Status: Completed

Psyche

3

Jean parks the car in front of Jamie’s house, seeing another car already occupying the driveway.

“Is that your aunt?” he asks. When he receives no response he prods again. “Hey, Jamie?”

Jean can’t tell if Jamie is scared or if he’s still sick, because his face portrays both, his mouth scrunched into a tight line and cheeks pale. Jamie keeps pushing back into the seat, like he’s hoping it’ll swallow him.

“No, that’s her boyfriend’s,” he coughs, the word boyfriend sounding too strange to almost say outloud.

“. . . ’kay?”

Jamie has his hand on the handle, though he looks so reluctant to get out and leave that Jean has to ask again.

“You cool?”

“Yeah. It’s fine, just –“ Jamie stops, tries to makes his breathing sound steady and not rattling. “Never mind. Thanks and stuff, I –“

“If you’re not ready to go home,” Jean speaks loudly before Jamie can open the door, “you can hang with me till your aunt gets home or whenever. I don’t have anything to do today. I’m not about to go back to school.”

Jean pushes the offer further when Jamie looks uncertain, like saying yes would be asking too much.

“Seriously, you can come over to my house and we’ll find something to do.” He only gives Jamie a few more seconds to think it over before he pulls the car out of park and into drive.

“It’s settled then.” Jean grins, and though Jamie is beginning to relax he still looks deader than a ghost.

*******

Dawn Avenue was practically built for folks of high wealth, though the people living there were mostly middle class. The only litter the streets have are dirt and little pebbles. People could actually leave their curtains wide open and doors unlocked. There are no shanty-looking houses or big dogs that bark at everything. The lawns are always mowed. Even the trees look better than in any other neighborhood Jamie’s been in (including his own).

Jean would live in a place like this.

“My mom’s home,” Jean explains. “Don’t freak out if she starts speaking really fast French and looking like at you like you’re an intruder. Once I tell her who you are and stuff she’ll pretty much adopt you right then.”

“Adopt me?” cries Jamie. And get to live with Jean? That would be too good. Too much of a miracle.

Jean grins with white and slightly crooked teeth. “Figuratively speaking, of course. And I hope you like dogs, ‘cause we have one.”

Jean’s home is a two-story, Victorian house painted pale maroon with gold lining. It seems to tower over the other homes with their modest designs. But when Jean unlocks the door and they go in, it’s not nearly as huge inside as it looks outside.

They stand in the living room with all its old black and white and sepia-colored photographs hanging on walls, lying on tables. Jamie spies one colored framed photo on the coffee table: a four or five-year-old Jean sitting between two older kids.

“That’s my sister and brother -- Alya and Iman,” Jean tells him, picking up the photo. “My sister’s still that hairy.”

“I didn’t know you had siblings,” Jamie says, admiring the simplicity and happiness of the photo. Alya’s eyes seem to take up her whole face she smiles, holding on tight to Jean and Iman. Iman sits aloof, arms crossed stiffly. Jean’s hair is mussed and he looks about as cheerful as a child can be at that age. Jamie can vaguely remember being that blissful when he was younger.

Jean sets the photo down and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “She lives in Michigan now, with my niece -- she just turned six and she’s so adorable. I love that girl. Iman, he . . . well, he’s always traveling like a hobo. I talked to him a week ago and he’s in San Diego staying with his ‘Girlfriend of the Month’ –“

Jean?” Both boys look up as a round woman appears at the top of the stairs. Her mass of dark brown curls bounce around her as she trots down with a hamper of dirty clothes. She looks straight at Jamie and for a moment Jamie thinks he’s at looking at Jean’s eyes. They both have droopy, brown eyes with gold flecks floating within.

Just as Jean said, she starts speaking rushed French that sounds muddled, and Jean does as well, every so often waving his hand toward Jamie.

After what seems like five minutes and what sounds like Jean’s mother scolding then praising her son, she walks up to Jamie, puts down the hamper and holds out her hand. The way she says hello feels like sticky, warm honey in his mouth and he can’t help but return her smile, shaking her hand.

“I'm Celeste,” she says. “Jamie? How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you?”

“Great, great.” She smiles one last time before asking, “Jean says you were sick? You want anything to drink? Eat?”

“Ah, no, I’m fine now. Thank you.”

