High for this ﾒ𝟶

The screeching of the truck slowly died away as it pulled out of the sloped driveway. You watched through a front window as the U-haul was driven away, the view slightly obscured by the rain droplets that raced down the window. You watched quietly, the faint typing of your mothers keyboard turning into a soothing background noise; you watched as they swam down, pretending they were racing. Boxes that smelled like dust and your old house were stacked around your new home, you had just moved into your new house. It was a flowery pink on the outside, but the inside almost felt grey, a restless feeling of boredom expanded throughout your body as you looked around. 

You didn't wanna move. You had friends, a nice school, a life, but your father got a new job 2 states away. So now here you are. 

The house was old, a 100 years from what your dad said. You didn't know if he was bullshitting or if this house was as old as he said, it felt like it, as soon as you walked in you noticed how the house seemed to creak with life. You were so incredibly bored. Everything you owned was trapped neatly in brown boxes. 

“Mom, can I go outside?”

You chirped quietly, your mother didn't even look up from her computer as she responded.

“No. It's raining, you'll track mud in the house.”

You frowned, looking down at the tile floor of the kitchen. There already was mud everywhere from the movers feet. You placed your foot next to a foot print, comparing the sizes of one of the movers shoes to your own. 

“Please? I'll clean it up!”

“No.” You frown deepened at her firm tone. You huffed loudly and straightened your back, deciding to go bother your dad instead. 

You pranced through the halls, humming a tune to yourself as you wandered the house. The hallways were big, and loomed over you. It was a blue-grey, and devoid of life. You wondered how anyone could ever enjoy living here, you felt like you were turning as grey as the walls, melting into the same muted shade everything else was. You knew as soon as your father got paid, you would beg him for new decorations, anything full of color to put in your room. 

You creaked the door to the office open, watching as your dad scribbled on some paperwork.

“Hi dad.”

You mumbled shortly, climbing onto a box and sitting down. 

“Hey kiddo.”

Your father said, glancing over at you. He was a tall man, his skin dark and his hair short and black. He always smelled like alcohol and something that was faintly sandalwood, something you had grown fond of. Your father was a good man, despite what your mother said. Your mother was a bitter, salty woman, but maybe she spoke some truth, you chose ignore how he often was passed out drunk on his chair, head lolled back with the bottle slipping out of his finger tips. 

“Im so bored.”

He rolled your eyes at your whining, turning in his chair, brown eyes flickering over you. 

“Go explore, this house is old, its probably got plenty of secrets. Write down interesting things you see.”

His rough voice lacked any enthusiasm. You groaned loudly. 

“This house is stinky.”

“Light a candle then.”

You shook your head, grabbing a small notepad off his desk, clicking the end of the pen. You walked out of his office, clicking the door shut, starting to wander around. 

The wallpaper was mostly even, aside from a few tears. There was a carpet that wouldn't stay flat no matter how many times you jumped on the hills. You flicked in the light to a bathroom, the tiles of the shower were the same floral pink as the outside, but somehow it was just as grey as everything else. Bugs scrambled away to hide, and you watched with disgust.

“Yuck.” You mumbled, turning off the light and closing the door. 

You walked away, sighing sadly. You entered a room by the kitchen, adjacent to the living room. A fireplace, unused and old sat inside one of the walls. A big painting that the last owner forgot hung above. You stared at it, taking in the stroked of blurry paint, it was a portrait of a young boy, his chubby body squished into his uniform. 

“Do you know anything fun to do?”

You asked. No reply. He doesn't make very good conversation.

 Your hands dragged a heavy box out of the corner, opening it to take out some of the decorations. You unwrapped the snow globes, peeling the paper off and looking at it. It was of a zoo your mother had went to when she was your age. She must've been so happy. Your mind drifted off to what she must've been like before she had you. Was she happier? You shook the thought away and set it above the fireplace.

The creak of a door caught your attention, and you turned slowly. A closet door slowly opened, and you tensed. You gulped, hesitating before curiosity got the best of you and you opened it fully. 

Nothing exciting, much to your disappointment. Just more boxes. So many boxes. You were about to shut the door when you saw a doll sitting hidden away on a shelf. Your head tilted curiously and you reached to get it. 

An old plush doll that smelled like dust and something sweet, blue yarn hair decorated in long braids. Her vibrant pink button eyes staring back at you.

“Pretty.” You murmured at the doll, messing with its hair. You held it close, excited to finally find a friend. Even if she was made out of cotton. 

From where you were standing you could see what almost looked like a small doorway hidden under a flattened up box. You hummed, walking over and dropping down to move the box. 

It was in fact a small door, sealed off by the thin wallpaper. Your fingers grazed the lock, there was no handle, the key hole was filled, it was sealed away, hidden away. 

“Mom! What's behind this door?”

You yelled, turning and looking towards the kitchen. 

“What?”

“Come see!” you waited, hearing your mother groan and the chair screech. Her footsteps got closer as she approached, her eyebrows raised as she walked into the room and looked at where you were sitting. Her eyes flicked between you and the door. 

“I wanna open it.” 

“It's probably nothing.”

“Please?”

Your mom narrowed her eyes at your begging. She huffed loudly, before pointing a finger at you sternly.

“You'll leave me alone if I do this for you?”

You nodded quickly, pouting your lip out and putting your hands together in a pleading motion. Your mom sighed before turning and walking away, her footsteps slamming against the tile with unnecessary force. You frowned, she was always so grumpy. 

Eventually she came back with some strange, thin black key, it looked like a button at the handle. You watched eagerly as she used the edge to cut along the crease of the door, then unlocked it. 

It opened with a creak, and your smile immediately fell. 

“Bricks!? Seriously?”

You whined, looking between the empty doorway; which was bricked up. You touched the bricks, they felt dusty and old. Your mother sighed, and held the door open, giving you a moment to look before she shut it. 

“They must've blocked it when they separated the houses.”

She stood up, sighing deeply. Your mother crossed her arms and shot you an irritated look.

“Now stop messing with it.”

She said sternly before turning on her heels and walking away, back down the hall and to the kitchen. You groaned and flopped down onto the cold, wooden floor of the spare room. You looked at the fabric doll in your hand, the teal yarn of her hair was twisted into 2 braids, her magenta button eyes sewed in with blue thread. You hummed, lifting it above your head and looking at it. 

“Moms in such a mean mood.”

You mumbled to the doll as you rolled and pulled yourself up, deciding to go wander around the house some more, and hopefully have more fun now that you had a friend. 

.

.

.

“Stop messing with it.” Your mothers words echoed in your head as you quietly stepped down the stairs, holding the doll tightly. Your mother had just left, as usual. She waited until your father was passed out drunk in his chair before she got dolled up and left, she  was out till early in the morning. Not that you cared, especially not tonight. 

You creeped down the stairs slowly, your feet creating small creaks in the old wooden floor. You could hear the faint echo of the TV as you reached the bottom steps. You pretended you were one of the mice your mother talked about, quietly skittering down the hallway to the main living room. You peaked around the corner of the living room archway, your father was snoring in his recliner, a couple cans sat on the floor next to him. The smell of cigarettes lingered, like he had put one out not too long ago. The slightly earthy tobacco scent made your nose scrunch. 

A frown tugged at your lips but you shook it off. This wasn't anything new. You turned and made your way to the unused room where the little door sat, turning corners and watching as archways grew larger the closer you got. 

“Let's go on an adventure.” 

You whispered to the little doll before holding it tightly to your chest. You creeped closer, your heart pounding in your ears. Your fingertips shook with anxiety as you moved the box once more, feeling a strange sense of deja vu. You had snatched the key before you went to bed, and now you could use it. You dug through your pocket, the cold metal shocking you a little. After fiddling with the lock for a moment the door clicked open, and you hesitated; it's just bricks? Why should you disobey your mother, even when you know what's behind? You could feel your jump into your throat, but you swung the door open, snapping your eyes shut in fear of what you might find.

When the door hit the wall with a heavy thunk you opened your eyes slowly. 

The once bricked up wall was now a tunnel, a tube that almost looked like felt and velvet, sewn together. It smelled and breathed with life, and a low gust of wind blew in your face. You stared in a mix of shock and awe, eyebrows raised as you just sat for a moment. The tunnel swirled with shades of blue and purple, and it looked like every time it breathed open, a light pink glow illuminated the space. You could see another, almost identical door say ajar at the end of the tunnel. You took a big breath and crawled inside. 

The tunnel fell at your weight, it was slightly springy, like pushing down on a trampoline. You crawled through, climbing over small bumps and folds. It smelled slightly sweet, like the bakery near your house. You were about halfway through when you paused, furrowing your brows and squinting. 

Someone was tinkering with something in the room where the door seemed to sit. Her figure hunched up, you could hear the small tink tink of metal being toyed with, little screws dropping onto the floor. You blinked, and took another step, the tunnel creaked slightly and the girl on the other side paused, she whipped around; her long braids moved like snakes as she turned to face you. Her eyes widened, and even though it was quite dark you could see how vibrant and pink they were. 

You must've spooked her, because she quickly shut the door, the wooden frame whined with the force of the slam. You gasped in surprise and jolted back. The once vibrant colors of the tunnel started to dim and you quickly grew scared. You hurried your way out, panting slightly as your hands met the cool floor of your spare room. You fumbled with the door, shutting it just as hard as she did and locking it. You stared at the door for only a few seconds before scrambling up and running back to your room. 

You shut your door a little too roughly, and threw yourself under your covers. You had ran so quickly you forgot to grab your doll. You felt bad but were too scared to go back down. You'd get it in the morning, when your mother was home. 

you were carrying balloons into the main room, powder walking beside you, her hands were filled with cake boxes.

"you think we'll get in trouble for this?"

"doubt it," she replied, shaking her head. "dad and dad are out of town. no way they find out about this party."

you hummed in acknowledgement, setting the bag of balloons down on the coffee table and started blowing one up.

the sound of a car door shutting outside had you both glancing at each other. the party was still in its early preparation and guests weren't supposed to arrive until a few hours later.

powder raised an eyebrow. "who the hell could that be?"

you shrugged and stood up from the couch, heading over to the window to see what was going on.

it was a car you've never seen before. it was definitely an expensive one; black and shiny. the windows were tinted, so you couldn't even see the driver sitting inside, until you realized.

"no fuckin— powder," you called her, motioning for her to approach the window. "is that violet? why didn't you tell me she was coming to zaun?"

violet is five years older than you, after juvie she surprised everyone by getting a job at the enforcement department of piltover. oh, and she's engaged to piltover's counselor's daughter, caitlyn.

powder was at your side in a second, standing on her tiptoes to get a better look at the car parked on the driveway.

she shook her head.

"i didn't know," she replied in a hushed voice, sounding as surprised as you were. "but that's definitely her."

"damn..." you sighed when you saw the driver get down of the car. violet's got taste, caitlyn is too hot to be real.

you received a little slap on your arms. "stop it," she scolded, shooting you a disapproving look. "she's engaged, idiot."

"can't hurt to look."

powder rolled her eyes, but didn't get a chance to reply because the doorbell rang at that moment.

"i'll get it!" powder said before you could even offer, and darted into the hall.

you leaned against the window frame, arms crossed over your chest. you could see violet and caitlyn standing on the porch; caitlyn was holding a fancy gift box. powder greeting them enthusiastically, but your attention was mostly on caitlyn. she was definitely more beautiful in person, slim waist, curvy figure and long legs.

you let your eyes travel slowly from her long ponytail to her slim neck, all the way down to the sharp heels she was wearing.

you were practically checking her out... until you heard powder's unamused voice from the hall.

"stop drooling."

you quickly looked away from the window, just in time to see powder and the two women coming into the room. you pretended to be suddenly very interested in the balloons on the table, but you could feel powder side-eyeing me.

she was starting to pout, so you're quick to wrap your arms around her waist from the side.

"don't worry sugar, it's your window i'm crawling into every night." you said too sweetly.

she elbowed you gently, trying to hold back a smile. caitlyn and violet tried to hide their grins at the playful banter between you and powder, but it was obvious they were amused.

"anyways." powder cleared her throat, gently removing herself from your arms as if just remembering they had company. she approached caitlyn and violet with a smile. "it's so nice to see you guys. are you staying for the party tonight?"

"we wouldn't miss it for the world," violet replied, hugging powder tightly.

caitlyn smiled warmly. "we brought you a little something." she held the gift box, offering it to powder.

"oh, guys, you didn't have to." powder took the box carefully, her eyes lighting up at the golden bow wrapped around it.

"open it!" you urged, curious to see what they got.

powder laughed, shaking her head at my impatience. with nimble fingers, she pulled the ribbon and lifted the lid. you peered over her shoulder, and your eyebrows shot up when you saw the elegant golden watch sitting inside.

"oh my god. it's beautiful." powder breathed, gingerly lifting the watch to admire it.

caitlyn smiled proudly. "it's a limited edition, from one of piltover's best jewellers."

"and really expensive," you muttered under my breath. violet heard you anyway, shooting you a pointed look, you shrugged sheepishly.

much to your dismay, obnoxious steps were coming down the stairs in that moment. she probably heard guests and decided to make an entrance in hopes of getting a gift too. jinx had ignored you when you asked her to help earlier.

she waltzed into the room, a lazy hand running through her messy blue hair. "is the party starting already?" she drawled, eyeing caitlyn and violet with a smirk. her eyes darted down to the gift in powder's hands, and a flicker of envy passed across her face. "what's that?" she asked nonchalantly, her fingers tapping against her thighs impatiently.

powder held up the watch for jinx to see, a proud smile on her face. "a present from cait and violet. isn't it pretty?" she gushed, ignoring jinx's sour expression.

"sure," jinx replied with a scoff, clearly unimpressed. "another gift from your favorite topside friends."

her tone was bitter, and it was no secret she didn't like caitlyn very much, she loves violet though, things just changed between them after she joined the police force.

powder's smile wavered slightly, and you could tell she was hurt by jinx's response.

violet, ever the peacekeeper, stepped forward and tried to diffuse the tension. "relax, jinx. there's enough gifts to go around."

jinx rolled her eyes, slouching against the wall. "yeah, right. it's not like i'm the last person anyone would think about when it comes to buying gifts." she mumbled sulkily.

"stop trying to make everyone pity you," you rolled my eyes, plopping down on the couch next to powder. "silco literally gave you a car and it's parked outside."

jinx crossed her arms defensively, her bottom lip jutting out in a childish pout.

"yeah, but it's not the same," she whined. "it's not like anyone actually cares enough to, i don't know, buy something special just for me."

"oh my god, spare us the martyr act, jinx." you said drily. "stop acting like you don't get showered with gifts on every occasion."

jinx bristled at the truth in your words, but before she could come up with a retort, powder intervened.

"guys, come on," she pleaded, clearly not amused by their bickering. "it's *our* birthday, remember? can we please just have one day where you two don't fight?"

you and jinx fell silent at powder's plea, both of you looking guilty for ruining the moment. the last thing you wanted was to distress her on her birthday.

you huffed quietly, nuzzling by her side in a silent apology, she patted your head affectionately.

caitlyn chose this moment to speak up, her melodic voice breaking the silence. "you know," she said lightly, glancing at jinx. "we actually *did* get something for you too."

jinx perked up at that, snapping her intense eyes away from you and powder as the sulky pout disappearing from her face instantly. she straightened up from her slouched position against the wall, her expression curious.

"you what?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing. her eagerness was blatantly obvious.

caitlyn chuckled, clearly amused by jinx's sudden change of attitude. "here." she gestured for jinx to come forward, and jinx didn't need to be told twice. she practically sprinted over to where caitlyn was standing, eyes fixed on the gift she was holding.

she snatched the box from caitlyn's hand eagerly, her fingers working quickly to undo the wrapping paper, revealing a shiny new vape pen inside the box. her eyes widened in disbelief, and her usual tough demeanor faded away for a fleeting moment.

"no way," she breathed, carefully picking up the sleek device and turning it over in her hands.

"it's one of the new models," caitlyn supplied, a smug smile on her lips. "i know how much you love those things."

powder wasn't looking too happy, her usual cheerful expression replaced by a frown. she hated jinx's vaping habit, and it was clear she wasn't thrilled about caitlyn buying her a brand new device to feed her addiction.

but she kept her mouth shut, not wanting to cause another argument.

jinx was completely oblivious to powder's displeasure, too busy admiring her new acquisition. she was already puffing on the vape like a pro, exhaling clouds of smoke with a satisfied grin.

"this is the best gift ever," she declared, looking at caitlyn with uncharacteristic gratitude.

caitlyn nodded, clearly pleased with herself. even you had to admit, it was a good choice. "glad you like it," she said, a hint of satisfaction in her tone.

you sighed loudly, "well, pow-pow and i gotta keep setting up the house. little miss here invited almost everyone in town and then pretended to be sick," you glared at jinx irresponsibility.

she had the decency to look a little sheepish as she took another drag from her new vape. "i wasn't pretending," she protested, rolling her eyes. "i just... didn't feel that well."

powder scoffed, clearly not buying her excuse.

"yeah, right," she said sarcastically. "you just didn't want to do any work."

jinx stuck her tongue out at powder, clearly unrepentant. "not my fault if i wanted to focus on being a party animal instead of playing party planner," she retorted.

"no worries," you feigned a friendly smile. "you're in charge of cleaning up the aftermath."

jinx groaned dramatically at my words, her expression one of sheer agony.

"ugh, please don't make me. that's gonna take forever!" she whined, her bottom lip jutting out in a dramatic pout.

"too bad, so sad," she said mercilessly, stifling a laugh. "you should've thought about that before playing sick and bailing on your duties."

jinx sulked, her good mood completely ruined by the thought of having to clean up after her own party.

"you're all cruel to me," she muttered, slumping back against the wall. "i'm the birthday girl, you're supposed to pamper me."

"pow-pow here ain't complaining," you smirked, hugging your best friend once again, hardly ever keeping your hands to yourself. she leaned into your touch.

"that's because i prefer to be useful instead of lounging around like a spoiled brat all day," she teased, glancing at jinx pointedly.

jinx pretended to be offended, placing a hand over her chest dramatically. "hey, i'll have you know lounging around is a full-time job. not everyone can be as annoyingly productive as you."

you snorted, not even bothering to hide your amusement. "yes, you wish sitting on your ass and vaping all day was the epitome of productivity," you deadpanned.

jinx flipped you off, her expression a mix of annoyance and mock indignation. "don't act like you're any better," she retorted. "i've seen how many hours you spend glued to your phone, scrolling through cat videos."

"sue me!" you stuck out your tongue.

violet and caitlyn ended up helping out too, unlike jinx who pretended to hang up a banner as she watched the tv.

after another hour, you were finally free to get ready. both powder and jinx loved doing makeup, but you'd rather eat pineapple pizza than let her do my eyeshadow.

you were too content with pow-pow perched up on your lap, letting her do your face as she pleased. powder was a natural at it. her hands were gentle and steady as she applied various shades of eyeshadow to your eyelids, making your eyes pop. her tongue was stuck out in concentration, her brows deeply creased as she blended the colors together.

you sat patiently, doing your best to not squirm as she worked her magic. her closeness was both comforting and slightly distracting. your hands were resting on her legs—well, more like restless, as you played with the loose strands of her denim shorts.

powder tried to swat your hands away a few times, but it was pointless. your touch was light and playful, tracing the exposed skin of her thighs.

"you're distracting me," she chided, her cheeks tinting pink as she focused on your makeup.

you smiled innocently, feigning ignorance even though you both knew what you were doing.

"i'm just keeping my hands busy," you said, your fingers dancing along her soft skin.

powder huffed, but she didn't push your hands away again.

"you're just being a pest," she muttered, her cheeks growing more flushed with every touch. she tried to focus on your makeup, but it was clear that your subtle advances were getting to her.

you could hear the party guests beginning to arrive, the distant voices and laughter growing louder by the minute. but your attention was solely on the girl perched in your lap.

"not my fault you're so soft," you hummed, squeezing lightly.

powder's breath hitched at the pressure, her body tensing momentarily before she relaxed again. she was trying to act unaffected, but you knew her too well.

"i'm going to mess up your makeup at this rate," she scolded, her voice slightly strained.

you chuckled, your grip on her thighs tightening just a fraction. you could feel the heat radiating off her skin, her body responding to your every touch.

"i don't care," you said huskily. "you can mess up my makeup all you want."

powder let out a shaky breath, her eyes darting away from your face. she was trying to keep her cool, but you could see the subtle signs of her growing desire. her lips parted slightly, her cheeks were blushing furiously, and her breathing was becoming more ragged.

but she remained composed, her hands continuing to work on your makeup despite her obvious distraction.

"there," powder said, finally setting her makeup brushes aside. "done." she slid off your lap, standing up and stepping back to admire her handiwork.

you let out an exhale, the absence of her warm weight on your thighs making you feel strangely hollow.

you got up as well, moving over to the full-length mirror on the wall to inspect your new look.

sure enough, powder had worked her magic once again. your eyes looked striking, framed by expertly blended shades of black and grey. she'd even managed to add a subtle glittery touch, making your eyes look wide and captivating.

"damn, pow-pow," you murmured, admiring your reflection. "you outdid yourself this time."

powder smiled, clearly pleased with your reaction. she loved putting makeup on you, and she always got a kick out of your praise.

"thank you, babe." you gave her a loud smooch on the cheek.

powder's face softened at the familiar affectionate gesture, her cheeks tinted pink once again.

"of course," she replied affectionately, watching as you grabbed your clothes and headed towards the bathroom to get changed.

the sound of guests filing into the house echoed in the background, the party officially in full swing.

you put on the revealing dress you chose for the occasion, taking a deep breath and steadying yourself for the night ahead. you knew it'd be a chaotic evening, filled with drinking, dancing, and possibly some drama courtesy of jinx.

but for now, you took a moment to appreciate the quiet solitude of the bathroom and the way the dress made you feel: confident and sexy.

you felt a pang of excitement mixed with nervousness as you opened the bathroom door and stepped back out into powder's room, where she was trying to zip up her dress.

she was struggling with the zipper, her slender fingers unable to reach the top. "ugh, i can never get this stupid thing by myself," she muttered in frustration, her expression bordering on a pout.

you couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. despite her usually composed demeanor, powder could be ridiculously clumsy at times.

"here, let me help." you moved behind her, easily reaching the stubborn zipper and pulling it up effortlessly.

powder mumbled a muttered "thank you" as she smoothed down the fabric of the dress. it fit her perfectly, hugging her slight curves and highlighting her petite frame.

"i really need to invest in some dresses with easier zippers," she grumbled irritably.

"you look gorgeous," you purred, still standing behind her as you felt up her sides. "prettiest birthday girl ever."

powder chuckled at your words, her frustration melting away in an instant.

"you're biased," she retorted, glancing back at your reflection with a playful glint in her eyes.

"i'm just stating facts," you smirked, your hands roaming over her waist and hips.

you couldn't help it, the sight of her in that dress was intoxicating. her body, the way the fabric accentuated every curve and dip. she was irresistible.

"are you planning on being naughty tonight...?" you asked curiously.

powder's cheeks tinted slightly at your suggestive tone, her eyes briefly meeting yours before darting away.

"maybe. depends on how the night goes," she replied coyly, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

your hands still lingered on her hips, the possessive side of you not wanting to let go. but you fought against the urge, knowing that powder was free to flirt and mingle with whoever she wanted.

"choose wisely," you suggested, leaning to gently brush your nose to the side of her neck. "not anyone is deserving of such delicious treat..."

powder shivered slightly at the feather-light touch of my nose against her skin, her breath hitching ever so slightly.

"don't worry," she replied, her voice soft. "i have high standards."

you hummed in response, your fingers tracing lazy circles on her hips. it was almost torturous, wanting her so badly and having to be hands-off.

"and what exactly are your standards?" you murmured against her neck, your lips ghosting just barely over her pulse point.

she turned her head to glance at you over her shoulder, the air felt charged than ever. you thought this might be the moment everything changed, something you've been imagining since you were fourteen.

but no, because jinx then banged on the door claiming she can't be hostess on her own.

the sudden interruption completely shattered the intimate moment between you and powder. you groaned under your breath, irritation flaring up at the perfect timing jinx had to have.

powder sighed, stepping slightly away from you, "sounds like my services are needed out there," she said half jokingly.

you gritted your teeth, trying to tamper down your annoyance.

"yeah, better go see what the spoiled princess wants." you tried to make your tone playful, but annoyance still seethed underneath the surface.

powder rolled her eyes affectionately, clearly amused by your irritation. "i promise i'll come find you later," she said sweetly, squeezing your hand briefly before slipping out of the room.

you stared after her, my heart still racing from the interrupted moment. damn jinx.

powder walks out of her room, passing by her sister. that's when you see her—skimpy mini skirt, leather, multiple belts hanging by her round hips, high boots over fishnets hugging her legs, all that matching the tight top that could pass as another belt. she looked hot, ridiculously hot.

you bury your thoughts, walking up to her. "jinx, you didn't have to grab pieces of fabric from the trash can! i could've spared you a dress, y'know?"

jinx turned to look at you, an amused smirk on her face.

"please, as if i'd ever wear the frilly, girly stuff you have in your closet," she scoffed, placing her hands on her hips.

her outfit left very little to the imagination, her toned muscles clearly visible beneath the tight fabric. you had to quickly avert your eyes before you started staring like a creep.

"yeah yeah, and your style is so much better," you retorted sarcastically, gesturing to her outfit with a flick of your hand. "you look like you raided a punk rock thrift store and called it fashion."

"at least i have style," she shot back, her gaze raking up and down your body in a way that made your skin prickle. "you just look like a walking advertisement for lulu lemon."

shit—you had to bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling, too obvious. that had been annoyingly funny, and she noticed.

"oh, did i actually manage to make you laugh?" she teased, clearly enjoying your momentary slip-up.

you quickly recomposed myself, shaking your head in mock annoyance. "in your dreams," you replied, crossing your arms over your chest protectively.

jinx took a step closer, her eyes glinting mischievously. "awe, don't be like that," she cooned, her voice low and taunting. "admit it, you like my style."

you bit the insides of my cheek, hating how her proximity was making your heart flutter ever so slightly.

"you're delusional," you muttered. "you're like a poor attempt of a junky groupie."

jinx feigned a mock gasp, clutching a hand dramatically to her chest.

"excuse you," she said, her tone full of fake outrage. "i'll have you know that this is the height of punk fashion."

"more like the height of desperate for attention."

"and yet you can't seem to take your eyes off me." her tone was teasing and filled with innuendo.

damn it, she had you there. you quickly averted your gaze, trying to ignore the heat that was creeping up your neck. "you must be drunk already," you muttered, making your way downstairs to the party.

jinx followed you, her footsteps surprisingly swift despite the tall boots. "nah, just high," she replied nonchalantly, a smirk still playing on her lips.

"what?" you frowned up at her, continuing to walk down the stairs. "you smoked without me?"

while powder was very much against drugs, you definitely didn't mind having a joint or two weekly. it was the only time you and jinx didn't bother with bickering.

"you sound jealous," she teased, walking next to you as you descended the stairs.

"I am." you retorted, unable to help yourself. the thought of jinx smoking without you actually kind of bothered you. "what do you mean i'm sober and you're high?"

jinx hummed, her steps confident and cocky., "not my fault you've been too busy to toke up with me lately," she replied, her tone somewhat playful.

you bit your lip, knowing she was right. you had been busy setting up the party. she could've called you, though...

"yeah, well... i've had other things on my mind."

jinx raised an eyebrow at that, her gaze shifting to you, "what's more important than getting high with me?" she said, her tone a touch mocking.

"powder," you shrugged easily, too busy looking around the crowded room to notice the way jinx's expression faltered for a split second, a flicker of hurt flashing in her eyes.

she quickly masked it with her signature smirk, trying to brush it off. "right," she muttered, her voice almost too casual. "of course. the perfect little pow-pow's top priority."

speaking of, you caught sight of her across the room, talking to a group of people and laughing. seeing her in that dress stirred another feeling, a mixture of admiration and something more complicated.

"don't have too much fun," you smiled to jinx, putting aside your differences for a moment as you smooched her cheek the same way you usually do to powder. "happy birthday." you softly said to her ear.

jinx was caught off guard by the sudden affection, her cheeks tinting slightly pink. her smirk faded, replaced by a subtle softening of her features.

"thanks.." she mumbled, a hint of genuine gratitude in her voice.

you lingered for a moment, your nose gently brushing against her skin. then you stepped away, heading towards powder before you could think too much about what you were doing.

powder saw you approaching and her face lit up in a bright smile, her attention shifting away from the group she was talking to.

"there you are," she said warmly, her eyes sparkling as they roamed over you.

you couldn't help but smile back, "here i am."

powder took a step closer, her gaze admiring your outfit. "you look amazing," she murmured, her eyes roving slowly down your figure.

you blushed slightly at the compliment, your heart skipping a beat. "you're biased." you teased, repeating what she'd said to you earlier.

powder laughed, shaking her head. "just stating facts," she retorted, her hand finding your hip and giving it a light squeeze.

you bit your lip, fighting the urge to shiver at the contact. "flattery will get you everywhere," you joked, attempting to feign nonchalance.

"oh yeah?" powder raised an eyebrow, her thumb gently rubbing circles over your dress. you could feel the air getting charged again, just like in her room before jinx interrupted you. "everywhere, huh?" she murmured, her eyes locked on yours.

you were about to respond, but before you could, there was a sudden loud crash from the other side of the room.

you both turned to see jinx standing in the middle of a broken table, a stupid smirk on her face and an empty bottle of liquor in her hand. powder sighed, her hand falling away from your hip.

"great," she muttered. "already drunk."

you bit back a sarcastic retort, your irritation from before rushing back. it almost felt like she did it on purpose.

"and a show-off," you added, watching jinx as she high-fived some guy nearby.

powder shook head, clearly exasperated. "always making a scene."

"i'll get the broken glass." you reassured her with a smile.

"you don't have to-"

"it's fine," you said, not letting her argue. "i'll clean this up. you go deal with jinx before she accidentally sets something on fire."

powder chuckled and rolled her eyes, knowing full well that jinx was capable of causing some kind of chaos when she was inebriated.

"thanks," she said, patting your shoulder before heading over to jinx to talk her down.

you shook your head, muttering under your breath. "god, jinx is going to be such a handful tonight..."

as you kneeled down to collect the broken glass, you tried to push aside your disappointment. this night was supposed to be about spending time with powder, not babysitting jinx.

you tried to focus on the task at hand, but your mind kept wandering back to how close you were to having powder all to yourself. it was infuriating, how jinx always managed to get in the way.

at least old sis' violet was there to help out. jinx does listen to her, and she calmed down by the time you were done cleaning up.

only then the party started for you, and you got to have a fun time with your friends. most importantly, with powder.

the night went on and you slowly started to forget about jinx's antics. you got to spend hours with powder, laughing, dancing, and chatting with others.

it was hard to keep your hands to yourself, but you managed. your eyes constantly flitted to her and you drank her in, admiring how stunning she looked in that dress, the way her face lights up when she laughs...

damn, you were really down bad for your best friend.

a friend came up with a polaroid camera, asking you to pose. powder grinned, immediately pulling you into position. she wrapped her arm around your waist, pulling you close to her side. you tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered, forcing a smile for the camera. powder's grip on you was possessive and it made something inside you feel warm and fuzzy.

your cheeks pressed together as you smiled, you felt so giddy. you barely got to see it before said friend asked for another one.

as if sharing the same braincell, you and powder faced each other and touched lips, lingering for the picture, only for the picture, of course.

you swallowed the lump in your throat as the picture developed, revealing the moment you'd just captured. it was almost too much, the way you were so close, your lips touching. all for the sake of a silly picture.

powder broke the moment by playfully nudging you with her hip.

"we look cute," she remarked, flashing a charming smile.

"as always," you retorted, trying to sound casual and unaffected.

though your voice was a little more breathy than you would've liked, betraying just how much those five seconds of contact had affected you.

you quickly tried to change the subject. "you having a good birthday so far?"

powder nodded, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

"yeah," she said, her voice low. "it's been a good night."

you nodded in agreement, your heart still racing from the way she was looking at you. even in the dim lighting, her eyes were as captivating as ever.

you opened my mouth to respond, but your friend interrupted, handing you the newly printed photo.

