Hot N' Cold (Vincent)

[Jesse Adams]

December 6, 2013

Smoke mingled with the cold air as Jesse exhaled. He was leaning on the side of the building in the courtyard, once again playing hookey. For the past three weeks he had successfully avoided training, and for good reason, too. Not only had he lost it at his trainer over something stupid, but he’d ended up spilling things that only Dr Neville had been privy to prior to the session. He’d also pulled the idiot move of dropping his dream journal on his trainer’s desk before storming out.

He’d fought with himself over it since he’d left the office. Part of him argued that it might be a good thing for Vincent to understand him a little better. A bigger part denied that and wanted desperately to get the thing back. He just... couldn’t face his trainer. So, he’d done what he’d been good at all his life.

He’d run away. At least as far as he could get on school grounds when he was supposed to be in training sessions. He was sure he’d be written up or thrown in detention, or hell, even expelled at this point, but he was finding himself caring less and less. Maybe Fifi could turn her life around, but he was finding it harder and harder, no matter what he did. He hadn’t expected it to be easy, but he also hadn’t expected it to be this hard, either.

Bundled up against the cold, he took another slow drag of his cigarette before checking his phone for the time. He still had almost an hour before he was due inside in history. Lots of time to chain smoke in preparation for being cooped up inside. He was okay with that, as long as he didn’t have to see his trainer. Preferably for the rest of his time at the institute, but he suspected that he wouldn’t have his way for long. Eventually someone would collar him and force him back inside, but for now he would enjoy his little piece of solitude.

[Vincent Meian]

The last session Vincent had had with Jesse Adams had gone... poorly. The two had ended up arguing with each other, barely stopping before reaching a crescendo into a shouting match, and the younger male had stormed out of the office after throwing a book at the temporarily crippled trainer. That book had been very important, and after some brief consultation on the subject, he had decided to take the spitefully given permission of the blonde to heart and read it. What was written in the pages was certainly... enlightening.

Having had them consistently for two decades, the Japanese man knew a lot about nightmares. He knew what could cause them, coping mechanisms for dealing with them, illnesses or powers that would amplify them, situations that could make them more frequent. A number of his students had terrible nightmares, either from their powers or from their own battered pasts; some were from mental scarring. Jesse, it seemed, was a combination of all three - if he was any judge, of course. And being a soldier whose own night terrors were caused in part from deep-seated guilt, fear, and not a little untreated trauma... he felt at least somewhat capable of identifying that.

Still, despite telling the boy to be back on Monday, the teen never showed up. It was expected, honestly, and rather than calling campus security the trainer had let him be. Sometimes, time apart was helpful, even if he would have rather spoken of what he read while it was very fresh.

At least it gave him more time to read and understand. Especially because translating some of the tear-stained angry scrawls was very difficult.

Finally, though, the crutches were left at home and the tall man was able to walk around the school once more. And after the blonde missed his Wednesday appointment, Vincent was determined to find him on Friday. They needed to talk. If only that they could come to an understanding.

After checking the dorms, Vincent stepped from the building, zipping his olive green military jacket up to his neck and adjusting the white scarf encircling his neck beneath it. It as cold enough to merit both, and the frosty air made his bare hands seek the warmth of his pockets as soon as their task was complete. Golden eyes were covered by a pair of sunglasses as well; the trainer was rarely seen without them during the summer, and the winter was an even more frequent occurrence given the amount of refracted light from clouds and snow. It wasn't a side-effect of his powers for his eyes to be so sensitive - just a quirk of nature, like his height.

The pacing of the grounds eventually led him to the courtyard, and the Japanese man spotted his quarry looking the other direction and smoking. Changing direction slightly to come up to him, he stopped about fifteen feet away - close enough to catch Jesse if he tried to bolt, but far enough to give some space. "Adams-san," he greeted, his tone neutral but non-threatening. "You should be in my office now, should you not?"

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse honestly didn't expect Vincent himself to chase after him. Last he'd seen, his trainer had still been on crutches, and he hadn't bothered asking why. If anyone had come after him, he'd half expected one of the dimwitted security guards to haul him inside. Skipping training was one thing, but skipping training when you were skating on thin ice already? Probably not the best thing in the world to be doing. He just didn't care at the moment.

