jesseelmassalamy

[jesseelmassalamy]

For the Boston native this was just another day. One that he would have to do his best to get through with as much avoidance as necessary to not let his thoughts dip back into the past. With his late wife Valentine's Day had never been a big romantic gesture of a day, perhaps because Ashlee hadn't been well for many years, but was something cute and fun.

They had cute festive dates and gifted one another with something silly rather than over the top. Unlike the couple off to one side of The Midnight Club who were having a small celebration with their friends and likely some family over someone saying 'yes' to a proposal of marriage.

In the barista's humble opinion today was not the day for those particular life changing moments. The day should've been dedicated to something on it's own rather than a consumer's holiday.

When ocean eyes peered down at the two faces in front of him across the counter he wore a polite smile and nodded at the blonde's order. The toddler on the woman's hip had caught his attention due to how familiar she looked, and it would only take a moment for the man with too keen of a memory to place her.

Atlas Williams little blonde.

The last time he'd been to the construction worker's house in Bighorn he'd seen pictures of the adorable little one about his dwelling.

"Yeah," he rasped, gaze flickering away from the cute child to the celebration and back to the woman in front of him, "they just got engaged." Considering the pair embracing and kissing Jesse was certain she'd understand the they. "Any chocolate drizzle or graham cracker sprinkles on that drink for the little one?"

A black coffee was place in front of her after slipping away for a moment. He was beginning the prep work on the toddler's drink when he ventured to ask— "is that Maggie? Atlas' little one?"

Realizing how that came off Jesse quickly corrected with a slight chuckle, "well, yours and Atlas little one. I only ask because I've seen pictures of her at his home and he's mentioned her."

— jesse el-massalamy the midnight club. prompt: celebration.

It wasn't often that Sage wandered outside of Claret and even when she did, it was mostly to Bighorn to either drop Maggie off at her dad's or hit the mountain trails and sometimes downtown. But the idea of a cute lowkey Valentine's coffee date with her daughter at The Midnight Club was too good to pass up, especially when she wasn't going to see her that weekend while the toddler was with her father. Every second spent with Maggie was a second she cherished and it was always fun to get out of the house and teach the tiny monster how to be a human being in typical social situations. Thankfully, it didn't take much wrestling to get the toddler into a nice outfit, even managing to sneak a red bow into her blonde curls before they left the house and made their way to The Midnight Club. The event was cute, the coffee shop decorated from head to toe for the season, and the music that floated from the live acoustic artist on the stage, soft love songs that couldn't help but make her think of the weekend to come, were just quiet enough for her to place her order with the barista at the counter. "Just a black coffee, no room," Sage requested. Glancing at his name tag, she could see the name Jesse written in a fancy print, but could never quite figure out whether it would be weird to address a barista or waiter by their name (part of the reason why she asked her girls at The Jagged Yard to decide on a work name) and instead questioned, "And, uh, if we could have a warm milk with a pump or two of toasted marshmallow, it would make her day." The older blonde tickled the stomach of the toddler on her hip teasingly, nose scrunched in an amused expression, before her gaze fell back to the barista. Her attention was momentarily snagged by a loud cheering not far off, a group of clearly happy people drowning out the musing. "Sounds like someone is celebrating something," She commented off hand, missing exactly what had happened prior.

@jesseelmassalamy

#01 › sage franklin. #providence.task #if that was bad then i sure as heck don't know what to call my writing 🪦

[jesseelmassalamy]

"I can understand that." Sometimes being left to one's own thoughts and devices could lead to self-destruction. Jesse was a statistic of that. Evidence. Proof. At nearly three years of sobriety he still struggled with intrusive thoughts. Mostly it was due to the guilt and past that haunted him. "As a cop I had learned just how important silences were. Most people, if you remain quiet will be like you and try to fill them. That was often where and how we would catch people slipping up."

Silence was not only golden, it was power.

"Eventually you'll have to learn how to counter those thoughts. Whether its music, counter thoughts, or a person— if you want to be here then you have to step up and fight that battle." The words were only spoken as someone who'd been there and unfortunately more than once since Jesse had given up a couple of times.

Once more the Boston native nodded and surveyed Atlas, looking for answers of what was going on under the surface of the rare man taller than himself. Clearly the construction worker was troubled, he just didn't know how much or by what. While he didn't need to know the other's business to help him, it would certainly help Jesse navigate and find a way through the turmoil. Because that was the only resolve; there was no more going around the problem.

That was how bottles ended up empty and into the veins of bodies that weren't meant for that poison.

"Then you have to face it." It wasn't meant to be said so point blank, there was just no other way. "I was like you and I'm mostly still there, working through these things I've done and what had happened, but avoidance only makes things worse in the long run. Whatever it is, you have to start meeting it head on." Easier said than done, perhaps Jesse could be proof that it works. It wasn't a fast turnaround but he was no longer trying to drink himself into a grave.

Before the barista answered, he sipped his coffee and watched Atlas. As a former cop he couldn't stop the habits of reading people, every little action and expression. It was how he knew things and surprised people by what he had picked up.

"I wouldn't say we had a bad relationship. We didn't really know each other, something I realized only when looking back," Jesse confessed. There were no qualms in opening up to Atlas for whatever reason. Maybe because they were connected in recovery. Though, it could've been something more and unspoken, a kinship forged in hardship. "My father worked all the time. He was a very well known and all important attorney in Boston, so he was never home, then he went on to become a judge. Our conversations and interactions were mostly based on making sure I followed in his footsteps."

Which, when the barista hadn't, had been the first fracture between himself and his family. He'd become the letdown, the disappointment, because for whatever reason falling in love and being a policeman was nothing noble.

The recovering alcoholic glanced up to where he'd discerned the bottles were and then nodded at Atlas's hesitance. "Its okay if you're not ready. Cold turkey isn't for everyone, and if a tapering off is more your speed that's fine." There was a bob in his throat and Jesse eased the collar of his shirt off his neck momentarily.

Thirst never truly went away, he'd sat there and listened to twenty-year clean and sober chip awardees speak of how badly they wanted a drop sometimes. And, well, Jesse was only human.

Thankfully, he'd gotten good at shoving those wants down.

"If I were her I probably wouldn't believe you either," he said, amusement colored his features. It was an attempt to make things a little lighter. "I have to admit, the whole thing has me intrigued, not just because of the itch of being a former cop." The woman with the missing sister had come in a time or two and had explained as best she could and his instincts had told him that something darker was at play.

The wrong person had been crossed and the missing would likely remain that way.

At being called a good man something in him recoiled and ocean eyes darkened as they locked with earthy tones of the other man's. "You only say that because you don't know what I've done." There was a reason he was ladened with guilt. There was a reason he'd exiled himself from his family and hometown. "I have a lot to make up for, and sometimes I fear the penance will be never ending." It was difficult when no light could be seen at the end of the tunnel.

People like Atlas made the days a bit easier, but the barista wasn't sure if that would be enough in the end.

There were Aysel and Zuri breaking down the walls around his heart, he just wasn't confident neither would run once they saw what was in his chest.

The barista's hand reached for Atlas's and held onto the firm grip. "I know. You've been there for me anytime I've texted." He wanted to assure that he hadn't nor would he ever forget that. "No matter what," he echoed, meaning that the construction worker was within his rights to consider it all the same.

Then Jesse sucked in a breath and slowly nodded his head before adding, "chosen family rarely is." / @atlaswilliams

Humor was his first line of defense. He'd toss out a joke to mask the emotion raging within. Sometimes, it worked favorably, while others, it backfired beyond fix. The cool delivery from the other male offered a blanket of comfort and understanding.

Silence was okay. Silence was normal. Silence was... sometimes inevitable.

"That's my problem. I tend to fill the silence with bullshit," he countered, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. When in doubt, he'd ramble on and on until someone on the other side silenced him. "I'm not so good with my own thoughts."

He was his own worst enemy. When left to his own devices, negativity spread into his bones like a wildfire and consumed him from the inside out. If derailed his own life, if he made the active decision to ruin things... no one else could do that for him.

The quiet drumming against the ceramic mug was a nervous habit. There was no beat in particular he tapped, but the low thud of every drop of his finger brought him comfort. That, and the occasional hold of Jesse's oceanic gaze.

Atlas couldn't look into those calming waves of blue as the barista spoke. Instead, his focus dropped to the floor in front of the stove. He'd sat there, curled up and broken from a mistake that hadn't even been his own. The drumming against the mug ceased and his chest tightened at the memory. One major screw up that could have changed everything... that would have changed everything had strings not been pulled in his favor.

"I want to forget too. I don't want to be stuck on this loop, you know? It doesn't really help anyway." It often made him sick to the point of the bathroom floor being the only place he could find an ounce of reprieve. The cool tiled floor wasn't meant to be a safe haven.

Helpful or not, it hadn't stopped him from reaching the bottle. He lowered his mug to the marble countertop of the island, the coffee within all but drained. His palms rested flat against the cool surface, his heart hammered from the emotional high and the caffeine he'd sucked down.

Was he like James? The stand-in father that had kept a safe distance his whole life? It seemed unlikely. "Did you and your old man get along?" It wasn't an intentional push for information, but the untamed curiosity within him had gotten the best of him. "I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that."

There was no expectation of anger from the man who'd only shown him a gentle handed approach. Unlike his mother's quick-to-temper responses, Jesse had shown him nothing but kindness, even in unplanned times.

Behind an oak door were half empty bottles and unbroken seals on others. "I want to say yes, but I don't know." He could dump every bottle within, but if the temptation hit him like a brick, he knew where the liquor store was and having free roam to the shelves seemed far more dangerous than the collection he'd built in his own home.

