those who fall

David knows confessions are dangerous. 

They’re promises, in a way. He hasn’t sworn himself over to a cause as unpredictable as Jesse since he first decided to work past his visions. But the truth is, this feels like more of a turn in his life than even his choice to alter the future–to very likely shorten his lifespan–and only God knows what else. 

He just doesn’t have time to weigh in the other options. “The first time? It was complicated.” David speaks carefully, deliberate. He knows Jesse doesn’t do so well with cliffhangers–he probably wants to know he’ll be safe. At least they’re at his house. 

“I didn’t know your face, but I knew you could use a hand. What I saw–” It wasn’t quite divine, but the aura he could see around Jesse emanated something otherworldly. “It was just you. Moving, I don’t know. You looked like trouble–and like fun.” 

But he’s all talk, and there’s no reason to hold off the rest. “Last night, I think I saw something more. But you might want me to stick around a little longer when I tell you. Or… maybe not–but I can help.” 

The truths David is trying to spell out for him might not be any easier to say than they are for Jesse to hear, and some logical part of his brain acknowledges that. It just isn’t enough to restore feeling to his cold fingers, or erase the dread churning in his gut.

There’s no satisfaction in the thought that every doubt Jesse had wasn’t just the ugly whispers of paranoia. They hadn’t met by accident. David had dreamed him up, and then he’d come looking for him. It’s a thought he’d like to consider without that awful terror that has it’s claws in him, incapable of shaking the thought repeating in his head; David knows.

“You want to help?" His disbelief makes the words come out quick and sharp, the concept a foreign one. His mother raised him on horror stories and violent warnings, all wrapped in the guise of scripture.

“What’d you see? What do you...?" He can’t finish the question. Even now, he doesn’t dare ask David flat out what he might know about him. Still, he wants the band-aid ripped off, the quiet terror he feels given a name at least, instead of this uncertainty.

David’s expecting nervousness. Their fates together hinge on his next few words, and his eyes soften at the thought. Losing Jesse after the progress they’ve made is a nauseating prospect.

“I think you know half of the story.” But that’s only what he thinks after a short while of knowing him. He tries to justify that reaction with an apologetic smile—David extends an open hand, to hold onto, to anchor the boy who still seems so lost. It’s so lucky he found him, David thinks.

He couldn’t stand for Jesse to be alone a second longer. “But I know a whole lot less than half. So much as you’ve got the last say, I just wanna put my two cents in. I dropped it in the fountain, you know? When I almost got you smiling the first time.” David crooks a smile then, blood warm and head light.

“I could be. What I see’s only half the story, too.” Or… maybe not. But that’s how he treats it. “I saw you. It just… wasn’t exactly a dream. Can I say that?” He doesn’t want to scare him; David recognizes the tremor in his nerves is anticipation. He’s terrified of losing all this in a split-second mistake. “I… have not-dreams, and sometimes I try to change them.” 

It’s easy for Jesse to accept, disbelief never registering when he himself wasn’t normal. David calls them not-dreams; he can fill in the blanks on his own what that might mean. Visions or prophecies, fortune telling or effortless prediction, he doesn’t really know what the right word might be, but without that doubt filtering his thought process only fear can follow.

It leaves him still, frozen in place even when David holds out a hand for his. He stares at it, gaze tracing the lines of his palm while he tries to remember how to breathe. His blood’s already running cold, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, fingers pressing tighter against the ceramic cup in his hands. Even that won’t warm him now, because this is how too many of his nightmares begin; someone knows. Even if David only knows half, or fragments, it’s already too much, and Jesse doesn’t have a fraction of that foresight.

He doesn’t know what happens next. Only what he imagines will, and those nightmares always end with him dead. Whatever trust he’d like to place in the boy in front of him, it’s too tenuous and fragile a concept to wrap his fingers around now.

He’s terrified to even ask the question waiting on his tongue. As if the second he gets an answer this whole room will simply collapse inwards and crush him, every carefully constructed wall rendered worthless. It’s only the awareness that it’s too late to run that has him unhinging his jaw, voice steadier than he feels.

“What did you see about me?”

“You’re a special case. Outlier. Can’t be counted, ‘cause you’ve got influence over me.” But David’s smile makes it perfectly clear that he doesn’t mind that, either. 

