Let me get this straight, do you want me here?

As i struggle through each and every year
and all these demons they keep me up all night
OUTFIT @jesseb

The days were getting longer as spring finally sprung, and although the temperatures were not exactly warm Jesse had found himself outside quite a bit. To be honest, he would rather sit in the courtyard, which he claimed as 'his spot', than sit in his crumbling hell hole of an apartment with the other umpteen million muggleborns he was forced to live with. That, coupled with the fact that he saw nothing but the inside of a mine all day, was enough to drive him nearer and nearer to madness. He missed Hogwarts, he missed his home. 

As he sat in the courtyard, which was nothing more than an overgrown plot of grass which was completely boxed in by the apartment building, trying desperately to drink away his shitty life. In the center of the courtyard were four large concrete slabs, probably meant to be a patio at one point, weeds grew up from between the cracks. Jesse sat there, situated on the would-be patio in a dingy lawn chair overlooking the burning barrel's blaze. The large rusty barrel had been deemed the new fire pit of the apartments and Jesse spent many nights drinking by it's light.

Tonight was no different and he set a goal to finish off the crate of lager he had stolen a little while back. He had pulled the crate up next to himself, and for the longest time he sat in silence watching the fire and thinking. Truly was on his mind, she had been since the day of his accident. Seeing her at Saint Mungo's, and everything that came after, it was a lot to think about. He wondered, somewhat annoyed, if things would ever go back to how they were. Would he ever be able to freely practice magic? Ever get his wand back?

Just the thought of his absent wand was enough to bring his blood to a boil. Of all the things he was pissed off about, given the entire situation, the memory of having his wand revoked was the worst. It was like taking his soul from his body, and telling him he would never get it back. He had felt bad, at the time, for how poorly he had ever treated his wands in the past. Hell, the one they took from him was his third wand since first year. Or was it his fourth? He hadn't really paid much attention to the exact number of times. All he could recount was that it was multiple times, and this last wand would be his last one for all time.

Interrupting his thoughts he could hear the rustling of the tall grass as someone made their way to the courtyard, Jesse turned to see who it was. As he recognized the boy he held his bottle up with a smile, "Cheers mate!" There were many other empty chairs, like his, around the burning barrel. Jesse leaned down, grabbing a bottle for his friend. "Pull up a spot, have a sip with me!"

Each cigarette would light a thousand faces
Each hour that passed seemed like a thousand years
Midnight was turning into empty spaces
The sound of laughter... disappeared
Outfit

Man, what would he give to feel the Californian sun on his face once more. To reclaim that distinctive sun-kissed tan he'd once sported that separated him from the pale British crowd around him, that had almost kept him warm by itself. Jesse craved those lost beaches... the scorching hot sand underneath his feet when he used to go surfing with the boys, and the small diners where he'd taken a girl on his first ever date. It was all... gone. Out of his reach since his Dad had been sent here, to the UK, so they could do a different kind of training with him before he was deployed again. He'd been promised a brand new start and he had believed them. It was just that this wasn't what he had had in mind when he had given up everything he knew.

It was mostly the loneliness that got to him, aside from the never ending cold. The cold seemed to have gotten into his very bones so he couldn't seem to shake it and now it was becoming background. Except from when it plunged below freezing, which was every other night, as that was just a whole new world of pain. But still, he was alone for most of it. While they were technically a community, they weren't close except in living conditions. Other than Finn, there were next to no people who seemed to want to know him... but that was something he had steadily been growing used to. The British just weren't the friendliest of civilisations. They weren't as warm and friendly as the people he had left behind and sometimes they made the fact that he stuck out a bit with his American accent a bit obvious. These days he tended to keep quiet. What was the point in looking for more trouble when you were already up past your neck in it, after all.

Jesse had never really been so acutely aware of loss. Of the word, and the full depth of the meaning it held. Because like all of them in here- or most, as some had brothers and sisters and others in here- he had lost everything he held dear. He had lost his guitar. His parents. The meagre few friends he had made. His belongings. His wand. And he couldn't rightly say which was worse for him. He had always had music there for every step of his life, had never been without it, and now at night without those familiar strings he felt hollow. Without magic he felt even more helpless than before and had lost the ability for simple tasks, such as warming charms and simple cleaning and healing spells. But losing his family? Man, that was worse than the death that was inevitably on its way to greet him. It was bad enough having gone so long at a boarding school without them, and then his Dad deploying... but now? Now they probably thought he was dead. Or they had been obliviated and had no idea that they had even had a son in the first place.

He kicked at the ground in front of him, passing through the front door of the Kolna and straight out the back towards the little 'garden' without pausing. It was no warmer in there than it was out here, and he wasn't in the mood to be crammed in with everyone else just yet. What he wasn't expecting was to be greeted, or to be invited for a drink. But the burning fire in the barrel pulled him forwards and his dark doe-like eyes fixed on the bloke sitting in a distressed looking chair. Ah, the other Jesse. He grinned, ducking his head a bit as he flexed his hands from within his jean pockets, and sauntered over to take the bottle from him and then plonked himself into the chair the other Wizard was sitting in's twin. "Don't have to ask me twice." He commented playfully, pulling his seat closer to the fire and reveling in the heat as it graced his icy features. "Cheers!"

LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT, DO YOU WANT ME HERE?

AS I STRUGGLE THROUGH EACH AND EVERY YEAR
AND ALL THESE DEMONS THEY KEEP ME UP ALL NIGHT

Drinking had become his solace as the months ticked on in this muggleborn hell. In her younger years he had drank often, for fun and at parties. Jesse had always been a bit of a party monger, both in the muggle world and his time at Hogwarts. It wasn't easy to keep that lifestyle within the castle walls, but where there was a will there would always be a way. Now the drinking was something more...necessary. He needed it to dull his senses, calm him down, keep him sane. The nagging in his mind was incessant, constantly harping about plotting an escape. Constantly throwing it in his face that he had signed into this shit show willingly. That was the worst, dealing with that knowledge day after day. He should have ran with the rest of them, should have left Hogwarts when Monica warned him about the Ministry's take over. But he had stayed, and he had signed.