"here you go," she said, beaming brightly. "you guys look adorable."

you thanked her friend, looking down at the picture, your heart giving another little flutter as you saw how close you were. it was just an innocent picture, a silly snap of two best friends having fun.

but looking at the photo now, it felt almost intimate, like you'd shared a secret moment.

you glance at powder, finding her expression turning conflictive. before you could ask her what's wrong, she's pulled by other friends to join their conversation. you felt a pang of disappointment, your heart sinking a little as you watched powder get swept away.

you tried to push down your feelings of jealousy, telling yourself that you were being silly. powder had other friends, and it was her birthday. she couldn't just stick by your side all night.

a few moments later, you caught a glimpse of jinx stumbling to the backyard. you sighed before finishing your drink, following her before she got in trouble.

she was outside, leaning against the wall and nursing a bottle of liquor. when she saw you approaching, she rolled her eyes.

"great, here comes the fun police," she drawled sarcastically.

"i prefer 'responsible adult', thank you very much," i replied, coming to stand next to her.

jinx huffed, taking another sip of her drink. "how boring."

you nudged her with your shoulder, "are you having fun?"

"oh, loads," she retorted sarcastically, her expression turning bitter, "nothing like getting wasted and making a complete ass out of myself to ring in my birthday."

you rolled your eyes at her self-pitying, shaking your head in frustration. "you're so unnecessarily dramatic," you scolded. "you're not the only one who's drunk, but you're the only one acting like a fool."

jinx shot you a glare, her eyes gleaming defiantly. "oh, like you're the picture of perfection, you and powder are always so goddamn proper and perfect all the time. it's sickening."

you felt a pang of hurt at her words, it makes you realize you're not drunk enough yet, so you snatch the bottle from her hand and take a long sip. jinx watched you with a mix of surprise and annoyance.

"hey, that's my booze!" she protested, reaching to take it back.

you held it out of reach, taking another gulp. the alcohol burned your throat, but the heat spreading through your chest was welcome.

jinx gritted her teeth, a flash of irritation passing through her expression. "give it back," she commanded, her voice edged with annoyance. "that's the good stuff."

"nah," you replied bluntly and smirked, relishing in her frustration. "you've had enough."

"you're not my mom," she whined, her words slurring slightly.

"no, but i'm the only one with enough common sense right now," you shot back, taking another swig from the bottle.

jinx grumbled under her breath, her eyes narrowing as she watched you chugging back the alcohol.

"you're such a buzz kill..." she muttered, her tone sour.

you couldn't help but feel a bit of sympathy for her. this isn't how she usually is at parties, and it didn't feel right to see her sulk in her own birthday.

against your better judgment, you place a hand on her forearm, squeezing softly.

she flinched slightly, her eyes darting to your hand on her skin. her expression softened a bit, the anger and irritation fading from her face as she met your gaze.

"what?" she grumbled, her voice lacking its usual bite.

"you can't act like a spoiled brat for your entire birthday," you chided, my tone surprisingly tender. "what's the matter, jinx?"

jinx's bravado crumbled, her expression shifting from sulky to vulnerable in the span of a moment.

"nothing," she muttered, her gaze dropping to the ground.

you sighed, sensing that something was truly bothering her. "try again," you prompted gently. "something's clearly got you all twisted up, and i know it's not just the alcohol."

jinx's jaw clenched, her expression tightening as if she was warring with herself on whether to talk or keep quiet.

finally, she let out a frustrated huff, her words coming out a bit slurred.

"it's stupid," she muttered, her voice a pitiful whine.

"tell me," you urged softly, your fingers gently stroking her arm in an attempt to soothe. "i won't think it's stupid."

jinx finally relented under your gentle coaxing, her shoulders sagging. "it's just..." she began, her voice cracking slightly, "everyone's having fun but me.

you could hear the childish petulance in her voice, but there was an underlying vulnerability that tugged at your heart.

"why's that?" you asked in hopes that she'd open up. everyone deserved to have a nice birthday, even the most obnoxious girl you know.

"because everyone's only focusing on powder," she whined, the jealousy in her voice clear. "it's like i don't even exist."

you bit back another scoff, resisting the urge to tell her to stop acting like a spoiled child.

but yeah, most people preferred spending time with powder rather than jinx. but it's because she pushes people away, purposefully making them upset or uncomfortable.

you hummed sympathetically, knowing there was some truth in her words. but you couldn't help but think she'd dug her own grave with her behaviour.

"i mean, you kind of bring it on yourself," you pointed out bluntly. "you're not exactly a joy to be around when you're behaving like a brat.

jinx gave you a sullen look, clearly not pleased with your honesty. "i can't help it," she muttered, her voice sulky. "i'm not a people pleaser like you and pow-pow."

you rolled your eyes, unable to deny the truth in her words. powder was naturally kind and sociable, while you were more reserved and observant around people.

and jinx was anything but polite and patient.

"you can at least *try* to be nicer, you know."

jinx scoffed, her lips turning into a scowl. "spare me the lecture," she muttered irritably. "i'm not changing who i am just to make people like me."

"then don't let it get to you," you shrugged, finding it easy to wrap your arm around her shoulder to pull her closer. "it's your birthday. you don't sit alone in the backyard with a beer and a cig."

jinx huffed, her sulky expression crumbling slightly as you pulled her closer. her resistance faded away, her body pressed against yours.

"i just... i want people to pay attention to me for once," she muttered sullenly, her eyes downcast. "it's my birthday, dammit."

your heart ached at the vulnerability in her voice. as annoying as jinx could be, you didn't like seeing her like this.

you pulled her even closer, your hand moving up to thread through her hair gently, careful to not mess up her braids. she leaned into your touch, her head tilting against your shoulder.

"they *are* paying attention to you," you replied, your tone softer. "everyone's here for you. they're just not as... demanding as you are."

"whatever," she muttered, her expression still sulky. "they're having fun without me. i feel like an afterthought."

"that's because you've been out here pouting instead of joining in," you pointed out, your fingers now massaging the nape of her neck. "you're making yourself a wallflower, you idiot."

"shut up," she muttered, her voice a petulant whine. "i'm not *pouting*..."

you kept your opinion to yourself this time, your fingers continuing to gently soothe her tense muscles.

there's a wave of silence, the music and chatting muffled from your spot. it was quite nice, jinx's natural body heat keeping you warm while you comforted her. who would've thought?

jinx's breathing slowed, her earlier sulkiness diminishing slightly as you continued to rub her neck. her body relaxed against yours, a quiet sigh escaping her lips.

you felt a pang of affection as she nuzzled her head even more into you, the tough exterior she usually wore crumbling before you. it wasn't unpleasant. in fact, you found yourself enjoying it more than you probably should.

jinx broke the silence, her voice a bit groggy.

"you're way too good at that," she mumbled, her cheek pressed against your shoulder. you smirked in amusement at her comment, your fingers continuing to massage the nape of her neck.

"you're just way too tense all the time," you replied, your tone playful.

"that's because i'm constantly surrounded by idiots," she muttered, her usual snarkiness missing.

"and you're the queen of idiots, right?"

"shut up."

you giggled quietly before kissing her forehead. jinx's eyes snapped open, her expression momentarily shocked. but her surprise quickly faded, replaced by a hint of... something else.

you were taken aback by your own actions, realizing that you'd mindlessly kissed her just like you'd do to powder. it felt natural, like second nature.

a moment of awkward silence passed as you both seemed to process what just happened. you felt my cheeks heating up, realizing that you'd overstepped. this was jinx you were dealing with, the last person you should be getting comfortable with.

however, jinx didn't protest. she didn't pull away. in fact, her gaze flickered up to meet your eyes, her expression strangely thoughtful. you held her gaze, trying to decipher what was going on in her head. her eyes darted down to your lips for a second, her own parted slightly.

it stirred something within you. you could feel the air shift, tension crackling. it felt like one of you was about to say something, but you both remained uncharacteristically quiet.

you could feel your heart pounding in your chest as both of you unconsciously inched closer, her breath warm against your lips. your mind was a mess of contradictions—telling you to pull away, but also pushing you to do the exact opposite.

the same conflict mirrored in jinx's eyes, her gaze both uncertain yet fixated on your lips. the way her breath hitched ever so softly you almost missed it.

your resolve was crumbling with every passing moment, the intensity of the situation becoming almost overwhelming. your gaze flicked from her blue eyes to her lips, landing on them for a second too long. god damnit, why did she have to look so captivating up close? her tongue darted out briefly to wet her lips, the action sending a jolt of desire right through you, your noses already brushing together.

this is wrong, a voice in the back of your mind chanted. she's obnoxious, rude, and downright insufferable most of the time. this is jinx, your best friend's annoying sister who's the opposite of you in every possible way.

but the voice was growing fainter and fainter, being silenced by the louder inner voice that was screaming to just take the jump, to give in to desire.

just one... a small, hesitant little peck to satisfy your curiosity.

the touch of her lips against yours sent electric sparks through your body. it was just a quick brush of lips, barely even a kiss.

but it was enough to set your body on fire, leaving you craving more. you saw the same look of confusion mirrored in her eyes, her breath coming out slightly heavier.

"that was- that was the alcohol," you excused poorly.

"yeah, definitely the alcohol," jinx agreed quickly, her cheeks slightly flushed. "i can't believe i just... i mean, why would i-"

she trailed off, shaking her head as if to snap out of it. your eyes met again, both of you silently agreeing to brush it under the rug with the easy explanation—it was just the alcohol.

you both stood there awkwardly, the tension still thick.

jinx cleared her throat and rubbed the back of her neck, avoiding eye contact. she suddenly seemed very interested in examining a random spot on the ground.

the kiss had happened so fast that it was almost like it didn't even happen. except for how your lips still tingled from where they'd touched hers. unconsciously, you brought up your hand, tracing them faintly as if they hold a memory you didn't want to forget.

jinx noticed, her own eyes flickering down to your lips again for a split second.

she quickly looked away, neither knew what to say or do next. it wasn't like you could just pretend that tiny kiss didn't happen when both your faces were burning with embarrassment and... yearning for more. the silence stretched out, painfully awkward.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, jinx leaned in again.

your body moved before your brain could even process it. you responded instinctively, closing the distance and meeting her halfway. this time though, there was no hesitation, your lips pressed together properly this time, a real kiss forming instead of just an accidental brush like before.

jinx's lips were surprisingly soft against yours, and she kissed with a quiet urgency that made your stomach flip.

your hand instinctively moved to her face as you deepened the kiss slightly, the earlier awkwardness melting away into something far more intimate and heated. the world seemed to fade away, the muffled music and laughter from inside becoming nothing but background noise.

jinx kissed you with a passion you didn't know she had, her lips were warm and insistent, her hands gripping your waist lightly as if afraid you'd pull away again. you kissed back just as eagerly, pressing yourself against her until her back hit the wall.

it felt way too good, while it lasted.

why did you think you could get away from your best friend for so long? did you even think, at all?

the sound of powder's voice hit you like a bucket of ice water, making you both freeze mid-kiss. jinx pulled away immediately, from your hand the beer bottle you forgot you had slid off to the floor as you turned, mortified.

there stood powder, completely still, her face an unreadable mask. but you could see the exact moment realization dawned on her features... and it wasn't nice.

jinx isn’t sure how to describe what she felt when you first told her that you and your girlfriend broke up.

joy, at the fact you were finally free of that lowlife asshole who didn’t know how to treat a girl. despair, knowing that you’d be torn up about this. you did get dumped seemingly out of the blue, after all. not to mention that breakups are hard to begin with, no matter the circumstances.

most of all, she feels excited. you met her about a year into your relationship- with her finding you charming from the very beginning. kind and witty in a way she isn’t, not to mention absolutely stunning. when you mentioned your girlfriend in passing, jinx was devastated. every time you brought her up in conversation made her bristle, made her snappy. you tried not to pay it any mind, but it’s been clear throughout your entire friendship that jinx didn’t like her.

you thought it might be because you complained about her a fair bit, and that jinx was a little too harsh. a little too protective over you. but you shrugged it off, appreciating her concern. 

it was partially true. jinx did hate her for those reasons, stating over and over again that you deserved better. she left out that the ‘better’ she spoke of was her. she would give you the entire world and then some, anything to see that beautiful smile- if she could only call you hers, you’d never know hardship again. every time you came to her to vent about another argument between you and your girlfriend, she hoped that you’d tell her you finally broke up. it’s a longing that nearly split her open.

still, jinx is respectful. she’s never made any advances, because she knows you’re spoken for. the last thing she wants to do is drive you further away when she has someone so good in her life.

that’s never stopped her from stealing glances at your cleavage, though, or taking notice of how perfectly your favorite jeans hug the curve of your ass. when you lean over while wearing skirts, jinx just about short-circuits, feeling warm between her thighs and having to wait torturously until you leave the hideout so she can run to her cot and shove her fingers inside herself.

squealing like a virgin, using her free hand to pinch and pull at her nipples. wishing more than anything that it was you doing this to her.

even though you may be distraught, your breakup is some of the best news jinx has ever heard.

a knock rings at her door, and jinx springs up to open it. this is her first time seeing you since the breakup- which is now a week behind you- and she isn’t sure what to expect.

her heart contracts in her chest when she opens the door to see your face, eyes downcast and expression still. you don’t look upset, per se, rather numb. she isn’t sure which one is worse.

“heya, toots,” she hums, trying to give you a small smile. “you don’t look too hot.”

“yeah, i don’t feel it either.”

she chuckles softly and steps aside to allow you into her hideout. you both make your way down the steel panels toward her workbench, then turn to her bedroom, where you kick off her shoes and sit down on the beanbag huddled in the corner. jinx makes herself comfortable on the floor next to you.

one of the things jinx thinks sets her apart from your ex is that she genuinely cares about you and your well-being. as much as she wants to go the extra mile with you, it breaks her to see you so withdrawn, especially over someone who barely gave you the time of day.

she wants you to be happy, first and foremost. you’re so much more than that girl made you out to be.

“do you wanna talk about it?” she offers.

you shrug, worrying at your bottom lip. “i dunno. it just.. sucks that it had to end this way. things weren’t good, but i hoped they’d get better. she kept saying they would.”

jinx nods along with your words, tilting her head as she listens.

she could’ve told you things wouldn’t get better. she did tell you that. but that isn’t going to make you feel any better right now. 

you run a hand through your hair and let out a heavy breath. since the actual breakup, you haven’t talked about this with anybody. it feels so, so good to finally be able to let it out with someone who understands.

“i wish she would’ve tried harder. that she would’ve fought for us, but in the end, it was like i was nothing to her,” you breathe out. “i tried, i really did. i was so patient, and i stuck around because i loved her, but.. sometimes that isn’t enough, i guess.”

“you can’t love someone into loving you,” jinx murmurs.

your lips press into a thin line, and you nod.

“i know that.”

“but you still feel like shit.”

you nod again, and jinx’s lips pull into a little frown. now that you’re saying everything out loud, you’re realizing for the first time just how bad everything was.

how terribly this girl treated you, the entire year and a half of your relationship.

“but i still feel like shit.” you affirm.

the girl grasps your hand gently, and your shoulders untense. she looks at you earnestly, rosy eyes boring into hers. she wishes that she could take away the pain, and more importantly, that your affections would be focused on her instead.

maybe she’s selfish for thinking that. maybe she’s too far-gone. she can’t help herself, though, especially not when your voice remains sweet in the way you try to defend your ex and your cleavage is barely peeking out of your tops.

gods. what she’d do if you would only let her.

she snaps herself out of her thoughts and forces her eyes up.

“well, duh. you just got dumped. you’re gonna feel terrible. but that doesn’t mean you gotta let it consume you, you know? there’s plenty of fish in the sea, or whatever they say.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. “yeah? doesn’t seem like it.”

jinx gives your hand a gentle squeeze, a million thoughts running through her head. she wishes she could take you by the shoulders and shake you and yell ‘i’m right here,’ yet she knows she can’t. 

“i swear, there are.”

with a swallow, you nod once again, drawing your knees up to your chest. right now, your gaze is anywhere but jinx. since the breakup, you’ve isolated yourself a fair bit. supposing that nobody would want to hear about the torment you’ve gone through, you kept it locked deep inside. it feels almost wrong to finally let it out. you know, though, with someone like jinx, things could never be wrong.

“i don’t think i’m gonna find anyone like her again,” you sigh.

jinx can’t hold herself back from snorting. “yeah, that’s the whole point. you don’t need anyone like her.”

she’s right. you know she is, and still, you can’t bring yourself to meet her imploring gaze.

“i know. even though i feel terrible, it.. it does kind of feel like a weight is lifted off my shoulders, you know?”

jinx gives a soft ‘mhm,’ trying not to let her delight show externally.

internally, she’s rejoicing. you’re feeling relief, which is good, and moreso, a sign of moving on, a sign she can take to swoop in and make you happy.

your eyes finally lift to meet hers, and jinx’s heart skips a beat. subconsciously, her face moves closer to yours, inching minute by minute.

“you’re a lot better off without her,” she says, voice hushed and raspy. “even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”

she doesn’t miss the way your mouth opens then closes, or the way you trip over your words. “yeah, i guess so.”

she huffs again, so close now that the two of you are sharing breath. you can smell gunpowder loosely clinging to her, as well as the slight scent of cotton candy perfume. you could count all of the freckles dusting her cheeks if you wanted to. you don’t think you’ve ever been this close to your friend. 

“i know so.”

without further hesitation, jinx closes the barely-there gap between the two of you. you’re not sure what comes over you in that moment, but you press back into her, lips finding a steady rhythm as your hand finds the back of her head and tangles in loose blue strands. a soft whine escapes the girl, and heat rushes straight to your core.

what you’d do to hear that sound again.

it starts out slow and gentle, but jinx quickly quickens the pace, traces the seal of your lips with her tongue and presses her chest flush against yours when you let her in. she licks into you with reckless abandon, her hands trailing from your shoulders down to your hips and digging into the soft skin there.

“fuck, you’ve got no idea how long i’ve wanted to do this,” she murmurs, wasting no time before kissing you once again. all you can do is weakly moan against her. 

jinx is your best friend. you’ve just gotten out of a long-term relationship. this should feel wrong, but the girl has a way of making you feel like you’ve never felt before.

all you know is that you want more.

you weakly prop yourself up against the wall, jinx chuckling against your lips and taking the hint. she leads you over to her cot where you fall back onto the mattress, and jinx immediately straddles your hips.

her lips are back on yours within seconds, ravenous, like she wants to devour you- if only you knew how many times she’s fantasized about this.

“mm, you’re so fucking hot,” she sighs. she presses another wet kiss to your lips before she starts mouthing at your jawline, trailing kiss after kiss and lightly nipping at the skin. her lips are slightly chapped, and when she descends to your neck, you can’t help tipping your head back. “you have any idea how long i’ve wanted this? huh?”

“what?” you breathe out, your arms winding around the girl’s thin waist despite yourself. she smirks against your skin.

jinx doesn’t answer at first. she just slightly nips at your neck, leaving dark marks in her wake. the girl’s hands creep under your top, fingers bony and cold to the touch. you shiver, and she giggles. 

“so fucking long,” she sighs. “i hated seeing you with her, you know. always thought she was no good. i could treat you so much better. could fuck you so much better, too.”

her hands find your tits, and she delights in the fact you’re not wearing a bra. soft to the touch, she kneads at first, squeezing between her hands, and you let out a helpless little whimper.

it’s taking a lot of willpower to process what she’s just said. this whole time, you thought that jinx’s sentiments toward you were purely platonic. yes, she would joke about your hangouts being dates, and she was always a bit touchy with you. you didn’t miss the way her eyes lingered on your breasts at times, but you thought this was just her way of showing affection.

oh, how wrong you were. how good it feels to be under her hands.

somewhere in the heat of it all, her top comes off, perky pale tits displayed as she throws her braids behind her shoulders.

her forefinger and thumb pinch your nipples and start rolling them, drawing a high gasp from you that makes jinx ache. her clit’s throbbing, her pussy is clenching around nothing, desperate for attention- and yet, she knows this is about you.

she isn’t going to ruin this with her own greed.

“jinx-” you say, and she tilts her head.

“hmm?” “keep going, don’t stop..”

those might be the best words she’s ever heard. she gives a toothy grin, huffing to herself before she yanks your top up over your head and throws it to some corner of the room like it’s personally wronged her. 

her head flies down to your collarbones, placing hungry kisses and kitten licks against the skin, shimmer-pink saliva trailing down the valley between your breasts. she goes back to eagerly pinching at and kneading your tits, cruel and harsh in the way that’s so jinx. yet somehow, it’s still gentle. she wouldn’t dream of hurting you.

“don’t think about her right now,” she rasps, spitting the words out like they’re bitter on her tongue. “only me.”

the girl kisses down your navel, then flattens her tongue to lick a slow stripe downward. she’s only had you in a grasp for a few minutes, and she’s already intoxicated off of you. your skin is even softer than she thought it would be, you smell so fucking good, you’re so beautiful.

as your fingernails start to dig into her scalp, jinx lets out a groan and gently nips at your stomach, making your breath hitch. your head falls back, her fingers finding their way under the waistband of your jeans. jinx looks up to you, eyes wide and desperate as a silent request for permission. you nod frantically, and she flies to work the button and free you of the extra layer.

soft thighs displayed before her, your breathing labored, jinx smirks.

her eyes land on your panties, the little piece of cotton separating you from her- then the wet patch that’s formed between your thighs, and her eyes blow even wider. all of this, for her?

“goddamn, you’re soaked,” she laughs. “did i do that?”

you meekly nod, and something deep surges within her. she nudges your legs apart with her hand, then lands two fingers to start teasing at your clit through your panties. a quiet moan falls from your lips, and jinx only presses firmer. her thighs on either side of your body, the girl draws out the taunting just a little more.

you squirm and moan, mind already cloudy with everything that’s gone on and what she’s doing to your senses. after a few more quick strokes, jinx decides she’s been mean enough- and frankly, her patience is running out.

when she pulls your panties off, jinx’s mouth goes dry at the sight that greets her. glistening cunt, puffy lips, clit needy and aching- so much more perfect than she could’ve imagined. your furrowed brows and parted lips only add to her excitement.

she wastes no time pressing her thumb back to your clit, while her middle and ring fingers line up with your weeping hole, arousal already dripping onto the sheets below you. your hands move to her back, nails raking along the powder-blue clouds climbing up her torso, and she hisses through her teeth. it only makes her more desperate.

jinx fantasized about taking you in many different ways. would you like it rough and hard, with her whispering dirty and degrading things into your ear? or would you want slow, gentle lovemaking with her lips brushing your neck and her murmuring sweet nothings?

right now, none of that concerns you. she just wants you, as quickly as possible. that’s why her fingers push into you, quick and mean, and she chuckles when you cry out.

“fuck, ah-”

“shh,” she whispers. “you’re okay, hon. doin’ so good for me.”

jinx hovers over you, staring and taking in your every expression as her fingers work you open. she thrusts in and out, thumbing at your clit so quickly your thoughts are starting to blur around the edges. her fingers feel incredible inside of you, long and strong and reaching all the spots your ex never could. lewd noises spill from your lips, chest heaving as your nails scrape along her back.

jinx revels in how wet you are, how your pussy seems to eagerly suck her back in every time. the girl’s gapped teeth bite at her lower lip, smiling to herself. this is so much better than anything she could’ve imagined. 

“ah, please,” you whine, spine curling off the mattress, hips lifting in a weak attempt to get more friction. “more, faster-”

without words, jinx ups the pace, fucking into you even faster, crooking her fingers just right so she reaches that spongy spot inside of you. a ragged moan escapes you as her thumb keeps rubbing your clit in cruel circles, sending shockwaves through your system.

your tits bounce every time her fingers piston into you, and jinx can’t stop herself from ducking down to catch one of them in her mouth- her lips forming a seal and suckling. she alternates between sucking and swirling her tongue around the perked nipple, and when she starts to lightly tug at it with her teeth, you’re pushed over the edge.

it’s not gentle, rather your orgasm slams into you like a freight train. white-hot pleasure surges through you, setting all of your nerves alight as your mind and vision go completely blank. you don’t think you’ve ever felt something this intense. it utterly consumes you.

“there you go,” jinx says. “fuck, you’re beautiful. y’know that? finally get to have you. did she ever make you come this hard? huh?” 

you shake your head rapidly, a jumbled string of ‘no’s coming from you. who could’ve predicted that of all people- the mad bomber, your best friend, would be able to make you feel this good? she never spoke of any flings or relationships since you met her, is she just that talented?

the girl keeps thrusting, albeit slowly, riding out your orgasm as she lets your breast go with a wet ‘pop.’ you’re reeling, your heart slamming against your ribs as you come down. 

“you’re.. you’re really good.”

jinx snorts and shakes her head, giving you a lazy smile. “of course i am. there’s a lot more where that came from.”

you prop yourself up onto your elbows, body trembling in the aftershocks, and jinx is quick to gently help you into a sitting position. she brushes a kiss to your cheek, so much softer than she was just a minute ago, and rushes to the corner of her room to grab you a plastic water bottle.

“here. mighta screamed yourself hoarse,” she giggles.

with a small smile, you uncap the water bottle and take a heavy swig, before settling against jinx’s headboard. 

you’re always a vision to behold. but like this- a thin sheen of sweat covering you, shimmering saliva still evident on your skin, your chest heaving, and dark marks littering your neck, you look divine. the best jinx has ever seen you.

“feelin’ okay?”

“yeah,” you hum. 

she smiles and leans forward, this time claiming your lips once again. soft and tentative. “you think you got one more in ya?” she whispers against you. “cause i really wanna go again.”

your body is worn thin from how intense she just was, with how much pleasure she gave you- yet you can’t think of anything better than doing this again.

it’s wrong. you shouldn’t be doing this while you’re still actively recovering from a broken heart. and yet, it’s been a long time since anything has felt this right.

“yeah, yeah,” you breathe out. “i do. promise.”

jinx’s eyes light up and she snickers, swiping a messy kiss to your cheek as she tugs off her own layers- the simple pair of sleep shorts she’s left in, no panties underneath. milky thighs come into view, along with the patch of thick curls around her cunt, framing puffy lips. she’s already dripping arousal onto her inner thighs.

gods, you think. poor girl.

now that your breathing has evened out, jinx figures she’s given you enough time to recover. especially considering how your hips unconsciously chase her, causing her to damn near soak through the bedsheets. 

her calloused hands take one of your legs and swings it over her shoulder, letting her quickly slot yourself between your thighs- dripping cunts a breadth away from each other. you gasp, and she groans. 

“ready?”

you nod once again, and that’s all the permission the girl needs. 

that first second of contact is electric. slick against slick, you can feel her desperation against you as she gasps. she gives a slow wind of her hips, as if to test the waters, and you let out a whimper as your clits catch.

your hand finds her waist, while the other fists in the sheets. 

jinx’s bangs are messy over her eye, her braids thrown behind her. she gives another slow grind, then another, before you start to fuck back against her, and she lets out a low groan. 

as you pick up the pace, a flush starts creeping its way onto jinx’s face. she grips your thigh, nails digging in and leaving little crescent marks, feeling your clit brush hers and feeling your arousal so fucking close she can smell it. it causes her head to spin.

“shit,” she hisses, going faster by the minute. “ungh- you’re so fucking perfect, so pretty, shoulda let me have you sooner-”

“jinx-”

“i know,” she growls, rutting against you like an animal in heat. the last thing she wants to hear right now is more excuses, more about that good-for-nothing ex of yours. tits bouncing with every swivel. “i’ve waited long enough.”

wet sloshing fills the room along with lewd noises, a lewd cacophony that bounces off the walls. the sight in front of you is borderline pornographic, with her plush lips forming an ‘o’ and dribble coming from the corner of her mouth as she fucks against you.

you’re learning so many new things about your friend tonight- one being how incredible she is in bed, the other being how beautiful she looks like this.

as your head starts to tilt back once again, jinx grabs your chin and forces it back down. “look at me,” she demands. “just me.”

your eyes bore into her shimmering gaze as you grind down against her. you’re not sure who’s fucking who at this point, who’s in control- as far as you’re concerned, the both of you are equally desperate. already sensitive from your previous orgasm, all of your senses are heightened, every nerve ending in your body being set ablaze. 

she’s all around you. in your head, before your eyes, inside of you, her soul becoming intertwined with yours.

“mmshit, right there!” you whine, and jinx huffs a laugh. “feels so good, please-”

“i gotcha,” she rasps. her abs are tensing as she climbs higher and higher, chasing her own orgasm. jinx would usually last longer than this, but she can’t help herself.

as she feels that knot winding in her lower belly, she surges forward to claim your lips in another messy kiss. all spit, teeth and tongue, licking into your mouth like she wants to swallow you whole. you kiss back the best you can, swirling your tongue with hers and moving your arms to wrap around her shoulders as she keeps humping against you. the headboard slams against the wall, the mattress creaking.

you can’t even tell whose slick is whose. you’re both lost.

and as you tug jinx’s lower lip between your teeth, biting down hard enough to draw the tiniest amount of blood, she tips over that edge, squirting translucent-pink juices over your abused cunt. over your stomach, your inner thighs, positively soaking the sheets as she lets out sharp cries of your name, near babbling at this point. 

about how good you feel. about how much she loves this pussy. 

you’re not far behind her, especially as she doesn’t let up, pushing you further and further until you’re gushing over her, liquids mixing as she pants heavy over your face.

she’s positively addicting. you swear that your ears ring for a second, jinx finally starting to come to a stop once you’ve reached your peak. you weakly rut against her, your hips stuttering from the sheer overstimulation as your nails rake into her skin.

“fuck, no more,” you gasp. “gods, jinx-”

“i know, toots,” she replies. 

truth is, she could go all night. the shimmer coursing through her veins has given her superhuman stamina. but she isn’t a monster, and doesn’t want to push you beyond your limits- not too far, anyways.

“just.. gonna stay here for a minute.”

you don’t object. just try to catch your breath after both of you finally stop grinding.

you jolt up from your sleep with a gasp upon hearing a knock at the door. less a knock, more continuous banging against the wood.

the digital clock on your nightstand reads 2:12am, your apartment is completely still and dark otherwise. you swipe open your phone to check for any missed texts or calls, and the only notifications are from your manager and coworkers. there’s only one person who could be at your door at this time of night.

eyelids still heavy, brain still booting up, you swing your legs over the side of your bed and raise a fist to rub at your eyes. you drag yourself over to the door and when the lock clicks open, sure enough- there she is.

jinx. 

“you look like hell,” you mutter.

the girl chuckles, voice hoarse. she’s got days-old eyeliner smudged on her face, dark lipstick, dried blood caked under her nose. blood seeps through the wraps around her knuckles, which are no doubt split. frayed bandages bind her chest while her jeans have more rips in them than you remember. a few of her nails are broken, and you can see the effort it takes her to give you a wry smile.

at the very least, nothing seems to be broken this time. that’s a rarity.

“yeah? i just got back,” she huffs.

the corners of your lips tug into a little frown as she stumbles into your apartment, butting past you and straight into the living room. there’s a limp to her step, and she’s clearly exhausted. 

you shouldn’t be letting her in like this. you’re not some good samaritan who takes on charity cases like it’s nothing.

you have responsibilities. a job. someone to answer to, while jinx only has what’s left of her conscience and her bong.

and yet, you don’t fight her. you just sigh as she makes her way to your bedroom, easygoing as if this were her place too, kicking off her boots. dark bags cling to your undereyes, and it doesn’t seem to escape jinx’s notice.

“did i wake you?”

