"I'm not trying to surprise you. I could if I wanted to." Perhaps he would later. Edward was beginning to have a pretty decent idea of how Jonathan could be surprised. "You are a puzzle, so I'm figuring you out."
It was a rewarding thing to do. "People are all like puzzles, but most have fewer pieces than you. Ugliness is relative, by the way. Beauty is subjective. But, trust me, by and large there wasn't a single person seeing my hidden beauty before I hit my growth spurt."
It hadn't mattered much to him then. "It wasn't a big deal, I didn't care about how I looked." He looked at Jonathan from the side, a smirk on his face. "That was before I realised how much I'd love having sex."
Jon sometimes loved that because of his stutter, he could just stop talking and no one could really question why. Well, they could but he could always say it was the stutter. That meant he could silently contemplate Edward having sex as he headed through the alleyway to his apartment. He assumed Edward got a growth spurt and got laid within the first week. A boy like that, seeking validation. It made total sense.
"I'm here." Jonathan gestured at the shithole he lived in. "Forth floor. We walk."
Did Edward still have a lot of sex? Probably. It was likely a good way for him to get positive attention... then again, there wasn't a big dating pool in a high school. Was there? He didn't like the idea of Edward fucking his way through school.
"I kind of like it. The way you talk. Obviously I understand what necessitates your approach, but it's snappy." He snapped his fingers to underline his statement, entertaining himself, if nothing else. Always a prime objective. "Authoritative. I always feel like you're ordering me around. I'm not saying there's not a part of me that wants to rebel, but it also gets me all tingly inside."
He mused out loud, taking Jonathan's reluctance to speak much as all the more reason to keep talking. "You couple that with all the 'boy' and 'son' and you'll have me on my knees calling you daddy without hesitation, if you know what I mean." Probably not. Made it all the more fun.
He walked up the stairs a little behind Jonathan, not minding the workout. Good for the posterior.
"Too easy." Jonathan knew Edward was a flirt, it didn't translate to actual affection and interest but he did like the tease. He had some good fodder for his next shower. His mind had a habit of just going elsewhere. "Keep moving, s-s-son."
The staircase reeked of smoke and mould, the usual Narrows smell, and he moved swiftly up the stairs to avoid running into any of his neighbours. He had a goal and he didn't need distractions or disruptions.
He pulled out his keys and unlocked his room, pushing it open for Edward to come in ahead of him. And then he realised, strangely, that he was letting Edward into his apartment and it was messy and unpleasant. It was dark, it smelled of bleach and weed and their were books on every surface. Where would Edward sit? Would he be repelled and leave? Once Edward inside, he locked the door and moved to turn on some lamps. "I j-j-just moved."
"Riddle me this, Jonny. Is anything too easy as long as it's worth having?" Edward felt that he was well worth any amount of effort it took to get him, even if said effort was none whatsoever.
Edward stepped into the place and looked around, not really surprised by what he saw. Smelled basically like Jonathan, like an underground library where someone smoked weed and cooked meth. Seemed about right. He inspected it with interest anyway, mostly focusing on the books. "So I gather."
He didn't wait for any invite, he started organising the books into more logical piles and freeing up surface space without any hesitation, as if he had every right to do so. "Living alone. I envy that."
"It has advantages." Jonathan agreed as he started to move some stuff off his armchair and then walked across to his kitchen. There stood his different bottles for different occasions and he felt like today was a shitty whiskey day, not a shitty spirits day. He grabbed the bottle and walked back over, setting it down on the coffee table. "I lost my f-f-family. S-Six months."
He looked at the coffee table and saw his father's journal was still open and beside it was his own sketches and formulas. He grabbed both and swiftly set them on the floor by his armchair.
"My m-mother was ... eight years ago. F-Father th-this y--year." His stutter was getting worse again, the subject of family seemed to knock him back a step. "D-Drink?"
"I'm sorry. You've got my condolences." And that journal and the glimpse he had gotten of some sketches and what looked like formulas had his attention now. He hadn't noticed them in time, but how quickly Jonathan moved them aside naturally awakened his curiosity. Well. His curiosity was always wide awake, so perhaps it would be more accurate to say that it was giving his curiosity a target.
He tried to be subtle about it though, simply nodding his head. "Sure, I'll have a drink. Then we are up to two." Really getting close to him feeling obliged to put out. "You are quite the host, Jonny."
