make me end where i begun - Jesse/Andrew - NC17
BACK.
--
Andrew gives his story out in bits and pieces, whispering it into Jesse's skin late at night. He talks about being seventeen and too scared to say no and about being twenty-one and too cocksure. He talks about Michael and the mix of good and bad, and about other places, other times; faceless names and hopeless situations.
"You saved me," Andrew whispers sometimes, voice cracking and face burning hot.
"No," Jesse whispers back, clutching him tight and kissing his mouth. "You saved yourself."
The truth, he thinks, lands somewhere in between.
--
It's weird, Jesse thinks, to be this sure of something. They have ups and downs, good days and bad days. Andrew's gone a lot, days stretching into weeks, and Jesse can't just drop everything, even when he wants to.
Andrew pushes a lot. He's the kindest, gentlest, most gorgeous person Jesse ever knew, but he's also terrified and insecure and somehow just waiting for Jesse to snap. Jesse doesn't snap, but he also doesn't roll over. He stands strong, he argues back, he doesn't let Andrew get away with stirring shit just for the hell of it, but he never ever gives Andrew reason to doubt his love.
--
Whenever Andrew's been gone for too long Jesse starts missing him so much his chest aches with it. He tries to hide it, doesn't want Andrew to feel even guiltier about working all the time, but he's pretty sure that his desperate 3am phone calls because he needs to hear Andrew's voice are a dead giveaway.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, mouth pressed close to the microphone. "I shouldn't have called."
"Anytime, Jess," Andrew murmurs, voice still rough with sleep. "You can call me anytime. I want you to call me all the time, but that would be impractical."
Jesse listens to Andrew's even breaths, eyes fluttering closed while his lips tilts into a smile. "I miss you," he says.
"You too." Andrew's accent thickens when he's tired, Jesse likes listening to him. "I'll be home on Friday."
"Yeah," Jesse breathes, the tight knot in his stomach unsnarling. "That's good."
He falls asleep listening to Andrew breathe.
--
Jesse leaves the store in Emma's capable hands and flies out to LA to spend a couple of weeks with Andrew. They get their picture taken almost daily; walking, talking, touching, even kissing .
Andrew apologizes every time they get back to the hotel room, mouth tight with worry. Jesse repeats over and over that it's okay and it is. He knew what he was getting in to.
--
When he gets back to New York Jesse asks Emma to show him some of the pictures. She finds them fast enough that he's sure she already had them bookmarked. He stares for the longest time at his own face, at the way it seems to light up whenever he's looking at Andrew, at the way it gives everything away.
'I'm so in love with this man,' seems to be etched into his very features, evident in his every expression. He thinks that he looks pretty stupid.
"You're very popular with Andrew's fanbase," Emma says, nudging his shoulder.
"Andrew's fanbase is made up of fourteen year old girls," Jesse mutters, but he's secretly pleased.
--
It takes almost three months for Andrew to fully relax into their relationship but once he does he's the best boyfriend anyone could have ever asked for and Jesse doesn't really know how he got so lucky.
"Seriously, you have to stop sending me flowers," Jesse says, exasperated. "The apartment looks like a flower shop."
"But I like you," Andrew whines. "You should have all the nice things."
"Send me postcards," Jesse says. "They're smaller and they don't smell so much."
"It's like you don't even love me," Andrew says, dramatic, and a month ago that would have been the opening line for a fight; now it just isn't.
"I read on the internet the other day that I indeed love you very much. I think love-struck was the word they used," Jesse retorts.
"Have you been reading fanfiction again?"
Jesse flushes. It happened once, by accident, and he's pretty sure he will never fully recover. "My point is," he says smoothly, changing the subject. "That I do love you even though you're ridiculous; quite possibly because you are ridiculous."
"See," Andrew says smugly. "All the nice things."
Jesse groans.
--
Eventually people find the store and Jesse finds himself with more business than he's ever had before. People come in because they're curious, naturally, but most of them leave with a book, a rolled up map, or a bag of Emma's heavenly chocolate chip cookies.
Some of them come back, become regulars, talk to Jesse over the counter, a little shy, and hide behind the shelves whenever Andrew comes in. It's amusing and kind of sweet, and their presence makes up for the few entitled assholes that walk in from the street, spouting garbage and making nonsense demands. (But then this is New York and Jesse always got those. Some people just don't have manners.)
