people will talk

He can feel the all-too-familiar swelling of rage curling in his stomach. It makes him clench his jaw, makes his fingers twitch. Never has he been rational, even before the memory loss. He would get angry and violent without much cause, throwing punches at people, sometimes just for the hell of it. (He never could figure out if he was angry because he’s Wrath, or if he’s Wrath because he’s angry.) Something stops him from grabbing the other’s head and smashing it onto the table, but he does make his voice sound as dangerous as he can. “Leave. Now. Or bad things.”

"No." Jeremy could be just as stubborn. It was one of the few stereotypical traits he had from being rich. "We're...together." He was determined. A man on a mission. "Not leaving without you." So hit him. Throw a punch. He could take it. (He couldn't, but he could pretend he could right up until the moment he actually got hit.)

His smile blooms into something affectionate and disbelieving. There’s not a trace of anger in him. (If he gave it much thought, it would worry him. Taking away the very thing that binds him together is a recipe for disaster.)

"I like your smile," he pointed out, grin still in place. He hummed a little in thought. "You smile and the clouds part To make way for the rays of sun. You're fun, courageous and smart Awfully glad I found someone."

headcanon;

jeremy likes selfies. like, a lot. the easiest way to amuse him is through the medium of a selfie. give him a camera phone and the impetus and you'd soon find him complaining that the memory's full up of his face.

#poet's life

"No." The worst part about this is how disconnected he feels. There’s not a single cell in his body telling him that he misses what he supposedly had. He’d be perfectly okay with leaving this stranger behind if his mind wasn’t being bitter of the memory loss. "Leave." Tonight he’s going to get very drunk.

"No." He didn't even try and keep the bite out of his words that time. "No." He's not going anywhere. He won't go anywhere. He's confused and he's not sure what's happening, but he doesn't want to leave Doyle. His only guess would be that he hit his head and lost his memory or something, but he wasn't going. They could sort this. Then the could laugh again and be happy and not be...this.

just-a-little-bit-of-your-heart

#poet's mirror

matt-dallas-only-deactivated201

#poet's mirror #jeremy on his travels

A yawn as he looked across the park, pen poised above his page. But the words weren't coming. Not surprising, really. "Sucks."

#open rp

"I’m foreign, I have an excuse." He’s having fun with someone who isn’t Gi or Gabriel. This is new.

"Rich. My excuse." It wasn't even an excuse, just a joke.

"Rosie. Hello."

"Hi Jeremy…how are you?"

Rosie looked puzzled, “Not at all…you?”

"I mean...he'll like you." He smiled then, trying to smooth it out.

#musicalsweethearts

"Since I was born. You talk funny." This is like a breath of fresh air.

"You talk funny." He's far too immature for this conversation.

"No. Can you?"

He's smiling. Should he find that funny? "You're blind."

"Rosie. Hello."

"Hi Jeremy…how are you?"

I met him one day when he was watching a strange TV show. We clicked and well I’m getting to know him and his daughter as we work together. He’s really sweet and like I’m totally into him but I’m scared.

He nodded as he listened, a smile spreading. "Go for it. Don't be scared. Not all...me."

#musicalsweethearts

He likes when people don’t instantly know he’s blind. “What colour are they?”

"Brown. You can't see?"

sweetsxlence

"I like your shoes."

He looked down then back at the stranger. "Thank...you?"

He reaches into his pocket for his phone, deliberately making the movements as slow as possible. He doesn’t want to be proved wrong, and he doesn’t want to be proved right. Isn’t that just fucked up? Shakily, he flicks through his photos and comes across their picture together. What e sees feels like a knife to his stomach. “I. Look happy.”

"You are." Alright perhaps the snap in those words weren't deserving. He took a deep breath. Try again. "We are," he said softer. "You don't remember?" A single tear was let loose and rolled down his face. He gulped and tried his hardest to not let any more out.

"Rosie. Hello."

"Hi Jeremy…how are you?"

"Oh Italy…Sort of? It’s been good getting to know him. His name is Evan."

He let out a short laugh. "Tell me everything."

#musicalsweethearts

He figures that since it’s on his phone, he has the power to delete it should he feel the need. So he smiles properly. “Okay. Smile.” And then he takes the photo.

He looked across at Doyle and was amazed by his actual smile. It was amazing, in his mind, absolutely fantastic. So Jeremy planted a quick kiss on Doyle's lips then pulled back and grinned.