"I don't have g-glasses." Jonathan admitted as he slid the bottle over to Edward and then leaned back in his chair, looking around the room and wondering if he could have cleaned it up a bit or maybe installed overhead lighting. Perhaps removed the mould. He just didn't know. He looked at Edward and studied his reactions, not missing how his eyes kept darting to the side of his chair.
"My f-father was a sc-sc-scientist." Jonathan clarified for him because he found Edward interest quite entertaining. "Psychology." He gestured in the direct of Edward. "It's sh-shit whiskey but it ain't expensive."
"Your father must have been an intelligent man." He did envy that. Educated. To grow up this close to someone with actual knowledge instead of the deprivation he felt, that seemed like a gift. Edward took the bottle and then sat down on the sofa that he'd freed up. He took a sip, clearly not put out by the taste. Cheap whiskey would still do the trick.
"Is that your area of interest? The study of the human mind." It was intriguing, he couldn't deny that. "I noticed a few patterns with your book collection."
"I am interested, yes. The human mind is fascinating." Jonathan admitted as he looked around at his books, amused at how clever Edward was. Seeing patterns and making his deductions. It was very cute. "I'm interested in the limitations of the mind. The point where things start shutting down. F-Fear."
Jonathan cocked his head to the side as he considered his favourite subject areas. "My f-father believed that fear could be cured." He looked at Edward, curious. "I think he's an idiot."
"I suppose it depends. Lack of fear can be a sign of ignorance of consequences or denote a lack of caring about said consequences. I don't know if either of those would really be a desirable outcome. Even hypothetically, a complete absence of fear would not be an improvement." Edward had never really thought about it much, but it was still easy enough to arrive at that conclusion. He had thought about fear. Had certainly been frustrated at his own fears.
"Would you want to cure fear? Or do you think that's what made your father an idiot?"
"Curing fear is idiotic. It's an evolutionary advantage. For s-survival. To keep you grounded." Jonathan loved that feeling of fear. He used to hate it but now he craved it and struggled to find it, he missed being ruled by his terror because now, it was all so empty and lacking. At least Edward was a good distraction. "That's why I'm s-so bored."
Nothing was exciting any more. No one made him afraid, no one got to him. He had lived with his father, who could compare? Idiot man, brilliant man. He had no idea. "But I can see it in others. Like you. And that's enough. A contact high."
"I see. Here I thought you just liked that I wear tight jeans." Edward took another sip from the bottle and then he got up, because as much as he might be fear driven in many aspects of his life, he was also bold. Bold, shameless and with rather a lot of affinity for risk-taking.
He walked over to Jonathan and sat down on one of the arms of the armchair, leaning down to pick up the journal. Not asking for permission, simply picking it up and opening it. He held it open and his free hand ran through Jonathan's hair, because his head was right there. "No more fear, huh? Nothing to make poor Jonny's heart thunder away in his chest."
He loved that about Edward. He was daring, shameless and he did whatever he wanted. There was more to Edward than fear, there was charm and a desire to be loved, to be wanted and touched. He craved touch as much as he liked to touch. Hence why he was touching Jon's hair. Jon cursed to himself, he probably should have washed it or something. He definitely needed a haircut.
"A man can like two things." Jon pointed out as he watched Edward hold his journal. His father's journal. It made his heart race and he didn't quite know why. He leaned his head to the side so he could see what page he was reading. "...Highly anxious individuals manifest increased s-sensitivity to psy-psychological th-threat that translates into enhanced autonomic reactivity and s-superior detection of internal bodily sensations, notably heartbeats."
Jonathan knew the pages almost by heart at this point. "In th-this experiment, I explored cardiac-timing effects on f-fear perception and fear judgment."
With a small laugh, Jonathan looked up at Edward. "That one was th-th-thrilling."
"So I see. That's... intricate." Edward was a speedy reader, of course he was, and he tried to absorb the information quickly, while he tugged lightly on a few strands of Jonathan's hair. Lovely texture, admittedly, even if it could use a good wash. "Your father was certainly original. He's really thought out that psychological abuse."
Fascinating. His own father had about the depth of a dried out puddle, so it was interesting to get an insight into someone who differed so much from that. "You're a fascinating person, Jonathan Crane."
