#i just. was very looking forward to mine and dear john and such. mayhaps mean. anyways

[ginalinettiofficial]

i’m gonna be so so real with you tonight tumblr. if this set list doesn’t change a little bit before my show in june i’m gonna be the teensiest bit devastated!!!

[pertinax--loculos]

Character Study: Jay (1)

[Quite note for CW -- vague reference to drug use.]

1. Intro My name is Jay Johns, though my parents would probably deny it. Oh no, they’d say, that’s not our boy. Must be another Johns, y’know I hear there’s another family with that name out north.

Don’t get me wrong, they love me to death. That’s their mistake.

People would probably look at my life and go, oh my gosh, where did they go wrong? Or, what happened to him to make him like this? The trouble is, nothing happened. This isn’t a product of trauma or a horrible home life or whatever else. No funny uncles. No ridiculously strict parents making me rebel. No reason.

Just… boredom, I guess.

Technically speaking I suppose it can be traced to an injury I sustained when I was fourteen, but don’t read anything into that. Truth be told I was being a moron, thinking I could balance on a ledge I shouldn’t have been trying to balance on and, surprise surprise, I fell. Nothing insidious about it.

Same can’t be said for the panadeine forte I was prescribed for the broken collarbone, though.

Stuff’s fairly well regulated if you don’t need it, and doctors weren’t particularly keen to prescribe it to a teenager more than once. So I outsourced. Knew a guy who knew a guy, you know how it is. Except turns out the guy on the end was kinda tangled up in some heavier stuff. And at fifteen I didn’t exactly have disposable income.

So I had to do a few odd jobs to get the next fix. But, like, who the fuck cares. No big deal. Flow like mine, didn’t really matter what they asked me to do; it was always get in, do the job, get out.

Y’know talk about, like, a self-fulfilling prophecy? Where you do a thing in order to get the result but the result makes you do the thing again, and so ad infinitum?

Yeah. Given my… aptitude for certain jobs, I suddenly started getting only those. And those morphed into Jobs, capital J, which I didn’t regret so much as want to erase from my memory which was facilitated by, you guessed it, more opioids. And so on and so forth.

Dunno why I decided to get clean – well, that’s a lie, the decision was taken out of my hands, essentially – but I was way too entrenched by then to get out. Knew too much about the operations, the players, the secrets.

Plus, y’know, it was easier. And the pay was almost worth the nightmares.

Almost.

So, yeah. Take the Jay Johns of today and describe him to my parents, and they’d marvel at the coincidence of some amoral gangster having the same name as their beloved golden child. The one who’s off working as an engineer a few hundred clicks south – no, haven’t heard from him lately, but you know how it is, they get to be adults and forget about their dear old parents. And, I mean, I could disabuse them of that notion, sure.

But I don’t wanna break their hearts. They deserve better than that.

They deserve better than me.

2. Family Jay had a very specific memory he wanted to preserve of the last time he’d seen his parents. They’d been so very proud, and through the guilt that threatened to strangle him they’d had an exceptionally pleasant day, culminating with a barbeque in the backyard, warm summer evening heavy with the buzz of dragonflies reminiscent of his very favourite recollections from childhood. If he closed his eyes he could still see his mother’s beaming face as he told her about the job offer; could still see his father’s gruff pride, hidden behind layers of learned reserve but shining through his eyes regardless. He could still taste the tang of lemon in his mother’s specialty cheesecake on his tongue.

Right now all he could taste was blood, and he wondered if that was why it had taken him so long to place the figures wandering past the end of the alley.

Markus had frozen as soon as they’d come into view, his fingers still wrapped around Jay’s wrist, and it took Jay a half-second too long to clap his free hand over his mouth. The sound that escaped was truncated but hellishly loud.

The figures hesitated; the shorter, wider one swivelled towards the alley.

“Did you hear that?”

Her voice was more curious than apprehensive, and Jay was nearly certain being stabbed in the chest would be less painful than hearing that warm, comforting tone juxtaposed with the tiny, pleading whimpers rising in Markus’s throat. The hold around Jay’s wrist tightened and Markus squirmed a little.

Without looking away from the mouth of the alley Jay uncovered Markus’s mouth and instead buried his fingers in his hair, twisting savagely. It elicited another whimper, but at least he stopped moving.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Jay heard his father say, even as the two of them took a couple of steps forward, into the darkness and squalor. “What was it?”

Jay’s jaw was aching – he hadn’t even realised he’d clenched his teeth – and his grip on Markus was white-knuckled, less due to concern the dumb fuck was going to move and more to keep his hands from shaking. His breath was roaring in his ears and there was an uncomfortable scrabbling inside his chest, some sharp-clawed animal desperate to get out.

“It sounded like someone in trouble,” his mother said, alert and worried and good god for once in your life don’t be a fucking good Samaritan.

