[ Jesse's never really broken up with anyone. Most of his relationships hadn't been that serious, and those that were had ended in tragedy.
This doesn't feel any better, it turns out. Even if he's not sure if this even really is a breakup. He and Daryl had never gotten around to defining their relationship. It's not like dating any girl had ever been.
It's something, though. Something intense, and important, and his whole chest aches when he thinks of Daryl walking out that door. When he thinks of staying here alone in this apartment he'd gotten for the two of them, the one he'd meant - honestly meant - to fix up.
He hadn't fixed it up, though. He's barely managed to hang onto his job, let alone do any work on the side. All he's done is drink and smoke and go to the brothel to get fucked until he can't think anymore. Daryl deserves better than that.
He shakes his head, not understanding any more than Daryl does what the other is trying to say. He'll find someone. Of course he will. He's strong, and brave, and any inexperience he has in bed is far outmatched by his passion and assertiveness. Jesse, though? Jesse's a mess. ]
M'sorry.
[ But it's not a retraction. He's standing by what he'd said. A single tear trails down his cheek and falls, beading on the glossy varnish he'd applied so carefully to the table. Back before he threw everything away again. ]
[ For a long time it feels as though something is hanging there in the room with them, lingering and unfinished. Then Jesse apologizes and he knows that's it. It's done, whatever it was. Daryl's never known how to fight these fights and he's never wanted to. Never felt he deserved to. He'd let Jesse down, everything had gone wrong, and now here they are. Just like it always goes, he assumes.
He doesn't see the tear because he can't make himself look at him. He just nods, far too quickly after Jesse says his name, and swallows. The words take a little longer. They're finally pulled up from somewhere simple and vulnerable. ]
Yeah. Me too.
[ Just flat. Not bitter or angry, just empty. Like he should have known all of this was coming. Should have anticipated and avoided this conversation somehow. But it's too late to save any face. It's as honest as he can be. He's real damn sorry. Scared for Jesse, worried about the state he's in, knowing he's being asked not to care.
He doesn't run. He at least won't let himself do that. He nods again, slower this time, picks up his pack and laboriously lifts it and his poncho over his head to drape across his shoulders. He's stiff from having sat up the whole night. Dwelling on this.
Now that it's happened, he just feels tired. ]
Don't die. [ His worst fear for him. Somehow he feels guilty already. ] Whole thing really hurts.
[ And he just lets himself out, taking his time down the stairs and closing the door at the bottom quietly behind him. Hoping the kid knows enough to at least lock it after him. ]
[ It feels like his whole chest is constricting around his heart, squeezing the life out of it. A retraction is there, on the tip of his tongue. Wait. I'm sorry. Please, please don't go.
But it's too late for that. He sits there, unable to move, unable to speak, his expression crumpling into one of grief and despair. Daryl doesn't even see it. He picks up his things and plods out the door, each footstep echoing in the near-empty apartment. Then the door closes at the bottom of the stairs, the click clearly audible in the silence, and Jesse lets his head drop, a raw, ragged sob dredged up from deep in his chest escaping him. ]
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This doesn't feel any better, it turns out. Even if he's not sure if this even really is a breakup. He and Daryl had never gotten around to defining their relationship. It's not like dating any girl had ever been.
It's something, though. Something intense, and important, and his whole chest aches when he thinks of Daryl walking out that door. When he thinks of staying here alone in this apartment he'd gotten for the two of them, the one he'd meant - honestly meant - to fix up.
He hadn't fixed it up, though. He's barely managed to hang onto his job, let alone do any work on the side. All he's done is drink and smoke and go to the brothel to get fucked until he can't think anymore. Daryl deserves better than that.
He shakes his head, not understanding any more than Daryl does what the other is trying to say. He'll find someone. Of course he will. He's strong, and brave, and any inexperience he has in bed is far outmatched by his passion and assertiveness. Jesse, though? Jesse's a mess. ]
M'sorry.
[ But it's not a retraction. He's standing by what he'd said. A single tear trails down his cheek and falls, beading on the glossy varnish he'd applied so carefully to the table. Back before he threw everything away again. ]
I'm sorry, Daryl.
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He doesn't see the tear because he can't make himself look at him. He just nods, far too quickly after Jesse says his name, and swallows. The words take a little longer. They're finally pulled up from somewhere simple and vulnerable. ]
Yeah. Me too.
[ Just flat. Not bitter or angry, just empty. Like he should have known all of this was coming. Should have anticipated and avoided this conversation somehow. But it's too late to save any face. It's as honest as he can be. He's real damn sorry. Scared for Jesse, worried about the state he's in, knowing he's being asked not to care.
He doesn't run. He at least won't let himself do that. He nods again, slower this time, picks up his pack and laboriously lifts it and his poncho over his head to drape across his shoulders. He's stiff from having sat up the whole night. Dwelling on this.
Now that it's happened, he just feels tired. ]
Don't die. [ His worst fear for him. Somehow he feels guilty already. ] Whole thing really hurts.
[ And he just lets himself out, taking his time down the stairs and closing the door at the bottom quietly behind him. Hoping the kid knows enough to at least lock it after him. ]
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But it's too late for that. He sits there, unable to move, unable to speak, his expression crumpling into one of grief and despair. Daryl doesn't even see it. He picks up his things and plods out the door, each footstep echoing in the near-empty apartment. Then the door closes at the bottom of the stairs, the click clearly audible in the silence, and Jesse lets his head drop, a raw, ragged sob dredged up from deep in his chest escaping him. ]