God, if it weren't for the bottle in his hand he could likely still feel the quill shaking in his palm. Jesse took another sip from his bottle, stuffing the feelings down further still. He had been keeping his feelings well hidden, as he always had, and maintained his don't-give-a-fuck vibe. That was his thing, being goofy and carefree. No one really knew the thoughts and feelings that swam around in his guts. No one needed to know. The lager would continue to subdue them, washing them further into hiding. It made it easier to pretend that he was just a simple kid who liked to sit out, shoot the shit and enjoy the fire. In a way he was that simple kid, even still. He found peace by the fire, able to lose himself in it and forget about the room he would soon have to return to when it's warmth wasn't enough to keep the chill out of his bones.

The rooms of the Kolna building were grossly overpopulated, he himself shared a flat with seven others. The conditions were terrible to say the least. The first night there was the loudest, many of the muggleborns were crying. He supposed for most it was a traumatic experience, being ripped from their families and their homes. To Jesse it was just another place to live, it really wasn't much different than the dozens of foster homes he had jumped between. Sure, it was quite a bit dirtier than he was used to, but he could make it work. He always did. Still, he couldn't help but feel bad for the others. Especially the other Jesse.

He had been ripped from his family, a foreigner in a new land, a new student to Hogwarts. That might have been the shittiest thing Jesse could imagine. Could you imagine how unlucky this bloke must be? He almost chuckled at the thought but refrained to keep the appearance of his sanity. He was sane, yes, but laughing at nothing would not have helped to convince anyone of that. Instead he gave a half smile as the boy took the drink and sat along side him by the fire. "How's the janitor work going?" he asked casually, smirking into his bottle. "Please tell me you've swiped some air freshener for this bloody rats nest."

It really was hard, with his surroundings practically devoid of any and all colour, considering that he had always been a colourful person himself. It had been in his clothes, his surfboard, his choice of snacks. And now he had none of that. The clothes he was wearing were only his on a technicality, as he hadn't bought them. He had been given them. In that respect he had to appreciate the others in the Kolna's who enlisted help to scour the charity shops nearby for stuff for them all to wear but at the same time he was wearing someone else's clothes. That didn't sit right with him. It never had. He was overly conscious of where it came into contact with his skin and how it looked. Jesse had never worn double denim in his life... but that was the choice he had been given that morning when the clothing bag had been passed around so their current attire could go and get washed. He preferred the oversized jumper he had been given near the start, with the combat style levi's. It wasn't warm as such, but it was soft from wear. He'd never worn wool before then. It was too warm for that kind of thing back home.

'Back home' was where his head was at these days. In some ways it had never left, had never made the move with the rest of him when they'd changed continents to settle in Britain for his Dad. Originally he thought the place was pretty rad. Everyone back home constantly spoke of England and the other countries that helped make up the UK and how cool it was and he had been one of them. Now that he had lived the reality he wished he could go home so he could show them what it was really like. It was miserable. It was cold. It wasn't friendly. And it was constantly gray. There was nothing cool or wicked about it. Like, sure, Hogwarts had kinda been a big deal and all and he had been pretty hung up on it to start with. The staircases moved, man! And not because they were made to either; they chose when to move and didn't answer to nobody. And there were ghosts? Who roamed the halls? And sat with them at meals? And that poltergeist, Peeves; he was pretty rad too. Jesse missed him the most out of the place. He lent life to the old castle and caused the most hilarious of ruckus. And he had felt for the guy; Jesse hadn't fit in either. And he'd gotten on quite a few people's nerves.

But then he had always had his family to come home to and his friends back home to write to when things got on top of him a little. The only person who had really taken him on as a friend here was Brinley and he hadn't seen nor heard hide nor hair of her since they'd been forced into this hellhole. But it was here that suddenly he found himself with a few more people to talk to. He wouldn't go so far as to say he suddenly had hundreds of friends as that was far too optimisitc an outlook, and it would be a lie. But he had a couple. Like Finn. Finn had saved him from nearly catching hypothermia and dying just the other week there for no reason... just because he had seen him and had wanted to help. Something he had rapidly realised was out of character for Finn who usually stuck to looking out for himself and the ones he trusted. But he owed him now and he hadn't forgotten what he had done for him by any means. He was just waiting for an opportunity to pay him back.

The other Jesse, as he had taken to calling him so as to not get confused or seem to other people as if he were talking in third person for some reason- like it had seemed originally- was one of the only friends he had in here. One of the only guys who seemed to get him and didn't get annoyed at his accent or his lack of knowledge concerning most things to do with the UK and its history. He now new all about the last war from start to finish, as well as the war before that, and the near war before that. He understood it now. He wasn't just some dumb kid who had come here on a vacation and chosen to stay for the food and the scenery. He wasn't rich, spoiled or entitled. He was just a regular guy. Here, he was just a nobody. Jesse popped the lid off his bottle and sat back a little further, his thumbnail scratching over the beer's label idly. "Same shit, different day. I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever feel my hands and my feet ever again, dude. Its worrying." He drawled tiredly, yawning and shaking his hair forward and then out of his face, "I think that's the only thing I haven't seen so far in the cleaning stores... maybe the sanitation workers keep taking them. I'm more maintenance remember? I fix and stock the toilets, I don't clean them. Still keeping an eye out though." He cracked his neck and shivered, pulling his jacket closer to himself.

"What about you? Anything worth mentioning about the mines?"

LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT, DO YOU WANT ME HERE?

