three years ago, jason was on the run. he was on a run from the loss of his natal father, from fate that he felt tugging at his heels, from pain and suffering. an aimless youth, lost to the ennui of self-isolation and drugs—
or so he thought.
three years has gone since then and under the course of two years, jason has been proven wrong; by life, by his friends in the house, by andrew his best friend, and by julius, his lover, soulmate, and, since april, husband.
they’re moving out but jason remained in the house for a while, easing himself out of the familiar walls where beloved faces have greeted him, each and every one of them sharing a life together. however, time has come to move on to another chapter with julius; in another house, their own house, to create a life and future for themselves as husbands.
after jason has stepped down the stoop with a helmet in hand and bag of his kept necessities thrown over his shoulder, he looks back and squints up at the tall building, enclosed by the sky of new york. “so long.”
a collab of sorts with frida, @juliefinn. what’s in italics and bold is written by her, through and for julius. it’s wonderful. thank you again.
how lovely it is, to walk by themselves with interlocked fingers. “we're now humbly approaching your throne father, and thank you for this day that we've awoken to.” baby’s breaths rests behind julius’ ear while the rest is kept in his love’s pendent hand. it chimes by his side after the lilt of their footsteps, treading lithe and lissome by nemophilias and bellflowers. the lady of the meadow and her hand of gossamer reaches out to him, brushing a warm tear off his cheek. a smile tickles forth on his lips, reddened from sucking on the remnants of his love’s. “thank you for the warmth of a body beside us to protect us from loneliness and nightmares.” on their knees, inside the woven shade of their trousers, stains of dirt and grass hide. as does the little case of wood and velvet in jason’s pocket. what once had a dwelling inside of it, has tread out to be carried by them both, one on either’s ring finger, interwoven as they walk past congratulating birches. “thank you for this home that we can live in together. thank you for your teachings and thank you for your patience with us.
as they reach the brook they earlier had hopped across on coarse rocks, jason admires julius from behind while clutching his hand. gloved by his larger one, it fits perfectly and does not threaten to slip out as his love leads them forward. it was once so cold, so very cold that he could not keep them warm, regardless of how fast or hard his blood pulsed. “years ago we were both in bad places father, and when we met the sun started to shine again.” but the sunlight has thickened since then. it glosses over their skin and kisses them aglow. their cheeks have come to know smile and laughter again. god knows they have. “there are still very hard days for me, but with jason here i feel like i can make it through.” as do themselves, from caressing out the soreness out of them. as do they, from seeing a brighter self reflect back at them with its light, seeping through all and enveloping naked tissue in its gauze. “please give me strength and ability to be there for him just like he is there for me.” and as do their beloved friends; their joy chronicled in pictures and tapes to be revisited in dreams and memory. “give us strength to practice the fruitage of the spirit to everyone, but most importantly to each other.”
indeed, they all know, and jason climbs up the small hill with julius, he can see it all around him. he does not let go off his lashes, off his mouth until he feel the white roses glide out of the buttonholes of his suit jacket. “help us remain faithful and help us confide in each other even during hard times.” his fingers come to catch them, but with only one hand to do it, jason halts and julius looks as he, too, comes to stop, right below the road. “help me put my faith in him and help jason put his faith in me.” hugging his hand tighter, he climbs down the arm’s length and helps him nudge the roses back in place. “help us keep our love as pure as untainted as love is supposed to be.” while they are whole alone, they are yet one of two, and the hand who furthers jason’s he does not know any less than he does his own. nor the mouth he kisses back up; warm ‘i love yous’ passing back and forth among soft giggles while they wait for the bus that will carry them home.
“thank you lord for letting us find each other. thank you for andrew and please bless him during every step of his life and guide him to heaven when it's time. guide him gently and hold his hand for he deserves it.”
fortunately the bus is empty when they board it. not that it had ought to be, but to lie with their heads on each other and touch the opal which dresses the other’s finger in peace and quiet is a blessing. so much is. “bless jason and his gentle soul.” julius’ heartbeat against his own after shifting onto his lap is one. “bless jason and his humble heart.” as is his breathing, pressing onto him with each rise to his ribcage and jason’s reaching back each time it falls. “bless jason and his kind mind.” it’s all a blessing, that his love’s alive despite what has cast upon him—despite what has grabbed his ankles and had him stay where life does not tread. “give him strength to stay on the path he is walking in lieu of the road he used to wander.” it is a blessing, that jason could work the whitethorn out of his ankles and lick his wounds for him as his mouth became too familiar with the taste of suffering. “help him receive peace and help him find solitude in me.” they share more than a face. from today onwards they share a name, and jason, whose fear no longer torments him as it used to, feels that they share a fate. somehow, he feels they always have, that this has been within them all along; unknown to themselves until it awoke from slumber two years ago. “bless him and his intentions for i love all of him so.”
so when they at home kneel on each side of their bed with their hands clasped across from each other, jason does not interrupt julius’ prayer in either word or thought for it reverberates through himself, despite how long his soul has gone raging at god for what man has done. “please god, please bless me despite the things i've done.” though unlike his love, he cannot keep his eyes closed. no, he is not quite ready yet. “i've been unhappy for so long but now i finally feel happy again, now that i have met jason. thank you lord for leading him to me and thank you for opening my heart for his to take.” he is not ready to stand before their father if not beside him, and he does not dare to take the risk of facing him behind shut eyelids. hence he tells him this quietly in conjunction, asking for patience and forgiveness until the day he may throw his burden upon him. “help me stay away from bad thoughts and help me be the husband he deserves. help me stay away from anything that can hurt him.”
and with his blues softly touching julius’ face before his heart and soul... “may our souls rest together when it is time for us to join you in heaven.” he asks to return all his blessings to him, his darling dove, in selfless, everlasting love.
before they in unison end their prayer with, “and we pray this to you, through your son jesus christ, amen.”
