Pairing: Andrew/Jesse, Andrew-centric.
Summary: It's hard for Andrew, being in love with Jesse.
Warnings: One-sided love.
Word Count: 1147
AN: Written for the TSNathon. GO WINKLEVOSS! Perhaps I'll write a sequel to this, about Andrew going to see Asuncion. What do you guys think?
It's hard for Andrew, being in love with Jesse.
And it's not that Jesse isn't a hard person to love — in fact, that's one of the greatest things about it, the fact that Andrew just finds himself in the middle of loving Jesse whenever he's around, like he's a little less aware of what his feelings do whenever they're in the same room. Like the butterflies actually flutter out of his insides to envelop him and make him gravitate towards Jesse. It's so easy to smile at him like he's a new born baby or something — like he's the beacon of love and hope, and it's so, so easy to tell him how he's the best human being he knows.
But it all gets to Andrew, anyway, in a series of painful pangs in his chest, in the middle of days, in the earliest of mornings. The hurt raptures him, crawl around his chest, makes him twist and turn, wrestle for air in his lungs.
Andrew hates it. But it's not exactly something he can help.
First is the distance. Jesse isn't the first time Andrew became attached to a co-star, and with every single one of his friends, he deals with the same issue. Andrew is such a close-ranged person. He likes to touch, stand beside, and hear people, and he always feels like he's being deprived of smelling the greatest flower, or eating the most magnificent cake whenever filming ends and they have to ripped out of his life for a few months before they're allowed to return to him.
The only difference with Jesse is, well — he's in love with Jesse.
Sometimes Andrew curls up in bed, moments after he's woken up. He purposely tangles the sheets around his body and hugs himself tight, trying to piece back together the memory of waking up in Jesse's bed, his head on Jesse's chest, and the heat that rose to his cheeks when Jesse held on to him tighter. He tries to squeeze the feeling out of himself.
It never works, but Andrew has to at least try, because he owes that to himself.
God, he misses Jesse. He misses him every day, and he constantly comes up with things that he wants to tell Jesse throughout the whole ordeal of the week, but he just can't, not through the phone, not through some fuzzy webcam. Not even in written words. The worst part is that right after thinking such thoughts, Andrew always thinks about how much he needs Jesse.
He needs Jesse here.
Andrew hates it. He wishes he could stop going through the days, dampening his spirits a fraction with the complete lack of Jesse in his life — it's just that it makes everything so dull, now that he knows what having to spend every day with Jesse is like.
Andrew wants to be the person to make Jesse smile so much. He takes pride in it, being able to make Jesse smile wide enough for teeth, and Andrew honestly thinks that Jesse's mouth was made for that purpose exactly — amongst other things. He can never stop the flip of his stomach and the heat in his fingertips whenever Jesse would spot him, take him out of the crowd, and then smile. It knocks all the air out from Andrew's chest, and the only thing he can do to fix it is to hug Jesse.
The warmth that Jesse is makes Andrew's vision blur sometimes, but it makes him relax enough to start breathing again. Then he'll pull back, let his hands stay on Jesse's shoulders. He'll smile his smile, the one that's soft around the edges, lips slightly parted, completely private for Jesse only. After that, he'll tell Jesse, "You're so, so great, Jess, did you know?"
Andrew tries to find things that he doesn't like about Jesse, and sometimes he succeeds — then he humors himself by thinking isn't that how love is, anyway?
Because he's cliche (again — isn't that how love is, anyway?), sometimes he gets to the point where he hates how much Jesse hates himself. It's a little unreasonable, but it gets Andrew so furious, and he just knows what's going through the twists and turns of Jesse's mind when he looks down after somebody tells him that he did a good job — on literally anything, from acting, to washing the dishes. Jesse just won't take it.
Filming with Jesse was nice, because he was there through most of the press, with his arm around Jesse's shoulder. Andrew grinned, nudged Jesse with his hip and said, "I completely agree, he's marvelous, isn't he?" Then he looked at Jesse, smiled at him to let him know that he couldn't be more sincere, and he hoped that if Jesse couldn't take it from one of the country's most known movie reviewers, then maybe Jesse could take it from Andrew.
Andrew wants to sing these ridiculous songs to Jesse, like the one by Bruno Mars with the eyes, and the stars, and the smiles. Sometimes he does, these classic songs that's mandatory for everyone to be aware or — songs about birds appearing, fire, limits, and walls, dreaming dreams, and bright eyes. And sometimes Jesse just ups, turns around, and walks to another room, and Andrew can't stop laughing, but chases him to catch up to him.
Andrew doesn't remember having read all the poetry that gets stuck in his head, but they're there, anyway, and they all seem too… poetryish to have come from him. It's like it comes with having known Jesse, the poetry, and it's not some I think that I shall never see a something lovely as a Jesse bullshit either. He starts reading cummings, and sometimes he stops in the middle to hit his own head because he can't quite believe he got himself into this.
It wouldn't be completely inaccurate to say that Jesse has ruined Andrew's life completely, but Andrew doesn't seem to mind. It sits okay with him sometimes, that in the things he does, his mind finds a way to lasso Jesse from the pits of his mind and all of a sudden, he can't think about yellows and blues without thinking about watching the sun rise with Jesse.
Andrew doesn't mind the feeling his gets in his gut whenever he chances Jesse on screen, and Andrew doesn't mind how the air disappears around him and he can't breathe at the thought of seeing Jesse again.
He thinks his surprise is completely brilliant, and Jesse may even love him for it. He wants to detest anybody who ever doubted whether or not he would see Asuncion because of course he would. Of course he would.
It feels like he can't keep his meal down on the drive to the theater. He thinks that it's hard, being in love with Jesse. But he thinks he'll manage.