jinx

i love how caitvi isn’t loud about it.

it’s not grand speeches or dramatic confessions every five minutes, it’s in the quiet things. in the way vi stands just a little closer than necessary, like she’s positioning herself between caitlyn and anything that could possibly hurt her. in how caitlyn notices (always notices) and never calls it out, just lets it happen, lets vi care in the only way she knows how.

it’s in the glances that linger a second too long, in the tension of words left unsaid because neither of them quite knows how to say it yet, not properly, not without risking something.

and still, somehow, they understand each other anyway.

caitlyn doesn’t need vi to explain every scar for her to know they exist. vi doesn’t need caitlyn to spell out her feelings to feel them in every soft look, every moment she chooses to stay.

it’s a kind of love that grows in the spaces between things. subtle, patient, a little messy, but real in a way that doesn’t need to announce itself to be felt.

and maybe that’s why it hits so hard.

because it’s quiet.

but it’s there.