(500) Days Of Jesse - Part Two
Title: (500) Days Of Jesse
Part: Two
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Jewnicorn/(500) Days Of Summer crossover. Loosely based on the plot of the film.
Disclaimer: Never happened, all a figment of my imagination. I am not affiliated with anyone mentioned in this work of fiction. (500) Days Of Summer is property of Fox Searchlight Pictures.
A/N: Remember to pay close attention to the numbers before each section, they denote the number of days that Andrew and Jesse have known one another at each point -same as the film, of course- it'll help you in keeping track of where they are on their 500 day timeline :)
Previous: Part One
~
(31)
Okay, so he’s pretty sure that he’s got the wrong place. Andrew reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the napkin on which Jesse had scribbled the address. He looks down the street and checks out the signs. This seems to be the right place -he's lived here for five years, he should know his way around by now- but at the same time it just doesn’t look like the sort of joint in which someone like Jesse would hang out. Jesse had said to Andrew that he, Armie and his fiancée, Elizabeth, would meet him in a bar tonight, but one thing that Andrew was definitely not expecting it to be, was a karaoke bar.
Based on thirty days of first impressions alone, Andrew had assumed that Jesse was the type to hang out in darkened corners of Starbucks -or some other, less commercial coffee shop- drinking a beverage that would take a good ten minutes to order because he'd need outline precisely how many milliliters of this-or-that the mug should contain, reading a book that's been dubbed a 'classic' simply because it's the sort of book that everyone wants to read, but no one can be bothered to read... except Jesse, of course.
When Andrew thinks of Jesse in a karaoke bar, he experiences the same feeling he felt when he was in secondary school, staring down at a sheet of algebra problems, knowing that it ought to -and does- make sense for everyone else, but not for him.
He takes one last look up at the street signs, shrugs and says “Fuck it”, before walking in. If this does turn out to be the wrong place, then he can just grab a drink, call Jesse, and ask for directions.
Upon entering, he's smacked in the face by the sound of rumbling, bass-heavy guitar music, off-key singing, and what thirty conversations would sound like if they were poured into a blender and turned up high.
“Oh wow,” Andrew smiles, finding that it’s not actually that bad in here. It’s looks pretty similar to the bar in which he works himself, except a little larger, and nicer smelling. The singing comes courtesy of the drunk girl up on the stage at the end of the room, performing a spectacularly awful rendition of Sex On Fire. Andrew laughs to himself, hands in his pockets.
Everyone smiles and laughs around the tables, as if every single person in this place knows one another personally. It’s quite nice to see that, and despite Andrew’s earlier expectations, he doesn’t feel out of place at all. He’d spent most of early evening struggling over what to wear, he didn’t know whether to go dressy or casual. In the end he went with a little of both. Designer jeans, an old Green Day t-shirt and his regular black jacket.
The only problem? He can’t spot Jesse anywhere.
He glances at each table, they have little lamps on them that illuminate each and every person’s face with a buttery yellow glow, but not one of these faces resembles Jesse’s. No one with cheek bones as perfect as his, no one with a jaw line as angular as his, not a single corkscrew curl to be seen.
Looks like it's time for Andrew to order a beer and get his cell-phone out.
But then, Andrew notices a pretty brunette woman sat in a booth at the very end of the room, just to the left of the stage. She's not looking at him, but she is pointing his way, talking to someone who’s sat across from her, a person that Andrew can’t see due to the chest high separators between booths. Then, as if from no where, Jesse’s frowning face pops up and out of the very same booth in which the woman is sitting, looking, well, a bit like a meerkat.
It was him that she was talking to?
Once he spots Andrew, Jesse smiles excitedly and waves him over.
“Thank God,” Andrew sighs, turning to the side to squeeze between tables, whispering brief apologies to the people that he’s now forcing to move out of the way. “Sorry, sorry.”
Finally, he makes it to the booth, and finds that it’s not only Jesse and this -he has only just noticed upon getting a closer look- gorgeous woman in here, there’s a guy too. This must be Armie, blonde, tall even when sitting, incredibly broad, with a kind face. Basically, this guy looks as though someone has plunged their hand into a book of fairytales and pulled Prince Charming straight out of it.
All three of them are smiling up at him. This is going to be, by far, the most bizarre grouping of people that he's ever spent time with.
“Hey,” he says. Should he sit down? There’s no where to sit though, unless he tells someone to move.
“Hey, I can‘t believe you actually came!” Jesse calls over the tail-end of the drunk-girls ‘singing‘, if you could call it that. His face is bright and excited as he scooches over to make room for Andrew, patting the space that he’s just created. “Sit down.”
So Andrew does, bending his notoriously awkward limbs in the hope of getting his legs under the table. Jesus, clearly Armie was able to do it, so it can’t be that hard. “I um, I wouldn’t expect you to hang out in this sort of place.”
“I don’t usually, Elizabeth picked it out,” Jesse says, leaning into Andrew’s ear to make sure that he’s heard. Andrew feels Jesse’s warm breath against his neck, ruffling a few strands of his hair around. It tingles, he kind of wishes that he and Jesse were here alone now.
