Hello, it is Wednesday and I am back with a new chapter! I didn't know what chapter to upload today. I had a couple of them in mind but they didn't feel ready yet. Usually I like to leave them for a couple of months before picking them up and my chosen options were all recent ones. I think this one I wrote at the beginning of the year. I don't know where the idea came from - though, of course, the title is a spin on the song by The Cure :P In this chapter, we learn a lot more about Jorginho, my Team Rocket member OC. A lot from his past and growing up in the foster care system. All of the tragedies in his life. Then, halfway through, we move to him dealing with the cessation of his romance with James. And how someone unexpected brings back a lot of missing pieces to him. And indeed closes a cycle :) I hope you enjoy!
Just a heads up, the story in general is a little heavy with toxic masculinity and the unwanted message of boys/men withholding their emotions but also contains mentions of death, infidelity and one drug reference too!
A woman continued walking a toddler around the room, her lips pulling into a tighter line like a flimsy washing line the more times that she had to pace. She reached an icy hand and brushed it over his forehead, not taking the time to trace a caring finger down his nose.
He had been crying for far too long. Too old he was to be cradled in the crook of her arm. But still, she continued to hold him while he bawled his eyes out, lids squeezed tightly together, and his mouth shaped like a never-ending o.
The care worker muttered to the child:
"You're being so silly." she shook her head. The little boy took no notice. He, however, did when out of frustration, she drew her elbow closer to her own frame and accidentally nipped a bit of his skin. "They're not going to want to take you home if you keep behaving like this."
The little boy's wailing came to an abrupt halt set in motion by a hiccup. Though he could not open his eyes – they were red raw from howling, and he did not want to learn of this new, strange world - he clamped his mouth tightly shut.
Boys don't cry.
Little Jorginho let the wind hitting his face as the nurse walked him around once last time dry his eyes.
Another woman approached a little boy sitting forlornly by the window, his shoulders shaking and not bothering to look out at the world that winked back at him. She was a different lady – years had passed since then – but her demeanor had followed this new entity.
Her job aged the skin around her eyes and her forehead to boot. She was growing weary. Extraordinarily little patience existed in her.
Like a wild cat stalking its prey, she snuck up on the little boy as he tried to soothe himself. Before he knew it, the shaking of his shoulders was growing only more violent by her claws digging into his skinny frame.
"Jorginho." she hissed. His name fell off her tongue as if it didn't belong there. As if it pained her to say it. Why hadn't the authorities changed it to something more palatable? "Stop this at once. We have foster families arriving at any minute. You can ruin this chance for yourself, but I won't let you ruin it for everybody else."
But it was only the two of them in the room.
Little Jorginho, however, winced and it was not merely because of the nails bedding into his shoulder through his ironed shirt. He knew that she was right. He didn't want to end up like one of the older children of the care home who stayed there year after year while everybody else came and went.
Even less so did he wish to ruin it for people who were not exactly friends, but at least were there.
As the lady removed her talon from his shoulder, little Jorginho pursed his lips together and frantically wiped the wetness away from his young face.
Boys don't cry.
He heard the footsteps disappearing out of the room and inhaling a shaky breath into his lungs, the child composed himself as best as he could. He wouldn't be caught behaving like that again.
Time passed and the little boy with the tear-stained face grew taller and wider even if he continued to feel not so sure of himself. Leaves turned from green to golden on trees and eventually fluttered to the floor over and over again. Little Jorginho somehow did not become one of those children who rotten in the same foster home for years and years.
While it is true that he hopped from placement to placement for a good while first, eventually, he found somewhere that he could settle.
But still, those words followed him.
A man who possessed the appearance of a salty sea dog and had the demeanor of one too leaned closer to a pre-teen boy as they sat next to each other at a dining table. He almost encapsulated Jorginho's whole head in his calloused hand, tilting his features to the light.
He did not wince at what Jorginho was born with, unlike how others who had taken him under their wing had done. His mouth furled at the gash that had been slashed in his forehead and was causing blood to trickle down the nose that was growing stronger and more telling of his roots with every inch he grew taller.
The adoptive father merely sighed, reaching for a cloth before muttering out a few words.
He didn't often beat around the bush.
"You need to try harder to fit in around here, boy." his advised, the shake of his head grounding to a halt and his neck fixing in the one position as the pre-teen boy's blood mixed with tears trickling from his eyes and nose. He did not know what to do. "Boys around here don't behave like you do."
Jorginho hiccupped, snorting blood back into his nostrils and didn't say anything. He figured what these words meant. He didn't have the stomach to face what thoughts and what actions had led to all of this – and the deep-down fear that boys from anywhere didn't feel what he felt, let alone behave.
Instead, he reminded himself of words that he had heard many times before. These ones were somehow easier to digest.
Boys don't cry.
Jorginho, you mustn't cry.
He took another guttural inhale, not caring that he engulfed more blood into his nostrils than oxygen. He focused on his adoptive father allowing him to rest his cheek down on his musty, familiar shoulder as he cleaned more than his wounds.
The man was tough. Was complex. He was always like the shadow of a grandfather clock, a presence that you can't quite figure out but one that you know that you can rely on day in and day out. He had been the only real male figure in Jorginho's life that hadn't gone anywhere.
Until he did.
Jorginho was as tall as a man when he was twelve years old, but he certainly didn't feel like one.
