Lee and Jer, cont'd.
Dec. 29th, 2009 10:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maculategiraffeFirst of all, OMG this is so much fun. It correctly guessed Luna Lovegood, Howard Roark, River Tam, Peter Pan, Sandman's Delirium, Violet Baudelaire, Tara from Buffy, Rikku from Final Fantasy X, Yangus from Dragon Quest VIII, and Joseph (of the coat of many colors) in a scant handful of yes-or-no questions. I did stump it with Little Lord Fauntleroy (though it guessed Charlie Bucket and then Oliver Twist, so given the information in its database that was pretty good) and Harriet Vane (it guessed Eliza Doolittle, heh) but I've entered those characters into its database now, which I love that you can do.
Second, I kind of didn't want to stop writing after that Lee/Jer drabble, so, uh, here.
The door to the bedroom that had been Jer's-- still was, going on Holden's "he's in his room"-- was open. Lee walked in.
Jer was lying on his back on the bed. He looked up, but didn't move as Lee came in and sat down next to him.
"What's going on?" Lee asked after a moment.
"I got your letter," said Jer flatly.
"Which letter?"
Jer just looked at him.
"Are you mad at me?" Lee asked nervously. "What did I say?"
"Fuck," said Jer, and put his arm over his eyes. "You really don't know, do you?"
Lee shook his head. "Jer, I-- if you're mad at me, just tell me what's wrong."
"I'm not mad at you," said Jer without taking his arm away from his eyes. "Lee-- baby-- of course I'm not."
"Then what?" Lee took Jer's wrist and pulled his arm away from his face. "What's wrong, Jer? I didn't even know you were here until Bran called me and said you'd been here a week. You didn't call me, you didn't come see us, you just-- what am I supposed to think? What letter? The one with the photograph?"
"The photograph was adorable," said Jer, smiling a little. "Thanks."
Lee didn't smile back; instead he looked around the room until he saw the leather bag hanging on the inside doorknob. He got up and went to the bag, and rummaged through it until he found the last letter he'd sent Jer, addressed in his own careful, rounded writing. He slid it out of the envelope-- the photograph was gone-- and read it, silently and quickly, to himself. When he was finished, he looked up at Jer.
"I don't get it," he said.
"Read it out loud," said Jer. "Go ahead."
"Dear Jer," Lee read obediently. "Mona has borrowed a camera from one of her school friends, so I asked her to take a picture of me so I could send you one. Here it is. I hope you enjoy it.
"I definitely like being photographed by Mona more than I liked being photographed by Miss Trask. Of course, when Miss Trask was photographing me I didn't like anyone to look at me anyway. I like to be looked at now, it makes a big difference when everyone keeps calling you beautiful all the time. Although my father used to call me beautiful too, but it wasn't the same. It's different when you trust the person. And love the person. Though maybe I loved my father after all. Mona says loving someone means wanting the best for him, and I did want to be good for my father, I wanted to make him happy. I never did, though. I wish I could have. I don't think he loved me, but maybe that wasn't his fault."
He stopped reading and looked up at Jer, who hadn't moved.
"I didn't realize how rambly I get," he said, embarrassed.
"I love your rambling," said Jer. "I love your letters. Even this one. Keep going."
Lee looked back down at the letter.
"I miss you already. You never stay long enough. But I know you stay long enough for you, and I guess that is what matters. I'm glad you get to do what you want, now that you are free. I do love you, and I want the best for you. I want you to be happy. Even if it means I don't get to see you as much as I want. I guess that is part of me, that I don't mind getting hurt if it's for a good reason. Even with my father I think I wouldn't have minded if it had really made him happy, to do what he did to me."
Jer rolled over on his face and put his arms over his head.
"Jer," said Lee. "What?"
Jer didn't move.
"I didn't mean it in a bad way," said Lee. "I mean it, I'm glad-- Jer, can you hear me?"
"Yeah," said Jer, his voice muffled into the pillow.
"I'm glad you're happy," said Lee. "I'm glad you're doing what-- Jer? I didn't mean to sound all whiny. Was that what made you mad?"