“Oh yeah? Hi, by the way!” Andrew says to her.
“He’s British? You failed to tell us that, Jesse.“ She smiles kindly, playing with the stem of her martini glass. “Hi!”
“Hey, Man!” Armie leans forward, extends a hand. “Armie.”
“I know,” Andrew replies -and once he’s removed his jacket- shakes his hand. Jesus, it’s huge, he can barely get a good grip on it. “Andrew.”
Armie grins in a way that suggests that he knows something that Andrew doesn‘t, and looks away. “I know!”
Then, straight out of no where, Jesse’s hand is on Andrew’s bare forearm, not in a tight, grippy sort of way, but in a gentle, ‘I‘m here‘ sort of way. This is the first time that they’ve made actual physical contact. Andrew can feel his heart beating not only in his chest, but in his fingertips too. Jesse has small hands, the kind of hands that you want to hold, cup into yours and blow on to keep them warm when it’s cold outside.
“They already know who you are,” Jesse says timidly, this time at a normal level because the bar has lulled into a moment of brief quiet as the drunk Kings Of Leon girl vacates the stage, making room for the next performer.
Andrew can feel the corners of his mouth tugging up into a smile. This has got to mean something. “You told them about me?”
“Oh yeah,” Armie says over the sounds of the next song starting up. The guy on stage has chosen to sing Can’t Stop by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Andrew prays that he’ll do it at least a little bit of justice.
“We knew who you were weeks ago," Elizabeth adds happily, sitting back in her seat.
“Oh really?” Andrew asks. Jesse’s sunk down in his seat with clear embarrassment, but Andrew can just tell that he’s smiling too. Perhaps Andrew isn‘t the only one with a hopeless crush. Although, he does feel that thinking that is a little presumptuous. He changes the subject. “So, how do you guys know each other?”
“Armie does deliveries for the store,” Jesse explains.
“Oh okay, cool.”
“So Andrew, you gonna sing something?” Elizabeth asks. “Armie and I had just finished Perfect Ten by The Beautiful South before you got here.”
“Uh, no, probably not.” Andrew scratches the back of his head, averts his eyes in the hope of avoiding Elizabeth‘s. He has this vague idea that this woman is one of those women with a penetrating look tucked up a her sleeve, ready to pull out at any time in the hope of making things go her own way. She may use it to get Armie to do the dishes sometimes, or to get out of parking tickets, but Andrew‘s not going to let her use it on him, because whilst his voice is okay, he‘s not willing to showcase it to the people that fill this bar. “My singing voice is best reserved for the confines of the shower curtain.”
“Oh come on, Man!” Armie leans over Jesse and shoves Andrew’s shoulder. Andrew very nearly falls out of his seat. “Even Jesse’s singing tonight!”
“Are you really?” Andrew says, twisting his waist to take a full look at him.
“Yeah.”
“What are you gonna sing?”
“You heard of Ween?”
Andrew leans even closer, if that‘s possible, cupping a hand to his ear. “Weezer?”
“No!” Jesse yells. With it being so difficult to hear what he’s saying, Andrew notices that his brain has taken to focussing much more on the spectacular way in which Jesse’s mouth moves as he forms the ’O’ sound, his lips soft and wet and pink and plump, everything that a person could want from a pair of lips, the kind of lips that scream and beg for kisses and know that they‘ll probably get that request met. Andrew’s dying to meet that request. “I said Ween! Have you heard of them?”
Andrew shakes his head no, maybe Jesse is even more of hipster than he is. “No, I haven’t.”
“Well, I’m singing a Ween song. They‘re a great band!”
“Cool, I’m looking forward to it.” Andrew’s nodding now. He doesn’t actually know if it’s cool, he has no idea what this band sounds like, but Jesse likes them, so they’re probably pretty cool. He laughs a little. “No Green Day?”
“Not tonight,” Jesse grins, slipping his shaking hand down Andrew’s arm to hold his. It fits perfectly. “Though, maybe next time.”
Andrew's heart flutters, there's going to be a next time?
“Next up, we have Jesse, singing What Deaner Was Talking About!” calls a woman up on stage, brandishing a clip board. She leans into the microphone, looking around the bar. “Jesse? Where are you?”
“That’s me, then,” Jesse gets to his feet, squeezes his way past Andrew who’s having a severely difficult time keeping his eyes off of him, in his jeans that appear to be ten years old but still hug him in all the right places. Crap, and now Andrew’s objectifying him a little, he’s trying his best to stop and look away like a good English gentleman, but he can’t because Jesse’s ass in those jeans! Jesus Christ, blood is rushing to places that it really shouldn't be in present company.
Jesse is now up on stage, and thankfully for Andrew’s sanity, facing forward. He grabs the mike stand, and once every one cheers in encouragement, hides his shy smile behind the microphone. “This is the first time I’ve done this, so please don’t laugh, okay?”