On the day of his adoptive father's funeral, he stayed behind at the new hole in the ground while everybody else – not that there had been many people – shuffled off in their long black coats to share a tipple at the local bar.
They thought that he would have liked that.
But Jorginho felt that he knew him better than that even if their closeness was not uttered with words and very much scratched the surface. He stayed behind a good while longer, crouching next to the dirt that had been piled on to the only man who had stuck around for him and his head in his hands.
The vicar didn't make any sort of physical contact with the growing boy, let alone grab hold of his shoulders in his weary suit jacket and begin shaking him. He barely made a noise as his smart shoes flattened the grass down. But Jorginho knew that he was coming. He always knew when someone like that was approaching, like an ominous wind blowing on a summers day to tell you that your fun was ending.
Jorginho defeatedly wiped his eyes before he heard the inevitable words, turning over his shoulder to at least give the vicar a chance.
He patted his own arm rather than offering comfort to the boy who was not yet even a teenager.
"Come on now. He wouldn't want to see you like this, would he?" he began. Jorginho bit his tongue. All these liars, pretending to care about him and his father. Nobody had a single clue about either of them. "He is at peace now."
This time, Jorginho could not hold back. On legs that secretly felt like the jelly that his adoptive father made for him while he was sick, he stood up next to the grave, dusted himself off and prepared to leave without bothering to conjure up any words.
He, however, uttered the perfect scoff, the meaning behind the sound burning his own throat.
His father might be at peace – along with his other father and mother too for all he knew – but Jorginho didn't think that he would ever be okay again. Why was he destined to lose everything? He was told that everything in the world was temporary but dammit – why did it all seem so fleeting for him and him alone?
Jorginho was glad that his father was at peace. But he was not. He had not been able to say goodbye apart from today.
Not looking back at the vicar, he stomped away. He would have much rather he said these words:
Boys don't cry.
Well, Jorginho was not crying anymore. And this time, he prayed that he would not be caught doing such a thing again.
He felt stuck in a perpetual cycle. Memories of the past did more than just merely haunt him – he relived them again as he found himself back in foster care once more. This time he did not have the naive hope of youth. He was sure that he was going to age out of the system this time.
And what did it matter?
Whatever saviors who came to rescue him and give him a home and a chance would leave eventually, whether it was nature doing its duty or them growing weary of him. He figured that it was best this way. No more relying on unreliable people. He would be patient and he would age and then he would leave.
But sometimes, you see, certain cycles catch up to us again. Especially if they are unresolved.
By the age of sixteen, Jorginho had been settled in the same house for a couple of years after the man that was his grandfather by blood had taken him back in all over again. A man that he could rely on. Another man who kept him at arm's length. But another father figure in his life all the same.
At least Makoa had a reason for doing this. At least a reason prevailed that Jorginho could figure out the more time that he spent in Kalos. Makoa's daughter, Jennifer, was Jorginho's real mother. She had had another baby since then. A great little boy called Samuel.
Jorginho felt that he did not know much about a lot of things. He felt that he did not have a lot of wisdom or life experience that would be helpful to impart on little Samuelito. However, what he did own in his stitched together heart was all the love in the world and he knew that he would give it all to this little child at a moment's notice.
It was tough. The strangest thing ever. And not just because that little boy was really his brother, but they all went around pretending that they were cousins. Jorginho had not known before how it felt to love without the shadow of fear casting its darkness over something wonderful.
It was different with Sammy. He finally felt that he was good at something too.
Jorginho grinned a face of pure joy as little Sammy toddled towards him with great speed, his expression not faltering as the little boy took a tumble, feeling as though the rug had been pulled out from underneath him.
He did not swap his fondness for a gasp even as Sammy wailed from the second that he hit the floor. Jorginho scooped the toddler up, clasping his entire small head with his gangly hand and pressing his cheek against his to comfort him.
If it lingered there any longer or he smiled any more then surely, he would have imparted his dimple right onto his cheek too.
Jorginho did not say any words, merely allowing Sammy to get the tears out there. He would feel better for it. He would feel better for it with his big brother – his cousin – whoever he was – right by his side.
But a shadow suddenly cast across the scene. It was as if the entire sun had been switched off and turned icy blue. Jorginho hesitantly looked up while still holding a sobbing Sammy close to him.
Sammy's father, Peter, shook his head from side to side. He blamed Jorginho and Jorginho alone for teaching his precious boy habits that were less than acceptable.
"You'd better give my boy to me, Jorginho." Peter's tongue twisted around the teenager's name. He felt it brought nothing but murkiness to a perfectly respectable and crystal-clear household. "He needs to learn that boys don't behave in this way."
Jorginho relished in feeling Sammy's wet cheek against his own and did not intend to part with him. But he had no choice. The toddler was snatched from his embrace, causing the little boy to sob furthermore out of shock.
Peter disappeared out of the room with his son. Jorginho was not welcome to follow. But he knew what words that he would surely hear if his ear pressed up against the door of the man of the house's study.
Boys don't cry.
Perversely, Jorginho felt tears pricking his ears at the thought of the sweet little boy being changed in any way. But he swallowed them back. He would lead by example if it was the last thing that he did. Even if Sammy could not see him there and then.
He wasn't going to allow anything to take that boy away from him.
That shadow that had turned the scene to grey on that day kept coming back over and over again as the years continued to pass. It was always going to as long as Peter was around. Even if Jorginho grew up. Even if he made mistakes and owned them and tried to do the right thing. Tried to be respectable.