The construction worker nodded slowly, his jaw aching from the pressure of grinding teeth. He was innocent, even if she didn't believe it. "She showed up here all pissed off and accusatory. I get it, you know? I don't have to be a genius to know how it looks to her, but she wouldn't believe a goddamn word I said." And why would she buy into any of it? He'd pushed back and let his own temper get the best of him.

A tragic example of being ill-tempered like his mother.

Life had given him a chance to do right by his family forged by impulsive decisions. If he'd stayed in Colorado, if he'd talked out his emotions rather than burying them in a bartender... things could have been different, but they weren't and against every odd, it had made him a better man. "You're right. About everything." His mother had held far too much control over him for years, even when he claimed indifference, her opinion still mattered.

"You're a good man, Jesse." It was an understatement, but he'd never been more confident in another statement. The barista, despite his own darkness, was one of the best people he'd ever had the pleasure of knowing. "And you don't have to be the one who apologizes for my family's stuff. I appreciate it."

Another apology danced on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it down and nodded in acknowledgement. "You aren't along either. I'm always just a text or a call away. No matter what," he assured with a outstretched hand towards the other. He had a half mind to round the island, to wrap the other in a tight, two armed hug, but a formal shake seemed like the safer play. "Family doesn't have to be a bad thing." As far as he was concerned, Jesse felt more like family than his own flesh and blood.

@jesseelmassalamy

#04 › atlas williams. #alcoholism tw #murder tw #missing persons tw #shut up #i'm not fucking crying #YOU are

[jesseelmassalamy]

If Jesse were to be outright asked what was transpiring between himself and Aysel he wouldn't be able to offer a clear answer. Sure, the barista felt different in her company and was beginning to understand that there was more to their connection than simply having fun dating and screwing. Like they had the first time around.

Things were deeper now. They'd each shared some of their darkness and neither had run away, he and Aysel had carefully circled each other, but the continued this slow progression to where they found themselves now.

When she was physically gone from Providence Peak Jesse did miss the strong-willed woman. He'd been given notice of her travels and would text her or send voice memos of places to possibly visit and restaurants to try. The Bostonian had even gone as far as buying tickets for her and leaving them at the ballet and opera for Aysel to pick up.

It was her response that had surprised him. While he figured she'd be busy galavanting around, she'd spared some quality time with him and Jesse found himself craving more and more of the sounds she'd made and the sights of her flesh. She was fucking incredible. Not just as a sensual being, but the way she'd opened herself up to culture and adventure.

"I am," he responded with a grin and a hand moved up to rub at the short beard along his jaw. "Is that okay?" Knowing Aysel wasn't much of one, or even a romantic at all, had compelled some hesitation. It was just clear that if he were opening that part of himself up to her then there were definite feelings at play.

The way she demanded a kiss from him made his head spin. Ocean eyes were nearly dizzy with adoration and interested as he clasped her chin gently in his strong hand and stole another spot of affection from her lips before she could cleanly get away with her teasing. "You're too much," but his smile indicated that it'd been meant in a good way. As a compliment.

In the woman beside him was a leggy, fiery independence that he admired but also was intrigued by. His interest in her possibly bordered on addiction, especially with sex welcomed back into their world. Yet, the Boston native found that he followed any which way she strolled. "A nightmare?" Brow creased, never once thinking of her that way. Perhaps it had something to do with his own darkness that lurked within.

"Goddesses are hellacious creatures, so maybe it's not an argument to be had."

As she said it, Jesse could picture it— a black, figure hugging flamenco dress and a red flower stuck behind her ear. The image conjured up in his mind let alone was enough to make his pupils dilate briefly, and he'd give anything to have a passionate dance across a makeshift dance floor that spoke to something real.

The mentions of visiting where her family were from brought about a nod and he wasn't sure if those were journeys she wanted to take on her own or if company was desired, so he was hesitant on making any offer. "You should do that. Türkiye is beautiful." Most of the time spent there he had been drunk, but in youth his family had done a vacation there a time or two. Croatia was a place he'd actually had one of his blackouts so he kept his visit there to himself, that had been a really dark time.

Without thought, as she spoke of the sun and warmth, his hand slid into hers as they continued strolling. "Then you should go to Morocco." Which wasn't too far from the south of Spain. "I've actually been wanting to go to Egypt and Africa. My father's family is from there and it would be nice to get in touch with where my surname is from." / @ayselkarademir

There was a clear change in her demeanor upon seeing Jesse for the first time since her return to Providence Peak. One that, Aysel was certain people could not distinguish as she had mastered the art of hiding her emotions from such a young age. One, that not even Aysel herself would have foreseen, alas, it was there. For the first time in what seemed to be a long time, there was a warmth in her chest, caused solely by the man standing next to her. For the first time in a long time, she did not fear it.

Not entirely, at least.

With her arm laced around his, Aysel strolled the downtown streets alongside the tall Bostonian, sharing little anecdotes from her European getaway, which, proved to be even better with Jesse's company, despite the long-distance and the odd hours separating them.

To her, it was exciting to receive a good-morning text from him in the middle of her afternoon, to be able to find him awake as she sent him pictures of her hotel bed, to fall asleep remembering the sounds he would make, provoked by their FaceTiming activities. Just thinking about it sometimes, would cause her skin to tingle. If said out loud, Aysel was certain the tall blonde would disagree with her, but Jesse el-Massalamy was exciting.

As her dark hues found his sad, soulful oceanic orbs after his question, Aysel wondered if they were finally taking steps towards the right direction, which, was an uncommon thought for her to have in the first place. She had not cared much for romantic relationships, hardly ever pondered about the directions they were taking, so what was it about Jesse that sparked those thoughts in her? What was it about the mysterious Bostonian that had her heart opening up and welcoming him like that?

"Romantic?" She questioned, a playful smirk toying on her red-tinted lips. "My, my, is Jesse el-Massalamy... romantic?" Her lips parted in faux-surprise, a gasp escaping from them as soon as she said the word, humour evident in her tone as her free hand moved up his chest and tugged on his thick scarf, prompting him downward to steal a kiss from his lips. It didn't last long, though. Not because they were in the middle of the street, because Aysel couldn't care less about those sorts of things, but mostly, because she liked teasing him like that. "I have not, no. But funny... most people would describe me as a nightmare." A title she would wear with pride in this town, flaunting her presence anywhere there were people who despised her origins and thought less of her. "Can't say I disagree." The brunette chuckled.

This was nice, though. Casual conversation, the absence of weight they had once carried in each word to each other... it had all been thanks to their constant contact during her new year's getaway.

"You should take me there, then." Aysel suggested casually, even adding an innocent shrug to her words as her gaze found his. "I can be your Flamenco dream and your Andalusian mystery." You know... casually putting it out there, since she was on the topic. "But, to answer your question fairly, I think I'd like to see more places in Türkiye next." It had been in her plans for quite some time, but the life of a businessowner was not an easy one, despite all of the money her late husband had left her. "My family is from there and I have only been to Istambul—" A place she had gone with her late husband, and, which she didn't have the nicest memories of, but of course, Aysel didn't say it out loud. "Also, I'd love to check the Croatian coast during summer." She stretched out her arms in front of herself, dreading for the warm sunlight to come sooner. "I miss the warmth. But... what about you? Where would you like to visit in a next trip?" / @jesseelmassalamy

#05 › aysel karademir. #and then there's me #who never makes anything shorter

[jesseelmassalamy]

"You know I would never," he claimed as his feet carried him into the kitchen, following not too far behind Sara. With his hands in his pockets, he took in just how petite she was as she held onto the bouquet he'd gifted her. No matter where he went it always took him a moment to let himself acclimate and feel at home, at least in the event he was somewhere familiar.

Once she'd set the water in front of him, Jesse took a sip after he thanked her, then moved to find a vase for the flowers. "Gotta love how you always remind me of my place," he jested as he freed the blooms and began to arrange them in the glass display. "How is Binnie?" Ocean eyes had the barista's head turning this way and that as though the boy would come waltzing into the room any moment. "He off with friends?"

The smells filling Sara's kitchen were incredible. When it came to home cooked meals and care, Jesse only received this treatment whenever he was at her place or her dads'. He relished these times.

If it weren't for her reaction then the Boston native might not have zeroed in so much on what he had been reading off the young woman he'd grown up with and considered more family than his own biological sister. His brow lifted at Sara nearly choking on her water and soon a small smile followed. "Unfortunately, I think I simply know you too well and I'm an observant man."

Whatever it was, Jesse was seeing the anxiety and nerves shake her, not allowing her stillness or peace. He watched as she fidgeted and tapped her fingers and wondered would could have the power to twist her up so much. Something told him it wasn't the most negative thing in the world, her behavior would be different if she were hurting.

What he wouldn't have guessed was what eventually came out of her mouth.

Eyes widened in a bit of surprise and his own hands stilled for a moment as he digested the confession along with the name. Her sex life was none of the barista's business and he stayed out of it unless Sara wanted to talk to him about it.

Perhaps his own reaction beyond the initial surprise was to be even more unexpected. Jesse shrugged his thick shoulders.

"He was your husband at one point and—" There was a thick swallow just before he went for his glass of water and swallowed down his own personal experiences. "The love doesn't just stop." Not that he was sure his friend was still in love with Hyun Woo, he was only certain that relationships and emotions and needs were a hell of a lot more complicated than people gave room to.

"Are you still seeing him?" The man's rasp was without judgement as he leaned forward into his palms as the heels rested against the edge of the marble island.

"Don't beat yourself up. You've been lonely, there was alcohol, and it was New Years. It's not weird that you sought comfort. Especially not from someone so familiar to you." / @sarayoon

Regardless of the cold weather outside, whenever Jesse pulled her in and held her close, there had always been warmth in his actions. Despite what had happened to him, despite what he'd gone through, despite his demons, Jesse had always been warm. So when he offered Sara some flowers and wrapped his arms around her, it soothed her worries for a split second.

