#jacekhouri

Barely a week in town, and he’d already sent someone to the hospital. Typical. The only thing that stopped Roslan from moving out entirely to save himself the embarrassment of having to look Jace in the eye again was guilt. Footing the bill didn’t seem enough; Roslan hadn’t been able to gauge exactly how injured Jace was, which led him to the present: six doors down a street that someone had pointed him towards, where someone named Jace supposedly lived, except Roslan’s cheeks and knuckles were a distinct shade of red from the cold and he still had yet to find him. The paper cup of coffee in Ro’s hand, meant to be a late apology offering, had long gone cold. Things really could be going better.

He eyed the next door wearily, scuffing his knuckles across his jacket. He’d never hurt his hand over knocking too much before. “Hey, hello?” he called, tapping against the door with an open hand instead, unintentionally knocking a touch too loud. “Is-- Does Jace live here?” Might’ve helped if Ro had at least remembered his last name.

💖- A memory that made them feel special

“Gomo,” a voice called out, although Yejin’s attention never strayed from the paper before her. It had been over an hour since she began, and what was once a blank expanse was now filled with dots of varying sizes, a makeshift flower formed at the center. The tip of her pen was at the end of one leaf when a small hand suddenly blocked her view. “Gomo.”

She finally tilted her chin up and met her nephew’s eyes. “Yes?”

“This is really pretty.” 

Yejin’s brow rose as she looked down to see him pointing at her work. Her mouth dropped open, then, but no words came out. What was the proper thing to say? No one else had ever paid attention to the ‘silly little pictures’ that she doodled everywhere— much less made any commentary on them. The rush in her stomach provided no answers. Tilting her head to one side, she hummed a quiet acknowledgment.

“You’re very good,” the young child continued, pressing a finger down on the picture and dragging it as though he were feeling the shape of the petals. “Is this your job?”

“Ahm… N—No…” Yejin shook her head slowly, suppressing the small, ‘I wish it were’ at the back of her throat.

“You should be a drawer.”

The corners of her lips curled up at the declaration. Underneath the warmth of her expression was the wish that she could have believed the words as firmly as he spoke them. That, however, was a matter for another time. She could certainly revel in the sense of accomplishment coursing through her veins.

Reaching for another white sheet with one hand, she used the other to pick up a second pen and offer it to the boy. “Let’s be drawers together.”

The walk had been too peaceful, Saraya thought as she ran off after her toddler. One second she’d had Emilio’s little hand in hers. The next, he’d wriggled free and was running down the pathway in the park. Unlike his mother, who was bogged down with toys and bags because a trip to the park was never a simple thing anymore, Emilio was quick on his tiny feet. “Hey,” Saraya called out to the person just down the path from Emilio. “Can you stop that kid?” After a few seconds, she added, “but don’t grab him. Just sort of box him off and maybe he’ll come back this way.” 

“Tonight was one of the best nights I’ve had in a while. But. We’ve been together for practically the entire past two days,” he teased, his nose bumping against Jace’s slightly as he pulled away, “so I need to know when and how you had the time to rehearse that little show, or whether you’ve had it saved up all along.” Because singing like that, Roslan was convinced, did not just happen spontaneously, and Jace seemed the type to do either one. (Roslan had never dated, much less befriended, anyone that -- what was the word, conspicuous? -- before, but on Jace, it was endearing.) (But on Jace, a lot of things were endearing.)