[ Jesse doesn’t answer right away. The road stretches out in front of them like a scar, silver and wet from the last round of rain, and the sky overhead hangs low with the kind of bruised clouds that don’t promise anything good. His hands stay steady on the wheel, but his jaw tightens just enough to betray the shift under his skin. Four fathers. An evil one. A dead mother. Raised by an angel and whatever else fate tossed into the blender. Jack says it all so matter-of-fact, like it isn’t the wildest thing Jesse’s ever heard...and Jesse’s heard some shit.
But it’s that last question that lands like a stone in his chest and sinks his heart into his stomach. Do you have a family? He exhales slowly, fog blooming on the windshield before the vents chase it off. His voice is quiet when it comes, not defensive nor bitter, just worn out. ]
Yeah. Technically. [ A pause. ] I got parents back in New Mexico. Real clean-cut, y’know? Normal Rockwell types. Church every Sunday. Front lawn trimmed like a fuckin' golf course. And then there’s me.
[ The laugh that follows is dry. Not cruel, just dulled at the edges like something worn down too many times. ]
They stopped calling when I dropped outta college after the first week. Kinda stopped looking at me like a son way before that, though. I think they thought I’d ruin my little brother. Maybe they were right.
[ He taps a rhythm against the steering wheel with his thumb, like he can drum the feeling out of his bones, a muted percussion meant to ground him. He doesn’t look at Jack. Maybe part of him is afraid he'll see pity there, and sometimes he's not sure empathy is something he deserves. ]
Guess that’s the thing, though. You don’t get to choose who you come from. But you can choose who you put yourself around. You got people who gave a damn. That counts.
[ Another pause, then softer: ]
Sorry about your mom, by the way. [ Jesse swallows. ] I had an aunt. Ginny. She was more of a mom to me than mine ever was. Always made sure I ate, y’know? Made me feel like I wasn’t just some screwup kid. She got sick a few years back, though. Wasn't around for long after that.
[ He shrugs like it doesn’t still ache, like it isn’t one of the only losses he doesn’t make jokes about. Like it isn't one of the things that kick-started his effort to escape with substances. The silence that follows isn’t heavy, though, because he keeps most of those thoughts inside. ]
She woulda liked you. [ Jesse adds after a moment, turning his head to spare a glance at Jack. There's something honest and warm in his eyes, as brief as the look is. Like an ember that never quite went out. ] You’re weird as hell, man. But, like...in a good way, y'know? I can tell you got a good heart.
you're too kind :') a little canonblind, but jack is great!
But it’s that last question that lands like a stone in his chest and sinks his heart into his stomach. Do you have a family? He exhales slowly, fog blooming on the windshield before the vents chase it off. His voice is quiet when it comes, not defensive nor bitter, just worn out. ]
Yeah. Technically. [ A pause. ] I got parents back in New Mexico. Real clean-cut, y’know? Normal Rockwell types. Church every Sunday. Front lawn trimmed like a fuckin' golf course. And then there’s me.
[ The laugh that follows is dry. Not cruel, just dulled at the edges like something worn down too many times. ]
They stopped calling when I dropped outta college after the first week. Kinda stopped looking at me like a son way before that, though. I think they thought I’d ruin my little brother. Maybe they were right.
[ He taps a rhythm against the steering wheel with his thumb, like he can drum the feeling out of his bones, a muted percussion meant to ground him. He doesn’t look at Jack. Maybe part of him is afraid he'll see pity there, and sometimes he's not sure empathy is something he deserves. ]
Guess that’s the thing, though. You don’t get to choose who you come from. But you can choose who you put yourself around. You got people who gave a damn. That counts.
[ Another pause, then softer: ]
Sorry about your mom, by the way. [ Jesse swallows. ] I had an aunt. Ginny. She was more of a mom to me than mine ever was. Always made sure I ate, y’know? Made me feel like I wasn’t just some screwup kid. She got sick a few years back, though. Wasn't around for long after that.
[ He shrugs like it doesn’t still ache, like it isn’t one of the only losses he doesn’t make jokes about. Like it isn't one of the things that kick-started his effort to escape with substances. The silence that follows isn’t heavy, though, because he keeps most of those thoughts inside. ]
She woulda liked you. [ Jesse adds after a moment, turning his head to spare a glance at Jack. There's something honest and warm in his eyes, as brief as the look is. Like an ember that never quite went out. ] You’re weird as hell, man. But, like...in a good way, y'know? I can tell you got a good heart.