What Tim had come to understand, and came to understand even more intimately with the week that passed, was that Jesse wasn't just another kid. When he'd look at Tim and give him that unnerving chill, that sense that Jesse was looking right through him, it was because he really was. And when he'd touch Tim and make him feel like he was on fire, like it was more right than anything ever had been before in Tim's life...well, maybe it was because nothing had.

The heat was consuming that day, swirling around Tim and nearly suffocating him. The trees of a nearby park were beckoning him, taunting him with their comforting shade. Begrudgingly, he denied them and continued down the sidewalk, assured that if he stayed in one place too long the soles of his boots would melt right onto the hot pavement.

His destination was only a few blocks away from the apartment he and Matt shared. The infamous House Of Toast. Why they called it that, he wasn't really sure. For a long time now it had been a haven for punks, housing tons of different musicians. At any given time there were 10 or more people there, and he was never quite sure who really lived there or was just hanging out. But he loved it nonetheless.

Entering the house, it was apparent that it was one of those days when more than ten people were there. The air was thick with smoke, the clink of beer bottles could be heard over the sounds of people playing guitar, and there were many conversations going on at once. Almost instantly, Tim was dragged aside by Billie Joe, a young punk he knew well who shared his last name, handed a beer and engulfed in a conversation himself.

Off on the other side of the room, a pair of dark eyes had noted Tim's arrival as well, and followed his back as he moved into the kitchen. Jesse didn't make any move to follow him, or even make his presence known. Instead, he lifted a joint to his mouth and took a long hit before passing it. He held in the acrid smoke for a few moments then let it out with a minor cough. He leaned back against the chair he was sitting in and smiled, content to watch the day pass and see what became of it.

Tim had arrived around 4 o'clock in the afternoon, and 7 o'clock saw him getting tipsy and loud, but far from intoxicated. Even more people had shown up throughout the course of the day and there was a full out jam session going on, kids rotating on guitars and basses and even the drum kit and microphone. It was times like these that made everything worth it, everyone in the house was having a good time even though nothing spectacular was being accomplished and the sense of unity was almost tangible in the air.

At some point or another, someone handed the mic to Jesse. He grinned and without much persuasion, started to sing as best he could with the fast beat the other kids were playing. The lyrics were half-formed thoughts of his own, a song he'd yet to really write but something he'd been pondering over.

Tim exitted the kitchen, talking with Billie when the sound of Jesse's voice hit him. It was rougher and angrier than it had sounded before, but he could still remember the sound of it perfectly. Zoning out of the conversation he was having, he listened intently to try to catch the words.

"Integrity is fragile, but you ignored the cost...smiling when your friends are watching, smiling when your friends are watching you!," Jesse was facing the musicians, unaware of the pair of blue eyes focused on his back as he sang. Unaware of practically everything and exhuding a vicious sort of addictive energy. "One night stand, car keys in hand, you've fulfilled your gender's sexual demands...are you feeling insecure and empty when you're rushing to report to your peers? Smiling when your friends are watching..."

The message in the words wasn't lost on Tim, and he felt a blush creeping up his cheeks. He felt like Jesse was standing there with a microphone screaming out every detail of the night they'd shared together, not the vague lyrics he was actually singing. Eventually someone fucked up, and the music stopped. Jesse handed the mic to someone else and turned around, his gaze smoothly coming to rest and locking with Tim's, as if he'd known he was there the whole time.

The blush that had crept up Tim's cheeks deepened intensely as their eyes met and he was all but oblivious to Billie Joe asking him what was wrong. Thankfully, the younger punk looked between Tim and Jesse, caught on and scampered off to engage himself elsewhere. Jesse watched Tim for a moment longer then stepped away from the rest of the instruments and headed out the backdoor without a second look back. As the screen door closed behind him, he wondered if Tim would follow or not.

Jesse leaned against the low fence, watching cars pass on the one-way street behind the house. The screen door slammed again and a smile made it's way onto his face, hearing a pair of boots make their way down the steps of the back porch. Tim didn't join him against the fence, standing a few feet back and watching the back of Jesse's head in the fading sunlight.

"You have a great voice," he broke the semi-silence.

"Thanks," Jesse replied confidently.

"Did you...write that? What you were singing?" Tim stepped a bit closer, and though he was still more than a foot away Jesse could have sworn he felt the heat of Tim's body against his back.

"Yeah," he told Tim, faltering for a second. "You like it?"

Tim didn't respond to the question, other than sighing slightly. Was Matt right about him breaking Jesse? From the tone of his voice, he didn't seem broken. "I'm sorry I left like that...," he started.

"You had to work," Jesse interrupted him. "I know how it goes."

Jesse turned slowly, facing Tim and leaning back against the fence. "Besides, you left a note."

Tim gave a small nod. "So did you."

Smiling, Jesse nodded as well. He didn't say anything, but Tim looked back at him and met his eyes. He found himself floored with everything they conveyed. Jesse wasn't broken, not in the least. Something in that gaze told Tim that he himself was the one who needed to be repaired.

"So?," Jesse lifted his eyebrow very minutely. The single word held so much within it, and Tim knew exactly what he was asking. He didn't know, however, if he'd be able to answer...because he wasn't sure he knew what the answer was.

After a long while of more silence and staring at each other, Jesse arched against the fence and stretched, scratching at his back. There was something innately sexual about the movement, they both realised it. Tim drug his gaze away from Jesse and dug a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He placed one between his lips, lighting it and inhaling harshly.