[ he grins broadly beneath
his helmet, feeling warm
for reasons unrelated to his
heavy suit of armor. through
the slitted eyes of his mask
he looks jason up and down, then,
taking in his friend’s strange getup. ]
I, uh, have no idea
what you are, though.
Or, um, who?
[ buzzing with happiness, jason
returns andrew’s grin, though his
remains hidden while his own
does not. it does not bother him
( he wants andrew to know and
feel how dear he is to him ), but the
condensed glass is nevertheless
brought against his cheek to cool its
rosiness. his eyes follow the bob of
his friend’s head, and when asked
what or whom his costume is, the
cubed ice stirs from his smile
settling into a gentler one. ]
{ watching jason’s fingers hide bashfully behind
strands of pink… julius runs the pearls of his
necklace back and forth over his mouth, head
bowed enough for his hair to hide the color of
his skin.
he wishes that he was the one that looked the
most alluring, judging by how jason speaks of
him when he’s leaned closer, warm liquor breath
hitting his ear and making his knees slightly weak,
but he’s not. no, it’s jason who has an aura of red,
staining julius’ skin like he’s a canvas and jason’s
the artist. with him so close julius has fastened his
gaze on the dip right above his collarbone, refraining
from adoring the smell of hair product and just him
too much. if he took this game of theirs as seriously
as he took his game with andrew he would’ve
stepped away with a frown — “you’ve got some
nerve, boy. don’t you know it’s a prince you’re
speaking to?”— but he doesn’t. he’s somehow
brought closer, temple to jason’s exposed shoulder,
hiding shyly behind the back of his hands. his drunken
mouth is smiling, tingling just like his fingers are,
wishing for this boy to take him and dance close.
still, how he loves to play with him. }
I’ve been told to only dance with royalty.
Yeah?
[ julius is trying to recite words of
a prince—that is, one that is
neither moonstruck nor rosy from
blush. but he very much is, pressing
his forehead to jason’s humerus
which presses back when he reaches
out to set down his drink on the coffee
table. it all feels so familiar; feeling the
warmth to julius’ breath on himself as
it seeps through his fingers, joints
kissing themselves red as pressure
withstands while mellow blood soughs
on. sleep feels near, inevitable even,
until the music fades out and returns
with a slower song that is particularly
familiar... ]
...How ‘bout I perform then?
[ , jason asks consequently, leaning closer
to the prince when his hands draw down his
arms in sheer cloth, a lone guitar trembling
while he does... now it is his turn, pretending
the pink on his cheeks is simply a piece of
his make-up as he holds him and smiles, ]
{ while not exactly disappointed, julius remembers
how soft jason had looked last halloween, and how
that had been one of the reasons of him cuddling
up against him to begin with. the “pillowcase” look
really worked for him. but, just like julius isn’t going
to dress up as a greek god this year, he can’t be
saddened that jason won’t go as luke skywalker.
the excitement of seeing what everyone’s going as
is half the fun, so whatever jason’s putting on will
spark more interest in him than his old costume
ever would.
looking up at him for a moment and meeting his
bleached blonde locks, julius chews thoughtfully
on his bottom lip. his fingers stop threading pearls
and they drop onto the sheet between their legs, a
short silence following that’s broken by some distant
talking, probably coming from the doppelgängers that
are decorating the living room.
julius follows jason’s gaze, fixating it on the necklace
in his hands and the thin rings that dress his fingers.
he starts to gently twist them. }
… I can’t believe we’ve already
known each other for a year.
[ the silence that follows julius’ flick of
a reflection doesn’t bother jason, nor
does the muffled voices of those
outside his door, but when his hands
are brought still, an attentive glance flit
up to his blues. they’re mingling with
his hair and jason blushes slightly when
he looks down again and his mind
replaces the feeling of julius’ gaze with his
fingers whose rings he has come to play
with. embarrassed, the end of the brush’s
handle gets positioned between his lips in
haste to brush the nagging bashfulness out
of his lightened locks. it dips along to the
beat of his speech as he murmurs back in
soft sincerity, ]
Mhm... I dunno, t’feels
like I’ve known you since
the beginning, somehow.
the fruit and sap of the sycamore tree bestow immortality, and where willows do their weeping, strength and hope inspire survival of those who suffer from loss of harmony.
last christmas i got the opportunity to write for pansy and this year i have for frida, @juliefinn. the writing i were supposed to have written got lost along the way, a week or so before today, so unfortunately i have not given this one as much time as i would’ve liked. i hope it’s readable, still, and more akin to magical realism than fantasy. if it happens that you like it, i’d love to revamp it for you. i hope your day have been well and that it will continue to treat you better.
also, thank you for this year, everyone.
title: anastomosis
word count: 2444
tw: medical-ish gore and body horror below the last asterism, though it’s technically inosculation. there are also mentions of death throughout.