The prospect of sharing his truth with Jesse is a matter of suspended disbelief. Whatever chaos Jesse comes from, he’s about to be submerged by another. There is some degree of apology in David’s follow-up grin, where he clears his throat and tries to think through how this story’s about to start. 

“I met you ‘cause I wanted to meet you. Does that clear up a thing or two?” It’s so much more complicated, but he has to start somewhere. “Okay, how about this–did you ever go to the carnival as a kid? Or a festival, somewhere? Did you ever see one of those ladies with crazy hair and long nails with those long cards? Tarot, I think.” 

But this is only a distraction from the truth at hand. One he wants to offer sooner than later. “Have you ever had anybody tell you your future?”

“Not really.” It doesn’t make anything clearer, but it does make him more afraid. That paranoia that kept him up at night feeling more and more justified by the second.

Nothing that follows helps all that much, even if it does summon a few of his brighter childhood memories. His mother never had a lot, neither did he, just holes in his jeans and a crushing fear of God. But every year, without fail, she took him to the county fair, fed him funnel cake for dinner, and he could pretend for that one day that he was as normal as anyone else there.

He never went in any of those tents promising psychic or tarot readings. He never needed to, not when he could imagine every worst case scenario for himself. It makes the answer sharper than David might deserve right now. “I know my future.”

Jesse’s spine straightens, like it might protect him when his mouth feels drier by the second. Fingers tight around his coffee, half forgotten when instead he’s focusing on just how predictable David seemed to find the world around him.

“The cold makes me so tired. And you’ve kept me up late before, you know.” Whether that’s because they’re up on a roof, or just because David’s scared he won’t see Jesse again are two whole other conversations. He seals them up with a sure smile, not sure what to do other than take a drink.

The next question’s more expected—it’s easier to get into the meat of this than it will be to try not to touch him. “Yeah, I remember.” He doesn’t get drunk for no reason, and yesterday was deliberate in every meaning of the word. “Don’t think I’ve got it down verbatim, but I know I told you it wasn’t all about a dream. That right?”  

This could go so wrong, but it’ll be worse if he doesn’t just give it a shot.

“What do you say, I tell you a story?”

“You didn’t seem to mind.”

For a moment Jesse wears a quiet smile of his own, because he hadn’t minded either. The sunrise looked different when he was sharing it with someone else, it felt warmer on his skin when David was pressing fingerprints into the back of his neck.

The moment doesn’t last, and Jesse’s expression settles into something neutral and unreadable. Uncertain what to think or feel when it came to David, logic and self-preservation set in constant conflict with the quickening of his pulse. He might make it easier to listen to the first when he starts to talk, because it’s not the starting point he expects, even if he should.

It hasn’t registered to him as anything but a line. ‘I saw you in a dream once’ something to get a guy’s attention, and maybe to his credit it had worked. Jesse was paying attention now, even if his gaze didn’t quite want to settle on David for long. Too distracting, his eyes too intense.

“You told me you were sorry. And that you haven’t been honest.” Something that should have rung as louder warning bells than they did at the time, but the tension in his shoulders makes up for it now. “Is your story gonna clear that up for me?”

David wakes up a few times, none of them very forgiving. He’s been here enough times not to be miserably hungover—but he didn’t drink quite as much water as he might have, drinking home alone to instigate a vision. Either way, the couch doesn’t disorient him as much as it would… were he anywhere else.

But every time he’s greeted with the dark, he remembers who’s just a room over.

David dreams of his hands. The jagged edges of Jesse’s rough knuckles. How it feels when the pads of his fingers pressed up against his face. And when he wakes up, he’s smiling.

He can look into the future, but he can’t always see the past. And he’s determined to make what he can of history with the boy holding coffee out for him again.

“Morning. We haven’t actually seen each other at this hour yet, have we?” David thinks out loud, noting his voice is still groggy. He takes the coffee in both hands, and grins before sipping. “Thanks for taking in this stray. You sleep all right?”

David takes the offered mug and Jesse moves both hands to his own. Fingers curling around the warm ceramic, breathing in the familiar smell of coffee. If it’s served as a stand-in for a good night’s sleep on more than one occasion, this morning he's sure he needs it less than the boy in front of him when he’s not the one nursing a hangover.

