kore_logs | I like to keep my issues drawn

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I like to keep my issues drawn

Who: Jesse and OPEN
What: The best way for Jesse Finch to (healthily) get his anxieties out is by drawing and painting. Which means he's out spray painting and mural-ing (and not punching in windows). Feel free to run into him anytime, during any sort of painting!
Where: All over town
When: Day 74

Jesse is finally starting to feel normal again.

He can sleep without six or seven nightmares a night, he feels comfortable in his own bed, he doesn't have to cover the cameras - he feels at ease, and it's nice. It's something he just wants to forget, now. And the best way, he's found, is to draw it out. But today, paper isn't cutting it. He wants a bigger canvas, he wants bigger tools, and he wants more of the feeling he'd gotten when he'd tagged with Pinkman, before.

So he sets out to do that. He looks better than he has, well-fed, in less layers and without the hunched shoulders and anxious expression that's been the norm lately. People will find him all over town, hood pulled up, the sound of spray paint cans being shaken constantly, covering the walls in all sorts of art. Mostly of birds. Because Finch. Get it?

Those around the fountain will find, on a wall, the words Before I Die, I Want To: with a box of broken chalk next to it. Jesse will be nearby, painting something else - he's curious to see the answers.

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"Sorry to hear that," Ned says, sobering a little when Jesse tells him he isn't in control of his power at the moment. If he gained control of his own powers, at some point, only to lose it later, he would be taking it a whole lot worse than Jesse. And the way he describes his power is... interesting. Ned had never given much thought, until recently, about the little ways in which his power changes his sensory experience of the world. Jesse describes his own powers as it they were a separate, sentient thing, trapped within his body. That isn't at all an experience Ned can relate to, personally.

But that thought is waylaid when Jesse says that he was given his powers. A tiny crease forms between Ned's brows.

"Gave... how?" He doesn't understand how such a thing would be possible. "It was an experiment? Like when you got turned into a werewolf, only it stuck around?"

Maybe because he'd obtained it rather than discovered it, maybe it's because he's only had a short time with it - but it's much more like a tool than an extension of himself. Like a hammer he's still clumsily wielding. It still buzzes in his skull and he has a hard time forgetting about it, sometimes. Especially when he's agitated.

He isn't agitated now, but he's definitely aware.

"Sorta," Jesse shrugs. "This guy, he was going around callin' himself Lucifer, I guess. He came up t'me and offered t'give me the ability to protect my friends after we talked a bit. I didn't sell my soul or nothing, either, he just gave 'em out." Sniff.

"Oh."

Well, setting aside the whole Lucifer thing (since it was obviously a name assumed for dramatic flair and nothing like the real thing - Ned categorically refuses to believe otherwise), that information still changes matters. Jesse's electricity is a power that was given to him by some external force - it isn't the first time in the past few days that Ned has heard about such a thing being possible, but he still cannot fathom it. Particularly not from Jesse, who had experienced first-hand how dangerous such powers can be, when Galen's dream-walking had gone all wrong. And yet he had still chosen this.

Ned knows that confusion (and perhaps even hurt) must be showing on his face, but he can't quite manage to find anything to say. "Oh," he repeats, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck, "Right."

Well, that's awkward. Jesse pauses, taking in the expression on Ned's face, and - now he's agitated. Because this is why he didn't tell anybody. He didn't want anybody to know because everybody here hates having powers, hates - having the ability to protect other people or the ability to do something different at all. All Jesse wants is to be able to make sure Galen will be okay. And he can't do that as a normal human. He'd almost gotten torn apart by a tiger, the last time he'd tried.

Everybody, Bruce, Kenzi, Galen and now Ned, have reacted this way, and Jesse sort of shuts off and scrunches away. His fingers spark once and he hurriedly grabs at his spray paint again to turn to the wall. Just. Go back to this. He doesn't even know what to say.

"Crap." That's right, Jesse. Ned just swore a little bit. That's how quickly he realizes his mistake.

Jesse might not have said anything in his own defense, but he doesn't have to. Ned knows what that body language means. He's seen it in the mirror too often to mistake it for anything else. His own tepid-to-disapproving reaction has brushed against a nerve and now Jesse is in pain and curling into himself against it.

"I'm sorry. Jesse?" For once it is Ned, trying to get Jesse to make eye contact, without intruding in his space to do so. "I just- I didn't know what to say."

