Chapter Text
Jinx had bad luck.
It was a defining characteristic. Misfortune, born and bred. On her good days, she leaned into it. Waved it around, her very own battle standard, a flag of black, spattered in bright paint. Can’t be a fuck up if you do it on purpose, right?
But, on her bad days… Well, they weren’t too different. Just, she didn’t know she was fucking shit up until the final moment, the last drop of water before the dam shatters.
Over the years though, she’d gotten better at expecting it. Got a bit dulled to even the worst ways she could ruin her life. She had lost nearly everyone she could care about, never really picking up any new ones, so there was no one left for her to take down with her. So, typically, when she was dealing with the windfall of her own shitty luck, she didn’t have anything it could steal from her. She was penniless.
At least, she used to be.
Nowadays, she found herself in an outright horrible position: hopeful. Stumbled her way into a connection with a young professor who recently established his own program at Zaun University. For whatever reason, he saw enough in her to help get her admitted. And, despite her better judgement, despite the sheer weight of her self doubt, the voices whispering to her that she’d just fuck it all up in the end, don’t waste his or anyone else’s time, she accepted.
She spent every second until her first day waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the pin of the grenade to slip out, for her to ruin it, blow it all up, just like she tended to do. But, it didn’t happen.
Which just set her more on edge, left her feeling skinless, flayed, a puff of air in her direction would hurt, would harm. She spent all of orientation feeling like this, distracted by the potential of failure. But as the day went on, with no hiccups, no issues, no mistakes on her part, she let herself sink into that dangerous feeling, that hope.
So when, at the end of the day, that professor reached out to her to stop by his lab, get acquainted with the work he wanted from her, she didn’t have any snark or doubt holding herself back, didn’t think about luck or fortune, or have any flags to wave. Just, for the first time in a long time, let herself be.
It ended up being a bit of a mistake. Not that anything went wrong, more like the opposite. The professor got her started on an equation he was also struggling with, just as an introduction, no need to solve then and there, but it turned into hours of back and forth, desks covered in open books, whiteboards full of ink, math upon math, and some of her doodles in the corners. It helped her think, that’s why she drew them, and the professor didn’t seem to care, too engrossed in the rest of it.
It had been fun, fun enough it caught her off guard. She hadn’t gotten that much enjoyment out of shooting the mathematical and engineering shit since Ek-
Nope. Stop. Don’t go there.
She couldn’t help it, though. Ekko kept sneaking into her mind today. At first, she didn’t really know why. She’d thought about him before, always kept painful memories in a cracked pandora’s box just a reach away. She punished herself with it, jabbing and squeezing, wringing out ache and misery whenever she felt herself slipping into something too comfortable, too close to happy.
Maybe that was why, she thought at first, why she was thinking about him. Just too close to happy today. But then she started paying attention. Started seeing him in passing figures. Whenever some guy held open a door, helped someone pick up a dropped book or bag, answered a question, raised his hand, it just reminded her too much of him, back when they were younger. Little hero boy, precocious and eager, always ready to help, to save, to be the answer rather than the problem.
The opposite of her. Always the fucking problem.
The similarities between Ekko and those guys would end there though. End just at the edge of helpful and eager. None of them had that same feel to them, that same bite, that same look in their eyes.
The look that haunted her.
She didn’t want to think about him. Even if working through that equation reminded her so much about him, late nights solving homework problems, tinkering on gadgets, just that back and forth. Ekko had always matched her in his own way, always giving as good as he got, always following her lead.
Until one day, he couldn’t anymore. She pushed too hard, too far, and instead of holding steady, he pulled the rug out from between them, and ran.
She’d call him a coward, but she would run from herself too. Whatever it took. Slice herself open, slip out from her skin, and just keep running.
The best she could do was get a degree, apparently. If there was someone who could turn self betterment into self destruction, it was her. She’d find a way.
In fact, that was what she was dealing with right now. Got distracted working through that equation for so long that she missed the last bus for today.
Always fucking up in the end.
She knew that, and still, she forgot. Let herself get lost a bit too long. And now, how the fuck was she supposed to get back home?