What he did care about was that his cigarette was almost at the filter. Time for a new one. It didn't take much to flick the butt into the snow and pull out a new one. In seconds it was lit and Jesse was a happy boy again. Yes, he was probably killing his lungs, but what a way to go. The smoke managed to calm him when little else did, and he was actually relaxing.

Well. Was.

The crunch of the snow alerted him to his company, but he didn't look up until he heard the voice. Scowling at the name, he didn't bother to actually look at his trainer. "What do you want?" He didn't bother to address the fact that he wasn't a big fan of the name. His expression probably did that for him. "I didn't think you'd want me back after last time." He wouldn't have, if he was in Vincent's shoes. In an effort to soothe whatever nerves he had left, he took a quick drag on his cigarette and held the smoke for a moment before releasing it. "How much detention do I have? Or are we skipping straight to being expelled?"

[Vincent Meian]

"I am your trainer," he answered simply. "What I want matters little, provided your education is cared for." He would not have objected to seeing the boy, but he understood the necessity for space as well. The young man had needed time to process and cool down, so he had been given that time. No more, no less. "As for punishment, I did not deem it appropriate, given the circumstances."

How was that for an incentive? Besides, Hammel didn't expel people - not really. Not when they were as 'dangerous' as Jesse Adams. Not that Vincent believed him dangerous, per say; confused, lost, angry, and afraid. But not dangerous, despite their argument three weeks ago.

"However, I would appreciate it if you were to attend today," the tall man added, almost nonchalantly. "I feel the need to stretch my legs properly, and would prefer company on my walk."

Though it may have sounded like a suggestion, it was not. Not even close. but at least outside, Jesse could continue burning nicotine if he wished; the older man would not stop him if that was what he wanted to do.

[Jesse Adams]

Yes, Vincent was his trainer. But it wouldn't be the first time someone in a position like that just gave up on him. Or worse. In answer, he simply shrugged at first. "I'm sure you could give me to someone else if you really wanted to. Wouldn't be the first time." Or the last, probably. He tended to invoke those kinds of desires in people. No punishment was novel, however. "No punishment at all? Not even a smack?" Though the tone was deadpan, he intended it as a joke. After all, he'd given Vincent permission to read his journal. He'd probably pick up on what he was implying.

He probably wouldn't be impressed with it either, but what could you do?

His first instinct was to walk the other way at the invitation. Surely Vincent couldn't run yet, right? But he was almost curious as to how his trainer had found the book, and it was that curiosity that pushed him away from the wall. "I don't know how you think we're going to train outside, but whatever." He would step a little more carefully around the older man at the moment, at least until he figured out his feelings on their last session. That meant agreeing to this ridiculous walk.

[Vincent Meian]

Vincent rarely passed off students. The only time he'd done so was when a student simply could not be trained by him due to their powers; then, it had been immediate and without meeting the student, and also likely because of a clerical error that they'd been put with him in the first place. But once he met with a student, they stayed with him until their training was completely finished. Often, this meant until they graduated. Sometimes sooner, such as in the case of Jesse's roommate Koty Hura. But he never gave up.

Stubborn sonuvabitch that way, wasn't he?

"I intend to see your training through," he explained, shrugging slightly to convey his disinterest in the idea. "I would be disappointed to see our progress be reversed by someone less experience than I."

As for punishment, the man quirked an eyebrow at the teen, the black line lifting above the shape of his glasses. He had read what had occurred in a number of those dreams, knew that even some of the good ones had held physical abuse in their depths. He would not fall into that trap with any of his students, but now he especially would not with Jesse. He was very careful about such things. "No. I will not even issue an informal reprimand."

Taunting will get you nowhere, Jess.

"This is not to train." The phrase was simple, but held quite a bit of meaning as the pair began to walk, smoke from the blonde's cigarette trailing in their wake. "I merely wish to walk. Perhaps to speak, if you are so inclined. During this hour, your time is mine, and I would spend it with you rather than ignoring my duties as your teacher."

Besides, as had been pointed out, the psychic's abilities were not as flexible as others of the same mental ability sets; he needed physical contact and complete focus. Walking, or even being outside, would likely be too much distraction for him.

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse wasn’t used to this idea of consistency. Even before he’d gone to MSAD and fallen under Gabriel’s mentorship, he had had at least two trainers prior to running. He’d almost come to expect it from Hammel’s trainers. Yet Vincent was claiming otherwise. Well, they’d see about that.