She lets go of his hand and she mumbles something else to Jean before picking the hamper back up and head toward the kitchen. She disappears down some stairs, to the basement, Jamie guesses.

“She said if you need anything, just tell her,” Jean says, walking upstairs and motioning for Jamie to follow. “She also said you’re adorable.”

Jamie scoffs at it before thinking, besides Alexandria, Celeste’s probably the only other person who’s ever told Jamie he was appealing in some way. Even if they are the words adorable or cute.

"At least she didn't pat your cheeks and tell you to stand up straighter like she does everyone else," Jean says as he opens his bedroom door.

Jamie’s not surprised Jean’s room isn’t clean; though it’s not in a way where there’s food and dust everywhere. There are notebook papers lying around with illegible words written on them. Sticky-notes with words covering every bare space. Band posters line the walls and the amount of different colored plaid shirts oozing out of Jean’s closet is ridiculous.

“Uh.” Jean grabs the sheet on his bed, gathers up the books and papers on it, and tosses them into an unclaimed corner. “There. Have a seat.”

Jamie does so and immediately sees a dark purple bass resting in one corner of the room. It has a Green Lantern sticker on it. “How’s your band going?” Jamie asks.

Jean pushes more paper into one corner, so they have room to walk around, before collapsing on the bed causing Jamie to bounce up. Jean lays on his back, hip and elbow almost touching Jamie. Jean’s shirt has ridden up, a strip of olive skin exposed. Jamie’s eyes linger there for a second before he looks at Jean’s face.

“Fairly awesome. You listen to us?” Jean asks. Jamie tells him he does, a little. “Yeah, almost everyone at school does. They either like us or hate us.”

“Your band’s cool. I like your music.” Jean has his arms behind his head, looking up at Jamie in a quizzical way that bewilders him. Jamie can’t decide if it’s uncomfortable or makes him feel important. Like Jean’s actually looking at Jamie and not just another kid who likes to have a vomitfest occasionally.

Jean starts shifting, brushes against him. Jamie keeps his body still and solid. “Really? How come you’ve never come to one of our shows?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never gotten a chance.”

“You should, and then I can tell everyone you’re my biggest fan.”

“Yours?” Jamie’s bangs fall into his eyes, but Jean can tell that the smile on his mouth reaches his eyes.

Jean grins sheepishly, chuckling. “Eh, Artemis Phantom’s biggest fan, you know what I mean.”

And that’s all they do. They sit and talk, Jamie stumbles over answers, and every time Jean moves he brushes against Jamie’s hip and Jamie stays sharply still when it happens. Jean lets Jamie read a few of the band’s new songs he and Ellisha have written. He even bothers to show Jamie how to play a few chords on his bass and the crappy acoustic guitar. Jean learns Jamie’s fingers are much too soft for the bass’s strings. Jamie learns that Jean and his family used to live in Lebanon and France for a short while before they finally landed in the US. Jean’s dad died when he was four from pneumonia, and since then Jean has felt he’s never had a dad. His memories of the man have disappeared over time, and Jean can’t feel anything for him by looking at pictures, old videos, and hearing stories. When he does they often feel fake.

Jean is beginning to appear like the real person Jamie likes, and not some far away crush he doesn’t truly know.

Afterwards they go downstairs where Celeste’s made lunch (actual lunch at two and not at ten like at school). It’s simple rice home-cooked chicken sliced on top and different sides, but it’s the best thing Jamie’s ever tasted. Though, the brownies Celeste baked aren’t nearly as good as Girlie’s.

When they’re finished Jamie goes with Jean to take Bria, the family’s beagle dog, out for a walk. He and Jean don’t talk much this time. For now the silence is inviting and comforting.

They walk side by side, and sometimes Jamie will have to get behind Jean to let a parent and their child in a stroller get by. Sometimes Jamie ends bumping into Jean trying to get out of the way, and he’ll say he’s sorry and quickly back off. When he does it for the third time Jean stops and faces him. His lips are tight and his shadow towers over Jamie, hostile. Jamie steps back, arms closed to his side, alarm causing his fingers to twitch faintly.

He’s acting like he does when Zack stands before him, his face taunt and glaring at Jamie drunkenly, telling him he should stop being stupid. But Jean isn’t Zack. Jamie should never get them confused with one another. Zack’s somewhere else, not anywhere near them.