--
"I upended your entire life," Andrew says, guilty and a little sad, after watching Jesse deal with a wild flock of Andrew Garfield fans galloping around the store.
Jesse rolls his eyes. "You pretty much did that the first time we met," he says, reaching out to cup the back of Andrew's head, pulling him close enough to kiss. "Now, at least, there are perks."
Andrew smiles against his lips. "And what would those be?"
"Fancy parties, movie premieres, swag bags…" Jesse punctuates every word with a soft kiss, then he pulls back and holds Andrew's gaze. "You."
Andrew wraps his arms tight around Jesse's waist, kissing him slow, and Jesse can't even bring himself to care when Emma walks in on them and whistles obnoxiously.
--
On their six month anniversary Andrew brings Jesse breakfast in bed (Jesse doesn't throw it up) and says, "Don't you think it's time you stopped watering my plants?"
Jesse kisses him, sweet and slow, and whispers ,yes, into his mouth. He's not scared, not even a little bit. It feels just right.
--
Two weeks later Andrew's plants move to Jesse's windowsill and Andrew's furniture moves to storage. Jesse stares long and hard at the new additions to the household and says,
"I guess I won't stop watering your plants after all."
Andrew wraps his arms around Jesse's chest from behind and presses a kiss to the side of his neck.
"They're our plants now," he says.
Jesse's heart grows too big for his chest and he turns around in Andrew's arms, tilting his head back to look up at him. Andrew stares back, eyes wide and lips curled into a smile.
"Hey," he says. "I love you."
"How convenient," Jesse murmurs. "Because I love you, too."
--
It's almost a year later and Jesse's doing the dishes, soap studs climbing up his arms and fingers pruning, when it suddenly hits him right out of left field: he's happy -- truly irrevocably happy -- and it's the scariest thing that’s ever happened to him.
The cup he's washing slips from his soapy fingers and clatters back into the sink while he blinks at the wall, trying to wrap his mind around how this snuck up on him exactly.
"Did you drop something?" Andrew asks, coming into the kitchen. "I really hope it was that truly horrendous plate we got from aunt Maura."
"No, I…" Jesse swallows, turns to face Andrew, momentarily losing his train of thought with the way Andrew's shirt is half unbuttoned. "I'm happy."
"Oh no," Andrew says seriously, coming closer to pull Jesse into his arms. "Maybe you should seek help for that."
Jesse swallows again, almost smiles and hides his face in Andrew's neck. "I have to… I have to call everyone. Something terrible must have happened."
"Okay," Andrew says easily. "I'll help, but first… uh… will you marry me?"
Jesse's heart stutters and he tilts his head back, looking up at Andrew. "What?"
"I said," Andrew repeats, smiling. "Will you marry me?"
"It's like you're trying to kill everyone I know," Jesse says weakly, clutching at Andrew's shirt because he's pretty sure he's moments away from crying, or laughing hysterically, or maybe just fainting. Or quite possibly all of the above.
Andrew's smile widens until it overtakes his entire face. "Was that a yes?" he asks.
"Yeah," Jesse whispers. "I mean yes. Yes."
Jesse was wrong, but it doesn't even matter. He's certainly truly irrevocably happy now.
--
Nothing terrible happened. Jesse's oldest sister has the flu and Andrew's mom destroyed her favorite vase but aside from that everyone is fine and also thinks it was about time.
"I need a moment," Jesse says, putting down the phone after talking to Justin, the last person on his list.
"Okay," Andrew says. "Will it be a long moment? Should I be worried?"
"No, it's…" Jesse sighs, moves closer until he's pretty much draped all over Andrew. "You can share my moment."
"Best moment ever," Andrew exclaims, wrapping his arms around Jesse's back.
Jesse takes a moment to appreciate just how ridiculous his future husband is, and then he needs another moment for his heart to stop fluttering around with happiness. It's seriously freaking him out.
"My entire worldview is askew," Jesse mumbles into Andrew's stupid shirt, more off now than on. "I'm happy and doom doesn't seem to be imminent."
"If it makes you feel better, my left knee kind of hurts a little," Andrew says, touching the back of Jesse's neck.
"Surprisingly it doesn't," Jesse murmurs, propping his chin up against Andrew's chest. "I don't like it when you're hurting."
Andrew looks deep into Jesse's eyes and Jesse can feel his gaze all the way down to his toes. "I'm not hurting anymore," he says seriously.