"It's not abuse, not to him. It's love." Jonathan thought it was funny, personally. He smiled at Edward, wondering how much his mind was pulling together and what thoughts he was forming. Jonathan leaned his head back, enjoying those fingers in his hair and wondering what his limits were here. Three drinks. They'd only had two.
Yet here was Edward, looking like that. Split lip, dark eyes, that same lovely scent he had. "I'm not afraid of much anymore. I just have a few s-s-side effects." Reaching out, he placed his hand on Edward's thigh and squeezed it in warning. "I would like my journal back now, son."
"Right. You always get handsy when you want something badly enough?" Edward raised his eyebrows and smiled playfully, while he moved his thumb to leaf through the pages, his eyes trained on them the whole time. Not enough time to process any of the information right now, but he rather prided himself on an almost photographic memory. He closed the journal with a little flourish and then handed it over to Jonathan, leaning down to kiss his cheek. "There you go, daddy. Told you, I'm a sucker for that commanding tone."
He got up, scanning the room again as he walked over to where he'd sat before and draping himself over the sofa again, absently licking his injured lip. "So. Love hurts? Is that the conclusion?"
His cheek felt warm and weird, like a pleasant burning, and he set the journal on the table behind him before he got up and leaned forward, taking the bottle of whiskey. He sat down and took a long swig from it, pondering Edward's conclusion. "One of the conclusions."
At least, in his mind. His father loved him but ruined him, he was cruel but he didn't think he was cruel. He was a man of science, of pure thought, there was no love or empathy on display. Yet his journal seemed to imply otherwise. "People are cruel and they do what they can to achieve what they wanted. Motivated by fear, they storm ahead and trample on everyone they must to reach that end goal that will bring them relief or salvation." Jonathan shrugged, setting the whiskey back down.
He didn't take it personally. People were awful - it was in their nature. "A father can fear his son's weaknesses as much as he can fear his strengths. Anxiety and fear, intelligence and guile."
"Fair enough. Though for my money, my old man just really likes a punching bag that talks back." Clearly there was something far more complex on display in Jonathan's case. Explained a lot about him. Edward watched the other boy now, a smile on his face as he felt that more pieces got added just then. An even more complex puzzle, but also more pieces falling into place.
"I don't know if your view of people isn't too simplistic. Too focused on fear. There's more that drives them than that. Still, I appreciate the cynicism, I find it oddly refreshing."
Which was perhaps a strange thing to say, but nonetheless true. "I'm a cynic too. See? People never realise that. I like the world as it is. I like taking what I want. Suits me just fine."
"If the world is corrupt, it's easier to navigate. We remove guilt and anxieties that might be there if we exploit an inherently good s-s-system." Jonathan reasoned. He found it much more simple. He didn't like people and he didn't really think about people much. Ergo, they were less real to him. They were already screwed, living the way that they did, what did it matter if one more person screwed them over. And if they weren't already screwed, then they deserved to be eventually.
"You have an easy smile. Charisma. Ch-Charm. You don't seem cynical because people can't think beyond first impressions." That's why people preserved him as weak and pathetic because of his stutter. Of course they saw Edward was chipper and never cynical.
"You'd be boring if you were like you seemed. Another p-pretty boy."
"See, you think it's an easy smile. It is these days. Not that long ago and I'd look at myself in the mirror practising." He had tried to figure out what it was that appealed to people about him, once he'd learned that there was something about him that could appeal to people. A lot of discovery there. It was not how he had started out in life. But then, Ed supposed few ever did.
He knew he had charm these days. It was a skill he had had fun practising. "So, you'd not like me if I was just that. A pretty boy." It was a fun thing to call himself, so he had to laugh, shaking his head before leaning forward. Legs spread, he rested his elbows on his knees and looked at Jonathan. "But you do like it. You like that I'm a pretty boy."
"I like pretty, I'd be dumb not to. But a pretty boy ain't worth the time." He wouldn't invite a guy to his place if he was just pretty, he didn't really see the point. It wasn't that Edward was pretty that he was interesting. What was interesting was his mind, the pretty just made him nice to have fantasies about. He could jack off over a guy and move on pretty swiftly.
With Edward, he had a roadblock. "I like that you're a little shit." He smirked at him and then leaned forward. "You get under my sk-skin and p-piss me off. Pretty boys just look pretty. Flash in the p-pan. You ain't."