Which makes the question almost funny, a slight shrug serves as his answer. Sleep was evasive enough on his best days, a few hours stolen at a time. It didn’t come any easier when he knew he wasn’t alone, ears straining for any signs of wakefulness. Uneasiness juxtaposed against quieter, more selfish thoughts; what it might be like if David had fallen onto his bed instead. What it might feel like to wake up to an arm around his waist and warm breath on his neck.

His fingers curl tighter around the mug in his hand.

“Should be asking you that. Looked like you passed out pretty fast.” His lips quirk in faint amusement for that much, how quickly and easily the man had made himself at home. Face first on his couch, so Jesse had tossed a blanket over him and left him there.

A sip of coffee helps warm his throat, but it goes down bitter, and doesn’t make it any easier to get any of his questions past his lips. He wants to ask if David meant anything he said last night, why he called Jesse; and he’s just as certain he wouldn’t know what to do with the answers.

Jesse’s morning rituals were simple and predictive, shower first, then fresh brewed coffee, and no part of it ever involved someone else in his space. There was no room for drunk boys passed out on his couch, no one else slept in his bed, and for the most part no one else knew where he lived. Isolating, maybe, but safer.

It was unsettling just how quick he was to start breaking his rules for David.

Last night everything had felt strangely easier; David intoxicated, the hand Jesse rested against his throat both gentle and proprietary. The onset of morning only reminded him that nothing was simple with the boy who’d blacked out on his couch. His teeth still sharp, something terrible hidden behind those blue eyes that looked like the same pool he’d drowned in.

It might make Jesse too eager to see him leave, or at least to rid himself of the uneasiness that had settled over his shoulders. He could make all the wishes he wanted, toss coins into still waters and pretend they weren’t prayers, but it didn’t mean he should expect a single one of them to come true. It didn’t mean that he could start trusting any of the words past David’s lips, especially when there was more liquor than blood in his veins.

If nothing else, it has him moving more quietly when he goes about his morning, and when the coffee’s made he sits himself on the edge of his living room table, his own mug resting comfortably on his knee. The other he dangles from his fingers as he offers it out. “Good morning."

David’s not delirious just yet. He knows they’re headed back somewhere he won’t see again for a while—not concretely, anyway. Jesse’s ‘just tonight’ isn’t lost on him.

“You really are good to me.”

But he’s about to get rewarded for something that sounded almost impossible just days ago. No matter what aches in the pit of his stomach, or what itches at the center of his palms, they have to keep moving forward. And what Jesse gives him when they drive back to his safe place is more than David can express.

That’s why he doesn’t ask for any more stories once the blocks turn into the last few streets before Jesse’s car comes to a stop. He stumbles out the door and back onto pavement, instead, heart a pleasant lump in his throat and a dumb grin on his face.

He bridges some of the distance between them, enough to take Jesse’s free hand in his. “Promise I won’t come find you here ‘nless you ask me to. You can. You can trust me. Okay?” He leans against him for leverage, eyes fluttering shut as he tries to focus.

“Thanks. I mean, thank you. Know you probably feel like, I dunno, like you didn’t luck out with me. But I’m gonna change your mind.” 

Silence falls comfortably, and Jesse doesn’t move to break it with anything more than the humming of his car’s engine. He could argue if he wanted to, but he doesn’t, warmth serving as a pleasant weight settling over his chest. It lingers even after he parks and climbs back out onto a street, dimly lit by dying streetlights.

He’s stopped by David catching his hand, and he feels warmer than the cold night air says he has any right to be when promises follow.

What could he possibly say to that? David can make all the promises he wants, but Jesse can’t say he trusts him because he simply doesn’t know how to. It’s like asking him to close his eyes and step off the edge of a building, a sunrise too insubstantial to catch him.

It doesn’t matter either, because he can’t take it back now that they’re standing right outside his building. All he’s got left is the hope that he’s telling him the truth, a steady pressure on his chest because he offered the words at all. It makes his own voice lower, as if speaking any louder will betray just how much it means to Jesse just to hear it. “Holding you to that.”