Jean runs his fingers through his hair, loose strands falling out. “Are you and Alex d–“

“Alexandria,” Jamie says too quickly, his heart nearly giving out once he realizes Jean looks like that because of something about Alexandria. His brows furrows and he balls his hands
up to stop his fingers from shaking.

“She doesn’t like Alex, Al, or Aly,” Jamie goes on.

“Seriously? Okay, are you and Alexandria dating?”

The unexpectedness of the question causes Jamie to stare dumbly, mouth hang open, and run the question through his head several times before he’s able to answer. “N-no! No, we’re friends. Why?”

“Because she’s all over you. ‘Cause you’ve never hung out with anyone before and all of a sudden you’re with her. Because you’re so comfortable with her, but with me it’s like I’m fucking Mr. Freeze you freeze up so much around me and then she acts like you’re fragile or something. And she hates me.”

Bria barks, tugs at her leash for the boys to come on. Jamie breathes out, has his eyes aimed at the ground as he says, “She doesn’t hate you and I don’t ‘freeze’ up around you. I do that with everyone.”

“Do I make you nervous?”

“No.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Jamie wants to say I do feel nervous, but it’s something else too, but his voice is gone and he wouldn’t have the guts to say otherwise. He’s too hot in his skin, and he thinks he might throw up again. Jean is suddenly standing too close. Jamie still doesn’t look up.

“Jamie?”

“Can we go back?”

“Can you look at me? What’s wrong?”

Jamie looks up too fast and there’s Jean, features softened and expression worried. Jamie should back off but he stays willingly. His heartbeat hurts and he wants to kiss Jean and he wants Jean and his vision is blurring and he can’t breathe and if Jean just stands a little closer –

“Hey! JP!”

Cold air slaps Jamie’s face when Jean steps quickly away and goes around him toward the street. Heavy breaths come out of Jamie’s mouth and his throat aches. He turns around just as a car pulls up with some guy leaning out of the passenger window.

The rugged ginger boy looks at Jamie questioningly, before Jean covers the guy’s vision. Jamie wanders down the sidewalk, and leans against the fence, head hanging low. Bria yips once and nudges his leg affectionately.

The past eight minutes is forgotten when Jean gets done conversing with the guy and the car drives away. Jamie looks at him and can’t find a single trace of earlier. Whatever earlier was. Maybe it was nothing. It was Jamie being stupid as usual and lost in a fantasy.

And even if Jean wasn’t straight and he did like Jamie –

Once the clothes came off he’d never want Jamie again.

You aren’t perfect and once they see that they’ll run.

That’s what Zack said.

There’s a higher chance of Zack being right than wrong.

”I have to go home now,” Jamie heaves, starting towards Jean’s home.

Jean trots confusingly beside him. “Sure. Are you . . . ?"

“I’m just really tired. Sorry.”

“It’s cool. Let’s drop Bria off and then we’ll go.”

Zack’s car isn’t there when they reach Jamie’s house, and Jamie’s chest deflates in relief. Jean doesn’t think much of it. It goes completely over his head.

“My band’s having a show this Friday,” Jean begins before Jamie can exit. “It’s at Galaxies in Blue Springs, and these other bands will be playing too. You should come, and bring Alexandria if you want.”

Jamie doesn’t say anything to Jean’s invite right away, instead choosing to nod.

He hears Jean move beside him. The longer Jamie stays in the car, the more nauseous he feels. He grabs the handle, opens, and has one foot out the door. He doesn’t get a chance to stand before Jean grabs his forearm and keeps him back.

“What?” Jamie snaps, but his abrasiveness falls apart. He sees the expression Jean carried earlier. He sees the gold and green mixed with the brown in Jean’s eyes. He sees himself occupying only a tiny space in there.

“Just take care,” Jean mutters, and lets Jamie go.

Then it’s gone, back to nonexistence. Jamie shuts the door quickly and walks without
looking back.

Jean leaves, a foreboding feeling lurking in the pit of his being that makes him want to throw up too.
♠ ♠ ♠
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Two things:
1) Ee-mahn not . . . I-man. Think Pokémon :3
2) I keep googling Artemis Phantom 'cause I'm afraid eventually I'll find an actual band with that name.

/thatnameismine/