“Hey, look! It’s Napoleon Dynamite!”
It’s yelled by some obnoxious guy at the back and without thinking about it, Andrew’s about ready to get up and yell something cutting right back, but Jesse’s got it.
“Please Abraham, we’ve been over this,” Jesse rolls his eyes, clearly this has happened before. “I am not that man.”
The bar rings with laughter that includes Jesse's broken chuckle, and the music starts up. Jesse begins to sing, and Andrew is totally and completely enamored by him. Eyes closed, hands wrapped tight around the mike stand, singing softly. Everything else in the room just falls away, and it‘s just Jesse. For two whole minutes, nothing else matters. This guy is going to end up wrecking him.
Once the song is over, Jesse bounds off stage, still saying 'thank you' even when he’s out of the microphone’s range. Elizabeth gets up to hug him, Armie does the same, claps him on the back.
“Come on, Andrew,” Armie cries, knocking Andrew out of his reverie, “go sing something!”
“You know you want to,” Jesse says, tugging on Andrew’s arm. Andrew has to physically look away from him because Jesse has the sort of face that, no matter how hard you try, you just cannot say no to, with his pouty lips and soft, watery eyes.
Andrew shakes his head, “I’m sorry, but you’d have to get me very drunk first.”
Elizabeth jumps to her feet, raises a hand high into the air and yells. “Barkeep! Bring this young man some shots!”
***
Twelve shots later, Andrew gets up, and without any added persuasion, performs, what he believes to be -though, all of the sober people in this place would probably disagree- a pretty fantastic rendition of I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) by The Proclaimers as Jesse claps along from the booth.
Both hands on the mike stand, he swings in a half circle to face Jesse dead on, and points at him, smiling manically. “But I would walk five hundred miles, and I would walk five hundred more…”
Despite that fact that Andrew can’t hear him, he sees that Jesse’s laughing and singing along too.
“…to be the man, who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door!”
“Da-Da-Da Da!” Andrew yells, ripping the mike from the stand to hold out towards the cheering crowd that have all of sudden taken a great shine to him. Every single one of them are on their feet, dancing around to the booming eighties classic.
“Da-Da-Da-Da!” They call back, pumping their fists.
Andrew, bringing the mike back up to his face: “Da-Da-Da-Da!”
Then the crowd: “Da-Da-Da-Da!”
He almost falls off stage twice as he finishes the song, but with the bright lights on his face, his shirt stuck to his back with sweat, and Jesse staring up at him like he’s the single most hilarious, yet amazing this on this planet, Andrew has never felt more alive.
***
Andrew‘s sobered up somewhat by the time it reaches midnight, but he’s still a little bit drunk, and he has now taken to firing relentless, wedding-themed questions at Elizabeth and Armie whilst the four of them wait outside for their cab. “So, have you guys set a date yet?”
“Not yet, but it’ll probably be at some point early next year.”
“Oh wow, how exciting!” He claps, completely taken over as Jesse watches on with a vague smile on his face that seems to say ‘You‘re scaring the hell out of me the most entirely fascinating way'. This is probably the face he uses when watching a documentary about honey-badgers or something.
Andrew continues on. “Are you going for a more traditional, in a church, kind of thing? Or are you gonna do something different? Indoors or outdoors? What style of food? A DJ or a live band? Wait!” Andrew holds his hands out, a mushy, loved-up-even-without-a-boyfriend smile on his face. “Are you gonna write your own vows?”
Armie looks to Elizabeth. “I, uh….”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, it’s just, I love the idea of weddings. Everything about them.”
Elizabeth leans forward, touches his Andrew’s arm. “Me too!”
“They’re just such beautiful things, one day dedicated solely to you and your soul mate, baring, well, your soul to one another, telling each other how much you love there is between you and that you’ll be together forever. It’s such a beautiful, precious thing that you guys have.” Andrew ensures that he has both of them in his eye line before continuing on, gesticulating all over the place without thinking, as if he has alien hand syndrome. “I mean, I don’t even know you that well, but I’m so happy and excited for you!”
Armie smiles, puts his arm around his fiancée’s shoulder, addressing Andrew. “So, I’m guessing that you’ll be wanting to get married at some point, then?”
Andrew nods vigorously, Jesse laughs a little, though fondly. “Yeah definitely, but none of this civil partnership stuff. Now that it’s legal, I want a proper marriage once the time is right, once I find the right person.”
Almost out of no-where, a yellow cab comes screeching to a halt at the kerb, making Andrew jump. The driver sticks his head out of the window. “Taxi for an Armie Hammer?”
“That’s me. Come on, Liz,” Armie says, taking Elizabeth’s hand. “See you guys later, nice meeting you Andrew.”
“Yeah, you too,” Andrew replies, watching with great longing as Armie helps Elizabeth into the car. “I’ll be expecting an invite to the wedding!”
