nuits de bayou

aged considerably. he has pretty deep lines, rough skin, more grey than he knows how to deal with

covered his chest and arms in uneven, oddly spaced, almost random tattoos, colouring his skin with whims and loose thoughts

developed a near pathological aversion to saying anything that could come across as a demand instead of a question. requests are out of the equation too. has to be a fully fledged question

managed to comfortably integrate his alcoholism into his daily life so that he doesn’t actually look like an alcoholic; he’s never sloppy and always has an excuse

become a purveyor of thrift stores; he goes in and out, swapping out his old clothes and getting new ones from thrift stores. it’s cheap and it keeps his wardrobe light, since he still lives out of his car

felt like a vampire or demon about to burst into flames every time he goes near churches or anything even closely resembling hallowed ground

   “If any place that isn’t yours is mine, sounds like the world is my oyster.” Their waist scoots into his arm and they laugh, light and breathy. Hard to decide would it do them bad or good to fall in love with a man who could give them the world. They cant their head around towards Jesse’s chest, one hand slipped around his wrist to carry his arm over their front like a bandolier. His beard prickles at their crown. They gaze out at the room without focus, blank eyes, fully geared to picture Jesse behind them. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you just wanted me all to yourself.” Only they know better. They know he’s had them a while now. Their head drops back under his chin. “What’s self-catering? Does that mean we get food or we have to make our own?”

          “ guess it does. ”  jesse hums. he hadn’t thought of it like that. kennedy makes the world seem a lot wider, more open, more appealing. for a moment there’s boundless optimistic potential, for it and them, and he likes it a lot.

MUSE :

name :   jesse aguilar capelló   /    nickname :  is ‘pawpaw’ a nickname its what his kids will call him. padre    / zodiac sign :  i don’t know his birthday i’m a fake dad    /  gender :   cis boi  /  favorite color:  he doesn’t think too much about it? probably orange  /    average hours of sleep :  4-5 hours at a time unless hes at kennedys in which case hes gonna crash until they kick him out /   last thing you googled : gay bars in new york   /  height:   5′8″ .

MUN :

   “Look.”

They lean their cheek into his touch and shut an eye against the rough and tumble curls that risk poking them. For a moment the two of them practically mirror each other, Jesse scratching at his jaw, Kennedy rubbing at pinprick itches leftover on theirs. With Jesse next to them, they fold in further, leaning on one leg as if planning to retreat into him and disappear completely out of the room.

Bull in a china shop sounds unlike them but so does trespassing. They deflate against his arm and loll their head back on Jesse’s shoulder, gazing at him backwards. “Is anybody else coming?”