The only advantage Jay had was the light; he’d chosen to ambush Markus in this alley for a reason, it being one of the few he knew that completely lacked any illumination. It was stupid enough for Markus, a young man experienced with the unsavoury elements of the city, to try to cut through. Surely an older couple wouldn’t risk it. Plus, motionless as he was, Jay was nearly certain that his parents couldn’t make out whether or not there was actually someone down there.

Anxiety was an iron band around his chest. He couldn’t breathe.

His mother stopped.

“It was probably just a cat,” his father said. “I read somewhere that they’ve actually evolved to mimic the cries of human babies. Which, as far as I’m concerned, is just another strike against them.”

His mother chuckled, though she continued to peer into the gloom. “I guess it could’ve been. It just sounded so…”

There was a pause that stretched interminable. Jay twitched the hand knotted in Markus’s hair, a silent warning not to try anything stupid.

“… tormented,” his mother finished finally. Then she shrugged and turned, making her way back to the street. “I must have been imagining things.”

Their voices faded as they walked away, and Jay sucked in a deep breath. It felt like he was choking on it.

“Johns,” Markus gasped, twitching in his grip. “Please. I’m not—I get it, okay? I understand. You don’t have to—”

Jay hauled him up and around, slamming him against the wall of the alley. Markus’s cry of pain was so breathless it was nearly inaudible.

��Unfortunately, Markus,” Jay said, his voice light and even and betraying none of the shame surging so strong inside of him he felt like he was drowning, “My colleagues see it differently.”

“Johns—”

“I like that word. Tormented.” Jay twisted his left hand. He felt the familiar tingle of the Orn between his fingers, and then the just-as-familiar weight of his knife in his palm; Markus’s eyes widened when it shimmered into being in the physical world, a low keen breaking out of his throat. Some tiny part of Jay cringed at the noise, at the fear in his eyes, but he refused to acknowledge it. Instead he just cocked his head a little, letting the detached smirk settle on his lips. “Let’s see just how tormented you can sound.”

3. Friends “It’s not like you have to screw him,” Cassidy said matter-of-factly, crunching another couple of almonds between her teeth. “I’m just asking if you like the guy.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, very purposefully continuing to stare down at the book spread out over his lap. “Keyword being guy, Cass. Who says I even swing that way?”

They were spread out on his bed, ostensibly doing homework, although Cassidy had abandoned that pretence nearly half an hour ago in favour of interrogating Jay on his nonexistent love life. The fact Jay still had his books open was more to provide him with an excuse not to look at her than any real attempt at finishing his math assignment.

Cassidy waved a hand expansively, blowing her fringe out of her eyes. “Jay. There is no need to pretend in here. I know you.”

“Wait,” Jay said, glancing up briefly enough that he hoped she wouldn’t notice the blood he could feel warming his cheeks, “Are you assuming I’m gay because I’m not into you?”

“Well, I mean, that would be a fair assumption, because I’m hot as hell,” Cassidy said, her grin wide enough that Jay could hear it in her voice. “But one, you have never actually said you’re not into me, and two, I never said you were gay. I was simply asking if you liked a guy. Singular.”

“For the record,” Jay said, turning a page in his textbook. He hadn’t actually absorbed anything on the preceding page, but hell if he was gonna give up the ruse now. “I am not into you.”

Cassidy sighed theatrically. “Oh gee, well there go all my hopes and dreams. Whatever will I do now, how will I overcome this devastation.”

It was getting difficult to keep his face straight, but Jay was fairly sure he managed it. “I’m sure you’ll find the strength to carry on.”

“Mayhaps!” Cassidy clapped a hand to her chest and fell backwards on the bed with a wail. “Or perhaps this broken heart will be the end of me!”

“Could you at least die quietly?”

Jay jumped when her hand landed in the centre of the page he was looking at.

“Never,” Cassidy said. “Or at least not until you answer the question.”

“You mean how on earth you will carry on knowing that I’ll never be your boyfriend?” Jay glanced up to throw her a smirk, and Cassidy jabbed a finger at him.

“No, whether or not you like Johnny Davis. Come on, Jay. I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Jay couldn’t stop himself; this time he jerked his head up to stare at her, feeling horror unfurl across his face. Any hope of hiding his blush was gone, his cheeks flaming as he processed what she was saying. “I’m not—”

Cassidy’s teasing veneer vanished and she scooted close enough to rest a hand on his arm. Jay dropped his eyes. “Relax, darl,” she said softly. “It’s not obvious at all. Like I said, it’s because I know you.” She ducked her head, and Jay let her catch his gaze again. Her face was warm, made even more comforting by the tiny crinkles extending outwards from the corners of her eyes as she smiled; not that Jay would ever tell her that. She’d probably end up in a back alley getting illegal botox if he so much as suggested she had anything remotely resembling wrinkles.

“I’m not trying to be a bitch,” she added.

“No, that just comes to you naturally,” Jay said without thinking.

For a beat Cassidy just stared at him, before she roared with laughter, swatting at his arm. Jay grinned as well, raking his fingers through his hair as he waited for her to calm down.

