Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye, or beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Jahseh believes the same rings true for the intricacy that is joy.
The way Jahseh sees it, to live is for one's self. Where some prefer the high life, others prefer simple mores. Where some prefer parties and extravagance alike, others prefer the beauty in the ordinary, in the bland. Where some prefer outdoors, he prefers the stillness he resides in within the confines of his home. He never understood why a man who thrived in the bustle of the upper echelon could knock a man whose smile sprouts at as little as a book. To Jahseh, joy is bought by judgement of the eye. Joy is in the eye of the beholder.
What makes him happy may not be what makes anyone else happy, but it makes him happyâthat's all he has the bother to care for.
And Jahseh's home may just make him the happiest of all.
A staggering four bedroom, semi-detached house treasured 900 grand deep in Keston Park, better known to those that live beyond its fringes as Millionaire Row. With its own library-equipped study, a high-spec home cinema, a man-cave fit for a king and a garden the size of two tennis courses, Jahseh's pride in his abode is far from humble, yet he knows to be. He cherishes it as one of the few places he's come to find peace, which is why he could count on one hand the amount of people knighted with the honour of coming by whenever they please. One of which being Sullivan, who'd developed a nasty habit of abusing the sole spare key to the place as he see fit.
Uninvited and bearing the gift of his company alone, Sullivan kicks off his shoes to one side of the foyer before he ventures deeper into his little brother's home. He sings out a melodic whistle to himself, much to Jahseh's dismay, as he strolls about the naked corridor in search of the man of the house. In the kitchen, Jahseh rests against the cabinet, one hand tucked into the cave of his armpit while the other holds his phone a distance from his face.
"Jah! Where you at, bruv!"
"Why you yelling?"
Sullivan appears in the doorway, his eyes roll over the island's spread of groceries, the familiar ingredients of Morgan's signature Autumn Roastâand yet, no Morgan.
Jahseh's gaze flickers between his brother and the empty space that follows him, "Where's Morgs?"
"With her friend," Sullivan says, with a careless shrug. He hoists himself up onto one of the four high chairs lined across from Jahseh, witless to his glare of disapproval.
"Why'd she make me buy all this shit if she weren't gonna come cook it?"
Sullivan raises an eyebrow, "'Cause twenty quid's really denting your pockets."
"It's the principle. Moreso, Morgs ain't even got friends like that, that's why you man are always in my crib. If she's just fleeced me for that Ana tingâ" Jahseh's chorus of complaints is intercepted by Sullivan's homely snort.
"What's your beef with Ana? Leave the girl alone. She ain't even withâbruv, just shut up," Sullivan huffs. His back creaks as he pulls himself apart in a draining stretch to yawn. "Stop complaining, start whippin' something up. I'm starving."
"I ain't your personal chef, y'know. Stop coming over here when you're hungry, go starve somewhere else."
"You must want me to swirly your head down the toilet," Sullivan chuckles, confidently dismissive. "Season all'a this shit and put it in the oven. It ain't rocket science."
Jahseh kisses his teeth, nudging a sealed four-pack of chicken an inch closer to his brother, "You do it, then."
"I'm a guest."
"I didn't even let you in."
"Tuh," Sullivan tuts, and then shakes his head. "Should've stuck with Morgs."
"Should've."
Sullivan is, as always, every bit amused by Jahseh's unwelcoming charade. If he hadn't shown up at Jahseh's home, he knows his little brother surely would've wound up at his, as avidly as he may deny it. From the minute Jahseh learned to stand on his own two feet, the brothers had been thick as thieves, brothers by chance and the best of friends by choice. The pair never quite grew from their pod, so two peas in it they remain and they intend to never let that change. "Put this away then. Let's grab some munch."
Jahseh buries his phone into his pockets and folds his arms, "Who's Morgs gone out with?"
"Her friend, Eve."
Eve.
