psyche [part three] [11 to 14]
Title: psyche
Author: twilight_rush
Rated: pg-13
Masterlist
11
“Come downstairs so we can talk. I’m making tea, you want some?” Girlie asks, and though Jamie doesn’t reply she takes it as a yes since he’s following her without protest.
Jamie plops on the couch and has a sudden wish for the room to be dark. Dark enough so he can’t see Girlie’s face and she can’t see him. Dark enough so he can feel like he’s hiding.
Girlie comes back with two cups of warm tea: lots of sugar in Jamie’s, a pinch in hers. He takes a sip and focuses on the burning sensation it leaves on his tongue as Girlie sits by him. He sits it on the table and doesn’t touch it for the rest of the time.
“What was going on?” She asks. Jamie’s brain is too muddled to come up with a clever lie fast enough.
“Nothing,” he says instead, and he wants to hit himself for the answer.
“Really, Jamie?”
“I-we-were just talking. Nothing serious.”
“It didn’t look like ‘nothing serious.’” Her hand drifts to his hair, fingers running through strands, petting him. He involuntary rests his head on her shoulder and wishes his body felt as calm as her actions.
“What’s going on with you?” she sighs, and his eyes instantly begin to burn with the tears forming, blurring his sight. The question feels different from the other times she’s asked what’s wrong?
“I can’t do this,” he chokes.
“What’re you talking about?” She lightly grabs his head and forces him to look at her. “Jamie, what’s wrong? What happened with Jean?”
“It’s not about him,” he snaps. Not right now. He can’t worry about him now. No matter how deeply he breathes there doesn’t seem to be enough oxygen in the room.
He promised he’d tell Girlie soon.
He promised himself.
“It’s about Zack,” he mumbles, the adrenaline in him speeding up. When Girlie nods and Jamie’s certain he won’t pass out, he talks.
It hurts but he does it.
*******
He feels empty. Not empty as in he doesn’t have a soul anymore; he’s devoid of emotions, or he feels like he’s dead again.
He’s told her everything -- everything Zack's ever done to him and he has nothing left to say. The pit of him is empty, spacious, like the sky is once the gray rain clouds vanish.
She hugs him tightly, stomach pressing against him, and he tries to remember how far along Girlie is, how developed the baby might be. He feels her tears wetting his shirt as she says something he doesn't quite hear. He makes out the words I'm so sorry and everything’s going to be fine. But he's too busy thinking I can't believe she believes me to fully grasp them.
12
When the Children’s service worker comes and interviews Jamie, he almost doesn’t go through with it. He thinks any moment Zack is going to come through the door and convince everyone that Jamie is a liar.
Jamie knows he’s supposed to feel glad that people actually believe him and care and he’s not as alone as he thinks. But he hates the feeling he gets from answering the questions, to having to retell everything. It’s now out in the open and not something he can keep in his head and try to ignore. For some reason his skin burns when they pour all their sympathy and care onto him, and he doesn’t know why.
If he were to tell Emilia that, she’d probably say it’s because he feels he doesn’t deserve it. It’s normal for him to feel like that with something so “traumatic.”
He just wants it all to be over.
13
The afternoon brings a dull sunlight and a stinging coldness into Jean’s room. He buries further into his sheets though he’s wide awake and can’t sleep anymore. He eventually burrows out and looks at his phone for the time. He has a few text messages but ignores them and looks at the two missed calls.
One from Lewis and one from Alexandria.
A flash of anger, of resentment comes, but he kicks it back down. He calls her back before he loses his nerve, and she answers after the second ring.
“Hul - looo?” Alexandria greets, unnervingly cheery compared to Jean’s mood. He says nothing, thinking maybe he can quietly hang up or just say he dialed her number by mistake.
“Hello? Jean?”
“You called me?” he goes ahead and ask.
“Yeah, I did. Ah, were you sleeping? How are you?”
Jean turns onto his back, eyes set lazily on the ceiling. “I was and so far my life is bordering fantastic and complete shit.”
“Sucky.”
