can't find a god, a love, a jesus, a father

                               MEET YALE JACOBSON // A QUICK NAVIGATION.

The night had been filled and Addy honestly just needed a second to sit. She found a spot near the end of the bar, farthest from everything going on and sat for what felt like the first time in a while. She debated another drink. Weighting the pros and cons and how much she thought her head would hurt in the morning and if she would still have enough tokens left for coffee if she did. 

Instead her attention is pulled to the voice of the girl next to her. Addy wasn’t sure if Yale was talking to her or not. She looks around for a second, making sure Yale isn’t in the middle of a conversation with someone else that Addy isn’t about to interrupt. When no one immediately answers Yale, Addy jumps right in.

“Or they have a friend who bullied them into it.” Addy laughed considering that is what she kept telling Fletcher he had done to get her up there. “Or both. That was my case.” Addy laughed again. Yale was right though. Almost everyone in the bar had some sort of drink in hand and Addy is sure that was part of the reason she saw so many people on stage tonight.

“Though I like to think me and Fletcher weren’t this embarrassing.” Addy nodded in the direction of the stage.

“The floppy haired kid?” Yale asked, raising an eyebrow. No, she was pretty sure they hadn’t been this wasted - but she was only half paying attention to the stage, really, more focused on sneaking more drinks when she could. It wasn’t as if she didn’t use all her tokens for alcohol anyways - her coffee addiction had warred with her alcohol addiction, and only one ran triumphant - the least they could do was give her some for free for even debating taking part in all of this. 

“You two weren’t bad,” she shrugged, though she genuinely couldn’t be bothered to remember that long ago. “I’m just hoping the wonder twins don’t go up - I have to see them enough at home, I don’t think I can handle them looking lovingly into each others eyes and devoting themselves to their eternal sisterhood.” The Wood girls were nauseating under the best of circumstances, and things had certainly not been that lately. 

“so i’m guessin’ that duet of ‘sisters are doing it for themselves’ i signed us up for isn’t anything you’re gonna be down for?” 

colette slides into the bar stool next to her sister, half drunk beer clutched firmly in her hand, she’s fairly sure she’s making a significant dent in the town supply all on her lonesome at this stage of the night, the dark clouds she’d been weighed under earlier in the night fading away with every glass she drunk (she’d apologize to ray when she was sober, offer to help him whip up his next batch if he needed an extra set of hands - he didn’t need to know that her complete lack of skill in the kitchen department probably translated into brewing as well).

she stumbles upon her sister mostly by chance, she’d been convinced yale hadn’t even been in attendance before, pretty sure her sister had better things to do then hang out with a bunch of townies and pretend to be a popstar, but honestly she should have known better - where there was booze a jacobson girl could always be counted on to be not far behind.

“somewhere out there in the great beyond annie lennox is blowing out the hugest sigh of relief that her song remains unbutchered by the two of us.”

"absolutely not,” yale snickered, though she’s focused more on her sister’s appearance than she is the comments made. colette hadn’t been okay - not by a long shot - in quite awhile. she’d never admit it to yale, never admit it to anyone, but she could see the stress breaking her down, the way her eyes didn’t crinkle as much when she laughed, the dark circles from lack of sleep under her eyes. 

she wanted to fix it. this was why she had come to find colette, after all. to take care of her. to make sure she was okay. but they were jacobson’s - nothing was ever going to be okay for them. it was a curse, brought down on them from ann, something they’d never really be free from. 