Jesse must be very upset, if his fingers are sparking like that, out of his control. Ned feels the guilt in his gut twist tighter, voice speeding up as he rambles his apology, "I don't think it's a bad thing. That you have a power like that. Especially since it's- you said it's useful, right? You can use it to… to stay safe? And control it, if you work at it? That's good."

He wants Jesse to feel safe, to feel in control. He knows that Jesse hasn't been feeling a whole lot of either of those things, since he died. Tentatively, Ned reaches over, not wanting to startle him, and puts a hand on Jesse's shoulder. Touch is comforting to Jesse, and it's a concession he's willing to make, right now.

"I was just surprised, I guess, because-" Ned falters, briefly, has to swallow before he goes on, "-because I've spent so long wishing I could get rid of mine. Not be a freak, you know?"

Now that he's gotten going he can't seem to stop himself, "Jesse, there've been… some really terrible things have happened. To me. Because of what I am. So it's hard to imagine wanting something like that. But you're not me, and I'm not you, and your power isn't my power, so I shouldn't let my own issues get in the way of-" Of what? "-of being a good friend."

It's so stupid, because before - before, Jesse would have shouted, or argued. He would've been mad, that someone tried to tell him he was wrong, but lately, he can't do much but cower at everything. Sure, he's getting better, he's crawling back up to standing, but little things like this, and his stupid fight with Pinkman earlier, gnaws at him.

He twitches when Ned puts a hand on his shoulder - not quite a flinch, but he isn't expecting it. He doesn't push it away or anything, just stares at the wall and doesn't look at Ned. Until he calls himself a freak, and Jesse scowls, looking straight at him. Nope. Nobody gets to talk shit about his friends, not even his friends themselves. That's a mighty, mighty scowl on Jesse's face, now.

"You ain't a freak," Jesse tells him sharply. He is upset, and he's holding it in like he always does, which means the buzzing under his skin is even worse. "You are not a fuckin' freak, so don't call yourself that."

He turns to face Ned fully, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. This has been building, observations of all the little comments and movements and things that make up Ned. "I dunno what happened t'you, and I dunno what you think you've done or how shitty you think of yourself, but if I ain't getting to be a shit about myself, then you don't neither. Christ, between you and Pinkman, we got a goddamn shitty fucked up emotions Olympics going." That - got out of hand, and Jesse takes a deep breath, reaching up to rub at his face. "... You ain't a freak. I'm not a freak. We're not freaks."

Wow, Jesse, that is a pretty fearsome scowl. Ned can't meet Jesse's eyes, lets his hand drop quickly from the Jesse's shoulder. He'd meant well, but clearly he'd said the wrong thing, again, done the wrong thing in reaching out. He'd made it even worse, in that delightful way he so often does. Now Jesse isn't just mad because of the situation, he's mad at Ned. Funny how he could have conflated the two, earlier. This is so much worse.

He chews on the inside of his lip, listens to what Jesse says with as impassive an expression as he can muster. There's something in the way he immediately uses that confidence (and it had been hard, even admitting that much out loud), the way he hurls it back in Ned's face, which hits him like a knife to the chest.

It's not a question of what he thinks he's done; it's a question of what he did. Does Jesse believe he is just standing here, dreaming up false burdens to weigh himself down? Jesse is right that he doesn't know the details, and Ned is fervently glad, because he can hear the unspoken but it doesn't matter in that sentence, and it does matter, to Ned. Deeply. His individual experiences, the ones that Jesse dismisses so brusquely, are what led him to call himself that particular word, and what led him to be surprised at Jesse's choice to make himself an outsider. They are anything but irrelevant.

And, he thinks - suddenly, hotly - does Jesse really have that right, to declare himself not a freak on the same level that he does? Jesse's lived with his powers for less than a month: powers that he chose of his own free will. Ned never had that option. He's lived the last twenty years of his life constantly aware of his fundamental difference. Torn apart by what he'd done and by the sick dread that he'd hurt more people if he weren't careful. Worried that he might not even be a human being. Terrified that any day he might be discovered and subjected to any number of horrors.

He doesn't want to think of himself as a freak, has made more progress than he ever thought he would towards changing that way of labeling himself. But it isn't easy. Jesse has no right, none at all, to judge him for calling himself whatever the fuck he wants.