“Don’t worry, you’ll get one! Bye guys!” She calls out, waving through the open window once her door is closed. She looks at Jesse pointedly, flinging her hand into the air as she says: “You! Hurry up and tell him that you like him because you’re nervous, giddy crush can be seen from space, like, you wouldn‘t even need the Hubble telescope to find-”
“Okay, bye Elizabeth!” Jesse rushes forward, places gentle hand onto her head and pushes her back into the taxi.
Andrew laughs, he can hear Armie and Elizabeth laugh as the taxi pulls away, and as Jesse spins around, Andrew hears him laugh too, although nervously. His face has flushed a gentle pink.
Jesse cocks his head in the general direction of the now moving taxi, a little out of breath. “Far too many martinis, you know how it is.”
Andrew nods. “So, uh… would it be totally awkward and inappropriate for me to tell you that I kind of really like you, too? Like, you wouldn‘t need the Hubble Telescope to spot my crush from space either.”
How could Andrew not have a crush on him?
Attractive people tend to fit into one of three categories.
Some are cute -which is what Andrew had thought of Jesse when they first met- the sort of people that you want to cuddle up with under a blanket and watch Disney movies with. These are the people with which you share Eskimo kisses and take home to your mother. Some are sexy -i.e. Jesse in those jeans- these are the sort of people that, when you look at them, all you can think about is tearing their clothes off with your teeth and licking them all over. These are the people that stimulate your primal urges, and fill your head with a haze of lust, until you can feel your blood pounding hot in every inch of your body. Some are just… beautiful. These are the sort of people that you look at with pure, unadulterated awe. These are the people that you truly cannot believe exist.
Jesse fits into all three categories. Cute, sexy, beautiful. He is fucking exquisite, with a great personality to boot.
“No, it… it would not be awkward for you to tell me that,” Jesse swallows visibly, smiling a little. “It would actually be quite lovely to hear that.” He takes a few steps forward, and takes hold of the zipper on Andrew's coat. “You know, I like having you come visit me at work, and I like helping you with your lines, and I like talking to you, and I really like spending time with you.”
Andrew reaches up towards his chest, takes hold of Jesse‘s small, cold hand. He could get used to this. “I like it, too.”
Without saying another word, Jesse smiles up at Andrew in a way that lets him know that something is definitely beginning here. Andrew can feel it deep in the pit of his stomach, in his head, and in his heart; there is not one single part of him that isn’t desperately looking forward to each and every day that includes Jesse.
Andrew has to walk home tonight, it‘s only a few blocks, but it‘s getting late. So, despite his desperate want/need to stay with Jesse, he smiles wistfully and says, “I’m gonna, I’m gonna head back home, okay.”
“Alright.” Jesse takes his hand away from Andrew’s chest and looks up at him with those big blue eyes that Andrew knows, right now, will probably end up being the death of him. “Are you coming over on Monday?”
“Do you even have to ask?”
(34)
Andrew’s copy of A View From The Bridge is wrecked, but in the best way possible. The pages are dog-eared, the spine is cracked, it’s filled with notes -some he has written himself, some written in Jesse’s all-capital-letters-like-a-real-man handwriting. Andrew rolls it up and stuffs it into his back pocket on Monday morning, riddled with a shaky, nervous brand of glee, smiling as he walks up the street, headed for the bookstore, and ultimately, Jesse. Jesse had wanted him to come over today, and he’s doing it.
Andrew spots him, in those ridiculously perfect jeans and a thin-looking t-shirt, stood right outside of the doors. He's hugging his arms to his chest, jumping and down a little to keep warm on this icy February morning, Andrew can see his breath clouding up in the air from here. Why the hell isn't he wearing a jacket? Andrew is, but he's still cold, so Jesse must feel as though he's about to suffer through an abrupt onslaught of hypothermia.
Andrew breaks out into a jog, reaches Jesse in less than ten seconds, and, without thinking, desperately throws his arms around his shaking body in the hope of warming him. “Hey, what are you doing outside? It’s freezi-”
Without a single word of warning, Jesse grabs the front of Andrew's jacket, stands right up on his tip-toes, and kisses him softly, right there in the middle of the street.
Their first kiss.
For a few moments, Andrew's eyes remain open with shock before fluttering closed. He grips onto Jesse's tiny hips and kisses him right back, he tastes like... mystery solved! He's a tea-drinker.
Andrew smiles against his beautiful, soft, warmth mouth -probably the only warm part of him- as Jesse pulls away with a comical, though unplanned, pop of the lips. Andrew feels as though every worry and doubt has fallen away from him. The sound people milling around them, the smell of gas as a car fails to start up, the cold. It's gone, doesn't matter.
He can see the tiny flecks of darker blue in Jesse's eyes from here.
"Hi," Jesse whispers.
(282)
Jesse doesn’t wear bright clothing all that often, but on the rare occasions that he does, it can prove very useful. Andrew spots Jesse almost instantly in that ridiculous aquamarine t-shirt of his, down at the other end of the store, shrouded in shadows courtesy of the high shelving unit that he’s stacking books into.
Andrew moves into a playful crouch, and advances, hoping to God that Jesse won’t turn around and catch him. Only a few metres away… a few centimetres…. millimetres…
And he pounces.
