, clearly, as can be shown by Housman idly waiting for the sun to come back out and for winter to end.
Just to see his friend in his natural habitat. Careless and free in all the ways Housman wished he was.
All the ways Jackson made him feel.
Maybe Jackson could take up a winter sport?
Ah, but did Housman have any interest in asking that?
Not at all.
At least the winter was more of his time.
It was cold, and you could bundle up, read poetry all day on the break and no-one would judge you.
So he would wait. Just so he could see Jackson being himself again.
And just so Housman could feel himself again, without actually being it.
Because he could never be truly free, not with Jackson not with anyone.
That was just something he would have to bear.