JUST KEEP FOLLOWING THE HEARTLINES ON YOUR HAND.

          “oh god,” muttering, not this shit again. jesse’s already turning his head away from the older girl, annoyance etching boyishly handsome features. expressions hidden behind dark aviators. he already knows where this conversation is heading the moment he hears the tone of her voice. he’s listening...annoyed as hell. but still, he’s listening. that is, all until he hears the talk about being famous part in her rambling. “oh. so that’s what this is about? not about me putting labels on it or anything. this is about you bein’ famous. y’think i only like being with you cause it’s ‘COOL’ being with someone famous?” scoffing, he’s jumping to conclusions. “duh. fucking duh you have it all wrong.” he genuinely likes her. A LOT. and she thinks it has to do with her fame..? “i couldn’t give a shit less about that.” grumbling, hands clenching his black camaro’s steering wheel while it idles in a parking lot. if his singing and guitar playing career was going anywhere besides local clubs-- if were a famous musician already, he sure as hell wouldn’t want someone using him for that. and yeah, he can be a jerk form time to time, but he wouldn’t use anyone. and he sure as hell wouldn’t been spending all this time, stupidly head over heels for this woman if he didn’t extremely care for her like he does. no wonder it’s angering him, considering things feel extremely rocky. he’s never allowed himself to get attached to anyone and right now, since she seems to be treating him like the younger kid he is, he feels like he’s about to be royally fucked getting involved with her.

          dan and shay? is that it, he wonders. “i don’t wanna get with the times. i like it where i’m stuck. the era when music was great and full of melodies that’s like multiple orgasms in my ears.” 1985 to 1989. best years that have ever existed, anyone who lived it was one lucky asshole in his opinion. “like, really. what the fuck is this shit they’re claiming as rock these days. what is it-- c o l d - play? coldplay or somethin’. coldplay, my ASS. coldplay makes me feel like i’m being fucked over.” definitely no eargasms coming from that shit. probably talking mostly to himself at this point, it’s fun to rant even if hope isn’t on his music level and it’s unlikely she has any idea what he’s on about. it and the cigarette combined ease some of the pent up moodiness he’s been regulating through, he finds. “shit. even the names of their bands these days are lame as hell.” scorpions, motley crue, guns n’ roses. now, that’s cool as fuck. why can’t these modern dickwads get back on these dudes level? truly-- he must’ve died during this era and reincarnated or something, he’s this passionate about it. “old people are into frank sinatra and shit-- not classic rock.” which makes it still young in his opinion. “i rolled the window down, didn’t i?” scoffing, turning his head to blow the smoke out the window for the princess. “i’m doing my job right, then.” smiling when she says it’s too loud, that’s what he likes to hear. he won’t swat her hand this time, only because she isn’t turning it down all the way.

          “dan who?” jesse doesn’t even recognize these artists, his head really never leaves any music past 1993. “oh, yeah? well, props to DAD. your dad has great taste. we know when we hear real instruments, lyrics that make sense and no auto fuckin’ tune.” digging into his console, he finds his lighter and pack of marlboro’s. just what he wanted. plucking one of the nicotine sticks from the box, jesse wedges it between two fingers and lets it sit between pearly white teeth so he can flick the lighter and light it up. throwing both items back into the console, he lets it shut back on it’s own and rolls his window down. he’s not a total animal after all, he won’t engulf her in cigarette smoke. although, just for that comment, he lets his seat back up so he can reach the radio knobs and turn the music wide open. even better now. 

         it’s intriguing to hear hope’s response, all the while endearing. he’s transfixed on the girl behind his sunglasses, forgetting that he’s frozen. realizing he might just be the grinch with his heart growing three sizes at the mere words: important to me. it pulls at his heartstrings and shit, something he was always taught was a bad thing. having feelings. it was beat, and not metaphorically but realistically, into his head, to not feel and toss away anyone who feels for him by his monster for a father. like he’s supposed to be some sort of robot, with no human heart planted into his chest and with no real feelings like a real human. then there’s this girl messing it all up. or IS she messing it up? maybe.. maybe she’s FIXING him. jesse’s glad she breaks him out of his daze with her contagious laughter, he’s mentally kicking himself for getting so trapped into his head. “i could make money at it? in that case...i’ll admit it, then.” that he indeeds broods so often, it’s probably damaging his health. “oh, we can agree that we ain’t listening to stupid ass country.” he was born in memphis, he’d think country would be coursing through his veins. yet, he hates it. rock music is his wife, but it has to be the classics. “you have no education in music, this is why i work at a record store. how about there is a choice and it’s called the classic rock station.” leaning back up, he swats her hand away and changes it to his one and only favorite station. it’s satisfying to change from whiny pop music to sexy whining guitars. what a perfect song to land on, too. rock you like a hurricane by the scorpions is currently playing. “look at that. my fucking ears aren’t bleeding any longer.” managing to quip, resting back against his seat with a pleased smile adorning his features.