Didn’t have the funds for an uber, didn’t have the friends for a ride. She considered walking but it would take a couple of hours through the sprawl of Zaun. She wasn’t worried about the potential ‘dangers’ of a late night stroll, had stashed her bag back in the professor’s office. And, she had grown up on those same streets, hell, had been that ‘danger’ before.
But, it was better not to risk it. And god, she really didn’t want to end her day basically walking a marathon.
So it was time to rely on ol’ reliable. Find some sucker to spend the night with. She’d done it before, whenever she didn’t want to find a way home.
Whenever you want to pretend you aren’t alone.
Sure, yeah, whatever. That too, she guessed. But, she never went back to anyone, never double dipped, always found someone new. She never stayed when she was asked.
And barely anyone asks, ‘cause who would?
That wasn’t…That wasn’t the point. Didn’t matter if anyone asked or not, she didn’t want to, okay? It was just a place to sleep. The sex was only a bonus, if it was good enough. And if it wasn’t? Well, that didn’t matter, either. Bad sex ranked very low on her list of shitty experiences.
So, Mission Find a Sucker was a go, and she started walking around the area, looking for a club or a bar. She strolled around a bit, passing by obvious college spots and shitty sports bars. Look, she could afford to be a little picky. At least to start. Night was still young and all that.
She found herself walking down a street with not a lot of energy to it, pretty unsuspecting buildings. She was just about to round the corner, heading onto the next street, when a drunk couple stumbled out of a large iron door, creaking and shutting with a heavy thud behind them.
They almost knocked into her, obviously too engrossed in each other to care how drunk and stupid they looked. Heavy petting and googly eyes. Jinx sneered at them as they left, disgusted, watching them lean into each other for balance as they stumbled about.
The stench of alcohol hit her nose and had her flicking her head towards the iron door. It was a flat, ugly red thing, with peeling paint. There was no signage, no lights, no nothing describing whatever this place was. But it had to be at least a bar, that smell of alcohol, intoxicated patrons, and a bouncer standing right by the door.
And, honestly, it intrigued her. The building itself was so unsuspecting, the door so ugly. What kind of club doesn’t advertise itself? Jinx, curious as ever, just had to know.
She walked up to the door, giving the bouncer a cheeky grin and a two finger salute, just going to head on in, but the bouncer held out his arm, blocking her path.
She clicked her tongue, glaring down at that arm that dared to stop her, then shifting her eyes up towards the bouncer.
“ID.” The bouncer said, gruff.
Jinx crossed her arms, shifting back so she was leaning all on her right leg, away from the bouncer, “Do I look like some kid to you?”
“Just need to confirm, the law and all,” the bouncer mirrored her, crossing his arms over his large chest.
Jinx didn’t cower to threats though, especially the ‘machismo’ kind, “Heh, no good club in Zaun cares about the law.”
“This is a professional establishment, kid .”
Jinx sweeped her arm out towards the street, incredulous, “It’s a concrete block on some shitty, no name street, far away from the heart of the city. Doesn’t sound like a worthwhile establishment to me.”
The bouncer didn’t rise to her challenge though, just shrugged his shoulders, a smug smile on his face.
Oh, he knew exactly how to get her, huh? Maybe convinced multiple patrons this way. Schrodinger’s club. Does it exist or not? Is it worth it or not? And fuck, did that intrigue her, enough to suck it up and give up the fight.
She huffed, pulling out her ID and shoving it into the bouncer’s hands. He scanned it, definitely taking his time just to piss her off more, but then handed it back and waved her through.
She briefly considered burning down the whole building just to show him, just to make him regret letting her in. But all that thinking went away as she walked inside and saw what made the bouncer so smug.
The club was full of glass and colors, speckled light spattering about, flashing, strobing, casting. The music was loud and harsh, thrumming, speeding up the blood in her veins. Sight and sound so viscerally assaulted that she could barely think.
It was perfect. Surprisingly so very Zaun here on the outskirts.
She wished this was the plan from the beginning, a whole night out, dancing, drinking, getting lost in the beat, the bass. She wished she didn’t have a mission to complete, wished it was some other night, different circumstances. She’d have to come back sometime.