“Nice one,” Cassidy said eventually, still snickering. “I’ve gotta remember that. Man,” – she swiped her hand across her face – “What was I saying?”

The smile wouldn’t shift from Jay’s face, and he met her eyes as he said, “The answer’s yes. As in yeah, I like Johnny Davis.”

The admission was more than worth the grin that practically split her face in two.

4. Education/Mentors Friday was the Big Day.

Mrs. Phillips had told them all about it, had explained how important it was and how they weren’t allowed to muck about in the waiting area or they would be sent to the principal’s office. Jay thought it was all a bit of a hullabaloo. After all, the Orn was just a fact of life. Why did it need to be measured?

Mum and Dad had told him that he should be very careful when he was taking the Test. But that didn’t make sense either. They’d talked about all sorts of stuff and Jay had stopped listening pretty quickly. After all, Mrs. Phillips had told them that there was no way they could fail the Test. It was just to get an idea of where they were at.

Like with their reading. That was a Test, too. Normally it was done when the rest of the class was working on their handwriting, so they were real quiet. You waited until your name was called, and then you went up to the teacher’s desk – all by yourself, so that the other students couldn’t hear you in case you made a mistake – and you read through the list. It was a very long list, and it started with super basic words like ‘at’ and ‘the’ and then by the time Jay started stumbling he was up to words like ‘pneumonia’ and ‘rendezvous’.

Mrs. Phillips had been very impressed with how good he was at his reading. So why shouldn’t he try to impress these teachers too? Just because he didn’t know them didn’t mean he should pretend.

And it wasn’t like Dwayne’s parents had told him the same thing. Jay knew, because they’d been discussing it for the last forever while they waited for their names to be called.

That was kinda why they were friends, because Cass was in Mr. Allen’s class this year and Dwayne’s last name was Jacobson so he and Jay always got to sit together. And if they were real careful and talked real quiet Mrs. Phillips didn’t seem to notice.

“But, see, like, there’s different, like, levels,” Dwayne said, leaning sideways as he kept one eye on the door their classmates kept disappearing through. “Y’know how I can do different things to most everyone else?”

Jay nodded, as wisely as he could. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“So that’s what this is for. Mum calls it a attitude test, so that they can get an idea of what sorta connection to the Orn you have and then they can teach you the right way to handle it.”

They paused as Gary came back out of the door, and Mrs. Phillips whispered to the man who came with him. Then she nodded and ushered Gary back over to the other side of the room as the man glanced down at a paper and called, “Carrie Harvey?”

Jay watched Carrie disappear through the door and then said, “So your parents didn’t say, like, some people get taken away after the attitude test?”

Dwayne frowned, deep furrows appearing in his forehead. “No. Why would they? They just wanna know what we can do.” He straightened a little, smiling instead of frowning now. “And they reckon that the testers’ll be real impressed with me.”

“Well, yeah,” Jay said, like he was saying well, duh. “You’ve gotta be the best at it out of all of us.”

Which was annoying, really, but Mum and Dad had been very very clear about Jay not showing off. It would get him into trouble, they said, and Mum and Dad were normally right. But this wasn’t showing off, was it? This was just showing the special teachers what he could do.

Carrie came back, Mrs. Phillips whispered to the man, and Carrie took her seat on the other side of the room.

“Dwayne Jacobson,” the man called.

Dwayne sent Jay a nervous sort of smile, and Jay gave him two thumbs up.

Without Dwayne there to talk to the time seemed to drag even more. Or maybe they were actually taking longer to test Dwayne. Jay didn’t want to look at the clock, because every time he did the second hand seemed to freeze into place.

When the door opened this time, the man and a woman stepped out with Dwayne.

Mrs. Phillips hurried up to them, quicker than she had been walking. Jay watched carefully as they talked, trying to look around Mrs. Phillips to see Dwayne’s face, to get an idea of whether he thought he’d done well or not. But try as he might, he couldn’t get a good look.

After a few more seconds of whispering, Mrs. Phillips nodded and stepped back. But instead of ushering Dwayne to the other side of the room, she just nodded at the strange woman, and the strange woman took Dwayne’s hand and led him through the side door.

Jay stared, waiting, waiting for them to come back. Maybe Dwayne had just really needed to go pee. But Mrs. Phillips had walked back to her chair and sat down. She didn’t seem to be waiting for Dwayne to come back.

Jay felt like his chest was about to burst. Heat raced up into his eyes and he tried not to sniffle as he swiped at it. He was not gonna cry. Not in front of everybody.

But he could suddenly hear Mum’s words, real clear.

You’ve gotta be careful, Jay. Promise me, alright? Promise me you’ll be careful.

“Jay Johns,” the man called.

Jay swiped at his eyes one more time, and then pushed himself to his feet. He held his chin up as he walked across the room.

He was gonna be careful. Even if it meant he didn’t show them everything.

He wasn’t gonna give them a reason to take him away.