❀ ◦ paring ◦ barista!jay x reader
❀ ◦ genre ◦ fluff fluff and a bit crack
❀ ◦ synopsis ◦ jay was never really intrested in anyone.. untill you stumbled into the his cafe one warm afternoon.
❀ ◦ warnings ◦ just a bit of swearing
❀ ◦ word count ◦ 1700 (exact !)
❀ ◦ note ◦ little jay barista au hehe, hes a bit of a loser in this one too (i love losers). maybe i should make one for the other members too 👀. Anyways hope yall enjoy and thank you to my one and only beta reader @lovegreenie !! <333
❀ ◦ taglist ◦ @kristynaaah @beenusflytrap @nari-roll
❀ ◦ masterlist
Jay wiped down the counters, the cloth moving in rhythmic circles as Sunghoon stretched out lazily in his seat, waiting for an order that might never come. The cafe was a quiet little hole-in-the-wall, the kind of place people stumbled upon accidentally and swore they'd come back to… but rarely did.
“And?” Sunghoon repeated skeptically. “You don’t think it's annoying? I mean, come on. I’m clearly the more handsome friend.”
Jay finally glanced over, unimpressed. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Sunghoon grinned, unbothered. “The real question is… why don’t you ever find anyone cute? Like, ever? Are you secretly an alien or just ridiculously picky?”
Jay exhaled, setting the cloth down. “I don’t know? I have standards?”
Sunghoon groaned, throwing his arms up.
“Standards? Dude, you’re just making excuses for not being able to pull.” He chuckled, leaning in, eyes narrowing. “What’s it gonna take for someone to actually catch your eye?”
Jay simply shrugged. “Someone I don’t get tired of.”
Sunghoon stared at him before letting out a dramatic sigh. “So basically, a miracle.”
Jay smirked, returning to cleaning. “Something like that.”
It was a slow day at the cafe, nothing but the steady hum of the espresso machine and the occasional rustling of chairs. The quiet was interrupted by the soft chime of the doorbell, signaling a new customer.
Sunghoon glanced up from his place behind the counter and stretched lazily. "Hey, can you handle this one? I need to use the bathroom."
Jay nodded, tossing aside the rag he’d been using to wipe down tables before stepping up to the register.
"Hello, ma’am, what would you like to orde-" His voice faltered mid-sentence as he looked up.
His body went rigid, frozen in place like a deer in headlights.
There you were, standing in front of him with a bright, easygoing smile.
Why did his heart feel like it had been kicked into overdrive?
Something about you was different, almost unreal in the warm afternoon glow streaming through the windows. The soft curve of your lips, the effortless way you carried yourself, the quiet confidence in your gaze, it was disarming.
"Hi, may I get a peach ade with a bacon cheese sandwich?" you asked, completely unaware of the effect you had on him.
Jay blinked. Stared a bit too long.
Shit, stop staring. Stop staring.
Then, realizing he was just standing there like an idiot, he snapped back into reality, fumbling for the register.
"Oh uh- okay, that uhh- would uh be… fifteen total... May I uhm- get your name, please?" he stammered, mentally cursing himself for sounding like a fool.
You tilted your head slightly before chuckling at his flustered state, giving him your name and the money before making your way to a seat by the window.
Jay exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus as he keyed in your order.
What the heck was that Jay
He was praying to the gods above that Sunghoon did not see his fumble.
Too bad the gods were busy today.
Jay barely had a moment to breathe before Sunghoon leaned in, his voice low with amusement.
"What the hell was that? You so find her cute" he whispered, eyes twinkling with mischief.
Jay shot him a sharp look. "Be quiet. And make the bacon cheese."
But Sunghoon wasn’t done. "Oh hoo hoo, someone's a bit defensive. Looks like you have a type, my friend. Cute ones, huh?"
Jay scowled, but his glare only made Sunghoon chuckle as he walked off. "Can’t wait to tell Jake about this" he added teasingly before disappearing into the kitchen.
Left alone, Jay sighed, turning back to prepare your peach ade.
Except now, it was impossible not to glance over at you.
The way your skin glowed under the afternoon light, the effortless way you tucked your hair behind your ear, the soft smile playing on your lips as you scrolled through your phone, it was distracting. Too distracting.
Oh god, she’s so beautiful-
Oh, fuck-
The sound of ice overflowing snapped Jay out of his daze, spilling past the edges of the plastic cup. His eyes widened in panic as he scrambled to fix it, stammering under his breath while dumping the mess and starting over. And to make matters worse his best buddy started laughing by the grill.
Sunghoon was never going to let this go.
Jay had one thought running through his head as he prepared your drink, this has to be perfect.
“Okay, lover boy, try blinking sometime. Your eyes look like they’re gonna pop out from how hard you’re concentrating” he teased, placing the finished sandwich at the pick-up zone.