Jer rolled over again and sat up; his face was blotched with red and looked about as utterly miserable as Lee had ever seen him.
"You know, this actually makes it even worse," he said. "You weren't even trying to make me feel lower than shit. You just-- Lee, are you seriously not getting what's fucking me up about this? You don't mind getting hurt if it's making me happy? Just like with your father?"
"I didn't mean you were like my father," Lee protested. "You're-- come on, Jer, you know that wasn't what I meant."
"That's what you fucking said," said Jer. "I'm making you miserable, but it's okay because you love me, just like you loved your father."
The venom in the last word could have dropped an ox; as he pronounced it, Jer curled his hands into fists, and Lee could hear his teeth grinding.
"I didn't say that," he said in a small voice; he wasn't afraid of Jer, but he still couldn't face his rage with perfect equanimity. Jer looked at him, then took a deep breath and held out his hands. Lee stepped forward readily and climbed back onto the bed; Jer put his arms around him and hugged him tightly.
"I'm not mad at you," he said, next to Lee's ear. "I'm sorry. I'm just so fucking sorry. I never meant to hurt you."
"You don't hurt me," Lee whispered, nestling closer into Jer's arms. "You don't."
"Don't start lying now," said Jer. "Just to make me feel better. I hurt you every time I see you. Every time I leave."
Lee wanted to argue, but it took him awhile before he could think how.
"You don't owe me--" he began, and stopped, frustrated, pulling away. Jer let go, and Lee sat back on the bed, looking at Jer's knee instead of his face. "I mean-- not being there-- with someone-- or staying as long as they want-- that isn't the same. Jer, it's not the same at all, you know it's not. It's not hurting someone. You know that."
"I don't know that," said Jer, angry again. "I do not fucking know that. I've had people I loved leave me, and it wasn't even their choice, and I damn near died of it. And I do it to you over and over. And you just take it. Like you took it from your dad."
"It's not the same," Lee insisted.
"It is," said Jer. "You don't even get it. You're too fucked up."
Lee stared at Jer. After a minute, he said quietly, "Maybe I am. But so are you."
"I know that," said Jer between his teeth. "You think I don't know that? What, does that make it better? I'm fucked up so I'm a complete prick to you, and you're fucked up so you'll never call me on it. Not on purpose. You didn't even mean to call me on it in that fucking letter, you didn't even know what you were saying, did you? Or you didn't think I'd care."
"That's not fair," said Lee, his voice shaking with frustration.
Jer did look at him, then, and reached out to cup one of Lee's shoulders in his big, warm hand. Lee felt the hand trembling against him.
"I'm sorry," said Jer, and his voice was shaking, too. "I'm just so fucking stupid."
"You're not," said Lee fiercely. "And it's stupid to say it's like my dad, because I was just a kid, when I was with my dad. I'm not a kid any more. And I'm free. I can decide what-- what's worth it."
"So can I," said Jer, and took his hand off Lee. "And it's not worth it. Not to me."
Lee gasped, his heart spasming violently in his chest.
"I mean it," said Jer. "I can't keep doing this. Even if it did make me happy. And it fucking doesn't, you know. I wake up in the morning next to some stranger and it makes me sick because it isn't you. I put off checking my mail because I can't stand it if I check and there's no letter from you. I come back because I can't fucking stay away. It's not because of you. I mean, I don't even do it for you. I do it because if I don't hop a train back home-- to you-- I'm going to jump on the fucking tracks and put myself out of my misery. And then I leave again."
Lee swallowed, and his voice came out as a whisper when he said. "So stay."
When Jer didn't answer, Lee reached out and took both of Jer's wrists in his hands, opening Jer's arms, scooting in between them, and then closing them again around his body. Jer didn't take them away.
"Stay," he whispered again. "Stay with me. I love you. Stay."
Instead of answering, Jer moaned, not loudly but as though in mortal agony, his arms tightening around Lee.
"Stay," said Lee again, pressing what he hoped desperately was his advantage. "Jer-- I love you so much-- stay with me-- don't leave me-- come live with me-- come live with me and Andrei and Mona-- please--"
"I can't!" Jer cried. "I can't do that, Lee, I can't, I can't live like that, not again, with some fucking nobleman, you don't understand--"
"Andrei is good!" Lee interrupted. "You like Andrei!"
