All her life, Ophelia had fought to take up as little room as possible—- it was in her nature, or so she’d always thought, at least. She was shy, introverted, thoughtful, and she didn’t like to burden other people because she didn’t truly feel like she was worth the trouble. Maybe if things had gone differently in her life, she would’ve been less apologetic about her existence, but lingering memories of a dad she thought loved her always made her question herself. Twenty-three years had passed since he left, and not a single word or a proper explanation had been left in his wake; he just didn’t want to be a dad anymore, at least not her dad, and that was it. From then on, every person she loved who left acted as a reminder that she, Ophelia, was easy to leave, and that maybe, just maybe, that was her lot in life. She had all but accepted it after Ian left, but then Jackson came in and intercepted that train of thought, and he made her believe differently—- now, all she could do was cling to the flicker of hope in her chest, ignited by the words on Jay’s lips. He believed what he said so fiercely that it took energy and strength from her side to not let go and jump in with both feet, but history had taught her everything, and though her trust in Jay knew no bounds, the faith in herself did.
But a part of her ached and longed for someone to tell her what he did; to believe so genuinely, so honestly and stubbornly that she wasn’t the villain she made herself out to be in her head. Even though her tears and the quivering of her lip made it seem less so, Ophelia was beyond grateful for Jay in those moments. He might not have known Jackson the way she did, or their relationship and how truly good it had been, but he stood by her side now, vehemently, relentlessly fighting off her worst enemy for her; herself. She didn’t deserve the effort, but she loved him more the less he gave up on her— hard and fast and truly. In his sheltering arms, under prismatic hues in the dim light of a flickering midnight lamppost, childlike hope manifested in her chest all because of him, and she knew deep down she’d never be able to thank him properly, but that she would allow herself to be selfish enough to never let him go. If she could, she would fight of any harm that might come to him, just like he had for her so selflessly.
“Okay,” she whispered, giving in.
All her life, she’d been used to being the one who took care of other people— her friends when they needed her the most, her brother when his heart was broken, her mom when she got sick and her little brother when she died. This was who she was, and if she’d had an ounce of strength left in her, she might’ve fought Jay’s offer, but she couldn’t. She needed someone right now, who was willing to take care of her, if just for a little bit.
Gratitude, he believed, turns what we have into enough and he cherished the emotion whether a recipient of or a vessel for it. To be thanked for being a decent human being wasn’t what Jay aimed for. If he’d ridden himself of any burden, it was of one where he felt like he needed to prove himself as different from his father. He already knew, all along, that he was nothing alike the people who’ve given birth to and raised him, and it was genuinely rewarding on its own to brighten up another person’s day. It’s not like he was a bearer of joy for the entire Universe, a Saint of some sort; only the chosen few, Ophelia among them, had the privilege of him devoting his full and unwavering love and attention to them. He wasn’t the kind of person who had the need to fix others, nor was he interested in doing charity cases. What he was interested in was bettering the lives of those he’d decided to enrich his own life with. It felt like making an investment in more than just their own lives, but also in his and the lives of all other people in the world. He vehemently believed in having surrounded himself with people who ought to make the change in this place we all call home, and if he could have a role in that, he’d gladly take it. Because soon, he’d be able to tell that he’s lived approximately half of his life and haven’t done anything particularly meaningful, except contributing to making this wonderful person happier and that would be more than enough.
With Ophelia having agreed to his pleas, the rest of the night was easier to manage. Once they found their way to Ophelia’s home, he devoted himself to keeping up his promise. He’d urged the brunette to take a warm shower, at very least, if not even a bubble bath while he fixes her up a hot beverage. Chamomile, as he’d learned during his lessons regarding healthy diet back when starting with professional boxing, would ease her into the sleep. He decided, as well, to grab some remaining citruses that he’d found in Ophelia’s fridge, near to rotting away, and put them into a pot of boiling water to release some of their essences into the room – hoping she’d find it comforting. Of course, all while being careful not to wake her brother up, he sneaked into the bedroom to get two blankets because tonight was a particularly chilly night and picked up few of the scattered things around the room to clean up before she returned.
Jay could hear the steps of another approaching nearby just as the kettle came to boil and he pulled out two mugs for both of them. Without turning around, he quietly addressed Ophelia before even spotting her, certain she’d hear him speak “I was trying to find those candles I bought for you a month ago, but you totally moved things around here, didn’t you?” Absentmindedly he wondered if that’s what she busied herself with to take her mind off of all the shit going on her life, and couldn’t help but wish that she’d called him instead and asked for a distraction. Somehow, he felt as he could’ve done more and he wanted to have been there more for her. He genuinely missed having her around, a warm womanly touch to his usually solitary life. Maybe he should tell her that.
“Is it selfish of me to say that I missed having you around?”