But, in his usual fashion, Ned's initial reaction never reaches the surface. A tide of self-doubt overtakes it. He's letting himself get too upset, when Jesse is his friend and just wants the best for him. Shouldn't he be grateful he has a friend at all? Who is he to pick apart Jesse's tone or his word choices, to insist that it isn't his place to criticize when, powers or no powers, he doesn't know what it's like to be a real monster - not the way Ned knows, or Erik knows, or River knows? He's the one who started this fight in the first place. How can he hold it against Jesse for being angry when he's clearly an infuriating person to speak to?

"Sorry," he says, very quietly, "You're right. I shouldn't have said that." He tries a smile, but it's a woeful failure. "Old habits die hard."

It doesn't solve anything. None of it solves anything and Jesse's no savant of body language, but he can tell he didn't help. He knows when people are agreeing to agree, to placate, because he does it all the time himself. And something in him tells him you need to be patient because this sort of stuff doesn't change over night. You can't change what other people think about themselves. Only they can.

Neither of them are freaks. Not because of the powers. Because they're decent human beings. Jesse knows he is, knows he tries to be, and that has to count for something. Because he sure as fuck knows Ned tries. He knows Pinkman tries. They all want to be good people, but wall after wall of awful events, awful circumstances, awful actions, bad choices and shitty mistakes - it hinders that.

Because you don't have to have super powers to feel like a monster.

He's just barely started to try and forgive himself. He's been trying since he got clean, two years ago. It's hard, and a lot of the time Jesse doesn't think he deserves it, but - other people do. Ned does. Pinkman does. They deserve to know and accept that someone, even if it's a shitty someone, thinks they're a good person.

Right now, he knows he's making things worse, but he's angry, and he can't stop being angry. Once you get him going, it just builds - and that means that his hands are sparking like crazy. He has to drop them from his face, to avoid sparking himself - because all of a sudden he feels out of control again and he hates feeling this way. He hates things out of his control.

"Son of a fucking bitch," Jesse swears sharply, because it hurts, the vibration under his skin aching to get out. He shakes his hands a little frantically at his sides, like he'd just touched something hot. "Look. Look, I just. You ain't gonna see it just 'cause I said so, I know. S'different to not say it but just think it instead, I know." Maybe his voice is a little angrier than he means for it to be. Maybe he's being too presumptuous. Maybe he should stop, but Ned's fail of a smile just makes him feel worse.

"I just wanna help," Jesse tells him, swallowing hard and trying to clench his fists into his pockets to stop them from freaking out. "I just know how fuckin' hard it is to get outta that when you're so deep you can't see the fucking surface anymore. S'all."

Ned watches, like a statue, as Jesse's hands start to spark again. It looks... painful. Really painful, actually. His first apology made Jesse angry, and his second apology made him, if possible, angrier. Ned switches to the next best strategy he knows: silence and stillness. He doesn't know what Jesse hopes to accomplish, what Jesse wants from him right now. If he knew, he would provide it, just to make Jesse stop looking at him like that.

He opts for doing nothing, saying nothing, until he can orient himself properly. Perhaps the problem is that he and Jesse are too similar, but with precisely the wrong differences; Ned thinks that Jesse must look at him and see everything he dislikes about himself. It isn't like that, from his side of the looking glass, but it would explain the other man's rage.

Ned is accustomed to Jesse's fondness for obscenities by now, but the words have a very different quality, when he spits them out like that. He flinches without meaning to. But Jesse wouldn't hurt him. Would he? Ned remembers when Jesse was still a werewolf, how short his temper had been, the way that he'd snarled. Not just a werewolf thing after all. But all he'd done was snarl then, and all he's doing is snarling now.

When it seems that Jesse is done scolding, Ned nods, just once. He needs a very tense half of a minute to sift through what Jesse's said, comb it for what he can use, what magical sentence he can put together to defuse the situation.

"You do help. All the time. Being my friend... that helps." The very slight note of fear in his voice, though, makes it clear that right now, right here, Jesse isn't helping all that much. "I didn't mean to make you-" he gestures (a tiny movement of his hand) wordlessly, "I'm doing my best, Jesse."

