Jahseh cannot, or rather will not, make any effort to quash the mug that becomes him as he watches Eve power walk up Guerrero's driveway. Not for her or the maxi skirt that pools just below her ankles, nor the small of her midriff that slips from beneath her t-shirt between strides. Not for the warmth of her smile that could rival the sun itself, nor the blown curls that flank her portrait this early afternoon. Only for her shadow that splits into an uneven two as Kamale, regretful to approach, meets his eye.
"Eve, what you doing?"
Jah's tummy turns at her sheepish grin, how pretty and mistaken it is. It's only another reminder how sorely she'd misjudged him to think he'd even for a second consider allowing Kamale in here. Eve takes two hands to either of the kid's shoulders, she presents him with a deceitful innocence that only further encourages his deadpan in response.
"Sul said I could bring him! It'll only be an hour, I swear."
"Sul ain't even here."
But he can tell by her pursed lips that she's aware of this. Beside her, Kamale scans the garage in all its expanse. Cars he'd only ever dreamt of coming by, pulled apart and strung above the floor so he could see them inside out. That doesn't dim his wonder in the slightest. Kamale focuses everywhere but Jahseh, already sure of the glare undoubtedly set upon him.
"Please, Jah. I owe you one."
"You owe me plenty," Jahseh retorts, although he himself knows he'll never let her owe him anything.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you. I'm late, I was supposed to meet Lan ten minutes ago," Eve wheels back the way she'd come, a fresh urgency to her pace as she takes off towards her car. "I'll see you later, yeah? Have fun, guys!"
The two watch her as she goes. Kamale ensures a cautious distance between them, a distance Jahseh unintentionally closes with a mindless shuffle in her direction. But she's out of sight before he can find words for the feeling now in his chest. It rises, with furrowed brows and a ticking at the peak of his forehead.
"He's a social worker." Jahseh glances at him. "Lan."
Kamale names his pale jealousy before Jahseh can even think to. The occasional grumble of distant engines and trains beaten against tracks breach the garage's silence, but even with it there's still an uneasy lull all about them. Off the dome Jahseh could conjure up a hundred places he'd rather be than here, saddled with thoughts that taunt him and paperwork that drones on and the boy who steals. He turns to Kamale now, beset with an inexplicable impatience. He's yet to piss him off but the look of him alone strums a nerve. Purple eyed and all but quaking in his boots. He takes note of his cleaner clothes and cleaner smell, although his hair is still a struggling state atop his head.
Kamale's breaths are deep and quiet, like he tries and fails to hold them. Jahseh eventually thinks to spare him the sure weight of his glare. With a curt beckon elsewhere, Jahseh leads him throughout the mess and into his office, where the furthest thing out of place is the chair untucked from its desk. Jahseh nods towards the sofa, Kamale is sluggish to sit on it. As if it'd swallow him whole. Or perhaps out of fear that it might not. That he might actually have to sit here with Jahseh for God knows how long, despite how avidly he'd fought against it.
But it was either Jahseh's company, or Lan the social worker's. Now, as Jahseh looms over him with the gaping height of a skyscraper, he can't recall why on Earth he'd thought of Jahseh as the lesser of two evils.
Slowly, Jahseh rears backwards until he perches along the edge of his desk, folded arms and tongue imprinted against his cheek. He despises the awkwardness more than anything, and still has no intention of doing anything to smother it. Eventually, Kamale watches Jahseh nudge a shredder from one end of the room to the space in front of him. He disappears and returns moments later with a stack of papers. He drops them on the sofa with a cushioned thud, raises his eyebrows, and allows Kamale only a second to take a hint before he's behind his desk and busying himself with something else to do.
So the both of them endure their terrible silence, only across the room from one another yet so deeply misaligned that they may as well have been worlds apart. Different eyes and different languages, likewise scowls and a likewise stiffness to their slouches. Ten minutes ease by like an excruciating eternity, and then Kamale figures he can't bear much more.
He steels himself with the sweet nature Eve had appointed Jahseh, regardless of how wrong he's sure that she is. The room edges quieter at the shredder's final burp. Jahseh's eyes flicker towards him.
"Sorry. About your car. I weren't gonna steal it."
Jahseh tilts backwards in his seat, a spry smirk spills across his face yet Kamale finds it the furthest thing from inviting. "You think you could steal my car? You?"