"Can't get me out of your head, can you? You oughta be careful with that, Jonathan. If it's just the looks, it's enough to get your prick to harden and to make you up with sticky sheets. What you're talking about though..." Edward let out a low whistle, then touched the tip of his tongue to his lip at the sharp pain. Stupid split. "That's dangerous territory. Headed right into obsession."
It was still flattering, he'd say. "Boy howdy. Aren't you a walking red flag?"
"Obsession is just a form of flattering, ain't it?" Jonathan pulled his cigarettes out and lit up, putting it to his lips and taking a smoke. He considered Edward's words and then smirked at him. "You like that I'm d-dangerous."
Otherwise, he wouldn't be here. He wouldn't have come. In fact, he would have avoided him. There was some strong danger kink there.
"Do you want to lie down with me?" Jonathan didn't stutter as he asked, looking Edward directly in the eyes. It wasn't an invitation to fuck or to sleep, just a simple statement. "Bedroom's back there."
Edward leaned back again, spreading his arms out along the back of the sofa and shrugging as he accepted that statement. He did like the danger, he couldn't really deny that. There was a draw to that. The unknown and the mysterious were always sure to draw him in and the risk was inherent to both. Part of the fascination.
There was that same fascination to the question too. The sudden lack of stuttering which belied a sense of confidence while Edward was a little bit at a loss. It was a particular way of wording things. Lie down with him?
He frowned and then simply got to his feet, figuring that was answer enough. Another red flag. He'd follow. "Lead the way, Jonny. Are you tired?"
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icebergloungers2024-05-02 05:52 pm
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It was a rewarding thing to do. "People are all like puzzles, but most have fewer pieces than you. Ugliness is relative, by the way. Beauty is subjective. But, trust me, by and large there wasn't a single person seeing my hidden beauty before I hit my growth spurt."
It hadn't mattered much to him then. "It wasn't a big deal, I didn't care about how I looked." He looked at Jonathan from the side, a smirk on his face. "That was before I realised how much I'd love having sex."
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"I'm here." Jonathan gestured at the shithole he lived in. "Forth floor. We walk."
Did Edward still have a lot of sex? Probably. It was likely a good way for him to get positive attention... then again, there wasn't a big dating pool in a high school. Was there? He didn't like the idea of Edward fucking his way through school.
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He mused out loud, taking Jonathan's reluctance to speak much as all the more reason to keep talking. "You couple that with all the 'boy' and 'son' and you'll have me on my knees calling you daddy without hesitation, if you know what I mean." Probably not. Made it all the more fun.
He walked up the stairs a little behind Jonathan, not minding the workout. Good for the posterior.
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The staircase reeked of smoke and mould, the usual Narrows smell, and he moved swiftly up the stairs to avoid running into any of his neighbours. He had a goal and he didn't need distractions or disruptions.
He pulled out his keys and unlocked his room, pushing it open for Edward to come in ahead of him. And then he realised, strangely, that he was letting Edward into his apartment and it was messy and unpleasant. It was dark, it smelled of bleach and weed and their were books on every surface. Where would Edward sit? Would he be repelled and leave? Once Edward inside, he locked the door and moved to turn on some lamps. "I j-j-just moved."
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Edward stepped into the place and looked around, not really surprised by what he saw. Smelled basically like Jonathan, like an underground library where someone smoked weed and cooked meth. Seemed about right. He inspected it with interest anyway, mostly focusing on the books. "So I gather."
He didn't wait for any invite, he started organising the books into more logical piles and freeing up surface space without any hesitation, as if he had every right to do so. "Living alone. I envy that."
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He looked at the coffee table and saw his father's journal was still open and beside it was his own sketches and formulas. He grabbed both and swiftly set them on the floor by his armchair.
"My m-mother was ... eight years ago. F-Father th-this y--year." His stutter was getting worse again, the subject of family seemed to knock him back a step. "D-Drink?"
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He tried to be subtle about it though, simply nodding his head. "Sure, I'll have a drink. Then we are up to two." Really getting close to him feeling obliged to put out. "You are quite the host, Jonny."
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"My f-father was a sc-sc-scientist." Jonathan clarified for him because he found Edward interest quite entertaining. "Psychology." He gestured in the direct of Edward. "It's sh-shit whiskey but it ain't expensive."
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"Is that your area of interest? The study of the human mind." It was intriguing, he couldn't deny that. "I noticed a few patterns with your book collection."
Horror, psychology, philosophy.