Jay ignored him, waving him off as he continued making your peach ade, though his focus kept slipping. He risked another glance… just a quick one.
But then you looked up at him.
F-ck.
Jay immediately dropped his gaze, a sharp blush creeping across his cheeks.
Shit- how long have I been staring at her?
Mentally punching himself, he scrambled to finish your drink, shaking off his nerves. He set the cup on the counter, stepping away to grab a tray, he might as well serve it properly.
But when he turned back, Sunghoon was holding the peach ade, inspecting it.
Jay narrowed his eyes. “What? Is there something wrong with it?”
Sunghoon’s smirk was downright criminal as he hastily set the cup back down. “No, no, nothing’s wrong” he said, far too innocently.
Jay rolled his eyes, placing the sandwich and drink onto the tray before finally heading toward you, willing himself to stay calm.
Let’s see how long that lasts.
Jay approached your table carefully, placing the tray down with practiced ease. "Hello, here’s your order, ma’am" he greeted softly.
You looked up, smiling. “Thank you…” Your eyes flickered down, scanning the name tag pinned to his chest.
“… Jay.”
His heart stopped.
God dammit, Jongseong, snap out of it.
Jay barely managed to stammer out, "I uh- your welcome" before making a hasty exit, not before nearly tripping over a nearby table. He scurried behind the counter, face burning with embarrassment as Sunghoon broke into laughter, clutching his stomach.
"Nice one, rizzler" Sunghoon mocks, snorting between gasps for air.
"Whatever" Jay grumbled, turning on the sink to wash his hands. "Just leave it be. It’s not like I’ll see her again."
Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, twirling a pen between his fingers. "Are you sure about that?"
Jay paused, slowly turning to him in an exaggeratedly comical way, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"What did you do?"
"Nothing" Sunghoon said, faking his innocence. "Just being the best hecking wingman on earth." His proud smirk made Jay’s stomach sink.
Immediately, Jay turned back toward you.
You were holding the cup, inspecting something closely, your fingers brushing over the writing. His chest tightened as he audibly gasped.
"What did you put on the cup?" Jay hissed, already feeling the panic rise.
"Did you make me look like a weirdo? a creep??" He grabbed Sunghoon by the shoulders, shaking him with newfound urgency.
Before Sunghoon could answer, the cafe bell rang.
Jay stilled. You were at the counter, waiting.
Sunghoon chuckled, nudging Jay forward. "Better go find out for yourself.”
Jay swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his voice steady.
"Hi uh-, how can I help you?"
You smiled softly, handing him your peach ade and half-eaten sandwich. "I was just wondering if I could get these to go?"
Ah, shit.
Jay stiffened. You were leaving.
Did she think I was a creep? Or worse, did Sunghoon's dumbass message on the cup scare her off?
"Oh, yeah, of course" he replied quickly, taking your items to fix them up for takeout. He walked into the back room to grab a bag, only to find Sunghoon waiting for him, arms crossed.
"Thanks a lot, hoon. You made her leave. She probably thinks I’m a creep" Jay grumbled.
Sunghoon scoffed. "What? I literally just put a ‘ur cute’… Welp, nice try, dude. Maybe you’re just not her type."
Jay rolled his eyes dramatically. "Ouch."
Still feeling weirdly defeated, Jay finished packing your order, stepping back out to the counter.
He tried to keep his composure, pretending this was just another normal customer exchange, but the sting of rejection lingered.
Oh well.
He handed you the bag, managing a small smile. "Here’s your takeout."
"Thank you." You reached for the bag, and for a fleeting second, Jay noticed a soft shade of pink rising onto your cheeks.
Odd.
He didn’t question it, until you hesitated, glancing at the counter.
"Uh… can you throw this out for me?" You placed a slightly crumpled napkin on the surface, offering him a quick smile before hurriedly making your way out of the cafe.
Jay raised an eyebrow, confused.
Then, he looked down at the napkin.
His eyes widened.
"SHE GAVE ME HER NUMBER" he exclaimed, voice borderline frantic.
Jay stared at the napkin in utter disbelief, his grip tightening around the flimsy paper like it was some kind of sacred relic. His pulse hammered in his ears.
From the back room, Sunghoon’s head popped out, eyes wide. "SHE DID?!"
Jay had never felt this much excitement, his face breaking into the goofiest grin imaginable. He barely registered Sunghoon stepping closer, eyeing the napkin with intrigue.
"Dude, close your mouth, you’re gonna catch a fly" Sunghoon teased, glancing down at the messy scribble of numbers on the paper.
Jay didn’t hear him. His eyes darted toward the cafe window, spotting you disappearing down the street.
I should text her. Definitely should text her… later.
