He Watches Her
By: The General
TG/N: This summer I managed to procure a job in which I serve ungrateful and indecisive children candy at the local pool. As you might imagine, I have a lot of free time during work, and during that free time, I managed to squeeze this out. It was supposed to be much shorter, but it kind of became longer. This is from Jesse's POV and it takes place during Darkest Hour. Please enjoy.
He watches her.
Not in a disturbing or deranged sort of way. Really, it's more observing than anything. He observes the way she puts that ridiculous facial paint in the morning, though she clearly does not need it, the way her face lights up when a particular song comes on the radio, or even how she plays with her hair while she studies or does homework.
He observes the way her lips softly part while she sleeps, and sometimes his name even escapes from them in the middle of the night. An increasingly sizeable portion of him thinks that sound might just make him the happiest he has ever been in his one hundred fifty years of existence. This same part of him confuses all this observing for intimacy, as if in all the time he simply watches her, he continues to grow closer to her. The other, smaller part of him says he is being wistful and absurd, that he has no chance.
He does not particularly enjoy that part of him, and more often than not, he decidedly ignores it. Yet, like a mosquito, that part continues to buzz and annoy, to taunt, biting when he least expects it. Or, to be more accurate, when he least wants to hear it.
He glances through the window, the one that remains stubbornly stuck shut, and sees that Slater boy get out of his car to greet Susannah. Not much causes him anger, but lately he cannot seem to say that young man's name without growling or grumbling. If he's completely honest with himself, he knows the cause for the excess anger; however, as he mentioned previously, he prefers to neglect that part of his brain rather frequently in situations such as these. Not that situations such as these occur all that frequently. Between the ranch and studying whatever medical texts he could get his hands on, there was rarely an opportunity to pursue courtships, besides ones forced on him in any case.
The sound of girlish laughter redirects his attention outside. Through the glass, he watches as Susannah runs her fingers through her hair before entering Slater's vehicle. The pendejo does not even open the car door for her.
An involuntary pang—somewhere between being punched in the face and nausea—grips his stomach and refuses to relent. Had he been alive he would not have been able to breathe.
Alive. The word echoes loudly in his head, sounding cruel and mocking. In a rare moment of clarity, the situation becomes quite obvious.
He can never have her. There will never be a 'we' or 'them;' he will never be able to court her properly, taking her out for meals or whatever it is young people do in this day in age. And ultimately, he will never be able to tell her he loves her with all his heart because technically, his heart does not exist.
Because, truthfully, he does love Susannah. Has for quite some time now, despite trying to convince himself otherwise. He tried not to fall for her—it was selfish of him, he knew—but at some point he realized he was powerless when it came to changing how he felt. And now he suffers the consequences.
He watches her: watches her buckle her seatbelt, then disappear as the boy backs out of the driveway and continues down the road. He will continue to watch her: watch her grow up, move on, go to college, have a family, live. And, with a sinking feeling, he realizes he will continue to watch her not choose him.