“hello.” the greeting marbles off julius’ tounge as he stands between earth and dawn, his shadow cast on the stranger who underneath awakes from slumber. tufts of bluegrass shimmer across the red and golden of his tickled skin, embosomed by tiny specks that bewing his jutting shoulders and gather its shed down along his nape and neck. when julius with forethought stoop down by his side, the presumed spots come forth as something else—it is not dirt that the boy had blanketed himself with up to his waking. they are freckles, either from sun or birth, and as such they belong on his skin no less than the purple airfoil that a demoiselle has left for his eyes to wear and water neath each lid. julius’ gaze moves off his shoulder and gets caught by his stare, intent though mellow from doze. alongside the rising sun he promises much life past noon, for in his seize julius’ heart somersaults in-between its beats and then cheers loud enough for morning bats to flee the other way.
“i’m sorry, did i wake you?”, julius laughs as quietly as he may, embarrassed of how soon as well as long he fell into daze. he withdraws to settle down on folded legs. shallow wrinkles set in rows down the bridge of his nose when the grass tickles his sensitive ankles. “i thought you just had your eyes shut.” or so julius had hoped, for now his guilt to have awoken the boy is well enough for him to draw in his bottom lip and gnaw it raw inside his unstrung mouth. he fears for the worst until the boy forces himself up on languid arms and asks,
“who are you?”
reluctantly the teeth unloose as to let him nudge his wounded lip back in place to answer, “julius finnigan bo mccallaghan jr., and you?”
“...jason amadeo naim cankam.”, he returns at slower pace.
“where do you come from? i don’t recognise you.”
“you could’ve not just seen me”, jason avoids in such a narrow frame of time that it brings julius to withdraw his hands off the grass and onto his lap in a clasp. was it dumb to ask? the poor boy asks himself with no answer to drape his trust upon. why could it have been dumb to ask?
“yes, but… i have a feeling i’d remember you…” thereunder his fingers rush a hold each of the blonde curls that wreath around his ears. “i mean, we look alike, you and me. not wholly, of course… but enough that i think i’d remember.”
“we do?”
julius confirms through a soft nod and replaces his curls with his mouth once again. meanwhile, jason draws further into himself to unravel the ball of his childhood’s yarn.
“…i haven’t seen myself before.”
“never?”
“never.”
has jason, the poor boy, not once looked upon his own reflection? has has never seen the corners of his mouth muster a smile? his lashes shoo off cobweb and dew? his cheeks blush from the weakest breeze? julius looks back to when he was seven years young, feeling like royalty when he sat atop of his brother bo’s broader shoulders and held onto his head while elijah waded backwards in front of them, arms obtrude lest their little brother were to totter and fall. it was the day where he took his first breaststroke and floated. as was it the day when he met his own smile. he wants to help jason meet his, too, thus on two rifled limbs julius rises up, holding his palm open for jason’s to fold over. “come.”
“where to?”
“you have to meet yourself once in your life. come, i’ll lead you.”
doubt melts off jason’s nerves and he accepts his hand into his, fingers squeezing his fist. it feels silken to his own palm, which is fenced in scars, pink as white. presuming a flinch from julius he holds onto his breath, but once helped off the ground and dusting the sod off his pants, he is nudged back to breathing as he is lead off the meadow, into the grove of anemone, and step out on the other side on ankles, battered in bitemarks of nettle and thornbush.
⁂
“it’s okay, jason. you won’t have to get in.”
tethered a bit off the lakeside he sits, crouched and hugging a boulder as far as his arms their sinews can stretch. it is not to prefer before julius, but with freshwater up to his calves, jason regards himself as without rescue, whereupon he gripes, “it’s too much. please, come back.”
“...vic said that too the day he decided to come to the lake with us.”, julius paws onward, weighing his words with care as he climbs up the brim and afterward use the linen above his abdomen to dry the lichen off his palms. “though we hurried to, he had already run back home before eli, bo, and i got up.” of course they had followed, comforting their younger brother by the plum trees among wasps and dew. thereafter they had agreed to try another day and make tarts in lieu.
“vic?”
“yes, my little brother, victor. elijah and bo are our oldest… william and zebulon are our youngest, in that order.” he pauses. “…and john, lucas, and joseph… they were born before vic and after me.”
his teeth play then on untuned strings as they screech between sore gums, hidden from jason to keep him catching its cry with his sight. but he knows better than not to trust his gut, and thus he sets his arms free, using them for linchpins once crawling on his fours to the brim while julius watches him, curious until content.
“just... don’t push me in...”, jason falters while he grasps the earth on his fours and julius wades in once more, tiptoeing astern as to bait waves of neither water nor blood.
“i’d never.” sunlight slide down his thin fingers when all then of them point at the sky where birds come in garlands and no clouds are to be found. meanwhile, jason’s abdomen whines as he forces his curved spine to unbend—the farther away he can be and yet witness his own reflection, the better. julius, however, wants to admire up close. thus, he does.
“…do you see yourself?”
“yeah.”
“so what do you think?”
“...i’m not much to look at.”
“how about now?”, julius asks low when he, with no thought of clothing, kneels down before his reflection and it dissolves as his fingertips flit across.
“better.”, jason nods low.