She started rounding the club, a lion on the prowl, stalking her next kill, the next thing to whet her appetite. She was being particularly picky for whatever reason. She couldn’t nail down why, just this buzzing gnat zipping around her mind, flittering behind her eyes. Everyone she saw just didn’t have it , none of them the right flavor, the right taste.
Beggars can’t be choosers. The pickings of who will actually want you are slim. Get over yourself.
Was she not allowed at least some sort of standard? At least for a few minutes, before getting desperate?
You think you’re worth that? Options? Time? All you have is desperation.
…Fine. She’ll fuck the next guy she sees that wants to fuck her, okay? The chances of any of them being halfway decent is a shot in the dark anyways, so she might as well just pull the trigger.
She turned a corner, easing towards the outer row of tables, and that’s where she spotted him. Standing away from the crowd, probably the brooding type. She’s more inclined to that flavor of man tonight, someone not too hyper, or annoying. She’ll have enough energy for the both of them.
And he was fine . Muscular but not crazy big, athletic and shapely, filling out his shirt and his pants, had a nice fucking ass, something she wanted to sink her teeth into. His hands were massive too, wrapped around his drink glass.
Dark matte skin that looked so soft, stretched over coiled muscles, she wanted to see him flex, wanted to see that skin tighten as he moved. He had sharp cheekbones, she wanted to cut herself on them, bleed all over him, that red rushing down to the thick pout of his lips. She’d bite into them, kiss them, her blood the only thing between them.
She felt primal just looking him up and down, the thin slip of ankle down by his feet up to the mass of white locs tied up on his head. He was hot, really hot. She congratulated herself, very good choice, Jinx. Very nice. Just needed to walk up and-
Fuck.
She had forgotten the cardinal rule of her life.
She had bad luck. Was the bad luck. Always another shoe to drop, another grenade she forgot she pulled the pin of, waiting to blow everything up.
She stopped, damn near froze in place, the music couldn’t even move the blood through her veins, it was like it all turned to lead. She had just been circling around, trying to get a full look of him, still a distance away, but even from that far, she’d know Ekko’s eyes anywhere.
Had seen nearly every expression anyone had ever felt before in those eyes. Might as well had had them tattooed on her skin. She spent nightmares playing hide and seek with that gaze, always the one hiding from them. Waking up from those nights would be even worse, sinking into the woken world where she had been hiding for no reason. He was never out there seeking her.
No. He was right here, finishing up a drink in some club, looking hot as hell, with that fucking haunting gaze.
Why would he come looking for you? Look at him. His life has been better without you.
And god, did that piss her off. She wanted to smack that drink out of his hand, tear his shirt to shreds, light his hair on fire. Do something, anything, brass and wild.
Ruin him. Ruin whatever pretty life he had built for himself in that pretty body of his.
It had her approaching him, pulling herself forward, step by step. Anger, jealousy, as coal shovelled into her fire. She knocked into him, spilling his drink.
But, when he looked at her, she forgot about it. Forgot about nearly everything. There wasn’t even a voice in her head egging her on, calling her worthless, pathetic. He was looking at her, for the first time in nearly a decade.
And she didn’t know how she felt about that.
It all rushed back mixed, shaken, stirred. Fuck, she needed a drink. Needed something to dull her; she felt too sharp, too jagged. She was half expecting his eyes to slice open with how they dragged over her, caught on her edges.
She wanted him to stop. She wanted him to keep going. Wanted him to look away, never look away. Keep his eyes on her, fucking shut them already.
She really wanted a drink.
Maybe she could play the same role she had been preparing to play, just a girl trying to seduce a guy. And maybe he’d play back, just like he used to all those years ago, just following her lead in whatever game she wanted to play. And this time, she wanted him to play the guy trying to pick up a girl. They could stay in those lanes, passing ships and all that. One night. She just needed a place to stay for one night. Even if it was his. Even if it was him.
So, she tilted her head, leaned in, and said to him, “Buy me a drink.”
She was kind of surprised by how easily he listened. It tickled her a bit, a grin trying to tug at her lips as she watched him, so obediently, return with a drink. He went back to the spot next to her, a healthy distance between them, and placed down the drink.