For that moment alone, Sara didn't think about the weight that her careless actions in the New Year's party were putting on her shoulders. For that split second, she was being comforted.

Sadly, that was how long it lasted: a partial second. Before she knew, she was back to worrying about everything and anything, and so, making conversation and smooching Jesse's face were her way to distract herself from the imminent point of telling him what had been troubling her all those weeks.

"These are lovely, uncle J." Sara smiled up at him as she brought the flowers up to her nose and took in their scents. Then, she walked further into her house, waving her hand so that Jesse could follow her, although, he didn't exactly need the invite since he was family anyway. "Psh. Prickling my lips. My lips are perfectly fine, thank you. Besides, they are more than used to smooching your face, and whether you like it or not, you'll have to pry me away from keep doing it." She teased, making a face at him just like she used to back when they were little and Jesse said something she didn't agree with. Or to annoy him, like little sisters often did.

It went without saying that cooking for Jesse was never truly an effort. Cooking often got her mind off of things as Sara's brain would never shut up, and, as of lately, had been blasting siren sounds each time she was left to her own devices, so of course it was no trouble. "As if I would go all the way to make anyone else's favorite." She rolled her eyes in jest. Probably her dads' favorites or Hanbin's, but Jesse was worth the effort, whether he liked it or not. "Please. As if I didn't love spoiling my second favorite guy in the world. It's about time you accept it, you know?" She said as she reached up for one of the glasses and then proceeded to fill it with water, then, placed it in front of him

Sara had just filled a glass for herself and was halfway through a sip when his comment made her choke on the drink. How the hell did he know? But then again, in so many ways, he always knew. Jesse was one of those people who could read her as easily as a kiddy's book. The one with colorful pictures and no intricate dialogue, or no dialogue at all in it. And Sara knew she was as transparent as ice, but for God's sake, she wasn't expecting him to pick up on the fact that something was up this early on. Despite the teasing tone easily deciphered on his voice, given her reaction to it, it would be stupid to deny.

"How is that you always know?" She mumbled, almost in a childish way as she wiped the corners of her lips on the sleeve of her sweater, and then, let out a sigh. Palms pressing onto the cold marble of the kitchen island, Sara stared down at her hands, trying to decide whether she would circle the truth some more or go straight to the point. Fingers tapped on the surface, indicating an obvious anxiety there. Another deep breath, and Sara chewed softly on her bottom lip. "I... slept with someone." Straight to the point it was, then. "At New Year's Eve." Finally, she raised her gaze to meet his. "It was Hyun Woo."

Although she was ready for the judgment that would come along with the reveal of the person she'd stupidly chosen to spend the night with that night, Sara was quick to intervene and kept on speaking. "I know it was stupid. I know. But there was alcohol involved and you know nothing good can come out of it when there's alcohol involved, and I was lonely and he was there and before I could stop myself, I was already naked on top of him." Which, was something stupid to say, because she wasn't drunk enough to impair her decision-making, and they still had to go to a hotel, and there was the elevator, and...

She could've stopped. She just didn't want to be alone that night.

Admitting defeat, Sara groaned, lowering her head and resting it over her arms as she crossed them on the kitchen island. "Why am I like this? I complained about giving my heart to someone who didn't want me, and then went ahead and screwed someone I shouldn't." / @jesseelmassalamy

#04 › sara yoon castillo.

[jesseelmassalamy]

What Jesse would give for any kind of escape and reprieve from the dark recesses of his mind. Guilt bowed his shoulders and the burdens of his troubled past showed their hauntings in his long oceanic stare. He was a man that had weathered more than most, never one to compare, but he had walked back from the brink of deepest ring of hell more than once.

If he wasn't working then he was stuck alone brooding, he hadn't gripped a phone with a number to dial in such a long time. If ever. Despite having people that he could call.

Thankfully this heroic act wasn't done alone and he hadn't found himself in yet another waiting room of another hospital with bad news on the horizon. Since Ashlee's passing he avoided these places. They reminded him far too much of all the visits they'd had to make when it came to the harrowing nature of her addiction.

In fact, there was a big chance that Jesse would find himself a bottle after this visit and break nearly three years of sobriety because this cracked the foundation that he built.

Memory was often a horrific thing, sending him images of what his late wife looked like sick and helpless in her hospital bed. The Boston native rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes and did his best to push everything from mind.

"I think I just worked all year." Which, wasn't a stretch, and was likely how the year ahead looked. "What do you even do?" Brow creased as his gaze met that of the man who visited him often late at night. It was a subject they always seemed to avoid.

Perhaps it was the instincts and sense he had in regards to Khalil.

It was a wonder they hadn't run into each other more often on the streets both being downtown residents and preferable to walking. Jesse supposed he spent far too much time either in the dark places of his apartment or at work, not much else in between. "Most days it just seems useless. I'm happy to have a vehicle when needed though." Like that quick trip he'd taken out to Bighorn Hills.

"Coffee's not hard," a smirk sounded more in his tone than displayed on his expression. "But do yourself a favor and steer clear of me and my ways. This," he gestured to himself, "is not the example. It's the opposite, actually."

If only Khalil had known how he'd lost his wings and how far he'd fallen.

At the other man's words once he'd finally taken a seat, the disgraced former policeman glanced up at him. "They're gonna be ok," he reassured and wasn't quite sure where that confidence had come from. Normally he lied to himself and spared others, usually preferring to say nothing if he couldn't be honest.

The truth was that he didn't know either way.

After a swallow and a steady observation of the man across from him, Jesse ventured out, "what's going on?" / @khalilhassan

The nervous flutters and skin crawling anticipation was selfishly motivated. Strangers or not, his barely pieced together composure couldn't withstand another loss. At least there was no way he could blame himself for this one, though if he were alone with his own thoughts for too, he was certain it wouldn't be difficult to do. Had they helped in time? Had they dialed the three digit emergency number quickly enough?

His thoughts strayed to a particular brunette, her need for an escape as much as his own. Call me, she'd told him. Teeth sank into his bottom lip as he turned over the offer she'd made — talk or bend her over one surface or another.

Buzzing from the receptionist's area pulled from the tempting thoughts. The agent's focus shifted to the man he'd come to find comfort in. It was unspoken, but even in the midst of his own self-crumbling doubt, he stared down at a man who seemed to understand.

A breath of amused air was forced out of his lungs. There was a time, too many years ago to count, that he'd preferred the night life. Whether it was a karaoke bar or special late night food joint in the heart of New York City, he was there. Even in Providence, it wasn't unusual that he escaped the confines of his apartment for a late night walk, one that often led him to the midnight club.

"Last year was a busy year. I guess it's finally catching up to me." The forged smile he wore came with a dose of guilt. If only he could share the truth behind his recent love for seclusion, perhaps a weight could be lifted. In doing so, it would ruin him.

Living Downtown made walking easy. His own car had barely left the garage in the more recent months. What was the point in driving when parking was a battle within itself? "That's good for you. Besides, it's sometimes faster too. Don't have to worry about fighting for a spot or you know, traffic." Granted, the latter wasn't all that bad most days, but any unnecessary delay was unfavorable.

There was a genuine tug at the corner of his mouth and a flicker of amusement sparked in his dark orbs. "That's just the first step. Next step is being able to make a cup of coffee like you," he teased quietly, exhaustion and defeat weaved into his tone.

Jesse's answer, or the lack thereof, was answer enough. He nodded as if he had understood what had been said without the words ever ghosting off the other's lips. "I think I get it." He carried enough guilt that he wasn't sure he'd ever be okay again, but how did one put that into words?

Against his pattering heart's wishes, Khalil found solace (or attempted to) in an empty chair across from the other. He lowered his elbows onto his knees, back arched as his gaze swept over the floor and back to Jesse. "I need these people to be okay."

Selfish confession, but he swallowed down the breath that had gotten lodged in his throat, and owned it.

@jesseelmassalamy

#05 › khalil hassan. #car accident tw #addiction tw #alcoholism tw

[jesseelmassalamy]

A lazy half shrug decorated the barista's shoulders. "I've never been a big talker either, never felt the need to fill every silence." Even in his younger days, before everything as he had known it had fallen apart, when he was supposed to schmooze and charm the elite of Boston and beyond Jesse was more of a listener and observer.

"Don't feel like you need to do that either. As crazy as it is up here sometimes," the once policeman directed an index at his head, "I'm strangely okay with my own thoughts."

Perhaps it was because he knew what was beyond the bottom of an empty bottle. He'd crawled and clawed his way out of hell one too many times, and now, because of it, nothing much fazed the man.

The question was a good one, and Jesse smiled a little at it as the words hung between them and sipped at the hot coffee as Atlas moved closer. It didn't burn the way it used to anymore, he'd grown accustomed to the sometimes scorching temperatures and maybe even welcomed them a little.

"I finally learned that it was only making me sicker. That I couldn't drink it all away and drown out all the bad and horrible things," he confessed, then tacked on, "I learned that you drink when you want to remember, not when you want to forget. And I'm trying like hell to forget."

What the Boston native had failed to accomplish was his own Leaving Las Vegas moment. He'd tried in a few places in Europe to drink himself into oblivion, only to blackout and believe the abyss had finally taken him to wake up and keep one surviving. The lows he had experienced were depths most people wouldn't have been able to walk away from.

More than once he'd wondered why he had.

For a long moment, Jesse looked into the depths of the other man's gaze, "it's pretty simple." What wasn't, he was unable to extract the pain and torment others went through. Like Atlas here, he had to do it himself.