“Yeah, well, whatever.” He scuffed his foot in the snow. “We’ll see how long you can handle it.” Not that he was going to go out of his way to be a pain in the ass, no. Never.

Well. Maybe a bit. To test him.

“What’s the fun in breaking rules if you don’t get punished for them?” Again, he was taunting, but at least he wasn’t bolting away across campus. Not yet, anyway. “But thanks. I guess.” This clearly meant no more avoidance, much to his dismay. Cracking taunting jokes apparently was his way of dealing with it. If he kept that up, maybe he could keep whatever Vincent actually wanted to talk about at bay.

“It’s fucking freezing out here and you want to walk?” Jesse shook his head, wondering just how sane his trainer really was. “I was only out here because I needed a break.” He didn’t have to say what for – that much was clear. “If you’re just watching to make sure I stay out of trouble, I’m not doing anything.” Except skipping class and killing off lung cells one by one by a hundred. Still, he kept in step with Vincent, still curious about his reactions. And worried. But mostly curious.

[Vincent Meian]

Whether or not the nineteen year old believed him or not was his own prerogative. It was (as always) the truth, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he was. Vincent could be just as stubborn and twice as aggravating when he wanted to be.

"Perhaps you will find more entertainment in obeying the rules instead." The tone he used was light and dry, almost as if the older man was amused. (He was.) It didn't show well on his face, but he did glance to the shorter male to catch the expression on his face. He found this whole situation somewhat humorous, if only because he'd seen it so many times before. If not in this exact way, of course. "But, you are welcome, regardless."

"It will be warm enough as we move," Vincent answered simply, rolling his broad shoulders in another shrug. "Smoke if you will; it does not bother me." A number of his coworkers, both in Japan and here, smoked regularly. Jesse was more than old enough to purchase the cigarettes and make the decision - as an adult, he would not be refused that right.

As for watching him, that was easy enough. All it required was alerting the security guards or paying attention to the blonde himself; the Japanese man already knew which he preferred. His steps were casual, though not slow, and the strides were measured that the shorter male would have no trouble keeping pace with him. But, probably the most frustrating thing about this whole 'session' for Jesse, was that he was quiet and calm. As if all he was doing was simply enjoying an early winter's stroll across the grounds.

He could bring up the journal any time. But... not yet. They had an hour - it could wait.

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse had a hard time believing adults, mostly because most of the ones he’d been close with at any one point in his life had often lied to him, or to other people. He didn’t care how big an honor code his trainer had. He’d have to see it to believe it. Or in this case... he had no idea how he was going to believe it without just sucking it up and seeing it through.

“Rules are made to be broken. There’s no fun in following them.” God, this was like a teenager testing the will of his parents. Only Jesse hadn’t really had contact with his parents for a few years, now. He had other people to push against now. At least he wasn’t doing it in a violent manner. He was simply testing his limits, and his trainer would have to stand in for a parental figure. ... Okay, no, ew.

At least he wasn’t lecturing him on the evils of cigarettes. Though slightly disappointing as the teenager practically lived to butt heads now, at least he didn’t have to defend the habit. Maybe that small allowance would help him get through this... whatever it was. “You’re not gonna tell me I’m killing myself?” He couldn’t help but poke buttons. If he didn’t have conflict, he really didn’t know how to deal with people.

The quiet was irking the teenager. This was too... casual. Too weird. It was making him feel unbalanced and nervous, and as a result his second cigarette was finished much faster than the first. He dug for another, fumbling with the lighter until he couldn’t take it anymore. “You read the journal.” It wasn’t a question, but he wanted an answer. “Why the hell else would you want to go wandering around?”

[Vincent Meian]

Vincent was more used to being a surrogate father to his students than Jesse likely was applying that role to the adult males in his life. He was used to being turned to for help, to test limits and boundaries, for discipline and understanding. He gave advice, scolded, comforted, and gave space in equal measure. He had practice at this and had grown as comfortable as he could be in the role. If the blonde felt the need to lash out at him, chafe against rules, and force issues already resolved, so be it. It was part of what the trainer was there for.

"Why would I tell you something you already know? That would be redundant and unproductive." If the teen knew smoking was bad for his health and did so anyway, where was it his place to chastise? Besides, the comment was obviously meant to rile him, perhaps to insinuate that he wasn't a responsible adult for scolding him. But, Jesse was an adult, even if he still acted like a child; he could make his own decisions about his body, provided they coincided with the law. (Granted, they may have a talk if Vincent ever caught him drinking underage, but that was not the issue here.)