She wasted no time, downing the cocktail, getting it out of the way. There was no reason to prolong this interaction in her eyes. Either he played his part or he didn’t. It didn’t matter what she wanted.
It matters that he doesn’t want you, though.
She slammed the glass down on the table, trying to knock the thoughts out of her. She felt tense, on the verge of regret, and all she had was one drink.
And Ekko was doing fuck all. She didn’t turn to him, just flicked her eyes over, trying to read him. God, he was just staring at her, with such an odd expression, she couldn’t read it, couldn’t read him. That was bothering her, digging at her, tearing at her nails. She used to be able to read him so well, so easily.
“What the fuck’s up with you?” She asked, accused more like. Trying to knock him back into someone recognizable. But he already was, with those eyes that she’d never forget. Maybe it was just her, someone too far gone. Someone who shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t stand near him. Didn’t deserve it.
And then he spoke, his voice thick, dark, “Jinx.”
What the fuck was she supposed to with that? The first word he says to her in years is her name, and he says it like that? All heavy yet also light, airy, a thousand pounds of feathers suffocating her.
She turned back to her empty drink, wishing she had another, twisting it into the table, harder, harsher. His voice, her name, repeating in her ears, echoing about, coming back softer and softer each time, until it stopped returning.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to find it, chase it, hear it yet again. But what good would that do her? What good was any of this? It felt like torture, that’s what it was. Torture. Being near him, hearing him, his fucking eyes.
He fucking just kept looking at her. She hated it. It wriggled under her skin. It was getting to the point that she wanted him to just yell at her, call her horrible things.
She turned her head away from him, the furthest she could push herself towards leaving, running. It was the lead in her veins keeping her there, she swore. Nothing else, right?
What did she even think was going to happen? What did she even want?
She wanted him to grab her shoulders, grip tight, and force her to look at him.
“I live nearby,” he said, like some practiced pickup line, like he was reading from the script.
She wasn’t expecting it. She whipped her head back around to him, eyes wide. Her eyes shifted over his face, trying to grasp an edge, anything she could peel back, reveal what he was thinking. For his part, he looked just as surprised, mouth slightly parted, brow pinched. As though he also couldn’t believe what he just said.
She felt laughter start to bubble up in her chest, a lightness lifting her. Couldn’t believe it, just how funny it all was. She shook her head, unable to hold back her soft chuckles. Flicking her eyes just over his shoulder, out towards that door, she thought about it, about what to do next.
Nothing had blown up yet, and she kind of wanted to see when she was going to fuck it up. When the bad luck would finally kick in.
So, she leaned it, and said, “Fine. Take me home.”
-
Walking was not exactly what she was expecting. She was kind of hoping to see if he had a nice car to match what life she was building up for him in her head. Something sleek, and fast, and possibly dark green. Something that fit him, or at least, what she remembered of him.
As kids, they once cobbled together a pair of bikes from bits and bobs they found in the scrap yards. They had nicked some colorful duct tape from a local store and had wrapped their new bikes, decorating them. She had chosen bright neon pink and blue and covered the bike haphazardly, a mess of color. He was more thoughtful with it, spinning layers of dark green and neon, giving a pop of color spiraled around.
Those bikes didn’t last long, barely surviving the ride back to the Last Drop, crumbling underneath them. They had hit the ground hard, scrapes and bruises, and she had felt like crying. Not much from the pain, but from the loss of their new trinkets, the end of their fun.
But Ekko had been so worried about her, his face so openly worried, eyes wide, that immediately it had made her smile instead. And then laugh. Laughing until they were both laughing.
Indulging in those kinds of memories tended to send her spiraling. Just all that regret, all that loss, what once was, it just loop and swirled around her ‘til she found herself sunken, having to crawl out of whatever hole her mind had dragged her into.
But right now, it didn’t feel that dangerous. Maybe it’s ‘cause he was right here. Hard to feel like you lost something, someone, when they’re next to you.
Sure, she was missing out on learning whatever car he drove, but maybe this was better. Able to watch how he walked, how he held himself. Able to control the distance between them. Run, if she needed to.
