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Yeah. Sorry. Yeah.

You're there?

I'm at home, yeah. Nobody's here.

[Why is no one there? That can't be good. Damn it.]

Okay. I'lll...yeah.

[He's not a fan of this snow bullshit. It's worse than the rain was, and the rain was pretty horrible. But since this is urgent -it feels urgent anyway- he wraps himself up in Lily's light up sweater and Collete's dorky glittering hat and gloves, and the dead guy's coat and boots. There's no time for a pocket check, so he ignores it for the time being and shuffles out into the snow. Fucking winter. Fucking Jesse. Ugh.

Except that when he finally gets there -finally- he can see a problem. Only one set of tracks lead inside, and they aren't Jesse's. He hesitates, not sure what Lisbeth will do if he knocks on her door twice in the same week. Damn it.]

Uh...Jesse?

[He's been kind of wondering what's taking so long, but then again, it's Stan.]

Yeah?

How long have you been back? Just...okay it's stupid, but um. Your footprints aren't out here and I know it's just the pills but in horror movie scenarios always, like, this would be the moment where the audience goes "Stan, don't go in there!" And then I die.

[Wait, there's at least two things he just said that you probably shouldn't mention to a guy that just got back from death by overdose. Shit.]

Edited (That's a new one autocorrect ) 2014-01-12 00:49 (UTC)

[There's a pause as he glances out the window just to confirm that Stan isn't there.]

...Where are you?

...Wait, where are you? I'm here. This is where she lives. I'm positive.

[He was just freaking here a few days ago.]

Oh, shit. I'm not - We don't -

[He sucks in a breath and exhales in a short, mirthless laugh.]

Lisbeth dumped my ass way back. I'm living with Mike.

[There's a soft sound, a surprised inhalation. How's he supposed to avoid saying all the wrong things if no one ever tells him anything? Crap.]

Oh. Uh...I guess I need directions.

Sorry. I forgot... Yeah, hold on.

[He sends over a map he drew a while ago.]

[Now that he knows the right way, Stanley casts one last awkward, unhappy glance at Lisbeth's place and hurries away again. Man, he hates the stupid snow. And walking. And people dying. People really need to stop dying around here.

It takes less time to get from Lisbeth's to Jesse's than from the barn to Lisbeth's, so it's not too long before he's knocking on the door this time. The right door, even.]

[The door opens right away. Jesse's been waiting by it for a while, thinking Stan will probably be freezing by the time he gets there. The house is nice and warm, at least, especially down here by the cast iron furnace. Jesse waves Stan right in.]

Sorry for the mix-up. I couldn't remember if we told anybody or... I just thought everybody knew I was here now.

You never tell me anything.

[Stan says as he enters. It's not in a spiteful tone, not an attempt to provoke an argument. Just a statement of fact as far as he's concerned. He enters without hesitation and leans on the inside wall for a moment, soaking up the heat and shivering. He's got a coat these days, and some boots too. They don't quite fit, which is obvious when he kicks them off. They rub. But they're far warmer than nothing.

He takes a moment to just breathe and shiver, then opens his eyes to see how Jesse is. He hasn't seen the guy since that failed attempt to free him on the moon -which he's lucky only resulted in a couple days of baby moon jail really- and hasn't spoken to him in even longer. Maybe he shouldn't have taken silence as a sign to piss off for a while. He slides down the wall into the little puddle his boots are making, but who cares? It's warm. It's warm and Jesse is back from the dead. A wet ass isn't a big deal.]

[Stan's right, and Jesse drops his gaze in guilt as he shuts the door. For someone so interested in solving other people's problems, he's never been one to open up about his own. It's the whole reason he and Andrea never worked out. And probably why a lot of his friends here are left reeling now.

He killed himself. He killed himself and no one even saw it coming. How could they have, when he leaves them in the dark?]

I'm really sorry.

You should be. Asshole.

[There's no actual venom in the words, though. Stan is sad, confused, anxious...but not angry. He wants to be, but he can't. He's too full of adrenaline , still shaking even now that he's inside. For a guy with a not quite girlfriend who attempts suicide almost like clockwork, he's surprisingly shaken by it. He slips in the puddle when he tries to stand, but catches himself on the wall before he eats floorboards.]

Why? Jesse...did you tell Lisbeth it wasn't her? She needs to know that.