"Andrei is made of candyfloss and ginger kittens," said Jer unsteadily, and a bubble of laughter burst in Lee's throat before he knew what was happening, even as Jer added, "That's not the point."
"Yes it is!" Lee made a fist and hit Jer's shoulder without pulling away. "We're not slaves any more-- you're not-- and he's not the master. We're just people, we just-- we're just people now!"
Jer said nothing.
"With people," said Lee, trying to stay calm enough to make himself understood, "that is what matters. It's different with-- owners. But nobody owns us now. We get to decide. About people. And it's new for me-- and maybe I'm fucking it up-- I am fucked up, I know that, you think I don't know that? But so are you-- and you know what, so is Andrei, from the way he grew up, or something, he has-- he has issues, I've been finding that out, I spook him sometimes, and I'm-- But he loves you, Jer, he really does, he loves having you here and he loves me and he loves how happy I am when you're around-- and so we're all fucked up and we all make each other happy and so why can't we fucking live together, why why why?"
Jer's whole body was trembling against Lee's, and for awhile he didn't say anything.
Then he said, "I'd have to get a job."
Lee sat up and grabbed Jer's shoulders's, staring into his face, barely breathing. Jer's eyes were off somewhere, not meeting his.
"I'm not living off Andrei," he went on. "I have been doing-- a few things-- here and there-- I've got some money saved-- but I was kind of thinking I might use that for-- something else. Later. I know I can get a job, though. I have. In factories and shit, there's plenty of unskilled labor jobs out there. If you're good at putting your head down and doing as you're told."
His eyes came back to Lee's face as he said haltingly, "And that's different-- when you're getting paid-- when you can walk away-- I know what you mean, Lee. It is different now. With-- just people. But I still don't know if you're right. You're just a dumb kid, you know? You're just making this whole thing up, just like me."
"Yeah," said Lee; it came out as a breathy croak. "I know."
"But," said Jer. "I can-- try. With you. Okay, Lee. Okay."
Lee put his arms around Jer's neck as the flood of tears broke, and Jer held him close, kissing his ear, whispering, "What, baby? What are you crying about?"
"I never won before," said Lee, and swallowed a sob; he made a fist again and punched Jer's back. "I win."
Second, I kind of didn't want to stop writing after that Lee/Jer drabble, so, uh, here.
The door to the bedroom that had been Jer's-- still was, going on Holden's "he's in his room"-- was open. Lee walked in.
Jer was lying on his back on the bed. He looked up, but didn't move as Lee came in and sat down next to him.
"What's going on?" Lee asked after a moment.
"I got your letter," said Jer flatly.
"Which letter?"
Jer just looked at him.
"Are you mad at me?" Lee asked nervously. "What did I say?"
"Fuck," said Jer, and put his arm over his eyes. "You really don't know, do you?"
Lee shook his head. "Jer, I-- if you're mad at me, just tell me what's wrong."
"I'm not mad at you," said Jer without taking his arm away from his eyes. "Lee-- baby-- of course I'm not."
"Then what?" Lee took Jer's wrist and pulled his arm away from his face. "What's wrong, Jer? I didn't even know you were here until Bran called me and said you'd been here a week. You didn't call me, you didn't come see us, you just-- what am I supposed to think? What letter? The one with the photograph?"
"The photograph was adorable," said Jer, smiling a little. "Thanks."
Lee didn't smile back; instead he looked around the room until he saw the leather bag hanging on the inside doorknob. He got up and went to the bag, and rummaged through it until he found the last letter he'd sent Jer, addressed in his own careful, rounded writing. He slid it out of the envelope-- the photograph was gone-- and read it, silently and quickly, to himself. When he was finished, he looked up at Jer.
"I don't get it," he said.
"Read it out loud," said Jer. "Go ahead."
"Dear Jer," Lee read obediently. "Mona has borrowed a camera from one of her school friends, so I asked her to take a picture of me so I could send you one. Here it is. I hope you enjoy it.