“yeah.” 

she just snorts.

infuriating. if there’s one thing that jinx has, it’s audacity. “sorry.”

you know that she isn’t. the relationship that you and jinx have is difficult to define in mere words- the two of you meeting at a dingy dive bar in the undercity one day before she seemed to go off the deep end. she mentioned that she was a good fighter, but the more you saw each other, the more you started to notice her rapid deterioration.

yellow-and-purple bruises blooming on her ribcage, one of her side teeth being chipped, her wrist constantly being in a splint (that she didn’t wear enough for there to even be a point in having it), and the unsteady gait she sported. she always swore she was alright. she made good money, being the fighter she was- you almost couldn’t believe it.

such a small, scrawny girl who might seem delicate to the untrained eye. you know that she’s anything but. 

it wasn’t long before you started fucking. “no strings attached,” as jinx said, but you both knew that there were underlying, unacknowledged feelings for each other. neither of you acted on them, seeing as your lifestyles are so opposite each other and jinx has so much going on, a relationship is the last thing she needs.

maybe you could set her straight. you think that, then the girl updates you on her life, and you’re reminded that she’s too far gone. the only one who can get her out of the hole she’s dug for herself is her.

you sit down on your bed beside her, brushing a hand through your hair and sighing, before the girl scoots closer to you and starts mouthing at your neck. feather-light touches at first, but with little hums against your skin.

you had a feeling this is why she came here.

your suspicions are confirmed when she smiles against your neck as you tilt your head back, succumbing to the feeling, and you catch a glimpse of a bulge underneath her pants. 

“hopin’ to get lucky, huh?”

“something like that,” she chuckles, teeth grazing soft skin. your breath hitches. “what, is that a problem?”

you shouldn’t keep letting this girl into your home. especially not late at night like this. you shouldn’t stand idly by as she ruins herself, faces off with death every night and lets the gods gamble. 

gods, does she feel good, though. you can’t help succumbing to her.

jinx crawls into your lap, pushing you to lean against the headboard as she moves down your neck, blooming hickeys being left behind. she kisses down your clavicle, then toward your breasts, thin tank barely covering your nipples. the woman tugs your top off wordlessly, and you sigh. pebbled nipples greet her, and she chuckles.

“fuck, you’re perfect,” she breathes out, before diving in- she’s always had a thing for your tits. chapped lips form a seal around your nipple, not wasting any time before she starts swirling her tongue around the firm bud. no doubt leaving her lipstick on your skin.

“agh, god-” you choke out, and jinx giggles against you.

her hand, calloused and firm, grabs your other tit and starts rolling the nipple between her finger and thumb, pinching every now and again. harsh and cruel, just like she likes it. you let out breathy moans, already overwhelmed.

“tell me to stop, and i will.”

“don’t stop,” you respond. “don’t you fucking dare.”

this is another benefit of being in jinx’s corner. she’s damn good in bed.

she nudges your thighs apart and immediately slots her knee between them, rubbing at the barely-clothed heat. clad in a pair of thin cotton panties and tiny sleep shorts, there’s barely any barrier between the two of you. you start to grind your hips down subconsciously, a desperate attempt for friction. jinx has barely touched you, and you’re already a dripping mess.

“you want it bad, huh?”

you can only nod, which draws another giggle from jinx. the vibrations send shivers down your spine, causes your pussy to clench around nothing.

“you’re such a slut,” she says. “that’s okay, though. you know i love it.”

you’re shameless. you can’t help being this way when she’s here.

“please-”

“please what, pretty?” she presses up, harder, her knee right in contact with your clit, and you let out a guttural moan. 

“fuck me,” you gasp.

through the dark of your room, you can faintly see a smile stretch wide across her face. she finally lets go of your tits, licking a quick stripe down your torso. all decorum is lost. she’s impatient, desperate to free you of the fabric separating you- you tug at the bandages round her chest, and she lets you unravel them. you palm at her breasts, overwhelmed by pleasure already. it’s almost embarrassing, how quickly she can turn you into a puddle of unabashed need.

she lets out cute little gasps, shaky whines, before finally stripping you of your shorts and panties and discarding them to some unknown corner of your bedroom. 

your hands fly out to grab at the waistband of her jeans, but jinx’s bandaged hand slaps them away to tug them off herself. through the pale moonlight shining through the window, you can see the huge, girthy strap she’s prepared- slightly curved to the right, picked especially for you.

you don’t know how you’re going to fit it all. your brows furrow, and your mouth is slightly agape.

“somethin’ wrong, toots?”

you shake your head, thighs unconsciously spreading wider. she thumbs at your clit in lazy little circles, making your thoughts all fuzzy and drawing soft moans from you.

“no, i just- dunno if i can take-”

“shh,” jinx presses her index finger to your lips, giggling. “you’ll take it. i know you can.”

the girl spits in her hand and pumps her cock once, twice, biting her lip like she’s actually gaining pleasure from this, and huffs as she sees your dazed expression. she leans back a little to line up the bulbous silicone tip with your hole, leaking already, then starts to push in- gentle, slow at first, before bottoming out in one brutal thrust.

you cry out like the air’s been punched from your lungs, your walls burning and fighting to adjust to the intrusion.

it’s harsh. it’s addictive. she pulls out halfway, then thrusts back in, setting a quick pace from the beginning. her hands come to push your knees up to your chest and pound into you.

she shouldn’t be exerting herself like this. not when her hips are creaking and her hands aren’t able to hold onto you as tight as they usually can, likely on account of her injuries. you shouldn’t even be letting her do this, but your resolve always crumbles in her presence. jinx is your one weakness, and she knows that perfectly well. 

in, then out, she pistons her hips, skin slapping against skin. lewd noises spill from your lips, high moans. raising in volume with every thrust.

“ungh, that feels so fucking good, jinx, you’re-” the tip kisses your cervix, and you let out a squeal. “shit, shit, shit!”

jinx laughs low in her throat. her nails start digging into the plush skin of your thighs, undoubtedly leaving behind crescent marks in their wake. she leans down to bite at your earlobe, then licking the spot right below your ear and suckling at soft skin. 

“pussy was fuckin’ made for me,” she breathes, voice low and raspy. “say it. love this pussy, fuck, i could die right here.”

you whine, your voice shaky. “was made for you- agh!”

jinx’s teeth sink into her lower lip as she pistons her hips at alarming speed, rosy eyes faintly glowing- she’s damn near superhuman with the shimmer coursing through her veins. your tits bounce with the friction, your head tilts back, your mind is growing fuzzier by the second.

you can feel her all around you. in your stomach. in your fucking ribs.

she fucks into you like she’s paid to do it, like her body isn’t rapidly deteriorating due to her chosen path. she really should be resting right now. taking time to recover, instead, she’s with her fuck-buddy, showing up like a lost lamb.

obscene squelching comes from your pussy, shrill cries and lewd moans spilling from your lips. cunt leaking around her cock, a white ring of arousal’s started to form around the base. the headboard has started to slam against the wall, the mattress creaking with every harsh thrust- you’ll have to apologize to your neighbors later.

you feel that familiar coil start to wind in your lower belly, bringing you closer to ecstasy. you try to breathe out something akin to “i’m close,” but all that comes out are desperate whimpers.

luckily, jinx seems to understand. “where’s that smart girl gone? huh? stuffed full of dick, suddenly you can’t think?”

you can’t do anything but nod, and jinx barks a laugh, thrusting into you even firmer somehow. 

“that’s alright, hon. i gotcha,” she giggles.

jinx spits on her hand once more, even though you’re thoroughly soaked. her dextrous fingers reach between your legs, finding your neglected and pulsing clit and rubbing in cruel circles. a guttural moan rips from you, your fingers twisting in the sheets, and jinx leans down to nip at the junction where your neck and shoulder meet.

“come on. make a goddamn mess,” she encourages.

that’s all you need. with a sharp cry, your spine curls off the mattress and your orgasm slams into you like a freight train. for a minute, all there is is white-hot pleasure, juices coating the toy as you cry out her name like a vice.

“that’s it,” she huffs, hips still rocking into you, although slower. riding you through your orgasm. “you’re so pretty when you fall apart, you know that?”

by the time she comes to a halt, your vision is glazed over. your breathing labored, you look up at her in all of her filthy, wounded glory- unable to do much else but choke out, “goddamn.”

she scoffs in amusement, finally easing out of you. the woman undoes the harness around her hips and tosses it to the same corner your clothes are in, before falling onto the bed beside you. she presses soft kisses to your neck, easing you down, but evidently, the exhaustion of her fight is catching up to her. quickly. 

“you should rest,” you murmur, voice scratchy.

“mmmaybe,” she breathes out. “you gonna let me crash here?”

you really shouldn’t. not after jinx woke you up at an ungodly hour just to fuck you stupid.

at the same time, you’d feel terrible sending her back to her dingy apartment at this time.

Working as a barista, you're used to seeing all sorts of people.

Most times it's just a bunch of early morning adults rushing through with their quick coffee pickup before work or the mid-afternoon college students stopping by for their third/fourth cup of the day to fight off the dark circles under their eyes or the late night studiers trying to consume enough coffee to finish their all-nighters for the upcoming exams.

But you can't please everyone all the time. Some of the people are just downright arrogant.

“Whatever.” They wave their hand in the air, as though swatting away an annoying fly. “Anyway, I need a matcha latte.”

You try to keep the grimace off your face. Not only does matcha taste like grass, matcha is expensive as fuck. And it's always the stuck-up pricks that ask for matcha lattes.

“Yes, anything else?” you ask.

They look you up and down with a scoff. “Did I stutter? yes, that'll be all.”

You grit your teeth, trying to keep from throttling the prick then and there. It's not only just unprofessional, but you'd probably lose your job. And you need this job. You type their order, being careful not to say something rude.

“Great,” they say as they pull out a credit card.

You ring the total up and hand the card back, watching as they slide it back into their wallet.

“And you better get it right this time, it was too hot last time,” you hear them say before taking a seat at a nearby table.

Too hot. The last time you made it for them, you were careful to keep it at the right temperature. But apparently, even that wasn't good enough for that uptight person over there.

You grumble to yourself as you get to work making the matcha latte. Carefully getting the perfect blend of matcha powder and water. Steaming the milk to the perfect temperature, ensuring it isn't too hot for the entitled prick, but also not too cold.

You look at the clock. Only four hours left of this shift. Only four hours.

“You alright?” 

You glance up from shoving your apron into a locker as Jayce, the cafe owner, walks over.

Is it that obvious you're not doing so well? You shrug. “I'm fine. Just glad it's quitting time, y'know?”

You're really not fine. This day was just awful. Between classes, this shift, and the never ending classwork load, you're ready to collapse from exhaustion. But you don't want to bother Jayce with your problems. The guy's already got enough on his plate running this café.

When you shut the locker, you catch Jayce eyeing you with concern, but he doesn't push further. “Speaking of,” he starts, changing the topic. “You'll be getting a new co-worker tomorrow. Maddie's moved to another city.” He leans against a wall, crossing his arms. “Can you show them the ropes? I won't be here tomorrow.”

You give him a weary smile. “Can do.” Sure, training's easy, and showing them how to make coffee and deal with difficult customers isn't that hard. But what if they suck? What if they're lazy? What if they're incompetent?

You sigh, knowing that you're getting ahead of yourself. It's all conjecture right now. For all you know, this new co-worker could be great.

Jayce seems to notice your exhaustion, and he smiles reassuringly. “Get some rest.”

How the hell are you supposed to rest when you still have three classes to stress about, a mountain of classwork, and a new person to train at a job tomorrow?

“Maybe I should,” you reply lazily. You grab your backpack and sling it over your shoulders, giving a tired wave. “See you.”

He waves back. “Have a good night.”

You exit the cafe, a chill wind hitting your face as you step out onto the sidewalk.

Tomorrow is going to suck.

Tomorrow is waking up at the ass crack of dawn, half dead, and dragging yourself to several classes.

Tomorrow is getting bitched out by entitled pricks who need their overcomplicated, overpriced caffeinated crap just to feel awake.

Tomorrow is the same old bullshit.

You're already dreading tomorrow.

Weekends. The two days of respite from the hellhole of college. When you arrive at the cafe on a Saturday morning, the sun is just beginning to rise as you park your bike nearby and make your way inside.

You step through the door and are greeted by Jayce, standing by the counter. And next to him is a blue-haired girl. Must be the newbie.

“Morning,” you greet Jayce with a tired yawn. You set your belongings in the locker before walking over to the counter.

“Morning.” Jayce greets back with a smile, nodding towards the girl. “This is Jinx, the new barista I mentioned,” he tells you, confirming your suspicions.

“Jinx,” you repeat, looking her up and down.

Blue hair with two braids, and a chin-length swoop of hair on the right side of her face. She's probably around your age. Despite the early hour, she looks far too cheerful and energetic.

Jinx's eyes lands on you, and she smiles broadly. “That's me,” she chirps.

You introduce yourself, and Jayce nods in approval. “I've gotta go,” he says, putting on his coat. “I trust you can take it from here.” He pats you on the back as he walks past. “See you later.” And with that, he's out the door.

You turn back to Jinx, noticing her eyes wandering around the café. “So, uh,” you start awkwardly, “have you worked in a café before?”

Jinx snaps her attention to you. “Nope.”

“Okay…that's not a big deal,” you assure her. “I'll just walk you through everything.”

She nods, and you begin the training.

You start by showing her the basics. Operating the coffee machines, explaining the menu, the prices, and the specials of the day. You tell her about the regulars and the usual customers, and she seems to listen closely. 

After the basics, you get to the actual coffee-making. You start with a simple latte. You demonstrate the process, showing her how to prepare the espresso and steam the milk. She watches closely and even tries to mimic your steps.

Her first attempt is messy. The espresso is weak, and the milk isn't steamed right. You point out her mistakes and try to guide her through the process again. She tries again and again, it looks like a mess.

“Here— watch.” You adjust her grip on the pitcher. “You're holding it wrong. Try pouring again.”

Jinx nods and tries once more, this time managing to make a decent pour.

“Not bad,” you praise. “Keep that up and you'll be good in no time.”

She grins, but then her gaze falls to her hands. “Not so sure about that.”

You follow her gaze and spot the multiple band aid wrapped around her fingers. Her band aids seem to almost be covering every single finger. It's a little weird that her bandages cover her fingers of all things. But you don't pry.

She sets the pitcher down, and you turn to glance at the clock on the wall. The clock reads 7:36 AM. It's still early, but the cafe opens at 8 AM.

“Hey,” you begin, “I was thinking…” You motion at the clock. “We still have time before opening. Wanna try making something different?”

She nods eagerly. “Yeah. Sure. Why not?”

“Alright.” You walk over to the cupboard. “What would you like to make?”

“Hmm, something...fun.” Jinx hums, fingers tapping on the counter. “Like matcha?” She shrugs. “It's my favorite.”

Matcha. That disgusting green tea powder that all these rich assholes seem to worship. And if you hear one more person saying it tastes rich or some other dumb bullshit...

You shove down your own disdain for the drink and give her a strained smile. “You like matcha?”

“Yeah. It's delicious!” She's much more energetic than you've ever been.

You open the cupboard and sift through the supply drawers, pulling out the ingredients for a matcha latte. Jinx's eyes lock onto the ingredients that you place on the counter.  “Why do you love matcha so much?”

“Uh, it tastes good! Matcha cake, matcha ice cream, matcha mochi, matcha tea— oh! matcha pudding is really good too.”

She seems very enthusiastic about the drink. So much so that you wonder if she's done an advertisement for it before.

“You know,” you start, measuring out the matcha and starting the water to boil in the kettle. “For someone who seems like they'd be more into sweet and sugary things...you like some stuff like matcha.”

“Eh, I also like sweet stuff, but I like matcha better.” Makes sense. Some people just like different tastes.

The water boils, and you spoon the powdered green tea into a cup and add the steaming water. You stir the matcha in the cup with a whisk. “You've probably had tons of matcha drinks in cafes before, huh?”

You turn to grab a frothing pitcher from the counter, but the bluenette has already snatched it and started foaming the milk. “Yeah, I have. But I've never tried making it myself.”

“Never tried making one yourself?”

She shakes her head. “Nope. I've had a lot of matcha drinks in cafes, but I've never made one myself.”

You finish stirring the matcha in the cup. “Well, at least you haven't broken anything yet. That's a good start.”

Jinx stops frothing the milk, glancing at you. “You mean that? you're not joking?”

“I'm just being honest.”

She hesitantly nods, taking your answer. “If you say so…” She pours the frothed milk into the cup along with the matcha, and you add the finishing touches before giving it to her. She then grabs the cup and looks down at the drink. “It looks good.”

“Well, take a sip.”

Jinx smiles before swallowing the liquid. “I didn't know making matcha was so easy,” she muses, setting the cup down.

“It's not so complicated. Just some boiled water and milk.”

She takes another sip. “So...I could make matcha myself?”

“Yup. If you know how, it's pretty simple.”

“I never knew it was this easy....I've been buying matcha this whole time-”

Then, the bell chimes, interrupting your conversation. The first customer of the day walks in.

“Ahh…” you mutter, turning toward your new co-worker. “You ready?”

Jinx shrugs. “I guess.”

“Just follow my lead and try to keep up,” you tell her, “it should be an easy morning.”

“Easy as pie.”

The first day of work for Jinx was...well, interesting, to put it mildly.

She made a few mistakes—like over-foaming a latte, accidentally giving a customer way too much sugar in their coffee, and almost setting fire to the coffee machine…but it could have been worse.

Some of the customers were patient, kind, and understanding. Others, not so much.

One customer complained that their coffee had too much cream and was way too sweet. Another complained their frappe was melting despite ordering it without ice. Then there was the customer who ordered a ‘coffee flavored coffee’, whatever that means.  And the guy who wanted an Americano with no coffee.

By the end of the day, Jinx looked like a mess, and her apron was covered in coffee stains. You and her both shared a look of exhaustion.

“I had no idea customers could be so…” she trails off, her head in her hands on the counter.

“Frustrating?”

“More like…” she ponders some more.

“Inconsiderate?” you suggest jokingly.

“No, that's too nice.”

“How about…” you pause, mulling over some choice words. “Just plain dumb?”

“Dumb, stupid, idiotic, moronic, blockheaded, imbecilic—” she continues, listing off synonyms.

“You're going to run out of adjectives.”

“I've got plenty.” She lifts her head up, drumming her fingers on the counter. “You have no idea how many words you can use to describe an idiot. I could go on for hours.”

“I'm sure you could, but—”

“Like numbskull! Dolt. Imbecile. Nitwit. Dimwit. Dunce. Jackass. Cretin—”

“Alright, that's enough,” you cut her off before she can start listing the entire dictionary. “I get it.”

Jinx laughs and pushes back her bangs. “I was sooo tempted to dump a whole pot of coffee in a customer's face.”

“You shouldn't be pouring coffee on people, no matter how annoying they are.”

“But just imagine the look on their face when a steaming cup of hot coffee hits them—”

“That's assault.”

“It's self defense if…I'm defending my sanity,” she counters.

“You can't just dump coffee on every annoying customer.”

“Says who?”

“Says the law,” you remind her, “...and Jayce.”

She sighs, flopping onto the counter. “I can't believe people can be this annoying. Like, how hard is it to just be nice to the people who serve you coffee?”

“Eh, well, it's too hard for some people. It's like they wake up in the morning and think… ‘Hmm, I'm going to be a massive jerk to someone working their minimum wage job today.’ And smetimes you just get those customers that you wish…” You gesture with your arm as if to mimic strangling them.

Jinx sits up, mimicking the motion with her own arms. “Or— or… you can poison their drink! Like, just a little bit. Just enough to make them a bit...sick and queasy. Or make it taste gross so they never come back, and they tell all their friends not to come back, and the cafe suddenly gets no business, and we get laid off—” She suddenly stops herself, realizing what she's saying. “I'm not making sense, am I?”

You snort. “Can you imagine the cafe being empty?”

“Mhmm! we could play our own music. Reorganize things. Drink as much coffee as we want,” she says, dropping her arms back to the counter. 

“No stupid customers. No stupid complaints. It sounds like a dream.”

“It does, doesn't it?”

Just as both of you start fantasizing about the dream of an empty café, the sound of the bell above the door rings, signaling the entrance of a new customer.

You look up, assuming it's just another customer ready to order their coffee and then complain about it. But the sight of Jayce walking through the door immediately caught your attention.

“Oh, hey, boss,” Jinx greets.

Jayce approaches the counter, his eyes scanning over the cafe. “Evening, how's the first day?” he asks Jinx.

“Just great.”

Jayce glances at the coffee stain on her apron, the corner of his lip twitching upwards, but he doesn't comment on it. He turns towards you. “And how's the training been?”

You shrug, trying to play it cool. “She's done well—”

“Except for spilling the drinks, the coffee machine almost exploded, accidentally giving customers the wrong orders—” Jinx pipes up, counting on her fingers, “—and me almost assaulting a customer.”

“She's still learning,” you quickly add, “but she's catching on pretty quick.”

Jayce purses his lips. “She almost assaulted a customer?”

“Uh, no, it didn't happen. She was just...venting out some frustration.”

“It was close,” Jinx mutters.

You clear your throat and give her a subtle glare, silently telling her to shut up before she makes it worse, which she luckily gets the hint.

Jayce hums and glances down at the watch on his wrist before looking back up. “Right, you two can head home now. I'll take over closing the shop.”

You and Jinx exchanged confused looks. “You sure? we can help.”

He waves a hand dismissively. “No, no, it's fine. You've both had a long day. Go on, get going.”

You raise an eyebrow, a little suspicious, but you decide not to question it for now. You turn to Jinx. “Come on, let's get our stuff.”

She immediately stands up from her seat. “Holy shit, I'm dying to get out of this apron.”

You wave goodbye to Jayce as you both leave the cafe, heading straight for your parked bike, and climb onto it.

You notice that Jinx is walking a few feet away from you. “You need a ride or something?” you call out.

She turns around, looking at you with a smirk. “Why, are you offering?”

“Unless you want to walk—”

“I'll take that ride.” She walks over, stopping right next to where you're seated on the bike.

“Hop on, then.”

Jinx glances at the back seat, hesitant. You notice that she doesn't have any sort of vehicle either. She bites her lip, contemplating it for a moment, before carefully climbing on the bike. She awkwardly sits behind you, her arms wrapping around your waist and her legs tucked beside your thighs. “You know how to ride this thing fast, right?”

You kick off the ground and begin to pedal. “Of course, I do. I just like being careful.”

“Boooring. Just gun it. I wanna feel the wind in my hair.”

“If I crash this thing, it's your fault,” you joke, picking up speed on the deserted sidewalk. “Where are you headed anyway?”

Her grip tightens around your waist. “The subway.”

“The subway?” you ask, turning the bike towards the direction of the nearest subway station. “You live across the city?”

“Yeah, I live in a shitty area. Easier to use public transit.”

The entire city is shitty. “Why'd you get a job at a cafe so far from where you live, then?” You're genuinely curious.

“Not many other places are willing to hire me.”

“Why?”

She scoffs. “Too crazy. I had a job last summer at a local convenience store.”

“What, did you steal from the cash register or something?”

“Me? fuck no. You think I'd do something that obvious?”

…

…

“Alright, fine. I might have tried to steal some drinks and candy a couple of times. But! my boss was a scumbag who stole money from charity donations. He deserved it,” she explains defensively.

“I'm sure he did,” you reply, trying not to laugh at her defense. After all, she didn't need to justify stealing from a scumbag. Not that a few stolen chocolates really matter in this shithole of a city.

You continue down the sidewalk, making a left turn at a stoplight. Cars honk at you, but neither of you gives them so much as a glance of acknowledgment.

“Besides, those things are way too overpriced anyway,” Jinx continues. “Everything in that damn store was overpriced.”

The subway station is now in view just a few blocks away.

“What happened?” you ask. “You get fired or quit?”

“Both. They fired me, and then I quit.”

“How exactly do you quit after getting fired?”

She laughs a little. “I walked back the next day and quit myself.”

That makes sense...somehow. “But, back to my question, why work so far?”

“Er, I didn't have a choice. Jayce was about the only one that would hire me.”

So it was out of desperation. You could understand that. Everyone had to do what they had to do to survive in this city.

You slow your bike to a stop, parking it outside the entrance to the subway station. You put the kickstand down and hop off the bike. “How long does it take to get to your place?”

“Like...maybe forty-five minutes? sometimes two hours.” Jinx gets off the bike and stretches her arms above her head. “It's not that bad. There's usually an old guy who plays really shitty polka music on the accordion to keep me entertained.”

“Sounds lovely,” you reply sarcastically. “Shitty music and a shitty city.”

She hums, looking around. “So...I'll see you tomorrow?”

Despite the shitty city, the shitty job, you find yourself slightly looking forward to seeing her tomorrow. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

She turns and begins walking towards the stairs that descend into the depths of the subway station, before stopping and turning back around to face you.

“Hey—” she begins, stopping you. “Thanks for the ride, and...you're not so bad. For a coworker.”

You can't resist a smile. “You aren't so bad either.”

“Pft, I don't know. Some people might disagree.” Jinx pauses, studying your face. “See you, partner.”

She gives you one last grin before bounding down the stairs. You watch her disappear into the depths of the subway station. You stare at the empty place where she once was, then turn away and get back on your bike, beginning to pedal away.

You enter the café, eyes still heavy from lack of sleep as you drag yourself through the door, only to be nearly deafened by the sound of loud music blasting from the speakers.

…this isn't the usual song that Jayce plays on the speakers. It's not soft rock, nor is it jazz, or any of those ‘old people’ types of music that he usually has on.

It sounds like…is that heavy metal? Not just any kind of heavy metal, but the really fast-paced, hyper, head-banging kind.

You step inside and spot Jinx, who is currently in the middle of aggressively sweeping the floor.

Within three seconds of seeing you, the bluenette immediately abandons her task of sweeping, bounds over to the counter, grabs a cup, and holds it out to you.

“Mornin' partner!” she greets, a smirk on her face.

Confused, but too tired to question her, you cautiously take the cup from her. “Uhh...morning.” You nod, looking down at the cup. “Thanks.” You take a small, tentative sip.

Matcha. You almost want to spit it out. But you swallow it anyway. After all, it'd be rude to spit out something someone went out of the way to make for you.

The liquid hits your tongue, and it's…different?

Different from how you make it. It's sweet. But oddly, despite its different taste...it's actually kind of good. Good enough to make your morning slightly more bearable.

You set the cup down on the counter, trying to hide how oddly satisfied you feel.

“So?” Jinx asks eagerly, “What do you think?”

“It's... “ Good. The word almost slips out, but you stop yourself, instead clearing your throat and going for a more neutral answer. “Different.”

“Different good or different bad?”

“Different...fine,” you say, lifting the cup back to your lips and taking another sip. That isn't necessarily a lie, right? just because something is different doesn't mean it's good or bad. “What's with all the—” you gesture around, “—loud music?” you ask, changing the topic.

“Oh, that?” She jabs a thumb behind her towards the speaker. “I was bored out of my mind before you got here, so I changed the music.”

The loud blast of drums and guitar fills the café.

“You like it?” she asks.

It's not...bad. Just different. “I don't know if like it is the right term.”

“Mhmm, but it's good for the morning. Helps wake you up, you know?”

You look back at the cup. The taste is still weird, but the flavor is oddly growing on you. “Yeah, I guess so.”

For the next few weeks, every day was the same. Every shift, you stumbled into the café, half-asleep and barely alive, and Jinx would greet you with a cup of matcha latte. She doesn't bother asking if you want one, simply places down your drink and starts her own work in the café.

It's still a drink that normally makes you grimace, but the way she makes it...she makes it different.

It doesn't make your facial muscles twitch anymore. It just tastes better. It's odd, the way that the drink has changed you. The once bitter, almost disgusting taste that you used to dread is now...

Less bitter and somehow not so awful.

You're actually able to drink it without cringing. And you don't know if that should worry you or not.

Though, there's still one burning question on your mind.

“Why do you keep making this?” you ask her one day.

“Hmm?” Jinx glances up from the coffee machine.

“This.” You gesture to the cup in hand. “You always make me matcha lattes.”

She sets her rag down on the counter and leans against it. “And why are you asking?”

“I don't know, it's just—” you pause. Why are you asking? It's just a cup of matcha. Who cares? “Just wondering.”

“Is my matcha that bad?”

“It's not that,” you assure her, shaking your head.

“Then what?” she pries. Why do you care?

You shift a bit on your feet, uncomfortable at her question. Because, it makes you enjoy something that you originally hated. “Never mind,” you mutter, shaking your head again and taking a sip.

She just hums and goes back to her task.

From that point on, you never ask the question again. And she continues making the matcha lattes every shift.

You stand on the subway train, gripping the pole to maintain balance. 

The train is too crowded to find a seat, so you're forced to just stand. It's a little uncomfortable, but not the worst thing you've experienced. You're used to these long commutes. Normally, you would be riding your bike all the way to your campus, but your bike decided to betray you this day, and your tire popped.

You still haven't gotten it fixed. You didn't exactly have the money to fix it yet. Which meant you had to rely on public transport, and getting up earlier. You usually listen to music or daydream to pass the time. But today, no music, and your brain is too tired to think.

So you just stand there, staring vaguely at the people crowding around you. They're all strangers. Most of them are wearing business suits, heading to work. Some of them are students, like you, bags slung over their shoulders, looking equally tired.

A particularly loud sound of rattling metal rings in your ears. You grimace. The subway system is old, outdated, and in need of repair. You can blame the goverment for that.

You're snapped out of your thoughts when the train suddenly jolts to a stop. The doors open with an ear-piercing screech. A group of people file off as a few others get on. You barely pay attention. You focus on the ground, listening to the rhythmic tcha tcha of the wheels on the track.

Just as your thoughts begin to lull, you're suddenly shaken from your tired trance by the feeling of another hand gripping the pole you're holding.

You lift your gaze and—

Jinx?

She stands right across from you, one hand gripping the pole and the other clutching a backpack slung over her shoulder.

“Oh, hey,” she greets, shifting her grip on the pole as the train begins moving again. “What are you doing here?”

“My bike broke,” you mutter. “Flat tire.”

“Aw that suuuuuucks,” she sympathizes. “You gonna get it fixed?”

“When I have the time.” You shift your own grip on the pole. “Or the money.”

You keep a decent distance between your body and Jinx. Your hands don't touch. But she stands close enough that you can see the details of her face.

She is surprisingly freckled. They're not visible unless you look closely, but she has a small smattering of brown spots on the bridge of her nose and across her cheeks. Also, she's wearing makeup. The eyeliner and dark eyeshadow are expected, but she's also wearing something purple-glistened on her lips. It almost looks like—

Her tongue darts out, licking the lip gloss off.

You look at her eyes, and she's looking directly at you. You notice her eyes flitting between your own. You're not sure if she's doing it on purpose or if the staring is some strange coincidence.

“Cars are so damn expensive,” Jinx suddenly says, shifting her gaze at the floor. “I wish I had enough money to buy a motorcycle.”

“You drive?” 

“I mean, no,” she replies, her gaze lifting again. “But if I had a motorcycle, I could finally ditch public transport.”

“You don't like the subway?”

Jinx gives you a look, gesturing around to the crowded subway train. “Does anyone like it?”

You concede. Good point.

She studies you for a moment, eyes drifting over your bag. “Where are you headed?”

“University. You?”

“Same.”

The train jostles, and you both shift the grip on the pole again. Your hands brush against each other, her hand just above yours.

“Which university?” you ask.

“The Academy,” she answers. “Engineering.”

“That's...an expensive university.” 

“Yeah, it is,” she agrees, adjusting her grip again, her hand almost touching yours. “Full ride scholarship.”

“Damn, really? that's pretty impressive.”

Something in her mouth twitches in distaste, but she swallows it down, nodding her head with a smirk. “Thanks.” Her gaze moves across your body, then settles on your hand on the pole. She stares at it for too long before looking away.

“Engineering, huh? you a genius or something?”

“Or something,” she says.

The train lurches again, and her fingers touch yours.

She doesn't move away. You don't move away either. Every slight motion causes her fingers to brush your knuckles or your fingertips.

The train continues moving and the silence stretches on. 

Jinx's eyes are everywhere. It's roaming around the train. But it's also flickering back to you. Then it's roaming again. Then it flicks to your hand.

Then, you catch her staring at your lips. “Nice lips.”

“What?”

“What?”