It's the fear that makes Jesse stop. It worms it's way into Jesse's chest and bites down, leaves marks, and Jesse closes his eyes and turns around, because he's better but he's still a fucking mess. He's doing his best too, he's trying, and failing. His words don't work, and he's not getting out what he wants to get out, not in the right way. Like always.

Jesse's hands stop sparking after a moment, and he thunks his head against the wall, against a bit of it that isn't painted, shaking a little from the adrenaline and the buzz that's slowly working up to his skull. He swallows hard, keeps his hands in his pockets, and slowly bangs his forehead against the wall, just one more time, before trying to speak.

"Sorry. S-sorry." He doesn't mean to get so mad. "I'm - m'not there yet. M'not - I know you're trying." He takes a shaky breath, eyes squeezed closed. "M'still fucked up, f-from -- I can cover it with paint, but it's still there. I don't mean t'yell, I just don't want this for you, m'not doing it right. M'sorry."

While Ned hates to see Jesse being so hard on himself, at that moment, it is better than being the focus of his anger. He watches, still frozen to the spot, as Jesse hits his head against the wall. Ned is confident he'd have been able to stop something like this, with anyone a little less like himself. They wouldn't have been able to see through his bullshit, or even if they had, they wouldn't have cared so much.

Caring about Ned is clearly toxic, for Jesse. He's going to have to be more careful, in the future. He doesn't want things to change between them, but he can't quite stand the thought that just talking to him can make Jesse want to actually, literally bang his head against a wall.

"Of course." Jesse doesn't need to explain, that he's still fucked up - from being murdered, from Galen and the nightmares, from whole swathes of his life that Ned knows nothing about. Ned gets it. "You're messed up, I'm messed up. Together we're messed up, squared." It's a rather weak stab at a joke, but Ned is trying. "There's nothing to apologize for. Really." And he means it, too.

Ned knows what he's about to say will sound awkward, but he doesn't care right now. Better awkward than any further miscommunications between them. "Can I- um, give you a hug? Or would that make it worse?"

He mutters something, almost inaudible, with a sniff of laughter at the comment about messed up squared. Just - no, he's not doing it right. He cares, but he's not showing it right. The problem is, he doesn't know what the right way is. The words get away from him. It's not Ned's fault he wants to crack his skull on the brick wall, it's Jesse's, because he's so frustrated with himself all the time that he doesn't know what to do anymore.

There's a lot to apologize for, Ned is wrong, but he offers the hug and Jesse can't say no to that. He sniffs again, and turns his head to look at Ned, looking tired and upset again. He's so sick of feeling this way.

"S'not gonna make it worse, I like hugs," Jesse tells him, with a sigh, but even as he's sort of angling himself towards Ned, he adds, quietly: "You don't gotta touch me if it makes you uncomfortable, man."

It's only the smallest and shakiest of laughs that he manages to get out of Jesse, but it's gratifying nonetheless. Especially when Jesse turns to face him a minute later and looks so worn. Maybe he should make another pie, when he gets back to the house. He's so much better at pie, and making people feel better with it, than he is at talking.

Ned answers Jesse by wrapping him in his arms tightly and without hesitation. The two of them haven't really discussed Ned's aversion to touch, but with the opening that Jesse has given him, and without having to look at him while he says it, Ned finds himself saying, "Hugs aren't so bad." Which, for plenty of people, would be damning with faint praise, but is quite a concession, from Ned. He'd been staunchly anti-hug just a few weeks earlier, after all.

"Certain stuff's harder. I'm not really big on people touching my face or hair or... that kinda thing." Which, for all he knows, Jesse might have noticed. Or he might not have. Ned knows his own patterns, because he knows the reasons behind them. He thinks of the obvious instance of Jesse trying to kiss the side of his head, in the woods, after he'd come back, wonders if Jesse is remembering it, too. "But other things I don't mind so much, especially if I know it's coming." It really does make all the diference, gives him the chance to avoid too much contact if his head isn't at a good spot.

He lets Jesse go, the appropriate amount of time (at least, he thinks it is?) having passed. "Keep meaning to say thanks. For... paying attention to that kind of thing. Trying to make it easier for me. Don't think I didn't notice."

It - makes him feel a little better, the reassurance, if only because Ned says it while hugging him this tightly. Jesse rests his head against Ned's chest for a moment and just closes his eyes. Hugs are nice. He misses hugs from everyone - his crew back home, the whole family of The Counter Curse, was a snuggly bunch, and he loved every second of it. Here he only feels comfortable curling up with Galen and Kenzi - there's a severe lack of cuddles in his life.

