šŖ šøš³šŖšµš¦ š«š¦šŗ š¢š“ š„š¢š®š¢šØš¦š„. he makes the active decision to be kind when he wants to be, to repress all he's learned through years of abuse at roman's hand. that being said, he remembers how it feels to be the most powerful man in the room.
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"man, they done snatched up another one." jey's still lit up from the mic, on the red brand dressed in blue and lounging like he's been here for years. "what is it with all you fine girls and the judgement day, huh? what they promise you?" feels a little hollow without jimmy to press him on, without the both of them reflecting each other endlessly and building to crescendo. maybe this approach is better suited to a jey long dead, but he's in too deep to wade back out now. "i promise whatever they got, i got too, 'cept i can keep the lights on." @countouts, jey and evi, ā”.
i am in the swing of a BAD manic episode at the current moment and i start work again tomorrow so we'll see what i'm getting up to. i have so much energy and want to promise the world but we'll see
"that's my dawg!" the others treat jey's joviality like it marks him naive. maybe he is, but he's always looked head on at andreas' teeth and decided that dancing with them is more fun than keeping himself safe. "we gon' get you in the articles, you feel me? yo, yo, tell me which side you wanna get snapped on, huh?" he plays messy, swinging an arm around the shoulders that are closest, clapping andreas with one delighted hand. "we takin' you out uso style, yeet."
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there's something about the yellow bulbs and floral curtains in this place that have him unmoored. maybe in some distant memory jey shapes this place familiar, a grandmother or a friend of the family and the sleepy safety of every adult he knows gathered at once in a kitchen spilling life. the only difference is that there are no tangle of brother-and-cousin limbs for him to sink into, just the bed at his back and the carpet he's drawing patterns in with the heel of his sneaker. evi talks quietly when they're like this, wrapped up after a long day but neither of them quite managing sleep just yet. if he's still wired, he'll go for a smoke and a run, but first he wants to soothe her out. "damn. nah, i hear that."
before she got here, when he'd first been given the key, he'd shoved his bed as far from hers as it could go. left a stupid note on her pillow with a wink etched into the paper with the same permanent marker he writes on his shades with, the dry and cracking outline of the thing the only sign it was there at all (white on white, uce, but it was all he had to tell her it was respect, not fear). "makes you feel like... i dunno. like wantin' somethin' like that makes you weak, huh." jey doesn't ask. doesn't need to. "like it ain't... like it's just you. like you by yourself in it."
smoke curls between his gold teeth, slipping out through the spaces between and reminding the night air, at the least, that he is a fanged creature. monday night has pulled out his claws once again, left him edging the watering hole as the greying big dog takes laps from his well. "ain't no janitors out here," he calls as the door opens, dom's hair making it out before his head does. jey knows a cornered animal when he sees one. "jus' me." if only. "come sit, jailbird. i know damn well you ain't smoke, so i'll keep it clean." - @latin0cheat unprompted.
"'feel life' is crazy." settling into his lack of invitation, jey squares his shoulders and drops his chin solidly onto his folded arms. "life ain't somethin' that just happens to you, man." a mistake he'd made when he was younger, waiting with painted face and childlike hope that the things he'd dreamed for would mistake their way into his lap someday. he's much more familiar with seeking them out, now, and always with running commentary. "i be appreciatin' more than you do, if you be hanging around in spots like this all 'lemme hang out and feel life'. go get it, uce."
"man, you ain't the only one had it hard!" he ignores every other accusation to defend only this. it's true that he'd coasted in some ways, followed a path that solo hadn't been shown until he was already halfway up the mountain alone, but should that then mean he takes what's spat up? jey's done bearing the injustice of someone else's rage. tuning his own is hard enough, a burden and a chore all its own - solo's grown, now. he can't keep knocking on jey's door because the night is too dark for sleep to come easy. "you wanna talk like we ain't fight like you did, like we just shown up and got it all laid out. ten years i spent fuckin' around tryna 'be somebody'."
the hardest thing of all to stomach is that without roman, they'd still be there. all three of them and jacob too, collarless pups without a bowl to drink from, snapping at rainwater to get their fill. "you get called up, what, a year in? you did some dark shit, solo, i ain't sayin' it was nothin', but you gotta get your head all the way out your ass and look." the sick need to win tightens in jey's throat, holding fast to everything he knows he's got no right to say. he swallows the words down, shakes his head hard. "you got no right to talk 'bout turnin' backs, man. not one of us do."
i watch raw and i crash out and that's the natural order of things. let me be soooo clear i cannot live my life with another jey and roman reconciliation storyline to me that is just not happening. i struggled enough to stomach the one in november and i simply am not doing it again
the way i write jey in the current timeline, he's not in a place where he ever sees himself forgiving roman. recovery isn't linear, sure, and jey's been under so much pressure to prove that he deserves love and loyalty and protection for so long that he can and will stumble, but not to the extent of picking roman up from the mat. not to the extent of running out and saving his stupid ass from a fight he started. the way i write jey pulls so much from his temper, his desperation to actually be free, the lengths he's willing to go to in order to scrub himself clean of everything he was in the bloodline.
right now, my jey's headspace is like. idk he's just so angry at roman, ashamed of the things he did just because roman told him to, ashamed of the way it made him feel when he was that powerful, and he's taking all of that out on roman as well as everything else. it's not all righteous fury; some of it is selfish, a desire to lash out at the guilt he's carrying still. if he fights hard enough against it, it'll go away. he's used to brute forcing his way through his feelings and this is no different.
