Oct. 5th, 2025 10:53 pm
no_voice: (Default)
Voicemail and text messages for Jason McConnell.


Oct. 5th, 2025 10:52 pm
no_voice: (Default)
Mailbox and e-mail for Jason McConnell at #18 Ocean View Apartments.
no_voice: (Golden Boy)
School has started and Jason isn't in school.

It's an odd feeling; a mixture of relief and bittersweet sadness. He would like to be in school; even though Darrow only has a limited option of schools to choose from, the fact that he could attend another school besides Notre Dame proves exciting enough. Peter, he knows, is in college. The prospect of running into him in classes and hallways makes Jason ache even as much as the image warms him.

For the time being, he's content to focus on work, he supposes. He might take some preliminary courses at the community college before applying for Barton's spring semester, though. He can't decide if he has the courage to go through with it or not; it's a big deal for him, no matter what he decides.

Tonight, Jason is looking for a chance to simply relax outside of work. He doesn't have homework to worry about, which is another plus side to being out of school, he supposes.

So he winds up at a local pub, nursing a beer at the bar as he watches the kaoroke night unfold. He's seen some interesting performances so far, many downright terrible, but he's entertained. Secretly, he wishes Peter were here to egg him on into attempting a song himself. As it is, he's too sober and too reserved to make an attempt himself.

So Jason sits back, watches, and drinks.
no_voice: (Dashing Romeo)
Jason falls into a sort of routine, now that the shock of finding himself in Darrow has settled, a bit. He wakes up, eats breakfast, gets dressed, and heads out of his apartment. He tries to avoid being inside his apartment as much as he can. And not just because he is somewhat avoiding Peter, either. He feels trapped inside that building; caught between the ended life he left behind and the life he previously established here in Darrow, apparently.

So he goes out. He goes for his morning run, thrilling in the way each breath aches inside his chest and each dreaded thought falls apart to the beat of his music. He always lingers at the beach, drawing a strange comfort from how humble the waves crashing against the shore make him feel.

He stops for a coffee; he lets himself unwind from his exertion. He lets himself have a ridiculous, cream-filled pastry as a snack and reads whatever newspaper or book he’s brought with him. He doesn’t have a particular café that appeals to him; he likes the variety of stopping at a different place every time.

He wanders, mostly, after that. Sometimes, he shops. In his first days in Darrow, Jason immediately set out to finding new clothes; his funereal suit he keeps buried in the back of his closet, stuffed away like some old ragdoll. He shops for groceries once or twice a week, usually just little trips to catch up on what he needs. Sometimes, if he feels indulgent, he shops for a book or two. Last week, he bought himself a volume of Keats.

Today, however, Jason heads back to his apartment after his stop at a café. He changes into the nicest clothes he currently has on hand, a pair of dress pants and a simple dress shirt, complete with functional tie, which he can just barely tie. He steps into his oxfords and grabs the resume he hurriedly typed up the previous night. He leaves the apartment for the second time that day.

He goes for three interviews, nearly in a row. One is for an unpaid internship, which, while it would look appealing on his resume, won’t do Jason much good in the way of extra cash. The next two are for actual jobs. However, at the very beginning of both interviews, Jason realizes that he lacks the experience for both jobs. Discouraged though he is afterwards, Jason still goes out of his way to stop and apply at three more places before the afternoon is out.

Jason sighs as he makes his way into his apartment, falling back against the door as it swings shut. He brings his hands up to rub his head, feeling defeated. He can’t give up, he reminds himself internally. He has to be strong for Peter. He also finds that, although he doesn’t know Magnus, he doesn’t want to let him down, either.

Letting out a sigh, Jason makes himself a cheap, microwave supper and grabs an even cheaper beer from the fridge, settling down in front of the television in the living room. Tomorrow is another day, he supposes.

Before he begins to eat, however, Jason pulls out his cellphone. He types out a message, a simple inquiry, really, before shooting it off to Peter. He tries to text him at least once a day, even if they don’t see each other. He wants him to know he’s here, even if it’s hard on both of them right now. A gesture of support, really.

That done, Jason takes a swig of beer and digs into his overly greasy food. Another day down.
no_voice: (bare)
Jason works harder than most of the rest of Saint Cecilia's campus. He knows this for a fact. Coming as he does from a poor family, he nearly broke himself just trying to secure the scholarship money to be able to attend such a prestigious institution. Not to mention his parents, working tooth and nail just to keep the roof over their humble abode back in Maine. So Jason works, and he works hard. He stays in when the rest of the student body parties; he pours himself into his homework and into his appearance, working to give himself the same appearance of the students born into Saint Cecilia's legacy.