But yes. He did notice Ned doesn't like being touched on the face, which is why he's avoided it, avoided really touching at all, without Ned's permission. Jesse's always been intensely aware people don't want others all over them, and he keeps track of the people with boundaries like that closely. He lets out another sigh when Ned lets go, stuffing his hands in his pockets again, but he looks less stressed. Just tired. As always, lately.

Jesse shrugs a little, glancing up at Ned, leaning against the wall. "S'the least I can do." He's quiet for a second, then: "You don't like bein' touched without permission, it don't take a rocket scientist to figure out." But he smiles a bit anyway.

"And yet so few people do," Ned says, lightly, smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. He mirrors Jesse's pose unconsciously, leaning against the wall himself and putting his own hands in his pockets. The town around them is quiet, peaceful. The hug wasn't just for Jesse's benefit. Ned, too, finds that he feels calmer now, feels that his earlier slips are forgiven and that he and Jesse will be able to put their argument behind them with little or no damage done.

It seems important to him, to make sure Jesse knows that his caution and respect are unusual traits. Ned knows Jesse has terrible self-esteem, wants to make sure he recognizes the things that make him the good person that he is.

"I'm used to no one noticing. The few people that ever did..." he trails off, shrugs. It's the usual shrug he employs when he's trying to make something seem like less of a big deal than it is. "Well, mostly they went straight from noticing to asking nonstop questions about it or telling me I needed therapy or... y'know. Trying to guess why. Which was always charming." By which Ned clearly means awful. It had always been astonishing to him, the way people seemed to assume it was their right to make him talk about it, and to know everything, and that if he didn't want to it must be because he hated them or was selfish. The sheer entitlement of it.

"So thanks. For not doing any of that."

Edited 2013-05-31 03:32 (UTC)

All that, everything that Ned tells him, makes Jesse wrinkle his nose in irritation. Not at Ned, just at the people he's talking about. If there was anything that he'd never do, it's that - Jesse doesn't want people to feel awful about themselves, or for things to be so bad they can't even speak, but he would never, ever try to force it out of them. Jesse knows what it's like to not want to talk about the things that have happened to him. He's living it right now.

And so the people that Ned talks about make Jesse sniff, once, kicking at the ground absently.

"World's full of nosy people. Nothing's a secret anymore, nothing's private," Jesse says, staring up at the sky. "All you got left is your head, mostly. Your thoughts and the shit that's happened to you. Everybody's got a right t'keep it to themselves."

He glances at Ned, briefly, and then back to the sky. "It ain't my business. Not unless you say it is, and if y'did, I'd listen long as you wanted. But - you're welcome, I guess. S'just common decency."

"Well, then I guess common decency's pretty uncommon." But Ned will leave it at that. He's said his thanks, and he's fairly confident that Jesse heard them, even if he can't just accept them without disclaimers. Another thing they have in common - a hard time accepting praise or gratitude without waving it off.

He appreciates the offer to listen, even if he never intends to take Jesse up on it. It isn't that he doesn't trust Jesse, exactly, but he just doesn't want to go there, and doesn't think he ever will.

Ned pushes himself off the wall, takes a few steps away with his hands clasped behind his back. "Do you mind if I just... watch you paint, for a little while?"

Definitely, he did hear the thanks, and it makes him feel a little better about - everything, really, just being. He shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at the sky until Ned shoves off the wall, and Jesse glances at him, a little surprised.

"... Uh, yeah, sure," Jesse says, tilting his head. "S'kinda boring for you, I'd think, but I don't mind."

A beat, and then he bends to grab a spray paint can from the ground, looking back at his wall. There's a lot of color there already, but he can see where he needs more, should add something else. So he pulls his hood back up, gives Ned a slight smile, and goes back at it.

"It's not boring, trust me."

He moves back a little bit further, finds a good spot for himself to sit down on the ground. Once he's done that he wraps his arms around his legs, rests his chin on his knee, and watches Jesse work in a kind of companionable silence. Partly, he wants to watch out for him. Partly, though, it's just nice to see him in the process, see how easily it seems to come to him, to see all the stages in between blank wall and beautiful graffiti mural.

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I like to keep my issues drawn

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