He pauses, silence always serving him better, and unlike his companion he isn’t drunk enough for all the courage it might take to return that sincerity written plainly on David’s features. He doesn’t know him enough to call it unfamiliar, but it feels it, and that has his hand moving first. As if the body leaning against his frame offers him permission for it. Warm palm settling against the side of David’s neck, thumb grazing the line of his jaw. “That’s not what I feel.”

Jesse says he doesn’t know any stories, and David’s more grateful for the fact that he can’t hold his tongue than he’s ever been. Jesse’s got stories written into the hard shades in his eyes—thousands of them. He can see them flickering between breaths, when he stares long enough not to miss.

“You’re a liar, you know that? A pretty liar, with a pretty lying mouth. But I’ll forgive you—don’ worry. You’re honest with me sometimes.”

And for David, sometimes is enough. The rest, he can put together on his own. The next question just prompts a long, languid roll of his neck. “Home? Home’s so far,” He pushes himself back in the passenger seat, watching Jesse’s face for a sign that he might make another choice.

“Take me home with you,” He says, just above a whisper. “That’ll be story enough for me.” And he’s not lying; it’s more of the truth he has to offer than he should. That’s the thing with Jesse, he makes it easy to want one future.

One, which he shares.

“Or,” He pauses, “you can head all the way back across town and carry me up the stairs to my apartment. Your call.”

Jesse keeps his mouth shut. If David’s tongue is looser, words blurred and blended together by however much he’s had to drink, Jesse’s is stuck to the roof of his mouth. He can’t defend himself, even if he wanted to, though David takes any sting out of it with more words that ring all too sweetly in his ears.

It leaves him trying to swallow down that terrifying and uncomfortable urge to be honest for once in his life. Every lie is a shield, every one is a prison, some days he can’t tell the difference. Tonight it feels like that distinction doesn’t really matter at all, not when there’s nothing cruel written in the curve of a mouth he’s trying not to stare at. Attention better directed towards the road, and he almost fails at that thanks to the quiet request.

It’s a bad idea. It’s what he’s supposed to think, what he’d like to convince himself of, and those thoughts don’t do anything to chase away the thrill that races down his spine thanks just to how softly David says it. Like a prayer offered up, just to him.

His teeth rip at the inside of his mouth. It’s a bad idea, and the thought repeats itself. But he doesn’t ask for directions again, following the road back home and refusing to think beyond that. Not when the future has always been too terrifying of a prospect.

“Yeah. Alright. Just tonight.”

The fuzzy warmth knocking back and forth around in David’s head leaves him without the sharper retorts he’s usually so on about. He’s knocked off his horse, and he’s a little more than defenseless. It isn’t that he’s afraid not to keep his mouth shut.

Sooner or later, he and Jesse will come to some kind of understanding. If they kick it off sooner than later, he can’t find the regret (or the worry) just yet. He’s too cozy, too hot in the blood. Too quick to let his eyes trail down the smooth, open skin of Jesse’s throat while he drives.

They watch each other for a second, and David feels the time slow. It’s like an ache in his throat.

Only there’s no remedy for this—definitely not for the way he thinks no winning vision could beat Jesse’s picking up the call that’s led them here. “Yeah. My bad, you’re right—“ He snickers through his teeth, but it lasts longer. Turns into more of a breathless hiss. And it only makes him laugh harder while he shakes his head, disbelieving.

“And besides, for all my cliche’s, you and me both know all’s fair in love and war.” David smothers himself with the back of his hand, doing his best to settle down. “I’m tired. The cold makes me sleepy.”

Then he smiles, shrugging off the warning. “Not gonna puke. Tell me a story? To help me stay up.”  

David gives in easier when he’s drunk, and if Jesse doesn’t call him out on it he’s still biting on the corner of his lip to try and stop some answering laugh. It’s dangerous how easily it rises in his throat, how easy it was to forget that two hours ago he had himself convinced he’d written the other boy off. To hell with him, Jesse was better off without any added complications to his life.

But here he is, somewhere beyond the window is a fountain where he’s made more than a few wishes, and he thinks David’s the closest he’s come to one of them coming true.

