card houses

He used to love them—because Emma loved them. Ginny, too. Emma loved them because Sundays are the only days where she's allowed to spend the day at Jesse's apartment. Ginny loved them because she had no classes nor work to do, also because she had the free time to cook, which was always her favorite hobby.

The plan was that Emma and Ginny would come over at Jesse's apartment and his roommate would leave to visit his girlfriend upstate. It was a beautiful tradition they had, and he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

Jesse would wake up early in the morning (eight o'clock being his earliest) and clean the apartment to his best of abilities, while busting out his Xbox 360 and a bunch of DVDs for them to watch. Ginny would arrive first, groceries in hand for the perfect meals and desserts that she could make for their little family. Then, Emma would arrive a few hours later, with her books and aced tests that she wanted to show off to the two.

His Sundays consisted of nothingness but goofy jokes and good food.

Ginny adored Emma, and Emma idolized Ginny. The two became fast friends, though Ginny held her doubts. Emma was never a timid girl. She was energetic and outspoken; Jesse told her that, and the way she acted while they spent time together worried Ginny. How her face paled a notch every time Emma made her visits to Jesse's. How her smiles faded into gilded lines on her lips. How her exuberance dwindled into passivity. It scared Ginny; having known to lost her own loves ones to illnesses.

Jesse didn't show his worry, or at least he tried not to. He wanted to be just as optimistic as his two favorite girls were, and he held the belief that Emma would recover. Instead of thinking about the future, he basked on his happiness in the present. No matter what, they made their Sunday traditions happen.

But it wasn't until Emma stopped visiting that he faced the truth.

Emma was too weak to go to school, let alone visit him every Sunday. Ginny's career began to expand, spreading from one company to another.

Their Sunday visits suddenly stopped, and instead Jesse began to focus on his education.

He avoided his sordid situation as much as he could. He buried his time with passing tests and performing street magic—doing anything to act as a distraction from the change that happened in his life. It scared him, but he never admitted to it.

His Sundays were with nothing but books and papers and coffee.

When Jesse heard the news of Emma's health declining, he visited her at the hospital, but seeing her once vibrant face dull into a pallid, hollow shell broke his heart more than anything. When Emma hurt, he hurt as well. Ginny never had the heart to visit Emma with him, but he couldn't her blame her. Her illness became the center of his life since then. It consumed him whole, and he didn't care about anything. Not college, magic, not anything.

His Sundays consisted of sleeping on a chair beside Emma's bed.

He spent most of his time in her hospital room, showing her new magic tricks. He didn't even go to his own graduation. Ginny began to worry for him as well. It seemed as though that's what Ginny did most of the time. Worry for the siblings. She tried to reach out to Jesse, to touch and heal him in some way, but she couldn't. He shut himself out, and it began to take a toll on their relationship.

Weeks after Jesse's descent into depression, Ginny decided that they needed closure. She told him that before she would continue with her career, she wanted to explore. Explore the world, with him, especially. But her plan of escape backfired on her—Jesse attacked her, accusing her of being selfish in the midst of his crisis.

He pushed her away; pushed her until they both snapped until Jesse had no one left but his dying sister. His life began to crumble and he held onto Emma as if she herself held his own life on her fingertips. She encouraged him to do whatever it was that made him happy, and at that time, it was magic.

Other than Emma, magic was what brought a smile to his face. The way people lit up at the sight of tricks that couldn't be explained by science—or anything, really, made him feel joy, as did Emma.

From then on, his Sundays were just him on the streets, performing magic to ever-growing crowds.

One fateful day, he scored an real gig, and with the encouragement of her sister, he decided to pursue an actual career in magic. He began to believe that maybe, just maybe, his life could begin to turn around.

But he couldn't be more wrong.

Right after his very first performance, his father called him to tell him what he'd dreaded the most.

Emma had passed away in her sleep.

Jesse broke down into a heaping mess of anger and tears; he couldn't placate his nerves to the point where rage blinded him and robbed him of his senses.

He ran away. He took all of his money and began to travel the country on his bike. He didn't care who he left, or who he met on the way. Life seemed so empty now, and he felt like a fool, running in circles and coming back to his home hoping that maybe he'd see Emma running across the hall and greeting him hello. He lived a pitiful existence, yet he continued to manage, though he didn't know why.

No matter how much trouble he got himself into, he found himself saved and miraculously unharmed. His magic served as an escape for him, as well as a remembrance that there was still one thing that could keep him alive if he wanted to—and that was his talent. With that in mind, he returned home, though he never told anyone.

Months went by and the infamous tarot card catapulted him into a new life. He wasn't the frail and sensitive man he was. He was a normal man, veiled with humor and kindness. He met new people, new friends if he dared to say so himself.

Jesse's only goal now was to make enough money to sustain himself for the rest of his life, and to never worry about a single thing again.

Sundays meant nothing to him anymore.

As time progressed, however, his lingering sadness began to take over him, when he was alone. When his fellow Horsemen were doing their own business, Jesse was alone in his room, looking at photos of him, and Emma, and Ginny from all those years ago. He realized how time can be such a bitch, but it also coped with him long enough for him to realize that he could survive his life.

His Sundays began to liven up again; with his mini-gigs and spending time with the other Horsemen; talking about anything and everything they could come up with. The smile on his face began to seem genuine, if not a little thin.

The people he melded with were similar to him, though their bond was more of an unspoken pact instead of a family. They mattered to each other, and they all got along well. It was better than nothing, and he appreciated their company. Though they haven't told each other their stories, and probably never will, it was comforting to find shelter with a group of people whose lives were near akin to his. It reminded him that it'll always be okay.