‘community’ wasn’t something yale had ever really been fond of. sure, back home in nebraska, she’d had her small group of friends to count on, to look after and know they’d keep an eye on colette while she was gone. but that was hardly community - or at least, not a positive one by most standards. 

living in fairvale sometimes felt like some sort of surreal trip on acid. they had lost a fair number of their town in the past two months already, and now they were having a karaoke night like nothing was happening around them. like they’d be able to go back to their houses at the end of it, turn on netflix and relax. 

sometimes, yale wondered if she was the only sane one in town. 

but it was at the bar, which was where she spent most of her nights anyways, and she could silently mock from her end of the bar top - as far away from the commotion as possible - while still ‘reporting’ on the event for the paper. the next issue would have to come out in a couple weeks, lest people think it was a fluke, and the inane bullshit these people found themselves partaking in was a gold mine of satire, even if no one else read it as such. 

a smirk crossed her features as the next duet performed - a classic 80s bop everyone knew but could hardly stomach unless they were wasted - and she picked up her own drink, mostly talking to herself though there were people surrounding her anyways. “i’m beginning to think these aren’t watered down tonight,” she snickered, “because there’s no way anyone would do this mostly sober.” 

“Oh, I can assure you - I have no interest in stepping foot in your place.” He had enough of his own reminders of high school around town to deal with, he certainly didn’t want the added teenage drama of whatever the Wood sisters and Colette had managed to kick up. “No offense. You may feel some obligation to them all but I do not.” It was true that Merrick and Colette had been out there with him, had probably seen him at his worst - and he was most certainly not interested in stirring any of that back up any time soon. 

“What if precious Colette is somehow part of this mass orgy?” Vic remarks, raising an eyebrow at her. It could happen, couldn’t it? “You did leave her there in hormones central. Honestly, it might not be safe for you to go back there.” It’s a joke, mostly - he’s sure the place is perfectly safe, though he doesn’t know all the details as to why Yale chose to leave in the first place or even if those were legitimate. The fact of the matter was simple; he wanted to keep her here to himself for as long as he could. 

“I don’t remember saying Colette was welcome,” Vic pointed out after taking another bite of the peach once it had been returned - not that he really cared one way or another who stayed in the house.

“Didn’t the Spice Girls teach you anything, Vic?” she smirked, “if you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends. And let’s be honest, that really just means Colette for me.” There weren’t many others she’d even consider labeling something like ‘friend’ - not in Fairvale, certainly. Vic was...something different, now, and he’d been as close as she’d had in a long time. Not a boyfriend, because that connoted commitment that Yale couldn’t promise ( or couldn’t hold onto as a promise, not like most would prefer ) but not just ‘friends with benefits’ either. He was just....Vic. 

“I don’t think I have to worry about her entering the mass orgy, either,” she shrugged easily - Colette had found herself in her fair share of love triangles and rectangles throughout the years, but these one seemed very Wood family centric. Yale didn’t bother to learn the details more than two sisters, one guy. 

It was a familiar enough story that she didn’t need to know any more details. There was never a happy ending to that kind of situation. 

Victor was well aware that Yale’s stay at his place was only temporary. She had said as much when she’d first come over and, besides, she did have her own family to worry about. Not that Colette really needed Yale to be there, she could live on her own or with the Woods without Yale - but he couldn’t blame her for wanting to live with family, either. At least, it made sense in an abstract sense. Since leaving home at eighteen he didn’t really know much about family, and he’d always been an only child. But still. 

So he knew it was coming, the words she spoke as he puttered aimlessly about the kitchen. And it would be a lie if he were to say he wasn’t a little disappointed to hear them. He found that he liked having her around - to wake up to her in his bed, to have her to himself for a handful of days…

He settled on a peach from the farm to snack on, taking a bite of it as Yale fumbled over her words. An eyebrow quirked upwards and he tried to suppress the smirk that came to his lips. 

“Of course, yeah,” he said in agreement to her words about heading home. “You’re always welcome here, Yale.” For sleepovers, or otherwise. 

“And uh - yeah…I mean.” He pauses, “I like…this.” Whatever this was. It didn’t need a name, as far as he was concerned. He just liked spending time with Yale, one way or the other.