         that’s true, they’re both full of flaws and issues. so upon combining them both together, it can either create a massive storm between them like it often does or bring each other comfort like it also does the other part of the time. “and you’re dependent on me, why?” maybe he’ll always question why she’s decided to grow so attached to him. he can’t possibly accept the fact that he isn’t unlovable. in fact, he’s really sweet and cares wholeheartedly on his good days. “i’m not brooding.” grumbling, of course he is. his career is brooding. glancing over, she looks like a toddler. and deep down he’s agitated she moved her hand away from his, it only encourages his sour mood. not like he wanted her to hold it anyway. “silence is good.” reaching down, jesse lets his seat back so he can recline on purpose. if she wants to turn the radio on she’s allowed to, but then again... he doesn’t trust what she’ll turn on. “you’ll probably turn it on some bubblegum pop shit anyway.” he can’t be sure on what she likes, so he’s assuming. 

        feeling his body tense the second jesse feels her hand lay on his skin. it’s gentle, he knows. but his instincts can’t help but automatically think every touch is a negative reaction, from years of getting treated like a rag doll. it takes a moment for his brain to register it isn’t a bad kind of touch, it doesn’t mean someone is trying to hurt him. oceanic eyes stick to his steering wheel in an intense daze, he can’t look. he’s scared. “i feel like it’s always my fault, though.” deep voice mumbles, he’s always destructing himself or someone else. he hates it. wanting to turn his hand and cling to hers, but he refrains. because he’s scared yet again. “fine.” she can stay, but it’s on her.

    “yeah-- but you especially.” all along, she’s seemed too good for some broken person like him. at one point, he’s even tried to intentionally be an asshole to make her hate him so she wouldn’t get involved with him. why she keeps lingering around? it’s beyond his knowledge. “what if i don’t care? steal my sunglasses back and kick you out anyway.” brows perk, turning his gaze to her when he feels like he can hold back some of the emotion in his eyes now.

     “or maybe you’re blinded.” or maybe she’s desperate for affection too, just as he is and she’d rather keep a moody asshole like him around than be entirely alone. he won’t say what he’s thinking just so he doesn’t make himself look weak. listening to her next words, he weirdly hates her trying to make him see he’s better than what he feels when he’s having an episode of mood swings. because it’s true, he would’ve blamed her and started the shit all over again if he were a piece of shit. but he didn’t. “you’re gonna be late for school.” something he acts like he isn’t apart of too, but he couldn’t care less about it right now.

        if you’re a piece of shit, i’m a fly. it usually never fails to make him smile again. it’s funny AND yeah, he admits, adorable, that she always replies to him like that. the difference is the fact he’s too deep into his self-hatred to shake the episode he’s having. “which still confuses me.” how does she do it? keep putting up with him? sighing in annoyance when she removes his sunglasses, he’s turning his head towards the window. away from her direction. lifting a hand, his long fingers brush his curls from his face itching him. “you’re ditchin’, huh?” husky tone inquires in genuine curiosity, being from memphis there’s a light country twang in the way some of his words come out in his voice. of course he’s a bad influence on her too, great. but since she insists-- jesse leans back up, turns the ignition and engine purrs. oceanic eyes with a swirl of impulsive piercing green inside them stare out the windshield in thought, trying to decide if he should kick her out and make her go to school or just start driving. who knows. he can be capable of both. 

          he was fine, just a moment ago. they were patching things up from a fight and his mind did a switch. the light has drained from his eyes, feeling like he doesn’t deserve love. in fact, he feels like he’s not even sure how to love. head thrown back against his bmw’s leather seat, his moodiness takes a toll. he can’t even face the school day now, not when he feels like this. hard to imagine how she must feel, dealing with a burden like him. swallowing, jesse shoves his aviators onto his face. covering his eyes. his eyes-- they’ll always give him away.  that’s why they have to be hidden. “like i told you long time ago-- you shouldn’t have gotten involved with a piece of shit like me.” he’s sorry he can’t be better. there’s a war constantly in his mind, one he doesn’t know how to battle so he has no choice but to let it do as it wants.