Given that he wasn't privy to the Williams family drama and what was going on with Atlas specifically when he'd talked about his father, he couldn't offer up much. "You know, I grew up with my father... around," if someone with a heavy workload could be considered that, "and I turned out vastly different from him. You've gotta make the good choices for you and stop looking at the way other people are getting by. It's not living if you're living in what ifs."

From what Jesse could gather, Atlas was making all the right moves right now, all he could hope was that the other man didn't expect that things wouldn't be incredibly challenging. Thing were going to get worse and there were going to be some major breakdowns while he detoxed from a life of snagging a bottle anytime he was inconvenienced.

"Do you think you're ready to clear out your stash and temptations?" The pride on the man's face was good to see and the barista wasn't looking to push things too fast, but he needed Atlas to take the initiative. Jesse would be there, he'd pour out every bottle if needed or asked. The knowledge that there was a liquor cabinet nearby came by way of a recovering alcoholic.

The mention of the missing woman clearly ignited a fire within the construction worker. It was easy to see how much the sister had effected him, and while accusations were far fetched in Jesse's opinion he still wondered beyond the information he was given. "Is this the woman's who's missing flyers are posted all over town? We have a couple posted at The Midnight Club." There was skepticism in the darker hues of the other man on the other side of the kitchen island, his gaze didn't falter at all.

As a former policeman, some part of his interested was piqued.

"I'd just take it easy on the sister," he had one of his own, "imagine having to put up missing posters of someone you love." It was one of the most gutting feelings he could imagine and if it was his own sister he'd tear apart the earth.

A faint smile ghosted the barista's lips and he nodded at hearing mom and baby were doing just fine. As Atlas went on about confronting his mother and clearly was disappointed by the results, his brow creased. "Sorry about your family struggles. It's amazing how much love hurts us." That's actually what love was— pain and hurt. While the highs were great, they were always short-lived. "It's amazing how the people that are supposed to love us the most are the ones that hurt us the most."

Still, Jesse didn't talk to his entire family. Somewhere in the range of six to eight months after Ashlee's passing he up and left. The return he made a couple of years later only raised questions he could deal with nor answer, so he fled once again.

"You know who you are, or you're on the journey to figuring that out. Only you are going to be able to open yourself up to fulfillment, and I now its still very raw but you're gonna have to let this go. Stop giving people all the power over you."

Easier said than done, Jesse knew that, but he was hoping that it was sticking that Atlas would have to consciously make these decisions and work at them if he every wanted to get better.

"You don't have to apologize to me, it's okay." His head shook side to side a little, "it doesn't matter what happened. All I'm saying is you're not alone." / @atlaswilliams

If he could ever offer advice well worth it, he wanted someone like the Boston native to be on the other side of it, even if it were nothing more than a coffee suggestion. A nod and lazy smile was offered towards the other as the warmth of the cup rested against his palm. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled his head and too many memories to count danced around in his clouded mind.

Apologizing had never been difficult for him. Swallowing down his pride and owning every shortcoming hadn't been difficult either. It was the labels placed atop his head and the expectations that he'd always struggled with. What was the point in trying to prove someone wrong when they already had their mind made up?

With his coffee cup tipped back, he welcomed the comfort of the other's reassurance and the bitter brew as it left a trail of heat before pooling in his stomach. "I'm not very good at uh," he paused, lifting a hand to dab at the droplet of coffee that had been left at the corner of his mouth, "not very good at talking sometimes."

A breathy laugh rolled off his tongue. It was ironic, wasn't it? The man who'd never met a stranger in his life having issues with communicating? Too many times his own mother had shut him down, causing him to believe that choking down his feelings was easier than attempting to speak them.

Old habits died hard, even in adulthood.

Who would have guessed that guessed that three words could have held so much importance? He studied the oceanic hues staring back at him, both inspired and dosed with empathy in what he saw. "How do you do it? When it all gets tough and you want to go for the bottle... what keeps you from doing it?"

Another sip of his coffee, but his gaze sets over the mug and stays on Jesse. It was perhaps the most important question he'd ever asked anyone and the anticipation of the reply had him taking a couple of steps closer, the kitchen island between them.

He didn't know his real father well enough to know how they were or weren't alike. He knew that unlike his mother's light gaze and his father's bright greens, his eyes were those of another broken man. "I don't ever want to be like him."

Nothing would ever change that, even if Henry showed up with his own sobriety chip in hand and a loving smile on his face. The damage had been done, but a part of him would never be able to choke down every ounce of his curiosity.

A sense of pride, however faint, washed over him. A few days was good for a man who had gotten used to swiping a bottle by the neck when things got tough. "That's why I texted tonight. I got close, but I didn't do it." It was incredible how just a few feet away, tucked in a cabinet, was their kryptonite and yet, neither made a step in that direction. Not that he assumed the barista knew of it's existence, but one wrong cabinet door and he'd stumble upon it anyway.

Pride shifted to panic and panic faded to frustration. "No. She stole some of my shit and stopped answering my texts. I didn't even know she was missing." He was too ashamed to admit that he'd thought the worst of Mariana and the woman he now knew as her sister. Even there in the midst of his kitchen, he still wondered if there was a larger game at play.

"Ken and the baby are fine. You'd think by time number three, I'd know what I'm doing, but I don't." He glanced down at his mug, fingers dancing against the half peeled image of Coral Cove. "I confronted my mom about the whole real dad thing and she didn't deny it. Didn't admit to it, but she didn't deny it and she hasn't said a word to me since." Granted, he hadn't wanted her to, but to know that she preferred silence and avoidance over the truth... it was telling.

All too often, he did believe in such. When asked how things were, he rarely took the opportunity to complain. It could be worse, but at times, it didn't make things any easier to choke down. "I know," he nodded, allowing the other's wisdom to sink into his bones the way the warmth of the coffee was.

Brows furrowed, forehead wrinkled, and a sense of worried confusion washed over his features as he lifted his head to look back at the other. "I'm sorry." It was his turn to apologize, to shoulder the burden of whatever rested on the other's shoulders. "I don't know what happened, but I'm sorry."

@jesseelmassalamy

#04 › atlas williams. #missing persons tw #alcoholism tw #death tw

[jesseelmassalamy]

Somehow, despite being in a record shop in a midwestern city in America, he felt so incredibly distant from everything around him. Like the universe was pulling him back through time and space, the speed at which everything moved picking up gradually until he was dropped into a vast nothingness.

One blink, she was still there. Two blinks, eyes bleary now as the inky black crawled up his long limbs, Phoebe was still there.

Snap out of it, he told himself internally. She doesn't know, no one knows. It was like they were underwater and her comments were muffled but a strained laugh forced out of him. Yeah, there was no way she could know anything just by that little slip. She'll likely forget about it.

Nothing to worry about.

What Phoebe had said though had meant to be funny and he likely looked like a wild animal trying to understand it's new surroundings, but something akin to a smile hung on his lips. The barista scratched at his neck and nodded, voice rasped, "did she go out with him because he walked you home?"

What had been meant to be funny, a jest, just wasn't so he released a sigh and felt grateful when his moment of downfall began to pass.

What would happen if she looked him up?

"So, technically, you being late saved lives," the Boston native pointed out, trying too hard to hang onto that portion of the conversation because it had been light and nice. "Sounds more like your boss should've given you a raise and people thank you for your service."

As she explained, Jesse actually found it to be a nice thing that Phoebe was doing. It wasn't often that someone went out of their way to educate themselves on something that you found important or meant a lot to you. "I'm sure he'll like that. It's a nice surprise, so..." Thick, broad shoulders shrugged.

"Isn't all music noise?" Only being obtuse in humor, his small smirk indicated his nature that of just attempting to get a rise out of her. "But no, I think I know what you're meaning and it's not that. It's a mashup with Depeche Mode and Disturbed. Much better than that Childish Gambino and Adele mashup everyone went crazy about years ago." Before Childish Gambino became big for a moment.

"Aside from looking up music your friend is into— what's on your playlists lately?" Genuine curiosity displayed, he only remembered her talking about Taylor Swift in the past.

It was clear from the drop of mood music that Phoebe had known exactly what he meant by it, and her take on it had him nodding in agreement. In her own words, she'd taken the thoughts right from his head, and even in something so small it was nice to be understood. "Romanticizing it," he tasted the idea and churned it over a few times, "I like that. Would you say nostalgia is a romanticist's view?" If she asked him, the barista would say yes. "Listening to sad music or watching sad movies when we're sad actually help us to feel better. It's psychology." A little smile was flashed her way, the few minutes before were fading away fast and hopefully completely forgotten soon enough.

Though, he could easily imagine Phoebe putting on happy music and dancing about. For him, he liked to emote.

Quickly, he dropped the mood once more, and went on with some self-abuse in his head about needing to work on keeping his mask in place. He was just barely beginning to start letting people in, to open up and get on the path of healing, but the trail was treacherous.

"Sorry, nah... it's okay, I didn't mean..." It had been meant as an explanation, not said to make her feel any sort of pity for him. "It's alright," his ocean eyes landed on the petite woman, "it's been years. I need to... start figuring out how to... move on."

Any recommendations?

Nah, that wasn't the way and he wasn't wanting to even talk about what had happened so this felt like another dead end that he'd traversed them to.

"Anyway, uhh, how've you been. Seems like it's been a while since I've seen you around." / @phoebeyates

Whilst it was evident that Jesse clearly said something he wasn’t meant to say, Phoebe was unsure how to navigate it. It seemed rude to ignore the tidbit of information fed to her, even if it was something he didn’t want to address. Also, she didn’t really have an opinion on his former career. Sure, she saw the good and bad in the profession, but every job had thay. And it wasn’t like she was with her more opinionated friends who’d help sway her own views. “My mom dated a cop once.” Was all she could supply, her only experience with law enforcement. “He, uh, escorted me home, and she went out with him for a few weeks.” 