“I visited Jamie a few days ago though.”
“Yeah. How that go?”
“You mean he didn’t tell you?” he gasps.
“Why are you so snappy?” she asks and Jean wishes he could throw his phone at her face.
“Things didn’t go well.”
“Oh,” and that’s all she says. He expects her to prod more information out of him, like she normally does, but she merely stays quiet.
“What do you want, Alexandria?” Jean yells. “God.”
”I don’t - I mean, see how you’re doing? Talk about Jamie, and stuff.”
Jean snorts and he can’t help the bitterness that spills out of his mouth. “I’m tired of everything and I . . . I really don’t want to talk about Jamie right now.”
“Why?”
“I’m done.”
“What do you mean you’re ‘done?’ Why would you say that?” she shouts, voice sounding like static.
Jean is unaware of how pale his fingers are becoming from gripping the phone so tight. He resists the deep urge to smash it against the wall, pretend it’s Alexandria, Jamie, himself, and watch it crumble into plastic pieces and glass.
“’Cause I can’t fucking deal with anything and I really don’t like you right now,” he admits, and while she stutters he keeps talking. “You and Jamie can get together and figure out you two’s messed up problems, but I’m fucking done, bye.”
He hangs up, tosses the phone on the floor, and feels like the worst person to have ever been born.
*******
When tomorrow comes Alexandria tries to not let everything that happened between her and Jean get to her. But every so often she feels the need to call him and ask what did he mean her and Jamie can get together? Why did he sound jealous? Jamie’s her friend, and they’re just close. It’s nothing like - and she’s assuming - what Jamie and Jean have. Or had. She’s not sure anymore. She wants to call him but knows he won’t answer. After a brief internet searching and a little coaxing to her dad, he drives her to Monroe, where Artemis Phantom is doing a mini acoustic set.
After Dawson tells her to come down the street to the coffee shop when she’s finished, she rushes into Monroe. Several people sit cross-legged on the floor, surrounding Artemis Phantom, while others hang out at the back with their arms crossed, bobbing their hands.
Alexandria goes near the bar so she can still see the boys but Jean can’t spot her. His head is low, eyes staring past the audience, and not completely there mentally as he sings.
Songs that are usually cheerful are now a mess of bitterness and regret. He doesn’t want to be there, but the audience doesn’t seem to notice. If anything they probably think it’s a new version, or since the song is being played acoustically it sounds different from the louder version. The band continues on and Jean’s voice rains melancholy on Alexandria’s head.
She holds back once the show is over, giving the band time to do their thing. The whole time she sees Jean faking it: forced smiles, painted on cheerful exterior. When she hears someone ask if he’s okay, she thinks she hears Jean answer I was a lot better before, but it’s nothing big.
She dashes to him when he steps away from everyone, and before he can flip her off or run away she grabs his arm.
“We gotta talk, or I can talk and you just listen,” she stresses. Jean looks annoyed before shrugging and leading her to the upper level of the club. Usually people would be there to watch a show from above but today it’s empty. They sit at a table and Jean sneers at her.
“I should’ve known you were gonna come after me,” Jean says, slouching in his chair. His eyes are heavy and dark, and for a moment Alexandria is somewhat afraid of him. Immediately after she gets a strong need to comfort him, to hug him, but she holds back for now.
“What was up with you yesterday?” she asks.
“You really want me to explain?”
“Yeah, since now not only do I have to worry about Jamie, I have to worry about you, too, apparently.”
“I don’t need you babying me.”
“I don’t care.”
“If I tell you will you leave me alone?”
“No.”
Jean laughs so loud several voices stop and people look up at them. He waves at them before looking back at Alexandria.
“While I was visiting Jamie, everything was cool, and then . . . I guess we hate each other now,” Jean rushes, frowning. “That’s all I’m saying.”
“He doesn’t hate you and you don’t hate him,” she says. “You can’t just ignore each other or be bitchy about it ---“
“You don’t even know why we were arguing. You can’t tell me what I should feel or do or anything. Why can’t you just back off?”
