ɪ 𝐻𝐴𝑉𝐸 𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑫 . . .

JESSE SITS THERE IN SILENCE AS RYAN TALKS, SOAKING IN EACH WORD. inherently, he knows that she is completely correct: he should be actively be doing this for himself, at the end of the day. the music, the artㅤㅤ ━━ ㅤㅤit was all for his own relief to release something, to lift that ever-present pressure at the base of his brain. he smiles a little bit, ducking his head slightly, finally dragging his gaze away from ryan’s face when he realizes that he’d been telling himself this the whole time.  “ it’s funny, ” he starts. “ it’s. . . it’s like, everyone’s been demanding something out of me for so long. it’s always when do we get new music and shit like that. ” he shifts on the swing again, this time placing his feet firmly on the mat beneath. “ and i’m so scared that those people are the same ones that are gonna be shitting on whatever we release. but i gotta stop giving a fuck, right? that’s what we started the band for in the first place. ” when he looks over at ryan again, his face is earnest, there’s some sort of hope etched in his features. “ it’s still so hard for me to make it look easy, ” he says, quoting himself, the new song locked away under lock & key. he never started the band because his parents made music or because he wanted people to like him, and yet now he walked around with this ever-present weight to be a particular sort of person, and with that, he’d shied away from the one thing that truly made him feel like a real person. “ i so desperately want them all to like it, ” he admitted, his voice dropping softly. “ and i don’t know if i can curb that part of me, after all this time. ”

DENVER DOES NOT REACT TO HIM. maybe a twitch of a muscle, but maybe jax is making that up in his head, his gaze boring into his best friend’s skull. he was just as soaked in the sweat of the show as jax was, curling across the arch of his brow, hugging it tight, dragging along the length of his nose.  they both know there is no stopping jax when he’s like thisㅤㅤ ━━ ㅤㅤa literal unstoppable force crashing into an immovable object.   fingers press into his jaw, holding him there like he was about to jerk out of his grip. ( ㅤㅤwhich was actually an incredibly valid thing, considering the fact that he’s already pulling his jaw, trying to yank out of denver's grip, ready to run his mouth again. ㅤㅤ) there’s a swirl of energy in jax’s chest – he is not certain if this is the drugs still whirling or the way that adrenaline had him heaving breaths in that post-show high.  “ maybe i’ll be done when you fuckin’ answer me, ” jax spits after her gives up on the struggle, his jaw pushing up and palms moving, trying to shove against denver’s chest before curling, pulling the other man closer by the collar.

IT IS APPARENT THAT CILLIAN IS DIGGING, AND FOR GOOD REASON. star shudders to think what he thinks of her now — isn’t that what she’s so afraid of in the first place? of how people perceive her? look at her? judge her? was it inherently her fault that she was born into this particular cycle? she could feel the anger and embarrassment building up at the base of her chest. she had so badly wanted to impress cillian, and somehow, here she was, on the verge of sobbing into her palms.  star doesn’t realize that he’s moving, crouching in front of her as if she was a kicked dog, cowering in the corner. she’s too bundled up [ 𝑺𝑶 𝑺𝑼𝑫𝑫𝑬𝑵𝑳𝒀 ] in the wave of emotions that she doesn’t even register the shift of his weight in the air around her until he speaks again.  𝙲𝙻𝙾𝚂𝙴𝚁.ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤhe’s so much 𝙲𝙻𝙾𝚂𝙴𝚁.  slowly, star lifts her head. mascara smudged slightly, dark eyes rimmed with the red evidence of tears. [ 𝙸 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙳𝙸𝙴. 𝙸𝙼𝙼𝙴𝙳𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙻𝚈. ] she lived in such extremes, convinced that she feels every human emotion every day and all at once. she hated it, and cillian didn’t really need to experience this side of her. she was STAR MODI, after all. so-called party girl god.  the back of her hand presses to an eye, smudging eyeliner from the corner of her eye to her temple.  she’s prepared for something else entirely, and maybe the gentleness is what breaks her in the end:ㅤㅤno one has truly treated her like she really was fragile, mostly just volatile.ㅤㅤshe felt dizzy, as she sat there, wondering how someone could really just see her, in all of her mess, and get down on her level, in simple calm, and not treat her like some creature that would lash out at the first chance she got, all gnashed teeth and claws.  her head shakes, slowly, afraid that she wouldn’t be able to really hold it together yet if she opened her mouth.  “ i don’t know if i’m cut out for this, ” star finally manages. her gaze had dropped from his face to somewhere on cillian’s shoulder, unable to keep hold his eye contact, as if saying anything while he was staring into her soul would make her implode, right on the spot. “ like. . . i belong in the background. ” maybe all of this sounded insufferable and stupid to cillian: he was a real artist, after all.  she had just taken the name she was given and ran with it, falling every step of the way and ending up with bloody knees every time. 