If he needed to.
He didn’t look like he wanted to run. Jinx was still trying to get a good read on him, but, for the most part, he seemed just as interested as she was in seeing where this was going to go. At least, with how he kept glancing at her.
That was the only shifty thing about him, his eyes flicking over to her every couple of steps. Like he was checking to see if she was still there, real. The rest of him was rather poised, hands in pockets, shoulders back, steady strides.
She was walking pretty confidently too, lightly kicking out her legs with each step, a bit of a sway back and forth, her braids bouncing left and right, hands clasped loosely behind her back. It felt like a lie though, a front, her soldiers against his.
Which would fall first? Who would cry surrender?
But with each block they passed, she found herself getting more and more frustrated. Yeah, nevermind, a car would be better. Would get this over with much faster.
‘Cause all he did was keep glancing over at her, and she really didn’t know what to say, what to ask.
Do you have a car? Do you work around here? Do you think about me? How’s your day? How’s your life? How’s it been without me? Are you happy? Are you healthy? Are you regretting this?
Where have you been? Why aren’t you saying anything? Why, why, why, why, wh-
You know why, jinx .
Fuck, she was spiraling, and his presence wasn’t helping this time. His constant fucking glances. Say something, anything, prick. Even if it’s ‘fuck off’.
But no, just kept pace, glancing over, with those goddamn eyes.
She couldn’t take much more of it. Thought about telling him to walk ahead, face forward, don’t turn around. A kind of trust exercise, just believe that she was following. But she was torn between the possibilities; would he follow her command, or would he break it, sparing a look back? She didn’t know which would be worse, which she wanted. She didn’t even know if she would stay and follow him, or take the opportunity to disappear.
She did know she couldn’t handle this silence anymore.
“Ya live nearby?” She asked, not sparing a look at him, aiming for casual. She hoped her voice sounded way more even than she felt.
“Uh,” he took a second to respond, as though her words brought him back to the present. As though he realized that they really were just walking in silence, and he should’ve been speaking, “Yeah, it’s not too far from the club. Sorry, should’ve mentioned that before we just started walking, huh?”
Sorry? For that? She thought about the last time she’d seen Ekko, how dangerous he looked, his hands splattered in blood, tight on her wrists. She thought about how she had put him there.
This Ekko felt fangless in comparison. Sorry? Should he even know the word? Why was it bothering her so much?
You want him to say sorry for something else, but you also know it was all your fault. You’re a walking contradiction, a breathing, living conflict.
Yeah, felt about right. Felt like she was balancing on the edge of a knife, feet bloody, indecision ready to slice her in two. Just fall over already. Fall.
But no, she walked on top of knives like she was a tightrope walker, a circus performer. Dancing on top, putting on a show.
She whistled, spinning around mid-step, looking up at all the buildings, “Real swanky neighborhood ya got here.”
She walked backwards, grinning over at him, hoping he’d get the joke. It was technically a joke on him, but still a joke. However, instead of joining in, his brow furrowed. She saw a flicker of tightness in his jaw, a slight shift of his lips, pursing.
There he is.
He buried it, and here you come to unearth it.
“It’s fine, I guess,” he shrugged, but that couldn’t nudge off his expression, and for the first time that night, he looked away from her for longer than ten seconds.
Jinx mulled her jaw, near grinding her teeth, as she spun back around, a lot less pep in her step. She had tried to goad him into something, so she shouldn’t be that surprised that he did react. In fact, this was the most likely reaction beyond just yelling at her.
So why was she letting herself hope for a smile?
She stomped on, pissed again, at herself, at him, for getting testy with her. She wasn’t really paying attention to anything anymore, whether he had finally glanced at her again or how nice the buildings looked compared to where she lived. She was so distracted by trying to not be distracted that she didn’t notice he stopped, until she heard him call after her.
“Jinx.”
She froze. It sounded different out here, in the open air. In the club she really couldn’t hear him that well, just exactly how his tongue wrapped around her name.
Slowly, she spun around to face him. He was a couple yards back, looking as stricken as she felt. Something spun tighter inside her at the sight of him, affected like that.