Who compliments someone on their lips? “You just suddenly said I have a nice lips,” you respond.

She looks away, face turning pink. “Uh, I dunno. I think you have a nice lips.”

Another jolt of the train. Her head whips back to look you in the eye. She still does not move her hand.

“You have nice eyes.” You're not sure what possesses you to say that. It just popped out of your brain and into your mouth.

Jinx narrows her eyes at you and snorts. “You think so?” Her thumb brushes against the back of your hand.

“Yeah,” you say, ignoring the shiver that runs down your back at the touch. “Pretty.”

Pretty? Is that the only word you can think of? The word feels insufficient to describe her eyes. Beautiful, gorgeous, striking. Instead, you just say pretty. Idiot.

Her nose is scrunched up, but it does little to hide the redness of her cheeks.

You keep staring at her eyes. And she stares back. Her eyes flick down again to your lips. She wets her own lips. Her thumb rubs the back of your hand, moving in circles.

The train slows and comes to a stop.

“My stop,” you mutter, dropping your hand and straightening up. “I'll see you later at the cafe?”

“Uuhhh, later,” Jinx responds. “And…”

You raise your eyebrow, waiting for her to finish the sentence. “And...?”

Jinx looks away from you. “Nothing. See you later, partner.”

“Later,” you repeat, then push your way out of the crowded train, feeling her stare follow you.

The sound of the train doors shutting makes you look back.

Jinx is still standing in the same place, watching you leave. Her hand is still on the pole, and she's smiling, her cheeks are still pink. But when she sees you looking, that smile fades, and she quickly averts her gaze.

Then the train pulls away, and she disappears from your view. You're left staring at an empty railway, feeling strangely warm.

The ride to your university passes without much thought. For some reason, your brain is too exhausted to focus on anything but the feeling of Jinx's hand on yours.

And even after you arrive at class, you're still preoccupied with thoughts of Jinx.

No, not preoccupied. More like...preoccupied-adjacent. There is nothing to be preoccupied with.

You just got off the subway with your coworker. Just a normal subway ride. There are hundreds of people every day in the subway. People brush against each other all the time.

Nothing strange about that.

But you can't stop thinking about the weight of her hand on yours. Or the brush of her touch. Or the pinkness of her cheeks. Or the freckles on her nose. Or the lip gloss on her mouth. Or her eyes.

...

Okay, fine, you're preoccupied. 

The cafe is blissfully empty. You take a quick glance around. Only a few customers are sitting at their tables, quietly working on an assignment or studying for their own midterms.

As usual, a cup of matcha latte is pushed into your hands. It's the same old drink, but this time, it's over ice instead of steaming hot.

“New recipe?” you ask, looking at Jinx, who is brewing coffee.

“Trying something new,” she calls back, focusing on the coffee machine in front of her. “You like it?”

You stare at the ice floating around the top of the drink, then take another sip. “It's fine.”

It's more than fine. It's good. The ice makes it a hell of a lot more refreshing.

Jinx glances at you over her shoulder. “Just fine, huh?”

“Yes,” you answer. “Fine.” Delicious

She goes back to messing with the coffee machine, leaving you to stare at the back of her head.

You continue sipping on the latte, savoring the cool drink. It's an improvement over the usual steaming hot drink. The ice makes the flavors blend differently than it usually does, and it's much more tolerable than the hot version.

Delicious. The word echoes in your brain again, but you ignore it, staring into your cup.

Then your eyes wander towards Jinx's position behind the counter.

Her hair tied up in two braids as she fiddles with the coffee machine. Sometimes, her hair will escape the confinement of the hair ties, and it will dangle about her face. She pauses to pull back a strand of loose hair, tucking it behind her ear. Her attention doesn't deviate from her task, not noticing your gaze following her movements.

Your gaze drifts back to your cup. It's getting low. A few ice cubes remain, still bobbing in the liquid.

You take another sip of the latte.

Just fine. Not delicious.

Maybe it's a bit delicious. A little delicious. Is it possible to be half-delicious?

You lick your lips, tasting the remains of the ice-cold matcha latte, and glance back at Jinx.

Damn it. Delicious.

A month has passed, and you can tell Jinx has improved. Maybe even good?

Good enough that she's stopped yelling, stopped breaking, stopped accidentally pouring coffee on the customer's shirt. Good enough that the customer is now enjoying their coffee instead of screaming at her. Even Jayce seems pleased, no longer concerned that Jinx would set the coffee machine on fire.

You set a cup down and look over at Jinx, who is standing by the coffee machine. She's working on latte art and actually managing to do a good job.

You watch as she pulls the milk wand away from the foam, leaving behind a decent…wait, is that a heart? It's just a simple heart, nothing extravagant, but definitely better than all the blobs she'd been trying to pass as latte art weeks ago.

“Not bad,” you comment.

Jinx jumps, nearly causing the matcha to spill over the rim. “Holy shit,” she hisses. “Warn me next time you sneak up on me like that.”

“I didn't sneak up on you,” you defend. “I was standing next to you the entire time.”

“And you still managed to startle me.”

“I did it on purpose.” You smirk. “Just to see you jump.”

She flips you off and turns her attention back to the drink in front of her. “Ass.”

You grab a rag and clean the countertop. “A heart, huh? Trying to impress someone?”

“Maybe I am.”

You lean against the counter, watching her work on the drink. “Who's this lucky person?”

Jinx hums without taking her eyes off the drink. “None of your business.”

“So there is someone?”

She glances at you out of the corner of her eye, and then she shrugs. “Maybe.”

There is absolutely someone. “Is it someone I know?”

“Yes.”

You're not sure how to feel about that. On one hand...well, you're curious about who the hell this person is. On the other hand...you feel...jealous?

No, not jealous. More like annoyed. Yeah…annoyed.

Your hands grip the rag tighter. “Is it someone I know well?” 

“Yes.”

Annoyance continues to simmer inside. Strange. 

Why does this annoying feeling keep poking and buzzing at your brain? maybe because you had someone in mind? someone who you wish she was talking about? or maybe it was just curiosity getting the better of you.

You try to shrug off the annoyance, continuing to clean the countertop.

“What do you think?” she asks, staring at the matcha latte art.

“I already told you it doesn't look bad. You're getting better.”

“I'm always getting better.” She turns the drink towards you, holding it out. “You can taste it if you want.”

You reach over and take the cup from her, your hands brushing against hers. You bring the cup up to your lips and take a sip. The moment the liquid touches your tongue, it's as if all the annoyance evaporates. The drink she makes is always delicious. You manage to swallow before the noise threatens to escape from your throat. “Thanks,” you say, lowering the cup.

Jinx just hums, staring at your lips. “You've got…” she begins, pausing to reach out.

She uses her thumb to gently brush away the remaining foam on your upper lip. Her touch is warm and soft, and you instinctively lean into the touch. Her lips are parted a bit, and you can see her teeth slightly biting into the bottom lip. 

“Foam,” she finishes, pulling back her hand. “All gone.” She wipes her finger on her apron.

You can't explain the heat that crawls up your neck. “Thanks.”

She smiles a little, a strangely satisfied gleam in her eyes. “…eh...no problem.” She continues to stare at you. You're not sure why you're so stuck on just staring at each other without talking, but it's like neither of you has anything to say.

It's almost awkward. But not exactly. Awkward would require you to be uncomfortable.

You're not uncomfortable with her eyes on you. It's kind of comfortable. Like some kind of strange comfort. The kind you get after spending too much time around someone. And you've been around Jinx a lot these past few weeks.

Jinx is the first to break the eye contact by looking away. She clears her throat, staring at the coffee machine next to her. “I'm gonna...make some more coffee…”

And then she just turns and walks away.

You're left standing there, clutching the cup of matcha latte in your hands and staring at the back of Jinx's head as she begins brewing more coffee in the machine.

You're struck with the oddest of desires. You want to go over there, stand next to her, and stare at her face. You want...

You quickly stop yourself.

Why in the hell are you thinking like this? It's a ridiculous thought, that's what it is. You just need some sleep. All this damn thinking isn't going to help anything.

For the rest of your shift, you do your best to avoid looking at Jinx. Unfortunately, you keep finding yourself looking at her anyway.

“Are you gonna help me out, or you're gonna stare at your phone the whole time?” Jinx calls out, breaking your concentration.

You look up from the screen of your phone, then realize you've been scrolling aimlessly for the past ten minutes.

“Ohhh…yeahhhh right.” You set the phone on the counter next to hers. “Sorry,” you apologize, beginning to help her with the remaining closing tasks.

The café closing hours are always calm and relaxing. Usually, Jayce is there helping, chatting to you and Jinx. But tonight, Jayce is out doing something important, leaving just you and Jinx to close the café.

This isn't the first time. The two of you have closed the cafe together on several occasions.

You grab a towel and begin wiping down the tables and chairs. Jinx sweeps around the floor, humming something as she works.

When you're both finished cleaning, you and Jinx move to the last step of closing.

You start by putting up the chairs on the tables, stacking them neatly around so they don't collect any dust overnight. She helps as well, putting up her share of chairs, then begins straightening up the chairs as you finish with yours.

Soon, all the chairs are organized on top of the tables, and the café is as tidy as a mouse's ass.

You walk over behind the counter and grab the boxes full of new cups from a low shelf. “Can you help me with this?” you ask, lifting the box and nodding at the other one.

She comes over and helps you, carrying it into the storage room. You trail after her, watching her as she places the box gently on top of the other boxes.

The storage room is a small room connected to the cafe, used to store supplies. The walls, made of concrete, are painted yellow. Inside, the room is tidy, neat, and somewhat small. The floor and walls are covered with several industrial metal racks, stacked with boxes of supplies. A single light bulb hangs from the center of the ceiling, illuminating the room.

You pause and set your box down as well.

“I swear, Jayce is way too paranoid about restocking,” she says, glancing around.

You nod. “He's definitely got a bit of a hoarding problem.”

“He'll probably start to fill up the back next.”

“And then he's gonna fill the manager's office.”

“And the bathroom.” She snickers, looking over the boxes. “I swear to god, he needs a damn therapist for this obsession.”

You share a laugh and turn towards the door, Jinx following behind you.

“Well, guess everything is in order—” you start to say, but pause when you turn the doorknob and find that it's locked. You frown and try pulling the knob again. It still doesn't budge.

“What the hell?” Jinx comes up beside you and grabs the knob, rattling it a few times. She stops after a few seconds and tries again, but still no luck. “Fuck!” she exclaims, tugging the knob. “Why won't this stupid thing open?!”

“It's damn well jammed.” You kick the door, which does absolutely nothing.

“That's...not good,” she mutters. “I guess this is one of the cons of having a paranoid boss.”

There are no windows into this room, and Jayce won't be back until tomorrow. The only way out is through the door, and it's clearly not budging.

“Looks like we're trapped,” you deadpan.

“Of-fucking-course.”

“Guess we're stuck here until tomorrow.”

She grunts. “Great, just great. What are we going to do— wait, do you have your phone?”

“I do, but…” You search your pockets, realization dawning. “I think I left it on the counter.”

She pats her pockets too, and her face falls. “Ugh, same.”

There's a beat of silence as you both process this new information…you're screwed.

Jinx slides down the wall until she's sitting on the cold concrete. Her eyes glance at the other boxes, then back to you. “Are you just going to stand there?”

You sigh and slowly lower yourself next to her. “Guess not.”

“This sucks.” She pulls her knees up to her chest.

You look at the storage room around you. There's not much in the storage room. It's all supplies: cups, espresso beans, various syrups, milk—

Oh, milk.

“At least we have food,” you say, pointing at the several cartons of milk stacked on one shelf.

Jinx glances at the milk and scoffs. “Yeah, if we plan on having heart disease. We'll be dead before anyone remembers we're locked in here.”

“Can't you just be a tad...optimistic?” you mutter. “Like you usually are?”

“I'm only optimistic when I'm caffeinated. Now I'm tired and miserable.”

The two of you go back to sitting in silence.

You take a quick glance around the storage room again, noting how bare it is. It's cold in here. No carpet or insulation. Just two people, three days' worth of food, and an uncomfortable concrete floor.

Jinx looks up at the ceiling, probably wondering if this is how her life ends.

“Stop sulking,” you say.

“I'm not sulking.”

“Yes, you are. You can stop being gloom and doom now, it's not that bad.”

“Oh yeah? it's not that bad? we're literally stuck in an empty storage room with nothing to do. Not to mention this floor is cold and uncomfortable—”

“Then sit closer. It'll be warmer,” you interrupt her rant. The moment the words escape your mouth, you realize how it could be interpreted.

You clear your throat awkwardly. No, it's not that bad. It's not intimate or anything. You're not, y'know, trying to be close. It's just practical. Yes. Practical.

Her gaze flicks to the ground between you, and she shuffles closer, sighing. You watch silently as she scoots over, closer and closer, until your shoulders are touching. Neither of you speaks for a few moments, both of you focusing on the door in front of you.

“Do you think ghosts are real?” she asks suddenly.

You turn your head to look at her. “Yeah, I think there's someone watching us in that corner.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, really.” You gesture to the darkest corner. “I think I just saw something move.”

She turns her head, staring at the far corner of the storage room. “Really?”

“Yep.”

Both of you stare at the corner for a few seconds. Nothing happens. The corner is completely still. Not a single speck of dust is moving.

Jinx huffs and turns to glare at you. “I hate you.”

You huff in return. “The hell did I do?”

“You're trying to scare me.”

“Maybe I am.”

“If a goddamn ghost really is watching us—”

You cut her off. “What exactly are you worried about?”

“I— I don't know,” she stammers indignantly, “I just— ugh, whatever.”

“I mean, it's not like they'll do anything.”

Jinx gives you a dubious look. “I bet they're already judging me.”

You grin at the thought. “Oh, definitely. I can feel them judging you right now.” You gesture at the dark corner again. “See that? that's Jessica.”

“Jessica?” she repeats.

“Yes, Jessica,” you say with a grin. “She died here and has been here a long time, waiting for the next victim.”

She eyes the corner again. “I can't see anything. Not sure if the ghost is real.”

“She's real, alright. Watch this.” You point at the corner. “Jessica, give her a jumpscare.”

She looks back and forth at the corner, then back at you. “What—” She's cut off when you suddenly poke her side. “AHK—” she yells, jerking away from you. “You—!”

You grin at her. “See? Told you Jessica's real.”

“Are you trying to kill me?” she accuses, shoving you in the chest. “I hate you, you are the worst, motherfucker—”

“Jessica said you should watch your language.”

Jinx swivels her gaze back to the corner. “Jessica can go suck my dic—”

“Jessica said you shouldn't talk to the dead that way.”

She gives you another indignant glare. “Jessica can eat my ass.”

“Ohhhhh, Jessica didn't like that.”

She looks at the corner again, trying to look intimidating. “Jessica, I don't like you.”

“Jessica said she's heartbroken.”

Jinx tries to kick your leg, but you dodge playfully. “Jessica's a damn liar.”

“Maybe Jessica should haunt you for the rest of your life,” you say, still grinning.

She scoffs, turning to look at you. “I bet it's worse to get haunted by a ghost than see a dead body,” she mutters, coughing.

Her words catch you off guard, and you look away, suddenly feeling guilty about joking with her. “Yeah.” You try to think of anything else to say. “Um. Sorry.”

She shrugs. “It's fine. It's just a stupid joke.”

Silence falls between you again, and you stare at the ground, not knowing what to say.

“What if…” you start after an awkward silence, “What if you're being haunted by someone you like forever. I mean, would it be better to get haunted by someone you like instead of…you know, someone you hate.”  

Jinx hesitates. “Uh... probably... yeah.”

“Yeah?” you repeat. “And who would you want to be haunted by?”

“No one,” she quickly respond. “I mean, it's not like I want to get haunted, I just think it would be better if I did.”

There's a beat of silence as the two of you sit, listening to the nothingness of the storage room.

“What if I haunted you?” she asks.

“You?”

Her eyes whip over to you. “Yeah, me.”

“You want to haunt me?”

“Why not? If I had to haunt someone, why wouldn't I pick you?”

You blink. “Why would you pick me?”

“Is a good reason really needed?” she asks, looking away from you. “Maybe I just want to be around you.” She says it nonchalantly, as if she's stating a fact.

A fact that makes no sense to you. Why would she want to stay with you? “That makes literally no sense.”

Her knees bumps against yours. “Does it need to make sense?”

“Yes.”

“Why does it need to make sense?”

“Because— because you don't get to just say things and expect me to understand—”

“Bullshit.” A retort is on the tip of your tongue, but she cuts you off again before you can respond. “Just answer this.”

“Answer what?”

“If I said I wanted to stay with you all the time, would that make sense to you?”

“Well, yeah. That makes sense. You already hang around me—”

“No, not just when we work. I mean—” Jinx stops, staring at the floor in an attempt to avoid your gaze. “I want to…to…be with you.”

“You're already with me,” you say. “We're literally stuck in a storage room together.”

She sighs exasperatedly. “No, I mean, I want to always be with you.” There's a pause. “And…if that means haunting you, then I'd want to haunt you.”

Your brain stops. What? She wants to be with you all the time? As in...always?

...

The floor is suddenly very interesting. You stare at the concrete, trying to process the words that just escaped her mouth.

“Why?”

”Why what?”

Your voice is too fast. “Why would you want—”

“Because I enjoy your company,” she interrupts you quickly, “and you probably wouldn't mind if I was around.” She stares at her fingernails. “I'm just saying, it'd be pretty nice. Spending eternity with you.”

Something in your chest tightens at those words.

Spend eternity with you.

It dawns on you that you're feeling something that you haven't experienced before. Or maybe you've felt it before, on rare occasions. The feeling of your heart beating too fast, for no reason.

Your eyes dart to your hand, lying on your right leg. Her knee brushes against yours again. You look away from your legs and stare at her face.

She's still staring down at her fingers.

In the dim light of the storage room, her face is almost glowing. She looks beautiful. How can someone look so perfect, even when talking about such disturbing things?

Huh. It's strange. Someone who looks so beautiful, talking about something so disturbing.

She tucks a strand of blue hair behind her ear, eyes not lifting from her fingers.

You feel the urge to touch her.

Not in a weird way. But to feel the smoothness of her skin on your hand. To feel her hair run through your fingers. To…you don't know. Just feel her.

“Why—” you start, your voice too loud. You stop talking. Why are you trying to say something?

She glances up and stares back at you. “Hmm?”

“Why me? I mean...there are a lot of people in this shitty city or shitty world, so why would you like to stay with me?”

Her knee brushes against yours again, and she scoots closer, resting her head on your shoulder. “I don't care about the world. I just want you.”

Everything in the storage room seems to disappear. The boxes that surround you have disappeared. Everything melts away, except for the girl, resting her head on your shoulder, and the words that she speaks to you. Just the two of you, in a room of shadows.

“You wouldn't mind, do you?” Her words rip you out of your thoughts.

“Mind what?”

“Spending an eternity with me.” 

You lick your lips again. Your mouth is completely dry. Your throat is dry too. Your brain is going stupid.

You aren't sure why. It's just...the implication of her words. Of eternity with Jinx.

With the woman who made a shitty job less shitty. With the woman who somehow made you look forward to the drink that you hated so much, all because she makes it differently. With the woman who taught you that there are some things, even disliked things, that can grow on you.

You realize you're smiling and quickly attempt to return a neutral expression.

You glance down at her head, right below your chin.

You imagine living with her constantly. Stuck with her. For eternity.

It would drive any sane person mad.

You aren't a sane person.

“I wouldn't mind spending an eternity with you,” you hear yourself saying.

You can feel her smile even though you can't see it. She shifts on the floor, and suddenly her hand is sliding across the space between you. Her fingers are brushing against your arm, slowly creeping down as if to find yours.

“That's good.” Her hand finally finds yours, she stops for a second, and then she slowly intertwines your fingers together.

You move your thumb across her knuckles, tracing the lines and veins. You'd thought about holding her hand once before. You'd never thought that it would make breathing so much more difficult.

Her thumb starts doing the same, tracing over your knuckles.

You glance at her hand, interlocked with yours. You stare at the bandages as Jinx continues to trace over your veins, the pads of her fingers soft and delicate as they brush against your skin.

Her hand is so gentle and yet also so rough at the same time. Rough, because you can feel the callouses, the slight scrapes across her knuckles. Gentle, because even with her rough skin, her hand still touches you so softly.

What would it be like, being with her forever? Always.

Would the moments like this become mundane? would it get old? holding her hand and sitting in a storage room, talking with her?

She pulls her head away from your shoulder and looks fully at you.

You notice how close she is. You could easily reach out and touch the strands of hair that fall over her forehead. Her eyes are dilated, looking at you with what can only be affection.

You realize how easy it would be to kiss her.

“I wouldn't mind it either.” Her eyelashes flutter, and her gaze darts to your lips. You feel a heat grow in your chest. Your own eyes drift to her lips, slightly parted.

You aren't sure who leans in, but one of you is shifting forward.

She swallows, and her tongue flicks out to wet her own lips. You find yourself unconsciously copying their movement.

You think about how her lips would feel. Soft? Warm? What would it taste like—

And then she turns her head away from you and back into the corner, clearing her throat awkwardly. You clear your throat as well, trying to think of something else to focus on.

Anything but how close her lips were to yours.

She squeezes your hand briefly before letting go. The loss of her touch leaves a cold feeling on your skin. “Uh—” her voice is slightly hoarse, “is Jessica still there?”

The next few days went by in a dull routine, one that you quickly fell back into. Wake up. Go to class. Study. Work. Classwork. Get some sleep.

It was just like the rest of any normal week, except one thing had changed.

Jinx.

Or rather, the lack of Jinx. 

She hadn't shown up to work. You don't know why, but the fact that you arrived at work and she wasn't there to hand you a matcha latte was definitely odd.

You had gotten used to the smell of her matcha assaulting you the minute you stepped into work, to the point where the smell of coffee beans seemed unusually bland.

And now there was just coffee.

Even the matcha latte you had made yourself didn't taste the same. You're not sure why you had decided to make yourself a matcha latte.

It's stupid to do. You hate matcha, you've always hated it.

And yet...

No amount of sugar can seem to make it sweet, like Jinx somehow does. Nothing seemed to taste the same without her. Matcha, bitter. Coffee, bland. Café, boring.

Everything had suddenly, and quite inexplicably, felt wrong…like…

The sugar in the cabinet was suddenly moved to a new place, and you couldn't remember where the hell it was now because it wasn't where it was before.

You look at the clock. Only four hours left of this shift. Only four hours.

“Oh, did you not hear? Jinx is sick,” Jayce says. “She called saying she was sick, probably not coming in for a week or so.”

“Sick?” you echo.

“Yeah, she didn't sound too good.” He shakes his head as he continues making coffee. 

“When did she call?” 

He pauses what he's doing. “Uh...about a couple days ago.”

She called in over a couple days ago, and you're only being told now. “Couple days…” you repeat, just to clarify. “Why are you just telling me now?”

“I thought you knew?”

“No, I didn't.”

Jayce looks mildly annoyed as he finishes up a customer's order. “She told me she talked to you about it.”

“She talked to me? When?”

“Are you telling me she didn't talk to you?”

“She didn't. Not one word.”

He finishes the order and hands the coffee to a customer. “That's weird. You guys are close, I thought she would've told you that she was sick.”

Close. That's the word that sticks in your head when he says it. Close enough where she would've told you something as big as not being able to come to work for a week. Right? but she didn't tell you anything.

“She didn't tell me anything,” you say.

He scratches his chin. “Maybe she forgot to tell you?”

“Maybe.” Maybe. 

Or maybe she was avoiding you. Maybe she just didn't want to talk to you. Maybe she suddenly had an epiphany about how you were close. Maybe she just didn't want to be close anymore. Maybe she got scared and regretted it.

But that makes no sense.

If she regretted it, why would she have held your hand so tightly? why would she have said that you were the person she wanted to spend an eternity with? why would she say it like it was something she had thought about for a while?

“Maybe you should go check up on her?” Jayce suggests, shaking his head like he can sense your train of thought going off the rails.

“Check up on her?”

“Yeah, she might appreciate some company. Someone to look after her while she's sick.”

“I'm not sure if—” you begin, but you're cut off by Jayce.

“Come on, it'd be nice for her,” he urges. “She doesn't have anyone else around to check up on her.”

You remember her telling you that her family died in an accident when she was a kid, and she lives alone. She also mentioned that her sister is in prison.

Yeah, maybe you should go check on her. After all, why wouldn't you? it would be a perfectly reasonable thing to do. You cared enough about her to go see how she was doing. You care about her, so it only makes sense to go check on her.

“Yeah,” you say, “I'll go see her.”

“Alright. I can handle the rest of the shift if you want to go.”

The entire commute there is a test of your sanity.

It takes nearly two hours to finally reach her address. The commute filled with cramped subway trains and waiting in pouring rain for buses to show up. Your hair is wet and sticking to your face.

Carrying a bag of the matcha sweets she liked was easy enough, but the latte was a little more difficult. It kept sloshing in the cup and threatening to spill over the edge with every step you took. Still, you managed not to dump the drink all over yourself.

By the time you finally arrived at her apartment, all you wanted to do was collapse in a chair and take a nap for the rest of the year.

And it was only 4:35 in the afternoon.

You look at the piece of scrap paper that Jayce gave you with Jinx's address on it. Fifth floor, room 505.

With a weary groan, you take the stairs. The elevator is broken, and there's no way in hell you're taking that janky elevator. You feel like it might just get stuck halfway and drop you to your death.

When you reach her floor, you're pretty sure you're ready to die. You walk around the hall and look at the first few doors.

500... 501... 502… 503... 504...

You pass a group of teenagers who walk past you with their phones out, shouting at the top of their lungs and shoving each other around. A baby is crying in some apartment as you pass the door, and a dog is barking from behind another.

505.

You eye the door, taking a moment to catch your breath and try to straighten out your wet clothes. Here goes nothing.

You knock on the door. No answer at first. You knock again. Nothing.

You knock louder, hoping to get some kind of response. It's another solid minute of no answer, and you're getting increasingly annoyed. She's either asleep or—

The door suddenly opens.

“Yeah, who—” Jinx starts but then stops speaking entirely when she sees you. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

She's wearing a threadbare gray t-shirt that hangs off one of her shoulders and barely comes anywhere close to covering any of her thighs. She has a tissue shoved into her nose and dark circles around her eyes. Her hair is messy, unbrushed, and unkempt.

Is this really the same person who had been handing you daily lattes every day for two months?

“Well, that's a hell of a greeting.” You shift your bag and the nearly spilled latte to your other hand.

She's looking at you like you've done something wrong— actually, she's looking at you like she's trying to kill you with just a stare.

You hold up the bag. “Brought food.”

“You shouldn't be here,” she spits out before slamming the door shut.

…wow. That was a warm welcome.

All you wanted to do was give her food and check to see if she was ok. She was sick, alone, and she probably didn't have anything to eat. And she just slammed the door in your face?

Screw this. You turn around ready to leave but stop when you hear the door creak open.

“Hey.” You turn and look over your shoulder. The door is open, but only slightly. Jinx peeks her head out the door, glaring at you. “What kind of food?”

Not the kind of apology you're hoping for, but you'll take it. “Matcha sweets and a latte that I made.”

“That actually sounds—” she cuts herself off and sniffles, “...alright.” She opens the door all the way and turns to go back into the apartment. “Come in or leave, but don't just stand there like an idiot.”

You scoff and step inside, cautiously shutting the door behind you.

The first thing you notice is the smell. It doesn't smell exactly like garbage, but it stinks of old clothes and day-old food. It's not quite disgusting, it's not quite nice, but it reeks. Like someone hasn't opened a window and aired out the apartment in a while.

The next thing you notice is how much everything there is. Clothes sprawled over the couch, cans of energy drinks strewn across the floor, boxes of takeout littering the kitchen counters.

“Make yourself at home,” she says sarcastically, kicking a pile of clothes out of the way so you can sit on the couch. She pulls a tissue out of her nose and tosses it onto the floor.

You tentatively take a seat on the couch, shifting the latte and bag to the coffee table. Your eyes dart around the room as Jinx continues to shove things off the couch and onto the floor.

The entire wall beside the couch is covered in papers, notes, and equations. It looks like a bunch of chemical compounds and designs.

She doesn't seem to notice you staring at the wall as she collapses onto the other end of the couch.

There are a few diagrams of rockets and some drawings of the coffee shop. Drawings of her and her deceased family, her deceased friends, and a drawing of… 

Wait— 

Is that your face? 

A drawing of your face is taped to the wall, scribbled with notes around it. ‘Nice lips.’

“What the—” you start, tilting your head to get a better look.

Jinx looks at you, noticing where you're staring, then follows your line of sight. She immediately turns red. “Oh. Uh—” she stutters, sitting up. 

“Did you—”

“It's nothing,” she says quickly, jumping off the couch. She scrambles towards the wall, tearing off the drawing. “Just a— just a quick sketch. It means nothing.” You're fairly sure it means something, but you don't get the chance to press her further as she rips the paper apart and throws it into the trash can, avoiding your gaze. “Anyway—” she says, plopping back down on the couch, “—I bet the food's good, right?”

Food...right. That was the whole point of coming over in the first place. “Uh...yeah.”

You watch as she grabs the latte and takes a sip. “Ugh, this is too bitter.” Jinx sets down the latte and pushes it away from her. “What'd you put in this? It tastes like dirt.”

“The same stuff I always put in it,” you respond, slightly annoyed at the insult to your latte making abilities.

She shrugs and picks up one of the matcha sweets instead. “Might as well teach you how to make one when I'm back.” You watch her chew the sweets, then pause, letting out a sniffle, then reach up to wipe her nose with the back of her hand. “Why exactly are you here?” 

“Jayce told me you were sick.”

“I'm not— wait, Jayce told you that?”

“Yeah, he did.”

“Why were you even listening to him?”

“Because I was worried about you.”

She turns to grab another tissue and shoves it into her nose. “I'm not sick...just busy.”

You pointedly look around. “Uh huh,” you grumble, “Doing what exactly?”

“Stuff.”

“Stuff like—” you gesture to the entire mess. “—this?”

“It's my finals, idiot.”

“So, no one's been cleaning up?” you ask, eyes darting around again in the apartment.

“I don't have time,” she complains, before letting out a deep cough and clutching her chest in pain. “I have more important things to do. Besides, do I look like I can clean when I can't even breathe through my damn nose right now?” Jinx sniffs, then reaches for another matcha sweet, her hair falling over her face.

You give her a sidelong glance. “You look like you're about to keel over.”

“Don't be dramatic.”

“I'm not,” you say, reaching out a hand to touch her forehead, checking for a fever.

She swats your hands away. “Don't touch me.”

You retract your hand. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. Why are you even here anyway? You don't have to worry about me.”

“I know I don't have to.”

“Then just go. I'm busy.”

You groan. “You're sick. You need, like, I don't know, someone to take care of you.”

“I'm fine—” She coughs again. “I just need to—” Another dry cough, and she grabs another tissue. “I just need to—” another cough, “—finish my—”

“You need to rest.”

“I can't rest.”

“Why not?”

“Because I'm behind.”

“What is it?”

She pauses, then reluctantly gestures to the mess on the wall. “I'm trying to design something, and it requires a lot of diagrams and calculations.”

So that's what all those equations and numbers and notes are. But that doesn't explain why her apartment is such a wreck.

“And that's why you haven't cleaned up?” you ask.

Jinx glares at you, then tosses the used tissue. “How would you react if you had a deadline, and you were on the verge of throwing up?”

“I know you're stressed, but—”

“You don't know anything!” she snaps all of a sudden, standing up and looking you dead in the face.

“Seriously, what's your problem?”

“My problem is that you're here when you shouldn't be—”

“I'm here because I was worried about you. You—”

“Well, you shouldn't be. I don't want your help.”

“You don't want my help,” you repeat slowly.

“You heard me.”

You bite your tongue and take a deep, slow breath. “Then…” you manage to choke out, “...whose help do you want?”

“Nobody's. I don't need anyone's help. I've done just fine for years. I can do it myself.”

But you shouldn't have to. 

