☯: what my muse says to yours after they haven’t spoken for five hours since a fight
‘Home’ had always been something of a foreign concept for Jiyeon, in the sense that there was never a place she’d ever felt wanted. Welcome. Certainly she’d always had a roof over her head- a roof that belong to a large, beautiful villa with a large, beautiful bedroom with a large, beautiful bed and a large, beautiful closet to house her large, beautiful collection of expensive clothing. She’d never wanted for anything in her lifetime– except that one element of ‘home’ that was missing from her own. That feeling of warmth, of family. It was something her actual family home had always lacked, and something she’d craved for most of her life.
She’d wanted it so much she hadn’t even realized that she’d found it when she did.
The loft felt more like home than anywhere she’d ever been in her life– and just like the home she’d been asked to leave weeks before, it was also now somewhere where she was no longer welcome.
The backpack on her shoulders felt heavier than usual, stuffed with all of her belongings– she’d even had to leave her blanket behind, although she’d stashed it cleverly in Noah’s room, knowing he wouldn’t throw it away, at least. The weight had slowed her down considerably, and she sank into the plastic seating outside of a convenience store for what felt like the umpteenth time, letting it slide from her shoulders and letting her body double forward to rest her chin against the table.
She had no idea where she was going. Somewhere, eventually. But right now it was easier to just walk than it was to think. She really didn’t want to think.
However, Jiyeon had also learned that wants and necessities were two separate entities. She sighed when she saw his reflection in the glass in front of her, waiting for the sound of him coming to a halt behind her before speaking. “How did you find me?”
“That? Easy,” Jackson slid into the chair nearest hers, folding his hands in his lap and unable to hide the grin on his face, too proud of the joke he hadn’t even made yet. “I just asked anyone if they’d seen a dinosaur on the loose.”
Her eyes rolled on their own. She didn’t even have to do it for them. “Ha ha.” Still, she pulled down the hood of her jacket, puffing up her cheeks self-consciously. It was pretty conspicuous attire, but she hadn’t realized she didn’t want to be found until she had.
His lips pulled tight, head rocking back unimpressed. “You’re still mad, huh?” Of course, she had a right to be, he thought. Her anger was a little misdirected, but it definitely wasn’t wrong. “I texted you. A lot.”
Jiyeon’s eyes flicked over her shoulder to her backpack. “I know. I ignored you. A lot.” She’d heard her phone roaring (literally) with every text she’d received, but she hadn’t stopped to check them– it wasn’t like anything anyone who could possibly be texting her could change much of anything. She’d look at them eventually. Maybe when she was settled with a place to sleep for the night, whether it be the sauna, hotel room or, her old favorite, the playground.
“Rude.” He snorted, amused, letting himself relax more in the chair. It really had been a surprise to show up and not find a single piece of dinosaur paraphernalia anywhere in the loft– not even so much as a dirty Jurassic Park t-shirt in the laundry room. It hadn’t taken him long to put two and two together, to figure out what had happened while he was out trying to organize the thoughts that got so jumbled and tangled every time he stepped over the threshold of his current abode. This little mess was just one stacked on top of several others, and even though they were all his problem to deal with, this one was somewhat different because it was also, indirectly, his fault. “I didn’t mean to tell him. It just kinda slipped out without thinking. I didn’t want to throw you under the bus, okay? I just wanted him to see–” His eyes squeezed shut as the heel of her shoe (thankfully just a pair of Keds) dug itself into the toe of his, and Jackson silently thanked the Old Gods and the New that he’d not chosen to wear the Timbs out today. “I deserved that,” he forced out, pained, drawing his leg toward himself once she’d relented.
While he nursed his foot, cradling his sneakered show in his hands, she’d kept quiet, letting herself fall forward until her chin yet again rested against the table.
“He hates me.” She breathed the words, eyes closed but lips pulling into a frown.
Jackson dropped his foot back to the ground heavily, leaning forward and resting his chin on his palm, eyelids drooping with a deep fatigue that took longer than he’d expected to hit him. It’s not surprising she’d blame herself, because Kade had blamed her. “No he doesn’t,” he started, but paused, afraid he might be lying. “Well… maybe he thinks he does,” he corrected himself, arms folding to support his chin as he lowered himself to her level. “But he doesn’t know you to hate you.”
A heavily made-up eye cracked open to look across the table at him. “Maybe.” It wasn’t entire untrue. She didn’t know Kade to hate him, either, although she supposed they both had their reasons to hate one another well justified in their own minds. “But it doesn’t change how he feels.”
It pained him to agree. “Yeah. I know.” And it pained him even more to sit himself back up, rubbing his neck and shoulder under the material of his shirt. He hadn’t realized just how exhausted he’d felt when he’d come running after her. Like he could sleep like a sack of bricks for the next week and never wake up except to kiss Emily good morning and good night. His sighs were just as heavy as hers. “Look. Let’s… just get you set up somewhere for tonight, and then we’ll worry about the rest of it tomorrow. Sound good?” He stopped for a reply but only received her turning both eyes on him rather than just one. “I’m not gonna leave you with nowhere to go. No– we’re not.” Devon and Noah definitely wouldn’t like it, either– and Kade, too, if Kade were thinking like Kade and not the Kade he’d become when he was so high and defensive and gone.
“…you mean it?” Her voice was so cautious it killed him.
All he could do was smile, laying a heavy hand on her head and mussing up her hair, relieved despite the perturbed look she shot him– just glad to see anything other than that look of utter defeat she’d been sporting since he’d found her.