Jesse wants to deflect, wants to say something light-hearted or silly, but he can't look away from Andrew's eyes and the story they tell. It's like his life is flashing before his eyes, except it's not his life, it's theirs, and his chest clenches so hard he thinks he might be having a heart attack.
He sees Andrew up on the roof the first time they met, too thin and too hurt, angry with the world at large and Jesse in particular but still worthy of, always worthy of, an outstretched trembling hand. He didn't expect Andrew to take it then, didn't expect them to end up here.
He see Andrew on that night, bleeding on the floor, hands lifted to ward off another blow. He sees himself swinging the frying pan, brave like he's never been before, and hears the crack when it connects. He sees Michael running and himself helping Andrew off the floor, cleaning up the cut on his lip and holding him close. He remembers how helpless he felt, how lost and scared. He remembers how much he hated himself for wanting even in that moment.
He sees Andrew, over and over again, sees his eyes come to life and his body fill out, sees him grow and heal and become whole. He sees his own part in it -- his helpless love, his gentle touch -- and lets himself believe that he helped.
He sees them, months ago, shopping for bed sheets and arguing about colors. He sees them, walking the red carpet together for the first time, Jesse's sweaty hand firmly anchored in Andrew's. He sees the ups and downs, and twists and turns that got them here, to this couch and this moment. He sees everything and he's not scared.
"I love you," he whispers and he says it every day but he never meant it more, eyes suspiciously blurry. "Andrew… I love you."
"I know," Andrew answers, kisses his mouth. "Jess, baby, I know and I love you too, so much."
They stay forever on the couch, limbs helplessly tangled and faces pressed together. They kiss and laugh and talk in whispers. They outline their future, their marriage, their dreams, lost in each other, and the moment, and everything they are, have been, and will be to each other.
Jesse has never been happier and it no longer feels as if the world is about to end. Andrew anchors him, their heartstrings hopelessly tangled, and everything is okay in the space between their faces.
Andrew touches his hair, his ear, the side of his face, cups the back of his head gently and kisses him, murmuring the ending lines of one of the poems he wrote down for Jesse, a million kisses and a year ago.
"Thy firmness makes my circle just, and makes me end where I begun."
And Jesse finally gets it, gets that he is to Andrew what Andrew is to him, an anchor, not dragging him down but keeping him grounded and he holds Andrew tighter, kisses him harder, and for the first time in his life he lives fully in the moment, their moment, no worries, no regrets. He is home.
-The End-
NOTES AND THINGS:
Works Cited:
1. Always, Pablo Neruda
2. i carry your heart with me, ee cummings
3. Sonnet #18, William Shakespeare
4. My Body Is A Cage, Arcade Fire
5. A Valediction Forbidding Mourning, John Donne
6. Wonder, Ibn Arabi
7. somewhere i have travelled, ee cummings
("Mom held my hand when I wrote those postcards to you," Andrew murmurs, hiding the words into the dip of Jesse's collarbone. "How's that for pathetic?"
"That's probably the bravest thing I ever heard," Jesse answers, turning his face to kiss Andrew proper. "I love you.")
Trivia:
Jesse's shop is called Jesse's Books, Maps & Coffee.
My favorite scene from this fic ended up on the cutting room floor. I love it, but it just didn't fit.
The Justin sporadically mentioned throughout the fic is Justin Bartha, not Timberlake.
In case you were wondering, the guy is Justin Timberlake. There was supposed to be a pun somewhere, but it also didn't fit.
Andrew's taste in postcards really suck.
Other thing that didn't fit:
Jesse tries to smile, but he's pretty sure it comes out wonky, and leans forward to give Andrew a kiss. "You ruined me for all other men," he says when he pulls back.
"I sure hope so," Andrew growls, sliding one hand down to give Jesse's ass a possessive squeeze.
"I just agreed to marry you," Jesse points out. "I don't think you have to start worrying just yet."
Andrew's eyes drop to Jesse's lips and he squeezes Jesse's ass again. "Speaking of marriage," he murmurs. "Are we still having a moment or can we have sex now?"
"What does marriage have to do with… mphmmph."
Additional additional notes:
I wrote the bulk of this fic in one continuous burst of inspiration. Then I rewrote it. Hopefully it still makes sense.
Thanks for reading. <333