He raised a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing, as though he could rub off the feeling, and said, “This is me.”
He nodded his head over towards an apartment entrance. Her eyes followed the movement then scaled up the building. It was nice, like the rest of them. A newer construction, instead of the cobbled together dilapidated shit she was living in. Could’ve been nicer, really. In her mind, seeing him like he was today, she half expected a piltie style condo, bordered in gold, all shiny and shimmering. But it was significantly more modest than that. Still nice, though.
He had his hand on the door, looking at her like that again. All hesitant, all watching. Waiting. Uncertain.
She didn’t like that. She wanted to see him affected again.
She strolled up to him, foot placed in front of foot, a slight sway to her. She stopped just before him, closer than they’d been all night, save for the bump into his arm that started this all. She watched his eyes, the black of them swelling with each step she took. All the better to see her with. She knew him, knew how well he could play Big, Bad Wolf .
“Ya gonna invite a girl up, or…” She trailed the word out, not even wanting to give him another possibility, some sort of out. She was back in it, her voice low, raspy, hinting.
She watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, a hint of tongue peeking out as he quickly licked just the inner jut of his lips.
Oh, she could have fun with him still. She was swinging all over the place, whatever it was she wanted, at the end she hoped would be fun.
And, again, he decided to play the part.
His voice, rough, gravel, “You wanna come up?”
-
The second Ekko opened the door to his place, Jinx realized she may have been more bark than bite. She felt small, uneasy, like a tourist, a stranger in a strange land, with customs and language foreign to her.
You shouldn’t be here.
The place felt so very him . Organized and neat, but not in an empty way. A weathered leather couch, a groomed, shaggy green carpet. That was it, the place was covered in green. Not just green cabinets or curtains, but living plants, lining the window sill, hanging from the ceiling. Not really anything that flowered, nothing that bloomed, only things that grew, that sprouted, that filled the room with brilliant green.
She never really took him for a gardener, but seeing it now, it slotted in so perfectly. Of course, Ekko would have plants, would fill his place with things that grew. She thought about how patient he was with her when they were kids, when she was upset, trying to force a gadget to work. And him, just gently easing it out of her hands to get her to stop, to take her time and breathe.
She could imagine him taking small trimmers to his plants, cutting off the dead and decaying bits so that they could grow even more brilliant. She wanted him to do that to her.
And, god, did that thought ache. It simmered inside of her, cooking her from the inside out.
Would he be up for it? Would he say yes?
Even if he would, you don’t deserve it.
She had been tracing her fingers along the space, from counter, to wall, to couch, to window sill, to potted plants. She was a tactile learner, and she desperately wanted to memorize everything. When she ran out of room, ending with her finger lightly atop the door handle to what she imagined was his bedroom, she finally looked at Ekko.
He was leaning against the front door, arms loosely crossed in front of his chest. He was watching her like she was some foster cat he just brought home, giving her space to explore, looking for any signs that this wasn’t a good fit.
She held eye contact with him, unblinking, as she twisted the door knob. He didn’t move, just stayed that distance away, watching her, letting her.
She leaned backwards against the door, slipping into the room, keeping her eyes on Ekko for as long as she could, until she fully entered this new space. She drifted her eyes away from him, opening them out towards his bedroom.
It wasn’t that much different from the rest of his place: a queen sized bed on what looked to be a hand built wooden frame; a painting hung just above the headboard, a cityscape at night, made of dappled paint strokes; a hefty desk, another seemingly hand built piece of furniture. There were some plants about, mainly by the windows, with curtains drawn, but not as many as in his living room. She realized that his place was nice, but rather small compared to what she thought. Enough for one person. Maybe too tight for two, unless they were really close.
That became all the more real when he followed her into the room, his presence suffocating behind her. In fact, the whole space was suffocating. All the air around her was his air, and she felt like a thief breathing it in, the weight of guilt crushing her.
But she couldn’t leave; he was blocking the exit, preventing her escape.
So, what was one more crime? What more could she take from him?
She waved a hand over to the bed, raising an eyebrow, and asked, “Is this the bed?”
