Disingenuous

11. Fame

May 23, 2018

Jackson was getting tired of not being able to sleep. He couldn't sleep for more than an hour or two at a time that night and his sleep was littered with nightmares. That wasn't unusual, but it was something he thought had gotten better. He dreamt of yelling, and conflict. That made sense because he'd fought with Seb directly before bed.

"I didn't know you'd react this way," he'd said.

"Well, so there's no confusion," Jackson had snapped back. "I am definitely not okay with you giving drugs to my long lost 15 year old child!"

"Jesus fuck, okay Jax!" He'd said back with exasperation.

"I'm serious," Jackson had insisted. "If it happens again, I won't let you stay here."

And Jackson hadn't even thought that through, but his voice had come out sounding deadly serious. He did mean it. He was sure. Seb had taken pause, and stared back at Jackson in shock over the severity of the statement. He'd never threatened that seriously. Seb belonged there. Seb had been welcome since the beginning when he had nowhere else to go. He had options now, but that wasn't the point.

"Jax you were smoking joints with me when I was a teenager," Seb said with confusion laced in his face.

Jackson knew that was true. He knew all of this was confusing and hypocritical, but things with Seb had never been normal. Jackson never attempted to fill an appropriate role in Sebs life. Seb was 17 when Jackson met him and Jackson just treated Seb like an adult from the beginning. It had been chaos in every sense, but Jackson couldn't take it back.

"Maybe I shouldn't have Seb," Jackson had replied wearily. "Maybe think about that."

Seb had just looked utterly confused, like maybe Jackson was just ripping a rug straight out from under him without warning. Jackson kind of was, but how could Seb expect anything else? He was the one who told Jackson he needed to change.

Despite that, when Jackson woke up for the final time that morning around 4am after the dreams of conflict, he was actually thinking about his mother. He hadn't spoken to her since Europe. He couldn't even remember how many years it had been. He just knew she'd already started seeing him online back then. She was difficult. Jackson didn't think either of them wanted to speak to eachother anymore. He'd heard she would deny being his mother in public among other less pleasant things. During that last phone call, she had thanked him for singing about women despite what she called his invert behavior. It was the only inclination he ever had that she had listened to his music. He hated himself now for telling her she was welcome.

He wondered what she'd say if she knew about Morgan. Babies out of wedlock were as bad in her eyes as the gay thing, but Morgan wasn't a baby anymore.

Jackson had definitely missed a lot. He was sure his mother would find a way to make that his fault too. He decided, like he always had, that calling her was probably not a good idea.

He couldn't ever call his mother. He couldn't call Carver. He couldn't call Dylan. Who exactly was he supposed to call?

He finally kicked his sheets back and rose from the bed. Everything was still dark and the sunrise was still ages away, but he wasn't sleepy anymore. He had let his thoughts get too carried away.

The house was silent as he crept his way down to the kitchen. The coffee pot was cleaned and ready this time so he started it to a slow brew, and paced until it was ready. His body was buzzing with an inappropriate nervous energy that should have been reserved for a different time of day. Vaguely, he thought that coffee was not going to help that, but it didn't ever stop him from the daily ritual. He got the urge to go for a drive, but at such an early hour that seemed inappropriate.