thisavrou_log | we whisper in each others' ears to make diamonds out of dirt.

Entry tags:

we whisper in each others' ears to make diamonds out of dirt.

Who: Ronan Lynch & Jesse Pinkman
When: Shortly after this
Where: A hallway in the Moira
What: Jesse runs into Ronan after a fight.
Warnings: Blood and references to violence.

[Smudged with dirt and soot. Shirt torn and slightly charred. Drying blood smeared across his mouth. Fresh bruise erupting on his cheek. Frankly, Ronan looks like a mess. Not the life-threatening kind of mess, but very much like a boy who's just emerged from a brutal fight with someone of comparable strength, and it's not entirely clear from the looks of him whether he won or lost that fight.

In the end, it doesn't matter. He's sore and concussive and there's a burn on his hip where Kavinsky's literally-flaming fingers wrenched at his jeans. There's no emerging from that fight with any sense of victory. Ronan wants to find the nearest empty room and isolate himself there, away from all questions and concerns.

He thinks he might throw up. He hopes that doesn't happen in this hall. He wishes everything would stop spinning.

And now he's falling.]

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[ With the joint snatched out of his fingers, Jesse doesn't know what to do with his fidgeting hands except stuff them into his hoodie pockets. ]

You also got set on fire, by the looks of it.

[ Maybe that's a slight exaggeration, given Ronan's shirt is singed rather than actually charred, but still. Looks like Ronan had a really close call all the same. ]

[Ronan immediately tugs his shirt lower, as far down his hip as it'll go.]

Yeah. He burned about a quarter of the garden.

...What? How?!

[ His eyes dart down to where Ronan is tugging the shirt lower, and he catches a glimpse of what looks like scalded, red skin. A frown forms on his brow as he peers down at it. ]

Yo... How bad did he burn you?

[Christ. Jesse is worse than Gansey with this shit.]

Barely. He was transformed. Like everyone lately. He could control fire with his hands.

[ 'Barely'. Maybe that's so, but maybe Ronan is also utterly downplaying it. Saying nothing, Jesse watches Ronan for a moment, then he's suddenly heading for the door. He opens it, slips out, and he returns a couple of minutes later with a bucket in tow.

He hooks his foot in the door to shut it behind him, water sloshing in the bucket as he carts it up to the side of the bed. He stoops down and the sound of splashing water fills the room as he plucks up a washcloth that he wrings out. ]

[Ronan's taking another hit from the joint when Jesse walks back in. His eyes drop to the bucket, then travel to the cloth in Jesse's hand, and he lets out a derisive little laugh that turns into a cough around the pot smoke he's exhaling.]

You - You're not gonna give me a sponge bath, are you?

[ Jesse lifts his head to fix Ronan with a flat look, mid-wring of the washcloth. ]

Don't get your hopes up.

Good. I don't feel like breaking two jaws today.

[At least, he hopes he broke Kavinsky's jaw. But he probably didn't.]

[ Ignoring that comment, Jesse stands tall, washcloth in hand. ]

Lift your shirt up.

[ That's commanded with a remarkable amount of authority. Like he's fully anticipating Ronan to give him hell and Jesse is not going to let it faze him. ]

[If the marijuana hadn't made him so pliant, Ronan might put up more of a fight or insist on doing this himself. But he's experiencing a pleasant buzz right now and therefore feeling exceptionally lazy despite the mild threat he just issued. Nonchalantly, he tugs his shirt up to reveal his abs and the splotch of red skin across his hip, where Kavinsky's burning fingers hooked around his jeans. It's not terribly severe. Ronan fought him off quickly.]

[ Jesse had been expecting a fight but when it seems Ronan isn't going to fight him, Jesse takes a single look at the red splotch of skin before he's laying the wet cloth over it; a cold compress. ]

That the only place he got you?

Yes, Mom.

[Ronan brings the joint to his lips and sucks on it.]

[ He gives Ronan a look, like 'whatever, asshole'. But then he's stooping back down and he's wringing out another washcloth. When he stands tall, he tosses that washcloth onto Ronan's chest. ]

In case you wanna clean yourself up.

[Ronan doesn't particularly care at the moment, but since the cloth's already there, he picks it up and scrubs the blood and soot off his face in a careless, half-assed way. He's not sure what to do with it once it's blood-soaked, so he drops it onto his stomach.]

[ Jesse is pulling the chair at the desk closer and then dropping down onto it while Ronan wipes his face. The smell of pot is probably seeping all the way down the corridor. Jesse doesn't particularly care. He pushes his hand into his pocket to pull out his pack of smokes. Looking down at it while plucking a cigarette out: ]

So, this guy's from your world, huh?

Yeah. We went to school together before he killed himself.

[Which is... such an inadequate way to describe their relationship, which had very little to do with attending classes and everything to do with intense late-night street racing and a wild drug-fueled dream bender in a field full of Mitsubishis, during which Ronan lost a week of his life and might have lost his life altogether.

The memory alone stirs something in him, which he's quick to quell with another hit of the joint.]

[ Jesus... Looking back up at Ronan, Jesse hesitates with putting the cigarette between his lips. ]

Noah know him, too?

Mm...

[Ronan squints thoughtfully at the air.]

Noah knows him through me. Noah's seen him. But that's a different thing, isn't it? From knowing someone yourself.

[ It's a good thing, at least, that the pot seems to be working. It was a 'yes' or 'no' question Jesse had asked; Ronan had given him almost a stoner answer. Pursing the cigarette between his lips, he fishes out his lighter and quickly lights the tip with a long drag. ]

Yeah. There's a pretty big difference.

[ He exhales the rest of the smoke, then adds: ]

Sounds like this guy's someone Noah oughta be kept away from, anyway.

[ Even if Noah is a ghost. Even if nothing can physically hurt Noah. ]

[Ronan says nothing for a moment, eyeing Jesse with that same pensive expression. Yes, he's stoned indeed. But he's also fascinated with Jesse's concern, because this is the first time someone who isn't being haunted by Noah has expressed any worry over Noah. It warms the cockles of Ronan's black heart.]

Noah does a good job of keeping himself away from K. I'm not sure K can even see him.

[ Jesse thinks about that for a moment while he watches Ronan. He takes a puff of his cigarette. ]

So... this guy ain't, like... Like a ghost, then? Like Noah?

[ Even though he's dead? ]

Definitely not a ghost.

[Which is a good thing for several reasons, but mostly because Ronan can't imagine being relentlessly haunted by Kavinsky. A true horror story.]

[ Huh. Weird. Jesse only thinks that, however, because he'd thought, going by Noah, that ghosts must be a common thing in Ronan's world.

After he takes another drag of his cigarette, he reaches for an empty Cactus Cooler can and taps ash into it. He glances back up to Ronan. ]

...This guy seriously kidnapped your little brother? Just 'cause you turned him down?

Oh, you know. He could have anything he wanted in the world, but he couldn't have me.

[Ronan sighs as he says that, mockingly wistful, before rolling his eyes.]

I guess that drove him a little crazy.

'A little'? Faggot sounds like a psycho. Man, I woulda curb stomped his ass if that were my little brother.

[ God, just talking Ronan's little brother makes Jesse think about Jake. Jesse looks down, toying the cigarette between his fingers. Out of nowhere, he wonders if Jake is okay. If he's happy. If their asswipe parents are making Jake's life hell.

Suddenly, Jesse misses the shit out of his little brother, and he tries to swallow it down as he quickly sucks another drag of his cigarette. ]

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