He blows out a breath before he starts to drive, nevermind that he doesn’t fully know his destination yet. Now that he’s here it feels stupid that he didn’t think this through, because he doesn’t like people knowing where he lives. Bad enough he knows where he works, and it’s no consolation he might not remember much of the car ride.

“I don’t know any stories.” None that he can summon on the spot at least, none that don’t revolve almost completely around David’s smile, his breathless laughter still warming his skin. Jesse shakes his head, all his effort placed into keeping his attention on the road.

“Why don’t you tell me how to get you home. Then you can sleep all you want.”

David’s heart is starved, and Jesse is a three course meal. His secrets through the blanks in the sound of his voice leave David at a loss. No, that’s not it. This isn’t about loss—it’s about gains. They have so much to gain here, and he’s hung up on Jesse’s slanted, pretty mouth like there’s nothing else to hold for leverage in the world.

“Oh, you don’t? What if I’d been all sniffly? Think—think you’d, uh—you’d still wanna come get me then?” He feigns a stuffy nose, laughing in-between breaths.

The car pulls up and David’s eyes flash. He ambles up to the window like it’s a lighthouse, and he’s the last ship on shore. 

“I’m happy, all right.” He hangs up the phone, tugging the door open and stumbling over his feet before falling into the passenger seat. Laughing at his clumsiness, he shuts the door behind him and reclines as far as he can.

Carding a hand through his hair, the space around him spins a little. When he tips his head in Jesse’s direction, it’s like everything moves too slowly (and too quickly to catch up with that).

But he’s used to this.

He’s just not used to restraint—like the sheer amount he uses in not grabbing Jesse’s hand. “You already got me missing you. How’s that fair?”

Jesse’s immediate answer is yes, yes he’d still probably be here, because there’s already a list of reasons why he shouldn’t be. A runny nose wouldn’t make a difference. He’s left grateful that he never has to answer, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and his presence at the side of the road enough of a distraction for both of them.

The line goes dead a split second before his door opens, no more invitation needed for the boy who piles inside. Clumsy, tripping over his own feet as he makes himself comfortable in the passenger seat.

And Jesse thinks if anything isn’t fair, it’s the way he finds himself responding to the sound of his laughter, the warmth spreading through his chest, the quickening of his heart rate. The way his eyes follow the drag of David’s fingers through his hair and the quick and uninvited urge to replace them with his own. He wants to still be mad at him, but the feeling’s slipping too quickly through his grasp when he’s left trying to catch his breath.

“I’m here, aren’t I? That’s not fair enough?”

Fear’s a constant noose around his neck, pulling tighter and tighter in a harsh reminder of why he shouldn’t have come at all. His life is easier when there’s no one else in it. It’s also colder, the car suddenly a few degrees warmer than it was a minute ago, his brain forced to remind his hands to move, to start the car back up and turn his attention away from the boy next to him.

The alcohol chips away at David’s senses. Jesse’s voice all but pulses in his ears; there’s nothing but the time they’ll spend together soon. The cold around him, nipping at his neck, seems so much less prevalent. And the longer they speak, the easier it is to hang onto those words.

He thinks he’s luckier than he deserves. If he was going to be cut loose, it probably would have happened. Why come look after some drunk idiot you want nothing to do with? 

(Surely, Jesse wants something to do with him. That much just gets cemented when their next time’s brought up.)

David smiles so wide his cheeks sting. The wind doesn’t make it any worse. His neck is unbearably warm and he shakes his head as if Jesse could see him. “Yes I do. I owe you that. C’mon—I was an ass. Still am, for calling you in the middle of the night. But it’s cold, see, and I don’t…”

The words dance right off his tongue.

“I don’t wanna make any more wishes without you, sweetheart. Realllllly don’t.”

It’s close enough to an apology, and it leaves Jesse silent in response. Tongue pressing against the sharpest points of his teeth, unnerved by how easy it’d be to tell David it doesn’t matter. If he was an ass, Jesse never makes anything easy, not even on himself. It’s easy to call up every cold, clipped word that passed between them, but it’s just as easy to recall the feel of his fingers pressing against the back of his neck.

He blows out a breath of air before there’s a slight shake of his head. Fingers tight on the wheel, phone still pressed to his ear. “I don’t mind that you called me.”