“...because you see less of yourself.”
it was not a question but whilst pulling himself up, another nod is the affirmation jason offers before he hides his mouth against the shoulder, teeth nipping at its skin till it goes red. if he only knew how he sees him, julius mourns to himself but nevertheless forces out a bashful smile, though the words ease off his tongue,
“i think i like you better.”
his irises, warm with yellow in ultramarine, look back at his ones, pale in cobalt, and their throats lace in pollen, their bodies pulling one another’s into the water. soaking wet with sternum aglow they remain, hands on each other when sharing hugs as well as frolicsome shoves, bringing forth giggles which erupt like hiccups do. that is, until jason is to discover julius’ love for underwater breathing—submerging their bodies, charged with soft, visceral electricity that killed neither.
⁂
“singing along?”, jason smiles to julius when they walk back side by side. a leaf of reed rests against his mouth, for soon before it had made a woodwind for his lips. but julius’ have already hurried themselves to silence and the lower one gets drawn into his mouth like it had been at dawn. he had felt sure that his hums were low enough to elude the other’s ears, but alas, he had been wrong.
“no.”
with eyes that mean no harm as they roll, jason lowers the reed and his gaze as his thumbs begin to rove. “can you tell more about your brothers? what are they like?”
“...eli and bo are much taller than i am. they grew alongside each other and after i had been born i dovetailed their arms in bed. and then our youngers brothers came, and i attached to them as well... but vic and will often sleeps along eli and bo so, who knows, perhaps they’ll grow tall like them… with zeb, it’s to wait and see.”
“and john, lucas, a—”
suddenly jason quiets. not from just anything, but from the three beddings which tread forward in the grass before them. by each one the wood anemones that has been spared from getting slept into the ground grow. all triplets, they are inseparable but the one to the right, the home of a tree whose height has been reduced to that of a stump. eyes turn aside, but not julius’. the thin membranes of his have gone glossy and his pupils miniscule. if they could talk, they would in snivels and on to sobs. but devoid of words for to utter, julius drops on his knees before the bed on the left, carefully places his two palms past its edge, and puts his mouth at rest against the cold earth.
“hello, john.”, he whispers midst a tone, threatful of lament. “please... don’t be afraid. you will meet us all and be held for as long as you want. i promise you that. your brothers love you… give a hug to our mother from us. tell her we love her, too.” a familiar kiss to seal his prayer is pressed with two more to come and hindered by five, spiritual fingers that have his neck locked in a lurid halo round his pileum, jason is forced to look further, and when he is to drop his jaw in apology another five push it shut, he is also forced to listen. “hello, lucas... we miss you. you don’t have to say that you ran back here. you can say that you fought, if you want. but please, come back. if just for a day, come back. we love you.” his brothers do not lie above. “hello, joseph.” nor do they, hidden under the wilted, torn wood anemones. “…what our father did to you was cruel… we love you so, little brother. nothing can wane our love for you… father did not understand this... i don’t know if he still do...” they lie underneath, “but he isn’t here. you won’t have to see him if you decide to come back…” in the roots of the dogwoods they were begotten from, “please, come back.” and since then have gone astray.
and julius, hiding his face behind his hand, hobbles up on two to cry to jason’s heart as neither of them return yet another night, though brimmed with stars to guide them.
“are you leaving?”
brought into a pinky-hold, jason swears him his reassuring, “no.”
⁂
though they couldn’t know for sure, that evening they shared, vulnerable and hurting, had changed it all. the year has gone from late spring, on to summer, and at last, before wintertime, early autumn.
tears no longer ferment within julius, bringing forth fungi to strike his veins and taint him orange. nor is he today afraid that there might be some left, for he trusts jason as he has trusted him with tending for skin as it has shed, several times over. his scar tissue flickers now in peach and eggshell, and the skeleton that had once shattered in broken joints have healed to become pliable. during the summer they had run and stumbled with purpose to roll about, fished for mussels and their little treasures to make jewelry with, and above all, cried till all hurt got out to make space for the wonder right in front of them.
“julius?”, jason interrupts the crickets as they lie—himself with his head on julius’ lap and his on a tussock for a pillow—amid the meadow where they first met. on both’s fourth, left finger, a silver ring of their size has been put.
“yeah?”
“i’ve been thinking.”
“...what about?”
“i want you be with you in winter as i was in spring and summer—as i am now, in autumn.”
“...jason, what are you saying?”
“that i love you, and that if you want me as i want you, you have me forever.”
⁂
cut with the first gash, jason and his wound slowly spatter apart. tendons stretch and muscles writhes and throbs whilst in aerial hands. sap leaves his tear-ducts and nostrils, his wrist gathering them all to use for thread besides those who julius steals with his lips, kissing them gone.
