#m;jamie

[foxymuses]

“decaf is a lie and doesn’t count as real coffee. no i don’t accept criticisms.”

[maniacollisionarchive-blog]

it’s not unusual that he can’t sleep, but it’s odd that he finds himself on a park bench playing absently with a lighter at three in the morning, an untouched pack of cigarettes sitting beside him. 

[foxymuses]

“okay but theoretically speaking, how many skipped classes is too many?”

[foxymuses]

@ruinousaltruism liked for a short lyric starter thing for jamie!

“me, i’m not a gamble. you can count on me to split.”

[foxymuses]

“i didn’t do that. you saw nothing.”

[foxymuses]

@corruptaxpoliticus​ sent: “we can talk through the door.” ( @ adult jamie )

he’s having a panic attack. they’re far less common these days, which means that when they do happen, they’re worse. and jamie doesn’t need mycroft here, he can handle this by himself. god knows he’s been doing it since he was 18. but mycroft is here, and so jamie had made a half hearted excuse to lock himself in the bathroom, and he knows the other man means well, that he wants to help, but jamie can’t let anyone in anymore. nobody wants to help him really, especially once they’ve learned why he’s like this in the first place. so maybe mycroft truly does want to help at the moment, but if he found out -- god if he found out what’s causing the static in jamie’s head, the tremble in his fingers, he’d probably think jamie deserved it. he does deserve it. the man covers his ears, hides his face in his knees, responds to the offer with silence.

[foxymuses]

@corruptaxpoliticus​ sent: “don’t do that. don’t shut me out.” ( @ bby jamie )

he doesn’t know why he bothered coming to class today. he’s exhausted, he’s irritated, he’s sore, university chairs exacerbating the bruise on his ribs. the classroom is stifling, especially in his long sleeves, but he’s got a hand print on his wrist to explain the ribs and he doesn’t really feel like explaining it to anyone. especially not mycroft. he must’ve started dozing off because next thing he knows, he’s blinking awake to an empty classroom and a concerned face and jamie scowls. stands up too quick, swings his bag over his shoulder too abruptly, and can’t stop before he’s wincing. shit. jamie tries to ignore it, brushing past the other with barely a glance, fingers already digging in his pocket for his cigarettes, tossing a “fuck off” over his shoulder as he heads for the door. he’s not in the mood to do this today, and anyway, he didn’t shut mycroft out. mycroft tossed him to the wolves. he doesn’t get a say in jamie’s life anymore.

[foxymuses]

@corruptaxpoliticus​ sent: “ nothing, i… i just wanted to say that i was, uh… that i’m sorry. about everything.” ( @ adult jamie )

the man offers a soft smile. it still hurts -- of course it does. jamie carries the pain of everything that’s happened to him. he doesn’t know how to let it go, only to push it down where nobody can see it. a slow self-destruction, which, as a teen, would’ve have reflected clearly in his features for mycroft to see. he would’ve had something bitter to say, a self-deprecating comment to make. but now, through the years of wishing for death yet persisting through the horror of his life, through losing anything he’s ever tried to keep -- now his mask is solid, bullet proof. the self-loathing happens quietly when he’s alone, the bitterness hidden by the sweetness of his coffee on his tongue. 

a soft smile on a face that shows forgiveness and means it, tone softer still as he laughs lightly. “there’s nothing to be sorry for, love.” true, for all the chaos of his life at university, he’s sure that he’s only still alive because someone like mycroft cared about him. it may have been just a passing moment for the older man’s life, but it was foundational for jamie’s. a kindness at a critical point in time, even if it was tinged with regret, heartbreak, secrecy. that’s not worth an apology. “i’m glad to see you’re doing well.”