AS I STRUGGLE THROUGH EACH AND EVERY YEAR

AND ALL THESE DEMONS THEY KEEP ME UP ALL NIGHT

Could being cold alter one's personality? Jesse felt a resounding yes at the thought. Surely it did, and surely it had. The winter seemed like it would never end, maybe it was the fact that he was forced to feel the frigid air every moment of every day that made it seem to draw on and on. No matter where he went he was met with a chill. The mines, cold. Kolna, freezing. The courtyard, chilly. At least in the courtyard he had the fire to warm him a bit. But for how long? Soon the guards would holler for the flames to be quenched and they would have to return to the frigid rooms of the Kolna building. Being so cold for so long had an impact, and Jesse could feel it. He had always been a skilled pessimist, able to find the bad in every situation, something he had learned from a lifetime of disappointment. But he had always been able to cheer himself up, make others laugh and himself. Doing that was proving a little more difficult these days...

He felt as though he was turning as cold as the weather these days. It wasn't like him to be this way, he was not a cold person. He was fire in his soul, and he radiated it through every pore. The heat of anger, the warmth of a laugh shared with a friend, the fiery look of flirtation in his eyes. He was fire, and he needed that warmth back- both physically and emotionally. This never ending winter.... He didn't know how much more he could take. But there had been a moment, not long ago that he felt the flames again. They were good for the psyche, a pleasant reminder that things could actually feel good for once. If only he could feel that all the time, like he once had. Instead the only flames he felt now were those before him burning in that rusty barrel. How he wished he could take them with him to bed. His roommates would probably appreciate it, even if it did smoke the place up.

When the other Jesse spoke of not being able to feel his hands or feet Jesse found himself smiling and nodding in agreement. Despite the fire's attempts to warm him he was still cold, a certain type of cold that could only be vanquished by a thorough thawing out. The bottle of beer hardly felt different than the temperature of his hand. "I feel that shit in my soul," he half laughed, leaning back in the warn down chair and studying his free hand. If it hadn't been for his tan complexion he imagined that it would be a bluish purple, like he had seen on those with lighter skin than his own. "I'm so sick of freezing my arse off.... Though about kicking his barrel over and burning the whole building down for warmth. Maybe they'd move us somewhere a little better." Jesse chuckled before taking another draw from his bottle.

The drink was smooth going down, thank Merlin. He hated to force himself to drink, but sometimes he had to in order to sleep, and in order to deal with this shit hole. The boy reminded him of his position, something Jesse had known but somehow forgotten. It was hard to keep track of everyone else, especially when he was fighting for his own survival in this place. Still, he felt bad for forgetting. Jesse was his friend, after all, he should know these things. "Right, right." He nodded as if recalling. "Dude, I would kill for that shit. It stinks like dead rats in my flat. I'm not even joking, like literal dead rat. It's fucked up."

Jesse shuddered at the very though of a dead rodent being hidden away under a cupboard or under some heap of blankets. He had always been quite a neat freak and this place.... This place was nasty. And it wasn't even the tenants to blame, the rats and roaches had lived there long before they did. They simply had to deal with what they were dealt. Even if it was nasty and disturbing to the senses. Hell, even the mines had less rats than Kolna! THAT is disturbing. 

"Same ol' shit, same as you." Jesse said with a shrug. "Oh, I did nearly die." He exaggerated with a twisted smirk. The incident hadn't really been that bad, but the scar did look pretty brutal. He set his bottle down between his feet so that he could roll his sleeve up to show the boy the newest and largest scar on his arm. It had been a little while now, it was nearly healed completely. The mark would likely have turned out much worse had Truly not helped him as much as she did. "My first injury. Some moron got me with his axe, I had to go to Saint Mungo's and everything." Jesse had nearly forgotten about his scar. He had nearly forgotten about everything that happened that day leading up to seeing Truly. After that the only memories he had were of her, not his arm and not any sort of pain he might have felt from it.

It would have been slightly nicer to be a gardener, had there ever been the option or chance for a choice in the matter of the jobs the no-maj's were assigned. At least Jesse had experience with gardens and tending to flower bushes, wild flowers and planting saplings. Back home in L.A, there had been a neighbourhood commitee so to speak comprised of mostly kids his age, and they'd go to the local park to keep it and tend to it for the dog walkers and the joggers. It had been a point of pride doing it every second Saturday in the Summer. But being a janitor? It wasn't a job with strict guidelines and nor was it something he knew. Maintenance was his biggest task and he had to go out to various businesses every other day when they requested someone like him to try and figure out how to fix their broken whatever and he usually had to just make it up as he went along and hoped for the best. He didn't have a mind for this kind of thing. And if it snowed he had to help the street sweepers by clearing it off the roads and the paths while it was still falling. It wasn't like with the Other Jesse, who knew what to expect every day in the mine. Jesse didn't really know what he was walking into next but he had to walk into it anyway with the idea that he would eventually walk back out again. At least he had gotten better than he had originally been when he had first started. The first few months had been dismal and it had showed to the point that he'd been convinced that they'd kill him at any moment for being useless. And he wondered on times like that what the other tasks must be like. What did being a butler entail?

It was around then that he'd really stopped smiling and laughing, the sparkle in his eyes dying until they were a flat dark brown. He struggled with it originally because he'd always been the optimist. Had always been the one near-constantly smiling and joking and just generally high on life itself. Very little managed to get him down back then as he let most of it just wash over him and off like water from a ducks back, never letting it linger long enough to do any harm. Under the constant judging eyes of some of his school peers that had dwindled considerably till he laughed only when others laugh and kept his smiles as restrained as possible. Yet still he had been in the wrong. Wrong for being in the Kitchens when that other student had been as well. Wrong for not knowing the history of the country he'd moved to because they hadn't had much warning before they moved and he'd been more concerned with that than reading up on a noseless monster. Wrong for his accent. The last time he'd seen his friends had been during the exchange program and the main comment from a passing Ravenclaw that stuck with him was that they felt he 'should have gone home, too'. And Jesse would have had he been able to, had he been able to get their old neighbour to let him stay with her just until he finished his schooling so he could see about a job in the world that he knew. But he hadn't and he had stayed, graduating finally and trying to get on with his life while his Dad trained for the special ops in the base near the house, readying for deployment. And this was what it had gotten him. A life of misery, loneliness, and pain.