“i love you, honey.”, he hums against his cheek, bathing in the scent of honey and sandalwood one last time before theirs are to coalesce. “i love you so...” the blade drips his tummy crimson whilst it beats wild against its edge—closer to jason, his love. “i’m so happy to be yours as you are mine.” curls drape each face, blonde to caramel, which the lovers brush away and arrange, noses touching and teeth showing until their foreheads press and julius bids, “jason, do me as i’ve done you.”
and the second gash forms in wished hold, shroud atop of his own. pushed upward, a twincut is brought to be whereon their chests press close, ribcages of honeycomb cracking open for the nectar to run while their arms hold onto each others’ back—hearts unfolding and sealing their pleats upon touch. whilst jason smears the sap off his wrist and runs his fingers alongside their seam of skins, julius kisses him—his mouth a butterfly in frenzy—in line with his drawn stitches, needle casted in bumblebee fur and freshwater pearl.
this is their home—a meadow where wildflowers grow and mice, rabbits, and voles delve dens and cavort. here birds come to make nests for their young, as do deer on the ground and runaway cats until they feel ready to be found and return home.
here are his brothers, all eight of them—elijah and bo, twining each other’s hands and holding them high above their heads to bestow curtains of chiffon for the young to play with and hare through. william and victor, throwing edelweiss as far as they will go before they float down and strew around them. john, lucas, and joseph, smiling and blessing the earth with laughter that encourage petals to twirl and whirl.
{ waking up to honey colored clouds outside
his window, julius curls an arm underneath his
pillow to bring the warmth of it closer, shutting
out the 18th of november air. on any other day
he would’ve gotten up immediately to make
breakfast, but today is a special day, so he
lays in bed until the clock strikes twelve. but
even then, when midday has arrived, he does
not undress from his pyjamas but rather greets
the day together with it, feeling relaxed and
peach colored when he arrives inside the
kitchen, feet bare, pants gathering at his
ankles.
it is his birthday, so a special type of birthday
boy breakfast is appropriate, and julius spends
a good fifteen minutes chopping fruit into a fruit
salad and making scrambled eggs. once finished
he finds himself curled onto the couch in the living
room, hot tea against his leg, draped in a thick
blanket to keep the fuzzy warmth inside his
body… he puts on the moomins on the tv, and
celebrates his morning by himself. of course, if
anyone decided to join him, he would not mind… }
[ about four months prior jason had
already begun his preparations for this
date, namely julius’ birthday. with a
tighter hold of his wallet and a return to
familiar misdemeanor days became
money, and money became a gift to him
who has uttered longing in mumbles.
once at the breakfast table over a glass
of orange juice and once in bed, his soft
cheek pressed to a softer pillow. leaving
that aside, julius has dug a hand into
jason’s pocket so he would halt as he had,
admiring the worn violin in a street
performer’s hold. unbeknownst to them, its
melody strung like a lament the boy could
not respond to, though he badly wanted to.
when his fingers had squeezed jason’s, the
secret he has kept hidden behind gritted teeth
and tender gums nearly left him.
but it did not. the secret is still wrapped in pink
on his bed when he approaches dearest julius
from behind. he does not lean on the sofa’s
skeleton once he is close enough to do so,
however. nor does he lay a hand on his blanketed
shoulder, for he understands how readily a loving
one can be mistaken for one that is not. no,
instead jason halts four steps away and stirs the
wand in the bottle of bubbles ( to replace any
balloons ) as quietly as he may before he blows
one out. with the iridescent globule floating above
his head, he waits for him to notice it as it idles
towards the floor. hopefully, he will have the time to
make a wish upon it before it hits and bursts, if he
happens to want to. ]
{ … julius. just tipsy enough for his steps
to go from light to those of a fallen feather
without thinking about it, a particular boy
with his ears stained purple is crossing the
floor to reach the couch, where he had
planned to retie his anklet… woe is he,
pearls jangling together when he turns
and meets a gaze much too similar to his
own, but that he’s looked into enough to
always be able to recognize when he’s
interrupted, stumbling slightly and only
for a second. }
Jace.
{ julius has a smile creeping up to his mouth
when he turns to face him fully, eyeing him
and his costume as his own shimmers in the
light coming from the kitchen. ( a downside to
halloween is that it’s usually dark, and as the
fairy lights from last year are on the other side
of the room they’re not much help. ) he sees
fringes and he sees how gently his hair has
been arranged, and he notices the dark color
around his eyes, a vast contrast to julius’ that
he painted white just an hour or two ago.
julius looks up at him curiously, twisting his
string of pearls around his fingers as he does
so. jason looks oddly — carnal? alluring?
enthralling? — erotic where he stands. }
A flapper?
[ though it is too dim to see, jason can
feel the gaze julius has for him once he
has turned around, smiling because of
the boy in his sight. he is being looked
at with fancy, though his for him makes
his heart stumble for the beauty of the
other… it tints his cheeks with the blush
he was too haughty to put on. the glass
finds its way to one of them, feeding off
its cold. he shakes his head when julius
mistakes him for a flapper, though he
can see how so. ]
No.
[ coy, jason’s eyes shy down at his shirt
while his free hand runs across the fringes
and loops his fingers through them. julius
and his unyielding prettiness wears his
glister well with the glint of appetence
above drawn silver. julius wears it so well
that his quickened heartbeat might just
spoil his impersonation of someone akin
to a homme fatal. but with an ounce of
hope, jason tries to turn the tables once
he looks up with a newfound smile, hiding
behind the glass as he takes a sip and
resting its brim against his bottom lip once
he leans closer to one periwinkle ear of his. ]
But if you are as charming as
you appear to be, I’d like to ask
you for a dance.
[ jason’s stunned, elated reaction
has andrew’s heart swelling with
pride and joy and he feels his
cheeks pressing against the inner
walls of his mask as his grin spreads. ]
Yeah – I finished it.
