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His eyes are brown; deep, dark brown, like bitter coffee or forest bark. The kind that feel like staring into the vast emptiness of space. Sometimes, when he stares into the light, there are small speckles of amber; like stars have lit up that expanse - that universe - held in his irises. Kaz Brekker’s eyes were beautiful, just like the rest of him - his sharp jawline, his angled lips, his slender shoulders, his stupid, stupid hair.
Alongside the rumours that circulated about him and the Dregs, there were whispers of something more. The small looks from girls when he passed, the gaze from the occasional man. It was barely noticeable; but, of course, Kaz noticed everything. Jesper noticed them, too. It annoyed Kaz to be fawned over; it wasn’t gang boss-like to have ladies swooning over you, but then Jesper was glad he wasn’t one such boss. He enjoyed the attention, the distraction. He would have enjoyed one specific distraction more. And he was only a few feet away from him, sharp and sleek, hands resting on his cane. He should have made Jesper uneasy in a “fearful for your life” way, not a “ why do I have butterflies ” way. But the fluttering in his stomach was a sign of so many feelings that he could never hope to word. All of them were so very, incredibly idiotic. That idiocy was something Kaz liberally commented on. It was annoying. It was, annoyingly, also very attractive, in some twisted stupid way.
Kaz must have known; there was no way he didn’t. He knew everything - saw everything. If it truly annoyed him to be fawned over, then why hadn’t he confronted Jesper? Had he wanted to protect his dignity? Jesper didn’t need to be protected, he was sure of it. What else, then? Was it not worthy of his attention? Was Jesper not worthy of his attention? A gambler, a flirt - a liability? Nothing would be accomplished by Jesper making himself angry, and the rage inside him died down almost instantly; he could not be mad at the intentions he had made up for a man who was impossible to read.
Ignorance is bliss, but he gave up being ignorant long ago. You don’t survive with ignorance. That’s something Jesper learned, and something that he was sure Kaz did, too. He can see it in his cold stare, written on the frown of his lips. He’s not ignorant, and he’s not stupid, either. Jesper wishes he was, just a little. It would make him justified in thinking Kaz can’t see; that he doesn’t know. But he does, and it makes him feel a fool. He is a fool, he thinks. For falling for the Bastard of the Barrel. Someone he can never have. Someone whom he irritates and “empties the pockets of”, though those weren’t Jesper’s own words. They rang true, though, as Kaz’s words often did. He could be harsh and cruel and unmistakably plain mean, but he was always truthful. Maybe it was that feature that made Jesper feel so idiotic. Kaz never hesitated to berate him and tell him exactly what he thought, whether it be his gambling or his flirting, which Kaz was always irritated by. It was more of an incentive to do it, for Jesper. It let him pretend it was jealousy and not exasperation. Saints, he really was a fool.
Kaz did not deserve him, and he did not deserve Kaz. That was something he knew well; sleepless nights of convincing himself. Besides, it wasn’t like him and Kaz could have had something fulfilling. Jesper was all touches and flirts, and Kaz was…well, Kaz. There wasn’t a scenario Jesper could imagine where they would be a plausible couple. Not when Kaz looked at Inej with such fire in his eyes. It was a fire of denial, burning large and bright. It made sense - Kaz probably didn’t even like boys. The thoughts didn’t stop coming, each one a piece of reason and logic that should have made Jesper stop falling before he had even started. He was stubborn, though, and they didn’t stop him from wishing the fire in Kaz’s dark eyes was for him. Maybe it was mean of him, but he truly wanted to pry. Maybe it was intrigue more than desire. He had been so encapsulated by the mystery surrounding Brekker that he had mistaken it for affection. Maybe Kaz was secretly a Heartrender, and he was tricking Jesper to make him more loyal, or something of the sort. It was silly, but he liked picturing Kaz that way. It made him less intimidating. It made him able to make fun of himself if he made fun of his stupid crush. One day, he would laugh at this. One day, he’d find someone who did not break people’s bones, or speak in riddles, or care about him beyond his skills with a gun. Because Kaz did not care for him - he couldn’t. It might have actually been beyond the guy’s ability to feel anything except greed for money, for profit. Jesper may have said that, if he were not a Dreg. He was, though. And he knew Kaz cared about one thing more than Kruge . And that thing was most certainly not him.
Kaz could not have been good for him. If nothing, the people of Ketterdam had made that clear; they labelled him as every brand of evil. He was a bastard, a devil, a demon - and Kaz revelled in each wicked title. But Jesper was sure that under it all, under the blood and the black and the irreparable damage, there was not a boy on this Saint-forsaken Earth that was more angelic; not in appearance or knowledge or power. If the bastard ever cried, which was practically an impossibility, Jesper had no doubt in his mind that liquid gold would have streamed down Kaz’s face, pooling in his dark eyes, giving each a gleam of sunshine against their black night.
No, he thought. This could not have been good for him. Jesper did not consider himself obsessive by any means, but he knew he was an addict. It came out whenever someone put cards in his hands and it most certainly came out whenever he had a crush. Something inside of him couldn’t let go until he had his fantasies fulfilled, for better or for worse. And, most damningly, Jesper knew that, somehow, he wasn’t alone. He saw Inej’s eyes whenever he passed. She held him with that same kind of forbidden desire, the hesitance of wanting him, knowing it would hurt, but wanting to go head-first anyway. He pitied her for it, and wondered if she felt the same. They were cursed, doomed together to love a man sick with anger that fuelled his tar-black soul. Jesper knew there was a softness beneath that stone exterior, but he didn’t particularly want to be the one to chisel away at him and discover it.
Jesper wanted him. Carnally, even. He desired nothing more than to see the bastard’s true nature, the vulnerability he hid beneath wool and leather and the rapping of his cane on the cobblestones. He wanted to be that special person who was let in. But he lacked one essential thing: patience. He wanted Kaz now, and now was never going to happen. Perhaps in another world, one where Jesper didn’t mind the passage of time and Kaz didn’t mind the concept of emotion, it could’ve been. But in this world, this very cruel, harsh, relentless world, it couldn’t be.
Ah well , thought Jesper. Someone else’ll come around . He sighed. Just like him to go for the untouchable, when he loves touch. Just like him to go for the mute, when he loves to talk. Just like him to go for Kaz, when Kaz wants nothing to do with him. A tale as old as time.