He twisted in his seat, his hair falling over his shoulders a little as he tipped his head back to squint up at the dilapidated building with an obvious air of scepticism. The chance would be a fine thing but it also wouldn't. The place was awful but it was all they had, and it had to be better than some of the alternatives. "I see your point and all but... Like, Dude, it's too wet and moldy to actually do anything worse than maybe singe it slightly and cause the most horrific smell ever. You'd mostly just end up putting out a decent fire." He reached out a hand towards the flames, knowing that it was too warm for his frigid hands but also believing it was a lesser evil than it turning purple and refusing to cooperate. "It might only be an ant-sized step up from sleeping on the street, but at least no one comes in to bother us. On the street we'd be picked off so easily... though... it would be the best fire ever."

He shook the bottom of his bottle from side to side, listening to the faint splash of beer coming from inside. Jesse had almost begun to believe that it had begun icing up already and that it would soon be more like a slushy. Somehow the idea of a beer slush didn't sound appealing, and he took another long swallow for good measure as if to discourage it from happening. So cold that he didn't even know if his hands were going to freeze in position around the neck of the bottle before he finished it so he'd be unable to let it go. It would be hilarious for a moment at least. Until the panic set in. "At least most of yours are dead. Our couches move with them and their babies, and they make the worst noises because obviously that's where they eat and do their stuff. They're so bold that they sometimes hop up and sleep in the beds next to some of us... which is alarming, considering what rats are wont to do when faced with bitter cold and a warm body." He didn't know why he said the last bit, considering how disgusting it was, but maybe he was feeling a little more bitter about it that he had realised. "Man, I'm sorry. I swear I am looking out for anything that'll make the place smell even a little better."

It had to be said that the Other Jesse had slightly worse luck than he did, and he leaned over in his seat to get a better look as he rolled up his sleeve while shaking his head in disbelief. "Wait... another no-maj-born did that to you? With his pickaxe? Did something set him off?" His voice remained quiet though he was anything by calm- try heavily concerned- and he poured out the remnants of the beer's foam onto the grass between them before dropping the bottle as well. It was a mess to look at even now that it was mostly healed and the blonde hated to think of what it might have looked like when it had first happened. Though on that note.. "Wait... how did that heal so fast, then? I didn't know there was a way to get to a hospital when you were like us and I don't remember anyone in the Kolna's being trained with healing magic." Which, naturally, meant that someone who didn't live here had helped him and he didn't know what to think about that. While it was obviously a good thing as the alternative was just too bad for him to picture right now, it was also a risk with he or his friend got caught. And the idea of losing his- arguably closest- friend in this joint sounded like the nightmare to top all nightmares... and he'd had a lot of them too.

Soon they were going to have to go into the Kolna's. The fire would have to be put out and left behind and they'd have to climb the stairs into the festering flats for the night. It was times like this that he could almost hear his Mom having an aneurysm. She had never been what someone would call a clean-freak, but she was a very clean and tidy person, and their homes had always reflected that. If she could have only seen where he had been for the past 9 months.

LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT, DO YOU WANT ME HERE?

AS I STRUGGLE THROUGH EACH AND EVERY YEAR
AND ALL THESE DEMONS THEY KEEP ME UP ALL NIGHT

The number of muggleborn students in Kolna was astounding, more than he had ever really known in school, and so few had been able to escape Hogwarts before being thrown into registration. Few did escape, though it was rare, every so often one would simply go missing and no one seemed to know where they went. There had been rumors of a sanctuary of sorts, though Jesse knew not where it was or how to get there. He assumed that it was likely out of country, the UK was far too dangerous to safely hide in these days. No matter where they turned on this damn island they would find a death eater. Was that so with the rest of Europe? America? He had no idea. All that he knew was that he wanted out, he just needed a way.

Finding such a thing was far from easy. Death Eaters and guards kept the muggleborns on tight leashes and if they wanted to find a means of escape they would have to be extremely cautious. Maybe it would be easier if he had a family to turn to, someone to simply scoop him up and take him away. Then again, if it were that easy everyone but him would have likely escaped by now. The other Jesse had a family... Were they looking for him? Wondering about his whereabouts? They were muggles, they couldn't possibly know about what was happening in here... They couldn't possibly know what sort of hell he was in. Then again, maybe they didn't know him at all anymore. 

It had been a theory sloshing around in his mind from time to time that these muggleborn families may have been obliviated. That would certainly make things much easier on the Ministry, they couldn't very well have a mass of parents looking for their magical children. Word would get out and spread, and the wizarding world as they knew it would be exposed. Jesse couldn't see the Ministry letting that happen. Perhaps they had staged their deaths, but the work that would have gone into that... No. They must have been obliviated. Jesse wondered if the other Jesse believed such a thing, or knew it to be true. The heartbreak from such a thing... He couldn't fathom it. It was hard not having a family, this much he knew from experience. But to have a family one moment and the next have none, having them not even know you're alive. That was worse.