In Peter's eyes, Jorginho would always be tarnished. He could not believe his luck when he had done something that caused the entire town to see him for what he was.
But, of course, in Peter's mind, Jorginho still didn't see himself for who he was. And that everything was his fault. He was born in mistake and – well – he did not wish harm to come to him, not really. But he was certain that his life would end in the same way that it began.
He, however, managed to not allow glee to write over his sharp features for even a single second. Instead, as he found Jorginho sitting at the kitchen table eating his cereal but with tears spurting out from his eyes and nostrils too, what he mustered up was disappointment.
Disapproval.
Peter helped himself to a seat opposite Jorginho, pulling out a chair with a bark.
Jorginho's spoon clattered with a grating noise as it fell down against the bowl as he tried to use his hand to wipe his tears away instead. But it was too late. They had been seen. Peter's hawk-like gaze rarely missed anything. And Jorginho loathed him for it.
"I don't know why you're wasting your time with tears." Peter's voice belittled. He always liked the sound of his own voice. Even if he acted like his words pained him, always subtle joy existed at making everybody else focus their attention on him. "If you think you're man enough to make these kinds of decisions then you must face the consequences like a man." Peter's eyes glinted like a sword. "And pray that He has forgiveness for your weak little ways."
A sudden scream. But it was not Jorginho's voice out of frustration. His chair yelped against the tiled kitchen floor as the teenaged boy decided that it was best to evade Peter entirely.
He wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Wouldn't give him his mistakes. Not his vulnerability. He certainly wouldn't give him his tears.
Boys don't cry.
They can't cry.
Jorginho, you mustn't cry.
Jorginho skulked back to his room.
He may have hidden away and he may have made a mistake, but he did step up to the plate like a man. He, however, did not become a father. Not then anyway. The girl decided that she did not wish to be a teenaged mother.
And so, in Peter's mind, the greatest sin of all occurred.
It was not merely this event, more like a lot of different little events, but soon after Jorginho decided that his life was not meant to be lived in Kalos and he set his sights on Kanto and headed there to try and make something of his life instead.
Peter would have prayed for him even harder if he had known that he joined Team Rocket! But he did not need to know.
Jorginho had joined it for a job. For some words on his resume. For freedom. But he ended up with something that he had tried to formulate in many different ways throughout his entire life.
All Jorginho ever wanted was a family. People to look after. To make laugh. To make their lives easier. And, if he felt compelled to, to finally let his guards down and allow them to look after him.
He never believed all of that was waiting for him when he first donned the uniform with a big red R splattered on his chest. But he found it. In Christopher. In Domino. Attila. Hun. Even in Butch and Cassidy. Certainly in Jessie, James and Meowth.
He always loved returning home from a mission and to the three of them. Not that he ever voiced this, but there were some days that he found his job excruciatingly tough. He didn't like to complain because it was every bit of what he had signed up to do. But that didn't mean it was easy all of the time.
When a Pokémon poacher or rival team got too violent on him, he would have to let loose and it was there that he too was capable of unimaginable violence. The necessary kind. But it didn't make it any easier.
When his roommate, Oscar, was away on a mission of his own, he loved coming back to the Team Rocket trio. They were everything that was right with the organization, he believed. They were in it for each other. Not for the money. Not that they made a lot going after a certain Pikachu that we all know and love!
But they were in it for each other. And he hoped that maybe one day they could be in it for him too.
Yet another thing that he dared not to say.
A woman with hair the shade of a voluptuous fruit sat opposite a man with tousled hair like a fragrant flower and they played cards together. A Pokémon – a Meowth that walked on hind legs and could talk – stood on a stool by the kitchen counter top and stirred noodles.
This is how they all were before Jorginho interrupted the scene. How they all were before Jorginho flopped between the two card players, his metallic armor fraying off his frame and his helmet still on his head, disguising the weariness of the day.
But his voice could not hide anything, even if his features were concealed.
"I'm just so tired..." he exhaled through the rumble of his modulator from the second that Jessie and James looked at each other before at him, not seeming to mind that he plonked himself onto their playing cards directly, sending them into disarray.
Even Meowth stopped stirring the aromatic noodles, putting a lid on the pot after it began to simmer and he hopped down to check on the armored man.
They knew that he would be okay. He was with them now. And he always seemed to feel better after settling back home.
Jorginho's body language relaxed when Jessie and James wrapped an arm each around him and Meowth sat at his boot. Perhaps he relaxed a little too much. He told himself that he didn't know why. But he began to taste a trickle of salt as it fell down from his eyelid and onto his prominent bottom lip.
Boys don't cry.
Neither of the trio dared utter these words. But out of habit, they echoed inside Jorginho's helmet.
Using his gloved hands, he pulled all three of his friends closer to silence the voice that was not even his own.
Many different emotions were shared in Team Rocket. Belly aching laughter when somebody like Christopher did something a bit stupid and fellow Rocketeers clutched their sides, falling about. Cheek burning embarrassment. If Giovanni reprimanded you then he wanted the whole organization to know that they were all on probation.
Ecstasy. Pure unadulterated ecstasy. Jorginho hadn't experienced anything like it until he felt something melting onto his tongue and he watched his friends floating up and up and up in their bubble before, soon enough, he joined them and they were all high as a kite.