Yale couldn’t stop the smile that spread on her face - she was like a fucking school girl, and it was nauseating to herself when she lay awake at night, but also she had to admit that she liked that Vic liked her. That he wanted to spend time with her. That somehow, just by being herself - the worst version, usually - he still wanted her around. 

It wasn’t something that had happened in a long time. Not something that could be reciprocated, at least. Not something that could be enjoyed. 

“I would invite you to my place,” she said, “but I don’t think you’d have a lot of fun there. I swear, it’s literally high school there.” Her nose scrunched, the idea of being trapped in a small space with that many hormones - it was enough to drive her up a wall. Enough to drive her across the kitchen, at least, standing next to Vic and stealing the peach from his hand to take a bite of it herself before handing it back. “Chances are I’ll be back here before too long. Though, if they’re all screwing in some sort of mass orgy, I’m taking Colette with me.” 

Really, it was a tempting idea on it’s own - there were a thousand empty places in the small town, but she got that resources were limited enough. So she’d make due with keeping a tab on Colette as much as possible, and crashing elsewhere - Victor’s, specifically, as long as he’d have her - when she needed to. 

Gossip. 

Jesse clicked his tongue, any work that had been laid out on the desk now rendered useless as Yale settled herself onto the desk in front of him. “What makes you think I have gossip to provide you with, Yale?” And even if he did have gossip he wasn’t about to give it to her - the last thing he needed to add to his list of problems was Yale spreading gossip around town. 

But her paper had been a pretty good success, from what he’d heard around town. Another piece of normalcy that they could all hold onto. Even if only for a few minutes. Sometimes all people really needed was a few words on a page to lighten the mood. Reassurances. Hope.

Gossip though? Yeah, he just didn’t think that would be the best thing for the town, really. Especially because he knew who might be put in bad light in such things.

“Bored?” He repeated, tipping his head as he leaned back in his chair. “Sorry to hear that. I’m fine, by the way. Good to see you again and well, too, and all that.”

Yale sighed dramatically, flipping her hair over her shoulder and rolling her eyes, “Hi, Jesse, how are you, I hope you’re well - now that that’s done, can we go back to the point of my presence?” 

It wasn’t that she hadn’t been worried about him when he was in the clinic. She had been. Him and Noel had both been stuck in quarantine, and she’d been so determined to ensure nothing sinister had happened she’d gone to the old lady’s house poking and prodding. Not that he probably knew that - she hadn’t exactly visited when people were on the mend, either. She was never good with sick people. That was her excuse. 

“I don’t want gossip like you’re thinking,” she continued, crossing her legs and tapping her pen against her notepad, “I don’t care who’s sleeping with who and who just stole the last beer from the bar before they found more. I want details about things like, why aren’t we sending runners out to get more supplies if we’re running low? Or what the council is doing to ensure the water issue doesn’t happen again? Or, maybe a story about why we keep recruiting more people for our town when our supplies are running so low, we can barely keep ourselves from running out?” 

She raised an eyebrow at him - she wanted something good, some rationale behind some of the decisions that had been made behind closed doors lately. Since starting the paper she’d been slacking with her town recorder job - and with the chaos of a mass illness and trying to make sure Colette was okay ( Yale knew she wasn’t, though Colette would never admit to it ) she had been letting some things...slip. 

finding a story for her second edition was proving harder than she thought possible. the reception to the paper had been good, mostly - a few people had scoffed, but most had been excited about the premise of a monthly paper. something to look forward to. and she’d had more submissions come through for fiction pieces, fluff pieces about the importance of family, a few more art submissions, but the actual point of the paper - hard hitting journalism - well, that was harder to come by. 

which meant it was past time to bug her favorite councilman - not that she’d ever tell him that. sure, the others were fine in their own ways, and she’d certainly built a rapport with a few of them, but jesse was always the easiest to get a rise out of, to keep her amused. 

and, quite frankly, she’d been kind of avoiding him. it was easier to do than most people would assume, but this thing blossoming between her and victor was precarious as it was - avoiding the others she had ( complicated, unreciprocated, complex ) feelings for was probably for the best. 

but she could only amuse herself for so long. 