"You're probably right," Jesse nodded picking at the label on his bottle with an amused smirk. "But it would be a kick-ass fire." Ah, to watch it burn. He couldn't imagine a more beautiful view. The other Jesse had been right, alright. This was better than the streets, and much safer. "I feel like foster care fucked me up... I keep feeling like this shit is temporary, like Monica is gonna come and I'm just gonna go somewhere else tomorrow." It wasn't very often that he let someone in to his thoughts like that. The feeling of it was strange, almost unnatural. He had always been able to make small talk but when it came to deeper things he wasn't much of a sharer. Maybe it was their situation, or maybe just the fact that he felt comfortable with the other Jesse, but he let the thought roll right off the tip of his tongue. 

Jesse downed the rest of his bottle as the older boy spoke of his couch being alive. Ugh, what a disgusting image. A shudder spread through him and not from the cold. He did not wish to think about the squeaks and gnawing noises coming from the piece of furniture. It was bad enough to hear them pattering across the floor as they slept and to hear them tunneling under the dingy mattresses in the flats. "Fuck, that's gross." He feigned a gagging noise thinking of the critters gnawing their way through his ribs as a means to keep warm. "I don't know what's worse, live or dead. The live ones just shit all over and crawl on you, but the dead ones wreak and attract all sorts of bugs." His face was the picture of disgust as he reached down to his crate to grab another bottle. "Last week I saw, like, ten roaches toting off this dead one. I thought it was a little mouse at first, but it was just a half eaten rat. I'm hoping that the other rats ate it and that my flatmates aren't that hungry." 

That had meant to be a joke, but he knew that some of them were hungry. They were supplied food but not much and that meant sometimes people went hungry. He often offered up his portion of the meals if he could hear another stomach growling for sustenance. Jesse was sneaky enough that he could survive off the food he stole from shops, but not everyone was so lucky. Jesse wasn't exactly lucky, he had been dealt the short end of the stick more times than not, but he found that any bit of bad lucky he received equal amounts of good. Just as he had with his injury. He was lucky to have not been seriously injured, many had been in the past, and he had been lucky to have been sent to Saint Mungo's and not just bandaged on the spot. He had been lucky to run into Truly, been lucky to have her fix him up properly at her house. 

"No-mag-born," Jesse chuckled. Merlin, he loved Americans and their silly slang. "Sorry, it just sounds awesome." He ran his finger across the scar with an amused smile before he rolled his sleeve back down to keep himself warm. He picked the beer bottle up from where he had placed it at his feet and took a good drink before he continued. "Yeah, it was an accident though. The head of the ax just, like, flew off and hit me. Pretty fucked up, we just had the owner there, you'd think they'd check the damn equipment. Lucky it didn't hit me in the head, could you imagine? It probably would have if I hadn't been mid-swing myself. " Jesse took another drink from his bottle with the shake of his head. The boy asked about how fast it had healed. Woops, he hadn't thought of a way around that. Saint Mungo's wasn't allowed to help muggleborns the way Truly had, and he couldn't very well throw her under the bus. "The foreman sent me, probably some new policy the owner put in or something," he lied, rolling his eyes for good measure. "Hooked me up with some old ass salve when I got back. Said he couldn't have me working with a bandage in case boss man showed back up."

He'd always imagined his life would have been different. That right about now he'd have been an Ilvermorny graduate, he'd be on the warm sands in California with his friends, going to beach bonfires as the nights got even warmer and no one had to be home so soon anymore. With an actual job, where he got paid, so maybe he'd move out of his parents' place and go find a place of his own. Maybe even get him a girl that he could take out on dates to the diner down the road from Niomi's where they always went during Summer break because their fries were the bomb. Y'know... just be happy. He'd wanted to go to college once they'd gotten back from his Dad's deployment to find out about metalsmithing and enchanting with his best friend Sam, learn what they could really do with their wands out of the confines of school. Jesse had had it all thought out, everything apart from the space where he was in the UK for two years. But it was only gonna be two years, right? So what was the big. He wasn't gonna sweat it. But then it hadn't been only two years... and suddenly he was in hell.

If he had the chance to, like a real clear shot at it, he'd go home in a heartbeat. Faster than a Brit could ask for a cup of tea- which he'd found was really fast. And not home to the house his folks had been given for his Dad's deployment over here; he was talking about going back home to LA where things actually made sense. Or at least they made more sense than things did here in Britain. Because sure; their President wasn't exactly perfect and they had their issues- who didn't, man?- but She wasn't a homicidal maniac who decided that people from no-maj families were suddenly worth the same as rats and had no place in their society. Like that just wouldn't fly in the states. But here... people actually pretended like they couldn't see him just because he was a no-maj-born. All of a sudden it was like he didn't exist, and if he made his presence known it was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. So obviously, he didn't do it. He was sucking it up. He was dealing.

Except he wasn't because not a day went by that he didn't wonder where his parents were at and whether they knew where their youngest son was at. Like sure, they had their brilliant lawyer son still back home who was bringing in cash every other week like the banks were trying to get rid of it, but he was their baby. He was the youngest. The one who hadn't moved out at 16 to try and 'experience life organically'. The one with a wand. Except that no, wait, he didn't even have that anymore. And his parents were probably somewhere random that didn't make any sense and sounded like someone had something stuck in their throat and had been obliviated so they didn't even know he existed anymore. Or hell, maybe they did know, and they'd gotten themselves killed trying to get to him. Who knew. Not him. Like many around here, he didn't know jack shit. All he knew was that he'd never felt so naked and alone in his life, and he never thought he'd ever miss those damned screeching floorboards from their house back in LA.

