(no subject)

[hebeimmortalized]

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.

Comments

[hebeimmortalized]

"But you probably didn't have to share all your toys with him," Jillie reasons. "So, emotionally speaking, it feels the same, but logistically, it's not." She grins a little and lifts one shoulder. "You love your parents?" she asks then. It's not a small question, like the others. But it distracts her from wanting to push her fingers into his hair.

[arrowofthegod]

"I adore my parents," says Paul, nodding. "My mom is...particular. She can be a little bit difficult to get on with, but, yeah...I love her." He tilts his head. "What about you? You talk about Jack a lot, but not your mom and dad."

[hebeimmortalized]

"It's easier not to, since they're not here," she admits. "Dad's a politician. Mom is a politician's wife." She makes a face, like that should explain her parents in a nutshell. "But they're actually pretty great? Dad's a little . . . protective."

She looks at him, steadily, seriously. Then she turns her face away so he has to see her profile, and she stares, unfocused, at the coffee menu on the wall when she adds, "I really fucked up, one day? I was really sick, and medicine wasn't working, and I sort of . . . Not 'sort of', I did, um." She starts to rub her forearm, the scar along it. Like she can scrub it off.

"I stabbed my mom. Really bad. I don't— I can't remember if I wanted to hurt her? Or it I just wanted everyone to stop yelling. Or if I thought she was something, someone else." Her fingers are fluttering a little when she lifts her hand to cover her mouth.

"When I realized what'd happened, I, um. I was in the basement, alone. I saw what happened, and I couldn't— I couldn't deal. So I tried to make the problem go away."

She turns her wrist towards him, so he can see them both, the scar lacing up either forearm.

"I tried to make . . . me go away." She turns her head the other way, to show him the scar on her throat, and she resolutely doesn't look at Paul's face.

[arrowofthegod]

He's quiet for a long moment while she tells him; it wouldn't be appropriate to interrupt, to overlap. He waits until she's finished and then he lets out a soft breath. He reaches out, tentative, almost hesitant and touches the edge of the scar on her right wrist. He wishes he could explain to her how beautiful she looks to him right then.

"I'm so sorry that that happened to you, Jillie," he says, as gentle as he has it in him to be.

[hebeimmortalized]

No one has ever really said that to her before. She's gone through countless therapy sessions during which they told her it wasn't her fault. She's spoken at length to her mother about it. She understands she wasn't responsible for it.

But not once has anyone ever said, implied or otherwise, that she was as much a victim as her mother. She feels her chin tremble and she looks down. Slowly, so Paul knows it's not because he's touching her, she pulls her arms close to her body and hugs herself.

She still doesn't look at him.

[arrowofthegod]

"My girlfriend died," he says, feeling like he owes her this - his own pain to shadow hers - "And I was driving. I was angry with her. It was raining. I saw a gap and steered for it, but I was never going to hit it. For...the longest time, I wished that I was dead. Not actively enough to..." He swallows. "But I wanted it. More than anything. I wouldn't have fought it."

Even if he had, in the end.

[hebeimmortalized]

"I'm sorry," she whispers. This is them, she realizes. What had he said? Comparing their damage. She swallows and puts her hand back on the table, a silent offering, if he needs or wants it.

[arrowofthegod]

"I'm better than I was," he admits and it feels like something huge to say. He reaches out, tentatively, and he takes her hand.

[hebeimmortalized]

She nods, gently squeezing. "Sometimes that's all we can hope for," she agrees.

[arrowofthegod]

He squeezes her hand back, finds himself unwilling to pull away.

"The life we build in the ruins," he says, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles.

[hebeimmortalized]

She bites her lip and looks down, smiling. "That was . . . really poetic, actually," she says, sounding truly impressed. She doesn't release his hand. His thumb on her knuckles feels good, grounding.

[arrowofthegod]

His cheeks colour with genuine pleasure. He finds that he's comfortable holding her hand.

"Something nobody's ever accused me of."

[hebeimmortalized]

"Maybe you have a calling you never dreamed of," she teases, though her voice is still soft, warm. No tears had fallen, though they'd threatened for a time, but all the same she reaches with her free hand to carefully wipe the waterline of her lower eyelid.

"We should . . . talk about happier things. Like . . . when's your birthday?"

[arrowofthegod]

"August," says Paul, almost surprised when she doesn't take her hand away. "Yours?"

[hebeimmortalized]

"December," she answers. "I'll tell you now, you're not allowed to combine Christmas and birthday for me or Jack, okay? If you end up deciding to buy either of us presents."

[arrowofthegod]

"If," says Paul, grinning and he squeezes her fingers. There's something about her that makes it easy to make him smile, more than it feels like he's smiled in years.

[hebeimmortalized]

"I don't like to assume," she says with a smile of her own. "So, yeah. If."

[arrowofthegod]

"What kind of gifts do you like?" he asks, eyebrow raised. "Just in case I decide, obviously."

[hebeimmortalized]

"I . . . don't know," she admits with a laugh. Despite the track of the conversation, the question still catches her off guard.

[arrowofthegod]

"At least I've got until December to figure it out, then," he says. His thumb is still tracing against her knuckles, back and forth. It's not much of a touch, but it's one he can't seem to help now he's started.

[hebeimmortalized]

She smiles small, shaking her head. "I guess that means we'll have to keep spending time together, so you . . . can figure it out."

[arrowofthegod]

"I guess it does." Paul looks down at their interlocked fingers, his thumb grazing against her skin. "I...I like spending time with you, Jillian. Very much. I'd like to see where this read leads."

[hebeimmortalized]

She stares at their fingers for a long moment before looking up at his face. "Me, too," she whispers.

[arrowofthegod]

Something that's a mix of relief and joy spills through Paul at that and he finds himself smiling. Tentatively, haltingly, he lifts her hand and then leans in to press a kiss against her knuckles.

[hebeimmortalized]

Jillie blushes, but she smiles. No one's ever kissed her hand before, like she's some sort of princess or other noblewoman. She squeezes his fingers gently and watches him through her lashes.