It’s late enough in the night that he’s tired of fighting himself, and this might be his stand in for a dream. The roads haunting in their emptiness, street lights illuminating the only path he sees forward. Even the cold slipping around the edge of his window doesn’t serve to chase that warmth from his bones from the way David drags out the words.

Sweet enough that he swears he can taste them, like standing on that rooftop all over again with the remnant of a too sweet latte on his tongue. He doesn’t know if David just means tonight or something more enduring, but Jesse doesn’t dare consider it long.

“Least you’re a happy drunk.”

David’s dancing on the edge of the earth. The fountain behind him is full of incredible things. Some promises, some prayers, some uncompromising change that’ll never come to fruition—all of it. But no matter the failures it brings, he loves the sound of water.

It’s refreshing, like standing on another roof. He can breathe in the sky, the sea from here. The scent of Jesse’s cologne, the taste of his breath. David tongues the corner of his mouth at the thought alone, but the shitty daiquiri from earlier comes up short. Jesse’s responses, however, don’t miss a thing.

“I’m right here. I’m coming on. And who says? What do I sound like?” David wonders what he looks like, not what he sounds like. What impression has he left on Jesse to leave himself above fear? Beyond the predictable nerves that hold so many people back? He lets go of something he probably should have done a while ago.

But he can’t stop smiling; his cheeks ache. “I’m scared of not getting to see you again, your pretty birthmarks too. Screw that.”

The muffled sound of an engine makes his heart sing. “I’m all out of Toto. And the red shoes. Maybe if I’d known you were coming, I would’ve gotten dressed up.”

It sounds like a promise, or maybe just wish fulfillment, that David’s still there. Somewhere on the other side of the line, maybe tossing away coins like prayers. They shouldn’t make a dent in Jesse’s resolve, he tells himself he shouldn’t have even picked up the phone, but it chips away at that wall he’s tried to keep between himself and everyone around him.

Easier to tell himself that tomorrow he’ll remind himself what those rules are for. Self-preservation over self-indulgence, only this time he can pretend it’s the act of a good Samaritan. Rushing off so David’s not left drunk and abandoned somewhere, and he blatantly ignores the thought that there are probably better people he could call.

It doesn’t matter. He called Jesse. He’s already got his keys in the ignition and one hand on the wheel. Meanwhile every word past David’s lips tries to crash it’s way through those carefully constructed defenses, and he’s left grateful all over again that he can’t see the tips of his ears turn red at the only fear he’ll name.

“I’m already on my way. You don’t have to keep sweet talking me.”

David’s intent isn’t to play any mind games. The last thing he wants to do is lose Jesse on some power trip, or some stupid sideways play at figuring him out. He just doesn’t want to waste any more time than he already feels he has.

The lag in his mind is a slow molasses. He belatedly wonders if it might have been better if he’d waited back on the roof—even if that would’ve put his life more at risk than it’s been since he started pursuing Jesse as a whole.

“What? Why?” He aligns the heel of his left foot with the toe of his right, boots clicking together. “I’m just as green as you are. Maybe a little less bright-eyed and bushy tailed, but… aw, come on. You mask that pretty well! And I like it when you laugh.” He does. He likes it so much.

Maybe even a little profoundly.

So at the offer for a faster reunion, David surrenders. But Jesse picks up his slack before he needs to do so in full. Halfway through a sigh, he shakes his head and sticks a few fingers under the stream, then wipes them off on his jeans.

“I’m too busy clicking my heels to pray, sweetheart. Come sweep me up already.”

The near biblical fear that lives in his bones couldn’t be quieted by a few sweet words, but for a moment it comes close. He feels less inhuman, less defined by that divinity in his veins, caught up in something as simplistic as the boy he likes, drunk dialing him. It shouldn’t be endearing, maybe if David were s sloppier or crueler drunk then it wouldn’t be.

Instead all he can hear is sincerity ringing in his voice, a far cry from that frustrating condescension that had tainted his words at the bar. Already he feels too far removed from the anger he’d felt then, finding it harder to to hold up that wall when too much of Jesse doesn’t really want to. For a moment he’s left hiding a smile before he remembers there’s no point, he can’t see it anyway.