Even though the bite of humor was gone from the barista joke, Phoebe decided just to go along with it, to hopefully disapparate the sudden awkward atmosphere. “I was always late, so I think all the diabetics headed over early before I poisoned them.” She jested, but there was no reviving that section of the conversation, it seemed.

“No, not really. We got into this debate, Eli and I, and I ended up going through his Spotify to see what he liked and noticed the only song of theirs I recognized. He doesn’t know I’m doing it, just thought to surprise him.” Truthfully the conversation, or rather, argument wasn’t as straight-forward as Phoebe made it seem. A lot of yelling over each other and a few age comments thrown in for good measure. But what Jesse didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. She enjoyed music, sure, but Phoebe was also a creature of comfort, clinging onto the bands and artists that helped her get through high school, not caring if she seemed close-minded or basic for her tastes. However, she did perk up at his offer of a recommendation. “Yeah? Sure! I’d like that. It’s not like…just noise though, is it?” That was probably the only genre, if that even counted, Phoebe struggled to get herself into. A lot of loud instruments and vocals no one could understand. 

Mood music was probably a better way to put it. It also reminded her of how, that week before Christmas, she sat and listened to Evermore on repeat. Which she hadn’t done this time round, even if the titular album song had snuck into her weekly repeat again as of late. “It’s funny, how when we’re sad we want to listen to stuff that’d make us feel worse, right? It’s like…romanticizing it in a way? That’s what I read once. You’re supposed to like, put on some happy music and dance around or something.” Not that she tried it for herself, but it seemed like something that could work.

Whilst she didn’t necessarily regret saying hi to him now, Phoebe felt like there had been a shift. Maybe it was her, just plaguing everyone with her bad mood because work was uncharacteristically stressful and someone she considered her best friend was currently somewhere, if he hadn’t left town, hating her. But then Jesse offered another piece of himself, and Phoebe blinked in surprise.

“Oh.” She answered elegantly. At least, it put things into perspective, even though it was recommended to not compare your pain with others. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Jesse.” Phoebe racked her brain to try and figure out if he ever talked about his wife beforehand, if it was something she was supposed to know, a nugget of information that got lost in the chaos of her brain. “I…if there’s anything I can, let me know.” She doubted it. Being lucky enough to not have had to experience grief meant she was severely underqualified to help in any possible way. 

@jesseelmassalamy

#05 › phoebe yates. #death tw #sorry i can't seem to shut up #and keep making this so long

[jesseelmassalamy]

With most Jesse was a mystery. It was something he was attempting to change, a will to connect and open up with others was peeking through an eerie and smokey forest in the aftermath of a wild fire. He was the young fawn stumbling about after having just lost everything.

The woman who's company he enjoyed far too much had something to do with this newfound spark of life that he'd felt. It was something to do with Zuri's presence and spirit. Case en pointe as the barista sat there with a bit of a smile as she spoke what he felt.

"I couldn't have said it better myself. I haven't done one of those tv show tours," which maybe said much for his state when he had been in Los Angeles, "but I remember when I visited San Francisco and I was able to notice and pickup on places mentioned in these books I'd read. It was pretty cool."

The smile on his lips broadened, not only at the memory and suggestion, but mostly in the way the beautiful woman leaned forward.

Not only had he wanted to see her again, their history and then run-in close to Christmas encouragement, but Jesse had a feeling she was the perfect person for this idea.

There was always this spark of creativity and imagination in her pretty eyes.

"Hmm," he sipped his water as he used it for a prolonged moment to think on her question. "There's so many—" And he knew that was to predictable of an answer. "This may be stupid," Jesse chuckled a little and looked down for a moment before his blues reached hers once again, "it goes back to my childhood. That first real escape... The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. It opened me up to life beyond me, the walls of my home, and my life."

There were plenty more that inspired travel and experience, but that book had been something he, and most kids likely, wished they could have experienced. To find a secret passage into another world? Undeniable.

"What about you? Same question." / @zurihendrix

Zuri's eyes lit up with genuine interest as she listened to him, her own soft smile mirroring his. The idea of embarking on a literary journey, exploring the settings of beloved novels, sparked a flicker of excitement within her. Jesse had always been a bit of an anomaly to her, and that mostly due to her fear of crossing boundaries and getting too far deep into his business. It felt nice to get into his head a bit.

"Closest thing I've done is one of those tv show tours where you visit associated restaurants and cultural spots but I've always dreamed of going on a book tour," she admitted, her voice tinged with enthusiasm. "There's something magical about stepping into the world of your favorite stories, seeing the places that inspired them come to life. It's like experiencing a piece of the author's imagination firsthand."

She leaned forward slightly, her curiosity piqued. "I'd love to do that sometime," Zuri replied, her tone warm and inviting. "Exploring new places and diving into captivating narratives sounds like the perfect adventure."

Zuri couldn't help but admire his initiative in breaking cycles and reaching out, recognizing the importance of connection and shared experiences. "If you could pick a book to experience, which would you choose and why?"

#02 › zuri hendrix.

[jesseelmassalamy]

— characters: jesse & aysel — setting: downtown, late afternoon — tagging: @ayselkarademir

Things had felt like a blur since the holidays, and the barista wasn't quite sure if that was a good or bad thing. Perhaps it was neither and his usual guilt complex was causing him to overthink rather than follow the course of what had been happening.

There'd not only been a gift exchange, he and Aysel had also shared a New Year's kiss and hooked up. Then when the incredibly dynamic woman had left the country on a vacation she'd spoiled herself with, Jesse had been surprised with the amount of contact between the two of them. He'd half expected the leggy brunette would galavant around famed cities like Paris and Rome and think little of him as she enjoyed herself.

It would've been understood and not something the Boston native would've held against the woman that seemingly had him in a chokehold.

Was she someone worth changing for? Giving up the past and putting it behind him? Jesse was beginning to think so, even if he was sure he didn't deserve it or her.

Now, returned to the mountainous region of the midwest in the US, Jesse found himself in her company as they were going to stop at some shops and head to an evening dinner. All while she regaled him with her experiences at the ballet and opera— tickets he'd dropped for her to enjoy the splendor of.

"If you were to go back," to Europe that was, "where would you go this time?" The question was casual and he found he really enjoyed talking with her, even if there was still they had so much to open up to one another. Even though he'd been stunned by it, the daily communication and the direction their FaceTime connections had gone— it was hard to let go of now that he'd had a taste of it.

"Have you ever been to the south of Spain? Awfully romantic there," he quipped, ocean eyes sparkling as they peered down at the woman on his side. "I can picture you as a Flamenco dream, and Andalusian mystery..."

#05 › aysel karademir.

[jesseelmassalamy]

Somehow, despite the heavy feelings in the room, Jesse managed to chuckle as he passed over the mug of coffee he'd prepared for Atlas. The good thing about being a barista was that he'd come to know how most everyone took the caffeinated drink. "Don't go to Lucky Joe's, noted." With a nod of his head, the Boston native urged the man to have a drink.

There was a lot of trouble going on behind the eyes of the man he'd come to know through meetings where neither of them spoke or shared.

Ocean eyes observed the struggle and torment ravage someone he'd witnessed carry the burdens of life fairly well. Life got everyone, snatched happiness here and there, no one made it out alive or unscathed. What Jesse was confident about was that if he'd survived continuous new levels of rock bottom, then so could this man.

"Don't apologize to me," he rasped, a look of understanding clear in his expression. It was society that needed to apologize for putting these kinds of stigmas out there, that had made it so shameful for people to not be perfect. That told people that they were wrong because life had beaten them up and broken them, and given them no room to find solace.

When Atlas did admit the truth out loud he gave him a moment to let it settle, to find relief in it being out there. It was no longer his burden alone to carry, because Jesse would be there every step of the way.

"I'm an alcoholic," the barista admitted, looking the other man in the eyes to prove he wasn't alone, "close to three years sober now. I struggle with it a lot, it's still the first thought of what I want to run to when the world wants too much."

Life felt cold and out of touch since Ashlee and his part in her demise, he still felt undeserving of continuing on when she had to have been buried. When Atlas shared some of the weight on his shoulders, it felt good— like he had something of a responsibility now.

"No one's perfect. People lose their way, change course, experience something that completely obscure who they once were. Whatever happened, you're still not your old man." Just like Jesse would never be anything like the amazing leader his own father was; a judge sitting high in a Massachusetts court system.

"Good," he answered to the confession of when Atlas had last had a drink, especially when he heard some of what had been compelling the man to chase the bottle. "Sorry, that's a lot for anyone, friend."

The former cop in him had alerted to one thing the other had said, and after a sip of the bitter and hot drink he leaned forward to rest his hands on the counter and leveled a strong gaze at the construction worker. "Did you do anything to that woman's sister?" Mostly, Jesse was fishing for more on why that would stress him out so much. There was no belief that this person he'd come to know would hurt anyone in some extreme way. "What's going on with your family? Is the pregnancy okay?" Maybe there was something he could do.

"This won't feel helpful in hearing it at first, it takes a while to sink in..." There was a pause for Atlas to brace himself. "It could always be worse." The barista almost hated saying such a thing but it worked, worked for him, when it had been said after he should have died.

"At least you haven't killed someone," his voice once again rasped, that time heavy with emotion for his own veiled confession. / @atlaswilliams

He felt out of place in his own home, a feeling that stemmed from knowing that in an instant, if his mother wanted, it would no longer be his. While he'd turned into all that it currently was, his name wasn't the one neatly written on the deed.