[ he taps on the helmet with
one clawed hand, admitting, ]
Couldn’t have done it without
this, though. Well, I never would’ve
thought it was possible, at least.
[ beaming broadly beneath the
false metal, with flushed skin and
a voice soft with sincerity, he says, ]
So… thanks.
[ all blossom, jason's smile does
not fester on his mouth but in his
heart, singing its own lyrics for the
electrobeats that thud against the
walls. to hear andrew confirm the
good impact he has on him will
have its solemn place in all its
seriousness. but tonight there will
be praise and celebration. ]
Sure.
[ he utters the rest with hesitation: not
from doubt, but from his shyness that
( unlike andrew's ) can be told straight
from his rosy face. ]
You inspired me in the first place.
[ the sangria gets in the way for jason to
trace the lines of his palm with his other,
thus he tries to find relief by holding it to
his warmer neck instead. he looks down
on the floor to frown for himself as the
words feel harder to strum than before. ]
{ pulling his collar over his nose, hiding
the frown that appears on his reddened
mouth, julius meets jason’s eyes with the
same kind of gaze you’d give to a lamb
stuck in a fence, or a bird with a broken
wing. he had no idea that jason carried
nightmares with him. jason has always
been a quiet person, fond of keeping
things to himself. he knows more of
julius than julius does of him; mostly
because julius got overwhelmed that
day in the kitchen, but also because
he found immediate comfort in him the
moment he rested his eyes upon his
face. so, to think about how jason has
carried hurt with him, too… julius feels
guilty. he lets a hand fall onto the mattress,
just a foot or two away from jason’s. }
Is it working?
It’s pretend.
[ it is true that he has been blooming
inward, unfurling once in a blue moon.
jason does not assume everyone to
understand, but though he does relate to
the idea that he must protect himself, a
scarce amount of time is spent in
contemplation to when, how, and to whom
his soul can bare itself to. no, jason waits.
at home jason would sometimes nudge his
dad awake in the dead of night to tell him
what a peer had menaced him not to, even as
an adolescent. he could not wait with his secrets
once they felt safe to share, something which
kofi understood when he once rolled over one
night and woke up to a day where his son no
longer felt like he had anything particular to
communicate; shrugging his shoulders when
asked to tell.
attuned to his heart, he must not to sleep on it,
lest it may burrow and grow even the more
stubborn. sitting here with julius and feeling
comfort from his presence, he dares not to
as he holds the reefer out to him again. ]
I don’t remember them but they’re not
gone. They won’t be unless I face them.
{ waiting patiently with his lips pressed together,
julius sits with his legs curled underneath him,
fingers picking at one another with a hint of
anxiety, but somehow he feels oddly certain
about doing all of this. knowing that cannabis
is a drug, he probably should think about how
his family would react to seeing him, but he
doesn’t. he knows that bo would’ve slapped
the joint right out of his hand, and he knows
that elijah would’ve grabbed him by his shoulders,
and that his father would’ve looked down at him,
ashamed of his “stoner son.” but he doesn’t think
of them before accepting the joint, and he doesn’t
think about them afterwards. from what julius knows
cannabis is sometimes used as an escape, so
certainly he’d smoke a hundred if it meant not
being hurt by the loneliness that still pulls at
his heart.
as the bud rests between two fingers, julius looks
down on his novel that’s discarded on the bed.
inhaling herbal smoke according to jason’s
instructions — slow and deep — he dips a
thumb in between the pages, fanning the paper
out before shoving it back into his open bag on
the floor altogether.
he coughs, surprised at how full the smoke is.
jason is right — it’s not like a regular cigarette
and on top of it all, julius recalls the brownie
incident and remembers how light he had felt
while eating them. when he hands the joint back
to jason he’s lying back against the pillows, lifting
his legs to rest them over jason’s, feeling like he’s
resting on cotton clouds.
but, as at ease he is about this situation, he has
noticed that jason’s expression has remained the
same since he came back. what it says he can
however not say. }
Do you do this a lot?
[ their legs mingle alongside the
smoke, purling up and with the
breeze that skulks back and fro
through the window. unlike the boy
by the head of the bed, jason has
yet to reach where he has begun to
leisure, for as his wonder suggests his
own ladder to climb up with is chipped
and worn from use to his new. ]
... Every now and then.
[ jason shrugs his shoulders and welcomes
his second mouthful to bid himself more
time to give him a thorough answer, thus to
feel enough confidence do so, his eyes rest
on his hand that idles patterns on the bedding
that came loose at nighttime until they return
to julius’ expression, soft in the dim light. ]
{ as the sun slowly sets for another day to end,
orange light filters through the warm curtains and
makes the room get cast in shadows, the lampshade
on the night stand stretching tall against the bleached
wallpaper beside the pinewood door. outside a group
of men are laughing, and the smell of their cigarettes
is strong enough to reach them all the way up here
on the third floor. sure, the window may be open
and the curtains might not be drawn all the way,
but the sound of a close-knit group of friends
enjoying the final hours of the day carries the
scent of prince and marlboro… and although
julius would prefer to close it, they cannot.
sitting on the bottom mattress of the bunk bed
they’re sharing for the night, julius watches jason
spread cannabis into white rolling paper, his fingers
working with the swiftness of a boy accustomed. he
got back just ten minutes ago from a walk that he
had begun in the middle of their way back from a
diner, and julius had went back to their room by
himself. while getting ready for bed he hadn’t
thought that he’d need to do much else than
take his sleeping pill and maybe get a few
chapters of the current novel he’s reading in
tonight, but jason had walked in with a look on
his face that julius hadn’t seen before, and he
has to admit that he was intrigued.
now, wearing just his sleeping shirt and no pants,
he sits beside him, close enough for them to touch.
he remembers getting tricked into eating “pot
brownies” sometime last year when he was still
tied to his bed most of the time by vincent, but
after that he’s never “smoked a joint.” but there’s
a first time for everything, and hopefully this will be
more enjoyable than the experience with the brownies. }
No. Inhale it deep but slow.
