Psyche

Jean calls him Saturday afternoon while Jamie is still in bed, who can’t be bothered to get out of it. Though Jamie’s head is loaded with rocks and his body is a boneless blob, he answers his phone almost too cheerfully. Jamie guesses he understands now how people feel, waking up to the voice of someone they like deeply. He almost wants to smile foolishly and play sunny, happy music while reading disgustingly sweet love poetry.

(Almost. Because he refuses to turn into those lovesick people from those sickly romantic teen movies. He won’t allow it. Alexandria won’t allow it.)

Jamie buries his head into his pillow and presses the phone close to his ear.

“How are you still asleep?”Jean chuckles, before talking about other nonsense musings when he breathes this happy sigh.

“What is it?” Jamie asks.

“Just thinking about the band getting signed again. It’s really gonna happen. We still have a few things to work out and stuff, but. . .” he trails off and Jamie can almost picture him with this dazed look, eyes clouded over and staring at nothing, like he’s high.

“But what?”

“Nothing. It’s kind of funny. Now that it seems like a real possibility, it seems too close to be true. Like if I mess this up it’ll mess up everything else. Does that make sense?”

“I guess so.”

“You have such a way with words,” Jean laughs and Jamie almost falls out of bed, flipping over and groaning at the ceiling. Jamie wants him here, with him. Wants Jean to kiss him again.

No, not here. Never here. They can be together, just not here. Jean must sense what

Jamie’s feeling, because he says, “Would your aunt mind if you hung out with me for awhile? I don’t have work today.”

“You make it sound like she never lets me out.”

“Past experiences have taught me some parents are peculiar about who their kid hangs out with and for how long.”

“Girlie won’t care. It’s only you. She likes you,” Jamie explains.

“Really? Seriously?”

“Not like that.”

“What if I was in love with Girlie and we started dating. How much would you hate me?”

“Do it and you’ll find out.”

“Does she count as a MILF? ‘Cause AILF sounds too awkward . . .”

“I’m hanging up.”

Before Jamie ends the call, Jean spits out he’ll come get him around three. It takes a few minutes to erase the thought of Girlie and Jean together before Jamie can get out of bed. He walks out into the hall and sees Girlie in the bathroom, rummaging through the medicine cabinet for something. He tells her he’s going with Jean later, and she glances at him in confusion briefly before smiling and saying, “Okay. When will you be back?”

“I’m not sure,” he says.

“Don’t be out too late. And call me when you’re on your way home.” She leaves the bathroom, still smiling thoughtfully, like she’s so glad he isn’t a lonely, antisocial fool anymore.

While taking a shower, the only thing he can think of, besides seeing Jean, is that Girlie must be so proud. He’s improved so much. He’s like the normal, happy kids who have no problems.

She must be right.

*******

“Is your mom home?” is the first thing Jamie asks as they enter Jean’s home. But soon after the question is asked, Jean kisses his cheek. Jamie has a feeling he wouldn’t have done that if Celeste was there.

“Nah, she’s out shopping,” Jean answers. “You want something to drink? My mom bought some ‘fancy tea’, as she likes to call it.”

Jamie shakes his head no and follows him upstairs to his bedroom. It’s in the same condition as last time, and again Jean pushes random stuff into corners to make it more presentable.

“Does your mom know?” The question shoots straight out of Jamie and Jean stops and glances at him, confused.

“Know what? That you’re here?”

Jamie grabs the hem of his shirt and starts digging the heels of his shoes into the floor. He shouldn’t have asked. “No, I mean like, does she know you’re . . . “

“If you’re asking if she knows I’m bi, then no. At least, as far as I know she doesn’t.” Jean looks pass Jamie like Celeste is standing behind him, hearing everything he’s saying, and his lips turn into a solemn frown. He brushes his hair back in a panicky matter, turning away and grumbling something angrily under his breath.

“Sorry,” Jamie says rashly. “I just –“

“Sorry for what? Sit down. You always look like you’re about to pass out.”

Jamie stares at him, waiting for him to say more about Celeste or for the pale expression he wears to vanish. Neither happens, and so Jamie lies down on the bed on his back, breathing unevenly. Jean does the same and turns his head so his mouth just barely touches Jamie’s head.

“I like your skin.” Jean pokes at his ribs, laughing when Jamie squirms, but then frowning once more. “Are you losing weight?”

“Wow, you know when just to say the right things.” Jamie twists and his mouth is a second away from being on Jean’s. “It’s from when I was sick. I couldn’t eat much.”

He knows Jean probably believes he’s lying – he’s usually a better liar– but Jean doesn’t say it. He only looks, before closing his eyes and muttering, “I worry about you sometimes.”
Jamie’s hands twist his fingers together, and he feel justified when he says, “You don’t have to.”

******

It’s different with Jean.

Jean randomly pulls up his shirt, and Jamie studies a long brown scar coming down from Jean’s bellybutton. Jean pokes shamelessly at it, laughing about how his brother chased him with a pair of scissors one day. (“This was last year. Not when we’re little kids.”) Even though the mood is so carefree and relaxed, there’s a tiny urge in Jamie to turn away, keep his face buried in the pillow so he won’t see, hear, or smell anything.

Then he remembers: It’s okay to be this close. This is Jean.

No one else.

(Not Him.)

Jamie lays his ear on Jean's chest, and the repetitive beating he hears causes his ears to numb. Jean touches the skin underneath Jamie’s shirt, but they never stray far. Jamie doesn’t tell him to and Jean never asks. Jamie’s happy enough to be this close to him, to be able to close his eyes, and know he’ll still be fine when he wakes again.

*******

Jamie’s up before Jean, and instead of instead getting up or waking him up, Jamie stays where he is and admires him. Jean’s mouth is slightly opened, and the outline of it is a deep pink, almost bright red. For once Jean looks his age, perhaps a tad younger. He's resting like nothing will hurt him, can bother him. There’ve probably been other people who have seen Jean like this, and Jamie wonders if they’ve felt the way he’s feeling now: a deep peace inside his soul. The knowledge that everything outside this place is okay and wonderful. He wonders if he’ll always get to see Jean like this.

Jamie starts to question whether or not he truly believes in forever. Like if he believes he and Alexandria will be friends forever. If he will be with Jean forever. If Girlie and Zack will be together forever. If Jamie will be okay forever.

Forever is a long, long time.

He doesn’t want to think about it.

He thinks instead of how he's glad he secretly stopped taking his medications. It means he can feel this and not have other things affecting him. Nothing terrible has happened from his actions, not anything he considers extreme, at least. He can handle anything.

Jean moves beside him and rubs his eyes. He peers lazily at Jamie and drones out, "Is it sad I don't remember falling asleep? What are you doing?"

"Nothing." Jamie lays his head on his hands and sighs. Jean continues to gaze at him, twisting his mouth and eyebrows lifting in a curious matter.

”What do you think my mom would do if she caught us like this?” Jean asks in a offhanded tone.

"'Oh, that's nice?'"

“Seriously.”

“Well, I don’t know. Does she not like gays or something?”

“No. I don’t know. But I’m her son, so it’s different.” It’s said in a way like he’s been thinking about telling her, yet he can’t be bothered to. Then he kisses Jamie too hard, too anxiously, and Jamie knows there are many things Jean wants to tell Celeste, but he dreads it.

“Forget it,” Jean says. “Don’t worry about it.”