Love's Home

Chapter 2-2

Jesse wakes up feeling as if his head is stuffed full of cotton, his mouth so dry his tongue feels wooden.

Swallowing, he blinks as he tries to sit up but falls back on the bed as his side screams with agony. He closes his eyes, berating himself for his current predicament. He shouldn’t have let himself be admitted here. He has no money to pay for it and if Trey insists on helping him, Jesse will be more than screwed.

He has to leave. Now.

Ignoring the pain, Jesse throws the covers back and that’s when he realizes that he is just wearing a tiny hospital gown that hardly covers his backside. s**t. He eyes the cupboard at the corner of the room and wonders whether his clothes are there. They’d better be. He hobbles towards the cupboard, groaning in pain. He sighs in relief when he sees his clothes hanging inside it.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Jesse jumps and the jeans he’s trying to put on slip from his fingers. He turns around and sees Trey standing at the door. Jesse fumbles to grab his jeans from around his ankles and turns his back towards the wall, holding the hospital gown tight behind his back with his other hand.

Trey steps in and closes the door behind him. Jesse flinches when Trey comes closer, and he clenches and unclenches his hands. Jesse finally lets go of his jeans, sighing as he does so.

“Trey, I have to go. Really.” He doesn’t look at Trey.

“You’re staying for the night. They need to keep you under observation for another day.”

“I’m fine,” Jesse says. “Just bruised a little. They don’t need to keep me here.”

“Oh yes, they do. You passed out on me, Jesse.”

“That—,” Jesse feels blood rushing up to his face. “That was nothing. I was hungry.”

“Jesse...” Trey’s voice is gentle, coaxing. Jesse feels Trey’s hands on his arms. “You should rest.”

No, I shouldn’t, Jesse thinks. And he can’t. He has no way to pay for all this. He has no insurance, nothing.

Ignoring his protesting ribs, Jesse bends down to pick up his jeans. He catches his breath as pain assaults him and he is grateful for Trey’s hands on him, helping him up. He stammers, “I—I’m sorry. f**k!”

Trey lets Jesse go and turns to the window. “You haven’t told me what happened. Were you robbed?”

Trey turns to face him again and Jesse doesn’t know what to say or do so he simply steps away from his jeans and goes towards the bed. He feels Trey’s eyes follow his every movement. Jesse takes a deep breath as he climbs up onto the bed and arranges the covers over himself.

“You haven’t answered my question,” Trey says quietly.

“Trey…”

“Ah, Trey, there you are.”

Both men snap their heads towards the door as it swings open.

“Man, why did they make the restroom so far away.”

Jesse doesn’t know what to make of the guy who enters the room. Brent—Jesse remembers him—Trey’s co-actor in the series. Jesse hasn’t talked much to him, he only knows him as Trey’s best friend. He often sees them hanging out together in between takes.

“Jesse, right?” says Brent and he laughs. “Dude, you should never do that again.”

“Do what?”

“Make Trey worry like that. But perhaps it’s good for him to have other things to worry about besides his dogs.”

Jesse smiles uncertainly.

“I’m so grateful for what he has done to help me. And you, too, of course,” he adds quickly.

Brent waves his hand dismissively. “Blame Trey for that.”

Jesse can’t help but laugh at that and Trey grins, too. The mood lightens up somewhat after that and they talk about non-consequential things, the happenings at the set, and the gossips among the actors. Sometimes—no, most of the time, though, Jesse can’t follow the conversation when it’s about the scripts and the acting, things that he knows nothing about. He notices that Trey changes the subject whenever he grows quiet and he’ll say something to include Jesse in the conversation again.

After some time, Jesse begins to nod off, his lids heavy. He feels a gaze upon him and he looks up, meeting Trey’s smiling eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, blushing slightly.

“Don’t be,” Trey says softly. He turns to Brent. “Say what. Why don’t you go home, get some sleep?”

“What ‘bout you?”