SHE HESITATED FOR A MOMENT, AND IN THOSE SHORT, BRIEF MOMENTS, JESSE FROZE UP. but ryan took the jacket, and he was distracted. their fingers lingered together, sharing heat for just a moment, and his heart stuttered in his chest, rattling against his sternum as if it, too, forgot how to exist in that moment.  the spell was broken as soon as it started, and ryan pulled the fabric over her head with a soft thanks. jesse leans back in the swing, holding onto the chains as if they were keeping him some sort of grounded. to his left, ryan is moving, settling into the swing and shifting beside him. jesse lifts his own soles off of the mat, delicately swaying softly, as if it was some sort of distraction — as if he really needed a distraction.  IN REALITY — jesse could spend all day in ryan’s presence. responsibilities be damned, he just wanted to listen to her voice all day. the thought alone could send him down a rabbit hole, down some sort of daydream unreality where he wasn’t just some guy who happened to know ryan: it was one where he was worth it.  “ oh. . . ” jesse laughs softly, a little huff of breath pushing past his lips, shooting a sidelong glance at ryan. he wouldn’t say it to anyone else, or maybe it was just the cloak of night making him feel safe. “ feels weird, ” jesse admits, tilting his head slightly, this time moving to tuck his hair behind his ear as he watches her. “ like, mostly, um, like. . . i miss that college kid who acted like he knew what he was doing, you know? ” he pauses, fingers moving along the chain as if they were looking for something to fiddle with. “ now i’m like, worried that i still got it. whatever the fuck it is, i guess. ” jesse’s eyes slip shut for a moment, expression crinkling upwards. “ i guess that’s stupid, or whatever. ”

send me a ➹ and a fc ;; i'll create a character on the spot !!!

SHE CAN’T READ HIM.  it is frustrating, to say the least, but that is the least of her worries, for now:  even with the way that she could simply fall into staring at his face.  that was the absolute least of her worries right now.  it had to be, right?  they were here, in the middle of this mess.  they were writing an album.  it didn’t have to be perfect.  it could be just like this mess, right in front of them.   but what wasn’t a mess around her?   even his reaction, calm noises, movements, elbows pressing to his knees, set some sort of reaction off.  star’s chest tightened, she took a sharp breath inward, knuckles absently moved to fist, digging nails into her palm. there’s a moment where she thinks her lip shakes, and she immediately lifts her hand to her mouth, trying to cover the concept of a shake with the illusion that she was taking another drag of her cigarette.  even as he continues, it doesn’t ease that spike of anxiety that was pulling at her.  it’s not done yet.  𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐭.  star wanted to throw up.  why was it never done?   she can feel her knees weaken beneath her.  is it the exhaustion, or maybe it’s the fear that she can’t do this?   star is only half–listening to cillian.  a mistake for sure, and she almost misses the fact that he’s not only giving her the best advice anyone in the industry had ever given her.  most people shied away from being that honest with her. somehow, she finds herself sitting in a clear place on the floor, knees drawing up to her chest.  she stares at him, pulling at the cigarette again, fiddling with the filter for a few moments.  why was her mind suddenly blank?  she sits a few moments in silence, trying to gather anything that she thought could bring some semblance of… impressing cillian.  which wasn’t even the point, but she felt put on the spot – [ 𝐺𝑂𝐷, 𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑌 𝑊𝐸𝑅𝐸 𝑊𝑅𝐼𝑇𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐴𝑁 𝐴𝐿𝐵𝑈𝑀 𝐹𝑂𝑅 𝐶𝐻𝑅𝐼𝑆𝑇’𝑆 𝑆𝐴𝐾𝐸.ᐟ ] “i feel like. . . i fucking want to be me, like. . . the past version of myself again,”  star finds herself saying, almost surprising herself.  “existing as a fucking human at the end of the day is embarrassing enough.  and yet i’m here. . . wanting to be in the spotlight, or whatever.  i think i’m deserving of that for what?”  [ 𝑊𝐻𝑌 𝐼𝑆 𝑌𝑂𝑈𝑅 𝑉𝑂𝐼𝐶𝐸 𝑆𝐻𝐴𝐾𝐼𝑁𝐺.ᐣ ]  “i can’t go to a party without like, thinking about the way i’m perceived, i —.”  star cuts herself off, sinking into herself, shoulders rolling forward.  maybe she really wasn’t cut out for this.