Psyche

It’s the first time Jean has ever been in Jamie’s room. It’s the second time he’s been in his house and but the first time he’s gotten further than the front door. They’re always at Jean’s house or somewhere else; never Jamie’s.

“You can sit down,” Jamie says, pointing to his bed. They sit opposite each other on the edge, a few centimeters of space between their bodies. Jamie has his hands clasped in front of him, looking coolly at nothing. It’s funny. He doesn’t look like he almost died a few days ago.

“I’ll be staying at this juvenile ward for a while,” Jamie says. The bluntness of his statement leaves Jean questioning if he’s heard right.

”Wha . . . for how long?”

“I don’t know. Till they think I’m ready. Till I’m better.” Jean almost expects Jamie to say And there’s no telling when that’ll be, but he doesn’t.

They’re silent afterwards, Jean contemplating on what Jamie just told him and Jamie trying to think of what else he can and should say to Jean.

“Do you still want to know?” he asks finally.

“Know what?”

“About everything. What I did. Why I’m like this.”

“Yes.”

Jean leans over and kisses his cheek, before turning Jamie's head and finding his lips. Jamie sighs, nearly laughing, and pulls Jean closer to him.

Jean pulls back some and leans his head against Jamie's shoulder. “Tell me as much as you want. That’s all I ask,” he says.

Jamie breathes in deeply and when he talks, Jean can barely hear him. “I have to take different kinds of meds for stuff like . . . anxiety, depression. B-but I didn’t want to anymore so I stopped a long time ago.”

”And you were sick for awhile.”

“Y-yeah, but.” He pauses, tries to spit it out. “There’s something else.”

“Is it about why you hurt yourself?” Jean asks, and Jamie abruptly scoots away from him and more onto the bed. He brings his knees to his chin and hides his face in his arms.

“Part of it.”

“Do you want to tell me?” Jean asks quietly, and Jamie wishes he was just normal and bad
things never happen to him. Why did it have to be him? Why not someone else?

No, no, he can't. He can tell Alexandria about Zack but he can't tell Jean about him or . . . what he truly wants to tell Jean who he really is, what he has, but ---

“I can’t.” The bed shifts, and he feels Jean move back to his side again.

“Why not?”

“Cause you’ll think I’m disgusting and hate me and then leave –“

Jamie’s voice catches in his throat when Jean stands up abruptly, red anger on his face, fists shaking, and for a second Jamie sees Zack. Jean stops himself, seeing the fear on Jamie. He breathes in deeply and tries to calm his emotion

“You don’t . . . you don’t fucking understand, Jamie. You just don’t,” he bites, and he doesn’t want it to come out harsh but he needs it too.

“I just, I just.” The red falls from Jean’s face and he lowers his voice. “I care about you so much. I’m not going to find you disgusting or be mad over whatever it is. You trust Alexandria. Why can’t you trust me?”

The frustration drags itself out and leaves an exhaustion Jean wants to shake off. He sits down again, reaches over that little space, and kisses Jamie fully on the lips. There’s desperation in it and Jamie drinks it up, hands clutching Jean’s arms, and if they can stay like this forever then everything will be fine.

They lay there and Jamie likes the way their breaths mix, how wonderful Jean looks, and how refine he suddenly feels.

“I’m sorry,” Jamie says. “I’m sorry . . . I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to go there. I’ll hate it.”

Jean doesn’t bother calling Jamie out for changing the subject, and kisses his face instead.

“It’s okay,” Jean muses. “It might be good for you.”

“I’ll probably have to take more medication and I hate it and I already feel dead and they’ll just make me feel deader.” Jamie pulls his face back from Jean, cheeks pink. “I feel bad with or without them.”

“They wouldn’t put you in there if they didn’t think it would work. I know you don’t want to but if you go through it I promise you’ll feel so much better.”

“How do you know?”

“I feel really certain today.” Jamie smiles and tries to keep himself from laughing.