“You ‘come on.’ You know how you sound.” It’s more playful than accusatory, a certainty that if anyone knows exactly who they are, it’s David. It makes honesty feel easier when that’s what he’s getting, and he doesn’t feel that pressure of eyes on him.

“Green or not, I don’t believe you’re scared of anything.” He locks the door, heading down the stairs with phone still pressed to his ear.

“I don’t know,” David says, mind on the metaphorical. If he leans far enough back, he’ll topple into the gushing stream behind him. But he doesn’t—a miracle of wisdom strikes him for the first time in a while—stays put instead. “I don’t know. I’m not used to this, either.”

But that’s not what they’re talking about.

David thinks if Jesse lets him, he’d go on forever about where they’ll take each other. To the lengths he’s already carried himself in Jesse’s name. There’s nothing to call this absurd, almost-madness. Maybe there’s no sense to find—maybe it’s buried too deep in the future he wants so terribly to say he took part in building from scratch.

He wants too much.

“Where do you think I am?” He kicks one ankle up against the structure’s lower rails. Somehow, he decides it might not be the best idea to hold it up to the cool blue. His grip isn’t incredible at the moment. “I’m not about to get coffee, that’s for sure.”

Jesse takes some initiative that prompts a more enthused hum on his end of the line. “Don’t take your time, it’s cold out here!”

Jesse almost laughs. Half because David misses the very literal nature of the question, and half because of what he does come back with. He doesn’t know what ‘this’ is, but he can fill in the blanks with his own answers. And it’s hard to imagine David saddled with any of those fears and insecurities that Jesse’s dragging around with him like dead weight.

It counts for more than he’d like. An echo of a thought he won’t voice, that there’s something here, even if it’s as simple as mutual attraction.  “Could’ve fooled me.”

His hands grasp at boots kicked off next to the couch, dragging them on his feet with one hand while trying to keep the phone to his ear with the other. If there’s a loud and lingering question of whether or not this is a good idea, the words are already out there. He’s all but promised he’s on his way, and he can’t help the way his heart rate spikes when he thinks of seeing David again. Drunk or not.

“Might get there quicker if you’d just name it.”

Still, he doesn’t know that he needs it. He doesn’t consider himself half as predictive as the man on the other end of the phone, but there’s a short list of places he might guess, and the hint he’s given narrows it down considerably.

Alcohol offers David’s sight a clarity that couldn’t exist without it. Unfortunately, there’s no clarity without consequence. As much as he can look to find out the things he wants with more precision, the barriers of disbelief all severed along with his inhibitions, things like this are also prone to happen.

That said, he wouldn’t call this an accident. Not in the slightest.

But he knows he’ll have to do better if he wants to make all this right. If he wants to get anywhere close to what he’s talking about, he’ll have to be more open. It’s a risk his visions practically promise, however subjective the turn of events ahead of them is destined to be.

Jesse asks if he’s drunk, and David tosses his head back in another laugh. He pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand, leaning against the fountain where they met and plopping onto the ground. The sound of rushing water can’t be too difficult to hear.

“I want to see you. Do you want to see me?” That’s all it comes down to. “I might’ve had a little something.” Then, teasing: “What’s that got to do with this?”  

It’s a yes or no question but there’s no simple answer. At least not as simple as he thinks David would like it to be. He makes everything look easy, reckless and fearless and Jesse envies even the blunt honesty he offers now, simply stating facts. He wants to see him. Despite his every intention, Jesse’s tempted to simply say yes in return.

He just doesn’t believe for a second that it matters what he wants. He’s a pawn in some divine game, just waiting to get sacrificed or knocked off the board. Wanting anything for himself feels dangerous and terrifying. There are too many reasons why, either because of how quickly those things can be stripped from him, or how easy he’d be to betray.

In the end he doesn’t say anything. He’d rather keep his silence, but there’s a small snort of amusement when David answers him. A ‘little’ something. On the heels of that laughter the words are pointless.

He doesn’t say anything at all for a minute, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he stares at the threadbare carpet beneath his feet. Somewhere in the background he can hear running water, but it only adds some slight confusion because it doesn’t sound like a bar. Absent the din of voices trying to make themselves heard above him.

“Where are you?” If he ignores all of David’s questions for one of his own, he figures this time he won’t mind.

