Who: Jesse Delacroix, open to the Haus of Sausage What: Introspection When: Late Tuesday night Where: Their house Warnings: Discussions of anxiety/past trauma Notes: I blame this on listening to excessive amounts of The Civil Wars and Iron & Wine.
If he wasn't careful, the porch swing was going to have a permanent indent of Jesse's ass. He was out here so often these days, at odd hours of the day and night. He loved midnight the most, though. The old was fading away, and the new day was quietly creeping into the edges of the world. Stars glittered overhead as Jesse lit a cigarette, exhaling the curling gray smoke into the humid darkness. He'd promised everyone he would quit. It especially wasn't fair to Jess, but sometimes he found himself slipping back into old, bad habits.
He wrapped his free arm around his legs, resting his chin on his knees as he let out a barely audible sigh. By rights, he shouldn't feel like this. He had two partners he wouldn't trade for the world. He had all of his brothers returned to him. They had two children, one of whom was the light of any room he was in, and the other who they couldn't wait to meet.
So why did he still feel so...unsettled?
Jesse snorted, taking another deep drag. That one was easy, if he was really being honest with himself. He was afraid. He was afraid of all of this vanishing in a puff of smoke. It kept him awake at night, the ugly thoughts that kept sleep at bay. Nicky paid for all of this. Jess could vanish with one or both of the kids. He was waiting to be weighed and measured and found wanting, the way he had been his whole life.
A strangled sob tried to force itself out from behind his teeth. God, Jesse hated himself sometimes. He hated that he would even think those things, because Nicky and JJ were not like that. He knew that, he practically had it tattooed on his ribs. But that's the thing about trauma, isn't it? You can think you're fine for years. You can think the wound has scabbed over, you've healed and grown, and then it can rear its ugly head at the most unexpected times.
His cigarette had burned down to mostly ash, and Jesse flicked it away, trying his best to quash the feelings snaking up his throat. He was being ridiculous. He knew that. But feelings weren't rational, and Jesse had years of trauma and coping mechanisms to unlearn. He'd been seeing a counselor every other week, trying to learn healthy coping skills, and if nothing else, it was nice to get all his feelings out to someone who could help him unpack everything.
One of the methods he liked most was the 54321 method. It had helped him more than once, even if he only had to go through the first two steps. He took a deep breath, crossed his legs under him, and sat up straight.
"Start with 5 things you can see," he murmured under his breath, listening to the inhale and exhale, listening to the night unfold around him.