A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out. This series is a sequel to my story Brothers. If you haven't read that, this may not make a whole lot of sense. Sorry, it takes a little while to get going.
This story centers around gay incest. Don't like it, don't read it.
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One year, eleven months and six days since the last time I saw or heard from Jesse. It wasn't by choice.
I had come back from the sleazy hotel to find Jesse and all of his material possessions gone. He took all of his clothes, all his pictures, everything. All that was left was his furniture, now barren, and his baseball jersey, which he'd forgotten in my equipment bag.
I was ashamed to admit that even now, nearly two years later, I still slept with it. I held it to my face, breathing it in. It didn't smell like him anymore, but it comforted me at least a little. My fingers ran over the numbers, tracing the blue outlines, 32.
We both had the same favourite number, 23. But I joined the team a year earlier, so he reversed it. I wish I'd have let him take my number.
He'd missed a lot in the two years he'd been gone. He'd missed my birthdays, my 21st and 22nd. He missed my graduation, I graduated with a degree in English, go figure. I quit the baseball team after he left, so it was really the only subject I cared enough about to fall back on. I'm sure I'd missed a lot in his life. I'd missed his 19th and 20th birthdays. That was hard to deal with.
I tried messaging him on Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, Instagram and I even tried his old MySpace page. But all the accounts were deactivated. Whether this was my father's doing, or Jesse's, I had no idea. I tried phoning my father's home and cell. The numbers had changed. I tried mailing him letters to my father's old address, but they were returned to me, unopened. My father had sold the house and gone someplace else. I tried phoning my mother, but she didn't know anything about where my father was. She hadn't been keeping tabs on him since the divorce.
It was like Jesse had managed to just disappear into thin air. The worst part though, was that I didn't know if it was because he wanted to, or my father wanted him to.
Jesse lied. He told me he wasn't going to leave. He told me he trusted me.
I thought he loved me, but maybe he didn't. Maybe he fell out of love. Maybe it was too heavy. I just wished I knew, then at least I could try to move on.
Right now though, there was nothing to move on to. I had a degree in English, what job could I possibly manage to get with that? I couldn't move on sexually. Not only was I completely confused about my sexuality and role in the bedroom, but I couldn't even find anyone attractive. Jesse ruined me.
My phone buzzed loudly from the bedside table, and I leaned over carelessly, picking it up.
"Hello?" I asked dully.
"Hi honey! I'm in the neighbourhood, can I stop by?" It was my mother. I rolled my eyes. My mother and I had a rocky relationship. She used to be super religious when I still had to live with her. But after I moved out, she went on a trip to Mexico, met some guy and now she was pretty... loose, to put it bluntly. I didn't really care, at least she was cheerful now. I wasn't, however, in the mood for a visit.
"I'm tired." I said, lamely. My voice was flat and dull. Whatever, I'm sure that sounded tired enough.
"Oh, c'mon honey. Jason's coming, he wants to meet you!" She chirped. Fuck, there was no way she'd leave me alone if her boyfriend was coming to meet me. She'd pressure me until I gave in just so she wouldn't look bad.
"Fine, fine. But don't expect me to be in a good mood." I grumbled, hanging up the phone.
I slid out of bed, pulling on a pair of old discarded jeans. Did they smell? I didn't care. I pulled off my t-shirt and threw on Jesse's baseball jersey. It was weird and ritualistic, but when I felt like I had hard times ahead, I wore it. It helped me through.
I waited in the living room for my mother and her latest squeeze to arrive. My mother lived about an hour and a half away, so if she was "in the neighbourhood" then clearly she was coming here for big news. Maybe her and Jason were getting married. I hoped so. Then she'd go on a honeymoon and be out of my hair for a few weeks.
They arrived quickly, my mother didn't bother to knock, but rather walked right in. It was fine with me, saved me the trouble of having to get up.
My mom looked good, I could admit it. Her dark brown hair was pinned up in a loose bun, she was wearing a cleavage bearing dark blue dress- something she wouldn't have been caught dead in before her mysterious trip to Mexico, but whatever. Her boyfriend, Jason, was attractive. He looked maybe five years older than my mother, if I were to guess I'd say he was in his mid-fifties. His black hair had grey in it, and he was wearing a suit.
We exchanged the expected pleasantries, shaking hands and introducing ourselves and discussing the weather. I offered them each a cup of coffee, which they both turned down. I got myself a glass of water. When all that bullshit was over, Jason and Mom took a seat on the couch opposite me, and Mom looked at me with excitement in her green eyes.
"So, what's going on? It has to be something big, or else you would've just phoned." I said, my fingers slowly stroked the sides of my glass, making tracks in the condensation.
"Okay, okay, you caught us," My mother said, laughing cheerfully. "Your father told me not to tell you until next week, but I just couldn't wait, because I knew you'd be so excited,"
My interest piqued. She'd been in contact with my father. She had his number at the very least. I grinned, my heart beginning to beat quickly, my breath rapidly becoming ragged.
"Jesse's getting married!"
My hand clenched around the glass and it shattered, breaking off into pieces in my palm, water spreading all over my jeans.
"Oh! Oh, dear! I didn't think you'd be that excited." My mother said. I stared at her. My hand should hurt, there were pieces of glass sticking out of it, but my brain wasn't registering it. It was taking everything I had to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over.
Jason moved quickly, running into the bathroom and grabbing a towel and the first aid kit. He took my hand in his, palm up.
"Just have to remove these glass shards..." He mumbled awkwardly, fishing in the kit for a pair of tweezers. I was still staring at my mother, paying him no notice.
"What do you mean, he's getting married? When?" I asked, my voice quiet and wavering. There was a sharp stinging in my hand but I ignored it.
"Well, he's getting married next week. His rehearsal dinner's tomorrow night though, because his bride wanted to make sure everything was perfect. You know, they'd have enough time to fix everything if something went wrong." She babbled, completely oblivious to the fact that my heart had shattered just like the glass I'd been holding. She continued.
"Your father didn't want me to tell you, said that you'd want to take over the planning or something, but I told him, 'no, no, no' that you'd behave yourself. Wouldn't get to be too much of a perfectionist, you know you can be sometimes- Jason, honey, you have to clean the wound before you put the bandage on."
I stared at her, shocked.
"The rehearsal dinner is tomorrow night? Are you going?" I asked quietly. Jason was still fumbling with the bandages like a fucking idiot. I continued to ignore him.