Nadia coming out just before they returned to school for their senior year has done nothing for Jason's courage. Even as understanding as his parents had been towards Nadia, he knows he can't expect that same treatment for his own sexuality. Not when Nadia is the golden daughter, and every time Jason takes a step out of line, he brings down fire and brimstone upon himself.

He grits his teeth, trying to concentrate on his history paper. His parents expect more from him, when they take the time to remember that he exists. They would never understand how they could possibly have two gay children. The perfect daughter, they can make allowances for, even as strict Catholics. The invisible son, well. He only has so much room that they can spare for him.

He sighs as his head falls in frustration on top of his essay. He's been in love with Peter ever since they'd moved in together as roommates. He just wishes he had the nerve to tell him.
no_voice: (bare)
Jason has just punched out of his shift and is walking towards the exit to head home when he catches sight of the newest addition to the adoption center. His heart pounds in his chest, which feels like it might sink from the weight of how helpless the kitten looks.

The kitten mews.

The next thing Jason knows, he's filling out paperwork and handing over a portion of the paycheck he just recently cashed; he's receiving one of their special discount booklets for customers adopting new pets, and he's holding a carrier with the most precious cargo inside.

He makes his way back through the store, his managers and coworkers trying hard not to laugh at him and failing. He grabs everything he thinks he needs, making a mental note to make an appointment with the vet as soon as possible. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks he should call or text Peter. But he isn't exactly thinking rationally at the moment; the cat, a female without a name yet, is mewing at him from the carrier and his other arm aches carrying the rest of what he needs.

He checks out and makes it home without any complications, other than several people asking to see his new kitten, which he happily obliges.

He pauses in front of his own door, the reality of what he's just done hitting him at last.

"Shit," he tells his new companion, as he turns the door and nudges his way inside.
no_voice: (Lost boy)
Jason wakes up in the godforsaken hours of the early morning, right around three o'clock. His chest feels tight; all of a sudden, his body can't decide if it's too hot or too cold. He shifts, trying not to wake up Peter. He lets one leg dangle from beneath the blankets and brings the other up close, praying desperately that the shift in position will allow him to fall back to sleep. Today is his day off, and he would like to spend a fair amount of time of it sleeping.

No such luck. He tosses and turns as quietly as he can for about another half-hour. That's when the tightening in his chest trembles, and Jason feels his stomach drop. Sweat coats his body, plastering him to the sheets. Jason knows what's about to happen; he knows, and he starts praying desperately in his head for it not to happen.

"Shit," he mutters to himself as his feet hit the carpet of his bedroom. He doesn't get the chance to check if he's woken Peter up or not; he stumbles, a little dizzy, from the bed. He only just makes it to the bathroom in time, where he proceeds to worship the porcelain altar of the toilet, very much reluctantly. His chest heaves as he grips the side of the toilet, focusing on keeping his balance and hopefully not losing everything in his stomach.

He slides down on the floor after he finishes and flushes, wiping his mouth with a piece of toilet paper and throwing it away. He groans and curls in on himself, a little bit. God, but he cannot remember the last time he's been this ill. It has to have been that one October afternoon senior year. He'd been holed up in the infirmary for a week.

God, he hopes this bug doesn't last that long. He prays.
no_voice: (Romeo)
After a morning shift which passed surprisingly fast, Jason has Sunday afternoon off and to himself. He thinks Peter is either working or out with a friend, for he isn't in the apartment when Jason returns. With a yawn, Jason quickly shoots off a text asking Peter if he wants to chill out for a quiet afternoon date watching whatever catches their eye on Netflix, truly one of the most brilliant inventions of the past few years. Jason doesn't know how to live in a time before Netflix, anymore. He's lost more afternoons than he can count to marathoning shows with Peter he'd never have dared consider back at school.

The text sent, Jason moves into the bathroom for a shower. He lingers, letting the hot water sink into his skin as he rubs his guilty pleasure soap - Bath & Bodyworks' Winter Candy Apple - into his skin and lathers his shampoo that smells like lilac into his hair. He runs out of hot water by the time he does step out of the shower; he dries off quickly, and changes into a pair of somewhat nice sweatpants, colored a deep gray to bring out the blue in his eyes and fitting his body quite nicely. He doesn't bother with a shirt; he brushes his hair and moves to flop lazily down on the couch.

For as much as tries to tell himself that he wants a stereotypically lazy afternoon date, Jason also really wants Peter in his arms, squirming underneath him as they kiss each other senseless, among other, less refined things. He flips to Love, Actually, keeping the noise near mute as he waits for Peter to get back. He settles into the couch, resting his head on one arm as the other dangles listlessly off the side of the sofa. His eyes flutter as his body decides for him that he can possibly doze off for a minute or two.
no_voice: (Romeo)
There is so much to learn about living on one's own, it almost overwhelms Jason. The idea of his own apartment seemed so exciting, at first; like a brand new adventure, and like Jason had actually made it to adulthood. The thrill of having his own space to call his own, and for, apparently, obtaining another shot at living, wore off faster than the terror and anxiety of finding himself in a world without Peter. The first time he glanced in the refrigerator, Jason realized, with dawning dread, that he would have to fend for himself in terms of food. So much for the shiny glow of having his own place for the first time in his life.