Kamale purses his lips.
He'd long ago abandoned a desire for anyone's approval. That urge had been snuffed with his mother's disappearance, alongside the fact if he were anyone else, he wouldn't approve of himself either. Unkempt and unruly. Where his age-mates had real goals, his only one for a while now had been to survive. He couldn't move at the speed of anyone's approval, or lack thereofâhe was too busy fighting for his life. But it'd been weeks since he had the need to, and suddenly someone's fighting for him and approval no longer boiled down to being in or being out. Now, it was a matter of life and death.
"I know..." Kamale pauses for a shaky exhale. "I know you think I'mâ"
"I don't think of you."
Jahseh finds the taut crinkle between his brows amusing, the feeling tarries as Kamale faffs about for his next words. Careful not to pick the wrong ones, yet desperate to get some point across that Jahseh is sure he won't care for.
"Y-Yeah... But you think I'm a thief."
"You are a thief."
"Well... Yeah."
The quiet lingers between them like a bad smell. It makes Kamale wrinkle his nose, but Jahseh only basks in it. He welcomes the discomfort he brings people, a reminder of who he is and will forever be. There's so much about Kamale that resides within himself, irking his headspace like nails to a chalkboard. He's only calmed by its ghostly nature. Kamale stands for everything he once was. Everything he'd sworn he'll never be again. He can only admit that to himself.
"What happened to Parker? Is he... Did youâ"
"Did I what?" Jahseh dares him to ask, with the incline of his tone and the jagged edges to his words, because he knows deep down that Kamale doesn't have the gall to. The boy sighs. "Where's your dad?"
Kamale shrugs.
"What's his name?"
He shrugs again.
Jahseh huffs, "Fuckin' hell."
"You don't have to keep me around, you know. I'll... I can leave the trailer."
"That don't sound like a thank you."
Kamale raises his eyebrows. Jahseh's screwface and the gruff timbre of his voice stick to him like a second skin, yet Kamale can for the first time feel something ease within him. It's by no means friendly, and far flung from his surface. Still, Kamale sees it. Feels it.
"Thank you."
Jahseh blinks. "And there's no point running off 'cause she'll just make me come find you again. And we both know I can."
Kamale ignores the threat heavy in his cadence to twist up his face and gawk at him.
"Who? Eve? Make you?" He can't even begin to understand the link between the two, there's no sense to decipher from whatever their situation is. But in his words alone, he gathers her feelings for him are in some way reciprocated, whether Jahseh knows it or not. It makes him want to laugh. "You two actually... Fairs. That's fucked."
By Jahseh's clenched jaw, he quickly remembers who he's talking to.
"I-I just mean... Like... Youâwell, she's like... Straight. Proper straight. And you're... Not like, crooked. But you definitely ain't straightâ"
"Stop talking."
Kamale's defeat is as clear on him as the clothes on his back and the shoes on his feet. He slumps over the shredder and resumes, taking each sheet of paper to its teeth with an attention-seeking listlessness, that tugs at Jahseh's focus with two pleading hands. He can almost hear Eve's voice right up against his ear, scolding him and all his apathy.
"God knows why Eve's looking out for you." Kamale pauses to look up at him. "But if Eve's got you, then..."
Jahseh runs a hand down his face.
"Fuck it. Whatever. I got her, init? Do what she tells you to do, go where she tells you to go, and we won't have no problems. And get a fucking job."
Tickled by a smile, Kamale settles only for a sigh of perfect relief. He's not sure at whatâJahseh is still Jahseh after allâbut he takes his own meanings from the little of his door that he'd opened.
Jahseh snatches his keys from atop his desk and rises. "You need a fucking trim, or something."
"A-Alright."
They both cross the room, only Jahseh reaches the door two seconds faster. And when he does, he steers back towards the boy. With a glare deadlier than Kamale had ever seen it, Adam's apple sharp in his throat and a scowl set in stone.
"If you rob Eve again, I'll kill you."
And Kamale knows to believe him.
HATE IT. But I'm going to try and break out of the habit of being my biggest hater when it comes to writing so let me just say I love it! Yay.
There was so much more that I wanted to touch upon between them but the word count is already way over.
Thoughts on these two?
The next chapter... Forgive me in advance, LOL.
See ya!