“i need some gossip,” she demanded, sliding herself onto his desk in the council’s office with her notebook in hand. “something good i can look up and research. i’m bored, the town is bored, and i can’t have my follow up issue flop after such a successful debut. whatchya got for me?” 

yale couldn’t stay locked in victor’s house forever. though, she had to admit, she was tempted. a few days had stretched between them, the attraction that had been building between them had kept them from needing to slip anywhere else for a little while, but she had to return to her own home - to her sister, most importantly - before too long. 

before she got comfortable. before he got comfortable. 

she’d never been big on affection - not outside of sex, at least - but she found her fingers trailing over his arms as they moved around one another, a lingering kiss on his shoulder as she passed him to get herself a glass of water, a grin over the notebooks she had spread around her as she used his living room as a home base for the next edition of the paper. 

her bag was packed, but she couldn’t just disappear on him. even worse, in her mind at least, she didn’t want to just disappear on him. 

“so, uh, i think i’m gonna spend the night back at my place,” she said, her backpack by the door when she found him in the kitchen. “i don’t wanna leave ‘lette alone too long with the sunshine twins - i don’t need them starting a cult or anything.” her teeth sank into her bottom lip, even as she leaned against the doorway, hesitant to come closer - it wouldn’t take much to make her forget about going back, to take up residence in his bed once again. “but we should do this again. not the sleepover part, unless you wanna. but us. what we’ve been doing.” she felt like a moron, jumbling her words like this. “if you want.” 

He couldn’t put his finger on when the moody woman from the bar had started to become a little more than that to him. It might’ve been all the nights they’d spent in quiet company nursing their drinks. Or perhaps just because he liked the way she was - that she didn’t put up with the bullshit and she took what she wanted without asking. Maybe there wasn’t a reason, maybe there didn’t have to be. He liked her company. He liked spending time with her. 

And he liked the feeling of her lips against his own. He liked the feeling of her skin beneath his fingertips as his hands slipped beneath the bottom hem of her shirt. He liked, in the moment, not having to think about anything more than having her right here and now. 

Not to mention that shift in her voice, the slight breathlessness to her words already as she parts their lips and he follows just a bit. “What’d you expect, mediocre?” He acts mock offended only for a second before she’s pulling him down by the neck and anything else he could’ve said is silenced by her lips. 

He doesn’t know how far he wants to take it, not willing to risk another bump in the road. After all, she’d fled when he’d simply given her a compliment. But he can’t help but want his hands on every inch of her skin, to hear his name on her tongue soaked with lust. 

His fingers trail down her hips to hook around her thighs, pulling her up against him to support her weight and bring her back up to his level. His lips part from hers now to trail down across her jaw, to nip down the side of her throat. There’s a noise deep in the back of his throat as the tip of his nose smooths over the skin he’d just kissed. “Should we move this to the bedroom, then?” He asks in a voice not much more than a whisper in his ear, his cheek pressed to hers.

She can feel a laugh, blooming in her throat and threatening to give her away as he lifts her up with an ease that she hadn’t expected from him. He’s taller than her - who isn’t - but that rarely meant anything. She’d had just as many guys nearly collapse trying to hold onto her as anything else. She’s glad he’s not one of those - the ones who look stronger than they actually are - and that she seems to be like a feather in his grasp. It makes it easier for her to extend her neck, letting his mouth cover her skin, her thighs to clench tighter around his waist as she wraps them around him. 

“Yes,” she nodded, not even bothering to hesitate - if he wanted to put the breaks on things, he could do so at any time, but she certainly wouldn’t. “Absolutely, bedroom, now.” Not that she could direct him - she can barely focus on anything more than getting to touch as much of him as he’ll allow - her fingers trace his skin underneath the hem of his shirt until she’s tugging at it, trying to get it off of him so she can see him more. 