The laughter. The joy. The togetherness. The lust. It was in Team Rocket that Jorginho shed some of the shadows of the past. The fears. He laid with man after man and woman after woman too and found another thing that he was good at! God, did he enjoy that discovery of his!
He was certain that Team Rocket was going to teach him so many different things.
Jorginho, however, did not anticipate the grief. None of them did. It was sandwiched in between such a brilliant time for them all. Jessie and James were finally together and had two beautiful little ones. Butch and Cassidy had been an item for even longer and sweet little Bonnie came in tow.
The shadow of the past was back and worse than ever. Jorginho had only just stopped fearing that everything that he loved was lost eventually. All his hopes and his dreams and his security came crashing down when medics arrived at their side outside of the Team Rocket nightclub.
Jorginho had failed. He had failed harder than he had failed at anything his entire life. And it was the deadliest mistake of all. Not only had Christopher slipped away from him but a part of him had too.
But still, he would not cry. He would not give away that one last piece of himself.
As the crowd dissipated, horrified and shaking their heads and the crowd of Rocketeers remained, their faces in their hands or in the shoulders of a loved one, devastated, Jorginho pulled James to his chest who was in absolute pieces.
Jorginho held his friend tighter than he had ever held him and that was saying something. He kissed the top of his head while he sobbed in his arms at the collective loss and then he rested his cheek against the top of his lavender locks.
He could not envy how effortlessly James cried. He could not allow himself to realize that he wished that he possessed this ease. It seemed to foreign. Not to mention painful.
Jorginho squeezed his eyes tightly shut and he thought these words. But still he did not wish for James to stop. He knew that he was grieving for them both.
He was far stronger than he ever could be.
Boys don't cry.
Jorginho, you can't cry. Not now. Not ever.
It won't change anything.
Tears would not change anything and they did not change anything. But still, things did change. Christopher took more than just a piece of Jorginho with him on the day that he died. Jessie and James stopped caring about Team Rocket.
Jorginho could see why. They had nightmares about their children ending up in the same fate as dear, sweet Christopher. The way that his eldest brother, Bear, had reacted to the news had kept them up for weeks.
Before he knew it, Jorginho had lost the three people that he loved the most. And not just because they quit the organization. But because he had pushed them away. With his confusion. With his bad attitude. With his fear.
In the end, however, it was his pride that severed the ties for good.
On the day that he had failed to properly say goodbye to Jessie, James and Meowth, he stumbled back to his lifeless dormitory room, practically tripping. He bumped into Butch and Cassidy on the way. It was weird that they were around. They lived on the executive floor during those days. And it was weird that Jorginho kept his helmet off.
He might not have been off duty, but he would be damned if he didn't show onlookers that he meant nothing but loyalty to the organization.
On this occasion, however, it was off. And though he looked down at the floor as he stumbled to let himself back in he and Oscar's room, both of his friends could see the tears in his eyes.
It was Butch who reached in for a hug, pulling him close. They had had many a talk about what it meant to them to be a man and yet Jorginho felt like Butch surpassed him in that area. No question. He was way stronger than he was.
Cassidy, of course, found the words to say:
"Oh, don't go wasting your tears on those traitors, Jorginho." Jorginho winced at the way that she said his name. But she was not spitting. It was friendly. All her words were spoken cheerfully enough. He shrugged her touch away from his shoulder plate. "They'll soon come running back when they realize that they're not cut out for the real world."
Jorginho merely exhaled a breath out of his nostrils, too tired and too forlorn to think of anything to say. He brushed away both of their touch – even if he appreciated Butch's efforts – and helped himself into the dorm room.
He shut the door behind him.
As the door fell shut, these words echoed around a helmetless head:
Boys don't cry.
Jorginho, they are right. Your tears must not be wasted on them.
But this was a lie. Even if he tried to be the master of his emotions, he would often wake up to his head tilted on the side on his pillow and a pesky tear sliding down to the swirl of his ear.
The years after that were a blur. The years that followed and the years leading up to the fated reunion all mixed together in Jorginho's mind like a thick, unstirrable kind of soup. He, however, remembers one very specific occasion that made him realize that he would truly never love another again.
Everybody left him. They either died or stopped believing in him or believing in themselves or they simply took and took and took and didn't care what he gave.
Never again. Jorginho would never love again. It just never worked out for him.
Jorginho slammed the door of his family home in Paldea with such ferocity that it made the remnants of it all shake. Not that much was left at all. And not that he allowed himself to care.
His wife had ruined everything. He had put blood sweat and tears into making a life for her and Samuelo and for nothing. It was all for nothing.
Jorginho left the walls shaking behind him and he ignored the screams of Caira out of the window as she begged Jorginho to be reasonable. To come back. To talk it through.
Managing to turn over his shoulder with a snide smile on his broken face and bitter tears in his eyes, Jorginho gave his wife – soon to be ex-wife – a look that said everything.
He was not going to be reasonable. He was never going to come back. Certainly not to talk things through or otherwise. Their interactions would be for Samuelo and Samuelo alone. All he cared about was being a decent father. Anything else would be said from his own solicitor to hers.
Jorginho turned away, not wanting to give his attention to his wife screaming from their bedroom window where she had only just been caught screaming another man's name. He flicked a tear from dripping down his strong nose.
Jorginho admonished himself:
Boys don't cry.
Jorginho, you will not attach yourself to anybody again.