She continues as she walks towards her bedroom. “I'm sick and tired and trying to finish something that's due in a few days, and I don't need you to come barging in, trying to—” She stops, clutching her chest and coughing again.

“You should be resting and taking it easy,” you coax, standing.

“I would be resting and taking it easy if you weren't here.”

You freeze, feeling yourself grow cold.  You know she's just cranky, that she's sick and upset that she's stuck like this, that her deadline is near, and that you're just the person who happens to be around.

“Sorry,” you mumble, “didn't know you wanted me gone.”

Jinx opens her mouth, hesitating, before nodding her head firmly. “I'm sick, and I need to finish some work. So just do me this one favor and get out.”

Her words are harsh, more harsh than you think you can handle.

But even more than the fact they were words of rejection and anger, what hurt was the feeling that those words were coming from the same woman who had, just days earlier, curled against you, told you that you were the one she wanted to spend an eternity with.

“Fine,” you say quietly, “If that's what you want.”

Jinx looks at you, and you swear for a second you think you see her expression soften, but then she nods her head again. “Yeah, that's what I want.”

You glance around at the mess of diagrams and paperwork plastered on the walls, the trash littered everywhere, and the couch that looked like it hadn't been slept on in days.  “I'll see you at work,” you say lamely, turning away and walking towards the door.

She doesn't say a word to stop you. You open the door, and you want her to say something to stop, a please, a wait, but nothing comes.

With one last glance back at her, you leave.

“That was…” Jayce starts, pausing. “Did she even listen to you?”

“She was more dead set on booting me out of there.”

He lets out a breath. “She's stubborn.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “And stupid as hell.”

“But she's unwell,” he continues.

“Doesn't give her an excuse to say that I shouldn't be there.”

“True.” He looks over at you. “You look upset.”

You scoff. “Of course I'm upset. I show up to see how my friend is feeling, and her immediate response is to kick me out. Like she doesn't want me anywhere near her.”

Jayce frowns. “Don't take it too personally. She's not trying to hurt you on purpose. I'm sure that once she's feeling better, she'll apologize.”

She did not, in fact, apologize.

It's been over a week since you visited her. Jinx isn't sick anymore and isn't busy with finals, she's back to how she usually was. She talks, she laughs, she jokes but never looks in your direction, no word, no greetings…and not once does she ever slide a cup of matcha in your direction like she used to.

Whenever she works with you, she keeps things strictly professional. Her hands never accidentally brush against yours, and she never stands closer than necessary.

You've tried giving her space, hoping she'd approach you when she was ready to talk it out. But the space never got filled.

It's like, in a single day, you went from being almost something to nothing.

Jayce calls out your name from the counter as you wipe down the tables.

“What?” you call back, watching as Jayce walks over to you. 

He nods towards Jinx, who is currently chatting with a customer. “When are you going to talk to her?”

“When are you going to stop being so nosy?”

He snorts. “I want to help you two sort this out. She's too stubborn, and so are you.”

“She doesn't want to talk to me,” you reply.

“Because you both are too proud.”

“Or I just don't want to go chase after her when it's clear she doesn't want to talk to me.”

Jayce sighs. “Look, you're my friend, I want to help you work it out.”

“She doesn't want to talk, Jayce,” you say firmly. “I don't know how to fix this if she's ignoring me.”

“That's the point, you have to make her talk.”

“Yeah, make a girl talk who probably wants me dead right now.”

“She doesn't want you dead. Do you think it's a coincidence that she makes a point to talk to all the other regulars?”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

He lifts his shoulders. “I'm just saying, every time you're here, she tends to talk more to the customers, especially the male ones.”

“Are you saying she's flirting now?”

“No, I'm saying she's doing it for your attention.”

“Why would she be doing it for my attention? She made it pretty clear she doesn't want me around.”

He throws his arms up. “Because she wants you to get jealous. She wants you to react to it. She wants you to get mad and do something about it.”

“How would you know?”

“Maybe the fact that she's been glancing at you every five minutes for the past hour?”

“...she's not.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Stop saying that, I see her right—” and your sentence cuts off as your eyes flick over to where Jinx is, she's still talking to a customer.

The customer leans closer to her and says something that clearly makes her laugh. Her eyes dart in your direction as she laughs. She's definitely looking at you. Jayce is right, she is looking at you. Her laughter dies at the same time her eyes lock on yours. She averts her gaze the moment she sees that you caught her.

“See?” Jayce says, “She keeps looking at you. She's doing it for your attention, not anyone else's.”

“Okay, so let's say she's doing it for my attention,” you continue. “What am I supposed to do about it? You said it yourself, she's stubborn.”

“You're going to have to do something that gets her attention. Make her upset, make her angry, make her do something. She won't talk unless you push her to.”

You stare at him. “Are you really implying what I think you're implying?”

He grins smugly. “That depends, what do you think I'm implying?”

“You're asking me to make her jealous.”

“I'm not asking you to do anything,” he retorts. “I'm suggesting you do it because it'll work. Do you want to continue like this, ignoring each other, for god knows how long? or do you want to get this sorted out?”

It sounds absurd. Ridiculous. Stupid. Immature. But if it makes her talk to you… “You really think it'll work?”

He grins knowingly. “Oh, it'll definitely work.”

It was a really stupid idea. But Jayce was pretty adamant about it, and you were a bit too desperate.

You're trying your best to not scratch at the sleeve of this stupid shirt that Jayce forced you to wear. It's a dark blue long sleeve. Jayce claimed to have worn it on a ‘date,’ and it ‘worked’ with the person he was trying to date at the time. Now, you're the one wearing it.

“This is stupid.”

“No, it isn't,” Jayce insists from behind the counter. “It'll definitely work.”

“It's dumb.”

“Will you just do it?” He huffs. “She's going to be here soon.”

There's no way in hell this would work. It's just a shirt. There's no way that Jinx would-—

The bell on the cafe door rings as it opens.

Jinx is walking through the door. She spots the counter where Jayce and you are, and she stops for a second.

She takes a look at you from head to toe, her gaze lingering longer on the dark blue shirt, and then she forcefully looks away from you and begins walking towards the break room where the lockers are.

Jayce elbows you in the side. “See? It's working—”

You elbow him back. “She just went to the break room, how is that working?”

“That was just the first step. Wait and see.”

You stand by the coffee machine, waiting for it to finish brewing a drink for a customer. Jinx is on the other side, making a different drink.

The machine's steam causes the sweat on your lower forearms to be sticky, causing the cloth to cling to your skin, and so you roll them up slightly, just above the elbow.

You make a point to not look at her, but you feel her attention fall onto your forearms, her eyes trailing down to the way your arms look, seeing the cloth of the shirt clinging from the sweat. At the corner of your eye, you see her biting her lip, her breath hitching, and there's a subtle flush on her cheeks.

Jinx looks away the second she realizes that you caught her staring at your arms, but it was enough for you to know that she was.

It's working. Damn it, it's actually working.

You feel her breath on the back of your neck as she reaches behind you for the coffee machine, her body just barely brushing against your back.

Jinx quickly pulls away, going back to her end of the counter. “It's really hot in here,” she mumbles.

You nod, picking up a towel and wiping some sweat off your neck, lifting the collar of your shirt to wipe off your collarbone. “I know, the air conditioning really sucks.”

Jinx stares at you, eyes traveling down your neck to your collarbone. “It's hot in here…” she repeats. Then, she swallows and looks away with a cough, the steam from the machine giving a good excuse for the redness on her face. “Yeah, it really sucks.”

It goes on like that. Glances are stolen. Awkward touches are exchanged. The air seems to grow hotter every time you're near her.

You're surprised neither of you have passed out from heat exhaustion yet.

“Are you free this Friday..?” The customer in front of you asks.

You're well aware of the fact that Jinx is behind you. You can hear her moving around. “Uh, I—” you stop, trying to ignore the eyes that are boring into your skull. “Yeah. Why?”

“Do you have a…” she trails off and glances over your shoulder, “Girlfriend?”

Jayce coughs obnoxiously beside you as he wipes the countertop. You almost give him a look, but instead, you shake your head. “No, I'm single.”

There's a loud bang behind you. Jinx bumps something, and whatever it is clanks against the floor.

“Really?” she continues, her voice raising a tone. “A pretty girl like you doesn't have a girlfriend?”

Jayce says something under his breath, and you swear you hear a muttered “ yet. ”

You ignore him and respond to the customer. “Uh, you think I'm pretty?”

The customer looks you up and down, her eyes stopping just below your chest before slowly trailing down. “Yeah, you're pretty hot.” She leans forward, resting her hand on the counter and showing off way more skin than what most would consider decent.

“Ah, thank you,” you say politely, forcing your gaze to stay on the customer's face and not...anywhere else. “You're pretty yourself.”

There's another clang behind you.

The customer laughs and twirls a strand of her hair. “I bet you say that all the time.”

“Not really,” you reply, keeping your eyes trained away from her. “I don't really—”

You're interrupted suddenly by Jinx, grabbing something from the shelf. She leans in closer, her chest almost brushing against your arm as she grabs something.

It's the first time she's been so close to you in weeks.

She leans back, holding a container of matcha powder—the same one she always uses to make your latte—and she looks you in the eye. “You want your latte, right?” she asks you. She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes.

Yes. You miss her matcha latte so much. “No,” you force yourself to say, avoiding her eyes.

“Oh,” she says, she sounds surprised? “Really?” She looks down at the matcha powder, running a thumb over the label, and looks back up at you.

Don't look at her. “Yeah, I...I don't want one,” you lie.

“Are you sure? It's been a while since you had my matcha latte.”

You want one so much. You want her to smile and be carefree and make you a latte that will warm you down to the core, but— “I'm sure,” you lie again. “I'm good.”

“That's...that's a shame.”

“Yeah.” You want to punch yourself because no, it's not a shame, it's a sin. You are an idiot.

She's just a few inches away, and all you want to do is reach out for her, take her into your arms, and make her look at you, but she looks at the matcha in her hands. “Guess I wasted this then,” she mumbles before putting the container back and starting to take orders from the other customers.

“Idiot,” Jayce mutters, and you elbow him hard in the gut. He doubles over, clutching his stomach, and you turn back to the customer.

“Uh… anyway,” you say, then turn your attention back to the customer, forcing yourself to smile. “What were you saying?”

After a long shift, the café is finally empty, and the cleanup is done. You've mopped up the floors, put everything away, you're starting to get all nice and sweaty, and the break room has a much-needed air conditioner.

You open your locker and shoved your apron inside, sweat clinging to your shirt and making it cling to your skin. You grimace and reach down, trying to fix the collar of the shirt that feels tighter than normal.

Before you have a chance to readjust it, a glimpse of something in the locker catches your eye. You look down, and there, sitting in the center of your locker, is a cup of matcha latte.

You didn't put it there. Jayce didn't put it there either. So there is only one other person who could have put it there.

You pick up the cup, looking at the steaming drink. Well, you aren't going to drink it just to let it go to waste.

You immediately take a sip, feeling the warm, sweet taste of matcha on your tongue. It's been so long since you had this, and it's still the same taste as the ones she used to make for you when you two were in a...good place.

That was a long time ago now. Things are different now.

“So you do want one.”

A familiar voice makes you jump, causing you to almost spill the drink. You turn around to find the bluenette leaning against the doorframe to the break room.

“I made it for you, in case you wanted it,” she adds, entering the break room, then leaning one shoulder against the row of lockers. Jinx looks at your face, then your shirt. “You look sweaty.” You want to say something, but your brain forgets how to function when she's looking you up and down. “I like the shirt,” she comments, pointing at the shirt that is a little too tight around your shoulders. “It looks good. Fits you well.”

“It's not my shirt,” you reply, placing the cup down on a nearby table, hoping that she'll let that be the end of that. “Jayce gave it to me.”

“He did?” she asks, and you catch a subtle whiff of her favorite perfume. It makes you want to grab her and drown in it. Jinx looks over to your nervous gesture, and her lips twitch. “You should loosen the collar. You're going to suffocate like that.”

Her comment gives you pause, and you try loosening the collar, but your sweaty hands can't get a grip.

“Here.” She reaches up, her delicate fingers undo the first few buttons of your shirt, exposing your collarbones. Her fingers then pull the collar slightly, allowing your hot skin the cool touch of air. “There,” she murmurs once the collar is loose. “That looks more comfortable.”

You manage to find enough sanity to nod, knowing that if you speak now, your voice will most likely crack. You expect her to pull back, but her fingers remain, trailing over your collar.

Her eyes roams over your neck before lifting to your face. “...I'm sorry.”

The words finally bring your attention back. “What?” 

“I said I'm sorry,” she clarifies. “I...I shouldn't have snapped at you like that a week ago. Shouldn't have said what I said.”

“Then why did you?”

Jinx seems to struggle with her next words, her hand finally dropping from your collar. “...I don't know how to handle things well,” she whispers, “I wasn't...I wasn't feeling well either. That's why I lost it. You showed up...when I wasn't in the right mind frame, and I said all these stupid things— ”

Jinx sighs and pushes some hair behind one of her ears. “I was stupid. I was stupid, and I said some awful things. Words I didn't mean and couldn't take back. Everything with my college work started to pile up, and I felt like I couldn't handle it. So you showed up and— ” she swallows. “— I took it out on you…and then I just ignored you for a week.” She shifts from foot to foot. “I…I wasn't trying to avoid you. I just...I thought you'd be annoyed.”

“Annoyed because you were ignoring me?”

“No, yes, maybe— I don't know, alright?” she says hastily. “I just...I wasn't in the mindset to talk, ok? I was trying to figure things out.”

“You could’ve told me—”

“I don't do so well when it comes to opening up about my feelings— ” she stops, then shakes her head. “I don't do so well with being honest with myself.”

You let out a breath. “I know...I know, but that— ”

“Stop,” she interrupts you. “Just...stop. I know what you're going to say. You're going to say that I should work on being better instead of pushing you away. I know I do it. I know I'm bad at it, and I'm not good with my emotions. I know I'm not the best at saying how I feel. I know I should work on my communication.”

“Why don't you then?” you ask bluntly. “Why don't you do something about it? why can't you just try to deal with things instead of pushing me away and dealing with everything alone? why can't you just talk to me instead of bottling everything up?”

She closes her eyes, looking away. “I don't know,” she exhales, “I just...I don't know how.”

“You could start today,” you tell her, reaching out. Your fingers brush over the back of her hand. Her eyes drop to where you touch her and linger. “Right now,” you emphasize, “Just... try. You don't have to start working on all your emotions and feelings. Just say one thing. Tell me how you feel, right now.”

She shakes her head, refusing to look at you.

“Tell me one thing,” you insist, “Just one thing. Try.”

Jinx sighs, as if you're the worst person in the world. Maybe you are. “Okay— ” she starts and finally looks up, “If you're trying to make me spill out my feelings— ”

“I am,” you confirm. “That’s exactly— ”

“Then maybe I should show you first— ” she continues over you “—what I'm feeling.”

She suddenly reaches out and grabs the back of your neck, gripping it tight enough to pull you forward.

“Hey— ” you stumble, hands instinctively wrapping around her waist, but any protests you might've had are smothered because her lips are suddenly on yours.

A week of ignoring each other, and suddenly she's kissing you.

Her lips are so soft. So soft and insistent, and when you don't respond because your brain is still trying to catch up, her teeth graze over your bottom lip, and it's this gesture that snaps you out of it.

You kiss her back, eyes finally closing, and lean in to meet her. Your fingers sink into the fabric of her shirt, and her arms wind around your neck.

Jinx pushes you forward until your back is met with the lockers, pinning your body between the hard surface and herself. Her teeth graze your lip again, her tongue teases yours, and you shiver despite the warmth you feel. “I was stupid,” she mumbles against your mouth, “So, so stupid.”

You grunt out some sort of agreement because yes, she is stupid and yes, you're stupid and yes, you're both idiots for ignoring each other.

You feel her smile before she pulls herself away. “That,” she murmurs, breathless, “that was what I was feeling.”

You open your eyes to look at her, and notice her pink cheeks, half-lidded eyes, her swollen lips, and you fight down the urge to turn her around and just shove her back against the locker and kiss her senseless.

“Are— ” you manage, breathing hard, trying to regain the words that have fled from your head, “are all your emotions channeled through your mouth?”

“Maybe,” she says, eyes dropping to your lips. “Is there a problem with using my mouth?”

There are a lot of words you would like to say. Words relating to how her mouth has driven you crazy for a long time, that you've spent more time than you'd like to admit imagining what it would be like to kiss her and see that mouth do things other than talking.

Too bad, all those words are stuck in your throat. “No,” you grit out, “No...there's no problem.”

“Great.” Jinx grins, leaning closer until your noses bump. “Then maybe my mouth has more things to show you.”

The usual routine of making matcha lattes continues, and the days slowly pass.

Each day, Jinx greets you with a smile and a cup of that disgustingly good matcha. You no longer try to argue with your taste buds. You have given up and accepted the matcha as a part of yourself. Now you drink the horrible drink willingly.

And your relationship with Jinx went from ‘maybe something’ to ‘maybe nothing’ to ‘definitely something.’ You're finally dating, which isn't to say that everything is magically all better. Jinx is still Jinx, and you're still you.

So not everything changes.

The cafe still looks the same, the customers still act the same, you still have to deal with shitty customers and traffic. But even through all the normal, unchanged things, there's one thing that's different.

Jinx is now in your life.

“Hey— ” Jinx waves a hand in front of your face. “Are you listening to anything I'm saying?”

“Uh— ” you blink, returning to reality. “...yeah,” you lie, giving a sheepish smile, “totally listening.”

She stares at you for a long, long moment, trying to determine if you're lying to her or not. Apparently, she thinks you're being truthful. “Great, now pay attention.” She resumes her instructions, and you try your hardest to pay attention.

You watch as she grabs a glass bottle from the shelf above the coffee machine and pours a small amount of...something into her mug. “What's that?”

“Honey.”

“Yeah?”

“Honey,” she repeats, tilting the bottle for you to see. “Honey. Sweet, golden honey.”

Ah, that honey. “That's what I thought.” You nod, like that completely makes sense.

Jinx rolls her eyes but hands you the bottle so you can read the label for yourself.  “This,” she explains, “is what makes my matcha better.” You look between the bottle and the mug of matcha before placing the honey back on the shelf. She stirs the matcha and takes a sip, then gives you a look. “See? That's why it's better.”

The honey is almost as sweet as the way she's looking at you.

“Sweet,” is what you say instead of how you'd love nothing more than to taste it off her lips. 

Jinx smirks. “Want to try it?” she asks, holding out the cup.

“Sure,” you answer. Why not? You reach for the cup and lift it to your mouth. You take a small sip of the hot liquid, and…the matcha is sweet, and sweeter because it was in her mouth only moments ago.

“What do you think?” she asks as she takes the drink and sets it on the counter.

“Perfect,” you admit, licking your lips, trying to get rid of some of the sweetness.

She lifts up a hand, her thumb brushes against your lip, wiping away the remnants of the matcha. “You missed a bit.”

You want to grab her hand and—

Jinx pulls her hand away from your mouth and then sucks off the same thumb that had lingered against you while staring at you directly in the eye. “Mhm…tastes better this way.”

That's it. You'll drag her into the break room and kiss her until neither of you can breathe.

But, before you can do any of that, the cafe door chimes.

Ugh, customer, your brain reminds you. It's like getting pulled from a dream right as it's getting good.

“Hey,” she whispers, “Let's continue this later, yeah?” 

That sounds like a great idea. Amazing idea. Customer first. And then later.

The wind whips through both of your hairs as you pedal down the sidewalk. After putting in long hours and some very generous coffee tips, you've saved up enough to finally repair your bike.

Your ears pick up a familiar chuckle. “This is awesome! We're like birds, but cooler.”

Jinx's arms are wrapped around your waist, her legs pressed up beside your thighs, and you don't need to see her face to know that she's grinning.

You grip the handlebars tighter. “We're nothing like birds. Birds can actually fly.”

“But we're much cooler, right?” Your retort dies in your throat as she presses her chin to your shoulder. “Mmm, I'll take your silence as a yes.” She hums, her breath tickling your ear. “You know, I don't think I've ever been this happy.”

“Ever?” you ask, focusing on the road in front of you. “Of all the years you've lived, you're the happiest now? when you're sitting on a bike, of all things?”

Jinx pinches your waist, making you twitch slightly. “Well, if we're being honest, it's not the bike I'm happiest about. It's you that I'm happiest about.”

You roll your eyes to yourself. She's always so honest. You're grateful that she isn't in front of you, because your face feels unusually warm despite the breeze. “You like me that much?”

“Mmm. I like you a lot, actually. Like…a lot, lot .” Each word is emphasized with a light kiss to your shoulder.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup.” Jinx continues to pepper kisses on your back. “My favorite person in this whole, shitty city.”

“I'm honored,” you quip, trying to sound mocking, but the tone is ruined by the fact that you're smiling without realizing.

She snorts at your lame response against your shoulder, and you feel the brush of her fingertips underneath the hem of your shirt.

“You might be my favorite person too.”

“Only might?” She laughs. “You don't sound very certain.”

“Eh, it's a hard competition,” you reply, making a slow turn left, “There's lots of people in this city— ” and you feel her pinch your side again. “But, yes, maybe you're my favorite.”

“Maybe?”

“Definitely.”

“Ah, there we go,” she says approvingly. “I knew you had great taste.”

Your smile is wide, and you have the urge to turn around and kiss her, but you're pretty sure that will result in a crash. “Oh, and how did you know?”

“I just had a feeling,” she murmurs, “I always had a feeling we'd end up like this.”

You focus on pedaling, your feet moving in a circular rhythm. “Did you just...know?”

“Yeah. I just knew.”

“You just knew?”

“Sometimes you just know when something is going to happen,” Jinx says. “It just makes sense. Like how the sun will rise every morning...or something.”

You pedal forward, the subway entrance comes into view. “Like the sun will rise every morning,” you repeat, “or something.”

She pauses, and the sound of the wind is the only thing that fills your ears. “You know…” She presses her forehead against your shoulder, and you can hear her drawing in a deep, shaky breath. “When I'm bored…sometimes think about you.”

She continues. “It sounds weird, but yeah. I don't think about you in a ‘sexual way’ that people do with crushes or anything like that. I just want to be with your presence or see your smile or hear you laugh or just sit with you.”

You blink, surprised by her words. 

“You make me feel better than anyone else can, and I've had to watch your ass almost every day when you're at the café.”

“That's my fault? you never had to watch my ass, that's a choice you made.”

Jinx scoffs, pinching your side again. “Shhhhh, I'm having a moment here.”

You chuckle softly. “Right, sorry, sorry. Continue.”

“Thank you— ” She huffs. “Anyway, I just…” she pauses, her words coming to a stop, and you continue to pedal in silence. “Sometimes, when I'm not happy or sad, I just think about you. When I'm lonely and I need someone to say something, when I'm really angry and when I'm so tired of everything and everyone...I think about you. I don't understand why I feel that way. I know that it's not normal.” She hesitates, and you can feel her fingers tighten around your abdomen. “Because even though it's not normal, I don't think it's wrong. I just want to have you by my side.”

She sucks in another breath. “I don't care what we're doing, I don't care what we talk about...I just want you to be around.” Jinx presses another soft kiss to the back of your shoulder and buries her face in your shirt once again, mumbling, “I'm happy.”

You swallow, taking your left hand off the handlebar to place it over her hands. “I want to be around you too.”

She sighs in relief. “I'm a bit insane. I'm not.. normal.”

“I don't care if you're not normal. Who wants to be normal, anyway?”

She chuckles and kisses your shoulder, inhaling your scent.

You can see a glimpse of the subway station just ahead, the entrance of a tunnel on standby. You pedal slowly, taking a few more seconds to enjoy the wind and the warmth of Jinx's behind, and then come to a stop in front of the subway entrance.

Her arms loosen their grip on your waist, and you feel the heat of her body leave your back as she hops off the seat. You swing your legs off of the bike and put down the kickstand before facing her.

Your eyes trail over to the tunnel, the sounds of the trains coming in and out of the subway filling the night sky.

“This is me.” She jerks a thumb towards the entrance.

You nod. “See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow. Work. Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

You can see people walking into the station in your peripheral vision. The world continuing to go on despite the standstill you're in. Your eyes don't leave her as you both hesitate, neither of you wanting to leave. You're both just standing awkwardly, looking at each other.

You can't help but look at her with fondness. She's not even doing anything, just standing in front of you, and you still think that she's the most beautiful person in the world.

“Guess I should…” her voice trails off, and she makes a gesture with her hand. “Subway time.”

“Yeah…” you say softly, “subway time.”

She doesn't move, though. Neither of you do.

Her eyes flit between the tunnel and you, and she gnaws at her lower lip. “You should, uh…” she begins, “...go.”

“Yeah, I should…” You should. You should pedal back to your apartment, maybe do some dishes, and go to bed. You have class tomorrow, and Jinx is going into the subway. 

But you take a step forward. She looks at the ground. “Are you going to hug me?”

“Should I?”

“I don't know. Do you want to?”

“I could be convinced.”

Jinx rolls her eyes but smiles anyway. “Yeah? you could be convinced, huh? what would it take for you to agree then?”

It's not like you need to put much thought into it. “I don't know. A few hundred bucks? A fancy dinner? Maybe a yacht?”

She smacks your arm with a huff and a glare. “You aren't taking this seriously.”

“Oh— ” you say, clutching the fake wound, “You're brutal. I'm wounded, I'm injured— ”

She crosses her arms and gives you a deadpan look. With a laugh, you step forward and wrap your arms around her waist. Her arms immediately slide over your shoulders as she burrows herself into your neck.

You breathe in her scent, closing your eyes. Your chin rests on her shoulder comfortably, and you feel her fingers slide into your hair.

“Just one more second,” she whispers. Her breath ghosts against your ear, and you swallow, feeling the goosebumps rise on the back of your neck.

You could stay like this with her for an eternity. On the sidewalk in front of the subway entrance. You could take turns leaning on her shoulder.

But the world doesn't work like that, and your moment is being watched by a few strangers walking in the entrance. She pulls back just far enough to be able to look at you but still holds onto you. 

Her hands cup your cheeks, and you stare at each other for a few seconds. Her face lit up by the orange glow of a nearby streetlamp. She's looking at you, you're looking at her, and the world hasn't collapsed. Her eyes trail over every feature, and you wonder if she sees you the same way too—if she finds each piece of you as beautiful as you do of her.

Jinx brushes her thumb lightly over your cheek and the corner of her lips twitches into a smile. Her smile widens as she looks at you, showing the slight gap between her two front teeth, and it's— it's… 

You blink, feeling your knees grow weak, you can almost hear the sound of wedding bells and wonder if you've just found the closest thing to heaven on earth.

Jinx presses a light kiss to your nose. “See you, partner.” She takes hold of your chin with one hand and presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“See you.” You can't help but smile, a bit dumbly.

She eventually lets go of your chin and takes a step back. You try to memorize every detail of her as she walks backward. “Call me when you get home, 'kay?”

You nod. “Okay”

Jinx stops in the subway entrance and offers a small wave.

You wave back, but you keep waving even after she disappears into the tunnel. You keep waving, even after the last of her is gone, until you're just standing there like a fool, waving goodbye to the empty subway entrance. You realize just how dumb you look, waving to nothing, and finally drop your hand.

You tear your eyes away and stare at the bike that sits abandoned on the sidewalk, waiting for you. You finally pick up the kickstand and grab the handles, starting to pedal.

You think about tomorrow.

Tomorrow is when you're going to deal with shitty customers in the shitty city. 

Tomorrow is her smile as she hands you your cup, making your day before it even starts.

Tomorrow is drinking a matcha latte, a drink you used to hate, but now you look forward to it, because she makes it.

Tomorrow is her arm around your waist as you take her to the subway.

Tomorrow is her pulling away and saying, “See you, partner.”

Tomorrow with her.

And for the first time, you don't dread tomorrow.

You looked up, “why?”

“You’ve been at it for hours!” She said, throwing her hands in the air exaggeratedly, “I mean, come on! How hard can it be?”

She picked up one of your books, and opened it, flipping through the pages aimlessly. Then tossed it back to you.

“Hell no.”

You snorted softly.

“How about you go make me another coffee?”

Jinx raised a brow.

“How about no? Your heart is running on a prayer and a thousand dreams.”

You rolled your eyes so hard they almost flew out of orbit.

“Sure.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be dry with me now,” Jinx leaned closer, “I can go get you a very diluted coffee.”

You tried not to smile at that.

“I’d rather die.”

A moment of silence passed.

“Y’know, you could just drop out,” Jinx offered.

“No, that’s not on the table and you know that.”

“Who’s to say you’re gonna, like, make six figures after you graduate anyway?”

“A degree is still worth somethin’.”

You looked back at your notes, quietly focusing your brain there. Jinx didn’t retaliate, didn’t throw an insult at you like she’d initially wanted to do so.

She knew this was important to you and although she couldn’t see the necessity in it, she respected it.

Ever since Jinx had been young, she’d lived on scrapes so she was no stranger to poverty. Once she’d gotten a little older and worked a couple odd jobs, she managed to get herself a stabilised financial footing, and that’s how she was now here—your roommate.

You didn’t know about half the jobs she did.

It didn’t matter.

She was looking for a roommate and you were too, and one thing happened after another and before you knew it—you were sharing a room with an older girl who acted half your age and had hair that could compete with Rapunzel’s (which had quickly become your subject of amusement, much to Jinx’s dismay).

You sighed and leaned your head back, running a hand over your face. At this rate, you were never going to finish up with revision.

And that sucked because you’d actually been looking forward to this test.

You got up, and grabbed your jacket from the coat hanger.

“Hey, I’m going out for a walk,” you said, voice low and tired.

“Mmm’kay!”

You didn’t wait for further conversation and walked towards the door. The weather outside was as gloomy as you felt—dark clouds drifting through the depressed blue sky. You walked with both hands stuffed in your jacket.

You knew Jinx was sort of right—an undergraduate degree wouldn’t really help a lot in this economy especially when people with even a master’s degree struggle to get a job. What even were the odds that you would land a good paying job?

You knew Jinx never made that much—she relied partially on her older sister Vi for money… but you had no family you could turn to. It was just you.

Currently, you were working odd jobs with your roommate—but you made only enough to get sucked dry every time you went grocery shopping. You didn’t remember the last time you treated yourself with something good and you relied fully on your scholarship for college.

Somehow, you were keeping your head above water but you didn’t know what you wanted to do after this. It had taken you a long time to figure out what to do after prep-school and now that you were in college—suddenly the challenges of the real world started to weigh down on you harder than it did when you were a rebellious teenager with a backup plan of getting a sugar daddy.

Hah, sugar daddy.

The thought made you smile to yourself—you were stupid back then to think you could land yourself a sugar daddy without having to sell your body to him for money. You kicked a rock and watched it roll down the pavement.

Life was weird in a way—right when you’d thought nothing would work out and you were going to have to live in a dinky old apartment by yourself, you’d found Jinx.

She was… friendly. Although she laughed at your expense a lot, she was very warm when she welcomed you in and helped you get your first ever roommate experience. Your smile widened a little. You felt embarrassed admitting—but if it weren’t for the people Jinx introduced you to, you’d probably think you had nobody in this world to turn to.

But there were plenty of people now.

There’s Vi. There’s Sevika. And to Jinx’s utter discomfort, there’s Caitlyn.

You knew even if things went down to hell after university, they would all have your back. Atleast, that part of everything felt comforting.

“I’m back home,” you announced, opening the door and kicking your shoes off.

“Wash up for dinner!” Jinx’s voice called.

You looked up, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

Since when did Jinx become housewife material?

You walked to the kitchen, and saw Jinx carefully throwing away takeout containers, two full plates sitting on the kitchen counter. You stood silently and waited until she put them in the trash.

“You cooked?”

“Yeah.”

“Jinx.”

She smiled sheepishly. “I ordered takeout…”

“With what money?”

“Well, technically—Vi ordered takeout—”

You smiled despite yourself. “You’re not as sneaky as you think you are.”

“Okay, okay, whatever, you wanna eat or wait til the food’s all cold?”