Jahseh's train of thought is drawn to a stand, as he lets both her name and breath-stealing lure ripple throughout his mind. Not the rasp in her voice or the bashfulness of her smile, not even her whimsical awkwardnessâit's the smell of her. He can't stop himself from recalling it, the vanillas and jasmines and acme of nature coalesced into one choking perfume. She'd so effortlessly permeated that garage, till even after she'd left it every inch of the space reeked of her. He himself reeked of her, or at least, that's what it had seemed like. It was only when he'd voiced the aroma to his brother who had no clue what he was on about, that Jahseh realised it was all in his head. She was in his head,
And it pissed him right off.
"How do you know her? Where's she from?" Jahseh asks, he doesn't care to hide his intrusiveness, if intrusive even covers it.
"Eve? She lives next door, she's alright," Sullivan offers in response, misty and vague and meagre to satisfy the curiosity that plagues Jahseh's headspace.
"Why's she everywhere?" He grumbles, but Sullivan is sure to catch it. His head tilts left and his inklings sprout forth, above all at the distracted scowl on Jahseh's face.
"Why you asking?" Sullivan frowns. "How do you even know her?"
"I don't. You're the one who brought her to G's. Both of yous, stop bringing her places."
Sullivan laughs, "What you on about?"
"You brought a stranger to our shop, then Morgan had her at her's. What you lot playing at?" Jahseh, even as he drones on, is sickened at the sound of his own voice and far too aware of the ridiculousness in all that he's saying, yet he can't bring himself to shut up. "Stop forcing the girl down my throat."
"You've lost me, kid. Ain't everyone who comes by the shop a stranger? And who's forcing her down your throat?"
"You. You're the one who had me fixing her piece of shit car. Why the fuck's she even pushing a Range when she don't know a lick about cars? Did you see her pads? She's living on borrowed time," Jahseh rants.
"I never told you to touch her car," Sullivan's defensive rebuttal is met with a throat-footed scoff, as Jahseh curls his lip in frustration.
"Her brakes were screaming like there were foxes jeeting under her bonnet, how the fuck am I meant to ignore that?" Jahseh huffs. Sullivan cringes as he recalls the hollering of Eve's former brake pads, the haunted look on his face pokes a hole through Jahseh's serious front. The boys share another look, before they burst into a fit of laughter. As their hysterics simmer to quiet titters, Sullivan kindles the warmth in his chest. He stares at his baby brother, beyond his rugged exterior and his vacant tone and his feigned distaste towards Eve, and he catches sight of something. A glimmer or even a half, a scintilla, but still he sees it.
He sees it.
Sullivan, with utmost reassurance, says, "She's cool. You'll like her." But Jahseh doesn't appreciate the notion, nor the softness of his words. He doesn't doubt their truth for even a momentâthat was the problem.
"Who told you I wanna like her?"
"Ah, so you do like her? 'Cause you're proper going on like some twelve year old," Sullivan teases.
The ghost of a smile floats about Jahseh's face, as he slowly but surely slips back into his soldierly state, "Sully, keep her from around me." He pushes himself up from the cabinet and moves towards the kitchen's exit, letting Sullivan know he's off to find his shoes. Sullivan quietly watches him go.
Although Jahseh believes the bad he's endured was owed to him, Sullivan believes otherwise. Undeserving of his troubles and intended for all that is well, Sullivan believes Jahseh is due the world and more. Sullivan believes Jahseh deserves something goodâor rather, someone good.
Someone like Eve.
I wanna try and update everyday this week (LOL). Like a marathon? Write-a-thon? I don't know, but I wanna try!! Sounds fun. May be impossible because this book isn't even planned out but I wanna try. I don't know why it sounds fun it just does, lmao. Wish me luck and love.
Jah and Sul <3
I don't know what to make of this chapter, uhhhhhh. Tell me what you think! Leave a prompt, if you want 'cause I got nothing!
See ya lataaaa (tomorrow)!