“I’m staying here with Jesse. I can have a little lie-down here if I need to.” Trey looks at Jesse. “Right, Jess?”

Jess.

“Umm, sure, sure,” Jesse answers. Trey called him Jess. He fumbles, not quite sure what to say. Trey Miller, the TV star, wants to stay here with him? Him, a nobody?

“Or…” Jesse starts.

“Yes?”

“It’s just—err, you don’t really have to stay but, uh, never mind—” Jesse falters to a stop.

“Uh, okay.” Trey scratches the back of his head.

Brent looks from Trey to Jesse and back to Trey. He looks confused and he opens his mouth as if to say something but he closes it again when Trey gives him a warning look.

* * * *

Trey is relieved when Brent finally decides to go. He has a feeling that Jesse had been about to tell him what happened when Brent came in, and now that they’re alone, Jesse might open up about what had occurred to leave him so badly injured. Unfortunately, by the time Trey gets back to Jesse’s room, Jesse’s already fast asleep, his back to him. Trey sighs. Jesse must have been exhausted, what with his injuries and all the meds.

He pulls up a chair to Jesse’s bedside and sits there, folding his arms and resting his head on the edge of the bed. He could use a little nap, too. With the adrenalin rush draining away, he realizes how tired he is. He nods off within seconds.

* * * *

Dr. Wilson knocks softly on the door before opening it. He thought that he should just check on this particular patient before he goes home. Not that he’s worried about Jesse, Jesse is perfectly fine, but there’s something about the young man and his friend that reminds him of himself and his best friend, George. George was exactly like the tall boy when Wilson was hurt in an accident many years ago. Hovering. Protective. He smiles at the sight before him. Both men are asleep, one lying on his side, the other with his head on the bed, his hand on his friend’s side. Dr. Wilson withdraws, closing the door gently behind him. Yes, just like him and George.

* * * *

When Dr. Wilson steps into Jesse’s room for his afternoon rounds, he notices that something seems to be amiss between the two men. Jesse is sitting up on the bed, his face stony, not looking at Trey.

Trey is sitting in the same chair that he had slept in some time before, his back rigid. They are both silent though it looks like Trey wants to say something to Jesse, his face flushed and his expression strained. They both flinch when Dr. Wilson clears his throat.

“Good afternoon,” Dr. Wilson says.

“Good afternoon,” Trey answers, glancing at him before looking back at Jesse, who merely shrugs and looks down, fussing with the covers around him.

Dr. Wilson takes the nurses’ observation chart hanging at the end of the bed, flipping through it. “Mr. Gray, Mr. Miller.” He nods at Jesse. “Everything seems to be fine and you’re good to go. Come back if there are any bad headaches, vomiting, or difficulty in breathing. I’m not expecting any complications as long as you keep taking the meds I prescribed.”

Trey jumps out of his chair, relief washing over his face as he grabs the doctor’s hand, shaking it vigorously.

“That’s totally awesome. Thanks, Doc.”

Dr. Wilson chuckles, amused by the young man’s unrestrained exuberance. Jesse’s smiling too, though his expression is more guarded that Trey’s, and he still looks unhappy. He says his thanks softly.

Dr. Wilson goes on to explain the discharge procedure, and how Jesse should take care of himself after he leaves the hospital. He reminds them to give him a call if there are any problems before he walks out of the room, smiling.

* * * *

“I don’t know how I’m going to pay for all this.”

This is not going to be easy, Trey thinks. He has realized earlier on that Jesse has issues, lots of them. It had been awkward enough when Jesse woke up to Trey draped over him, and not only that, Trey had been slobbering over Jesse’s arm as well. Trey flushes with embarrassment when he remembers that.

“Jesse—” he starts.

“I. Can’t.” Jesse cuts him short.

“About the bills and all,” Trey says. “Don’t worry about that. They’ve been taken care of.”