He grabs Jesse from behind, locks his arms around his waist and whispers into his ear with all the adoration that he could possibly muster up. “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Jesse is the sun.”
Jesse grabs Andrew’s hands, pulls them roughly apart and steps away. Without so much as looking at Andrew, he mumbles, “you really shouldn’t hassle me whilst I‘m working.”
Andrew stares after him as he walks away, a little confused, and definitely hurt.
(41)
“You know, we’ve practised your lines together so many times, but I’ve never really seen you act.”
Jesse’s announcement comes directly out of the blue as Andrew walks him home, the pair of them had met up once Jesse was done with work at eight. They’re walking side by side, hands intertwined, down an empty street -save for a few cars and a homeless guy- in the depths of Queens. It's dimly lit by a few failing street-lights, and smells smoky in a way that a place like this definitely should.
Andrew smiles a little, mainly to himself. “I’m not very good, that’s why I never get the part when I go for proper auditions, you know, for commercials and tv shows and stuff.”
“I’m sure you’re a wonderful actor." Abruptly, Jesse stops walking, turns to face Andrew and stares him down. “Come on, act for me now.”
Andrew looks around, confused. “What, right here? In the street?”
“Sure, why not?” Jesse nods, lets go of Andrew’s hand and steps just into the road to give him full use of the sidewalk. “Act for me, young thespian.”
“Really?” Andrew cocks an eyebrow.
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Andrew checks about himself one final time, just to make sure that no one other than Jesse and the homeless guy are watching. Then, he starts jumping up and down on the spot, shaking his limbs around, making absurd noises with his lips as if he’s trying to motorboat the invisible woman.
Jesse leans back, looking mildly terrified. “This is you acting?”
“Just warming myself up,” Andrew says, still jumping up and down.
Then he stops, plasters a huge smile on his face and puts on his best Italian accent. A proper Italian accent, not a Mario and Luigi ‘a-where is my spaghetti?!’ kind of thing. “This will be the first house I ever walked into in America!”
“No, no," Jesse waves his hands out in front of himself, smiling fondly. “Don’t do Rodolpho, I’ve seen you do him plenty of times and I know you‘re great at it. Do something else. You know any Shakespeare?”
“Uh, the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet, that’s the extent of my Shakespearean knowledge,” Andrew says, more than a little embarrassed, he can feel himself blushing even in this cold weather.
“That is terrible,” Jesse says, but he grins even harder. “How come you only know that one scene, haven‘t you read the whole play?”
“Don‘t judge me, but… I haven‘t even read it.” Andrew tries his best not to laugh at Jesse’s shocked expression, and continues on, nodding. “I just know it because it‘s my favourite scene in the 1996 film adaptation.”
“The one with Leonardo DiCaprio?” Jesse asks.
“Yeah.”
“Well, I can‘t say I that blame you for liking that version.” Jesse says, cocking his head to the side. “It’ll have to do, though. You can be Romeo. Go.”
“The balcony scene?”
“Yep.”
“Fine, but for time’s sake, because the night is getting on, I’m gonna condense it a little bit, okay? I‘ll cut some lines out here and there.“
“Okay.”
Andrew smiles, turns his back, and continues walking down the street, leaving Jesse to catch up. He stops at a building with a boarded up window, runs his hands over the fibreboard, voice airy and barely audible. “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and Juliet is the sun! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief.”
Walking away from the window, dragging his feet like a love-stricken teen, he continues along the sidewalk, leaving Jesse behind again. “That thou her maid art far more fair than she. Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green, and none but fools do wear it!” Andrew throws his arms out to the sides, yells, spins on the spot. His next line echoes down the quiet street. “Cast it off!“
He stops spinning and his eyes land on Jesse, who’s grinning like an idiot at Andrew’s performance.
“You are really good,” he says breathlessly.
Except, Andrew hasn’t left character yet. He jumps forward, takes Jesse’s face gently into his hands, and stares into his eyes as if he’s the most beautiful thing in this world. “She speaks! O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art as glorious to this night, being o'er my head as is a winged messenger of heaven.”
Jesse lets out one, shaky sigh, and Andrew knows that he‘s got him. Hook, line and sinker.
Jesse opens that gorgeous mouth to speak, gripping the front of Andrew‘s jacket. “O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet.”
“Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?” Hands still clasping Jesse’s face, Andrew looks away, as if speaking to someone that should be stood right beside him.
Except, Jesse doesn’t reply with the next line, doesn’t reply with any line from the play, doesn’t reply at all. Instead, Andrew feels as though his feet are almost pulled out from underneath him as Jesse takes tight hold of his hand and runs, runs faster than Andrew would ever expect him to run, all the way down the street and past the cheering hobo, pulling Andrew along behind him. They don’t stop, not properly anyway, Jesse reaches the end of the street, pauses on the corner, and turns right, laughing all the way.