He watched as the barista navigated towards the kitchen and with a heavy feeling sinking into the pit of his stomach, he slowly followed in as if it weren't his home at all, head hung low as if he'd already struck out.

It was Jesse's voice that pulled him from the momentarily lull. "Tell that to Lucky Joe's. Worst coffee I've ever had in my whole goddamn life." The brew was more than just awful, but the bagels were some of the best he'd ever had. Shame even the thought of something as good as a toasted asiago sliced in half made his stomach churn.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee provided a feeling of comfort. So many mornings spent in a kitchen he'd redone from the floor up. His gaze wandered towards the nook he'd built, a smile cracking at every memory forged there. From messy scrambled eggs, to decorating cookies, it had long served it's purpose.

Do you have a problem? Five words. One question. Teeth raked harshly over his bottom lip and the faint throbbing at his temples deepened. If he uttered the three letter response aloud, there was no turning back. If he chose Maggie’s favorite word, it would knock him back from the large step he’d already taken.

Tears pricked at his dark hues and a thickness coated his throat. His mouth opened, a response daring to escape, but an inaudible response tumbled off his tongue.

“I’m sorry.” The construction worker forced air into his lungs, held, and exhaled as smoothly as his tight chest allowed. Who would have guessed that the breathing exercises he’d learned in order to teach his children how to manage tantrums would have worked just as well for his own imbalance of emotions.

In, out. Repeat. “I think so,” he trailed off, nodding before the confidence to fully lean into his confession sank into his bones. “Yes.” It was a problem and up until that very moment, he'd choked down the truth in fear of what would happen next.

When the ground didn't open up and swallow him whole, he released yet another breath and nodded to acknowledge the other's kind and reassuring words. "I don't know much about him. Just that he was a good dad and one day... he just lost it." He attempted to recall what Molly had told him about the man and as of that very moment, her warning about attempting to reach out had held true.

Don't do it, she'd told him and like the glutton for punishment he was, he'd do so anyway.

"It's been a few days." He'd tossed back half a bottle of whiskey in celebration of the new year, but it hadn't taken long for the happiness to evade him. Ever since, he'd picked up the occasional glass to ease the edge.

"There's this chick who thinks I did something to her sister," he added, a bit of life bleeding into his tone. She'd gone as far as showing up to his place, angry and as accusatory as one could be. "And there's the pregnancy and uh, some family shit going on with me. Let's just say I've got more than enough reasons to empty that cabinet," he trailed off, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as gaze shifted to the liquor stash in question. "But I haven't."

@jesseelmassalamy

#04 › atlas williams. #alcoholism recovery tw #alcoholism tw #missing persons tw

[jesseelmassalamy]

"You know— you sign up thinking the job can't be that hard, it's just... making coffee," he went on, a smirk eased into shape the more he said. "Being a cop may have been—" It was sudden the way the words cut off and his expression fell instantly from amusement to a horror in his blue gaze.

Almost as if someone had called out his name, Jesse looked away and a worried brow displayed his frustration with himself at what he'd just let slip. It was so random, without though, just fell from his mouth like casual conversation. His stance shifted, weight balancing on another foot while he attempted to slow the spiral he was quickly headed down.

The disgraced former policeman cleared his throat and when his attention returned to Phoebe it was clear there was trouble in his gaze, but Jesse cleared his throat and nodded like nothing had just happened. As far as she might be concerned maybe nothing had.

"So, you got fired from being a barista? What happened— you put sugar in a diabetic's drink?" The humor wasn't the same at that point, even he felt it. Still, he let on a smile despite it not reaching his eyes.

Music was much easier to talk about. There was less chance to slip up and divulge something he never wanted another soul on the planet to know. Jesse's past was locked away for a reason.

"It'll sound just fine," he agreed. "I guess I'm just taking into account the progression of recording and what types of music would sound best on which listening platform. Something raw and pre-digital age would be best on vinyl, whereas club and dance music would be best on Spotify or Apple Music. Could also all depend on your sound system, as well." Of course, he was no expert, and the Boston native hoped his response was enough to cover up how shaken he was by his slip up.

"Is there a particular song you've been rec'd?" Precious was likely his favorite by the band, with Personal Jesus, Policy of Truth, and Enjoy the Silence following. Though, Jesse also remembered an incredible mashup of Depeche Mode's Precious and Disturbed's Down with the Sickness, and he wanted to share that brilliance if possible. "Whenever you've had a listen, let me know, I've got something I'd love to send your way."

The observations of the record in his hands coupled with his moods, past and present, would certainly lead Phoebe down the path of thought she'd gone. Was he okay? No. Would he ever be? That would remain to be seen.

"Sure, it's mood music, created during a time when people were working through hard and challenging times." Modern day blues was much of the same, just for whatever reason, didn't have the same appeal to Jesse. "Definitely helps me," he moved the record in his hands, "when I need to soothe and feel my pain." When he needed to emote.

Sometimes people needed to press on a bruise.

This whole exchange had gone from a pleasant run-in to Jesse being sure he was likely going to hunt down a bottle as soon as he left the store. He was unsure if the strain was visible on his face and body language, he'd gotten fairly good at masking it.

"Yeah, everything's fine, my— uhh," the barista wasn't sure he should be doing this, "my late wife's birthday is coming up. So, I'm just feeling a bit more than usual..." / @phoebeyates

If Jesse noticed the subtle shift in Phoebe’s stance, he didn't comment on it, which she was immensely grateful for. It was hard, sometimes, to explain something that you couldn't fully understand yourself. Besides, she didn't want to fully dwell on it, so really, the less questions or comments asked, the better.

"Happens to the best of us," She commented, with a nonchalant shrug. "I was a pretty shitty barista when I was like...sixteen, I think." Too many jobs to remember the order of them from that far back, but Phoebe could admit what her weaknesses were in the world of hospitality. "They literally just got someone to cover my shift so when I showed up, they were just like 'oh we don't need you anymore' and that was that." Of course, partially helped by her disastrous time-keeping skills, which hadn't improved in the last decade or so.

She watched with interest as Jesse's neutral features contorted into that of what she'd consider derision, the same look Elijah awarded her with regularly on their music lessons. Like how she admitted to the older man that she only knew of Depeche Mode due to their most popular song being covered on Glee. And how she preferred it, all to wind him up. But Phoebe's penchant for mischief wasn't as strong today, so she merely shrugged at the barista's opinion. "I just thought it'd be interesting to listen to it the way old people did back in the day. They must sound somewhat okay, considering it would have originally came out on vinyl though, right? Also, just thought it'd be something Eli would appreciate." She was unaware if Jesse would have recognized his name, a habit of just name-dropping like everyone knew everyone.

Phoebe analysed the cover with interest, though a wave of concern for the man in front of her washed over her, despite his bright smile as he discussed its merits. "Sounds...interesting." Because it did, even if it didn't personally resonated with her. "Um, don't people usually listen to blues when they're..." Phoebe trailed off, biting her lip, trying to find a way to ask without seeming too insensitive. "Sad?" She settled for, lamely. "Y'know, you got like...'singing the blues', 'winter blues', 'Monday blues...'," Blue's Clues, her brain unhelpfully supplied. "I mean, like, just...everything okay?"

@jesseelmassalamy

#05 › phoebe yates. #alcoholism tw

[jesseelmassalamy]

Dinners at his best friend's house were pretty usual, a regular occurrence, but it wasn't often he made his way there in the thick of a near blizzard. It wasn't so much that he was hungry, well, Jesse was, but for a different kind of sustenance. Sara nourished him in ways that no one else in the world could, it was a testament to their long history of close friendship.

The woman also knew details about him and his life that no one else did. Opening up to her, sharing parts of himself, were easier because of that.

When she opened the door, the Bostonian offered her a little smile and handed over the flowers he'd picked up for her. Best friend or not, Sara was always generous with her home and making him meals. Some blooms were the least he could do.

"Hey, my girl," the barista said affectionately as he wrapped the petite woman into his embrace. "Just a bit of a blizzard out there, no biggie." Hailing from Boston he was used to adverse weather. "Good to see you too," Jesse returned and meant it.

"You must love prickling your lips," he laughed very lightly, a sound so soft it could've nearly been missed. A large hand rubbed at his stubble that she'd just pressed her lips to. "Hopefully you didn't go to all that effort on my account..." But of course she likely had.

The coat keeping him warm amidst the Colorado winter was shifted off his thick shoulders and soon hung up, then Jesse followed his friend through the house to her kitchen. "Just water or coffee is good for me." Two options she hadn't offered, but that made him smile a little as he watched her.

At the compliment, Jesse brushed a hand down his abdomen and then his oceanic gaze followed. Naturally, he didn't see what she saw, but he always had a clean style and dressed decently. No matter his depression and state of mind.

Something was different about Sara, however, and that had been his real focus since she'd opened the door. It wasn't something he could put his finger on, but there was something she was barely able to contain beneath the surface.

"My sleeping hasn't changed, thank you, though..." The positives for him were because of something else. Whatever self-imposed weight on his shoulders he'd laid there was beginning to lighten.

"What's going on with you?" Gaze narrowed as he peered at his best friend, "have you been keeping a secret from me?" His tone had been teasing, anything else would've made him a hypocrite. / @sarayoon

— SETTING: sara's place ; evening — AVAILABILITY: closed starter for JESSE EL-MASSALAMY | ( @jesseelmassalamy )

Anyone who knew Sara well enough, was positive that she hated keeping secrets from the people she loved, so, keeping her transgressions with Hyun Woo during new years a secret from everyone had been literally eating her alive. From the phone calls she'd made to Quinn to the times she'd seen the look on her parents faces before leaving, it was like she was going to explode. And, just like a ticking time-bomb, she would count it on the person who often tended to defuse it: Jesse El-Massalamy.