Unlike his student, Vincent found the quiet relaxing. It meant that some thinking was going on, even if the fidgeting teen brought some anxiety to the mix. The question, of course, followed not long after.

"I did," he admitted, though he did not need to. "Is that something you wish to speak about?"

Coy, thy picture definition.

[Jesse Adams]

The problem with Jesse was that he couldn’t deal with father figures in his life. His own had been far from a shining example of fatherhood, and had somewhat (read: majorly) tarnished his ability to relate to older males without expecting conflict. Be it physical or verbal, he was always expecting it, and if it didn’t happen? He felt... off balance. And if someone actually seemed to be looking out for him? It just made him defensive. That was what had happened with Max... Nate... whoever. He’d seemed to start to care, and Jesse had run away. He didn’t need another shitty father figure, so if that was what Vincent was doing, the attempts would be largely ignored. Or pushed against.

“... Because that’s what adults do.” In a vague effort to display his displeasure over the idea, Jesse huffed on his cigarette again. Nothing said he had to be pleasant about this. It was his goddamn right to be petulant about it, and he was going to take advantage of that. Maybe if he dug his heels in enough, he could get Vincent to give up on him, too. Or at least stop caring about him in that creepy, fatherly way. It was making his skin crawl.

The answer was definitely what Jesse had been expecting, but it didn’t make him feel any better. “I don’t want to.” Everything about Vincent was getting under his skin today, including the way he spoke. “But I probably have to, right?” The last thing he wanted to do was pretend to bond with his trainer over something as... personal as the journal. The regretful part of him reared its’ head, as if to say ‘told you so,’ but he shook it off and jammed his hands into his pocket. “You gonna give it back at least?”

[Vincent Meian]

Asking (or telling) Vincent not to act like a father was like trying to demand that the sun stop shining. It was so ingrained into his being at this point that even when he wasn't being particularly 'fatherly', there were still aspects that shone through in the way he spoke and carried himself. It was as much a part of him as his military training, his scars, his power. It's doubtful he could have stopped caring about a student even if asked. Dislike he could manage; apathy was much harder.

The reference to adults as a collective made him shrug again; maybe they did, maybe they didn't. It depended on the adult. "I would say such a thing to a child," he admitted. "But you are of an age where you have been deemed fit to make your own decisions on this matter. Why should I argue fruitlessly when you have made your choice?"

He'd had a similar argument with a number of parents when he was training students at Eisai, once it was discovered that he had a rather large if not detailed tattoo covering his right arm and shoulder. He was an adult, the marks were gained legally, and had no illegal affiliations - what right did they have to say he could not teach when it in no way impaired his ability to do so? Cigarettes did not impair Jesse's ability to focus, control his powers, or be a functional member or society, nor was his choice illegal at his age. He knew the dangers and faced them of his own will; there was nothing to be done.

No matter what Jesse may have thought of him, the Japanese man was not the type to pry where he wasn't wanted. If the younger male didn't want to talk, then so be it. They could walk in silence, or speak on something else. But the fact that the blonde himself had brought it up at all showed that it was something he wanted to mull over for a while. So, without a word of expectation, one scar-crossed hand unzipped his jacket partway, plucked the notebook from a pocket inside the lining, and held it out expectantly. It had been leafed through, of course, but it was in no worse shape and had not been physically altered since it'd been given to him.

"Take it now, if you wish. I have been intending to return it for some time, but that is considerably more difficult when you will not see me in person." His head tilted slightly, giving the impression that he was giving the shorter male a sort of knowing look, then turned back forwards. "Speak if you wish - it will certainly help the process of understanding. Which was what you wanted, was it not?"

[Jesse Adams]

Vincent might have met his match. Jesse pushed away parental feelings as easily as he breathed air. He didn’t feel the need to be babied or have his hand held or even looked after in the slightest ways. It both scared and irritated him in strange ways, and he couldn’t wait to graduate and get under from everyone that was always trying to have their hands in his business. Or his life. That most definitely included Vincent. Nakia... he’d had a harder time with. Unlike his father, his mother had been... well, his rock in a lot of ways. She’d always been comforting and encouraging. Nakia had had that motherly feel to her, even if she’d been in the devil position as doctor.