"What are you hiding from?," Jesse asked suddenly. The words struck the air harshly even though they'd been spoken in a quiet voice.

"What do you mean?," Tim asked him. He felt like he'd be asking that question a lot if he continued to spend time around Jesse.

Nodding towards the cigarette in Tim's hand, Jesse continued. "Smoking. I think most people who smoke do it because it's something to hide behind. The smoke gives them a false sense of mystique, or something...they put a facade to face to world, rather than show their true emotions." He tilted his head. "Is that why you smoke?"

Tim looked at him for a long moment, once again amazed with the depth that the younger boy held. "I smoke because I'm addicted," he told him flatly, not wanting to admit to hiding from anything.

Jesse smirked knowingly. "Addiction's a funny thing, isn't it?"

Tim arched an eyebrow curiously, not wanting to repeat himself with the whole 'What do you mean' thing.

"Well, it's not like anyone does anything to get addicted. I imagine when you picked up your first cigarette you didn't think 'Hey, this will be cool, I'll get addicted to a dangerous substance'. When a junky takes their first hit of heroin, they aren't planning on being a junky. You see what I'm saying?"

Tim conceeded with a nod, and Jesse shrugged, looking away.

"Makes me wonder sometimes why people become addicted to things that are bad for them, rather than things that are good for them," he muttered, then looked back at Tim. "How you feeling?"

Confused by the sudden change of subject, Tim shrugged. "Okay, I guess."

"That's a pretty vague response."

Tim just shrugged again, having no idea what Jesse expected him to say.

"Vague responses piss me the fuck off," Jesse elaborated. "I mean, if someone asks how you feel, you'd assume they actually want to know. They don't want a response like 'Okay, I guess'...they're actually curious. But the thing is, that assumption is wrong a lot of the time. Because people don't care, they don't really want to know how you feel, and the fuck of it is you probably don't even know how you feel right now. Do you?"

He looked at Tim intensely and there was another long stretch of silence.

"You don't have any idea," Jesse told him matter of factly. "When did you stop feeling, Tim? And for the love of God, why?"

Tim looked back at him and made one of the most honest confessions he had in a while, but it wasn't exactly earth shattering aside from the way he said it. "I don't know."

Jesse smiled slightly. "It's never too late to start feeling again." He leaned forward and took the cigarette from between Tim's fingers easily, tossing it onto the ground and crushing it. "Just stop hiding from it."

Tim looked at the ground, where Jesse had put the cigarette out. "How are you feeling?," he asked quietly.

"Pissed off. Confused. Lost. Hopeless," Jesse rambled for a second. Tim looked back up at him.

"Why?"

"You."

Tim nodded. Jesse pushed off of the fence and walked away, to the other side of the yard.

"Where are you going?," Tim called out to him.

"For a walk," Jesse told him, starting around the side of the house. Tim jogged a bit to catch up with him.

"Can I come with you?," he asked once he'd fallen into step with Jesse.

Turning, Jesse smirked at him. "I think you already are."

The pair walked for what seemed like, and probably was, hours. Tim was relieved when the conversation turned away from his supposed inability to feel, even though he couldn't deny that Jesse's words had struck a chord with him. They didn't stay on any one subject for too long, and Tim was surprised to find that Jesse had an opinion or something to say about everything. They talked about religious beliefs and morals, and they talked about soda, and just about everything in between.

Eventually they found themselves outside of Tim's apartment again, and for some reason it was a lot more awkward this time than it had been a week ago. A week ago Jesse had been some kid that Tim took home, and now...well, now he was Jesse. And that one word held a lot more substance than Tim ever thought a name could.

"Do you want to...," Tim started, but stopped once he saw the knowing smile Jesse was giving him. Jesse shook his head.

"Nah. I need to get going home," he told Tim.

Tim looked down at his hands, realising that he really didn't want Jesse to leave. "It was cool hanging out tonight."

"Mmmm," Jesse replied thoughtfully. "It was nice."

"Well...come by, whenever," Tim suggested, stumbling over his words. "I mean...I'd like that. Not just cuz...you know, but..." He shut himself up before he came off as even more stupid than he already felt.

"Thanks," Jesse said, smiling. "I think I might take you up on that."

"Cool...," Tim trailed off, still looking down. The hallway fell silent, but Tim could see Jesse's shoes so it was obvious that he hadn't left. He was about to say something else when Jesse reached out touched the bottom of his chin lightly, forcing him to look up.

Somehow Tim had kept his hands to himself all night, and he found when Jesse touched him it burned more than ever, in the most enjoyable way possible. Jesse searched Tim's eyes for a minute and Tim didn't shy away from the appraisal. Slowly, Jesse leaned towards him and pressed his lips against Tim's very softly.

Tim snaked an arm around Jesse's waist, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. If whatever they had shared the week before was passionate, this was mind-blowing. Every nerve in Tim's body was completely alert, but at the same time the only thing he could sense was Jesse's tongue against his and Jesse's hands in his hair. He was backed up against the wall, holding Jesse to him feircely, and Jesse was clinging just as tightly to him.

Regretfully, Jesse pulled back after a few moments and searched Tim's eyes again. Tim lifted a hand, running it through Jesse's messy blonde hair and looking back at him. Just as he was about to ask him to stay, Jesse cut him off.

"Only if you're here when I wake up."