She took advantage of the fact that Hanbin was at a friend's place for a birthday slumber party and invited her best friend over for dinner, under the excuse that she hadn't seen him since New Years. Which, of course, it was true, but it was also so she could try and get this thing off her chest and see if he could help her on how to proceed with Hyun Woo moving forward.

Sara smiled as she opened the door and saw the taller man standing there, glistening under the light snow that was falling. "Oh, nooo... It's snowing again?" She stepped aside to let him in and, once he was inside and the door was closed behind him, Sara pulled her soulmate into a tight hug, pulling him down to smooch his cold cheek. "It's so nice to see you." She said, giving Jesse one last squeeze before pulling away to let him take off his coat and get come comfortable.

"I'm making your favorite, you're welcome." Sara said from over her shoulder as she blew her best friend a kiss and moved further into the spacious house and into the kitchen. "What do you feel like drinking? I have Coke Zero, OJ and apple juice." Respectfully, ever since Jesse had moved to Providence Peak, she tended to keep her alcohol away from his immediate sight. Not that she feared he wouldn't control himself, but, if she could help it, then she would.

When Sara finally gave it a good look on his face, she noticed something different, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was. He looked like... there was a hint of a smile on his lips. Or as if that little grey cloud was starting to dissipate from over his head? She didn't know, but it warmed her heart. "You look nice." She complimented him while motioning her index finger around her face. "Well-rested, maybe? Have you been sleeping okay?"

#04 › sara yoon castillo.

[jesseelmassalamy]

Life had its way of throwing curve balls. Especially when you had begun to think things were headed in a positive direction.

For years now Jesse had been punishing himself for his mistakes and his hand in the demise of someone he loved's life. Perhaps these little signs were a message that his debt hadn't been cleared and there were more dues to be collected.

At least that was the direction his thoughts had gone as he sat in an uncomfortable chair in the waiting room of the hospital with a shitty cup of coffee in his hand.

The heel of his palm all but dug into his eye socket as the barista tried to rub the sleep deprivation from his burning gaze. They weren't family or even friends to those in the accident, and Jesse was unsure why they were waiting around. Perhaps to know that their efforts had a positive outcome.

Which, was something he for sure needed, and by the looks of it so did Khalil.

"You, staying in?" The Bostonian's voice rasped as his oceanic gaze reached up to meet that of his frequent late night customer. It surprised him a little to learn that bit of information about the man. An assumption was on him, Jesse had always thought Khalil to be a busy guy. "I mostly walk," no matter the weather, "but I have my vehicle for longer distances."

Finally shifting upright, Jesse leaned back in his chair and stretched his arm with an empty hand across the back of the sea next to his own. "Are you trying to be more like me, or...?" Head cocked to the side, he regarded Khalil a little more. He knew demons when he saw them, so when he looked away a sigh left his body.

They didn't know each other well so there was no way for the other to understand that it was eerily similar to how his days went. Work and his apartment. That was his self-imposed exile. Not much life went on for him outside of that.

Some attempts had been made but his progress wasn't huge over all.

"I'm," Jesse's fingers rubbed at his forehead, "you know," he shrugged and gestured outward. As if that was some kind of answer, the barista left it hanging. Outside of the guilt that held him tighter than his true love, he'd begun to repair things between himself and Aysel, Phoebe, even found himself smiling in the company or Zuri.

"How about you?" / @khalilhassan

If it wasn't one thing on his mind, it was another lung constricting realization that left him fumbling for sanity. He'd braved the cold and lingering inner darkness for a brief chance at reprieve in the form of a friendly face. A smile had spread on his mouth for an entire minute before the universe checked him.

He didn't deserve good things and if he'd needed any proof of such... behold.

Everything after was a blur, but as he stood in the waiting room, too many memories washed over him. It was Jesse's voice that pulled him what darkness had swirled in his mind. They'd worked together and in the end, a life had been potentially saved because of it.

"It's why I try and stay in if I can, or walk." No one wanted to do the latter when snow was coming down freely, covering sidewalks and making even the shortest venture feel more like a lifetime journey.

Pacing was a nasty habit, but the agent couldn't bear the thought of sitting in another second of confinement. Khalil offered on lousy shake of his head, a faint smile pulling on his mouth. Enough sleep? He wasn't even sure he'd get enough sleep in death, let alone while his heart was still beating.

Amusement ghosted off his tongue and his pacing paused long enough for the male to cast a glance down at the other. "It's good to see you too." He ran shaky fingers through his beard, a barely there smile remaining.

Outside of the check-ins with Hana, he'd found solace on his couch as he cashed in favors for another. "I haven't left my apartment much. It's this new thing I'm trying. It almost sounds like you miss your favorite customer," he teased, surprised by the light pitch in his voice.

"I didn't get to ask earlier... how have you been?"

@jesseelmassalamy

#05 › khalil hassan. #car accident tw

[jesseelmassalamy]

As it always went in Selin's company the conversation was bound to be intriguing. Perhaps even informative given that each time they were in each other's company he'd learn just a little bit more about her. Sometimes it was one thing and other times it was many things.

Tonight, especially given the game she'd chose, it was bound to be plentiful. For reasons unbeknownst to himself, Jesse found himself grateful to be the one on the other end of this conversation. She could easily have any man, any person for that matter, captivated in the seat across from herself and he was the fortunate one.

"Hm," bring wrong had surprised him, "really?" Brow creased and his investigative brain took over, rehashing all of the information he'd garnered about the newly antique shop owner. "Which is it then?"

Maybe it was in the wording. Yeah, that had to have been what had thrown him off, because tacos had actually seemed the most obvious answer and should've been ruled out immediately.

"Like the wild deep blue sea," the barista commented, though had meant to be an ask. The fact that her answer was not an easy one and incredibly specific compelled the man to lean forward in his seat. "So you prefer a blue that's greying— that's packed full of raw emotion?" His own oceanic gaze swept her face and landed in the emerald of her own.

"That's ominous. Heavy..." Something he could all too easily relate to as Sey further explained. In some ways he'd always considered he was connected to the ocean. "Have you ever been to the North Sea?" A smile touched his lips as his hand reached for his water, fingers wrapped around the glass wet with condensation. "I think you'd like it."

Just in the way the woman he'd met in a hospital lobby in Boston had spoken about color he'd begun to think they looked at things and saw them in similar ways.

Drawn to the still feral parts of life and living.

"You can understand that, right?" The barista eyed the blush dusted against her cheekbones and wondered what had demurred her there. What had caused her to shrink, even slightly, into herself? "You're their precious thing."

It should've put thought into his head about his own exile from him parents, his family back home on the east coast. How if anyone knew the ugly truth that they would've likely forgiven and protected him from the punishment he'd deserved.

Perhaps that was what he was still wanting. Still searching for.

Punishment.

"You diagnosis shouldn't stand in the way of you getting out into the world where you want to." Of course, Jesse knew it wasn't that simple. "Where's some place you've always dreamed of going?" See, this game was brilliant for all that could stem off three simple statements.

"What languages? Go ahead and rattle them off if you dare..." Challenge laid down, a small smirk lopsided his lips. "If you ever want to practice languages— I speak a few." Jesse was fluent in English and Arabic. Could read and speak Hebrew fairly well. And had always loved the Italian language.

Something in her expression prompted some dots to connect for him. Selin felt bound by too many things, there were strings tied to her and wouldn't allow her to carry away too far from her roots. At least not without someone holding onto them. He looked at her thoughtfully, in consideration before he muttered, "you've gotta cut those strings. Fly away, little bird."

A chuckle rasped up his throat and the barista shook his head a little in amusement. Mostly because he, of course, didn't see himself the way other's might, and that was anything other than simple. "Alright, alright— two truths and a lie..." It was likely she'd have a much easier time than he had.

"I like hearing about you, by the way." A slight shrug, while the statement stood true, it was also a way of buying time.

"I used to compete in piano competitions, I read IT in one sitting, and my favorite burger is from In-N-Out." / @selincakar

Her only response to the question was a small smile and bright eyes, the combination of her amusement  daring him to play along. 

It was silly - whether he guessed right or wrong didn’t mean anything, not truly - but she was curious about his perception of her. Curious about which pieces he thought fit the best. 

Upon discovering the answer to that she released an unbidden laugh. “You’d think, but nope.” She could, in fact, request tacos in a variety of different, albeit useless, tongues. 

“My favorite color is blue. But not just any blue.” No, as with most things, she had an oddly specific preference. “It has to be that melancholy blue the sky turns right before rain hits so hard you think it’ll wash the world away. Or a really angry blue.”

Sey paused to sip from her drink again, as if associating feelings with different shades was a perfectly normal thing to do. “You know—” a tiny divot furrowed between her brows while she thought of how to explain it— “like late at night Mother Nature is working her shit out on the ocean, and for a split second lightning strikes and illuminates the waves."

Which, okay, was a really weird thing to say. But she'd always thought there was something more appealing about the things most people usually shied from. Had always thought the world was most beautiful when it was raw and real, sad and broken, and wholly unapologetic about that fact.

Still, the soft flesh of her lower lip found itself trapped between her teeth while she blinked over at Jesse. A tinge of pink warmed her cheeks.

"As for the tacos, well." The laugh that escaped was much quieter that time. Sheepish, if not a little self-deprecating. "Once we were hit with my diagnosis it's like life just... stopped. My parents were terrified of everything. Never let me do anything." Or go anywhere.

"I promised myself once I had the chance I'd travel as much and as far as I could. Even taught myself how to ask for what might be my favorite food of all time in a few different languages, too, just in case."