But this was a lie. Jorginho had a heart that extended itself to others. It simply couldn't help itself. Even if he walked away from his wife and his son too, wounds were glued back together by a sweet little creature that he had to transport for Giovanni. It was this healing connection that lead him back to his brother. Lead him back to Sammy.
Then along with Sammy came Justin. Jorginho should have known that his fiery determination and hollowed cheekbones spoke of paths that he had wandered before. His past came back around in the shape of Jessie, James and Meowth.
Before them, Jorginho had willed himself not to cry a hundred times. After having them back in his life again, he willed himself a hundred more.
Jorginho's determination broke down. His promises evaporated into thin air. Not the one not to cry. He somehow managed to keep himself together no matter what emotion threw itself at him. But he became connected to people all over again. And devastatingly so. Deeply so.
He discovered James in a way that he believed that he had been destined to all those years ago. He had always wanted to. Not that he had the nerves to express this.
When their summer romance ended, still, Jorginho did not weep. But that voice crept into his head all over again.
One morning the tears very almost came. It was his first time waking up alone in months. But rather than wallowing in self pity, he heard his elderly neighbor knocking at the door and he knew that he would put his best foot forward. He would seize the day. He would soothe his weary soul by being there for somebody else.
It was what he always did.
He should have known that this sickness of his would eventually lead him back to James. The cycle was not yet complete. What started as merely offering help and companionship to an another man when Lynne needed to go away – ended up being the greatest thing that Jorginho had ever known.
He had loved for the first time in years. And even though he had never uttered those daunting, leap of faith and page turning words, they rung truer than they ever had his whole life.
But the past caught up. As it always did. And before James could leave him, he left James.
And this is where we truly begin our tale. Some tales don't have a definitive beginning. When you are dealing with perpetual cycles of generations, it really never is clear.
But even though we are creeping towards the end, this is a beginning in its own right. Certainly a beginning for Jorginho.
One day he won't outrun the past anymore, you see. One day, the cycle will be over.
A family dinner was taking place. Justin and Sammy had invited Jorginho to sit around the table with them, their two now-adopted older children, Darcy and Zack, and their new baby daughter too. Jorginho so appreciated times like these. He hardly ever felt like an awkward third wheel.
He supposed that Justin and his brother, Sammy, tried to make it easy for him. They hardly put on any romantic displays in front of him and certainly not in front of the children, even if one was scarcely away from newborn stage. They didn't always seem like a couple, even if they very much were.
It would soon be a decade that they had been in love. And their affection was shown by the way that they sat on the same side of the table together, nudged each other playfully, and shared the kind of jokes with one and other that would make strangers frown.
Jorginho always liked being around them both. And it was nice that the three adults felt like old friends. No one person out of place while the other two grew all sappy. That was always an uneasy moment at the best of times, but certainly when you are going through a loss yourself.
Not that they knew.
Well, not that Sammy knew. Justin was a bit clued into it all. Another factor of potential unease.
But that dinner time was pleasant. Jorginho was beginning to think he could get used to that kind of thing as he continued piling potatoes into his mouth before only just realizing that Zack had been tactfully told that his own enthusiasm wasn't the most pleasant view to look at while everybody else was eating.
Putting his knife and fork down for a second or two, Jorginho reached for his napkin to wipe any stray crumbs from his beard. Like a moth to a flame, Zack could tell that he was being looked at. Fondly.
The four year old boy played up to it, even though he received plenty of attention from his two dads.
"Uncle Jorginho?" Zack began, the rest of the table vibrating as his little legs took on a life of their own underneath the wood, buzzing with anticipatory joy as he knew that Jorginho was sure to indulge him. "Can I ask you a question?"
Jorginho forwent pointing out to his nephew that he technically already had asked him a question. He was a bright little thing. But that kind of thing got lost on him sometimes.
Taking a glance at Sammy who was holding baby Layla on his lap in between using the one hand to cut a roast potato in half with his knife, Jorginho couldn't help but look at his brother out of habit before giving his full attention to his nephew.
Jorginho put his cutlery down entirely and napkin too. He granted the boy more than just his initial wish.
"You can ask me anything that you like." he encouraged. He could not feel Justin's eyes momentarily falling on him as he looked at him from across the table. For possessing a skinny frame, he had finished his dinner first and was taking a drink of water from his glass.
With his silent, watchful gaze, he couldn't help but think that Jorginho was brave. He and Sammy and even Darcy too knew what kind of things Zack could come out with!
Justin thought that Jorginho was being a bit of a liar too. But he didn't dare bring that up.
The cutlery rattling on the table as Zack's legs continued to excitedly shake underneath the table, Sammy had to perform extra parenting duties as he minded his son to be careful. For a rare occasion, his big hearted boy didn't take the gentle reminder to heart. He was far too busy honing his big brown eyes onto Jorginho and to the same degree that he was doing back to him.
Zack rested his elbows on the table, cupping his face with his small hands in curiosity. He did not hesitate to blurt out the big question.
"Does James not like you anymore?" he interrogated. His nose scrunch in response to the private things that he observed before he added: "Is that why you don't live with him anymore?"
Justin knew that it had been bold to let Zack say anything that he wished. And although he couldn't help but admire his son for the way that he just came out with this sort of thing, he was still hesitant to allow anybody's feelings get hurt.
The way that he sucked the air through his teeth spoke exactly this. But while Darcy's own round eyes swung between different members at the table, it was Sammy to speak words first.