He thought her eyes would widen and she would stutter as she tried to find something to say. She simply looks at him, unnerved, keeping her peace like his comment did nothing to her. For a second Jean wonders if he’s the one sounding whiny.
He really hates her.
She rubs her forehead and then slams her hands on the table, rattling it. “You know what? Just forget it. This is pointless. I don’t even know why I’m here anymore,” she squeaks, face bunching up like she’s going to brawl.
“It’s just, I don’t want to lose him,” she goes on. “You don’t either. That’s why we have to be there for him. You know he’s leaving tomorrow for that place right? I’m freaking out because what if he doesn’t come home better? What if he tries to hurt himself again? Especially since -“ and she stops, not sure if she should say the rest.
She decides not to.
“I don’t think he wants to talk to me,” Jean murmurs, and once again he feels frightened.
“Yeah,” she sighs, wiping her nose and standing up. “I . . . I’ll go now. But, um, just know, you don’t need to be ‘jealous’ or whatever. Of me and Jamie. He likes you so much. I don’t have what you have with him. And I won’t ever.”
She leaves and the only thing on Jean’s mind is him taking up drinking, so he can get drunk and forget everything.
14
The day Jamie is leaving is the day Alexandria leaves a letter in the mailbox. It has his name on the back and in a corner she’s scrawled: I wish I could be there to see you off, but know that I’m thinking of you. Read this when you can. - Alexandria.
Just that little note calms the anxiety in him, and he holds onto it till he’s in the car and ready to go to Solstice.
He’ll be in a strange, brown-bricked building surrounded by kids his own age and some younger. He’ll feel out of place and not be able to relate to anyone. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to interact with the people there or how he’s supposed to talk with bunch of kids who are probably just as or more messed up than he is. And if he does horribly they might make him stay there longer, or ship him out somewhere else.
When his thoughts refuse to not be negative he decides to reads Alexandria’s letter. He doesn't expect it to be much, but when he sees it's more than he thought it would be, he wishes she was there so he can tell her You're perfect and I'm sorry I never appreciated you enough.
*******
Jamie,
I wish I could’ve told you all this face to face, but I guess a letter will have to do. I think it’ll sound better. I’ll try not to babble too long.
You know, I’ve had some friends before. But we weren’t really close and I’d only talk to them at school. I had a sort of “best friend” once, but it didn't last long. Maybe I just have high expectations, but I've always wanted the kind of best friend I hear people talk about so much with dreamy looks on their faces that I wanted to slap off. I couldn’t get it though. I started to think maybe I wasn’t meant for that kind of stuff and friendships were just overrated.
And then I met you and it's been the weirdest friendship ever.
I don't care what you say but you are a good friend. I find it so weird that you’re still my friend, considering how demanding and annoying I can be. You’re so quiet and shy and like to keep things to yourself and I’m always trying to force you to tell me something or do something. I know it’s irritating. I know I should back off sometimes. I can't help it. It's probably why people don’t like being around me. I don’t see how you can put up with me.
You stick up for me. You forgive me so easily when you shouldn't.
When I asked you if you wanted to be my friend, I didn't think you'd say yes. I didn't think you'd stick with me after a few weeks. I wasn't sure we’d last long. But you’re still here. You have no idea how happy that makes me feel. I hope you feel the same.
There’s one thing I have to tell you though. Remember that girl Sierra we ran into from forever ago at the store? The one I said I hated because she said something about my mom?
I don’t know how she knew (or maybe it was obvious to everyone and I was oblivious) but Sierra knew that my mom abused me. I don’t remember what I did for her to say this, but she had said, “No wonder your mom doesn’t like you and beats you up.” I punched her in the face and was suspended. That was in the 5th grade.
A month after that my dad finally managed to get custody of me and we moved. My mom got jail time and I haven’t seen her since then. I guess that’s the reason why I’m the kind of person I am now. I know how that “keep silent and just don’t think about it” thing works. I don’t want you to feel alone.
So that’s why I’ll always be here for you.
I love you Jamie. Thank you for everything.
