Various Imagines.

Jesse Eisenberg

"Do you want some tea or something?"

I stood by the doorway of the kitchen staring at him. He was sitting on the living room couch, cross legged, staring at his laptop. His metal rimmed glasses sat at the bridge of his nose as he looked through the circled lenses intensely. He must have been watching words string together.

"No, no tea. Thank you though."

     For a few moments I stood in the distance watching his eyes scan the screen while his fingers made the words floating around in his mind a reality, a string of words. He focused as his fingers tapped on the back of his laptop screen. With my own tea, I sat down on the couch a bit away from him. I didn't want to interrupt his process. Sipping my tea, I felt proud. It wasn't too hot or too cold. Isn't it weird when things like that make you happy and completely satisfied with yourself? The clock in front of us read 1:45am. A heavy sigh heaved from Jesse.

"What's a matter babe?" I asked, curling my knees to my chest. I liked being curled up.
"I can't...I just. What am I—ugh." He shut his laptop clearly irritated with none other than himself. "I'm sorry." He apologized for what seemed to be no reason at all.

"Sorry? Take a sip and ease up on yourself. You've been at that for hours. Your ingenious mind needs a break." I held my cup out to him as he chuckled. His smile was small, his lip pressed tight, but he was obviously pleased. He had such a boyish smile.
"Thank you." He handed me back my cup. I looked at it, halfway gone already. I looked back at him slowly. "Sorry." He muttered as I took my turn to chuckle.
"No reason to apologize Jesse. It's nothing more than water and a tea bag." He smiled that boyish smile. "What were you working on anyway?"
"A play. Well, a script. I'm having a hard time getting in to character tonight. I can't seem to let the characters take over tonight, you know?"

     I nodded. I knew what he meant. I'd had this conversation plenty of times with him. I knew now what he considered to be his style of writing. Planning out the ending, and getting from point A to point B, was not his way of creating such pieces. He enjoyed feeling what his characters felt. It made me think, it really did. He seemed to believe mapping out a story, or play in this case, was a false representation of humans as irrational and impulsive people.

"Perhaps you should get some rest? You have a big day tomorrow." He ignored my suggestion completely.
"I've been hiding something from you." He blurted out. I tried to keep a steady gaze. I didn't want to make assumptions, and the way he stared at me through wide hazel eyes had me doubting it was as serious as my mind made it seem. My head liked to play tricks on me.
"What's that Jesse?"

     I placed my tea on a small table by us and scooted closer to him. I'm not sure why. No, that's a lie. I wanted to sit with him, not across from him. His arm welcomed me, and I felt the warmth of his body on mine as I rested my head on his chest. He started playing with my hair, tucking it behind my ear and then stroking it gently. I smiled contently.

"I've been trying to write down some things. Seemingly things I couldn't like, say myself, you know?" He was babbling a bit. His free hand gesturing with his fingers pressed together. I watched it in front of me, still smiling. How adorable.
"What sorts of things?"
"Really sappy things. Those aren't comical at all. Like, not even a little bit. And I mean, that sounds ridiculous coming from me, right?"
"Ridiculous? No. Surprising? Sort of. I mean, you aren't the type to write long pinnacle descriptions of sunsets or flowers."
He laughed a bit. "No, and I'm still not. They're more like thoughts on top of thoughts on top of more thoughts evaluating yet other thoughts."
"That sounds more like your writing."
"It's apparently becoming a stream of consciousness stemming of something that reminded me of you."
"And what would that be?"
"A pinnacle flower." We both laughed. "It was an off blue."
"Your favorite color."
"Our  favorite." He corrected me.
"What about the flower?"

"How it made my arm itch."
I chuckled. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah because I nervously thought about giving it to you."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, and then I got sweaty, and wow do I hate being sweaty. Because it reminds me of gym class in school, and how awful I was going about all of it."

"Yeah? And then what were you thinking?" I asked through laughter.
"Then I was thinking maybe its okay that I was horrible in gym, because you don't like jocks anyway. But then I started picking at my nails."
"Why's that?" I asked playfully.
"Because jocks are jerks. But then I stopped because I remembered you aren't a jerk."
"I'd hope not."
"No, but I get a similar thud in my chest when you're around. I mean, same nervous ticking. Just a better reason to be nervous."
"Why would you be nervous?"
"Because. I don't want you to get all frustrated with me and leave me."
"That's absurd Jesse."
"Welcome to the life of irrational anxieties."
"I've been there for quite some time." We both chuckled.

"I know. I've been meaning to give you this stuff. But, I feel my words are too cold, and flat, and that you deserve so much more (Y/N), you know?."
I sat up, staring him. "I don't know. I find your writing to be anything but bland."
"I know, you've been plenty supportive."

     I crawled in to his lap and felt his hands delicately place themselves on to my hips. I kissed him tenderly, making sure to do my best to wash away his self-doubt. He looked up at me with a smile as bright as the sun. "Thank you." He whispered. I smiled, kissing him once again. We were able to feel each other's grin, until the kisses became passionate, and his arms wrapped around my body. He slipped me on to the couch besides him so I was lying on my back. One forearm was propping him over me as it rest on the back of the couch. "Can I get you a glass of something smooth to drink?" He smiled softly. I shook my head as he placed his glasses by my cup of 'probably cold by now' tea. I felt his lips kiss my cheek and neck.
     My skin tingled as I pulled him in closer. "Thank you for loving me through it (Y/N)." He whispered by my ear. I knew what he meant as soon as the words met my eardrum. It sent a chill down my spine. It was our thing. We both thanked each other often for loving the other through the anxieties we suppressed. It was like thanking the other person for acceptance, something you shouldn't think twice about having. But, we did, and so we always made sure to remind the other just how much it helped the self-doubting hatred we laid on ourselves thick. In a way, we were the reflection of each other we actually enjoyed looking at. I mean, considering neither of us were fond of mirrors. "I love you too." I whispered back, feeling almost breathless. I felt a smirk from his lips on my skin.

"You missed a perfectly good opportunity to say something sappy, like, thank you for being my rock." He said in a hushed tone, pulling away from me.
"I rather tell you I love you. You know you are, why would I say something like –"
His hips pressed to mine, forearms besides me. "Well..." He looked at me with his mouth scrunched to one side. I smiled wide. He was always making me smile, almost effortlessly it seemed. I pulled him in for another kiss. Jesse never missed a moment, did he?