"Zachariah." Sammy merely said his name. But he did not need to say anything else. Zack's hands fell away from his face and his elbows slipped from the table.
His forehead was about to grow embellished with a crease as he didn't understand why he was sensing that he was about to get a telling off from his father.
Though Jorginho froze in his position for a second or two after the child asked this question, the fierce red of his plaid shirt lending its shade to his neck the more that seconds passed, a different demeanor started to take over him.
He didn't think that Zack was in the wrong. When he was that age, he asked questions like this too.
Jorginho waved a haphazard hand towards Sammy and Justin too – even though Justin hadn't said anything to guide his son.
"It's okay." he reassured the two adults before turning back to his nephew, ignoring the flush that had encouraged a lump to form in his throat and swallowing back both that and the thorny blush, making a joke out of the whole thing. Jorginho nudged the boy on the shoulder before pretending to tweak his nose. "I'd lived with him for long enough, don't you think?" He left Zack's nose alone and picked up his cutlery once more. "Sometimes grown men have to go back home."
Jorginho's beard moved on his face as he curated a smile and held his cutlery in his hands. But he did not reach to dig his fork into that last bit of potato on his plate. When his wrist moved the rest of his hand an inch, he could see that his digits were trembling like leaves.
Nobody can see that, he warned himself.
He was too busy trying to compose himself while acting like he was collected to see Justin moisten his mouth with his drink to finally say something too.
"My dad likes Uncle Jorginho very much, Zack." Justin told his son calmly. He didn't intend to come across as if he was lecturing and he didn't sound that way at all. Sammy's head turned, listening from the second that his partner spoke. "Wherever he chooses to live." Justin added.
He did not look over at Jorginho. He deemed it necessary to check that his cutlery was in closed position on his plate before reaching to absentmindedly stroke his baby daughter on the cheek while she was in the hold of her other dad.
And then that was that. That was the little blip over and done with. Zack wasn't reprimanded for his curiosity that was – deemed by adult standards – unkind and probing. Jorginho did not seem to be brushed the wrong way. Even Darcy didn't pipe up, telling her little brother that he was being nosy and she didn't even step up and try and discipline him herself.
Clearly she had accepted Justin and Sammy as the fathers.
Though Jorginho was sat at the head of the table for that meal time, everything very much began and ended with the two of them. That was clear from the way that they interacted in the next few seconds.
Everything went back to how it had been.
"Can you hold Layla now that you're done, Justin?" Sammy asked. With the presence of company and their children too, he didn't point out that he had eaten most of his meal while balancing a baby on his lap.
Justin jumped immediately as if Sammy had pointed out this truth. Perhaps he knew that he was guilty of it. He didn't hesitate to relieve his partner of the fatherly duties and take over, doting on Layla from the second that she perched on his lap.
It was a marvel to him that she was sitting already. Of course not unassisted. But she was nearly four months old at that point and she was so much less baby than she had been at the beginning of her life. Still very dainty and a right little cherub she was. But she smiled at her fathers now. Smiled at everybody.
And now it made Justin's heart soar.
Jorginho tried to focus on how lovely it was to see how naturally Justin had taken to being a father. How welcome that he felt in that home. How it didn't matter that he wasn't living in the Morgan Household. He had been embraced back into Justin and Sammy's home to help them take care of the three children.
He was only a sweet and innocent child but Zack had unwittingly torn open a wound. And now that Jorginho was watching Justin with his little girl, he was bleeding outwardly.
All he could see was...
No.
He wasn't going to finish that sentence. Much less allow his eyes to prick with tears.
Instead he stood up. This time it was his movements that caused the table to rattle.
"Actually," Jorginho began, and everybody's heads turned towards him. He commanded every single room. Every single gathering. This time, he loathed a fact that he could not deny. How he wished his reddening throat would calm down. "I'm feeling really tired. Do you mind if I go up to bed?" he made a clumsy movement for his plate. "I'll wash up my stuff before I go."
Jorginho's knee jerked. He was trying to leave before he could find out that they really wanted him to stick around for dessert. He didn't know how he would let the children down if they clamored for him to stay.
Thankfully, for once, they were wordless.
"Don't be silly." It was Sammy to immediately reassure his brother, a relaxed smile swiping across his dark features even if he couldn't deny that this was unusually unsociable for him. With his free, childless hands, he gestured for Jorginho to put his plate down. "Go up to bed and get home rest. We can handle everything else."
Jorginho wasn't usually so compliant and so comfortable with leaving the dishes to other people, especially when he was the guest, but he knew that he had to get out of there. He brushed his hand over all the other people gathered around the table, his touch lingering on Justin for a second longer even though it pained him to do so.
But then his eyes squeezed fiercely together and he stumbled off upstairs, his potential bad manners being the last of his worries. Justin's eyes followed him out of the room, but he was distracted by his son speaking all over again before he could attach words to his own feelings and his own thoughts.
It was time for another of Zack's questions!
Darcy was pushing her discarded vegetables around on her plate in the seconds before she heard her brothers voice, anticipating Zack's antics.
His palms were latching back onto his face. But this time he looked more forlorn.
"Does Uncle Jorginho not like me anymore?" he wondered. Everything was so simple in little Zacky's world. Everything was a case of liking and disliking.
Justin's mouth pressed together in quiet fondness as he observed this, Layla still on his lap and the tiny spec of a dimple managing to appear on his cheek. But it was Sammy who outwardly reassured their son, even if Justin would have done so if the other father hadn't stepped in.