Love,
Alexandria
Author: twilight_rush
Rated: pg-13
Masterlist
11
“Come downstairs so we can talk. I’m making tea, you want some?” Girlie asks, and though Jamie doesn’t reply she takes it as a yes since he’s following her without protest.
Jamie plops on the couch and has a sudden wish for the room to be dark. Dark enough so he can’t see Girlie’s face and she can’t see him. Dark enough so he can feel like he’s hiding.
Girlie comes back with two cups of warm tea: lots of sugar in Jamie’s, a pinch in hers. He takes a sip and focuses on the burning sensation it leaves on his tongue as Girlie sits by him. He sits it on the table and doesn’t touch it for the rest of the time.
“What was going on?” She asks. Jamie’s brain is too muddled to come up with a clever lie fast enough.
“Nothing,” he says instead, and he wants to hit himself for the answer.
“Really, Jamie?”
“I-we-were just talking. Nothing serious.”
“It didn’t look like ‘nothing serious.’” Her hand drifts to his hair, fingers running through strands, petting him. He involuntary rests his head on her shoulder and wishes his body felt as calm as her actions.
“What’s going on with you?” she sighs, and his eyes instantly begin to burn with the tears forming, blurring his sight. The question feels different from the other times she’s asked what’s wrong?
“I can’t do this,” he chokes.
“What’re you talking about?” She lightly grabs his head and forces him to look at her. “Jamie, what’s wrong? What happened with Jean?”
“It’s not about him,” he snaps. Not right now. He can’t worry about him now. No matter how deeply he breathes there doesn’t seem to be enough oxygen in the room.
He promised he’d tell Girlie soon.
He promised himself.
“It’s about Zack,” he mumbles, the adrenaline in him speeding up. When Girlie nods and Jamie’s certain he won’t pass out, he talks.
It hurts but he does it.
*******
He feels empty. Not empty as in he doesn’t have a soul anymore; he’s devoid of emotions, or he feels like he’s dead again.
He’s told her everything -- everything Zack's ever done to him and he has nothing left to say. The pit of him is empty, spacious, like the sky is once the gray rain clouds vanish.
She hugs him tightly, stomach pressing against him, and he tries to remember how far along Girlie is, how developed the baby might be. He feels her tears wetting his shirt as she says something he doesn't quite hear. He makes out the words I'm so sorry and everything’s going to be fine. But he's too busy thinking I can't believe she believes me to fully grasp them.
12
When the Children’s service worker comes and interviews Jamie, he almost doesn’t go through with it. He thinks any moment Zack is going to come through the door and convince everyone that Jamie is a liar.
Jamie knows he’s supposed to feel glad that people actually believe him and care and he’s not as alone as he thinks. But he hates the feeling he gets from answering the questions, to having to retell everything. It’s now out in the open and not something he can keep in his head and try to ignore. For some reason his skin burns when they pour all their sympathy and care onto him, and he doesn’t know why.
If he were to tell Emilia that, she’d probably say it’s because he feels he doesn’t deserve it. It’s normal for him to feel like that with something so “traumatic.”
He just wants it all to be over.
13
The afternoon brings a dull sunlight and a stinging coldness into Jean’s room. He buries further into his sheets though he’s wide awake and can’t sleep anymore. He eventually burrows out and looks at his phone for the time. He has a few text messages but ignores them and looks at the two missed calls.
One from Lewis and one from Alexandria.
A flash of anger, of resentment comes, but he kicks it back down. He calls her back before he loses his nerve, and she answers after the second ring.
“Hul - looo?” Alexandria greets, unnervingly cheery compared to Jean’s mood. He says nothing, thinking maybe he can quietly hang up or just say he dialed her number by mistake.
“Hello? Jean?”
“You called me?” he goes ahead and ask.
“Yeah, I did. Ah, were you sleeping? How are you?”
Jean turns onto his back, eyes set lazily on the ceiling. “I was and so far my life is bordering fantastic and complete shit.”
“Sucky.”
“I visited Jamie a few days ago though.”