Andrew’s giggling too, and not for one moment does he think to ask where they’re going, because this is the most fun he’s had in an age, his heart pumping rapidly in his chest, adrenalin, a warm, comforting hand in his. This is the best ever.
They run on, covering three more blocks, earning more than a dozen strange looks from passers-by when suddenly, Jesse comes to a halt outside of an apartment building, speaking to Andrew using the last bit of air in his otherwise puffed out lungs. “In here, in here!”
He reaches up, grabs Andrew’s face and kisses him right there, using his back to push the door open, leading him inside.
Eyes closed, hands fisted in Jesse’s ridiculously soft hair, Andrew is being lead up a flight of stairs to what he assumes is going to be Jesse’s apartment. Every inch of his skin feels hot, flushed and all of a sudden, very sweaty and Jesse stops for a moment to shove him up against a wall, kissing him harder.
And, despite the pure, unadulterated heat between them, Andrew can’t help but think -as he grabs hold of Jesse’s tiny waist and finds himself being lead further down the hall- that tonight is not about sex or hooking up or having a one night stand that they’re both going to regret in the morning. They’ll probably end up making out for an hour or two, which will be interspersed with some groping that could very well lead to some really nice sex. But, even if it doesn’t, that’s okay too, because Andrew just wants Jesse, in any way possible, and he doesn’t mind waiting. He’s got this feeling, right down in the very pit of his stomach, that this one, right here, is worth the wait.
They break apart for a few moments as Jesse fumbles with his keys, gets the door open, and then they‘re back to kissing, and this is probably the second best kind of kissing after the slow, loving kind of kissing, but it‘s still pretty fucking amazing when Andrew compares it to all the other people that he‘s kissed. He and Jesse can kiss like that later, but for now, it‘s all heated and wet and just a teensy bit rushed.
“You are sort of- No, really beautiful and mesmerising,” Jesse says breathlessly once they’re fully inside with the door shut tightly behind them.
“So are you,” Andrew replies between kisses to Jesse‘s face. He wraps his long arms tight around his waist, heading back to his mouth, that beautiful, perfect, kiss-bruised mouth. “You’re bloody amazing.”
“Wait a second.” Jesse places his hands onto Andrew‘s shoulders, holding him back a little so that they can talk. Andrew can‘t see all that much, since Jesse hadn‘t switched any lights on when they entered, but he can see Jesse‘s nervous face since he’s so close by. Andrew can feel Jesse‘s chest rising and falling rapidly against his own, feels it rumble as he speaks. “I really, really like you, but you should know, I’m not ready for anything serious just yet. I‘ve never been in a proper relationship before, so I‘m new to all this.”
“Yeah,” Andrew says, voice soft and encouraging despite his slight feeling of deflation. He loosens his tight grip on Jesse’s waist, but continues to hold him close in the way that he's been dying to for over a month now. “I understand.”
“I…“ Jesse’s taken to whispering now, as though he’s afraid that some non-existent person might hear, or that he might offend Andrew in some way “…I want to take things slow, so just kissing for now. I need some time to get used to this.”
“That‘s okay,” Andrew says, leaning down to place one gentle kiss on Jesse‘s forehead. “That’s fine by me.”
Jesse sighs like a person with a body that‘s just popped up into thousands of tingly, pleasure induced goosebumps. “I’d definitely like to kiss you some more now.”
“Then shut up and kiss me.”
Andrew watches as the delicate corners of Jesse‘s eyes crinkle into a smile. He can see that even in the dark. “Okay.”
And now they’re kissing in the best way, in the slow, languid sort of way, with tentative tongues and slowly moving hands. Jesse’s guiding Andrew backwards, they’re in the living room, so maybe towards a couch, or maybe this is just en route to his bedroom, Andrew doesn’t know.
Then Andrew almost steps on something warm and furry, a thing that hisses menacingly and makes him squeal like a little girl, gripping onto Jesse for dear life.“Fuck! What was-”
“You almost stood on my cat,” Jesse’s giggling sweetly. “Don’t worry, I think he’s okay.”
“Your cat,” Andrew repeats, smiling fondly as he gently guides Jesse down onto his couch.
(42)
The next morning, Andrew wakes up with only two thoughts on his mind.
The first? 'Jesus, Jesse's bed is soft!'
No, they didn't sleep together. Well, they did, but in the most innocent sense of the word 'sleep'. They remained fully clothed at all times, and moved to the bed only when they'd got tired of making out on the couch, but even then there was a lot of kissing... and cuddling.
(Jesse's the little spoon, in case you were wondering.)
The second thought to flick through his mind? 'Where is Jesse?'
Andrew opens his eyes, rolls over, and finds nothing but a scrap of paper on the pillow on which Jesse's pretty little head was resting last night. Andrew picks it up, reads it through his still blurry eyes.
"Had to go to work, didn't want to wake you. Make yourself at home, leave whenever you want (you don't have to if you don't want to!) I'll see you later x."
Grinning, like the cat that got the cream, Andrew sits up and reaches down towards to floor to grab his jacket. He's keeping this note, it's going into his wallet right now.