He really hasn’t been playing fair. Sure, he gets that—he can still hear Jesse’s aggravated defense mechanism ringing through both ears. But what was he supposed to do? To tell him he hasn’t just been dreaming about him, but that after one accidental peak… he doesn’t want to look anywhere else?

It’s a strange kind of selfishness.

But Jesse gives him the second he’s practically pleading for, and all the alcohol that’s supposed to clear up his lens into the future makes him too elated, too dizzy to care about what comes next. He’s too busy with right now, with where they’ll be in a couple minutes, with what he might say. He wants to hear the smile in his voice again.

“Forget a second date. Forget all that shit I said. I’ve been pushing you, tesoro. But it’s crazy. All of this is crazy. You don’t know what you look like.”

Maybe he knows about the gold light that settles behind the crown of his head, about the unnerving brightness that makes David feel like he’s looking at the sun. And maybe that’s why he’s been running. Either way, he doesn’t stop talking. He laughs, shaky and blitzed. “When you’re thinking something through. Crazy kind of pretty.”

David’s head swims. “But I haven’t been honest enough to help you figure it all out. I’m sorry. I wanna… mm, it wasn’t a dream. Not exactly.”

The fact was, Jesse hadn’t expected to see or hear from him again. That was how it went with anyone who tried to get to close to them. He froze them out. That was usually the end of it. Only now that he’s answered he can’t convince himself to hang up the phone, an earnest intensity in David’s voice that has him waiting with baited breath that he’ll give him a reason not to. Even if he’s left struggling to try and make sense of any of it.

His heart stutters just as uncertainly; regardless of his confusion it still sounds like one of the more romantic things he’s ever heard directed his way. You don’t know what you look like gets stuck in his head, too much reverence in those words not to get hung up on it. It feels almost unfair, because he’s been trying to shut him out. It was easier when he was sneering at him from the bar stool next to him.

Right now the differences are solid and unmistakable. An apology he doesn’t expect, but it softens his resolve to keep him at arm’s length. Half grateful that David can’t see the way his expression follows. Fingers scrub over his scalp, drag over the short shorn hair before he sits forward, as if he has to brace himself for any of this.

“I’m not sure what you’re telling me.”

It’s just… he’s spent all of tonight cycling through long swigs of old liquor, and none of his options are making all that much sense. Everything he’s seen comes up blank or inexplicable. Jesse is made up of all these answers he can’t find on his own, and it isolates David with a fact he’s yet to face.

He’s alone.

That’s never really bothered him before. And now that it does, the whole drunken stupor thing takes earnest to a whole new level. He’s not quite slurring words yet, but he’s drunk off his ass and a hundred percent considering taking a trip to the latter they scaled when they watched the sun rise. 

Before he can rethink this or talk some sense into himself, David’s pressing the stupid green button on his phone and listening to the dial tone. 

He clears his throat when it stops. “Hey—hey—you there? Don’t hang up, sweetheart. I wanna tell you something. No bullshitting, this time. Promise I can take no for an answer. Just saw something that might make you think a little different.” 

Sleep is rarely Jesse’s friend; tonight is no exception. The dull hum of the television doesn’t offer much company or comfort, only half aware of what’s playing across the screen. Eventually it might lull him into something resembling rest, even if it’s only a few hours spent kicked back on a well-worn couch.

He glances down when his phone starts to buzz. He expects it to be a telemarketer. He doesn’t expect David’s name to light up on the screen.

Immediately there’s pressure on his chest, the quickening of his heart and dryness of his mouth like some Pavlovian response just to his name. He doesn’t want it, he wants to tell himself he doesn’t matter and go on with his life. Logic swears he should just let it ring. He should hit that red stop button and prove that sometimes David doesn’t have a choice but to take no for an answer.

If he waits much longer it’ll go straight to voicemail anyway. His hand’s moving before he fully thinks it out, thumb pressing the button before he presses it to his ear. “Hello?”

David’s answer comes quick, and he hadn’t known what he was expecting until he’s greeted with something like sincerity. The absence of a bitterness he might’ve been braced for, and it just leaves him quiet for a moment. Torn between simply hanging up like he thinks he should, and that quieter curiosity why David’s calling him now.