[ lilying over the coffee table, jason repeats
the dirty habit that has grown rather old by
now. it is not something that he feels proud
of with the curtains drawn, but nor
does he necessarily feel ashamed as julius
observes him with his thin, undressed knee
to his. on his mattress a novel of his many
lay, and it crosses jason’s mind twice to refer
him back to it. but each time when he is
about to the boy beside him shifts and asks
another question, adamant to see if he may
have a taste of what attaches him to the herb
rather than where the protagonist is off to.
still tired from his restless sleep of yesterday,
jason will not have another fight with him, no
‘forget about it’s and ‘i’m older than you’s.
however he will, if he can, ensure that there is
certainty in his heart before he hands him the
reefer which seals shut before him as he dabs
the delicate paper with the tip of his tongue.
the lighter ( whose picture they shared a giggle
over in the store of their last visited last gas
station ) gets picked off the table and lighting it
with the work of his thumb, the flame dances
by its end until it is called back to its little house
and the blunt settles between jason’s lips, puffing
it a few times before he demonstrates a hit to him.
with a light cough jason feels himself sink into his
seat whilst leaning back, trickling out the smoke
through his mouth once rested on his nape. his eyes
are on julius when he holds out it out to him, looking
for a sign to withdraw his hand. he does not find one. ]
{ feeling his body tense up and his left shoulder
rise with every inch that jason erases between
them, julius soon has his whole head turned
away and facing the shrinking cars. he hears
the sounds of his steps and he hears the bike
that now is working again thanks to jason’s
handiness and he hears the regret in his
gravelly voice… and in the end he hears
his own heart that beats with remorse and
shame — i’m-just a-stu pid-boy like-you.
he drops his cigarette when a light heat
grazes his fingers, the orange glow just a
second or two from burning his skin. he
watches it with a red nose and even redder
cheeks, fingers curling around the metal of
the crash barrier until he feels his vocal cords
unfold. it’s true that jason was an asshole, but
julius egged him on. he’s too tired to fight. that’s
why he wanted to go here in the first place, to
escape the fighting and the hurting and the hard
words, but how is he supposed to stay away from
such things if he opens his dumb mouth to speak
of unnecessary things? julius stands and runs his
hands over the jacket, the wet fabric gathering at
his elbows. he can feel his bandages get soaked
underneath.
glancing up at jason but not meeting his eyes,
julius looks down at their feet. he somehow
hadn’t thought that jason had such a dirty
mouth ( he’s never heard him swear, as far
as he can remember ) but as jason can let
julius’ annoying nagging go, he can let his
brief moment of anger go as well. of course,
even if jason didn’t forgive him, julius would
still wrap his hand around jason’s arm just like
he’s doing now, and he’d still gently bump his
head against his shoulder. somehow, for a
reason he can’t explain, he’d forgive jason
for a lot of things. }
I’m sorry too, Jace.
{ cheek brushing along his shoulder as he circles
him and lifts a leg over the saddle, he waits until
jason is properly seated too before he wraps his
arms around his torso and rests his cheek against
his back. his helmet is still in its compartment but
he has no motivation to put it on. instead he lets
his curls intertwine with jason’s hair that has
gotten wavier in the rain, a detail that julius
feels himself grow quite fond of, but also a
detail that he chooses to keep to himself. }
[ jason hushes himself when julius rises
and stands silent beside him, looking at
the same road as he when the eyes he
calls for lingers downhill.
it is not a reproach that jason forebodes,
though the untuned look to his face could
be misunderstood to say so. no, what is
beating his heart sore as they stand in the
rain ( which would most definitely have
given him a nasty cold by now if it was not
for the heat ) is the thought that julius may
have lost his confidence in him. last
christmas he had asked him for his help to
grant two wishes while snow and lavender
nestled in his aureate hair --- one, for
friendship, and two, for a vacation. with his
frail voice he had mumbled that he wanted
to leave nyc, that he needed to leave, and
now jason’s afraid that he will wish for a
belated third --- to forget mexico.
thus a warm shudder immediately shows
on jason’s skin when julius touches his arm
and bumps his weary head on him. he
receives his forgiveness and he receives an
apology --- mexico is yet to be, for now his
friend is patting on the seat before his, asking
jason to hop on as he had asked him.
he helps julius with his helmet as the buckle
refuses to clasp by his trembling hands before
he buckles his. though the downpour is
beginning to subside, it is too soon to replace
their jackets with ones from their bags, wherefore
jason leaves julius’ jacket be; tied around his
waist. but despite its cold and sodden feel to it,
a thrumming chest accompanies his back.
inevitably, his lilied spine noses closer... ]
‘Kay, let's go.