Speaking of cats...
"Meow."
Andrew's head spins to look at the left hand corner of the room, at a gorgeous -thought haughty looking- white Persian with ice blue eyes, sat in a padded wicker basket. The cat eyes him wearily.
"I guess it was you that I almost squished last night," Andrew says apologetically, reaching his arms high above his head to stretch them out. "Sorry about that."
The cat gets up and leaves the room promptly.
Andrew drops his arms back down, slouches, and slumps against the headboard. "Great, now I've offended the cat."
Though, nothing could bring him down today, not one thing.
He's got Jesse, or so he assumes. They definitely began some sort of relationship last night. Is this just a casual thing? Are they dating? Are they actually boyfriends yet? Andrew doesn't really know, but he doesn't mind, questions can be asked later. Why ruin it now?
But his entire body tingles with knowing that something is definitely happening here. He flails his arms around, his legs too, underneath the covers, squeals like a girl, then comes to an abrupt stop, having released all of his excited, pent up energy. A little breathless, he smiles to himself, and takes a proper look around Jesse's bedroom, a room that he hadn't really had a chance to look at last night what with it being so dark.
It's painted a dark turquoise, and all of the furniture is made of wood, the bed-frame, the nightstand over on Jesse's side of the bed, the bookcase, the desk. The floor is wooden too, covered in discarded clothes from the days past, and multi-coloured rag-rugs that his mother probably made for him.
To the wall on Andrew's left, there's a window, next to that, a huge -but very old- Green Day poster from around the Dookie era, around the time when they played Woodstock in 1994, Tré's hair was still green. Andrew knows that Jesse was about ten or eleven years old at that point. He's loved them for that long? Andrew didn't discover them until he was fifteen.
The bookcase is pushed up against the wall nearest to Andrew, on his right, filled with books of course, in addition to CD's, 12 inch vinyls, hand-made clay bowls, framed photographs of family and friends -Jesse and his sisters look so alike. On top of it, there are scarves, hats, more books balanced in precarious piles. Andrew swings his legs out of the bed, stands up to have a look.
"Wow," he sighs in amazement.
All of Jesse's Green Day albums are arranged in chronological order, he has a lot of blink-182 too, Ween, and dozens of albums by New York-based bands. The Strokes, Vampire Weekend, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Brand New. Andrew is truly taken-aback by Jesse's collection, he has hundreds of CD's, just as many LP's -Andrew's own collection seems meager and entirely pointless in comparison. There's a dusty CD player, and a record player that seems to be used on a much more regular basis on the desk beside the book case.
Moving onto his books and, Andrew grins as he gently runs his fingertips along all of their cracked, weathered spines. Jesse's read The Hunger Games trilogy, The Great Gatsby, and every other American classic you could name. He has all of John Green's books, too. At first, Andrew is awed by it, but then again, he should be expecting it. Jesse is not only vastly intelligent, but he works in a bookstore, and he writes in his spare time, he must be well-read.
The only thing that Jesse seems to be missing? DVD's. There isn't one to be seen.
It's then that Andrew comes to the conclusion that you can learn quite a bit about a person from looking around their bedroom alone. Sure, you can learn about their interests, their hobbies, but you can also discover what kind of person they are. He learns a lot about Jesse from this place.
Jesse is a hoarder, it's a little cluttered in here. Jesse is clearly one of those people that keeps hold of every concert ticket, every flyer that forced into his hands as he waits outside of music venues for gigs to start. Andrew can picture him there, ticket clutched tight in his fist with anticipation, a little cold, silently praying that the support bands will get themselves done and out of the way in good time. Andrew likes that image.
On the back wall, above the bed, this is where Jesse has chosen to stick these things. There a few ticket-stubs from the local movie theater, but it seems that Jesse likes to see bands mostly. There's an autographed eight-by-ten of Nick Swardson, a Crimes & Misdemeanors poster, post-its written to him by friends, drawings that he may very well have done himself, collages made up of pictures torn from magazines, old birthday and Hanukkah cards, pictures of him with his sisters. All of these things are stuck on the wall in an haphazard, yet organised way. Spanning out to the very edges, to the point where it's difficult to see the paint underneath.
Jesse is clearly a very sentimental person, every experience means a great deal to him, he holds on to every memory.
Andrew likes that. Jesse never forgets a single person.
Andrew feels his chest tighten with an odd tingle of happy anxiety, he cannot wait for the day when there's a picture of him up on this wall, notes from him, cards from him, tickets from gigs that he and Jesse have been to together. Gigs where Andrew will drag Jesse through the crowd until they get as close to the front as they can possibly get. Andrew will pick Jesse up, stick him on his shoulders so that he can get a better view of the band, and they'll leave the place hand-in-hand, sweat-soaked, grinning like maniacs as a result of the night's experiences. He smiles hopefully at the thought of it.