With a gesture, Sammy encouraged Zack to come close to him. He had only just handed Layla over to Justin but his arms were soon filled with child all over again, this time with the four year old boy as he held him close, pressing his forehead against his.
"Uncle Jorginho loves you very much, my beautiful boy. We all do." Sammy soothed, pressing his cheek against his son's before he pulled away to look at him in the eyes, touching him on the end of his nose. Oh, how he adored guiding him. "In the morning you might want to tell him that you think James' loss is our gain, though."
And with that, Sammy touched Zack on the nose one more time before nudging him on the bottom, encouraging him back to his own seat to finish off his dinner. Even though he would have liked his boy to linger there forever.
Sammy felt at home when he was guiding and teaching. It was something that he had never felt compelled to do until mistakes of his past had shown him his true purpose. Now he wanted to be living that purpose every minute. But he had to get used to it appearing in diluted forms sometimes.
The people left at the table went back to dinner. Justin still had finished his meal and he didn't reach for seconds, too busy enjoying his daughter babbling to herself on his lap. Darcy didn't really want to eat many more vegetables but she was encouraged to do so by Sammy's firm but gentle care. Zack put up more of a fight!
It was back to reality. It was back to home life. And although Justin had his daughter on his lap – the greatest distraction of all – he couldn't help but discover his mind to be wandering. And eventually, he knew that he had to do something about it otherwise it would just keep niggling at him.
He felt that he had behaved less than his best recently. And he wanted to do better.
His bony kneecaps rattled against the dining room table in the seconds before he properly stood up.
"I'm going to check on Jorginho, actually, yeah?" he clued Sammy into the decision even though he wasn't exactly asking for permission. His mind was made up. With a kiss placed to her chubby cheek, Layla was handed back over to her other dad. "Make sure he has everything he needs for the night."
And with that, Sammy accepted their daughter with an instant smile, his mouth falling open in a mock-friendly gasp as if she was an unexpected gift, kissing her on the opposite cheek to which Justin had smooched before focusing on his partner.
Sammy's mouth pressed together in an understanding line. The two of them spoke everything without saying anything at all. And for half a second Justin wondered if Sammy realized more than he let on.
Sammy leaned forward to press a kiss to Justin's lips in gratitude that he was checking on his brother for him. They may not have been married but Jorginho had become a brother to him too and that showed him that all of his wishes were coming true with the lives that they were making.
Together.
With or without a certificate or a ceremony.
Justin got the wrong idea. Or maybe he was too focused on heading upstairs. With a hand clamping around Sammy's shoulder to steady himself as he got up, he dodged the kiss on the mouth and pressed a fleeting kiss to his partner's cheek.
And then he was off.
Sammy's eyes followed him as he left. He would follow that man anywhere. But for now, he had to enjoy the pieces that he left behind. He resumed being a father while Justin headed upstairs.
As soon as he was away from everybody else, Justin's mouth wobbled above his chin and he soothed it by puckering his lips together and then eventually rubbing them with a single, ring clad finger. He didn't even know if Jorginho would want anybody checking on him.
Least of all him.
But he had to try.
He had seen the upset on his father's... whoever he was to him – his face from the second that Zack blurted his blunt words out. He might have found their previously fleeting relationship strange, but he knew what it was like to love. He knew what it was like to lose.
Justin made his way upstairs and because the hall light was on, he couldn't tell whether Jorginho was in the spare room or the bathroom so, at first, he decided to head into the bathroom. Not exactly to check on the other man because he figured that he would be in the bedroom if he was planning on sleeping. But sometimes he accidentally left the light on in there.
Justin burst into the bathroom with the intention to turn that light off. But then he was left with his heart in his mouth and his eyes being the things that were flickering with what he saw.
Jorginho looked deeply distressed from the second that he knew that he was not alone, quickly moving one of the hands away from the edge of the sink that had been steadying himself and moving to cover his eyes with his fingers, breathlessly panting.
But Justin had seen the throbbing flush of the neck that had pounded its way into Jorginho's cheeks. Had seen the heartache in his eyes. He had seen the tears dripping from his lids.
He stood in the doorway, now a gasping statue, one hand still on the knob and his foot pointed towards the door as if any second he would just leave the other man to it.
But he would never do that.
"O-Oh, Jorginho." he mumbled out, his own chest beginning to rise and fall at the sight in front of him. "I... I'm sorry."
Shaking his head frantically in a desperate attempt to calm down, Jorginho continued to hide his face with the one hand. He began apologizing as well. He felt like he had so many things to be sorry about – especially over the past few months – but now he was just so horrified that he had been caught in such a way.
Especially by James' son.
"I... I'm so sorry." he spluttered, lifting that second hand from the cold edge of the white sink and to hide his face even better. He knew that he could not disguise his tears. Could not hide a single thing from Justin at the best of times. But certainly not this.
However, he wanted to. He was meant to be Sammy's older brother. A big brother to Justin too in many ways. But this? This display was disappointing. This display, in Jorginho's mind, was forbidden.
He didn't care if anybody else chose to cry. Actually, he applauded it. But it just wasn't his thing. It just couldn't be his thing.
He always felt the same way if he ever started. He was always so afraid that he would never stop.
