Reaction
He gets it. The split second before it slides in to play. Jamie's not betting on the town fucking around even if it is a holiday that rolls around each year and the town's weird moments line up bang on the dot with yearly celebrations. Have some candy, and someone else's shit to deal with. He's mad. Right now, he's mad, in the apartment and he's barrelling out toward the rec center, toward the empty studio where he's got a key and he can go take the mad, the weird, fizzed feeling jammed in his throat to the studio.
It hits him like a wave, back of the knees except he's standing. Like, the first time he sees the fucking plant, he knows, right? The obsessional thing. It's a whole thing, that plant and he wants to leave the plant there, like, see you tokenistic representation of an obsession or whatever, but nope. The plant's coming with. It's the guy coming back that Jamie wants to like, totally take a pass from. Yeah, nope. Hard nope, the guy's not into it, or him, enough that the balls he keeps throwing get caught, batted back, whatever. He feels secondhand embarrassment AND embarrassment at the same time. The notebook thing doesn't register all the way, Jamie's trying to figure out the layers of feelings going on here, and all that emotion is clotting up, his heart's pounding like a million beats a second.
Come on, asshole. Your job? Jamie wants to hit the guy, kiss him again, something, anything but like, that bullshit. Same here? ASSHOLE, and he's left with the vague feeling of rejection, of sadness, of the corrosive way in which feeling that much about someone else drains out the bottom of you, underneath his own fucking pissed. And maybe a little pity, for the guy who has no idea that shit was him. It's someone's. He's been living in Repose way too long for it to be anything else. Someone has no idea that shit is walking around without him to hold onto it and Jamie's pissed, but he slows on the way to the studio, residual whatever clinging to his back teeth.