“Let’s eat.”

You both sat in front of the TV, setting the plates down on the table as you both got comfortable on the couch. You watched Jinx picking out a movie.

“I feel bad sometimes… I’ll reimburse you for the—”

“Nah, don’t bother.”

“Jinx—

“Hush. Just eat.” She paused. “You deserve to be taken care of, y’know?”

You stared at her. That’s the first time she’d spoken to you in a voice that soft and genuine, and didn’t joke about it right after.

“Don’t make me get all sappy now,” she said, elbowing you gently, “eat.”

---

Jinx was there for you more than you’d like to admit. More than she’d like to admit either because in a world where everyone only looked out for themselves, she looked out for you and took care of you in more ways than one.

She was messy herself—laundry barely ever done and sketching paper all over the floor of her room but whenever she saw you were too stressed out to bother cleaning your room out, she stepped up and had everything under control.

It was like.. whenever she needed to be the emotional anchor for both of you, she willingly stepped up to be that without you having to ask for it. That meant more to you than any extravagantly rich older roommate could ever.

“How was the test!?” Jinx asked the moment she saw you walk to the parking lot.

“It was good,” you said, smiling brightly, “how come you’re here? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“What work?” Jinx asked with a tilt of her head, “oh, work! Yeah, I work flexible hours.”

“Okay…”

“What? I came because my roomie has finally given the exam that’s been wrecking her in a not-so-pleasurable way.”

You swatted her playfully, “goodness.”

“Get in the car, princess,” she opened the passenger side door for you.

“Oh, aren’t you so chivalrous?”

You got inside and Jinx got in the driver’s side, revving out of the parking spot and driving onto the road.

“So, was the paper hard or worth all that revision?”

“It was okay, actually. I think I’ll do good.”

“See, you stress yourself out for nothin’!”

You looked at her—even in that stupid baseball cap and denim jacket, Jinx looked good. She looked at you, catching you staring.

“What? Fallin’ in love?” She teased.

Your cheeks flushed, “oh, fuck you.”

“You wish you could, baby.”

Damn right. You did wish that.

The rest of the drive was silent. Once you’d both gotten home, you walked inside and taken your jacket off, looking around.

“Oh, you cleaned up while I was gone?”

“Yeah, figured you’d wanna come back and relax, not get your hands dirty.” Jinx closed the door behind you both.

“That’s so sweet of you.”

“Don’t—I ain’t ever cleanin’ again.”

Jinx looked away, clearly a little flustered, not that she’d ever admit to that.

“Aww, don’t be like that, Jinxie.” you kissed her cheek just to watch her blush more, “I just appreciate you.”

Jinx’s face turned hotter and redder.

“As you should! I’m gonna—... Be in my room if you need me…”

You watched her march to her room and close the door with more force than necessary, and smiled. If you weren’t wrong, she definitely was very much into this.

---

It didn’t take long.

You were on her lap, legs on either side of her body as you kissed her. The kiss was something desperate like you both had been waiting for this very moment to pour all your love into this one kiss. You held both sides of Jinx’s face and she had her hands on your waist and lower back as she guided you on top of her.

The couch creaked ominously but you both ignored it.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this.”

You kissed her again. This time it was sloppier.

Filled with more sensual need.

She moved you onto the couch, seating you and reversing positions—she knelt between your legs.

“You wanna do this?”

You nodded, helping her get your panties off. She tossed them to the side carelessly and groaned at the side of your soaked folds staring back at her. She used one hand to part your lips, and just admired it for a few seconds.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“I have too…”

You watched with half-lidded eyes as Jinx squeezed your thigh with her free hand, her tongue lapping at your juices first. She kissed your inner thighs when she moved closer, her nose probing against your throbbing clit.

“Oh… Jinx…”

“Moan my name,” she licked a bold stripe over your cunt.

She was obsessed with your taste before she even had it properly. She delved her tongue inside, moaning herself when she got a proper taste of you. Both her hands wrapped around your waist and she tugged you closer, smothering her face with your cunt.

You fisted her hair, grabbing the couch with your other hand.

“Jinx— fuck!”

Your moans got her wet and needier, her pace speeding up as she tongue-fucked you. You tugged at her hair lightly, whimpering and moaning her name.

Your clit twitched with the need to be stimulated. That’s when her tongue circled it.

She could read your body effortlessly, and she cared about you genuinely.

she thinks, yes, this is it. i’m going to sleep.

and for a blissful twenty minutes, she lets herself believe it…

until you—curled up sweet and soft under the blanket beside her—start mewling.

not awake, no. that would’ve been easier.

you’re dreaming, whimpering into your pillow, rolling your hips against the mattress in slow, desperate little movements like you’re chasing something your sleeping brain can’t catch.

“…Jinx…” her name, spoken in a breathy, fucked out voice. it’s barely audible, but it’s enough to make her twitch.

she tries to ignore it, tries to be good. she keeps her eyes shut, jaw tense, and tries to will it away. maybe you’ll settle. maybe it’s just a twitch.

maybe.

but then you whine again—louder this time—and the sound of your wet little whimper has her grinding her teeth.

“jesus fucking—baby,” she groans under her breath, dragging a hand over her face. she opens one eye and there you are: brows furrowed, lips parted, face flushed—from sleep or tension? she can’t tell. you make another sound, clinging to the blanket, your thighs rubbing together in a dreamy attempt at friction. your hips keep giving those tiny, pathetic thrusts, like your pussy’s aching even in your sleep. “un-fucking-believable,” she whispers.

she sits there for a moment, fighting herself, because she knows what this is. it’s not new. it’s not even rare. you get like this sometimes—sleepy, needy, half-dreaming of her with your body, even when your mind is drifting somewhere soft and fuzzy. you mewl her name, whisper please in that sugary voice, and rut against the sheets like they could fill you, hips slow and searching, a bit clumsy.

and every damn time, Jinx cracks like glass.

tonight is supposed to be different. she’s comfortable. she’s tired. she needs sleep. but you gasp once more, and when she looks over her shoulder again, watching your pretty little torment in real time, she sees it: the tiny tears beading at the corners of your lashes like you’re getting overwhelmed.

that does it—her resolve splinters, sharp and final.

she shoves the blankets back with a huff, swings her legs out of bed, and stomps to the drawer like a woman wronged. she digs around and yanks out the baby blue strap like it owes her money, fastening it on with the grim weariness of someone clocking in for a graveyard shift she never agreed to. the harness slaps against her thighs—cool buckle, familiar weight. Jinx doesn’t even bother being quiet about it; if you’re going to torture her in your sleep, you don’t get peace either.

she cinches it tight, adjusting. the silicone cock bounces with every annoyed step as she walks back, muttering under her breath like she’s psyching herself up for war. “you’d think by now i’d sleep in this thing.”

she pauses at the edge of the bed and stares down—at the love of her life, she reminds herself. even now—flushed, sweat-damp tank top clinging to your back, panties all bunched and twisted from your restless squirming—you’re still the softest thing she’s ever wanted to ruin.

Jinx sighs so hard it rattles her chest. “you just had to start something, huh?” her palms run down her face once in exasperation before she climbs back into bed. “hope you’re proud of yourself,” she mumbles, already yanking your hips up and slotting herself between your legs like it’s routine. “i was gonna sleep for at least eight hours tonight. dreamless. peaceful. but nooo, babydoll had to start humping the sheets again.”

she eases her hands under your knees, folding you up gently but firmly, and when she pushes your ruined panties to the side, the wet heat that greets her makes her hiss through her teeth. “you couldn’t wait ‘til morning?” she spits into her palm—more reflex than necessity—and strokes the fake cock once before sliding the tip through your folds. it lines up too easy, catching against your messy entrance. you gasp, but don’t wake. “let’s see if i can fuck some silence into you.”

and with that—thrust. slow and steady, deep enough to knock a breathy little ohh from you as your eyes flutter open halfway, dazed and glassy. “mmh—Jinx—?”

“hi, baby,” she murmurs, low and worn-out. “s’just me. couldn’t let you hump yourself stupid all night.” her arms slide under your thighs, holding you open. her weight settles forward, buried to the hilt, and she pauses there just to let you feel it—the stretch, the fullness, the pressure.

then she starts moving in long, deep strokes, pity-fucking you out of habit and resignation like it’s a prescription. the ribbed silicone drags perfectly through your sensitive walls, and this time, your whimper is sharp, fully conscious, body shifting into her rhythm without hesitation.

“i–i was dreaming…” you try to explain, voice paper thin and useless, almost pouty. “needed you—”

“yeah, no shit,” Jinx grunts, breath hot against your cheek as she drags her hips back and slams in deeper, snapping into you with just enough force to make the bed creak. it sends you rocking into the pillow, body jolting with every thrust.

you moan louder, the sound breaking high. “s–sorry—feels so good—”

“don’t apologize. just take it,” she growls, groping you through the thin fabric of your top, squeezing your tit hard and possessive. “you feel better now? finally full, babydoll?”

you sob and nod, helpless. each thrust punches a wet, fragile sound out of you, like music made just for her.

“you’re unbelievable,” she whispers, her tone somewhere between reverence and complaint, breath catching. “the way you sound? the way you soak the sheets for me? you think i don’t wanna fuck you in your sleep every night?”

“more—!” you practically beg, voice ragged, already trembling.

“yeah, baby,” Jinx coos, mock-sweet. “more. that’s all you ever want.” she picks up the pace, blue strands falling out of her messy braid. “say thank you.”

“th–thank you, Jinx—fuck—thank you!”

“i’m gonna start charging you rent per orgasm,” she grumbles with a light scoff, leaning in to press her mouth against your neck. “fuckin’ insatiable.”

“thank you…” you breathe again—quieter now, softer, sincere in a way that undoes her.

the annoyance slips from Jinx like water off her back.

and damnit, she doesn’t mean to soften.

she kisses the side of your head, still fucking into you, her nose brushing your cheek as she nuzzles closer. “you’re so good for me,” she murmurs, voice suddenly low and hoarse, “you know that? you wear me out, but… fuck, you’re so good.”

her arms wrap tight around you, and she pants softly into your ear. she never loses rhythm—just melts into it, movement and intention fused together seamlessly.

“god, you’re lucky i love you,” she whispers breathlessly, full of heat, trembling with everything she doesn’t say yet. you sob out a broken but grateful sound, clinging to the sheets like they’re the only thing anchoring you. your hips keep moving in soft little rolls and needy tilts, inviting her deeper. “spoiled little thing.”

she keeps it steady—in and out, deep and warm, the strap coated in slick. the room echoes with the obscene and repetitive sound of skin slapping on skin, nearly drowning her out. “you gonna come for me now?” she asks, licking a warm stripe beneath your ear before giving your shoulder a gentle nip. “gonna come so we can both finally sleep?”

“yes! please—wanna come like this—”

she reaches down between your bodies, thumbing your clit in expert motions. “you’re almost there, c’mon,” she breathes, lips at your jaw, peppering it with sweet kisses.

and it hits fast.

you cry out—loud and lovely and so fucking grateful—whole body shuddering with release. it’s the kind of orgasm that leaves you boneless and breathless, melting against her with a wrecked little sigh. she stays buried inside, grinding slow and gentle through the aftershocks as you pulse around her, her own heart racing.

and then—finally—silence. the kind Jinx had been chasing all night.

she pulls out carefully, earning one last whine from you, before unbuckling the strap and tossing it to the floor without ceremony, silicone cock coated in your cream. she’ll worry about hygiene tomorrow; for now, she flops down beside you with a tired groan, dragging you into her chest.

“you better sleep like a baby after this,” she mutters, already halfway gone, pressing her lips to your temple.

you hum and smile dreamily, mumbling out a satisfied “g’night” as your eyes flutter shut, letting her warmth wrap around you like a weighted blanket.

and Jinx?

asleep in two minutes flat.

you find Jinx at her workbench like you always do after a fight, hunched over a chipped enamel bowl, water turning pink. her makeup is spread around her in a careful disarray—new pots of kohl cracked open, brushes with stained bristles, half-empty bottles of perfume she doesn't reach for nowadays. you even spot the scissors—the same pair she used to hack off her braids in a moment of fury because they were something her opponents could grab and control.

no more handles.

nothing for you to hold either.

she doesn't look up when she hears your approaching footsteps; she just keeps scrubbing at her face with both hands like she's trying to peel it off, water sluicing down her arms, dripping from her elbows and onto the floor. the heavy black makeup that usually rings her eyes has melted into streaks that slash down her cheeks, dragged lower and wider with every pass of her palms like war paint gone wrong.

press, drag, rinse, press harder.

over and over.

"you fought tonight." your voice comes out flat and cold, each word carefully controlled; you clamp down everything else because if you let any emotion show, it'll split you open.

she hums in reply, casual and thoughtless like you've commented on the weather before dunking her whole face in the bowl. you hear the sound of the water breaking, sloshing as it licks at the rim, her breath forcing bubbles to the surface. when she comes up, it’s with a faint gasp, her hair plastered to her temples in dark clumps; she's dripping, water runing down her neck and soaking into the bandages wrapped around her chest, the painted black X over it starting to bleed at the edges. her bare shoulders flex as she rolls them out with a faint crack, earning a relieved grunt.

"i won, too," she adds after a moment, like that fixes anything.

"i don't care."

"you should." she finally glances at you over her shoulder, and your breath catches despite yourself; even with exhaustion carved into every line of her face, Jinx is devastatingly beautiful. the shimmer swimming in heir veins, burning through her system, gives her this restless, coiled energy, like she's constantly vibrating just beneath her pale skin ever since Singed put her back together wrong. "put on a good show. crowd loved it." her hands are unwrapped, settling on either side of the bowl now, knuckles split and swelling purple over the delicate bones.

"i told you i'd leave if you fought again," you say quietly, the words sounding worn thin from repetition. you can’t tell if you’re warning her anymore or trying to convince yourself you still mean them.

"yeah." she lets out a small laugh, the sound utterly patronizing nevertheless, keeping her head bowed for a second longer before picking up the worn rag beside her and wiping at her face lazily. you watch as the black keeps smearing, refusing to come clean. "you did say that."

"i meant it."

"sure you did."

the casual dismissal hits like a slap, and your hands curl into fists, heat flaring up your spine. you want to grab her, shake her until the arrogance cracks, make her understand. instead you stand there, trembling with barely contained rage. "you said you'd quit."

"i said i'd try."

"i'm serious, Jinx!"

"yeah? that why you're here?" she gestures vaguely at your presence, voice taking on that awful, condescending coo. "at my place in the middle of the night? 'cause you're leaving?"

"i came to tell you—"

"bullshit." she pushes off the workbench, and the bowl wobbles unsteadily. "you came because you always come. because you say you're gonna leave and then you don't. it's what you do." she straightens, chin tilting up. "you wanna leave? leave. door's right there. nothing's stopping you."

"Jinx—"

"no, seriously." she spins once, arms spreading wide with theatrical flourish. the movement makes her bandages shift against her ribs, showing the edges of bruises underneath—purple, yellow, green. "go. save yourself from the big bad pitfighter. run back to your safe little life and forget you ever slummed it with Zaun trash like me." her smile widens, sharp and knowing as the word trash hangs between you like something she's daring you to swallow. "but you won't, because you're too sweet for your own good. too caring. too worried what'll happen to poor, broken Jinx if you're not here to save her."

"don't fucking do that to me!" you snap, the control finally cracking as months of fears and frustrations come spilling out of you. "don't do that."

"do what, baby? tell the truth?" the endearment is mocking, dripping with false innocence. "you need this. you need to be needed. and i'm so very, very needy."

"you're such a fucking asshole," you spit out, face twisting in disbelief at her words like you don’t know what to do with the thing she’s becoming. this girl standing in front of you, smirking with poison in her voice, barely resembles the one you fell in love with.

"mmm, yeah." her eyes glitter with mean amusement, bottom lip caught between her teeth to contain her smile. "but you love me anyway. that's the problem, isn't it? you can't help yourself. can't walk away from a lost cause."

"stop acting like this!"

"i'm not acting like anything." she tosses the rag back into the bowl, letting it land in the pink water with a wet slap. "you just say a lot of things, but you're still there."

"not for long."

"when?"

“what?”

"when are you leaving then?" her voice is deliberately flat as she leans back against the workbench once more, arms braced behind her like she's settling for a show. "tonight? tomorrow? just wanna know how long i've got."

"that's it?" you huff, stepping closer, anger finally overriding the ache in your chest. "that's all you have to say? i'm telling you i'm done, and you're just… you don't even care—!"

"sure i care." she pushes off the bench, stepping onto the propeller blade you stand on, claiming space you thought was yours. "but you're gonna walk out that door, go back to your little apartment, and lie awake all night wondering if i'm okay. if i'm bleeding out in some alley. if someone finally hit me hard enough that i didn't get back up." she stops, facing you with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "and then tomorrow night—or maybe the night after, if you're feeling particularly strong—you'll come back. you always come back. because the guilt would eat you alive, wouldn't it? knowing you left me. knowing you could've stayed unlike the rest of them and maybe, just maybe, kept me from destroying myself completely."

every word lands like a punch, because it’s true. because Jinx knows exactly where to press, exactly how to hurt, and she does it anyway. your breath comes faster, vision blurring at the edges.

"fuck you," you breathe out, voice unsteady with rage. "fuck you for using that against me."

"oh, poor baby." she takes another step, tone sliding back into something honeyed and vicious. "so noble. so self-sacrificing. staying with the broken girl because someone has to, right? because if you don't, who—"

"stop it!" your shout echoes in the open space, bouncing off metal and stone, coming back distorted and strange. your whole body is shaking with fury and hurt, tears streaming down your face freely now as you face her cruelty. "you want me to leave? fine. i'll fucking leave right now. and when you're lying in that pit with your skull cracked open and your blood soaking into the dirt, you can die knowing you pushed away the only person who still gave a shit about you." the words tear out of you raw as you turn on your heel and storm toward the exit.

behind you, Jinx's laugh cuts off abruptly. "wait—"

"no!" you don't slow down, boots clanging hard against the old propeller blade, metal ringing under your weight. "i'm done. you win. you're right about everything. i'm just some pathetic case who needs broken people to feel good about herself. congratulations on figuring it out."

"wait, no! i'm sorry. i'm sorry, i'm—fuck, i'm sorry!” the words tumble out of her unfiltered, taking on that frantic edge you've learned to recognize. "please don't go. please. you know i don't mean it. you know i never do."

still, you keep moving, because you've done this before. you know this by heart now—the cruelty, the apology, the way she pushes until something tears and then panics at the sight of blood. something crashes behind you—the bowl, judging by the noise, water slapping across the floor in a violent splash. you hear her swear under her breath, then the quick shuffle of her boots as she nearly slips.

"please!" she begs again, no hint of mockery in her tone now, just the sound of someone ripping themselves open trying to get the word out.

this time, you pause. not because you forgive her—not even close—but because you can't pretend you didn't hear that when the word lodges itself under your ribs. you turn slowly, taking in her wrecked face. the bravado is gone, the smirk is gone; all that's left is the wild look in her bright pink eyes blown wide with panic. her chest is heaving. you can see every breath, rapid and shallow like she can't pull enough air into her lungs. fine tremors move through her whole body as the adrenaline starts draining away, leaving her standing there raw and painfully young.

you stare at her, months of pain in your own expression as you shake your head in disbelief. "this isn't all you are, Jinx."

"yeah?" her mouth twists as she sniffles once, angrily wiping at her face with the heel of her palm. "so what am i?"

you open your mouth, closing it just as fast. because what can you even say anymore? that Jinx is brilliant and creative and funny in the strangest ways? that she sees beauty in things everyone else overlooks? that you love her?

all of it is true, but none of it is enough to keep her out of the pit.

"i can't watch you die," you say finally, stepping away from her. "i can't stand there and watch you kill yourself one fight at a time. i can't."

"then don't watch."

"Jinx—"

"i'm serious." her jaw sets in that stubborn line you know too well. "you don't have to watch. i'll keep fighting, you'll keep worrying, we'll keep doing this dance until—"

"until what? until they carry you out of that pit in pieces?"

"maybe!" her hands fly up, manic energy crackling through her again. she starts pacing, steps quick and uneven. "maybe that's how it ends! maybe i don't get a happy ending. i'm fine with that, why can't you—"

"Jinx, stop!" you reach for her, forcing her to stop moving. she stumbles, freezing under your hand, skin hot and pulse racing where your thumb presses into the inside of her wrist. "just stop. please."

she looks at you, and for a moment—one fleeting moment—you see past the bravado and the mania to the Powder underneath, scared and small and bracing for impact. "i don't want to lose you, too," she whispers. "i know i need you."

"you need help."

"i need you." the insistence is immediate and desperate enough to make your stomach twist.

"that's not fair," you whisper, shaking your head. "you can't put that on me."

"i know, baby. i know it's not fair. you really should go," she admits easily. "you should, but if you try, i swear i'll still crawl after you."

Jinx then staggers forward, swaying slightly before ultimately dropping to her knees on the dirty floor and crawling the short distance between you, forehead pressing against your stomach like a starving dog finally let in from the cold to a warm meal.

"i'll win for you. i'll be smarter. i'll build you a fucking house out of scrap and sleep on the floor if that's what it takes." she's panting, breath hot and erratic, shaky hands already fumbling under your top and clutching at your waist.

"i'll do anything." she looks up, pupils blown wide. her eyes shine wet under the dim light, and it's impossible to tell whether she's genuinely on the verge of tears or just desperate enough to weaponize them. maybe there's no difference anymore. "anything you say," she whispers. "you want me begging, baby? i'll beg. i'll cry. just don't go. i need you. i need you."

your hands hover uselessly above her head. you don't know what this is—manipulation, panic, love, fear. Jinx has always used every weapon in her arsenal when she's cornered: cruelty, guilt, charm, violence. but this—this trembling, frantic thing at your feet—feels too raw to entirely fake.

"you said you'd quit," you whisper again, voice trembling, but your fingers are already sinking into the short blue strands at the back of her head. the chopped-off remnants of what used to reach her ankles curl around your knuckles easily now. "last month, you promised me—"

"i know."

"and the month before that—"

"i know."

"so why should i believe you this time?"

for a second, she just kneels there, breathing against your stomach. "you shouldn't," she says, and the honesty hurts more than any other promise would have. "i've lied before. i'll probably lie again. but right now? the truth is i don't wanna lose you. even when i’m mean.” she swallows, forehead pressing more firmly against you like she’s bracing herself. “maybe… maybe especially then.”

it's pathetic how quickly you give in at that, how fast it escalates as the anger drains out of your body. one second you're standing there, trying to leave her; the next, she’s dragging you down onto the mattress in one graceless motion, pulling your shirt over your head and licking her lips when soft tits spill out, nipples already pebbled from the permanent cold in her hideout.

"missed this," she mutters, burying her face in your chest with a needy whine as if she's trying to crawl inside your skin and make a home out of your ribs. she presses closer with every breath, like if she could split you open and tuck herself somewhere beneath your sternum, behind your heartbeat, she might actually stop shaking.

she shouldn't be touching you like this; not when her jaw clicks every time she swallows from where that other fighter clipped her clean in round two, but she's too far gone to care. "missed you. you're so fucking warm, baby." her hands roam without direction—waist, back, waist again—like she's checking whether you're real or just another cruel joke supplied by her mind. she finally tilts her head up, looking at you through damp lashes. "can i taste you?" she asks softly. "please?"

you nod, because how can you not? the second Jinx gets like this—wild and greedy and strung out on need—it flips something inside you. it makes you forget every mean word, every cruel statement thrown at you. you're on your back in no time, pants yanked off with your legs draped over her freckled shoulders, pussy soaked and fluttering around nothing as she mouths at you like she's dying of thirst. she keeps an arm wrapped around your thigh, holding you down while the other slips under your ass, tilting you up into her mouth. Jinx eats like a girl who hasn't touched softness in weeks, hips canting uselessly into the mattress like she gets off on your taste alone. like forgiveness is something she finds deep inside your cunt and your cunt only.

she moans shamelessly at every twitch of your thighs, tongue flattening against your puffy folds before she drags it slow in up and down licks. "please," she begs between desperate strokes, fingers digging into your soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises matching hers. "please, don't leave me. i'll be so good for you. i'll fight better. i'll win cleaner. i'll quit, i swear—just don't fucking leave me."

you're gasping, fingers tangling in her damp strands and holding on tightly as your hips start to rock into her mouth with every ragged breath, legs closing around her ears, helpless to the pace. "god… fuck, Jinx—"

"that's it. let me have it," she whimpers, nearly coming untouched right there and then at the sound of your moan, the kitteny mewls echoing in her hideout only making her hungrier. "let me fucking keep you. you want me on a leash, baby? you want me on my knees every night? just say it. just don't go."

she sobs into your cunt, trembling as she adds her fingers, slipping two in too easily and curling them until you keen, choking on pleasure, clutching at her like she'll disappear if you let go.

"oh, fuck! yes—yes, right there—!"

she pants when she finally comes up for air, lips shiny, chin soaked in a mixture of slick and spit, fingers still working you open in a relentless rhythm. "see? i'll fix everything. i'll make you proud of me again. i'll be your best girl." her other hand strokes your thigh like she's petting something precious, licking sloppier now as she humps harder, her own panties sticking uncomfortably to her neglected cunt. "you make me feel—mmph—clean. i might be the… the dirtiest fucking thing in this city, but you still let me eat like i'm worthy."

you can't even answer anymore—just a string of broken gasps between senseless babbling as she shoves her fingers deeper, grinding them into your sweetest spot while her mouth seals around your throbbing clit again.

"stay still," she rasps, only holding you down harder when you squeal and try to jerk away from the overwhelming sensation. her own whines are rising as she pants between licks, kissing you through every twitch and tremor like she's scared this will end. like she's fucking for her life. "you missed me too, didn't ya?"

"mmnh—y-yeah, missed… missed you—"

Jinx moans like it's a reward, pink eyes shining with adoration as they lock onto your flushed face. she sees you drool just a little, nodding like a ragdoll, eyes rolling back with every pass of her tongue against your sensitive bud.

"so come for me," she pleads, borderline delirious with it, eyes glistening. "come for me, and i swear i'll never bleed for anyone else again."

and you do, body seizing up as you orgasm hard in tear-slicked bliss, hips still bucking into her while you cream around her fingers, cunt fluttering in delight. she just groans and licks you through it like it's the best of aphrodisiacs, sweat running down her own back. even when you tremble and whine and try to shift away, she follows, not letting up just yet.

"i'm not done," she breathes, still coaxing you through it like she's trying to drag something holier out of you. "i have more to prove. let me prove it. let me be good for you."

"Jinx—s'too much, slow down!" your hands push weakly at her shoulders, more reflex than real resistance, your whole body trembling under her.

"then stay," she gasps immediately. "stay and i'll stop. i'll slow down."

"i will! i will, just… just gentler, please—!"

"you want me soft? you want me sweet?" she whispers, kissing your shaking thigh on the way up your body, crawling over you fully and pressing herself flush against you like she's trying to fuse you together. "i'll be that," she murmurs lovingly, tongue dragging over the sweat at your pulse. “just say you want me. say you still want me.”

“i do! i promise i do, just—mmph—”

she sucks a hickey into the hollow of your throat while she pumps her fingers deeper, thumb mean against your clit, and your gasps melt into sobs. you try to roll your hips away from the intensity, only to have Jinx whine and chase you again, pinning you fully beneath her weight. you moan loud, wrung out and overstimulated, but your legs spread open wider nonetheless, pleasure overriding everything else.

"oh my god," she gasps in awe, "you love it. you love me like this. all fucked and stupid over you. i know i get mean, baby… but i love you. i love you, i promise.”

the words should make you angry. instead, they go straight through you. she kisses you hard before you can answer, moaning softly into your mouth when you arch against her on instinct. you taste yourself on her tongue, all salt and musk. it's filthy, intimate in the ugliest way possible. it should feel wrong. it does feel wrong.

but that's just part of it, isn’t it?

"come again," she pants, eyes pleading as her forehead knocks against yours. "one more time, baby, just give it to me. let me make you come and then you can run…" a shaky laugh escapes her then, eyes squeezing shut for a brief moment. "if you still have the energy to."

and there it is again—that awful thing living between you. the push and pull of it. cruelty wrapped around devotion so tightly neither of you can tell where one ends and the other begins anymore. every sharp edge softened by desparation. every act of tenderness permanently poisoned.

the truly unforgivable part is that, somewhere along the way, this stopped feeling like something either of you knows how to survive without.

— divider by @/cursed-carmine !!

ᯓ ☘︎ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @thisrots ; @sketch303 ; @ripleysnightmare ; @ne0nspr1te ; @esop3 ; @dollifonts ; @lesmerri ; @simply-hyena ; @faerieschronicles ; @honeyyl3mon ; @autistic4jinx ; @bluefootedbooby ; @toomuchbutter ; @evereenashaven ; @ladynoctambule ; @katilina-blog ; @prettywitchybitch ; @seungminluv3 ; @urdeadpoet ; @hrtnovas ; @shootingc

at first, you were hesitant when your sister brought a girl home. it wasn’t that you weren’t used to guests, such company came with the territory of being a kiramman. you haven’t known this kind of company, though, and it was nerve-wracking. what kind of impression would you make? what should you expect from this mystery girl, this vi? would she like you? is she any good for caitlyn?

you’re younger, but still worry for her. you can’t help it. the first meeting comes and goes, a dinner that clearly makes vi anxious. she’s stiff and tripping over her words while trying to speak with your parents- she manages, somehow. you introduce yourself to her, and she shakes your hand. you think the skin of her palm is the roughest you’ve ever felt.

vi comes over more and more often over the coming weeks, her presence becoming less foreign. you make friendly chatter every once in a while, and your guard comes down as you realize just how happy she makes caitlyn. you’ve never seen your sister this vibrant before. whenever vi is near, there’s a certain tranquility to her; her worries are washed away in an instant, she looks at the woman like she hung all the stars in her sky.

you could’ve lived without seeing caitlyn pinning vi to a wall outside of the library, though. 

she was familiar, that was all. you didn’t start truly paying attention until the first time vi dragged her sister along- the first time you heard of her having one. evidently, their relationship wasn’t the best. nothing like the closeness you and caitlyn share. still, she intrigued you. she ate dinner with you with no regard for table manners, while vi was at least trying.

you’ve never known anyone so reckless.

so free, unapologetically themselves.

the first time she spoke to you, though, was after vi and caitlyn went off to.. wherever they would go after the formalities were over. you didn’t like to dwell on it. she was left by herself in the living room, messy eye makeup and tattered pants a sharp contrast to the pristine marble and expensive furniture. lazily tossing around the end of one of her braids, she perked up when you came into view.

“there she is,” she said, a teasing edge to her voice. you weren’t sure what to do with that. so you didn’t do anything with it.

“did they leave you here alone?”

“yeah,” jinx purses her lips. “not surprised, though. you’d have to pry vi off your sister.”

“i-” you huffed, turning your face away. the gall this girl had to speak like this, but she wasn’t wrong. “yes, agreed. do you want me to get you something to drink? would you like me to start the fireplace?”

you’re just trying to be a good host, honestly, even though it’s technically caitlyn hosting this. jinx shakes her head, though, seeing as she already had her food and refreshments for the night. she does nod toward one of the corridors, though, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips.

“fancy house,” she says.

“thank you.”