[It's weird to find himself relating to Lisbeth for the second time in a week, but there it is. It feels like absolute shit to have someone try to kill themselves over you. And Lisbeth is screwed up enough. Jesse will understand, right? That he can't leave that hanging over her head?]

[Jesse looks up. He hasn't spoken to Lisbeth yet. He's still coming to terms with the reality of what happened, himself, still searching for the reason. The idea that Lisbeth would be blaming herself... But of course she would. Didn't he blame himself for Jane? God, of course she would.]

I'm gonna tell her. I will. It wasn't her. I don't know what it was, but it wasn't her. She did what she needed to do. I got that. I wasn't - I wasn't mad at her. Or... Christ, she's gotta know that.

Yeah? What if she doesn't?

[This time when Stan starts to slip he grabs hold of Jesse instead, but it doesn't overshadow his intent. Looking stupid isn't new to him anyway. He just rolls with it, and stares Jesse down for a second. This is important.]

She doesn't know if you didn't tell her. Don't make her guess. People can't guess everything.

[Jesse jerks back instinctively when Stan grabs hold of him - but it's just Stan, so he forces himself to relax. And takes a breath.]

No, yeah, I mean - I'm gonna tell her. I just... I'll call her. Soon. I just gotta... I gotta get my head straight. I can't fuck it up. With her.

[The jerking should make him let go an back off, but he's too busy trying to process what Jesse just said. Hasn't the dude already fucked it up with Lisbeth anyway, if they're not together anymore? It's probably not time to point that out, though. Stanley just sighs, and sinks own into a partial crouch again. Either his knees aren't working properly due to being fucking frozen, or his knees aren't working properly for the same reason his stomach is in knots and his hands are still shaking.

He decides it'll look less stupid to just sit own, pries his fingers off of Jesse's shirt and sinks to take a seat on the floor. This time he doesn't look up again. He's mad at Jesse. He's really mad at Jesse. He has to keep thinking about it, because it's tough to feel it right now. Tough to let go and sit own and try to act normal, because none of this is normal. It's a lot to handle. Whatever Jesse might say, he's obviously not alright either. Guys don't flinch away from Stan. He's not stupid. Well... only a little stupid, anyway.]

She was sad. She missed you.

[He watches Stan slowly collapse in on himself, and a moment later, Jesse sinks down to join him. He hugs his knees and stares at the kid for a minute. He's not so sure they're just talking about Lisbeth now, which makes him feel extra sorry. Hell, this whole thing is just one big damn sorry situation. He didn't mean to do this to any of them. He wishes he could at least remember what was going through his head so he could explain it to them, but he's as mystified as the rest of them.

He wavers between letting the silence drag on or breaking it, even though he doesn't have anything to say for himself. A hug might be prudent, but that's less easy now. He can't convince his arms to move.

Finally, he offers weakly:]

It won't happen again, Stan.

[That gets him to look up, with a renewed sense of shock and horror. In spite of all the ugly repetitions in this place, death among them, it hasn't occurred to him that there might be an "again." Not until Jesse says it. It sucks the breath right out of his lungs, a sucker punch with words. If only people could stop blindsiding him with things that should be obvious, maybe he could at least get a guard up once in a while. But he never does. He hisses softly, unable to articulate himself at the moment. Time out.]

Jesus.

[He didn't think the concept could be shocking. He's here, isn't he, and he isn't a ghost (no matter how much he feels like one) so of course it can happen again. Can and won't.

But clearly that was the wrong thing to say, so Jesse gives Stan an apologetic shake of his head.]

I mean I'm never touching dope again. Ever.

[Words are still caught in his throat, and maybe partly because he doesn't know what to say. Instead he finds himself throwing a quick jab at Jesse's shoulder, the sort of response that usually goes along with mild disagreements or unexpected insults. He's not even sure why he just did that until he remembers to remind himself again that he's mad at Jesse.

Oh. Right. Well, it wasn't a very hard punch anyway. He's not the kind of guy that throws his weight into those things, not unless he really means business. Right now all he wants is some kind of reassurance. Which it sort of provides, during that very brief moment where his knuckles connect. Jesse is solid and warm. Alive. There. Probably even real.Stan sighs in relief and drops his face into his knees. He surprises himself again with the next breath.]

Just stop disappearing, okay?

[It's fine. He kind of expected that one, maybe along with some yeah rights and I'll believe it when I see its. That remorseful look doesn't leave his face.]

Okay.

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lazyinlove - 2014-01-18 16:17 (UTC) - Expand