Then he remembers how Jesse had said that he's never been in a proper relationship before, so maybe Andrew is the first person to see this place that wasn't just a friend. Jesse trusts him with being alone in here, wants him here, doesn't want him to leave. Andrew balls his hands into fists and brings them up to his face with the sheer excitement of it all.
Andrew wants to sit in this room with Jesse, and ask him about every single thing in here. When did he get each thing, who gave it to him, what does it mean to him, everything.
Jesse clearly has a great life, and Andrew wants to be a part of if, no matter how big or how small that part may be. Andrew wants to know everything about him, wants to know him off by heart.
***
Since Jesse doesn't own a television, Andrew spends the day eating him out of house and home, and dancing around the apartment to blink-182 albums with the -as far as he's concerned, anyway- nameless cat that scratches his arm viciously and runs to hide under Jesse's bed after half an hour of Andrew-accompanied spinning around.
Jesse returns home to his apartment at six, laughs hysterically at Andrew's bouffant bed-hair, debates, with Andrew, the merits of not owning a TV, and eventually agrees to go over to his place to watch a movie and order a pizza since Andrew doesn't have work this evening and Jesse doesn't have it tomorrow morning. Perfect.
They're about half way through The Shawshank Redemption, and Andrew is trying his best not to cry at Brooks' death, when there's a knock at his apartment door. He gently lifts Jesse's head out of his lap, vacates his spot on the couch, and goes to answer it.
It's Joe, looking indignant.
"And where were you last night?"
Andrew hears shuffling from behind, Jesse must have looked up. He steps out into the hall and closes the door almost all the way. "I stayed at Jesse's place," he says quietly.
"Jesse's place? Is this the same Jesse that you've been stalking for the past month?"
"I am not stalking him."
"Whatever." Joe places his hands into his pockets, stares Andrew down. "When do we get to meet him?"
Andrew frowns. "We?"
"Justin, Emma, and myself. It'd better be soon."
"I don't know," Andrew checks over his shoulder to make sure that the door hasn't opened, he doesn't think that Jesse would appreciate Andrew talking about him to someone he's never met. "Why do you need to meet him 'soon'?"
Joe widens his eyes, speaking as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "We need to see if he's good enough for you."
"I think the main issue is whether or not I'm good enough for him." Andrew rolls his eyes. "Besides, if-slash-when you meet him, I refuse to allow you to judge him. I think he's great, so that's all that matters."
"Okay, but is he hot?"
"Can you keep your voice down?" Andrew whisper-yells with mild panic, taking a few steps closer to his neighbour. "What do you care? You're straight, anyway."
"Just wondering, you know," Joe shrugs.
"Well, he is, I've told you that. He's very hot, he's beautiful."
"Have you kissed yet?"
Andrew rolls his eyes once more, will the guy just hurry up and go already? "Yes."
"Have you had se-"
"Hi." It's Jesse. Andrew spins around to find him standing in the doorway, a vague smile on his face, looking at Joe.
Joe, on the other hand, looks as though he's been caught doing something terrible, eyes wide. "Oh, um, hi..."
"Jesse, this is Joe, my neighbour and occasional best friend, Joe this is Jesse," Andrew informs, trying his hardest not to laugh at Joe's pained, extremely embarrassed, expression. He covers his mouth.
"Nice to meet you," Jesse says brightly.
"Yeah, you too," Joe replies, looking down at his feet. Clearly, he has ran out of things to say, and things takes a turn for the awkward. He cocks his head to the side, opening and closing his mouth a few times before finally speaking. "I'm a, I'm a vet..."
"Yeah? That's wonderful," Jesse nods, gesturing out towards him. "I like your scrubs, the pale green goes nicely with your hair, so..."
Andrew lifts his shoulders, claps once. This conversation is painful to watch. "Anyway, we're gonna go inside now, order some food. See you later."
"Yeah, I'm gonna go, uh..." Joe begins to walk backwards towards his own front door, pointing over his shoulder "...do some work, and stuff."
Once they're back inside the apartment, Andrew shuts the door and leans up against it whilst Jesse goes to sit back down on the couch. "Sorry about him," Andrew says. "If you heard anything that he said then I'm really sorry."
Jesse smiles, waves it off. "It's alright. Didn't hear a thing."
"So yeah," Andrew moves forward, takes his cell phone out of his pocket, "wanna order some pizza?"
"Yeah, sure," Jesse nods. "Just, uh, don't order anything too spicy on it."
"You don't like spicy food?"
"No, the only thing that's allowed to be, uh, hot round here is me," Jesse smirks playfully, sitting back in the couch cushions. "I'm sure you agree, in fact, I know you do."
Great, he heard everything. Andrew couldn't be more embarrassed. "Oh God."
(303)
Jesse usually answers his door before Andrew’s fourth or fifth knock, but today, he’s either out, or not answering at all. Andrew highly suspects the latter as he gives up on what is probably the hundredth knock, and slumps back down the hall to leave. It’s become all to clear that Jesse doesn’t want him any more. The initial break up felt like a stab in the heart, but every day that follows feels like a twist of the knife.
The tears are on their way again.
~
Part Three