“you wanna show me around, pretty girl?”

pretty girl.

you didn’t pay any mind to the heat rising to your cheeks. you just showed her around the manor, rambling on about the history of the place. the past generations of kirammans who had lived here- not that you ever particularly cared for that history, but it was the script you stuck to when showing guests around.

in the midst of it all, you exchanged your names. jinx didn’t shake your hand, though she did tell you your name suited you. 

you could tell jinx was growing bored, though. you tried to switch tactics.

talk a little more casually, and stand with your hip popped like she did. odd, but nice, you thought. 

she pointed out bits she liked, and was vocal about the parts she hated. you were mentally adding to the list of words that could describe this girl: untamed, impolite, blunt, opinionated, strong-willed, sardonic. 

charming, as well.

even though she goes against everything your parents raised you to be, and she’s a far cry from what’s accepted in piltover, you couldn’t help being drawn to her. a sort of magnetic pull.

the life of a high-house girl might be comfortable, but it’s also sheltered. you never had any lasting friendships. the few you did have were confined to school buildings, and you fell out of touch with those people as you got older. 

this was a golden opportunity. a girl around your age who interested you, and who returned that interest.

when jinx had to leave that night, you found yourself upset at the fact she was going. you missed her when she left, and though you tried to keep it under wraps, you wanted to see her again. you started to ask caitlyn when vi would bring jinx around again, to which your sister would always say she didn’t know. 

a month later, vi finally brought her back. 

the whole night, you were practically attached to jinx at the hip. once all the niceties between her, caitlyn, cassandra and tobias were over, she spent the night by your side, chattering about her recent adventures. the things she told you were thrilling: building bombs, tagging walls, testing out her glitter bombs in the square. 

you’ve heard things about zaun. always portrayed in such a negative light. this is what members of piltovan society should avoid, you were told- though the way jinx spoke about it, so animated and with light in her rosy eyes, you knew you weren’t told the full truth growing up. you suspect caitlyn feels the same way, dating vi.

though vi is much more mellow than jinx.

that’s okay, you thought. you can handle an adventure.

this time, when jinx had to go, you asked for her phone number. she huffed, giving you a teasing comment along the lines of, “can’t get enough of me, huh?” but gave you her phone to type your number into regardless. you saw her set your contact name as your name, but with a few blue heart emojis afterward. huh. 

your first time going to jinx’s hideout, you’re not sure what to expect. it’s also your first time in zaun, which complicates things. she lent you some clothes that’d help you blend in among the masses, and told you to keep your head down.

“don’t bother anyone, don’t stare. probably best if you stay quiet, too, at least until we’re there. someone hears you talk, they’re gonna know.”

“how would they know?”

“trust me,” she huffs, like the answer is the most obvious thing in the world. “they’ll know. we have our ways.”

you didn’t push any further. just followed her instructions as you walked beside her through the winding lanes, past the neon lights and smog of the undercity. it’s just starting to get dark outside, but as you’ve heard, zaun never sleeps.

she leads you down some more narrow paths, past some teenagers fighting, which she doesn’t pay any attention to. the street lights grow dimmer, until eventually there’s no street lights, but jinx knows what she’s doing. you have to trust her, no matter how much your stomach sinks, nerves getting the best of you.

“here we are,” she says finally, stopping in front of a structure you can’t name. she leads you down, underground, then to a heavy steel door that slams behind you when you enter.

neon spray paint, dim lighting, steel platforms without railings, a tent on one platform, a little cot, with a workbench smack in the middle of the space. you weren’t sure what you expected, though it makes sense. it’s all so jinx.

“careful walkin’. can’t lose balance in here.”

“i’m getting that,” you reply. the paths aren’t that narrow, though still enough to make you scared to walk too quickly. the girl shows you her space, just like you did yours, much less formally and much faster. she explains the monkey she spray paints everywhere, shows off her collection of patchworked clothes. her mechanical engineering textbooks that she makes sure to mention were swiped from one of those ‘prissy piltie bookstores.’ you roll your eyes, but don’t interrupt.

finally, she gets to the workbench. notebooks and blueprints are messily strewn about, half-finished explosives decorating the space. she gives a little grin and exaggerated, “ta-da!”

“you built all of these?”

“with my own two hands,” she affirms. “like ‘em?”

“they’re..” you trail off, trying to find the right words. “interesting.”

“good interesting or bad interesting?”

“good interesting.”

jinx chuckles to herself, picking up one of her projects and turning it over in her hands. “i’ll take that.”

she shows you her newest contraptions and explains all of the mechanisms, as well as the upgrades she wants to make. she rattles on like all of the terms she’s using are common knowledge. for you, it goes in one ear and out the other, even though you’re listening the best you can. this is all new to you. new, and strangely exciting.

there’s a shattered mirror, a collection of perfume. that, as well as a makeup collection unceremoniously scattered in front of said mirror. your eyes linger there, and it doesn’t escape jinx’s notice.

“you like all that stuff?”

“yeah,” you murmur. “i’ve always liked your makeup.”

jinx laughs at this, genuinely laughs. a lively sound you want to hear again. though you’re not sure what was so funny about what you said.

“i just slap it on whenever i roll out of bed, but thanks.”

she pauses and purses her lips. “want me to do yours?”

you nod without thinking. a little smile comes to jinx’s face as she rolls out her chair and gestures for you to sit, which she does. she gets a few eyeshadow palettes, glitters, and lipstick tubes out, as well as a pack of unused makeup brushes. then, the girl swings one leg over your lap before sitting down.

“i’ll get a better angle this way,” she explains. your breath catches in your throat, though you try not to pay any mind. trying to think back, the last friend you had that you hung out with outside of school hours was when you were fourteen. it’s normal for friends to be this close- surely. with that, the tension releases from your shoulders and jaw.

you don’t say anything, just sit there and let jinx work. 

she swipes blue across your eyelids, uses a black pencil to give you a little smudged wing on each eye. then she moves onto blush, before putting highlighter on your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, and your cupid’s bow. 

“are you almost done?”

“gettin’ there,” she says, picking up one of the lipstick tubes. surprisingly, it’s a natural shade- jinx has a good eye. it’ll compliment you. “you’re already gorgeous, just sprucing you up a little.”

“thanks,” you murmur.

“shh, don’t talk.” the girl pops open the tube and swipes on the lipstick, careful around the outer edges to get a precise shape. but she’s still jinx, and on one of the bottom corners, it’s slightly uneven. so her tongue darts out to lick her thumb so she can clean it up, eyebrows furrowed as she compares both sides.

finally, she smiles to herself, and hops off your lap.

not having the weight there feels odd. you don’t get much time to think about it before jinx is turning the chair towards her mirror, and you see your reflection several times over in the shattered glass.

you look.. weird.

weird in a good way.

it’s bold, that’s for sure- an electric blue on your eyes? you don’t think you’ve ever done that. it’s still tasteful, though. the girl managed to strike that balance.

you look good.

“well? you’re bein’ awful quiet.”

“i like it,” you say, turning your face side to side in the mirror. it’s growing on you by the second. for all of her unruliness, this looks almost like a professional did it. “you did a good job.”

“hell yeah i did.”

you can’t help giggling at that. you turn back to jinx, who’s leaning on the workbench with her arms folded over her chest and one hip popped. her eyes are fixed on your face, though they go back to the mess of makeup products scattered on the desk. she shrugs.

“pretty as a picture. you should let me do that again next time.”

you and jinx fell into a quick routine. you’d often be over her place, or her over yours. if you couldn’t be together physically, you’d be up until the early hours of the morning, giggling over gods-know-what on your phone. your sister has asked you to quiet down more than once, and you always tell her to just go back to her room. she’s all the way across the hall!

vi didn’t have to be with her to visit, either. caitlyn would answer the door, and the second she saw jinx’s face, she’d shout up the stairs that you had a visitor. before, you’d have to drag jinx to piltover kicking and screaming. now? she’s more than willing, just to see her best friend. often showing up at the door covered in soot and smelling of gunpowder, alluding to her previous activities. sometimes battered and bruised. you might’ve questioned her at first, though the longer you know her, you learn that this is normal. to be expected, even.

without fail, each time, you lead jinx back to the bathroom connected to your room and sit her down on the toilet seat. she grumbles something about not needing to be babied, but her protests are gone by the time you’re knelt in front of her with a first aid kit. already in a matching pajama set with the lights dimmed, your eyelids heavy.

“how’s it lookin’, doc?” she huffs, then hisses through her teeth when the pad comes into contact with a cut on her leg.

you purse your lips. her wounds are superficial- a few long gashes, but nothing too deep. you mutter a soft ‘sorry’ as she winces, to which jinx waves off her hand like she’s telling you not to worry about it. the bleeding has stopped by now, all that’s left to do is get the rest of her clean.

“not too bad. you have to be more careful, though,” you sigh, concern creeping into your voice. jinx huffs and smirks weakly.

“careful is boring,” she replies. the girl then catches sight of your expression, the frown on your lips and your downcast gaze, and she presses her lips into a thin line. “..i’ll try. no promises.”

the next few minutes crawl by without another word between the two of you. only your laser-sharp focus on the cuts on her arms and legs, then the micellar water you squeeze onto another cotton pad to lightly scrub her face. rubbing at soot to reveal the scatter of freckles across her face, and the dark circles she sports proudly. 

“i’ll get you some clean clothes. you can use the shower,” you say, standing up and turning over your shoulder. jinx opens her mouth to say something, but you’re out of sight before she can. you return with a pile of warm, clean, new-looking clothes and a towel. probably more expensive than anything the girl has ever worn, unless you count wearing fishbones on her back.

“thanks,” she says, slowly taking the pile. you give her a soft smile, then promptly pull back the shower curtain to show her how to work the faucet. once you’re sure she has it memorized, you return to your room. when did caitlyn get here?

you near jump back when you see her. your sister doesn’t react, just tilts her head at you, hands folded in her lap. “father says you’re needed downstairs.”

“for what?”

“i’m not sure,” she says. “it sounded urgent, though.”

you let out a deep breath and smooth back your hair with one hand. you never refuse him. not because you’re afraid to, but rather because you enjoy helping him. you like feeling needed, and knowing that your help matters.

on the other hand, your friend is injured and exhausted. you’d feel terrible just leaving her.

“jinx is hurt.. i don’t want to leave her right now.”

the corners of caitlyn’s lips tug upward in a soft, almost knowing smile. she nods, slowly getting up and heading toward the door.

“alright, i’ll go this time. take care of your girlfriend, yes?”

“she’s not my-”

“oh, relax. i’m only teasing.” she gives a little chuckle before heading out, the door clicking shut behind her. you huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you fall back onto your bed. you hear the water click off. 

another moment, and jinx is shuffling toward your bed in the pajamas you gave her, cobalt braids now loose. you barely register it, though you do notice just how pretty she looks like this. less put-together. less of the madwoman piltover knows, more a girl just like you. your friend.

“easy,” you murmur. sleep is starting to take you by now.

“i’m fine,” she huffs. “got room for one more?”

you nod slowly, lifting up one end of the blanket and letting her scoot close to you. the girl is laid on her side, facing away from you. she settles against the pillows rather quickly. next to you, you can hear her breathing slowly begin to even out with each passing minute. 

soon, though, she whispers a small, “you awake?”

you give a little ‘mhm,’ voice laced with sleep.

“‘s a little cold in here.”

“is it?”

the girl only nods. you turn to face her, face illuminated by pale moonlight. gods, is she beautiful.

if there’s anything you’ve noticed about jinx, though, it’s that despite having body heat that can keep you warm, she’s always freezing. without thinking you open one of your arms.

“c’mere.”

the girl immediately scoots closer, settling herself against you. your arms wrap around her middle as her head nestles into the crook of your neck, warm breath tickling the skin there. 

“that’s better,” she mumbles, and you give a sleepy hum of acknowledgement. you can feel the tension draining from her body by the second as her breath evens out, until eventually, she’s limp in your embrace.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen her this still. you could get used to it.

jinx loved showing you around zaun. she says she’s catching you up to speed and making sure you’re ‘cultured.’ you might’ve thought you already were, given all the books you were raised with and the accomplished people you were introduced to, but apparently not. the neon lights and smell of smoke were foreign, yet you came to welcome them over time. impromptu gatherings, games of cards, all of it became something you looked forward to.

today, jinx decided to take you to the last drop.

“my dad used to own the place,” she explains. “before.. you know.”

you know a little bit. the girl is secretive about her past in a way that made you a bit uneasy at first. over time, though, you came to recognize that it’s a defense mechanism. it’s easier to not be vulnerable and let people in, rather than opening up and risking people using that information against her. seeing the person she is, and leaving her.

the mere thought of leaving her seems ridiculous to you, though you’re still able to see it from her point of view. little by little, she gives you slivers of her past, including her late father figure. well, one of them.

you don’t know the details. you just know that a bomb was involved, that vander died in front of her sister, and that you had to console jinx spiraling. tears pooling in her eyes while she rocked herself forward and backward, muttering something about ‘it’s all my fault’ and ‘you jinxed them, you fuck-up.’ it was the first time you saw her like that, and despite not dealing with this kind of situation before, it was like your instincts took over. you took care to ground her with your voice, then place a gentle hand on her shoulder when she was coming back to herself.

you’d do it a million times over for her, no matter how scary.

you snap back to reality when jinx announces that you’re here. stood in front of a large building, you don’t have to look at the sign to know this is the spot. the stench of whiskey and sound of bustling laughter gives it away, sets the atmosphere. you give a little smile before jinx takes your hand, practically dragging you inside.

she leads you through a crowd of rowdy patrons before sitting you down at the bar, then plopping down right next to you. 

“chuck’s usually here.. where’d he go?”

you don’t know who that is, or if she’s even talking to you. the girl cranes her head to look behind the bar, before finally spotting a tall figure rinsing out glasses. she makes a show of wildly waving her hands and shouting after him until he turns over his shoulder, and visibly deflates at the sight of jinx.

you have to stifle a laugh.

he strolls over to the counter, placing his hands down and giving a polite nod to both you and jinx. there’s a menu in front of you that neither of you look at, jinx just orders two mocktails. she’s getting you to loosen up, little by little. shake off those pesky kiramman habits. she has to meet you where you are, though, and ordering a round of shots is anything but that.

“you’re doing great, chuck,” she giggles to herself. the girl slides some bills across the table that he tentatively takes. part of you wonders what she did to make him give her that look. she shrugs like she’s read your mind, though. “gave him a couple of surprises. not my fault he’s allergic to fun!”

you roll your eyes as the drinks are passed out to you. they look a little.. odd, but good enough, a bright pink that parallels the color of your friend’s eyes. she picks up and raises her glass, turning her knees to face you.

“a toast.”

“..to what?”

jinx’s brows furrow, her expression falls. she didn’t think that far, it seems. but she lights back up within seconds, wide grin stretched across her face. “to us! to you being amazing, and to me being.. me.”

“you’re amazing yourself,” you reply, and jinx shakes her head. never modest, but somehow always shy to accept your praises. she just raises her glass higher, and you clink it against hers.

“cheers,” you say in unison, then take your drinks. you might not have expected much, but this is good. 

fruity, although not too sweet, with a citrusy aftertaste. the corners of jinx’s lips tug upward as she gazes on at you, watching your demeanor gradually relax. your shoulders open up, your spine a little less perfectly aligned, while you let yourself openly laugh at her jokes. while you sway along to the music, some underground band that neither of you are familiar with but both of you can appreciate. 

“you said your dad used to own this place?”

“yeah. he stood behind the counter just like old chuck is.”

you nod, taking another sip of your drink. by now, thieram is back to his usual duties, unoccupied with customers and moving about the back of the bar. jinx huffs a laugh. 

“i would sit at the bar when i was a kid and watch him work. sometimes he’d tell me stories about mean customers. always told me to be nice to people working jobs like this.”

you’re not sure if you would consider terrorizing the poor new owner nice, but you suppose for jinx, it is. 

“it became a kind of.. second home, i guess. sometimes i’d build bombs when i was feelin’ down, sometimes i’d come here. vander always told everyone to be nice to me and the others or he’d kick their asses.”

you snort and smile, glancing over your shoulder to survey the patrons. it’s getting close to happy hour, with various crowds forming. people playing cards and mahjong on some sides, people arm wrestling on another, rowdy chatter from all around. some people are bartering business deals. 

“a second home.. this place is kinda like zaun’s hub?”

“somethin’ like that,” she shrugs. “we have a few others. it’s a big place. but yeah, i guess it’s one of our staples.”

you nod. learning about jinx’s world was strange at first, with all of its thorns and smog, but now it’s interesting. you’re finding yourself wanting to know more and more, voluntarily coming down here to visit. putting on the same clothes jinx lent you, exploring alone and familiarizing yourself with the local businesses. if anyone could tell you were a ‘piltie,’ as jinx put it, they didn’t say anything.

“can i see the others?”

“maybe. hard to say what’s open right now.”

you both finish your drinks with idle chatter, jinx filling in little details about her favorite things here. she tells you of the shows they hold here, how the drinks have remained cheap despite higher taxes and inflation (piltover’s fault, she adds). “sometimes i still go to the shows, if i really like whoever’s playin’. a lot of the bands they bring in suck, though.”

you look at the wall clock after another mocktail and notice how late it’s gotten. that’s another thing you’ve learned about jinx: she makes a few hours feel like a few minutes. no other friend has made you feel so free, like nothing else in the world matters. 

“it’s getting late, they’re gonna want me back home soon.”

jinx looks at the clock as well and scoffs. “so? you’re grown.”

“i know, but they’re gonna start asking questions, i’m the youngest and-”

jinx cuts you off with a chuckle and places a finger over your lips. your eyes go wide before she says, “i get it, hon. ‘m just teasing. we’ll get you home.”

you end up being the one paying the tab, giving a few bills to thieram and throwing in few extra for his saint-like patience with jinx. this time, you reach for her hand as she leads you out, the girl squeezing it softly as the cold air of the night hits you. she starts toward the bridge, where she knows a late-night train will be coming. seeing you actually get on it will put her mind at ease, rather than spiraling about whether or not you’re safe.

you rock back and forth on your heels while waiting. 

“shouldn’t be more than two minutes,” jinx says. truly, you wish you had just a little more time with her. night has fallen, a veil of blurry constellations across the vast earth and the noise of the city calmed down a little. zaun never truly sleeps, though.

“i’ve never seen you get on any of the trains,” you point out. you purse your lips, and jinx gives a little smirk.

“because i don’t.”

“why do you know the schedule, then?”

“to make things easier on you,” she states, and your expression shifts to a soft smile. you squeeze the girl’s hand once again as the train approaches, before slowly letting go. it feels almost like losing a limb. your hand is supposed to be in hers, it makes sense.

“well, i guess this is it,” you sigh, and jinx’s smirk softens to a gentle smile. she takes you into her arms, squeezing you like you’re parting forever instead of just for the next few days. your arms wrap around her waist loosely, and she sighs against your shoulder.

“i’ll see ya. text me when you’re home?”

“i will,” you promise, slowly parting from her as you take your train pass from your pocket. as it pulls to a screeching halt, though, you see your sister from the window. and vi. shit.

they both spot you as they’re stepping off onto the platform- vi makes eye contact with you and gives a knowing smile. your heart pounds against your ribcage as she approaches. caitlyn is oddly silent where she’d usually greet you- and you swear, the last time they came down here, they were scaling walls and jumping from roof to roof. vi wouldn’t take public transport off her own volition.

the woman doesn’t slow in front of you, just walks past you and says, “you better be taking good care of her.”

you don’t get a chance to reply. you don’t even know what she meant, turning it over in your mind as you step into the car and take your seat. 

she thinks you’re together.

all the things you do are pretty couple-like. you’ve known that, but at the same time, you’ve always been under the guise that you’re just friends. very close friends. even if you find yourself spacing out staring at the plump curve of her lips, or counting the freckles on her face as she sleeps. laughing at jokes that aren’t even that funny, just because they’re coming from jinx.

with little experience in the way of friendships, and none in the way of relationships, you don’t have any basis for comparison.

and still, you wish you could cross that line, one way or another.

the problem is how? how would you, and how could you, when things between you and jinx are so good, even if established as platonic?

you don’t want to dwell on it, but you can’t help doing so, either. it’s growing harder and harder to suppress the feeling with time.

late at night, jinx paid you another impromptu visit. instead of coming to the door this time, she pulled the old trick of climbing up to your window and throwing rocks at it. you scoffed at her antics, asking, “what are you, sixteen?” to which she giggled. 

“always wanted to try that.”

she wanted to show you a movie she watched recently and ended up loving. it’s some trashy horror, obviously low-budget and without a clear direction in terms of writing. it has an odd charm to it, though. you can see why the girl enjoys it so much. her head is laid on your shoulder, a blanket lazily draped across your laps. the only noise is the dialogue and screams from the screen, turned up loud enough that your father will probably knock at any minute to complain. jinx’s doing.

“why does everyone think we’re dating?” jinx mumbles. you shrug, and jinx groans as her head is raised. playfully elbows your side as if to scold you.

“i mean, we do couple-y stuff, i guess.. and i do like you and all that, but-”

your head near snaps over to look at her. maybe she’s talking more to herself than you, because she realizes what she’s said, and promptly stops talking. a sheepish smile forms on her face, holding eye contact with you like her life lays in your hands. silently begging you to say something.

“..toots?”

“i- oh, gods,” you breathe out. “you’re serious?”

jinx only nods, still holding that expression. you’re not sure you’ve seen her stunned before. 

you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. your palms are sweating, your mind racing with a million thoughts per second. neither of you dares to move. “i like you too, you know,” you whisper. “if you mean it like i think you do.”

“i like you more than friends should like each other,” jinx answers, and your heart near leaps out of your chest. all you can think to do in that moment is close the narrow gap between you two, connecting your lips with hers.

slightly chapped and cold, but still perfect in every way. the girl melts into you, kissing you like she’s afraid you’ll break. slow and gentle at first as the movie is long forgotten. your hands find her waist, soft as it’s always been as you get lost in the feeling of each other.

it feels like coming home after a long vacation, like the first fireworks in a celebration. it’s everything you could’ve wanted and more.

“you really feel that way?” you whisper.

the girl nods, connecting your lips once more. “i wouldn’ta said it if i didn’t mean it.”

she kisses you again, and again, and again- climbing into your lap and tangling her fingers in your hair, whispering sweet nothings under her breath. it’s still hard to believe that this is real, when it feels like you’re floating on air.

but it is. jinx is real, and she returns the same affections you do. after so long of pretending, there’s no longer a need. your tongue teases at the seam of her lips and she immediately lets you in, growing more hungry by the second. it turns into a mess of teeth and tongue, clashing against each other like waves on a shore. all that you can think is more. more of this, more of jinx. you're already growing addicted. 

you’ve lost all sense, until there’s a soft clicking of the doorknob and you both jump away from each other. caitlyn peers in, her lips pursed, but she sees the way you’re panting. your hair  a little less pristine than usual, and the smear of jinx’s plum lipstick on your own lips.

“nevermind,” she smiles, “i’m glad you two figured it out.”

you hang your nightgown up in your closet, making a mental note to ask your housekeeper to wash it for you once you’re more alert. each vertebra stretches as you arch your back upward, letting out a yawn that releases tension from each muscle. last night’s rest was sufficient, maybe a bit too much.

as you start sifting through your wardrobe, something catches your eye in the mirror. you must not have noticed the sea of azure spread out across your bed when you woke, but it’s impossible to miss now. you turn back over your shoulder, seeing the figure more clearly: a petite woman with her back turned to you, soft blue waves of hair sprawled on your sheets. she has a white nightgown on, not different from the one you’ve just stripped off.

she doesn’t make any noise or shift, only softly breathes in and out. 

you stand in place for a moment, awestruck. surely, if a woman was in your bed, you would have remembered it- no memory of her comes to mind, though. 

you’ve never lived with any siblings. no companions have lodged. your entire life, it’s been you, your parents, the housekeeper, and the chef. guests may come infrequently, although they never spend the night.

the steady rise and fall of her shoulders puts you in a momentary trance. slowly, carefully, you step forward, one foot in front of the other, reaching out to grasp one of her shoulders.

the second you do, though, you jump back as if burned. she’s freezing, and still, completely undisturbed. if you couldn’t hear the soft exhales through her nose, you might think she was dead. that her shoulders moving was a trick of the mind.

you think you might open your mouth to try and wake her that way. perhaps ask who she is, and what she’s doing here. your heart leaps into your throat as she finally begins to stir, and then-

you sit up in your bed with a gasp, your chambers still shrouded in darkness. you blink the room into existence, then look to the spot next to you; empty, as always. 

sketching might not be the most engaging thing, but it keeps your hands busy. 

the apple trees outside of your house are your subject tonight; you’ve already perfected the shape and the flow of each intricate branch, the ripeness of each apple. now, you’re dipping your brush into the palette of watercolors you were gifted for last year’s birthday. almost all of the paints are at the bottom, though you’re determined to make it last.

since childhood, you’ve had odd dreams and visions; always of the same subject. a petite young woman, seemingly around your age, with blue waves that nearly reached her ankles. though her face has always been obscured, her voice was sometimes audible to you.

high pitched and smooth, but raspy in a way you haven’t heard in anyone else. 

years spent trying to make sense of these dreams showed no results. every time you became aware you were dreaming, you would make frantic efforts to try and gather any information about her. even just her eye color, her age, or her name- to no avail. right as you were approaching her, about to lift the sheet shrouding her identity, the dream would come to an abrupt end. 

you would be left with as many answers as you started out with.

at first, it bothered you to no end. it was a nagging question that made it impossible to rest. you would spend hours with your journal open, writing down every detail you recall from the previous night. reading previous entries and trying to see if any of them were connected, or if there were any clues you missed before.

recently, you’ve given up. endless hours of investigation bore no fruit.

the mystery was something you would always want answers to, but the thrill wore off. you came to expect this figure most nights. sometimes she would show up several nights in a row, and other times she would disappear for months on end, only to show up again right when you start to think you might be rid of her.

at the very least, her presence doesn’t weigh so heavily on your mind anymore.

with the absence of a piano playing and no ruckus outside, you’re left in relative silence.

it’s peaceful. easy to get lost in, paying careful attention to the pressure of each brushstroke. with time, the rich red begins to build up with sunlight hitting the tree from the right side–

until you hear an ear-piercing screech.

it startles you so much you drop your brush, leaving a splatter of red in the middle of the tree trunk with a gasp. it sounded close.

much closer than you should hope to hear a noise like that.

your first instinct is to peer out the window and survey your surroundings. though with darkness blanketing the earth like a veil, not much is legible to you beside the swaying of the trees in the wind, and a carriage crossing through the woodland. 

no more screaming, but the noise has stuck with you. that screech rings in your ears, curls low in your belly and beckons you to do something. find out what’s happened, put a stop to it.

your feet are moving before you can even think.

your father isn’t home, but he won’t be angered by this if he doesn’t find out. you were raised with virtues of compassion, humility, eagerness to learn, and patience. this fit at least two of those. 

besides, you still have your day dress on. there would be no risk of impropriety, either.

those rules you were raised with make your palms sweat. nearly make you turn back. the anxiety is overshadowed by the fact that you couldn’t resume your night in good conscience if you didn’t try to make sure things were okay. somebody could be in a dire situation, perhaps even on their deathbed.

they could need someone.

your hands held up your skirts as you rushed down the wooden stairs, creaking under your weight before finding your shoes in the drawing-room. fingers flying to lace them up, your heart was beating against your ribcage like a wardrum due to the exertion. once your boots are on, you swiped your keys from a hook near the door, then a matchstick from the guest table to strike a flame in your oil lamp. finally, you swing the door open, take a moment to clumsily lock it while gripping the light in your other hand.

it’s oddly windy tonight, even for a spring evening such as this. you survey your surroundings, whispering a silent prayer to the moon sitting full in the sky that she might offer you guidance and safety.

you’ve been out on the manor grounds countless times for early morning walks and sketching sessions in the warmer months. never, though, have you been allowed outside of your home past dark.

your parents tirelessly warned you that the night holds more evil than your mind could comprehend. as a child, they said crooks and ghouls lurked in the shadows. as you grew into adolescence, you were told that things beyond even their understanding were out there. when you entered young adulthood, they wouldn’t elaborate on either of those statements. every time you ask, you get the same response– “some things are better left unknown. we do not wish to confine you, but you understand that we must keep you safe, yes? do your exploring in the daylight hours. during the night, you are safest here.”

those words ring in your mind like you’re hearing them- like your parents are physically here.

after your mother was taken by consumption, your father only made the rules stricter.

you tried to be gracious and accept each one, following it carefully. he was never harsh, not a tyrannical ruler of your life, but he worried. he worried himself physically sick at times, despite your insistence that you’re a woman now. the world might have claws, but you will not let them sink into you.

his anxiety blinded him, though, and you grew more restless with each passing day. the careful regimens of the day, not being allowed to walk past the woodlands, and being forbidden from marrying until he’s sure you are ‘ready’ for callers (despite your lack of interest in marriage) bind you. they hold you in place like a corset laced too tight, so that you have to measure each breath you take and each decision you make.

cautiously, you lift the lantern to illuminate your path. having lived on these grounds your entire life, you know each crevice and burrow like the lines of your palm. the noise must have come from the path leading to the estate, not far into the forest. every second feels both too quick and like it’s dragging along.

all that you can think is someone is in need. and while it’s reassuring that you haven’t heard another noise, it also leads you to draw conclusions you don’t want to think possible.

your hair whips around you with the wind. you keep going, advancing toward the clearing in the trees to a narrow path. the last time you were here, it was to gather berries to bake with your mother. it’s been nearly two years since your last visit.

you swallow the feelings that threaten to rise with it, forcing your focus forward. someone needs you. someone’s life could very well depend on your timing.

with a misstep, your ankle gets caught in a thorny patch. you hiss through your teeth as the thorn digs into your skin, undoubtedly soiling your stockings. when you’ve managed to yank yourself free, the hem of your skirt is ruined.

no matter.

keep going, is what you keep telling yourself. the wind is milder here, the woodland serving as a barrier as you carefully illuminate your path. 

you tried to steady your breathing and beating heart. the thrill of doing something forbidden is mixed with the fear of being discovered, and you try to bite it back.

you shine the light, moving it further into the woods, eyes darting all over. 

the effort seems futile at first.

all you discover are trees and a barren cottage, which you used to play in as a child. your mother would scold you whenever she found you, telling you not to go this far. you never listened.

maybe your ears were deceiving you, you begin to think. could it have been a wild animal you mistook for a human?

until your eye catches something.

rather, someone.

laid on the ground, quietly groaning and shifting. a young woman of petite stature on her stomach near the roots of a chestnut tree, her clothes muddied and blue hair tousled out of its braided updo. her arms are held above her head as if she was in the middle of trying to crawl, but ultimately gave up. with a gasp, you drop to your knees beside her.

“miss? miss, are you okay?”

silence.

you slowly reach forward to grasp her shoulder and try to gently turn her on her back. the woman lets out a subtle groan as you maneuver her, finally lolling her head to the side. half-lidded blue eyes meet yours, making your heart stop for just a moment. 

“miss. are you alright?”

she gives a slow nod of her head as she tries to rise into a sitting position. with a wince of pain and a hiss through her teeth, though, you rush to support her back as she moves.

“you do not need to speak to me, i only wish to help,” you explain, kneeling in front of her and folding your hands in your lap. “please, allow me that.”

her eyes meet yours once again. the woman surveys you, the torn and muddied hemline of your dress, the crease between your brows. she takes in the slight frown on your lips, but her own expression remains unaffected.

“everything is alright, i’ve only had a scare,” she breathes out, finally. voice raspy and strained like every syllable hurts.

“you hardly seem alright.”

she sighs, and nods as if in resignation. when you look closer, you notice the cuts littered across her face. her skirts are lifting up at the ankles slightly, revealing splotches of blood seeping through her stockings. even in the dim light, there’s a hint of bruised skin that you can see.

silence stretches between you two, not awkward, only unsettling. she’s beautiful, that much is clear- soft freckles across her face, dark brows, pearlescent pale skin that’s seemingly glowing in the night. her eyes are bright and soft, and her lips are plump. cracked and bleeding, yet gorgeous nonetheless.

she could’ve run by now, if she had the energy. she could be begging you for help through tears. she’s done neither of those things, though, and seems to be putting her fate in your hands.

“do you have anywhere to stay?”

