So, he's leaving.
She gets it. It's just one of those things that will automatically happen. He's a nerd. If he doesn't go to an awesome college to be taught by awesome professors, experience its awesome education and revel in all its awesomeness, she's pretty sure an action figure somewhere dies.
The thing is... her mother is crying over his baby pictures, her dad is punching in as many man hours that he could possibly squeeze in, and Max keeps trying to auction off his own things to collect enough money to buy his big brother's room. Her? She's unaffected.
There's something about the morning sun. It burns her eyes. It's a reminder that she has to get up, get dressed and be awake. She finds it all relative and an effort. But hey, practice makes perfect, right?
She hears her name (But then again her dream involves a sea of circus people cheering her on as she levitates an elephant). But it's different. Softer, firmer, and familiar. She groans as she buries her head further into the pillow. It's Saturday. No one wakes up on a Saturday.
An arm circles her waist to lightly shake her awake, and she can't help but smile. Her eyes are still closed as she leans back, stopping when she feels the familiar rise and fall of his chest against her back.
"You should wake up." His voice is a low grumble against her neck, his nose lightly nuzzling her as his hand moves in slow circles along her waist.
She moans in protest as she leans further into him, one arm moving up, allowing her fingers to tangle in his hair as his lips seem to come alive against her. "It's too early."
He chuckles, the noise sending goosebumps across her skin. His hands follow her curves, moving lower, making her writhe against him. "It's always too early."
The corners of her lips automatically lift into a smirk as she turns in his arms to give him a slow, drawn out kiss. "Maybe you shouldn't keep waking me up like this." Her tone is teasing as her fingers lightly move along his shoulders and bare back.
"Where's the fun in not doing that?" He grins, leaning over as he kisses her again, his hands already slipping under her nightgown, his actions moving the silk of the material up.
It didn't take long before she lost the only piece of clothing she had on, and was naked against him. Their kisses were slow, their movements leisurely. Feeling his hands on her as his lips whispers against her skin made her feel warm, wanted, and above all, loved.
This was how it was supposed to be. She and him amongst soft sheets. Nothing to interrupt them. Nothing to change them.
Just her and Justin.
Her eyes open voluntarily. A force of habit that sprouted within the past few days. When did she become so predictable in a not so evil sense? Squinting at the bright light (seriously, Saturdays should be alldark all the time) she tries to turn, but stops, her eyes falling on the arm draped across her. She smiles. Okay, so might sort of like the fact that even though he's all 'I don't care if you stay the night', he secretly does. Moving slowly, she takes a hold of his arm and tries to pry herself free. But it tightens around her, forcing her to elicit a giggle as she's crushed towards him. "Justin." She tries to pull herself away but his fingers had already started their onslaught, making her giggle uncontrollably as he tickles her. "Okay. Uncle. Uncle."
Smirking, he raises up on his side to look down at her, amused. "Told you. I will always wake up earlier."
Her glare says it all. "We'll see. I won last night's game which means today's snack is.."
He groans as he falls back. "If you say any type of junk food, I swear the next time I win, I'm going to make you eat baby carrots."
"Psh! Good luck winning." She shoves his shoulder, and he shoves back, before his grin falls. "You better get going."
"Yeah. I know." But she stays for a few seconds longer, and he still keeps looking at her. She thinks that maybe he'll do something. But he doesn't. He just stays. Sighing, she throws the covers off her, hoping that he wouldn't notice the goosebumps across her bare legs (she blames the indoor weather). She pretends not to see his eyes lingering on her expanse of skin, or her shoulder as she pulls up the strap of her dressing gown. "Yeah. So. Pictionary tonight?"
He nods. His glance falling on anything but her.
She nods too. It's a hell of a conversation filler. "Yeah. Well. Bye." So she acts a bit awkward. So does he. Who keeps glancing at random things like that? She stops as her fingers wraps around the doorknob, her body turning towards him. "Same time tonight?"
He looks at her for a moment, and she feels the need to cover herself. "Yeah. Same time." She's about to leave again when he says her name. "Thanks." He shrugs and tries to look casual. "I really enjoy our game nights."
"Sure." She tries to act casual too. "Lets just try not to get too late this time. I can't keep sleeping in your bed." That was a joke. Then why wasn't she laughing?
He laughs (nervously). "Yeah. See you at breakfast."
She pauses for a while, her eyes meeting his. Was she delusional? Was this unspoken thing between them in her mind? "Yeah. See you downstairs..." She wishes she could say the word 'brother'. But her throat doesn't let her. She realizes that she's staring at him after a good minute. Clearing her throat, she waves quickly (they still hate each other like family, okay?) and leaves.
It's a not like she doesn't see him burying his head in his hands as the door closes behind her.
She blames that stupid dream. The one where she and him... and they are... and it feels so... but it shouldn't. Every night. It happens every night. She dreams about waking up to a different Justin. A Justin that touches her, and kisses her, and she knows how wrong it is. She also knows that it will never happen. Never happen. NeverNeverNever.
She goes to his bedroom every night with a board game in her hand. They play, laugh, joke. She bugs him thirty percent less, he spews out less facts, they win and lose bets. And she sleeps over. And he lets her. And even though they fall asleep apart, every night, they get closer.
She pretends it's nothing. He doesn't even acknowledge that he hugs her. It's normal. Sibling affection. That's normal.
Even when his arm tightens around her, and she feels his lips lightly at the base of her throat, she smiles into her pillow. They might not talk about it, or even recognize it, but she's kind of okay with it. This is enough for her.
At least for now.