“Yeah. How that go?”
“You mean he didn’t tell you?” he gasps.
“Why are you so snappy?” she asks and Jean wishes he could throw his phone at her face.
“Things didn’t go well.”
“Oh,” and that’s all she says. He expects her to prod more information out of him, like she normally does, but she merely stays quiet.
“What do you want, Alexandria?” Jean yells. “God.”
”I don’t - I mean, see how you’re doing? Talk about Jamie, and stuff.”
Jean snorts and he can’t help the bitterness that spills out of his mouth. “I’m tired of everything and I . . . I really don’t want to talk about Jamie right now.”
“Why?”
“I’m done.”
“What do you mean you’re ‘done?’ Why would you say that?” she shouts, voice sounding like static.
Jean is unaware of how pale his fingers are becoming from gripping the phone so tight. He resists the deep urge to smash it against the wall, pretend it’s Alexandria, Jamie, himself, and watch it crumble into plastic pieces and glass.
“’Cause I can’t fucking deal with anything and I really don’t like you right now,” he admits, and while she stutters he keeps talking. “You and Jamie can get together and figure out you two’s messed up problems, but I’m fucking done, bye.”
He hangs up, tosses the phone on the floor, and feels like the worst person to have ever been born.
*******
When tomorrow comes Alexandria tries to not let everything that happened between her and Jean get to her. But every so often she feels the need to call him and ask what did he mean her and Jamie can get together? Why did he sound jealous? Jamie’s her friend, and they’re just close. It’s nothing like - and she’s assuming - what Jamie and Jean have. Or had. She’s not sure anymore. She wants to call him but knows he won’t answer. After a brief internet searching and a little coaxing to her dad, he drives her to Monroe, where Artemis Phantom is doing a mini acoustic set.
After Dawson tells her to come down the street to the coffee shop when she’s finished, she rushes into Monroe. Several people sit cross-legged on the floor, surrounding Artemis Phantom, while others hang out at the back with their arms crossed, bobbing their hands.
Alexandria goes near the bar so she can still see the boys but Jean can’t spot her. His head is low, eyes staring past the audience, and not completely there mentally as he sings.
Songs that are usually cheerful are now a mess of bitterness and regret. He doesn’t want to be there, but the audience doesn’t seem to notice. If anything they probably think it’s a new version, or since the song is being played acoustically it sounds different from the louder version. The band continues on and Jean’s voice rains melancholy on Alexandria’s head.
She holds back once the show is over, giving the band time to do their thing. The whole time she sees Jean faking it: forced smiles, painted on cheerful exterior. When she hears someone ask if he’s okay, she thinks she hears Jean answer I was a lot better before, but it’s nothing big.
She dashes to him when he steps away from everyone, and before he can flip her off or run away she grabs his arm.
“We gotta talk, or I can talk and you just listen,” she stresses. Jean looks annoyed before shrugging and leading her to the upper level of the club. Usually people would be there to watch a show from above but today it’s empty. They sit at a table and Jean sneers at her.
“I should’ve known you were gonna come after me,” Jean says, slouching in his chair. His eyes are heavy and dark, and for a moment Alexandria is somewhat afraid of him. Immediately after she gets a strong need to comfort him, to hug him, but she holds back for now.
“What was up with you yesterday?” she asks.
“You really want me to explain?”
“Yeah, since now not only do I have to worry about Jamie, I have to worry about you, too, apparently.”
“I don’t need you babying me.”
“I don’t care.”
“If I tell you will you leave me alone?”
“No.”
Jean laughs so loud several voices stop and people look up at them. He waves at them before looking back at Alexandria.
“While I was visiting Jamie, everything was cool, and then . . . I guess we hate each other now,” Jean rushes, frowning. “That’s all I’m saying.”
“He doesn’t hate you and you don’t hate him,” she says. “You can’t just ignore each other or be bitchy about it ---“
“You don’t even know why we were arguing. You can’t tell me what I should feel or do or anything. Why can’t you just back off?”