He slightly tilted his head at her, a twist of confusion on his face, before it slipped off, a small smile replacing it. He huffed out a laugh of a breath, “Sure looks like it.”
If she was going to survive this, he needed to not smile at her. Honestly, he needed to not do a lot of things, like look at her, like speak. She wished she could command him to stop. She wished she had that right.
Instead, to shut him up, to stop seeing that dumb, perfect little smile, she laid down on the bed with her back to him.
The sheets smelled laundry fresh, and she nearly giggled ‘cause of it. Of course, he would have clean sheets. He was a proper adult now, with an adult job, an adult apartment in a good neighborhood, and an adult body. She felt so young in comparison, like she was just a couple of steps into maturity, as dumb and stupid about the grown up world like those baby faced freshmen she saw today.
She considered telling him that she was in college now, just completed her first day of orientation. Eager to receive his praise, wow him with the fact that her life was now half on track, balanced on the rails.
But then came the fear, that he’d laugh at her, shame her, for getting it together so late. If one could even call her current life ‘together’, with her shitty apartment, her no job, and her only prospect being the charity case of some professor. Which she was bound to fuck up sometime soon.
‘Cause Jinx was bad luck, who somehow coerced her way into the bed of the boy she lost, the boy she nearly took down with her. Now a man, who seemed to have significantly better luck.
A man who was sliding onto the bed across from her. He was curled towards her, but a safe distance between them, a good couple of feet. His hands resting on the bed in front of his chest, not reaching, not pulling away, open palms. With his shining brown eyes, soft and sweet, looking at her, a skittish cat, patiently. Like he could soothe her with just a look. Like he was the sun and she was one of his seedlings, trying to find the light.
She was sick to her stomach with want, disgusted by her own desire, so terribly cold. How long has it been since she’s truly allowed herself to feel the sun’s rays. She was risking sunburn, risking skin cancer, just staying here, allowing him to look at her.
But she didn’t want to leave. Had nowhere else to go, nowhere else she wanted to go.
If only she could get him to stop looking at her.
Her body came up with the dumbest but quickest solve for that problem. It was like her limbs were puppets, and his body held all the strings, tugging her towards him. He didn’t even move, she did all the work.
She dove into him, slipping between his limbs, threading her legs with his. She dug her hands underneath his shirt, climbing up the ridges of his back. She felt him gasp, the sudden shift of his chest. Her fingers must be cold compared to the warmth of him, and he was really warm, like he was sun baked.
Thoughts were wriggling about her mind, clawing behind her eyes, those same old thoughts that told her she was worthless, undeserving, pathetic.
You really just take and take, dontcha? In what world would he want you back?
But before she could rip herself away, cut those puppet strings, she felt his arms strengthen around her, pulling her deeper into his chest.
For the first time in a long, long while, she felt her mind empty, like the tv turned off instead of just playing static. She sunk into him, impossibly closer, and breathed.
The first scent that hit her was liquor, something like rum, and it reminded her that he was still in that shirt, stained by the drink she caused him to spill. She thought about apologizing, thought about laughing, and whatever came out felt halfway choked, halfway chuckled.
But all he did was wrap even closer, even tighter.
Underneath that sharp smell of liquor, he smelled like leather and dried fruits, and that heavy odor of peat and cypress licking at the edges of her nose. Underneath it all, that musk that must just be him, his skin, his sweat. She wanted to bottle it all up, take it home with her.
But tonight, she didn’t have to go anywhere, as long as his arms were around her, she felt wanted, safe.
She felt herself drifting, soothed by the smell of him, the feel of his strong arms around her, the tautness of his skin under her fingers. Soothed enough that despite how she nearly always struggled to fall asleep, her eyelids were heavy, her breathing evening.
She was right on that edge of consciousness, the abyss of sleep before her, when his voice interrupted her. She felt it more than heard it, a vibration from his chest into her forehead.
“Jinx?” He asked.
The way he said her name might be worse than the way he looked at her. Might be more addictive, more ruining.
So, to stop him, to push them over the edge, tumble into slumber, she gave him a command.
“Sleep.”