English and Turkish were a given, she already spoke those fluently as it was, but Spanish, French, Italian, Greek— She rattled off the list. "Not that I ever ended up using any of it." She got married. Her goal to go everywhere, see everything came to a full stop. "Turns out Boston was a lot of the same."

A cushy life spent trapped in a cage.

She didn't say it, but that truth sat heavy in her gaze. For a moment. Then, popping her chin into the cradle of her hand, and her elbow on the table, she hinted at a grin. "But enough about me. It's your turn now." Two truths and a lie. "I'm dying to see if I can unravel the enigma that is Jesse El-Massalamy."

#02 › selin çakar. #pls don't match jfc

[jesseelmassalamy]

Tension was radiating off of Phoebe in waves. It was easy for ocean eyes to see in the way she held herself, as though she were ready for someone to start screaming and yelling at her. She was bracing herself. The disgraced former policeman had been trained to read body language and on his own Jesse considered that it might have been a bit of a natural thing about him— the way he could read someone. 

One thing he'd learned and known to be the easiest truth was that people buried and hid and masked so many things. He, himself, did so daily. Most of what he presented outward to everyone was a version of himself he deemed okay enough to allow others to see.

With that knowledge it made him wonder what was going on behind those troubled eyes of hers.

"That could be it," he commented coolly, a faint smile ghosted his lips, "probably just spared me the ugly truth and let me down easily."

Coffee wasn't difficult.

Life was. Loss was. Not drinking was. Guilt was.

The humor he was awarded despite either of their dispositions at the moment was something he was grateful for. Not that he necessarily deserved to be let off the hook for unintentional ghosting this time, Jesse really did need someone to hold him accountable, but he knew that wasn't up to her to do.

"Depeche Mode?" Brow lifted, he hadn't expected that response from her. "On vinyl?" A soured look began to take shape on his expression and his head shook slightly in disproval. "Especially with the remasters— that type of music would best be played digitally." And yes, the Bostonian was well aware how the record snobs would react to hearing someone say such a thing.

At her inquiry into his own search and very low count haul, his blue gaze shifted first to the record then Jesse lifted it and turned the cover so that she could see it. "It's a very old blues track. We're talking..." A much bigger smile began to form. "...real blues, the start of it all. It's incredible to listen to."

It was also his moody, broody tunes he vibed and got melancholic with.

"It's called Devil Got My Woman," the barista informed, "by Skip James." The title had felt so real and raw to him that when he'd first heard the music so many years ago it had felt like a spirit had grabbed hold of him.

"If you ever want to listen... just let me know." / @phoebeyates

Perhaps she needed to take time to examine why she was expecting every man she interacted with lately to jump straight to anger just by her presence. It was most likely a response to a bunch of the memories dregged up by the gift her mom sent, still sat unwrapped on the coffee table. A reminder of how her supposed guardian would guilt-trip her about or apologize for all the men Phoebe felt the need to protect her so-called protector from.

However, Jesse told a joke in response to her greeting and she felt her shoulders, tensed up as if in anticipation of a fight, slowly release. Of course, she was stupid to assume he'd be flat-out angry with her, because he'd never gave her any indication he was capable. But then again, Foster never did either. Not that her behaviour on Monday helped at all, pushing back to hurt him for no discernable reason.

She swallowed down the acidic taste of guilt from that, ignoring it because she didn't know how to fix it with the chef. But at least with the barista currently present, it was easier to make some sort of amends with him. "Oh I just thought they finally caught on that you're terrible at making coffee so they gave you the boot." She jested in response with what he hoped was ease, even if her smile felt a bit tighter than usual. Not that she drank coffee - because she had the taste buds of a child - so perhaps she wasn't the best candidate to make fun.

She took another step up the aisle, noting the albums and how it was nothing she had ever heard of before, trying to take stock of some of the names to report back to Elijah out of curiosity, to see if he knew them. "Not exactly. I was looking for a specific album by some band, Depeche Mode?" It turned out English electronic music from the 80's were one of her pop culture blindspots after all. "What about you?" She nodded toward the vinyl in Jesse's grasp, nothing about it familiar to her. Another blindspot.

▬ @jesseelmassalamy

#05 › phoebe yates.

[jesseelmassalamy]

It seemed the barista was on his own when it came to finding the kitchen, and it hadn't been difficult in the humble abode— a place of greater warmth than the apartment he resided in that was as soulless as he was. "Nah, coffee's easy," the Boston native professionally deflected any words strewn together and tossed at him that resembled a compliment.

"I'm glad you did," Jesse stated, his own hands finding the empty pockets of his pants as he stood in the space. An oceanic gaze took in the male he'd originally met in a few meetings— meetings where neither of them spoke and hung on the fringes of the group.

Even though it had been said before, it was still startling to see so much of yourself reflected in another person. All the signs were there and thankfully to Atlas's benefit he wasn't nearly as far gone as Jesse had gotten.

Nah, the now barista had drunk himself to the depths of hell and self-loathing.

Those memories, incredibly spotty and fragmented, of being somewhere out there in various parts of Europe with blood alcohol content at levels that should've killed him. Blue eyes had turned amber, full of the liquor he'd drowned himself in daily— and yet, never had quite achieved that goal.

"That's what's important," Jesse commented just as he turned and made his way toward the kitchen. Because he knew too well the experience of not trying, of being resigned to a specific fate, one that felt it was deserved and earned. When he reached his destination, the disgraced former policeman rummaged around respectfully and with the ease of someone that knew what they were doing.

Eventually a pot of coffee began to brew and Jesse set a couple of mugs near the coffee maker. "Do you have a problem?" Clearly that had been what Atlas was trying to convey, but he wanted the construction worker to say it straight out.

That was the first big hurdle— admitting out loud and with assuredness that you had a problem.

"You can change your path at any point in time. Move in a different direction." When he leaned back against the countertop, his strong arms crossed over his chest. "You're not your old man, you know that right?"

For now it wasn't about big dramatic confessions or actions. There would be no finding his liquor cabinet or hunting for his stashes and then pouring their contents down the sink.

Some people could quit cold turkey. Some people needed baby steps. No matter the pace or speed, he knew it all had to be set by the man that had called him to his house. It had been a huge first step to reach out and ask for help, one that Jesse didn't look on lightly. He knew what it took. He knew how much Atlas was aching and just how sick he would become. The man who could look him eye to eye needed to be resolute.

"When was your last drink?" / @atlaswilliams

He wondered what kind of man it made him that he hadn't kicked the bottle the very moment he'd discovered that a child belonging to him had been roaming the world for nearly four years. Chest ached at the memory of how many bottles he had gone through while trying to come to terms with it. Not once had the male ever stopped to consider that maybe his drinking was a problem. Then again, did anyone ever come to that conclusion on their own?

Not even the news of his second child had done the trick. He'd gone as far as falling to the kitchen floor in a messy heap of emotion and yet, not even that had been the tipping point in his sobriety.

Oddly enough, it was the news of how his own father, his real father, had turned to the bottle for answers and how it had destroyed his stability. He'd paced every inch of his kitchen waiting for a return call from the man that Molly had warned him about. It was one thing to hear cruel words from his mother, but to confirm everything that his sister had told him? That was another.

No part of him wanted to be a terrible father. He'd lacked love from his own and it had stung to hear just how present Henry had been in Molly's life up until he wasn't. She'd said the truth drove a perfect father into a shell of a man. Was he bound to repeat the wicked twist of history? Would he fall to the bottle too?

The comforting hand at his elbow caused a faint smile to pull crookedly on his mouth as he nodded in agreement. He'd downed enough coffee in the past few weeks to fuel a private jet around the world, but one more cup wouldn't hurt. "Something tells me that you'll make a better cup than I can," he lamely joked through a tone laced thick in gratitude.

Atlas lingered in the doorway a few seconds longer before he turned on the heel of his worn boots and slowly made the trek into the area he'd come to find comfort and pain in all the same. "I wasn't sure if you'd be around, but figured I'd try." He shoved his hands into his pockets to avoid the nervous drumming he often did against his thighs.

At the question, he sucked in a deep breath and forced it out seconds later. "I think I've been a hell of a lot better, but I'm trying," he admitted nervously as color filled his cheeks. He found comfort against the doorframe, gaze finally landing on the man he believed could help save him. "I keep telling myself it's not a problem, but I don't want to be like my old man." The one he didn't even know. The one who had left his family behind when the bottle took over.

@jesseelmassalamy

#04 › atlas williams.

[jesseelmassalamy]

— characters: jesse & khalil — setting: providence peak memorial —partner: @khalilhassan

In some ways it felt as though Jesse were coming out of hibernation following the holidays with the way he was running into people or purposefully reaching out to catch up. Given the friendship that was brewing between himself and Khalil, and the fact that he hadn't seen him at The Midnight Club in a while, he'd been planning to reach out and suggest the gym or the hookah lounge.

Instead the universe worked its own magic. Likely not believing in the Boston native's communication abilities either.

They'd spotted one another outside of Cinematic and had only begin chatting when an accident on the road had stolen their attention. It hadn't been lost on Jesse the way Khalil had sprung to action in a strikingly similar fashion as he had.

And now, while they sipped on terrible coffee in the hospital waiting area, ocean eyes casually scrutinized the tall man he'd gotten to know over a counter in the wee hours.

"You think people would be more careful with this weather," the barista commented, only to strike up conversation as they waited on news. Neither seemed to know either party involved, but again, it was interesting how they both seemed duty bound to know if they were alright.

"You know— I was thinking," hand free of coffee had fingers rubbing at his weary eyes, "you'd been getting some sleep for a change. You haven't been by..."

When you got used to regulars it was odd when the routine changed.

"But, I know that's not the case, because you look like shit."

#05 › khalil hassan.