[ ... it is a warmth that he knows by his name
alone; it is a warmth that he holds onto now that
his feet leave the ground and they return to flight,
their hearts winged by newfound recognition. ]
[ …someone he will quite instantaneously
recognize as andrew, considering he’ll be
coming face to face with a helmet he made
for him himself. beneath it, andrew is grinning
brightly, excited to show off his surprise costume
to him. he hadn’t told him he’d be finishing up the
daedric armor cosplay that jason had begun by
gifting him the helmet, and he can’t wait to see
what he thinks of the whole thing. he takes a
half-step back to give jason some space after
bumping into his spiny shoulder (and also give
him a better view of the full costume), saying, ]
No problem, dude.
Andrew.
[ heavens, look at him. clothed in
shining armor from head to toe, dearest
andrew can be the warrior that he very
much is at heart. a sense of pride flows
to and fro his from seeing that his gifted
helmet had inspired him to be dragonborn
of all things. he had inspired his friend and
what he created with his inspiration is like
no other that he has seen before.
his cheeks are aching but warm from joy
when he nods to the greatness of him. ]
{ scrunching his face up at the gentle
tickles of the bristles of jason’s brush,
julius curls his toes on top of his sheets,
the glitter in his socks shifting in the sinking
sunlight. usually, on halloween night, he
stitched up costumes for his brothers and
lectured them about not being home later
than nine, leaving little to no time to dress
up. of course halloween parties were never
anything unfamiliar to him as he often ended
up in bars dressed up as a ghost or a vampire
around midnight, once the little ones had fallen
asleep. ( or, rather, pretended to. julius knew
better than to believe they’d get an ounce of
shuteye after eating so much candy. ) but even
though julius was the one to help the children
get ready, he doesn’t feel childish when he sits
this close to jason, letting him doll him up. no,
he feels comfortable, content, and when he
looks down at his plastic bag of pearls that
rests on his bed out of the corner of his eye,
he’s smiling slyly. he sticks his needle into
another bead. }
What are you going as, hm?
Luke Skywalker again?
You wouldn’t tell me yours
so I’m not telling you mine.
[ knowing how childish it sounds for
him to utter such thing, he glances at
julius and tosses him his whimsical
simper before he returns to his work.
with his left cheekbone now drawn in
pearl, jason shifts and moves onto his
right. he will want to lean back and
compare afterward, so if he finds one
brighter than the other, he could always
illuminate the paler one. careful to bring
fine lines upon his cheek, jason
withdraws his hand when he notices how
it angles off; his eyes too fond of julius’ to
not shy his sight onto his lashes, lowered
with care for the needle. he would
not know how to tell him the beauty he
finds in them if he were to ask. worried
that the idea to ask will appear to julius
through his gaze, he looks down to
admire the boy’s handicraft instead. ]
[ with a sangria ( or ‘sanguine’, as
a punster has labeled it ) in hand,
jason slow dances out of the kitchen
and to where the music is coming,
dressed up as nancy sinatra in his
satin tank with fringes that he picked
off of thrifted lampshades to sew on,
cuffed trousers, faux pearl bracelet,
and socks; all pink but the smoky
makeup that he put on his eyelids after
helping julius with his. his bleached
hair, too, is worn in an unlike manner;
curled by the ends and fixed with
hairspray, framing his face like the resting
wings does to a dove. by the end of the
night, however, they are sure to be
disheveled again, considering his liability
to nestle against anything or anyone
that is soft enough, which when besotted
could very well be as flat as a floor. jason
had fun with styling it, either way.
though it is simply a costume for the night,
perhaps it is an unforeseen one, but jason
does not mind. nor does he mind the
thought of not having his costume recognised.
he does not mind, wherefore he bumps his
back into someone once he idles a spin, his
eyes too entranced by how the ice clinks and
mingles with fruit when stirred with his straw
to mind his steps. ]
Sorry.
[ he hurries out before he turns back around
and sees that whom he danced into is... ]
{ although he knows there is no use in doing
it, julius still tries to dry the purple hairspray
paint away from his hands by rubbing them
red against a paper towel. while the paper
does get stained, the same amount of purple
seems to stay on his pale skin, completely
ruining the look he is trying to go for…
whatever it is.
it’s worth it, though. he knows he’ll look great
this halloween, and when he picks his needle
back up again and continues on threading
pearls onto a long string he feels a spark of
anticipation buzz through his body. he looks
up at jason, who he’s seated between the legs
of, his own around his waist. jason’s chin is
stained in purple, too. but that’s what you get
if you help someone color their hair over the
edge of a bathtub, julius figures. }
Just some silver on the cheekbones and
a thin line of white under the eyes, yeah?
[ julius’ fingers tremble the pearls
onto his string while jason’s dot
the silver onto his brush, dusting
the nimiety off. he keeps his spine
bent like a lily as to properly see the
golden boy who wishes to be silver
for the night when he applies the
first stroke, lining the wing of his left
cheek and redressing their blush.
it does not make julius look washed
out, however. oh no, not at all --- jason
has not witnessed this much life in him
since they returned home from the land
of the shaking earth; since he agreed to
psychiatric treatment; since after he met
up with andrew again... julius was all
hush to him when he asked what his
halloween costume will be, but if it is
something that sparkles and glimmers,
he sure is and will be. it is easy to see
when their faces are close like this. ]