It’s her own shirt she loses first, though, grasping the edges of it to raise it over her head before tossing it to the side - if Javi and his sisters come back to the house, they’ll surely have questions, but she doesn’t really care. It’s not the first place she’s lost a shirt, and more importantly, she wants to feel his skin against hers, to know that she hasn’t been pining like an moron over something that isn’t worth it. 

“Off,” she demands, tugging once more at his shirt, nails digging into his chest from where she lays her palm against him - flesh warm to her touch, the muscles underneath her hands reacting to her fingers. “It’s only fair.” 

over a month of work had finally come to fruition - a small feat, maybe, especially in comparrison to what the real world had allowed her - but a feat nonetheless. delays from the illness that had swept through the town, from yale’s own unsuspecting hesitation, but it was here. 

a newspaper. fairvale monthly. maybe not as frequent as she would like, but considering how hard it had been to get it together, she was hedging her bets - the first of every month, perhaps, she could release a new edition. a magazine, more than a paper - only a few pages, with artwork and stories from citizens, critical pieces from the few who knew how to write for a journalistic paper, a memorial for those they’d recently lost - it was done. it was hers.

right there, at the top - editor: yale jacobson. a position she would have had to spend another decade fighting for back in chicago. 

they’d made only 60 copies - the population was about double that, maybe more, but not everyone would want one, and families lived together, and she was trying to be conservative while giving them something to look forward to. 

she had set up shop at her favorite stool, a copy in front of her as she glanced over it again, like she’d looked at anything else in days, the moonshine recently slipped into town in a glass in front of her. she was like a little kid in a candy store - she didn’t even glance at the person next to her, an exhausted yawn slipping out of her that twisted into some sort of strangled giggle. “i can’t believe it’s finally here,” she sighed, fingers brushing against the rough paper. “i think this might actually be my finest accomplishment yet - and i once solved a murder case before the police.”

“Well,” Vic hummed, “most of the guys you associate with are assholes, honestly.” Thought they could have her all to themselves, do whatever they wanted and then get mad when she did the same? Vic wasn’t blind. He didn’t expect any sort of commitment from Yale. But he did want this. Whatever this was. He still wasn’t too sure. It didn’t really matter - it didn’t need to be anything, label wise. Vic didn’t traditionally fit into any mold as it was, and he had a feeling Yale was the same. 

“Are you suggesting you’re going to get me shot again?” He laughed, eyes following her hand momentarily as she rested it against his shoulder. He made light of it because it was all in the past now - his shoulder was pretty much good as new, his arm nearly there as well - there were certainly scars not seen that would remain from the whole thing, but that was for him to know, only.

As she steps closer his fingers graze her hips, a light touch, though not hesitant in the slightest. Because he can see that he’s got her - at least for now - and that’s all he needs. 

“Like you said,” he mutters, eyes flickering from hers down to her lips and back again. “It’s the end of the fucking world. So why pretend?” And he was attracted to her, there was no doubt about that. He enjoyed her company, which said a lot. The rest of it? It didn’t really matter. So he closed what distance remained between them, his lips finding hers as he pulled her closer.

It isn’t like she’s surprised that he kissed her, more that she’s surprised he listened to her and still wanted to make a move. It’s unsettling, a piece of her feeling a little bit like she’s floating - how often had she been un front with a guy and he hadn’t run the other way? How many saw the corners she hid from others and still, they moved closer to her? 

Her own hands are far from hesitant as she rests them on his shoulders, careful of the spot where the bullet had pierced his skin, even as her nails dip into his muscles. She’d spent more time than she’d like to admit thinking about this, about how soft Vic’s mouth might have felt against her own, how pliant his lips are, how to not scare him off. 

She’s never been subtle. She’s never been restrained. But she’s not sure how far he means to let this go, and she really had just meant to crash on the couch for a couple days while the Wood sisters figured out their baggage back at the house. 