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"word?" jey fumbles for his pocket even though he wasn't asked, slapping both with jovial hands and finding a dogeared pack in one, a lighter in the next. "i got the real cheap shit, my bad." it's rare he indulges these days - he kicked the habit under roman, too ashamed of his vices to let them mean more to him than family did, and still feels the guilt even now. the deep and steady breaths help him relax after he flies, though, and picking shit up at airports almost never counts. "got a light too, if you need one. go 'head."
bright for her, he laughs, shakes his head with a sense of humility that's still brand new. "they funny, what they be barkin' for." jey hasn't quite figured it out yet, what makes the collective locker room mouth yelp, but he's heard enough of the braying to recognise it from two rooms over. the women's space can't be that much different from his own. "you the man, that's all. i'm gonna put some respect on the og's name no matter what." he's only this at ease around people he knows understand - some are too clean-cut, too righteous in their wanting, but becky's got teeth like him. "won't say no to a shout-out, though. 'holla at my uce, he got them big arms, he got me through some hard times-'"
what surprises him more than the sudden press of lips is the bravery against them. evi takes him by the back of the head, both hands twisted through his loose curls, and the only reason she doesn't need to pull is that he's already going easy. maybe one of the other girls said something (god, he hopes so), slipped a snide barb between evi's teeth with the intention of leaving her to chew on it. instead, jey finds it fed to him, slipped into his mouth like the worst-kept secret he's ever known. jey kisses hard, lingering, a language he only half-knows and can only half-speak, here, now, you. even the lipgloss on his bottom lip makes him dizzy, what would otherwise be a sticky and unpleasant distraction instead a reminder that she's on him, leaving something behind that he can keep when the cameras switch off. when they part to breathe, he's holding evi's hips sweet, thumbs brushing the delicate lace atop her thighs. "...a'ight," he manages after a second, trying hard not to fumble, barely successful. "what i do?"
this is probably the longest conversation he's ever had with ellis, and jey's already feeling the strain. often he can breeze through even the deadest of air, bark bright and look playful even when he's walking lame, but this is whiplash like he's hardly ever known. "i ain't a snitch," he says, careless and easy all at once. "light up, uce. might get all'a that existential shit outta you, feel me?" he can't say the abyss has ever bitten him on the ass. echoed his silence back at him, maybe, cast him into a light he can barely squint through, sure, but whenever he visits, it lacks teeth. "could jus' go outside, though. or to your car. you don't got a rental?"
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something ugly in him rears, though he makes no show of it. "all good. i ain't even know your name, so you still winnin'." the shiny new things are always like this, unless they're too busy hiding behind corners to look at him head on. jey appraises this one with a bored sort of formality. he'll never have to stand opposite her, so why should he bother? "you'll find out 'f you stick around long enough. yeet."
the absurdity of it dawns slow. jey isn't afraid, not like he once was, dripping tears with every camera in the room determined to catch it clean. not like he once was when roman stood tall over him, jimmy's trembling body bowed between them both, a boy's shame and a man's efforts only ever pushing him halfway. jey rolls his neck, reminds himself that he, painted jester that he used to be, held roman down for the three count first. before he was himself, that accolade made its way to him, bloomed between hands that were too unsure to keep it ripe. "man..." he breathes, knowing neither of them will let this go. too determined, too comfortable with the grooves of their teeth, too settled playing tug of war with the dead thing that was their family.
"you good at talkin', uce. seth got us all thinkin' it was always him, but that ain't what it is. the wise man, too, he wanna say he laid it all out for you. some of them trust that. not me." jey was all but the prototype, the first listening ear, the first desperate and praying mouth. he knows better than anyone how sweet the song sounds when you've been humming the tune all your life, never really knowing the words. "you believe all'a that, huh." for a time jey had suspected (or maybe hoped) that everything roman said was a bid to convince at least himself of something grander. the further on the outside he is, the clearer jey hears the horrible conviction. "your god shit. i see it, uce."
he's not sure what he wants. the bloody business will never end, not as long as all the pack dogs still have strength to snap. "you think you lookin' out for me, even now? like this all gotta hurt to be real. that it?" jey won't ever break through. it's all too hard and heavy, and he's not smart enough to find the words he needs for it, but maybe he doesn't need to. maybe he can speak on his own behalf for his own needs and not hope with bated breath that roman will hear him. "i don't live like that, uce. not no more. if it hurt, it ain't what's best for me. i don't wanna hear no 'that's just how it is'. it ain't. never been."