"I definitely like being photographed by Mona more than I liked being photographed by Miss Trask. Of course, when Miss Trask was photographing me I didn't like anyone to look at me anyway. I like to be looked at now, it makes a big difference when everyone keeps calling you beautiful all the time. Although my father used to call me beautiful too, but it wasn't the same. It's different when you trust the person. And love the person. Though maybe I loved my father after all. Mona says loving someone means wanting the best for him, and I did want to be good for my father, I wanted to make him happy. I never did, though. I wish I could have. I don't think he loved me, but maybe that wasn't his fault."
He stopped reading and looked up at Jer, who hadn't moved.
"I didn't realize how rambly I get," he said, embarrassed.
"I love your rambling," said Jer. "I love your letters. Even this one. Keep going."
Lee looked back down at the letter.
"I miss you already. You never stay long enough. But I know you stay long enough for you, and I guess that is what matters. I'm glad you get to do what you want, now that you are free. I do love you, and I want the best for you. I want you to be happy. Even if it means I don't get to see you as much as I want. I guess that is part of me, that I don't mind getting hurt if it's for a good reason. Even with my father I think I wouldn't have minded if it had really made him happy, to do what he did to me."
Jer rolled over on his face and put his arms over his head.
"Jer," said Lee. "What?"
Jer didn't move.
"I didn't mean it in a bad way," said Lee. "I mean it, I'm glad-- Jer, can you hear me?"
"Yeah," said Jer, his voice muffled into the pillow.
"I'm glad you're happy," said Lee. "I'm glad you're doing what-- Jer? I didn't mean to sound all whiny. Was that what made you mad?"
Jer rolled over again and sat up; his face was blotched with red and looked about as utterly miserable as Lee had ever seen him.
"You know, this actually makes it even worse," he said. "You weren't even trying to make me feel lower than shit. You just-- Lee, are you seriously not getting what's fucking me up about this? You don't mind getting hurt if it's making me happy? Just like with your father?"
"I didn't mean you were like my father," Lee protested. "You're-- come on, Jer, you know that wasn't what I meant."
"That's what you fucking said," said Jer. "I'm making you miserable, but it's okay because you love me, just like you loved your father."
The venom in the last word could have dropped an ox; as he pronounced it, Jer curled his hands into fists, and Lee could hear his teeth grinding.
"I didn't say that," he said in a small voice; he wasn't afraid of Jer, but he still couldn't face his rage with perfect equanimity. Jer looked at him, then took a deep breath and held out his hands. Lee stepped forward readily and climbed back onto the bed; Jer put his arms around him and hugged him tightly.
"I'm not mad at you," he said, next to Lee's ear. "I'm sorry. I'm just so fucking sorry. I never meant to hurt you."
"You don't hurt me," Lee whispered, nestling closer into Jer's arms. "You don't."
"Don't start lying now," said Jer. "Just to make me feel better. I hurt you every time I see you. Every time I leave."
Lee wanted to argue, but it took him awhile before he could think how.
"You don't owe me--" he began, and stopped, frustrated, pulling away. Jer let go, and Lee sat back on the bed, looking at Jer's knee instead of his face. "I mean-- not being there-- with someone-- or staying as long as they want-- that isn't the same. Jer, it's not the same at all, you know it's not. It's not hurting someone. You know that."
"I don't know that," said Jer, angry again. "I do not fucking know that. I've had people I loved leave me, and it wasn't even their choice, and I damn near died of it. And I do it to you over and over. And you just take it. Like you took it from your dad."
"It's not the same," Lee insisted.
"It is," said Jer. "You don't even get it. You're too fucked up."
Lee stared at Jer. After a minute, he said quietly, "Maybe I am. But so are you."
"I know that," said Jer between his teeth. "You think I don't know that? What, does that make it better? I'm fucked up so I'm a complete prick to you, and you're fucked up so you'll never call me on it. Not on purpose. You didn't even mean to call me on it in that fucking letter, you didn't even know what you were saying, did you? Or you didn't think I'd care."