He thought her eyes would widen and she would stutter as she tried to find something to say. She simply looks at him, unnerved, keeping her peace like his comment did nothing to her. For a second Jean wonders if he’s the one sounding whiny.
He really hates her.
She rubs her forehead and then slams her hands on the table, rattling it. “You know what? Just forget it. This is pointless. I don’t even know why I’m here anymore,” she squeaks, face bunching up like she’s going to brawl.
“It’s just, I don’t want to lose him,” she goes on. “You don’t either. That’s why we have to be there for him. You know he’s leaving tomorrow for that place right? I’m freaking out because what if he doesn’t come home better? What if he tries to hurt himself again? Especially since -“ and she stops, not sure if she should say the rest.
She decides not to.
“I don’t think he wants to talk to me,” Jean murmurs, and once again he feels frightened.
“Yeah,” she sighs, wiping her nose and standing up. “I . . . I’ll go now. But, um, just know, you don’t need to be ‘jealous’ or whatever. Of me and Jamie. He likes you so much. I don’t have what you have with him. And I won’t ever.”
She leaves and the only thing on Jean’s mind is him taking up drinking, so he can get drunk and forget everything.
14
The day Jamie is leaving is the day Alexandria leaves a letter in the mailbox. It has his name on the back and in a corner she’s scrawled: I wish I could be there to see you off, but know that I’m thinking of you. Read this when you can. - Alexandria.
Just that little note calms the anxiety in him, and he holds onto it till he’s in the car and ready to go to Solstice.
He’ll be in a strange, brown-bricked building surrounded by kids his own age and some younger. He’ll feel out of place and not be able to relate to anyone. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to interact with the people there or how he’s supposed to talk with bunch of kids who are probably just as or more messed up than he is. And if he does horribly they might make him stay there longer, or ship him out somewhere else.
When his thoughts refuse to not be negative he decides to reads Alexandria’s letter. He doesn't expect it to be much, but when he sees it's more than he thought it would be, he wishes she was there so he can tell her You're perfect and I'm sorry I never appreciated you enough.
*******
Jamie,
I wish I could’ve told you all this face to face, but I guess a letter will have to do. I think it’ll sound better. I’ll try not to babble too long.
You know, I’ve had some friends before. But we weren’t really close and I’d only talk to them at school. I had a sort of “best friend” once, but it didn't last long. Maybe I just have high expectations, but I've always wanted the kind of best friend I hear people talk about so much with dreamy looks on their faces that I wanted to slap off. I couldn’t get it though. I started to think maybe I wasn’t meant for that kind of stuff and friendships were just overrated.
And then I met you and it's been the weirdest friendship ever.
I don't care what you say but you are a good friend. I find it so weird that you’re still my friend, considering how demanding and annoying I can be. You’re so quiet and shy and like to keep things to yourself and I’m always trying to force you to tell me something or do something. I know it’s irritating. I know I should back off sometimes. I can't help it. It's probably why people don’t like being around me. I don’t see how you can put up with me.
You stick up for me. You forgive me so easily when you shouldn't.
When I asked you if you wanted to be my friend, I didn't think you'd say yes. I didn't think you'd stick with me after a few weeks. I wasn't sure we’d last long. But you’re still here. You have no idea how happy that makes me feel. I hope you feel the same.
There’s one thing I have to tell you though. Remember that girl Sierra we ran into from forever ago at the store? The one I said I hated because she said something about my mom?
I don’t know how she knew (or maybe it was obvious to everyone and I was oblivious) but Sierra knew that my mom abused me. I don’t remember what I did for her to say this, but she had said, “No wonder your mom doesn’t like you and beats you up.” I punched her in the face and was suspended. That was in the 5th grade.
A month after that my dad finally managed to get custody of me and we moved. My mom got jail time and I haven’t seen her since then. I guess that’s the reason why I’m the kind of person I am now. I know how that “keep silent and just don’t think about it” thing works. I don’t want you to feel alone.
So that’s why I’ll always be here for you.
I love you Jamie. Thank you for everything.
Love,
Alexandria