Still. 

“Not bad, Bakker,” she teases, a lilt in her voice that suggests she’s a little bit breathless, a little bit surprised. A little happier than she would like to admit. “Maybe you will make this worth our time.”  Her voice is softer than normal, and her fingers wrap around the nape of his neck, pulling him down to her size, her body pressing close against his as she grins, unafraid of letting him see this side, of all sides, of her - “show me what you’ve got,” she demands, a little bossy but mostly just curious before she kisses him again, deepening the kiss this time, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach that says that this - whatever this is - might just mean something more to her than another casual fling.

Well, he certainly hadn’t expected that. In all the time he’d known Yale, which in retrospect, wasn’t that long, he’d never known her to be the emotional type. Frankly, he didn’t expect her to be. But perhaps this little something between them had been on her mind just as much as it had been on his.

Truly, what he’d expected, was that she’d had run away and shut it all behind locked doors. But then again, she had, more or less, been the one to initiate it. She had dragged him out onto the dance floor. She had pulled him close. 

“You think?” He says rather bluntly to her acknowledgement that she freaked out. Vic was well versed in the whole ‘leaving when things got complicated’ bit, but he was more of the leave in the middle of the night and don’t look back type. He pulled the second glass towards him, taking a sip as she goes on and not interrupting. He had a feeling she just needed to get it all out. 

“Well,” he finally says when she quiets, eyeing her over the rim of his glass. “I don’t have any expectations here. But I’ve known you for what, four or so months now and it’s been all without sex - so don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you’re fantastic, but forgive me for thinking you’ve got a little more to you than that.”

He swallows another mouthful of the vodka, letting it burn down his throat. They weren’t that different, not really; Vic hadn’t had any real relationships since his teenage years, either. Nothing he’d consider relevant, anyway. Nothing since then that had actually made him feel like he does with Yale. “Sounds like you think I have some idea of how relationships are supposed to work. Sorry to disappoint on that front. And,” he slides around the counter, closing the space between them just a bit - but not enough, hopefully, to scare her away again. “I don’t hurt easy.”

“Guys have said that to me before,” she warned, placing her glass down and allowing him to encroach - however slightly - into her space. They always claimed they never got hurt, that she wouldn’t do anything to break their hears, but then they found her in bed with someone else - monogamy was not a rule she’d ever understood, quite frankly - and they’d have the audacity to accuse her of hurting them like she hadn’t warned them ahead of time. 

“Everyone always claims they don’t get hurt, but I don’t do things like commitment and relationships. And when I did them, it was always with an ulterior motive. Cash, usually - housing, a job promotion - things like that. Actually liking someone - “ 

ugh, it felt so....incomplete. ‘Liking’ someone, like they were in 7th grade and she was passing him a note - do you like me, check yes or no. “It’s the end of the world, Vic. And you’ve already been shot once.” 

She rests her hand on his shoulder - the same one he’d been healing for over a month now, the one he’d used to spare Colette from the bullet that had almost taken them out. Her fingers were hesitant, but her eyes were focused on it for a moment, her mind lost with trying to figure out how she would cope if she truly lost Victor. 

It would suck. It would hurt. And Yale didn’t like being hurt. 

“I’m not saying ‘no’,” she continued, taking a cautious step closer - she’d never been so hesitant about taking what she wanted. With Noel, with the others, she’d made the first move without hesitation, making sure they knew her intentions. With Vic...

“I’m just saying I’m a disaster, and I’m not exactly someone who can change easily. I don’t do commitment. I don’t believe in ‘forever’ with one person. I don’t even know if we’d even like each other the next morning if we did this.” A wry smile, though she was sure that was the least of either of their concerns. “What I do know is that I’m tired of pretending it’s not there. That I don’t have an attachment, an attraction to you. What you want to do with it - that’s on you.” 

