#pleg this definitely isnt perfectly tailored to you

[heathsbitch]

HER - j.f

a/n: This is written from Jesper's point of view and was inspired by a poem called 'Non Sum Qualis Eram Bonae Sub Regno Cynarae' by Ernest Dowson. I hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: There is a slight reference to some spice but nothing major.

Word Count: 1521

Guilt trembled in the cavern of Jesper’s chest; it loomed there like a predator stalking its prey, waiting for the right moment to strike. It seemed to grow and grow as the minutes ticked by into the early morning. Jesper hadn’t slept. He’d kept his eyes trained on the creaky ceiling of his room in the Slat, waiting for the boy beside him to wake up and realise what had happened the night previous. The guilt didn’t come from sleeping with the stable boy, though he was far from a mere boy if Jesper’s memory served him correctly. The guilt seeped into his pores from where his mind wandered while he buried himself inside the stable hand - he was never immersed in the moment, never cared for the person underneath him. His mind was fixated on something entirely different. 

Her. 

She had left, taken away by unforeseen circumstances, leaving Jesper with a heart shattered into small shards; shards too small to pick up and piece back together. It wasn’t the stable hand’s moans that filled his ears last night, it was hers. He felt her soft skin along his bare back, her voice lulling him towards his climax. The guilt came from not caring about his intimate partner. It was no lie Jesper wasn’t conservative in who and how many people he spent his evenings with, but he had never been the type to not care about the person he was with, even if the care he held was only minimal. Last night stained his mind, he had enjoyed himself, but it had been for the wrong reasons. 

As he laid bare, feeling like a stranger in his own bed, his mind began to trail again, deeper into the treasure chest that was his own memory. His thoughts transported him back to a time where the world seemed brighter, shadows didn’t lurk in every crevice they could cram themselves into, despite the reputation of Ketterdam. He remembered a time where his dark eyes danced upon the patterns of the stars, his back cold against the grass underneath him. But his arms were full, full of love, full of her. She lied there, legs intertwined with his own, her cheek pressed against his chest, her hands stroking faint patterns onto the material of his shirt. Jesper swore he had never felt such peace as that moment; where their eyes didn’t have to be locked with one another to share such a connection. The stars stretched high into the sky above him and were miles away from reach. Yet with her, he felt as if he could stretch out his lanky limbs to grab one, to grab them all, just to give them to her. The corners of his lips turned upwards as he imagined the smile on her face, the way her eyes would light up as she gazed at him as if he was the only thing in the world that mattered. The way she would whisper, “Thank you, Jes.” before coyly placing the lightest of kisses on his cheek. 

His heart burned, no matter what he did, her memory would always return, always plague him. He had grown sick of an old passion, yet he still clung to every moment they spent together as if sheer willpower would bring her back to him; as if she would walk through the doors to his bedroom with that supple smile on her face and the stars in her eyes. Jesper knew it was wrong to indulge himself in such fancies, “Remembering will only make it hurt more.” Kaz had constantly reminded him. The words carried a weight Jesper couldn’t quite pinpoint. He knew Kaz was right though, but despite everything, her memory crawled into bed with him every night without fail. All night upon his he felt her warm heart beat, night-long within his arms in love and sleep she would lay; the kisses of her red mouth blemished his mind, but now he lay desolate and sick of an old passion. 

The murky Ketterdam skies no longer held the charm that once lured Jesper onto the streets - the rain that spiked the streets no longer invited him to splash around in. They were like bullets, tearing through his flesh, each scar a reminder of what he used to have. Nothing felt the same as it did with her. She had managed to occupy every corner of his mind while they were together, so much so that his hands never sought the sweet touch of cards, his mind never felt the desire to gamble. Though she still slept in his mind, his hands twitched for the familiar weight of coin - he yearned for the thrill of the win, no other distraction worked as well as gambling, not even the call of his pearl-handled revolvers could satiate his hunger for her. Jesper would sit in the darkest corner of the Crow Club, playing hand after hand, his eyes trained on the entrance just wishing that she would traipse through those doors. His heart jumped when a woman that resembled her in almost every way tripped through the doors to the club. But she was wrong, the curve of her lips were wrong, the length of her lashes were wrong, the lilt of her voice was wrong. Jesper swore he could remember every simple detail of her, every detail she had overlooked or put herself down about. He thought she was perfect, a gift from the Saints themselves, an angel sent to watch over him. 

Another memory shot through Jesper’s brain; a time early on in their relationship, though it had seemed they had known each other for years. He swore he could still hear her laugh drifting on the airwaves. He had been messing around, of course, always looking to make himself look a fool in front of her just so he could hear that laugh, see that smile. His revolvers were nestled in his palms as he shot at the leaves of the large oak tree that sat before them. She was lounged on a blanket, a stream not too far from where she layed. They had looked for a place to have their picnic for what felt like hours before they found themselves at the foot of a wood, just a ways out of Ketterdam. The trees reached far into the sky, almost as if their branches were limbs trying to clutch at the clouds floating above them. She had been ecstatic, sprinting into the woods in the hopes of finding a clearing where they could eat, the stream providing such a place for her. 

She had fiddled with the ends of the blanket before finally settling on a place, beckoning Jesper to go and join her once he’d finished showing off with his guns. His plump lips stretched into a wide smile, his expression mirroring hers. She crawled into his embrace as he made himself comfortable, taking a grape into his mouth from the basket and chewing it slowly. “Maybe we should run away.” She had muttered, face slightly squashed against his hard chest. He hummed as his slender fingers stroked her back, tracing small patterns onto the fabric of her clothes, “And live here?”

“We wouldn’t have to worry about anything.”

“What about wolves eating us in the middle of the night?” She tapped his chest lightly as if to scold him, a giggle resonating from the man. “I could get you that dress you want from the market. Live here like a little faery” Her eyes had lit up at that, the smile stretched across her face practically radiated joy. He pulled one of his hands from her back and tapped her nose, lightly chuckling when it scrunched up as a reaction.

Tears threatened to drip from his eyes at the reminiscence, “Others will come.” Inej had comforted him once he had gotten the stable hand out of his bed and left the room. She had come in to check on his condition, being met with the mess that Jesper now was. “But they won’t be her.” He whined, throwing himself back onto his creaky bed, his hands rubbing his eyes as if to get rid of the memories of her for just one more moment of relief. Inej gazed at her friend, wanting to help but not knowing how to. If only he weren’t so stubborn. She had sent him a sympathetic smile before slipping out of his room, closing his door to leave him isolated once more. 

The thin curtains of the Slat cast shadows across his bedroom, even in the light of the day. Their shapes seemed to crawl and dance across the walls as the breeze flicked at the material. When all fell silent, when all fell stationary, one shadow peeled itself off the wall. 

Her. 

He tried to reach for her, to clutch her body. If only he could hold her once more, feel her smooth skin against his, the press of her lips against his own. But there was nothing but void; Jesper was left desolate, and sick of an old passion.

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