“no,” she says. “i did, just a few hours ago. not anymore.”

you say the words before you can even think of them. “we have ample room at my house. it is not a far walk, and i can tend to your wounds until you are well again. would you come with me?”

to your surprise, she only grumbles a little bit, but nods yet again. 

she’s given no indication of her identity or her background. you haven’t the slightest clue what put her in such a compromising situation. maybe it’s the loneliness of the house, but you feel a pull to her that you can’t explain. it’s been a mere five minutes and you want to know this woman more, you want to cling to her every word and spend every waking moment with her.

as you guide her into a standing position and hook one of her slim (and surprisingly strong) arms around your shoulders, you’re struck by how cold she is. gods only know how long she’s been out here- it only makes you move quicker. taking long strides toward the manor, while you keep a steady grip on her and try not to jostle her too much.

she’s had enough pain for one night. you don’t want to add to it.

neither of you speak the entire walk back. you’re careful for vines, stepping stones, anything that could throw off your balance. it’s an odd feeling, having someone so vulnerable in your care, when your whole life, you’ve been independent. the closest you ever had to a friend was a neighbor girl who lived at an estate a mile off- you would walk almost an hour to see her so that you could share your books, braid each other’s hair, and talk about your dreams beyond your estates.

when you were ten, you walked to her home, skin buzzing with excitement. you had just finished the most recent book she lent you, and you were itching to tell her about it. what you found when you approached the home, though, was silence. the usual lit-up parlor was dark, the home was barren. it was like she and her family had vanished into thin air.

after that, the next closest thing was your governess- but she was uninterested in her position, seemingly troubled by her own life.

as you clumsily swing the front door open, you lead the woman over to a couch and unceremoniously lowered her down. she made a little grunt of pain, but no further noise or protests.

first, you walk to the fireplace to throw a few logs in and light them with flint and steel. your father must’ve gathered wet logs, seeing as the flame took a few tries to light- eventually, though, the fire burned and began to warm the room. you can’t bear the thought of this girl being even more uncomfortable than she already is. 

sinking to your knees in front of her, you gently take one of her legs into your hand to start examining her wounds.

the best you can through her stockings, at least.

“would it be rude of me to ask what happened?”

she shakes her head with a little scoff. she seems to be a little more alert, now that she’s out of the cold. “not at all. i must have been quite the picture, injured and helpless.”

“no, that was not it. i only wanted to help, truly.”

“that’s very noble of you, but i assure you, i am alright. i only had a scare. i was on a carriage, halfway through my journey to the city, when i made a joke pointed toward the coach. i thought it was very clever, but he didn’t agree.”

your lips twitch into something like a smile, just for a second.

“and then?”

“and then i got thrown off the carriage. i landed right in a bed of vines, the thorns must have mangled my legs.”

“they are far from mangled,” you state. although you don’t have a full view, it looks to only be a few scratches. “only a few cuts here and there. although, i can’t see them very well.”

she hums in acknowledgement. “you can take my stockings off, if that will help.”

you almost gasp.

you feel heat creeping up your neck, toward your cheeks and the tips of your ears. you’re coming to find out she’s a rather bold woman, that, or she simply doesn’t care for formalities or the order of a friendship.

you’ve only just met this woman. despite your inexperience with companionship, you’re certain friends are not meant to undress each other.

you steel yourself and swallow, taking a deep exhale. it’s only stockings, you tell yourself. this is so you can help her. 

with suddenly trembling hands, your hands disappear under her skirts to find the waistband of her stockings and slowly pull them down. she lifts her hips slightly to help you, and as you peel the cotton from her legs, you see more clearly the bruises littered across her skin. a few long, although superficial cuts. the most concerning wound, though, is a large gash across her right calf. 

“you’ve stopped bleeding,” you say. “but this wound.. it is no wonder you couldn’t walk. or stand, for that matter.”

she doesn’t make any noise or protest as you examine her, only stays still. even while you’re examining her wounds, you can feel her gaze pointed at your face, how intently you focus on this. it’s the slightest bit unsettling. 

“am i hurting you?”

“no. you would know if you were.”

“okay,” you murmur. “might i ask for your name?”

the woman hesitates for a moment as your gaze flickers back up to her, but in a quieter voice, she gives it to you. “jinx.”

“jinx,” you repeat, then give her yours in return.

“a pretty name.”

you’re certain that heat hasn’t moved from your cheeks. “thank you.”

for the first time, her lips tug upward in a subtle smile, making your heart leap. you swallow in an attempt to gather yourself as you pour cold water onto the wounds, gently washing it out. if you knew you would be in this situation, you would’ve prepared some diluted wine.

jinx doesn’t react. she’s staying perfectly still, more still than you’ve ever seen a person be. you grab a roll of cotton to begin wrapping around her legs, securing it by twisting and tucking the ends in.

“do you feel any better?”

“yes,” jinx says, wiggling her legs around just a little bit. no winces or hisses like before. “this is all very kind of you, really.”

“don’t worry about it,” you respond. you offer jinx a hand to help her stand up, which she takes- and you’re struck by how cold she still is. you were sweating through your gown from the fire, and she seems completely unaffected.

you don’t pry, though. perhaps she just runs cold. with slow and careful steps, you match jinx’s pace as you help her up the stairs toward the second floor of your home. deep oak floorboards groan under your weight as you steer her in the direction of an empty bedroom.

“we have plenty of room for guests, it is a shame we don’t use it more,” you comment, and jinx hums. 

you stop at the bedroom right next to yours and push the door open with your foot. dust strikes you immediately- you’re not sure if you can recall anybody staying in here in the entire course of your life. regardless, the sheets are clean and the room is furnished.

“these will be your quarters for tonight,” you lead the girl to the bed, gently sitting her down. “i will talk to my father when he comes home, but i hope that we can help you recover. i would hate to see you suffer more than necessary.”

jinx nods a bit and gives an exaggerated yawn, stretching her arms up above her head. that half of her body seems to be unaffected, at least. you go to your room quickly enough to take a nightgown and a change of clothes for the morning, then place it on the bed next to her. 

“this is yours for tonight. we have a tub just down the hall-” you point her in the direction of it, “that you’re free to use. my chambers are only next door, so if you should need anything, i won’t be going anywhere.”

“thank you,” she says. “you really are very kind.”

“i told you, it is nothing,” you back up toward the doorway, a pang shooting through you. you don’t want to leave her side- maybe it’s empathy toward her and her circumstances, or maybe it’s the way you’ve known jinx a mere hour and she’s already managed to captivate you.

if only you could stay here longer. that would be selfish, though, especially considering the state she’s in. it goes against everything you’ve been taught, and everything you know about friendship.

so you give her a small smile, and mutter, “goodnight.”

“goodnight,” she says in return. she stands on wobbly legs, using the wall to balance her, but she seems to already be in less pain. within seconds, the woman is walking without assistance, albeit slowly.

you sigh and retreat to your quarters. you can hear the faint sound of water running just down the corridor as you unlace your corset, slip off your skirts and stockings, and step into your white nightgown. with your finger and thumb, you snuff out the candles burning on your nightstand. 

with exhaustion finally setting in, you let your hair free of its updo as you climb into bed, not bothering to gather your paints or sketches.

you only crawl under the covers, unable to close your eyes. fatigue is there, yet not strong enough to pull you under. the events of the evening keep playing over and over again; how jinx was thrown out for a simple joke, her silent gratitude, the shine of her powder-blue eyes as they looked into yours, how tired she sounded. despite all of it, she trudged on.

your father is an issue you’ll deal with come morning. for now, it feels almost thrilling to have done this. you did it out of compassion, and at the same time, this is your secret- at least for tonight. secrets are a luxury you haven’t had for much of your life.

discovering more about her doesn’t feel like a want as much anymore as it feels like a need. jinx is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. unlike any of the women in your austen novels, and a far cry from the ladies of the lyrical ballads.

eyelids beginning to droop, you roll over onto your side and let out a heavy breath. the last thing you hear before sleep claims you is the tap switching off, followed by a comfortable silence.

as predicted, explaining what happened to your father was a challenge. trying to phrase everything in a way that would make him worry the least, while also making sure he wouldn’t kick jinx out- it might be one of the hardest things you’ve done as of late.

he didn’t like the thought of a strange woman being in his home. you told him that she would be out as soon as she was recovered. he asked where she would go. when you said that she had no place to reside, he gave a deep sigh, and told you that jinx would stay. even if it was beyond her recovery time, she would stay until there was a place for her to go.

“she is better as a guest than a beggar,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “perhaps we could assist her in finding a home.”

that was all. as hard as you thought it would be, but quicker to conclude and a better solution than you thought possible.

jinx would have a safe place to regain her health- that was one of the things that excited you. the other, though, what excited you most, was that you might get to call her a friend, just as you had hoped to. 

it’s approaching ten in the morning, and jinx still isn’t awake; you debated knocking on her door and checking on her, but would she feel offended? would that be a breach of her privacy?

besides that, last night had clearly been a shock to her system. perhaps her body was trying to overcompensate for missing rest. you decided to busy yourself making lunch for her- something simple enough it wouldn’t require effort, but still savory enough that it shows effort. you settled on a welsh rarebit with brewed tea, and kept it under the stove to heat up when she woke.

until then, you sat back by the window of your bedchambers- overlooking a sunny autumn day, albeit less windy than last night. the red splotch on your painting stared at you, while you wracked your mind for any possible solution. could you make the tree darker? no, then you would have to do the same to the rest of them. maybe you could use this to alter the lighting, but all of the solutions you can think of would look unnatural.

with a groan, you tear the painting out of your sketchbook and start rapidly sketching a new rendition of it. the trees in the same spot, the apples hanging off them just the same, the only change to the piece is that this time, you add a wooden carriage emerging from the clearing in the forest. it isn’t even a thought, it’s just something that comes out of your hand.

your focus is intent on your work, until you hear a clear “hello?” from the doorway. with a gasp, your head whips around.

it must be approaching one in the afternoon now, and jinx has only just risen. she’s in a deep plum day dress that you lent her, silks hanging off her like they’re meant to be there. neater than last night, she has her hair pulled into double braids, twisted into a sort of crown round her head. her face more bright, her stance completely balanced.

“oh, hello,” you murmur, placing your paints down. “did you sleep well?”

“very well.”

you nod to her legs, covered by her skirts, but seemingly in less pain. “are you feeling better?”

“much better. there’s almost no pain now, if you can believe that.”

“do you always heal quickly?”

“yes, i suppose so,” she steps into your room, slowly coming to stand next to you near your bed. “i don’t think of it much. is it alright if i sit next to you?”

“quite alright,” you scoot over in order to give her ample room, and the mattress dips under her weight. 

“would you mind drawing the curtains?”

“oh. no, not at all.”

the request strikes you as strange, especially as the sun isn’t particularly bright today- but maybe she’s sensitive. you hadn’t asked if she had hit her head, or maybe the daylight doesn’t relax her as it does you. you don’t impose. after closing the curtains, you sit back down next to the woman, seeing her shoulders relax. her knees are turned to face you, and in this light, you can see her features more clearly.

rounded blue eyes are her most striking feature- gentle and enthralling all the same. every time they land on you, you feel something curling in you, pressing against your ribs like it’s clawing to get out. a petite nose with a low bridge, dusted by faint freckles. plump lips that seem to take on an unnatural shade of red, one that oddly suits her. dark, thick, perfectly arched brows that raised and creased with her every word and reaction.

jinx is absolutely beautiful. yet still, she isn’t perfect.

she looks almost as if she were carved from marble, skin smooth and pearlescent; yet if she were, you could see where the sculptor’s chisel had slipped. the bridge of her nose is slightly crooked, and the shape of her lips just a little bit uneven. there’s a subtle gap between her two front teeth, one you find quite endearing. from what you had seen of her legs the night before, there were already quite a few scars on her body. none of this deterred you, it only made you more interested.

jinx is statuesque. a rare kind of vision you couldn’t have imagined yourself. 

“do you often paint here?”

you nod, suddenly shy about the subject. nobody has ever asked about your sketches- nobody outside of your family, that is.

“could i see?”

with a swallow, you nod once more. picking up the new painting and placing it in the woman’s hands. she examines it carefully, silently, and her lips quirk up the slightest bit.

“your coloring is lovely,” she hums. the words and soft tone she uses send heat blooming throughout your chest, and you’re at a loss for words. “i’ve never been good at any of this. i try, though. maybe just for the fun of it.”

“surely you have strengths in other areas,” you offer. “you never told me what you were doing. before you.. ah.”

jinx chuckles and shakes her head. “you can say it. i won’t be offended.”

“..before you got thrown to the ground.”

the woman nods and clears her throat as she absentmindedly runs her fingertips over the painting. with anyone else, you might reprimand them for smudging paint or being careless. with her, all words of that kind die on your tongue.

“right. i’ve had many adventures in my life,” she explains. “i’m not sure where to start.”

“wherever you think would be best. are you married? or- oh, are you a working woman?”

jinx shakes her head with a giggle. the little piece of bang she’s left out sways side to side. “no, i’m not married. i confess, i’ve never had any interest in marrying. as for working.. i was, at one point.”

your eyes widen. your intrigue only heightens at this- a young woman, such as yourself, not interested in marrying? you thought you might be the only one in the world with that feeling. you lean forward, subconsciously, voice more breathy than you intend.

“and what did you do for work?”

a slow, small smile stretches across the woman’s lips. she pauses for a moment, lost in thought and like she’s trying to articulate them. “hm.. well, i didn’t start working until machines started appearing everywhere. one after another, after another. so many of them! i did many things here and there; whoever would have me, i was happy to work. i enjoyed steam trains the most, though. i was able to work on the engines and poke the fires, it really was a lot of fun. besides that, i never had anybody hovering near me- they knew the work was in good hands, so i was left to my own devices. i really did have a lot of fun.”

every piece of information is more interesting than the last. not only someone independent, but someone intelligent. resourceful. 

even though you’ve only just met her, you feel like you’ve known her for years. like you are relearning the life of an old friend, or a distant lover.

“most recently, i worked as a governess. a woman called sevika owned the house, who i suspect didn’t like me very much. no matter, though- i worked with a little girl called isha, and taught her french. she never spoke a word, but she was excellent in her reading and writing.”

“a governess,” you repeat. “you are educated?”

“hm, not formally. but you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

she’s right there. it brings a soft chuckle out of you.

independent. resourceful. intelligent. stunning. a good sense of humor.

does this jinx have any faults?

“did you and isha get along well?”

“we were great friends! young, but so bright. she had such a love for learning. i would help with other subjects as well, but french was always her favorite. that girl would read the french dictionary and find enjoyment in it.”

the smile on your lips only gets wider with each passing second. you’re forced to recall your own governess- the boredom on her face every time she taught you, how hurried each lesson was. how eager she was to retreat to her quarters, even when you had questions about the contents of the day’s lessons.

“my governess gave me french lessons,” you say, seeing jinx’s eyebrows raise the slightest bit. “the information never stayed with me, though. i suspect she did not like her position very much.”

jinx gives a scoff. she rolls her eyes, and scoots the slightest bit closer to you- making your eyes widen and your palms sweat. you grip the edge of the bed, trying to keep your bearings. “well, she shouldn’t have been a governess. i’ll teach you, if you would like.”

“you would do that?”

“sure,” she replies. “i must do something to earn my keep here, surely.”

“you are injured, there’s no need for you to earn anything.”

“but i would like to,” jinx says. one of her hands- just as cold as the night before- rests atop yours, sending shock waves through your system, making the air around you feel charged. how does she already have such a hold over you? “you have been something of a savior.”

the smile on jinx’s lips tells you she means this in jest, but you shake your head with an amused scoff. you? a savior? that’s a title you’ve never considered.

“hardly. i saw an injured woman and brought her into my home to recover.”

“now i am recovered, and i must thank you.”

you sigh, shoulders dropping. with her hand still resting over yours, you tilt your knees to face hers and place your free hand atop hers. “alright. you may teach me- but humor me, jinx. whatever happened to isha?”

jinx’s smile didn’t waver, though her voice dropped to something softer. a bit less playful. “that i cannot tell you, i admit i was unwelcome in the estate after some events unfolded– unrelated to isha, of course– and i was forced to take my leave. i think about her often, though. i’ve always hated formalities, but how i miss that little scrawl of ‘mademoiselle jinx.’ even though i insisted that simply ‘jinx’ was alright.”

“i’m sure she thinks of you, too,” you murmur. “it seems you had quite an impact on her, even if your time together was brief.”

jinx doesn’t say anything to that. her gaze holds yours, her smile softening, and you squeeze her hand. the spell of the moment is broken when you hear your name called from downstairs. your father must need something- you sigh as you rise from the bed.

“i made lunch for you. i will warm it, then take my leave,” having to say those words sends a pang of something you don’t quite recognize through you- hurt? longing? neither of those are rational feelings, and you know that. especially considering you’ve known jinx less than twenty-four hours.

it’s beyond your control, though. jinx has already burrowed into the depths of your mind, curled herself up and found a home there.

the next month felt slow, but passed quickly.

you’ve heard the saying that time passes quicker when you’re enjoying yourself, but every moment with jinx felt drawn-out. it felt slow in the best way, like you wanted to bite into it and keep it going just a little longer.

the woman always rose in the afternoon, despite retiring to her chambers at a reasonable hour. she would emerge refreshed, as beautiful as the first time you saw her- with no mention of her abnormal schedule. you might’ve questioned it, yet this was your first real friend. never mind the neighbor girl you grew close to years ago.

some nights, you would wake up feeling dizzy and disoriented, confused as to how you got in the position you were in. you didn’t remember unbuttoning the first two buttons of your nightgown’s collar, and you couldn’t explain the symmetrical twin puncture marks on the pulse point of your throat.

they were painless, and you would come back to yourself in due time. it may have been strange, but you never questioned it. perhaps you forgot to fasten all of the buttons in your exhaustion. maybe there were mites or bed bugs- you made mental notes to alert your housekeeper.

no matter what, though, you did not tell jinx.

you didn’t want to risk anything that could upset her. you didn’t want to press too hard, despite the overwhelming need to know more.

to know about what she occupied herself with in the mornings, the details of all of her past adventures, the inner workings of her mind. the inner workings of her mind fascinated you the most, and made you the most worried for her.

there are evenings you find her talking to nobody in particular, telling them to leave her alone and tugging at her hair. sometimes you can hear her pacing the room, other times you’re certain you hear her screaming. is she a madwoman? surely not, not with how quickly she recovers from these episodes- but you wouldn’t be deterred if she was. 

some nights, jinx spends hours cradled in your arms while you gently reassure her. other nights, she rants to you through broken sobs, most of her words unintelligible.

none of it makes you any less inclined to be around her. it only makes you want to hold her closer, and chase away every voice that dares disturb her peace.

you may not know her past, but you can help her in the present. 

jinx enjoys going on walks with you, citing it as a refresher for her mind. she only does so when it’s overcast, though, giving the excuse that the sun hurts her skin and eyes. at first, you found it a bit odd, yet again, you never questioned a thing.

it’s worth it to have someone to walk with, to share your world with. you point out the fountain you used to play in as a small child, as well as the tree you read under as a young teenager. jinx takes all of the information in with a small smile, sometimes grabbing your hand and giving it a soft squeeze.

you found a home for yourself on one of the stone benches. the woman went through your home library and found a substantial amount of french books- which she studied, then picked out information she thought would be helpful to you. 

“the easiest way to speak in the past tense will be passé composé, at least for now,” she explains, flipping to a section that focuses exclusively on the subject. “i know, it’s all very formal. boring. unfortunately, it’s your only option right now.”

“it’s all so confusing,” you sigh. your eyes scan over the words, all a jumble to your mind. “how did you manage?”

“with patience.” 

jinx flips to another page that explains the sentence structures and gives examples of the tense, angling the book so that you can see it better. the outsides of her thighs are pressed against yours, and your heads are close enough that the loose hairs from her fringe brush your cheek.

“here. remember all of the vocabulary we’ve gone over, and try. no need to be perfect, just try.”

you’re not sure where to start. 

jinx is a much better teacher than your governess ever was, that much was clear from the beginning. though you’re still not very confident in your french abilities, she always pushes you to do more. go outside of your comfort zone. never beyond your limits, and always beyond what you thought was possible. 

the girl’s eyes stay fixed on your expression, ready to jump in whenever you might need it.

“je me suis..”

“yes,” jinx encourages, her tone growing higher. 

you clear your throat. what was the word for ‘friend’ again? your brows furrow as you try and just concentrate on everything she’s taught you-

“je me suis fait une amie.. adorable?”

jinx gasps and squeals as soon as the words leave your mouth. 

“ah! you flatterer, you,” she giggles, and you descend into a steady stream of laughter with her. she playfully bumps her shoulder against yours, and your noses bump into each other. something about this moment feels familiar, like a shared memory between the two of you, but you cannot place it despite your efforts.

“i am no flatterer,” you smile, tilting your head. “did i say it right?”

“yes, lovely, you did,” she affirms. “you may not have confidence in your abilities, but i think you’re doing wonderfully.”

now it’s your turn to giggle. you hope that the heat rising to your cheeks goes unnoticed by jinx, that the way your eyes light up at each of her praises isn’t too obvious. you keep telling yourself that this comes with learning something new, this sense of accomplishment. that doesn’t explain the want to be closer to your tutor, though, or the feeling of something blooming in your chest when you retain information. when she tells you how well you’re learning.

it’s simple admiration for the skills she wields. bilingual, a good teacher, and not nearly as uptight as half the other governesses you’re sure are out there.

jinx’s smile widens at your expression, waiting for your flustered laughter to die down before she coaxes you to face her with her forefinger under your chin. your noses almost touching, your faces so close that the both of you are sharing breath, it feels as if the air has been sucked from your lungs.

what a wonderful feeling, you think.

“pour vos connaissances,” the girl whispers. “je pense que tu es la plus belle chose que j'aie jamais vue.”

you don’t understand half of what she’s said, try as you might to decipher it. 

something about it, though, that raspy tone jinx said those words in- makes the heat grow even stronger. makes your breath catch in your chest as your eyes meet hers once again, and subconsciously, you lean into her touch.

“yes,” you murmur, feigning understanding. “indeed.” 

with ample time, your father grew used to jinx’s presence, and came to welcome it.

you’ve become so much more lively in this short time, it would’ve been difficult for him to not notice. 

he might not see you trailing after her like a lost puppy, desperate to keep talking, or her leaning her head on your shoulder and slumping against you when her energy’s run out. always at the oddest times, that girl- never exhausted late at night, when she should be.

he does see jinx whispering into your ear while at dinner, though, bringing a smile to your face. while he may scold you, he truly does appreciate that you’ve found a friend- someone who you can practice your braiding skills on and who can keep your secrets under wraps. although he never did much to encourage friendships in your childhood, your father supposes it’s important for a young woman to have at least one or two.

he doesn’t poke or prod. although jinx has long recovered by now, and has reported looking for employment, she’s stayed and burrowed her way into your daily routine. into your mind, your heart. the woman has left a bigger imprint than she’s realized- engraving each letter of her name into your veins.

after another session of french lessons, wherein jinx taught you about indirect and direct object pronouns (most of which flew over your head, but you pretended you understood. besides, her voice was enough to keep you listening), you were ready to retire. although you slept well the previous night, you were exhausted- the type of exhaustion that seeps through your skin and into your bones. with heavy eyelids, you brushed a kiss to jinx’s cheek and whispered your goodnights as to not wake your father.

after bathing and climbing into bed, you laid on your side and curled into yourself, finally allowing your heavy eyelids to fall closed. it isn’t long at all before you feel sleep begin to take you, and it feels gentle. like being lowered onto a cloud, your mind blank and tranquil.

all that’s audible at this time of night is crickets chirping and the swaying of tree branches, the winter wind whistling quietly. it doesn’t take long for you to get the rest you so desire, sleep taking you into its merciful arms.

you’re just beginning to dream, something peaceful and blank. nothing vivid or unsettling like dreams that have plagued you in nights past.

until the sound of floorboards creaking breaks the spell, and you realize you’re hearing jinx pacing around.

this is far from the first time you’ve heard it, though it isn’t usually this loud. or this rampant. it’s as if she’s running laps around the room, frantically searching for something. this isn’t something you’re used to- part of you finds it grating, and the other part finds it concerning.

you groan under your breath, eyes still closed. you simply want to rest. the urge to turn over and fold your pillow over your ears is strong, but rivaling it is the tug towards her room. she is your friend, isn’t she? you’ve comforted her before, and you suppose this is no different. 

you groan, lifting a fist to your eyes to rub the sleep out of them. your head feels lighter than you remember it feeling, and your neck is faintly throbbing. you slowly lift two fingers to check the junction at your throat, the usual spot- and like you’ve grown used to, two symmetrical puncture wounds rest there. 

unidentifiable and mysterious as they may be, your friend could be in danger. there are more pressing matters at hand.

with a heavy sigh, you swing your legs over the side of your bed and pad over to the door. twisting the knob slowly, quietly as to not draw attention, then approaching the door next to yours. you raise your fist, slower than usual as you try to shake the lightheaded feeling, and give three slow knocks.

“jinx?” you say, voice hushed. “is everything alright?”

suddenly, the pacing stops as you push the door open.

all of the noise comes to a halt as jinx’s figure comes into view. her blue hair is undone, loose in tight waves and down to her ankles. her eyes a glowing magenta instead of the usual gentle blue, while her chest heaves. 

you realize now that since her moving in, you haven’t been inside the quarters jinx has claimed- and you haven’t seen her past the time you usually retire.

as she slowly turns to you, panting, a trail of pink following her turning head, you see the front of her white nightgown. 

absolutely covered in blood, dripping with it, her chin down to her sternum soaked. 

your eyes widen and you clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle your gasp, staggering backward in the doorway. jinx’s lips are parted and painted with that very same crimson, a violent rouge. you can faintly see the tips of sharp canines, glinting in the light.

she looks less like a common, educated lady, and more like a bloodthirsty beast.

“jinx,” you breathe out. 

she looks at you, eyes softening the slightest bit. even through your shock, you can notice the familiar mannerisms- the tilting of her head, as if the woman is studying you. the subtle tug at the corner of her lips. 

any feeling of confusion is gone. you’re more alert than ever right now- sensitive to every jitter of her body and every breath she takes. the woman before you is no less of the friend you’ve become familiar with, yet now she’s something changed. something oddly familiar to you, like you’ve spoken with her in nights past.

the more time passes, the less afraid you are. the more fascinated you become.

“darling,” she whispers. “why are you awake at this hour?”

“..what happened?”

the light emanating from jinx’s eyes slowly fades, as the hue shifts back to blue. with one linen sleeve, she wipes her mouth and licks her lips, quietly swallowing.

“nothing. i don’t suppose this looks like nothing, though, does it?”

you swallow. “no, it doesn’t.”

jinx sighs, pressing her lips into a thin line as she beckons you closer with one finger. as you approach, you pass your own reflection in the mirror, growing closer to jinx’s physical self. and yet, jinx’s reflection is absence. in the looking-glass, your image stands alone.

seeing her closer, you notice the blood starting to dry up and crust on her lips. her once-pale fingertips are stained with the liquid, as her eyes shakily meet yours. in this light, with her hair falling around her face like a mourning veil, a realization hits you like a slap to the face.

you have seen her before. more times than you can count.

that blue-haired woman who lingers in your dreams, visiting you every now and again. weaving mysteries you’ve never been able to solve until now.

the pale hand that would reach out for you in your dreams belonged to the very woman you took in- that loose sea of waves was jinx’s. the voice that called out for you had the same rasp that jinx’s does.

your lips part. you realize you must look dumb, staring at the woman like this, but you’re at a loss for words. gradually, she steps closer to you, and any person in their sound mind might be running by now.

not you, though. 

“i know you,” you breathe out.

“yes,” she replies. “i suppose you do.”

“why would you hide this from me?”

“as to not frighten you,” the woman murmurs. she grasps both of your hands in hers, transferring sticky, half-dried blood onto your skin as well. your eyes don’t leave hers. “i have been visiting you for a long time now; you’ve figured that out quicker than even i thought possible. you’re a very clever girl. i just.. i did not intend for all of this to happen so soon. to meet you face-to-face, although i’ve yearned for it, for you. i’ve known you for a very long time.”

“as i have you,” you sigh. “i just.. do not understand.”

jinx only studies you for a moment. your expression, your tone of voice.

she’s expressed in moments past how afraid she is to be alone- despite the fact it’s the most familiar state of being to her. nothing frightens her more than having nothing and nobody. that fear, deep-seated and embedded into her very being, is less about being lonely, and more about the belief that she isn’t worth staying around for.

that nobody could have the patience or care to be friends with someone as unstable, as unconventional as her. the thought that somebody could love her is near unimaginable.

“i’ve seen you from afar. visited your dreams, if only as a window into your life,” she explains. “i know, it must sound terrible. how selfish of me! but you must understand, it was an indulgence. i did not intend for it to become real, as much as i wanted it to- i did not place myself on that path, and i did not throw myself off of that carriage.”

“all of this is mere coincidence, then?”

“yes. coincidence,” jinx says. her voice is growing more desperate by the second, her head tilting. her eyes growing larger, a silent plea for mercy on her poor soul- if she even has one, you now question. “if you wish me to leave, i will. but please tell me gently, and please know that i do care. truly.” 

“don’t go.” is your immediate response.

the woman’s eyes widen.

this time, you squeeze her hands in response, the shock of the blood wearing off. 

you remember reading about the supernatural as a small child. tucked away against the bay window, you would lay and read about ghosts and goblins of all kinds. vampires, though, blood-sucking monsters with hearts of steel and souls chained by dread, frightened you the most.

you recognize that the blood soaking jinx’s face and night dress must be yours.

the puncture wounds you’ve grown close to, you realize now, are the same distance apart as her two canines.

instead of fright, though, you feel pity, you feel sympathy.

compassion. 

slowly, one of your hands cups the woman’s cheek, and she melts into it.

“i will not leave you alone,” your voice is hushed, rivaling only the wind. 

jinx lets out a heavy sigh, turning to press a kiss into your palm. she looks back at you, then, with possibly the warmest gaze you’ve ever seen in a person. like she’s looking at a greek statue, or the person dearest to her.

“jinx,” you start. “have you ever been in love?”

“i have not. i never shall, unless it should be with you.”

“no. repeat after me. puis-je vous demander..”

“puis-je vous demander,” you repeat, though the rhythm isn’t the same. your french sounds a bit more choppy than jinx’s- like an automaton.

“say it quicker. more confidence. nobody is looking for mistakes,” she says.

the two of you have continued the same routine, walking during overcast days and sitting on a stone bench for your regular french lessons. today, jinx’s focus is on essentials for travel and business. despite you telling her that because you aren’t a working woman like she is was, you won’t need this, the woman insisted.

“as your friend,” she assured you- and somehow, that word made your stomach turn- “i must make sure you’re prepared for whatever might come your way. better to be prepared, yes?”

you clear your throat, remembering the advice she’s given you: more confident. quicker.

“puis-je vous demander..” you start, and she nods, silently encouraging you to continue. “puis-je vous demander comment vous rendre au.. Centre-ville?”

“yes!”

jinx claps her hands together loudly, with no regard for her volume. you descend into a fit of steady laughter as she wiggles around in her seat. 

neither of you have talked about what happened the other night. 

you feel it would be uncouth to bring it up. maybe jinx doesn’t want to talk about it, and that’s why she hasn’t brought it up. maybe she’s trying to protect you, and your feelings.

all you know for certain is that since that night, you haven’t woken up with a soreness on the side of your throat. the skin has been completely spot-free, and there’s been no dizziness or confusion.

“jinx,” you murmur, pressing your lips together. “why are you teaching me all of this?”

“i told you,” she says, raising a dark brow and smiling. as if she thinks you’ve said something funny.

“no. french.”

“because you said your governess was not interested in teaching you,” she states, matter-of-fact. to jinx, this all must be incredibly obvious.

“but why do you think it would be valuable to me?”

“because it is a good skill to have, speaking multiple languages.”

“in whose eyes?” you sigh. you’re not angry, and you aren’t upset- you don’t know what you are.

confused. puzzled. that’s it.

as to why jinx has become such a close friend of yours, and insists on treating you like she might a lover- likely knowing that you feel for her like you would a lover, as well. but she acts coy, she acts as if this is all part of a normal dynamic.

she should never be in love with anyone, unless it is you- but is it you?

“should i become a teacher one day? or will it be impressive when i marry-”