... Why was it that when Jesse wanted to be petulant, annoyed, and yes, a bit childish, Vincent always managed to turn it around? It made him want to storm off in a huff, but he didn’t. Curiosity still held him rooted. “Yeah. Well. Whatever.” Clement accused him of using that word too much, but he didn’t care.

The moment the journal reappeared, Jesse snatched it with little more force than necessary, tucking it against his chest. He might not have liked what was contained in it, but it was his. ... And now Vincent’s, too. Sort of. He was just glad to have it back. “I already told you, I didn’t think you’d want me back.” It had nothing to do with avoidance tactics in order to keep away from taking responsibility for his temper and dealing with what it had done. Namely, face whatever Vincent had to say about the journal’s entries. He was sure Sean would have things to say about it too, but the psychiatrist had the advantage of telepathy. He’d probably already seen quite a bit of what was contained inside. As for the subject of wanting to be understand, Jesse’s steps faltered slightly. “Yes. ... No. I don’t know, okay? I was pissed, and that was the only way I thought you’d get it.” What ‘it’ was, he didn’t elaborate on. He simply hugged the journal tighter and pitched the butt of his cigarette into the snow along the path.

[Vincent Meian]

The brushing off of his reasoning almost made the trainer smile. Almost. His humor would have been visible in his eyes if he hadn't been wearing tinted glass to protect them, but as it was it seemed like he just let Jesse have the last word. Why not? It wasn't as if those last words were anything more than that; words to be said last. Little meaning, other than to convey petulance.

Not that he expected much more from his student at the moment, but it was still amusing regardless.

Book removed from his hand, Vincent zipped up and buttoned his coat again, then tucked his hand back into his pocket as if nothing was the matter. The journal was something private, personal; the snatching back was expected just as much as the fact that the blonde held it so close. Close enough that it appeared that he was trying to force it into his rib cage through the skin and bone. "I have told you that I do not abandon my students," he countered. "Perhaps now you will believe me."

Unlikely, but it was a step.

"i understand that you have nightmares," he answered, keeping his voice soft enough that it wouldn't carry across the empty landscape but loud enough to be heard by the boy over their crunching footsteps. "Frequently, if those dates are correct. I understand that a number of them concern your mentor, or your time away from the school. Some concern your father, some focus on your sister. Some of them pain you. All of them, I have seen, scare you."

He was not trying to be hurtful, nor sarcastic. His tone was actually surprisingly level and, in a way, empathetic. Nightmares were something Vincent knew. Intimately. He would not taunt a student for having them, no matter what it concerned. "This is not something to be ashamed of, nor must you seek help for it if you do not want. From my own experience, however, I would suggest speaking with someone about these; they will only fester and trouble you more over time if you do not confront them."

[Jesse Adams]

Jesse very nearly scoffed at the idea of abandonment. If parents could do it, why couldn’t trainers? It wasn’t like they were attached at the hip, or bonded by blood or anything. He’d seen it before. Trainers moved students around all the time. What made Vincent so special? “Yeah, well, we’ll see about that.” He could be a great deal more caustic than he was currently being, and he honestly didn’t expect Vincent to endure it.

No, of course he wasn’t purposely trying to push him away. That would be crazy.

He kept the journal hugged close, not caring that his fingers were chilly. Most of him wanted to shut out Vincent and just finish the walk in silence. It probably wasn’t going to be the way of it, but he could wish.

When Vincent finally did speak, Jesse actually stumbled before righting himself. Well, there it was. Out in the open. While it was something he supposed should be shared with his trainer, being that they were side effects, but... they were private. And had plagued him for so long that he didn’t want to deal with anyone about it. Instead of replying, he simply ground his teeth into his lip, finding the dent he had put in his lip ring long ago from just such a practice.

Vincent seemed to know what the hell he was talking about. That was... that was weird. It wasn’t even in a clinical way, like with Dr. Neville. It was just... accurate. He frowned, working his teeth back and forth on the ring as they walked. Finally, he sighed, shoulders dropping. “Yeah, they scare me. So what? They’re just dreams. They can’t hurt me.” Which wasn’t really true. He’d managed to hurt himself multiple times flailing around in his sleep. “What do you know about it anyway?” As for talking, well, he’d spoken to Dr Neville on occasion, and was considering medication to deal with them. “I talk to Dr Neville about them, but it doesn’t help. They’re still... there.” And just like that, despite all the headbutting he had done, he was actually starting to open up. If for no other reason other than he was getting tired of butting heads.