hebeimmortalized | (no subject)

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people: paul schafer

(no subject)

Jillie fiddles with her phone, tempted to text Paul. She's been tempted to text Paul since all but ditching him in that little cafe. She'd panicked. She couldn't help it, at the time. He'd admitted to losing someone and all she could think was what she'd done to herself. The scars on her arms. The scar on her neck.

She's not good for him, not as a friend and not as anything more than that.

So she'd panicked. Distanced herself a little it, and had felt like it was the right move when he'd done it right back.

But she misses talking to him. And looking at him. And listening to his voice.

God, she's pathetic.

She stares down at her phone and types out half a message before deleting it. Then she starts a different message. She deletes that, too. Then she shakes her head and finally types, How'd the job hunt go? Tell me over coffee? and sends it before she can change her mind.

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She tilts her head, watching him. "In this . . . other place, that you went to," she says, slowly, like she's admitting something about herself by talking about it, "what . . . did you do? Why'd you go?"

He shifts his hand, so he's holding hers more definitely as he thinks about it, preparing to answer.

"Originally, we were just there as a novelty - for a celebration," he says. "A magic trick - travellers from another world."

She stares at their hands rather than his face, because she doesn't want to feel like he's lying to her, or pulling some sick joke on her. She's pretty sure he's not, though. He hasn't shown himself to be like that yet.

"You weren't scared?"

"Like I said, I didn't have anything to lose," he says, aware that she's not looking at him. "Kevin wanted to go and I didn't see why not."

"How, um." She licks her lips nervously. "How long were you there?" she asks. She knows she's treading dangerous ground. It'd be so easy for her to hear something and suddenly, nothing will feel real. She tightens her grip on Paul's hand.

"The first time? A few months," he says. "And then we came home again. I was on my way back there with my friend Jenny when I ended up here." He keeps things as simple as he can, doesn't elaborate or try to make things seem fantastical.

"The one I remind you of," she prompts, because he's said it before, she's certain. "You . . . went, or, were gonna go, more than once? I guess you liked it there, huh?"

"I did," he says, nodding his head, taking another bite of the cake and chewing thoughtfully. "I...figured out a lot while I was there. Figured out how to be myself again."

"That's good," she says sincerely. "That's how the hospital was, for me. People take it for granted, don't they? Being themselves. Being aware, like that."

"Too many of them do," he nods, agreeing. "It's too easy to lose your way back."

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