“What, your big scoop kind of big flopped?” The whole sickness thing - Vic had done his best to stay out of it, really. It hadn’t gotten to him, it hadn’t gotten to Yale…It had been more or less a non-issue in his book. But he knew Yale had been interested in figuring it out, finding a root cause. Less, probably, for the patients than it was to sate her own curiosity, but that was neither here nor there.

It could’ve made an interesting story if they’d found something in the old lady’s house, the presumed origin, though it had really only been a coincidence that the council men that had visited her had fallen ill in the days following. The way it had spread through the rest of the town? That could’ve probably made an interesting news segment, too. But it’d been tracked down to a contaminated well and, quite frankly, that didn’t make very good reading in Vic’s opinion. But he also wasn’t the type to naturally pick up a newspaper, either. “What’s your big story gunna be?” 

He does wonder why, why of all her options she’d pick here to crash land for a few days. Was it just because he was the only option left? Her fuck boy council man was still on the mend, probably not particularly enjoyable company at the moment. But beyond that, he was sure there were others around town that she’d managed to sink her claws into and drag along, weren’t there? 

But he wasn’t going to ask. Because he didn’t care. Or at least, he was going to act as if he didn’t. He was playing her stupid little games, even if he didn’t know why. Perhaps just because he was stubborn - he wasn’t the one who had anything left unsaid. It was up to her. And for once it seemed like she was acknowledging it - that something had changed between them that night. For better or worse was still up for debate. 

“You know I’m not one to turn down a drink,” he says simply as she takes the bottle from his hand.

“What’s changed?” he added after a moment, leaning against the counter and watching her closely as she fills the glasses. “Nothing’s changed…” But his voice trails off, just a bit, something left unsaid. Unless you wanted it to.

“We both know that’s not true,” she allows, leaning across the counter to face him. If she’s going to dive in - she’s going to dive in. She’s a con artist and a manipulater, but when she puts her mind to it, she refuses to beat around the bush. Blunt, some call her. Aggressive, abrasive - those are familiar words. 

Honest and open about feelings? Very, very rarely. 

In fact, she thinks she’s only had a conversation like this - where she meant the words she had to say, at least - once before in her life. The others were merely lies told to placate men into bed, or into her bank account. But there’s no ulterior motives here. 

It’s a little unnerving. 

“I freaked out,” she said after taking a ( large ) sip of her vodka, finger ringing around the lip of her cup. “I’m not used to someone being earnest with me - not like that. And I’m still freaking out, a little, because you think - “ too highly, too much - too good - “you have an impression of me that I’m not sure I can live up to. I’m not good with high expectations. I’m not good at anything like this. Sex is easy. Uncomplicated. Emotions....” 

She runs her tongue over her bottom lip, hesitating - 

If there was one person that could force Juney to pull herself together, it was Yale. Mostly because she was well aware of the woman’s opinion of her. It wasn’t like she hid it, or her opinion on anything else for that matter. But there was a quiet part of Juney’s mind that was terrified of showing any sort of weakness to her and she was still trying to figure out why that was. 

“I know several ‘someones’ in there,” she attempted to avoid the question. They all knew people in there, the town wasn’t that big. But Juney could already see the eyeroll and feel the sharp sting of whatever admonition Yale would throw at her. Juney didn’t need to wait for that pain as she realized what she was doing to herself. Judging Yale with no reason to be. The woman had come over here to check on her after all. She didn’t need to do that but she did. “A student,” Juney answered by way of a strange peace offering, “She didn’t…umm…She didn’t make it.”

Yale nodded; Juney seemed to actually care about people, with like....real emotions behind it. It would have been unsettling, except she knew most people hadn’t been cursed with a life like hers - it was easy to be trusting, to love when the world wasn’t cruel to you. The fact that there was more than one person behind the clinic doors she cared about was probably as surprising as coming across her crying. 

As in, not at all. 

