[ Jesse is absolutely losing it. Opening his mouth and letting the truth come spilling out like toxic venom is both a relief that's almost suffocating and making the memory of what he did come blazing to life, vivid and terrible, in his mind. He expects Andyr will be disgusted by him because why wouldn't he be? Who wouldn't be disgusted by a guy killing another innocent guy for no reason other than to save his own skin? To save Mr. White's skin?
If Jesse had been the one to listen to someone talking like he is now, he would be repulsed. Call them a sick fuck. Take some kind of moral high ground, despite his own morals being dug nearly six feet under dirt and filth.
Maybe if Andyr had confessed to him at some other time, in some other way, that he, too, is a cold-blooded, merciless killer, Jesse would have backed right off and judged the shit out of him, even in spite of everything Andyr has done for him. Or maybe he would have found himself unable to judge him like that, if only because he'd witnessed first-hand a glimpse into the horrific torture Andyr had been put through in his past.
Silence stretches between Andyr asking if Jesse still wants him here and Jesse lying there staring at him, tears streaming down his face. Jesse's hitching, sobbing breath is the only thing that fills that silence up. He wants to scream at Andyr, demand why Andyr thinks Jesse killing an innocent guy is in any way okay, maybe even scream that Andyr is a sick fuck for thinking this is something Jesse deserves kindness or mercy or acceptance for.
The tenderness of Andyr's fingers having gently brushed his tears away has imprinted a lingering memory on Jesse's cheeks. Just like Andyr dragging his ass out of the club, and Andyr throwing his ass into the shower to clean him up, and Andyr staying with him that same night, the way Ronan had. Though Andyr had been rough and callous with him then, tenderness had lurked underneath. Jesse knows Andyr cares about him. It angers Jesse and weakens him all at once.
Jesse, sad, pathetic, desperately lonely piece of shit that he is who is always longing for tenderness underneath all the chaos he causes, suddenly caves. With his face scrunching up in despair, he shifts on the mattress, rolling onto his side and huddling straight into Andyr's personal space. He buries his face against Andyr's chest with a broken sob, seeking safety and something to anchor him against this awful storm raging inside him.
Of course he still wants Andyr here. He doesn't deserve it, but he can't help it. ]
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If Jesse had been the one to listen to someone talking like he is now, he would be repulsed. Call them a sick fuck. Take some kind of moral high ground, despite his own morals being dug nearly six feet under dirt and filth.
Maybe if Andyr had confessed to him at some other time, in some other way, that he, too, is a cold-blooded, merciless killer, Jesse would have backed right off and judged the shit out of him, even in spite of everything Andyr has done for him. Or maybe he would have found himself unable to judge him like that, if only because he'd witnessed first-hand a glimpse into the horrific torture Andyr had been put through in his past.
Silence stretches between Andyr asking if Jesse still wants him here and Jesse lying there staring at him, tears streaming down his face. Jesse's hitching, sobbing breath is the only thing that fills that silence up. He wants to scream at Andyr, demand why Andyr thinks Jesse killing an innocent guy is in any way okay, maybe even scream that Andyr is a sick fuck for thinking this is something Jesse deserves kindness or mercy or acceptance for.
The tenderness of Andyr's fingers having gently brushed his tears away has imprinted a lingering memory on Jesse's cheeks. Just like Andyr dragging his ass out of the club, and Andyr throwing his ass into the shower to clean him up, and Andyr staying with him that same night, the way Ronan had. Though Andyr had been rough and callous with him then, tenderness had lurked underneath. Jesse knows Andyr cares about him. It angers Jesse and weakens him all at once.
Jesse, sad, pathetic, desperately lonely piece of shit that he is who is always longing for tenderness underneath all the chaos he causes, suddenly caves. With his face scrunching up in despair, he shifts on the mattress, rolling onto his side and huddling straight into Andyr's personal space. He buries his face against Andyr's chest with a broken sob, seeking safety and something to anchor him against this awful storm raging inside him.
Of course he still wants Andyr here. He doesn't deserve it, but he can't help it. ]