“I don’t understand how you can be so confident.”

“You just have to be, sometimes.”

Jamie leans up on his elbow, staring down at Jean tentatively. “I want you.”

“You do have me.”

“No, I--I –“ and suddenly Jamie has Jean on his back, bony legs over slim hips, and hands pressing on stern shoulders. He moves his mouth over Jean’s face and kisses him. Jean’s heart is beating erratically, and there’s urgency in the way Jamie’s lips move against his own and the way his tongue mingles with Jean. It excites him and scares him because Jamie’s no longer small and timid.

Jean moves his hands onto Jamie’s hips and kisses him harder till their mouths are a dark pink. Jamie shakes and then stops, like he’s realizing what he’s doing and is afraid. It quickly passes and he goes on, pressing harder into Jean.

It doesn’t hurt because it’s with Jean and not someone else.

As Jamie tugs at Jean's shirt, there's a part of Jean not lost in the haze that comes blaring fast at him and he forces his mouth away from Jamie’s, causing Jamie to awkwardly bump his nose into Jean’s cheek. Jean tries to breathe again, tries to use his brain and think.

He ignores the strong want in him and realizes he can't do this. He feels terrible but he says it.

“No, Jamie.”

Jamie stares at him like Jean stabbed him and Jean has to glance away.

Shit.

“W-why?”

“You’re not ready. I know you aren’t. And, hell, you’re aunt’s just downstairs”

“I am ready. And she won’t hear anything, trust me.”

“You’re lying. You look terrified and sick.”

There is a little demon gnawing at Jean’s skull, nagging at him. Why won’t you do this for him? For each other? Why are you so selfish? Jean that wants nothing more than to make Jamie feel better, and God, he wants him too. But he can’t, he won’t. Not like this.

Jamie gets off him and stands over by his dresser. Jean finally looks at him again, and his face burns from the amount of anger and despair Jamie is throwing at him.

“So you don’t want me like that,” Jamie states.

”Not now. Not when you’re like this.”

“Like I’m crazy.”

“You’re not crazy you’re just overwhelmed. You don’t want it now. You’ll regret it later and I’ll feel like shit for it.” The more Jean speaks the more Jamie’s mouth scrunches up like he’s trying not to laugh.

“I just wanna know it doesn’t always hurt. That it’ll feel fine since it’s you and you’re not like –!“ Jamie stops and clamps his teeth down.

Jean goes and stands before him, touches his arm but Jamie jerks back. “What’s wrong?”

Jamie’s fists shake at his side like he wants to punch Jean and himself too. Maybe that would be better, for Jamie to hit Jean and himself until he feels better.

“You don’t want to ‘cause I’m a mess,” Jamie says. “I already know that.”

”You’re overreacting.”

“When aren’t I?” he screams.

“Lower your voice!”

”I’m crazy and I’m pathetic –“

“No, you’re not –“

“And you wouldn’t want me ‘cause my body’s a fuckin’ mutant!”

His voice dies out and Jamie wishes everything else would do the same. He looks at the window like he wants to jump out of it, or for a stray bullet to come through it and strike him in his brain. Jean steps slowly towards him, his hand reaching for him.

“Don’t touch me,” Jamie snaps.

“Calm down –“

“Get out!”

“Not until you listen to me!” Jean’s hands grab Jamie’s forearms and he ends up pushing him into Jamie’s dresser, causing various things to fall onto the floor. Jean’s face pales and he quickly lets go of Jamie. He opens his mouth to apologize but then the sound of the door creaking open and the doorknob hitting the wall surprises them. Girlie stands in the doorway, confused, her eyes burning into Jean’s skin.

“I think it’s time for you to leave,” she says, voice strained. Jean looks at Jamie but he has his back to them. Jean tries to speak again and only air comes out. He gives up, stuffs his hands in his pockets, and shows himself out.

Jean drives away as soon as his key starts the car, and he doesn’t bother to look back.