Psyche

10

10

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?”