Yale let out a low whistle - she hadn’t known a kid had died, and she had to admit, even that made her feel a little twinge of sadness. She kept her distances, observed from afar, but Juniper was a teacher. It might not have been the same as losing her own child, but it couldn’t have been easy. 

“C’mon,” she said, standing in front of Juney to wipe away the tears from her cheeks, “I think it’s time you and I have that drink now.” 

Finding Yale on his doorstep with a bottle of liquor in one hand wasn’t particularly unusual. The unusual bit was the bag held firmly in the other hand. Not to mention, here she was at his door again after only a couple weeks, after seemingly avoiding him, after quite literally running away when he’d hinted at even one slight emotion. And pretending none of it had happened. And asking for a ‘sleep over.’

He could pretend. That was easy enough. He spent more than enough of his time pretending. 

“Why’s that?” He inquired, though he wasn’t sure he really cared one way or the other what was going on at the Jacobson/Wood residence. How she had dealt with Merrick and Colette on the regular was more than enough youthful raging hormones for him before adding in whatever it was that sent Yale running. “Actually I don’t think I want to know.” 

With that he took the bottle she was waving from her hand, pushed the door open a bit wider for her with his foot, and stepped back into the house that he’d claimed as his own - save for Javi and his family who milled in and out as well. Easier than being laid up with some strangers off the street - though, Javi and his sisters essentially were that in many ways, save for the months they’d traveled together.

“It’s only sort of my house. But yeah, sure. You’re welcome to stay.” 

“More your house than anyone else’s,” she replied easily. She’d crashed there a couple times in the past - usually when she got too drunk to move, the couch familiar in a strange way, and she dropped her backpack next to it as she moved through the place with ease. She didn’t really feel like diving into the complexities of the blonde’s love lives, so she was glad Vic didn’t really care enough to question too much - what little she had gleamed had given her enough of a headache. 

“I’ll stay out of your way,” she promised, though she did grab two glasses so she could have a shot of the vodka anyways. “I had to delay the release of the paper, so I’ll probably be spending most of my days there - I want to actually publish it, now that people seem to be on the mend.” Water, of all things - boring, barely worth a blurb in the paper, though they had lost a fair number of their town through the damage. “I just need somewhere to crash where no one’s waking up screaming or crying about lost love, or whatever.” 

There’s a brief moment where she wonders if he’ll ask her why him. Why she came to his place, when she does have others. She’s sure he knows about them - his statement at the dance makes her positive he isn’t blind to her dalliance with the council member most detested, at the very least - but much like everything else, she has no plans on talking about them.

Or maybe they should.

Maybe she should finally grow up and talk about what had happened, what he had said - how incredibly wrong it was. 

the house was brim with emotions, hormones and it was like living in a high school drama filled episode of degrassi. the arrival of two of the wood sisters friends from back home mixed with noel’s daughter ( and really, colette, what the fuck was that decision about ) and the mess her sister was going through - 

she needed space. she left a note telling colette she coudl have her room until she came back, the curly haired boy never leaving merrick’s bed even as the blonde stared at the blue eyed kid, and when holly came back, it was sure to feel even more stiffling. 

so she packed a bag, debating the merits of where to go. noel was still in the hospital, and staying with him was...just a terrible idea, in every capacity. she could have gone to jesse’s, knew he would take her in, but he had his own brother and issues to deal with. the only one with less attachments than yale was victor, and things were....almost like normal again. they hadn’t talked about what had happened at the dance, but maybe they’d never have to. 

she grabbed a bottle of vodka hidden in merrick’s closet - not good enough, but a peace offering of sorts, and knocked on his door, hoping he wouldn’t say ‘no’ to letting her crash. 

“i can’t stay at my place anymore,” she started as soon as he appeared, waving the bottle of alcohol in her hand. “it’s starting to feel like an episode of one tree hill in there. can i crash here for a couple days? i brought you alcohol as payment.”