Justin shook his head sadly, his lower lip falling into his mouth as his foot slowly but surely stopped pointing towards the door. He allowed himself into the bathroom with Jorginho, shutting the door behind him while the other man tried to compose himself but he could not.
He could tell that he was still sobbing behind his hands. Could tell that he was coming apart.
He knew what that was like. Justin too didn't often find comfort in sobbing. But when the desire came, boy did it feel like something of a cleansing. A deep purge. Justin could see that Jorginho was doing that there and then. And he couldn't help but be there for him.
He would be there for him. As long as he let him be of course.
Jorginho's face was still blotchy and concealed so he did not see Justin's next move. Not even in the reflection of the mirror that he was standing directly in front of. All Jorginho knew is that before he knew it, he could feel Justin's narrow arms wrapping around him from behind and God – he did not know how arms a fraction the size of his own ones could feel so powerful.
Could feel so supportive. Could feel so welcomed.
Jorginho gasped emotionally from behind his hands from the second that he felt the younger male's touch. And then he was crying all over again when Justin pressed a kiss automatically to the back of his head, whispering words that seemed to just naturally fall from him without a second guess from the words that he muttered to his children when they felt anguish.
He hoped that the last thing Jorginho would feel was the addition of embarrassment.
"You can let it all go, Jorginho." Justin encouraged in a mumble, his lower lip falling back into his mouth all over again before it popped free once more, his eyes fluttering shut as he said these words close behind the other man. "Your tears are safe with me."
All the breath was snatched out of Jorginho's lungs and not merely because the dam had been burst and he did indeed continue to let it all go, did indeed give Justin the gift of his weeping. As Jorginho's eyes squeezed tightly together as he sobbed and grieved and his wet hands finally moved away from his face to hold Justin behind him in return, he got the flashes of memories that he did not know that he possessed.
He was ending a cycle. It was happening. He would be okay. He had loved. And he had lost. But he was still standing.
Jorginho thought of the first two people that had set everything in motion for him. It had all started with him. And it was ending with him. But it was not a loss. For it lead to the gaining of so many things.
A young man with unruly black hair laughed with joy and tears in his eyes as his newborn son wailed in his arms. He had only arrived on the planet moments ago. But he was already the greatest gift of all. And his tears did not pain the young father. He could see that he was breathing.
Javier tickled baby Jorginho on the cheek and pressed a kiss to his wailing mouth before nuzzling his nose against his, completely swamping the little baby with love and his features.
"¡Dios mío! Yes, cry your heart out, my beautiful boy." Javier encouraged while Jennifer looked on at the scene with all of the love in her chest. She did not think her heart could grow any bigger and yet here she was. "Every single one of your emotions are precious to me." he kissed the baby once more. "I will carry every one of them and you with me always. I hope you'll grow to be the same."
And with that, Javier kissed baby Jorginho's nose one more time and then he reached for his thrashing hands out of his blanket and even peeled it back to kiss his pink little feet too.
Jorginho was a miracle to him. A miracle to Jennifer. Sadly, he would never watch him grow. But we must trust that his promise remained true.
Years later and while the loss was still raw, Jennifer watched with one hand over her heart and the other stretched outwards towards little Jorginho as he took his first steps. They were tentative at first, but then he saw the joy in his mother's eyes and he used them as fuel to push forward.
He got a little too enthusiastic! Poor little Jorginho tumbled down onto the floor. Jennifer knew that it was the wrong reaction but she couldn't help but gasp aloud, a hand flying to her mouth only momentarily.
Her next gesture was to scoop Jorginho up while he wailed, pulling him close to her bosom and whispering soothing words to him while he cried from the shock and her falling locks comfortingly tickled his reddening face.
Javier was not around anymore. But both their love for Jorginho had set up a home inside her heart and was delivered to their boy with every gesture she took towards him. Every loving glance. Every patient touch. Every soothing word.
Jennifer held their beautiful baby boy while he cried. And she could not help but fondly laugh.
She remembered much of what her love used to say. And oh how she loved feeling that he was still around, watching over them both.
"Oh Jorgito, my little Jorginho Valentino, you are so precious to me." she held the toddler in her arms, running her hands soothingly through his dark hair and waiting for his eyes to become sunshine again. "Cry your heart out, my little love. Your tears are safe with me."
Decades later, Justin delivered these words back to Jorginho too. They were from him. But they were from Jennifer too. Certainly from Javi, the man that he did not know too much about but felt his presence as well as his loss shaping every thing that he did and every path that he wandered.
Jorginho continued to hold Justin as he cried and allowed himself to be held as he cried and he had never felt better to cry.
Boys do cry.
Jorginho, you have to cry. You have loved. You have loved deeply. And for the moment, this is your way of being with them.
So be with them.
And be with them all Jorginho did.
The End.
There you go! Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed :) This story ended up being longer than I pictured but it felt necessary to portray a lot of moments in Jorginho's life. I say this with fondness but this chapter really does give insight to why Jorginho is a bit messed up :D I say it jokingly as we all are. But this chapter certainly highlights why he doesn't get into a long-lasting romantic relationship until he is nearly 50. Jorginho has experienced great loss. But in spite of that, he is a wonderful character with so much to give. And when he realises that there is power in his vulnerability - embracing it is a gift from his father and his mother who are not in his life in the way that he wishes for two different reasons - he comes home to himself in a whole new way :) Thanks again for reading and I will be back again on Wednesday to update this again so see you then!
Amy signing out :3