"It would man, it would. All I'm sayin' is that... if we had somewhere else to go? I'd find a lighter for you. But this place is slightly better than being stabbed. At least you know where death is coming from in there." Yet he almost felt like throwing his hands up with a loud 'Fuck it' and going to find something to torch the place anyway, because half of them were already nearly dead from hypothermia and mold related health problems. A couple with asthma were already gone, man... why he was arguing against setting the place alight was almost ludicrous. "... That's heavy, dude. I can't imagine what that must have been like. See, with my folks... my Dad was always deploying, y'know? So it was usually just me and my mom, since my brother moved out a while back. But we were pretty tight, y'know, we all had each other's backs. If I'd known you better when we were still in Hogs' i'd have said something, and they'd probably have tried to take you in. They were great like that. Really... just really great..." He trailed off quietly, biting the pad of his thumb, then he motioned towards the other Wizard vaguely with his frozen hand. "Mind if I bum another beer?"

Jesse laughed at the obvious disgust and shrugged, the toe of his sneaker making a little dent in the ground while his eyes strayed back to the fire. He could laugh about it now because they were outside and there weren't any rats so far that he could see... but he knew the humour would die in his chest before he was even halfway up the stairs when curfew came around. He'd tried snagging a bed one time when he'd gotten there before they were all taken, but had bailed after an hour when the mattress began moving beneath him and the sound of tearing stuffing sounded right next to his ears. "Either way can kill you so I'd settle for hating them both. One breeds more rats, the other breeds disease and other shit. It's a no win sit', man." He nearly choked at what followed that but he caught himself before the beer foam came out of his nose, and he held up a hand as if to fend his words off as his face screwed. "That is dank, dude! God, if I had eaten something earlier I might have brought it up right now." He finally ground out, laughing in spite of the burning at the back of his throat. He could almost imagine but he really didn't want to. He didn't need that picture in his head. "I might need to bleach my mind after that, let alone anything I have to deal with tomorrow."

In truth he'd lost quite a bit of weight since he'd been forced in here; his metabolism worked fast and their meals didn't exactly do much to fill him. With everything he was doing- what all of them were doing- and the energy spent... it just didn't meet at the ends. It didn't even meet in the middle. But it was enough to keep them alive another day and really, he had long since realised that that was all the 'pure's' cared about. So long as they showed up to their stations and did what they had been assigned to do, they were mostly left alone. So long as curfew wasn't broken, they were mostly left alone. All they had was each other and themselves and that wasn't exactly the most reassuring of things. Not everyone got along. Most just stuck with who they knew. Problem was, Jesse hardly knew anyone as he hadn't really made many friends since moving here, and now he was feeling the fall out of that.

"It makes more sense than you lot's 'muggleborns' or whatever it is they call you- us, here in the UK. No-maj is pretty straightforward, so we just peg 'born' on the end. It makes sense. Where did you guys get muggle from, anyways?" He smiled but he was watching the Other Jesse's scar for a moment so it didn't fully set before it slid from his face again and he turned to look away. "Man that is so heavy... really glad it didn't hit your head though. I'd have been down a friend, and I don't exactly have a lot of those over here. Who else would I join for cold beer on an equally icy night for a chat?" It wasn't a guilt trip, or at least he hadn't intended it to be, but he had been honest just like he always was. He didn't really complain about his life right now- most of it was just in his head and in person he was just silent and seemingly biddable because he didn't want to rock the boat and die. Another thing that had changed... once upon a time two years ago he hadn't even thought about dying. Now... now it was a hard thought to get away from. "Wow..." Jesse let out a low whistle, his brows jumping, "You gotta good boss, man. I wish us janitors had someone like that... if something happened to us, I doubt anyone would stick around long enough to find out about it let alone help. You're lucky, dude."

LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT, DO YOU WANT ME HERE?

AS I STRUGGLE THROUGH EACH AND EVERY YEAR
AND ALL THESE DEMONS THEY KEEP ME UP ALL NIGHT

There had been so many times that Jesse had felt like he had hit bottom at Kolna. The first few months were the hardest to process and the fact that he hadn't died was surely a miracle. There were a lot of times he had wished maybe he had but now he was glad to be still living. Even if it was still living at Kolna. It had been an adjustment in more ways than he could ever imagine. After all, he was used to being shipped out and moved off to Merlin knows where to deal with Merlin knows what kind of conditions. Kolna was just another shitty place on his shitty file as far as he was concerned but the location wasn't the least of his problems. His mouth and attitude were by far the biggest, and most likely tied for first place.

Leaving Hogwarts had sent him into total lockdown mode emotionally. He felt nothing, wanted to feel nothing, but there was a strong rage pushed even more forward by the emptiness he felt. He didn't have much to lose in comparison to the others. There were no parents or siblings. No wife, no kids, no job. To anyone else what he lost would seem like minimal casualites compared to the others in Kolna but the problem was that he hadn't had much to lose to begin wtih. There was no family out there waiting for him to come home. Hogwarts would continue on just fine in his absense, he knew that. Truly would move on without him. That alone had crushed him in it's own devistating way. The sort of devistation small towns suffer when a tornado rolls through, or the kind a family feels as they watch their home burn to the ground. Losing her felt like he had lost everything and he didn't know if there was a way to build up from that. She was his best friend, his girlfriend, back then, and he hadn't only lost her but he had given her up.

He had told himself over and over for months that it was a long time coming. Not the registration but their break up. Between him and Luke, he was never going to be first choice. He was never going to win that fight. Still, the fighter in him had wanted to go down with the final bell and try everything to make it so that he would win but.... There was no win for him. Registration had taken that, and as if that hadn't been enough, it took the only other thing he had left. His wand. It was the only true thing he held to his name and they had taken it and thrown it into a pile with a hundred others just like it. Like it was nothing. He didn't know what they did with them, likely burned them he supposed, but he held out hope that they were stashed somewhere awaiting their return. He had to hope that one day, someday, they would return.

