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It was long after midnight when she got back to the flat, and it was the sound of a blowtorch that alerted Georgie to the fact that Jon was still awake. She peered through the open bedroom door and scowled.
"Jon? What are you doing?"
It was obvious. Jon sat cross-legged on their shared bed with a blowtorch in one hand and a small glass smoking apparatus in the other. He looked up at her, then back down at where he was carefully heating up the rig's metal nail. "What does it look like?"
"You're smoking weed again? I thought you'd quit."
"I had," Jon said matter-of-factly. "I got this stuff from Tim, in records. He kindly suggested that it might get me to 'lighten the fuck up a little,' but somehow I doubt it will work."
Georgie sighed and crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "What am I going to do with you, Jon? You're miserable at that job. Why don't you just quit?"
Jon shrugged and clicked the torch off, dropping a glob of cannabis concentrate onto the hot metal, where it sizzled and melted into vapor, which he inhaled. Upon exhaling for a long and over-dramatic amount of time, Jon answered. "You want me out of here, and I'll have to pay rent anywhere I go. What else would I do?"
"Oh, I don't know–– anything?” Georgie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You're bored out of your mind over there."
"Where’s your English work ethic, Georgie?" he said wryly. "Besides, I smell a big promotion coming!"
"Oh, what? The Archivist woman?" Georgie scoffed. "Banking on her croaking, are we?"
"Seems likely enough." Jon offered Georgie a crooked smile.
"You're mental, you know that?"
"Relax." Jon shook his head. "I was only joking anyway. Besides, why would they hire me? Sasha's far more qualified. Hell, even Tim."
"Now, now…" Georgie shook her head and sat on the side of the bed, putting her hand on Jon's shoulder. "Don't get carried away talking nonsense."
That crooked smile had faded, but there was a hint of a genuine one now. He had such beauty to him, even when he was melancholy. Sometimes Georgie worried about that melancholy; after all, it was what had driven them to break up in the first place, but it was the beauty that truly concerned her. Right now, he was more than a tad stoned, and she had no idea how to read the pitiful look he gave her, but any expression looked good on him… why did he look so good?
"Thank you, Georgie," Jon started, "for being here for me. I––"
Georgie pushed Jon by the shoulders, slowly until his back hit the wall, and kissed him on the lips. He froze and recoiled, pushing her away.
"Georgie, what the fuck?" Jon sputtered, wrapping his arms around himself.
"I- I'm sorry, Jon, I––"
"You know I don't––"
"I wasn't!" Georgie insisted, but Jon's posture remained closed off. Her tone softened and she looked at him fondly. "I wasn't…"
Jon shifted his position and picked at his fingernails, but didn't look at her. Georgie sighed.
"Listen, Jon. I'm sorry. I just... I had a pretty lousy date tonight, and well... I'm lonely. It was stupid of me, really."
Instead of forgiveness, Jon had only thorns. They pierced her with his gaze as well as his words. "Just because I only fucked you when I was stoned before, doesn't mean I'll do it now."
"Jesus, Jon!" Georgie stood up from the bed and rubbed her forehead, pacing back and forth. "What the fuck are you implying? I only wanted to kiss you!”
"I'm sorry, alright?" Jon exhaled. "I panicked! I just... I don't want to do that anymore either."
Georgie's eyes betrayed her hurt. "So, what? Did you hate it when we kissed before? Did you hate it every time, then?"
"No, Georgie, of course not, but..." Jon looked away. "That was before. We were... dating."
Georgie could only shake her head. She should have known he would reject her. After all, she was the one who had ended their relationship. She was the one who knew she needed something out of a relationship that Jonathan Sims simply could not give. So why, then, was she crawling back to him now?
The answer lay in her bed, lighting up another dab. He inhaled, fell flat on his back and exhaled vapor up at the ceiling. Georgie looked at him for a moment, and he only stared up into space.
"Jon?"
"What."
"You need to move out."
"I know."
"For real."
Jon sighed, closed his eyes, and covered them with his hands.
"I know."