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Jonathan cocked his head to the side as he considered his favourite subject areas. "My f-father believed that fear could be cured." He looked at Edward, curious. "I think he's an idiot."
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"Would you want to cure fear? Or do you think that's what made your father an idiot?"
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Nothing was exciting any more. No one made him afraid, no one got to him. He had lived with his father, who could compare? Idiot man, brilliant man. He had no idea. "But I can see it in others. Like you. And that's enough. A contact high."
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He walked over to Jonathan and sat down on one of the arms of the armchair, leaning down to pick up the journal. Not asking for permission, simply picking it up and opening it. He held it open and his free hand ran through Jonathan's hair, because his head was right there. "No more fear, huh? Nothing to make poor Jonny's heart thunder away in his chest."
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"A man can like two things." Jon pointed out as he watched Edward hold his journal. His father's journal. It made his heart race and he didn't quite know why. He leaned his head to the side so he could see what page he was reading. "...Highly anxious individuals manifest increased s-sensitivity to psy-psychological th-threat that translates into enhanced autonomic reactivity and s-superior detection of internal bodily sensations, notably heartbeats."
Jonathan knew the pages almost by heart at this point. "In th-this experiment, I explored cardiac-timing effects on f-fear perception and fear judgment."
With a small laugh, Jonathan looked up at Edward. "That one was th-th-thrilling."
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Fascinating. His own father had about the depth of a dried out puddle, so it was interesting to get an insight into someone who differed so much from that. "You're a fascinating person, Jonathan Crane."
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Yet here was Edward, looking like that. Split lip, dark eyes, that same lovely scent he had. "I'm not afraid of much anymore. I just have a few s-s-side effects." Reaching out, he placed his hand on Edward's thigh and squeezed it in warning. "I would like my journal back now, son."
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He got up, scanning the room again as he walked over to where he'd sat before and draping himself over the sofa again, absently licking his injured lip. "So. Love hurts? Is that the conclusion?"
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At least, in his mind. His father loved him but ruined him, he was cruel but he didn't think he was cruel. He was a man of science, of pure thought, there was no love or empathy on display. Yet his journal seemed to imply otherwise. "People are cruel and they do what they can to achieve what they wanted. Motivated by fear, they storm ahead and trample on everyone they must to reach that end goal that will bring them relief or salvation." Jonathan shrugged, setting the whiskey back down.
He didn't take it personally. People were awful - it was in their nature. "A father can fear his son's weaknesses as much as he can fear his strengths. Anxiety and fear, intelligence and guile."
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"I don't know if your view of people isn't too simplistic. Too focused on fear. There's more that drives them than that. Still, I appreciate the cynicism, I find it oddly refreshing."
Which was perhaps a strange thing to say, but nonetheless true. "I'm a cynic too. See? People never realise that. I like the world as it is. I like taking what I want. Suits me just fine."
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"You have an easy smile. Charisma. Ch-Charm. You don't seem cynical because people can't think beyond first impressions." That's why people preserved him as weak and pathetic because of his stutter. Of course they saw Edward was chipper and never cynical.
"You'd be boring if you were like you seemed. Another p-pretty boy."
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He knew he had charm these days. It was a skill he had had fun practising. "So, you'd not like me if I was just that. A pretty boy." It was a fun thing to call himself, so he had to laugh, shaking his head before leaning forward. Legs spread, he rested his elbows on his knees and looked at Jonathan. "But you do like it. You like that I'm a pretty boy."
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With Edward, he had a roadblock. "I like that you're a little shit." He smirked at him and then leaned forward. "You get under my sk-skin and p-piss me off. Pretty boys just look pretty. Flash in the p-pan. You ain't."
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It was still flattering, he'd say. "Boy howdy. Aren't you a walking red flag?"
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Otherwise, he wouldn't be here. He wouldn't have come. In fact, he would have avoided him. There was some strong danger kink there.
"Do you want to lie down with me?" Jonathan didn't stutter as he asked, looking Edward directly in the eyes. It wasn't an invitation to fuck or to sleep, just a simple statement. "Bedroom's back there."
no subject
There was that same fascination to the question too. The sudden lack of stuttering which belied a sense of confidence while Edward was a little bit at a loss. It was a particular way of wording things. Lie down with him?
He frowned and then simply got to his feet, figuring that was answer enough. Another red flag. He'd follow. "Lead the way, Jonny. Are you tired?"
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