"That's not fair," said Lee, his voice shaking with frustration.
Jer did look at him, then, and reached out to cup one of Lee's shoulders in his big, warm hand. Lee felt the hand trembling against him.
"I'm sorry," said Jer, and his voice was shaking, too. "I'm just so fucking stupid."
"You're not," said Lee fiercely. "And it's stupid to say it's like my dad, because I was just a kid, when I was with my dad. I'm not a kid any more. And I'm free. I can decide what-- what's worth it."
"So can I," said Jer, and took his hand off Lee. "And it's not worth it. Not to me."
Lee gasped, his heart spasming violently in his chest.
"I mean it," said Jer. "I can't keep doing this. Even if it did make me happy. And it fucking doesn't, you know. I wake up in the morning next to some stranger and it makes me sick because it isn't you. I put off checking my mail because I can't stand it if I check and there's no letter from you. I come back because I can't fucking stay away. It's not because of you. I mean, I don't even do it for you. I do it because if I don't hop a train back home-- to you-- I'm going to jump on the fucking tracks and put myself out of my misery. And then I leave again."
Lee swallowed, and his voice came out as a whisper when he said. "So stay."
When Jer didn't answer, Lee reached out and took both of Jer's wrists in his hands, opening Jer's arms, scooting in between them, and then closing them again around his body. Jer didn't take them away.
"Stay," he whispered again. "Stay with me. I love you. Stay."
Instead of answering, Jer moaned, not loudly but as though in mortal agony, his arms tightening around Lee.
"Stay," said Lee again, pressing what he hoped desperately was his advantage. "Jer-- I love you so much-- stay with me-- don't leave me-- come live with me-- come live with me and Andrei and Mona-- please--"
"I can't!" Jer cried. "I can't do that, Lee, I can't, I can't live like that, not again, with some fucking nobleman, you don't understand--"
"Andrei is good!" Lee interrupted. "You like Andrei!"
"Andrei is made of candyfloss and ginger kittens," said Jer unsteadily, and a bubble of laughter burst in Lee's throat before he knew what was happening, even as Jer added, "That's not the point."
"Yes it is!" Lee made a fist and hit Jer's shoulder without pulling away. "We're not slaves any more-- you're not-- and he's not the master. We're just people, we just-- we're just people now!"
Jer said nothing.
"With people," said Lee, trying to stay calm enough to make himself understood, "that is what matters. It's different with-- owners. But nobody owns us now. We get to decide. About people. And it's new for me-- and maybe I'm fucking it up-- I am fucked up, I know that, you think I don't know that? But so are you-- and you know what, so is Andrei, from the way he grew up, or something, he has-- he has issues, I've been finding that out, I spook him sometimes, and I'm-- But he loves you, Jer, he really does, he loves having you here and he loves me and he loves how happy I am when you're around-- and so we're all fucked up and we all make each other happy and so why can't we fucking live together, why why why?"
Jer's whole body was trembling against Lee's, and for awhile he didn't say anything.
Then he said, "I'd have to get a job."
Lee sat up and grabbed Jer's shoulders's, staring into his face, barely breathing. Jer's eyes were off somewhere, not meeting his.
"I'm not living off Andrei," he went on. "I have been doing-- a few things-- here and there-- I've got some money saved-- but I was kind of thinking I might use that for-- something else. Later. I know I can get a job, though. I have. In factories and shit, there's plenty of unskilled labor jobs out there. If you're good at putting your head down and doing as you're told."
His eyes came back to Lee's face as he said haltingly, "And that's different-- when you're getting paid-- when you can walk away-- I know what you mean, Lee. It is different now. With-- just people. But I still don't know if you're right. You're just a dumb kid, you know? You're just making this whole thing up, just like me."
"Yeah," said Lee; it came out as a breathy croak. "I know."
"But," said Jer. "I can-- try. With you. Okay, Lee. Okay."
Lee put his arms around Jer's neck as the flood of tears broke, and Jer held him close, kissing his ear, whispering, "What, baby? What are you crying about?"
"I never won before," said Lee, and swallowed a sob; he made a fist again and punched Jer's back. "I win."