His apartment also shows the notable signs of someone who grew up with other people to clean after him; the clothes he'd hurriedly purchased after arriving in his Romeo costume strewn all across the floor, along with the costume itself and all of the props that had come with said costume. Jason's shoes rest on one of the side tables, and several, used glasses take up space on the counter, table, and couch in the living area. In short, Jason's apartment tells its own kind of horror story.

At least trying to figure out how to be on his own distracts Jason somewhat from the perpetual ache in his heart and thoughts. He still dreams of Peter and Saint Cecilia's; he pictures that performance with every detail vivid in his mind, and he usually has to go lie down somewhere to be able to recover from the sudden weight of those images.

Today, he's low on what he considers the basic staples of food: microwavable, packaged meals, cookies, popcorn, Lean Pockets, Slim Jims, and all of the other crap he used to sneak between meals as a 'growing, hungry boy.' Nadia would mock him for his selection; Peter would look on at him in horror. He can see the exact look on Peter's face, too. He snorts, picturing those wide, green eyes wincing and nose wrinkling at the prospect of Jason's groceries.

But of course, by virtue of thinking of Peter, Jason's brief happiness fades into sadness once again. He finds himself so distracted as he enters his apartment building, he nearly collides with another of the tenants.

"Whoa, sorry about that," he says before he has the chance to see who it is he's nearly bowled over.
no_voice: (So pure)
Jason still doesn't know what to make of Darrow. He has his Welcome Packet, so to speak; a lot like the Orientation Packet at Saint Cecilia's, only with actual money, and a new phone unlike any he's ever seen before. He has keys to his own apartment, which also strikes him as odd and out of place. He's only recently a legal adult; how can anyone see fit to entrust him to his own place?

He crashed that first night with Noah, which was a relief, all things considered. He would have, most likely, attempted some kind of escape if he'd wound up sleeping alone. Especially after everything that happened.

He has all the makings of a new life here, Jason thinks. But he cannot reach out to those he left behind. His parents, Nadia, his friends - Peter. They are all in their own existence, believing him dead and moving on without them. And so he has to try and move on without them too.

Currently, he's throwing himself into exercise to distract himself. Ocean View Apartments, being located rather close to the beach, provides a perfect route for running. Jason, barely sleeping, wakes up mere hours after putting his head against his pillows to run while the sun is still in the process of rising. The aching of his muscles doesn't eliminate the pain and sorrow he's left behind, but it does make it easier for Jason to breathe. At least, for a little while.

He's coming home from one of these runs now, sweat soaking through his shorts and wife beater; even through his running shoes. He's ready to hurl himself into a shower when he reaches the front entrance. Which is when, of course, he realizes one very fundamental truth: he left his keys on the counter.

"Son of a bitch!" He curses, moving to lean against one of the railings by the door and hoping desperately that some kind soul or other will eventually come by to open the door.
no_voice: (Default)
Jason arrives to St. Cecilia's feeling both as though he's about to take flight and he's about to sink into empty air with only the cold, cruel autumn ground to break his fall. He breathes in the oppressive humidity of the late August day as though he might steal some of the summer sun to keep himself warm on the inside. His senior year, finally. Everything comes down to this. All of those 'encouraging' family talks and hollow laughter about how he'll make the family proud and burn brightly on at Notre Dame. All of those discussions about how he'll meet his future wife and provide his parents with grandchildren soon enough.

He shakes his head, taking a stuttering breath to calm himself. He's only just arrived. No need to let the pressure of everything build quite that high up just yet.

His parents offered to help him unpack; he waved them off with the smile he'd gotten so good at faking, gently hinting that perhaps their assistance would be better off with Nadia, who rolled her eyes, but offered him an actual smile all the same.

His family ought to have left by now. He hopes. Regardless, with one last exhale, he's on his way back to his room. He needs to see Peter more than anything. He's the only person Jason wants to see in this moment; he's the only one who will understand.

But of course, he's Jason McConnell, and making his way back to his own room is never that simple. He winds up chatting with Matt for a few minutes, before gaggles of girls try and worm his number out of him. He endures about ten minute of it before excusing himself, nearly running to his room where, hopefully, he'll find Peter.
no_voice: (Jason)
Jason McConnell, 18, is one of the principal characters in the musical, Bare. He's a senior at St. Cecelia's, a Catholic boarding school, and struggling with his sexuality. He's arriving after suffering from a breakup with his boyfriend, Peter, and overdosing on GHB.

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