“Trey, you don’t understand—”

“You’ll pay me back of course.”

Jesse turns away. “That’s the problem,” he mumbles. “There’s no way I can pay you back.”

“You know, it doesn’t matter if you pay me tomorrow or next month,” Trey says quickly, trying to put as much reassurance in his voice as he can. “It’s okay with me, I swear.”

Jesse looks up at Trey. He looks resigned but at least he’s not saying no.

Trey smiles and he stands up. “Come on. Let’s get ready. You’re going home.”

“I’ll go call a cab. Brent said he’d pick us up but I really don’t want to bother him. You’re all right here on your own for a while?”

“Trey, may I say something?”

Trey looks at him expectantly.

“Of course. Shoot.”

“I, uhh, I can go home alone,” Jesse stutters. “You’ve done so much already—”

Trey shakes his head, frowning.

“It’s no trouble. You heard what the doctor said. I don’t have anything to do anyway. What’s the problem?”

“Well, nothing.”

“Good. You get ready while I go call the cab. Where is your place? Somewhere near?”

* * * *

Jesse doesn’t know what to say. How is he supposed to tell Trey that there is no place whatsoever? He sits up slowly, hands twitching on his gown looking at anywhere but Trey.

“Huh, Jess? Where do you live?” Trey asks again when Jesse doesn’t answer.

“Nowhere,” Jesse mumbles.

“What? What do you mean?”

“There’s no place, Trey. I have nowhere to go.” He looks up at Trey, who looks dumbfounded.

“I don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand? I have no place to live, no house, not even a room to go to.” His voice shakes a bit.

“How come? What happened?”

Jesse shrugs. He doesn’t feel like telling Trey his life problems. He hates feeling sorry for himself. Jesse doesn’t want to tell Trey anything because he’s afraid that the whole dam will break once he starts talking.

“Come on. Talk to me, Jesse.”

“Why? What am I to you, Trey? Why are you here at all? You don’t even know me. It’s not like I’m your friend.”

“Oh.” Trey’s face falls, the hurt clear in his voice.

Jesse bites his lower lip, wishing he could take his words back. God, what has he done? He owes his life to Trey and there he went thoughtlessly hurting Trey’s feelings. Some guy I am, he thinks bitterly.

“You’re not some stranger I met at a bar or something, Jesse,” Trey says stiffly. “I thought we were—but apparently I’m wrong.” He whirls around and starts to leave.

Jesse feels bad. He wants to be left alone, wants Trey to just go away and yet why does he feel like he has just kicked a poor, helpless puppy?

“Trey, please! Please don’t go.”

Trey stops in his tracks.

“Jesse—” he says, turning back to look at Jesse.

“I’m sorry, Trey. I shouldn’t have said that. You—you saved my life.”

Trey sighs and walks back towards Jesse, nudging the chair nearer to the bed. He sits.

“Jesse, what’s wrong? How come you don’t have a place to live? Has it been long?”

“No, only since yesterday.” But it feels like forever. “My roommate moved out and I can’t afford the rent on my own. They kicked me out. I don’t have enough money to get another in such a short time around here. Those rooms are just —”

“Wait,” Trey interrupts. He seems to remember something. “When I met you last night—where did you go after that?”

Jesse shrugs. “The park just outside the set.”

“You slept there?”

“Uh-huh. And I lost my bags.” Might as well tell him everything. “Those hoods took them, along with everything I had in it. I have nothing now. Nothing.”

Jesse dares a glance at Trey to see him looking down at his hands, silent. Has he finally scared Trey off with his tale of woe and misery?

“Trey?” he asks tentatively.

Trey looks up, his eyes bright and determined. “You’re coming with me to my house—no, no,” he says when Jesse opens his mouth to protest. “You’re coming with me and that’s final.”

He stands up and looks around him, “Where’re your clothes? Oh here.” He holds them out to Jesse. “Change, I’m getting the cab.”

Jesse nods numbly.