Jesse had held out the same hope for Truly and until recently he had thought it absolutely idiotic. She was long gone just like his wand and he aught to accept that. Seeing her at Saint Mungo's had been a surprise, of course. No one expects to run in to someone they know while bleeding from an axe wound, but there she was. With her came a thousand rays of hope and after returning to her house for bandaging, learning that Luke was gone, it was like the whole damn sun had filled the sky with hope. He had wanted to say something then about them, about becoming an 'us' once again, but he didn't. Instead he had basked in the rays of hope while they lasted and watched them turn bleak again as he left. His life was in shambles and he wasn't sure if he wanted to bring her into that. Who would willingly walk into the hell he called his life? Why would anyone want to? So he had ignored his wants as much as he could and continued on.

That meant continuing on to Kolna while she went back to Hogwarts. It hurt knowing that she was there and he couldn't be, that he would never go again. It was the kind of hurt that made the idea of watching this fucking place burn seem like a good thing, no matter if it left him on the streets. As much as Jesse would have loved to burn it to the ground he knew that they needed it. It was the only place that was safe for them. Looking at the dilapidated, infested, freezing conditions inside the word safe wasn't likely the first thing to come to mind but that was exactly what it was. A safe, albeit nasty, haven. "Very true," Jesse said nodding as he set he bottle between his legs. He stuck his hands out to the fire needed to bring a little warmth to his stiffening fingers. "Death from above, most likely. The whole damn buidling will just whoosh--" he waved both hands toward his face imitating the downward fall of rubble on him. The boy chuckled lightly stretching his arms back out for warmth. "I swear that damn building will kill us before an death eater's do." He looked cautiously over his shoulder. With their luck just speaking the damn title could bring them upon him. "Every time I hear a creak, mate, I'm like oh shit-- this is it, this is how it ends."

That sounded heavy. A building collapsing right on his face, but hearing the words his friend spoke hit him a little harder than he imagined the building would. "I've never heard of anyone daft enough to even consider taking me in." Jesse let out a soft nasally laugh as he looked into the fire. "They must have been pretty great to be people. Hard to lose people like that." His jaw tightened slightly as he crossed his arms against his body. He hadn't meant it to sound so damning, as though his friend's parents were lost forever. From the bottom of his heart he hoped that they weren't but he was a realist, if not a complete pessimist. "But--" he said taking a hasty drink of his beer before leaning down to grab his friend another, "We've got each other's backs in here. We're registration relation now, mate." He handed off the bottle to the other boy with a slight grin. "What's mine is yours."

The very memory of the half eaten rat haunted his very nightmares. Jesse wasn't afraid of many things, a death eater with their wand pointed at him, maybe, but that damn rat was what haunted him. That and the sound of bugs. God, there were so many fucking bugs! It was lucky that most had died in the winter but those who don't die, like roaches who live through nuclear fucking war, those were the worst. Especially at night across the hard floors, hearing their disgusting little feet patting across the ground right next to where he slept. If registration ever came to an end, if maybe twenty years from now he was free and living his life, he thought that the very sight of a roach or rat might send him into a frenzy. This was the sort of shit that traumatizes people for a lifetime. "Bleach your mind? Jess, I saw it with my own eyes! And then I thought that with my brain, like, my minds-fucking-eye saw that as a possibility. I need bleach for my entire being, mate!" Jesse let out a laugh before taking another drink of his near-slush beer only to cut it short to add, "Oi, at that to the list. Air freshener and fucking bleach."

Jesse enjoyed little chats like this with the Other Jesse. It almost made him upset that he didn't have many friends, though Jesse knew that the brits weren't always known for their vast amounts of friendliness. Still, he was a good guy and he felt bad that not many others had given him the chance. If not for her personality at least to hear him spout off American maj-slang. "Y'know, I don't really know." Jesse shrugged trying to think if he had ever really known why or if he had heard it. "Might be a rhyming thing. I used to get called a smuggle-born third year 'cause I'd bring in a bunch of muggle shit. Pens, lighters, candy and shit. Sell it top dollar to the puries, stick 'em where it hurts. Right in daddy's wallet." Jesse chuckled as he stretched his arms out again for warmth. The setting sun was taking the warmth with it and he dreaded the fact that soon enough they would have to go into the flats.

"Well, if I die I want you to have my stash. So long as you pour one out for me," Jesse smiled, patting the crate between them. He always had something stashed away, it was the only thing that kept him sane in this hell hole. "Yeah, Parkinson's a decent enough bloke for being one of 'em. Hasn't cast a curse at me yet, though I've only met him the once. Do you lot even have a boss?"

It was pathetic, really, but Jesse was still fighting to keep his hair blonde instead of letting it resort back to his mousy brown. Whether with bleach, neat lemons... the scalp damage was worth it. He refused to look like his brother. No one had ever know him to be brunet. And the Pures had already robbed him of everything else, so why couldn't he have this? It was probably the cleanest he ever felt with the noxious chemicals he was surrounded by, especially since he'd be returning to the Kolna's each night. Every day he stank of chemicals and corrosives, just like the sanitation workers, as he had his own tasks to do. Like unblocking plumbing, which would then need a dose of bleach to remove the remnants of grime. Half the time his hands got burned as it ate through his gloves, and new ones were only issued every so often. But it didn't smell clean... he smelled sterile. There was nothing fragrant about him. It was either cleaning supplies or the smell of London if he ended up fixing things outside. At least the gardeners smelled of flowers, mown lawns... life. Other Jesse smelled like rock and dust. Neither of them were winners in this, and both pairs of lungs were likely horribly worn.

Not that he had anyone to concern himself with that would overly object to his smell. He had no one to look forward to seeing like that, that he could sit and hold during the cold nights so both of them could be warm, no smiles to fight each day to live for so he could see it again. The closest he'd gotten was with Brinley. The sweet Hufflepuff chick he'd met during his first few weeks at Hogwarts who'd tried to make his transition easier. Had taken him to the beach in the Summer so he could feel a little less homesick. And he'd never gotten a chance really to tell her how much that meant to him as he'd been so caught up in the moment, of throwing himself off the moving staircases- 'parkour!'- and exploring the school. Really, she was one of the only ones who actually tried to help him. The others usually gave him a wide berth or had a go at him for getting things wrong again. As if he'd had a comprehensive book on the dos and don'ts of not only Britain, but Hogwarts specifically, complete with slang and one noseless monster.

