On far too many occasions, he has been misunderstood, his words misinterpreted. He sits at Swansdale station, chewing on the inside of his cheek. There’s a bench that he has commandeered, all to himself, his legs sprawled out in front of him, his arms thrown up over the back of it. There’s a scowl resting on his lips, and the commuters keep well out of his way. They circle around the bench that he sits on as if it’s plagued with a disease that they might catch if they get too close. He pays no attention to them. And nor does he catch a train – at least five stop and leave again, and he remains seated. Lost in his thoughts.
He cast his memory back. He is trying to figure out whether there’s something else he’s done to inspire Micah’s ire. The text message he’d sent to his cousin had only been met with unbridled aggression. Yes, he could go and try to talk to the man face to face, but what’s the point if he’s not going to be open to reason?
And Micah’s not the only one. Too many other people seem to take him far too seriously. And even when he’s trying to be helpful, he is misunderstood; a recent argument with Grey was caused by that very thing. Misunderstanding. He’d vowed, then, to not speak so much anymore – to revert back into the silence he was first so well known for. And now? Now, he’s vowed to say nothing, ever, on Crownet, unless it’s for informative purposes only. Bereft of any humour. People seem not to appreciate his humour.
The Necromancer’s bright blue eyes narrowed at a young boy as he passes by. The boy gasps, eyes wide, and scuttles to stand on the other side of his distracted mother. Jesse isn’t in the mood to be kind. He’s disturbed, and ill-at-ease. He has no idea whether he’s done something more to displease Micah. Micah, one of the only people he respects. More than that, he’s one of the only people whom Jesse might seek approval from. It disturbs him to think, one, that he has done something to displease his cousin and, two, because he doesn’t want to have such a weakness. He’d been through this before, though – he’d tried to push everyone away because of it. And in the end had concluded that he couldn’t help the way things had turned out, and realised he preferred it. He liked having that thing he’d never had before – a family, and people whom he could trust, and who he hoped would trust him in return.
But somewhere along the way he must have done something wrong. Obviously. And he doesn’t know what to do about it.
A heavy sigh expels from Jesse’s throat and he slides further down into the bench, his legs stretching a little further out onto the platform – he nearly trips a businessman, who turns to swear at Jesse – but upon seeing the vampire, snaps his mouth shut and scurries away. A clucking noise clicks in Jesse’s throat, and his head rolls back, gaze slipping to the ceiling.
[Attire]