It didn't bother him, as such. He had no energy to go steady with anyone these days let alone the opportunity, and honestly, he was content to let himself keep to himself. Other than with Jesse, or Finn. And at times, Marisol. No one else was exactly hanging around to get to know him and at this point he didn't know how to instigate a conversation according to British Guidelines without potentially offending someone. Moments like these, sat at a makeshift fire with the Other Jesse... he all but cherished them. Held them close. Because he didn't know if this was going to change soon. If Jesse would be the first to go next, or him. He didn't want to hope because hope seemed futile in Hell. There was no one on the sidelines waiting to save them. No one gave a damn. So why should he?

The Kolna's all but represented all the abandoned place back home that kids like him would joke were haunted, and would try to break into for a laugh or just to explore. Never in his life had he considered camping out for more than a single night, and he definitely hadn't had the idea so much as cross his mind about living in one. No sane person would. The smell wasn't something to laugh about, the chill wasn't worth a joke. The state wasn't something that he could leave behind unless he wanted to face a more immediate death. And there was something almost ritualistic about setting this decrepit little hole of hell totally alight, so he could finally feel warmth beating against his face and revel in the light it gave and knowing there was no quick way to repair them. But it all came back to one thing= 'What would happen then?". Would they all be slaughtered like livestock and tossed in an unmarked grave together? Relocated? Who was to say. It was better the devil you knew.

"I know, right? It's like a horrific game show of 'spin the wheel' with each option being worse than the last," Jesse grinned in turn, though the hairs stood up all the way down his spine as he waited for the other shoe to drop. From what he'd learned thus far, Volde-morty had put a charm on his name to find... someone. That worked whenever they said it. Who was to say that the Purists wouldn't follow that route next? Like, he didn't know what it would serve to do as they hadn't been forbidden from bitching about them, but he wouldn't put anything past them. There were children in here, for god's sake, how less moralistic could you get? "Yeah... yeah, me too, buddy. Constantly have this feelin' that we're bein' watched, physically rather than magically. If they weren't such no-maj phobes, I'd have said they probably had bugged this place."

Jesse's eyes trained back on the fire to the point that he could feel his pupils protesting, thinking over his family. What life might have been like if they'd been better prepared for something like this. If they had taken someone in like Other Jesse. Would life have been easier? Would they still have been caught out in the end, left to end up just like this regardless? Everytime he thought he was done with questions another one surfaced to silence him. "Where I lived, everyone pretty much got on. Taking someone in isn't stupid as I see it... it's compassionate and it's rewarding. Even if the person being helped is a hard headed ass," he returned, smiling to show he was joking at the last part. Stubborn as a mule was too much of a mouthful. Though it slipped a little as the Other Jesse mentioned about the loss and he pressed his lips together, lifting a shoulder. "I really hope they're okay, man. Every night I'm kept up, wondering if they know, and if they're safe. Wondering if I'll see them again or if they'll even know me if I do..." He looked over finally and took the beer, lifting the end up in a gesture of 'thanks' and twisting off the cap. Jesse didn't necessarily like beer but it was doing its job, numbing him a little. Maybe he'd finally sleep through, tonight. Or maybe he'd be awake to see the dawn. "Registration relations... That sounds tshirt or tattoo worthy."

The bugs over here weren't as bad as back home. Roaches weren't really a common occurrence and there were very few- if any- cicadas... but there were a ton of flies. Spiders. And mosquitos. And a ton of other things he'd never seen before, but he wasn't really in the mood to ponder over them at all. Rats... he'd never seen so many rats. Or mice. Things scuttling in the walls was brand new for him. But so was bunking with anyone so he supposed this whole ordeal was one waking nightmare of surprises. He'd learned a lot in the past few months, like a new sense of humour that was a little dark and twisted. Everyone over here seemed to be innately sarcastic so he had had to learn a thick skin almost immediately. Then, how to respond. Nothing though could prepare him for the mental image of a half eaten rodent. "Bleach for your entire body would make you look slightly more like me," Jesse started, gesturing to his own hair, "But hey... any possibility of my 'popping round' as you guys say, has just died. Even though you're just across the hall." Holding up his hands, he laughed, tipping a splash of beer in and swallowing before he nodded. "That I can probably do."

Old Jesse would have set his sights on a distant future where life had changed again and he was free... free to leave, to be warm again, well fed. Well rested. Even maybe have his parents back and get a real job. But who he was now... he didn't think he had it in him anymore. It was depressing to look at such a far off goal that couldn't even be solidified unless he found a way out or this all... this whole fucking ordeal just stopped. He'd never known such closed minds, such utter racism to these extremes in his life and it made him sick. So he was trying to take each day as it came instead of looking off into the unknown, and made sure to appreciate and enjoy the lighter moments life tossed to him like a bone. "Okay, that is shirt worthy. And also just really great. I can only imagine how they would have taken a calculator." Jesse stooped so he could pull his seat a little closer to the fire and set his bottle between his feet, stretching out his own hands towards the licking flames. He didn't care if he got chilblains.

"Alright, dude, it's a deal. And if I go... you can have these," he pointed at the surfer leather bracelets adorning his wrists with a smile. They were all he had left, really, of who he had been. The most sentimental things by far. "I feel like I should know that name, but I don't. And no... not really. I report to the workers that we're told to report to. It changes from one week to the next. Ain't no one covering our asses, that's for sure."