He just leaned against the counter, exhaling a breathless chuckle.
"Wow…" he muttered, still dazed. "This is the kind of junk that would get a standing ovation in a landfill."
A beat of silence.
Sunghoon scoffed. "Genuinely, remind me never to assist you in anything ever again. I fear enabling whatever this is."
Jay rolled his eyes, finally snapping out of it, folding the napkin neatly and then placing it in his pocket safely.
i have been working on this chapter for weeks since I got the idea but didn't know how to put it together correctly, but i think im come up with something good? maybe
also pls ignore how i switch back and forth between she and they for jay, i kept flipflopping while writing this so now jay is she/they in this fic. thx <3
wc: 3> k
Chapter One: The Stories People Tell
Linda never thought love would happen to her in real life.
She wasn’t sure if it was because of who she was — quiet, cautious, too busy solving everyone else’s problems to make space for her own — or if she’d just seen too much of the world to believe love worked the way people said it did.
It was easy to believe in destiny when you were a Soul Rider. Harder to believe someone could fall in love with you when your nights were filled with nightmares and rune-borne headaches.
She didn’t talk about it, of course. Not with the other girls. Not even with Alex, who sometimes gave her a knowing look when the others weren't paying attention, like she knew Linda was holding something back.
But there was nothing to say.
Not really.
Linda liked reading about love. The sweeping gestures, the stolen glances, the lines that made her underline entire pages in her worn-out paperbacks. She’d curl up under her window with a blanket and lose herself in stories where someone was always brave enough to say it. To reach out. To want someone with everything they had.
But when she closed the book, the silence settled around her again, soft and still. And it was just her. Just the rustle of pages and the ache of something she couldn’t name.
She never quite believed the cute stories she heard about couples meeting in line for coffee or bumping into each other on the street. They were good stories. Charming. But how real were they? People always left the hard parts out. The fights, the doubt, the way love could turn into something heavy and difficult. Something you had to choose, again and again, even when it wasn’t easy.
Maybe she was projecting. She’d never been in a relationship. Not even close. All her romance consisted of watching Pride and Prejudice with popcorn and a blanket wrapped tight around her shoulders like armor.
Sometimes she wondered if the books she read had ruined her. Set her standards impossibly high. She wanted someone kind, yes — but also clever. Thoughtful. Someone who would challenge her, make her feel something real. Not a shallow crush or a fleeting spark, but something with gravity.
Something that meant something.
And honestly, the idea that anyone would see her that way? It felt impossible.
Like she was too sharp around the edges. Too closed-off. Too complicated.
But then the dreams started.
At first, she dismissed them. Dreams weren’t unusual for her. She’d always been connected to things others couldn’t explain — old visions, whispers from the past, fragments of the future. But this was different.
She kept seeing the same figure. Always in the shadows. Tall. Strong. A presence that moved like a storm — not chaotic, but charged. Like they carried lightning under their skin. Linda could never see their face clearly, but their presence was unmistakable. Familiar. Not frightening, but magnetic. Like the moon caught in orbit around a sun it hadn’t realized it needed.
And every time she woke up from the dreams, her heart was racing. Her skin tingled. Her fingers itched for a pen.
She started writing them down — every detail she could remember — in the journal she now kept tucked beneath her pillow. It had once been for tracking visions, rune meanings, ancient texts. Now it was full of entries that began with things like They were closer this time, Their voice sounded like thunder wrapped in velvet, and I think they touched my hand, but I can’t be sure.
It felt foolish, romantic in a way she didn’t want to admit. But she couldn’t stop. Something in her needed to remember.
Sometimes, in the stillness just before dawn, she would whisper the same question into the quiet air:
“Is there someone who could actually love me?”
Someone who wouldn’t find her too intense or too quiet or too tangled in her thoughts. Someone who could be the sun to her moon. Someone who could live in harmony with her without asking her to be someone else.
And sometimes, the silence answered with a feeling — warmth curling at the edge of her ribs, like the echo of a touch she hadn’t yet received.
Maybe it was magic. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was nothing at all.
But the next morning, Linda stepped outside to find the early sky heavy with stars, and the wind whispering through the trees like a secret only she could hear. Her gaze lifted instinctively to the moon — hanging low, full, golden — and for a single breathless moment, she didn’t feel so alone.
She didn’t know it yet, but someone was already orbiting her.
Already pulled by the same quiet gravity.
And that someone was on her way.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡
Jay was chaos incarnate.
She didn’t even say it to be dramatic — It wasn’t a metaphor. It wasn’t poetic. It was just facts. People called her a lot of things. Dangerous. Erratic. A little unhinged. She wore it like armor, loud and sharp, because what else was she supposed to do? Play nice?
Didn’t help that she served Garnok. Minor detail. That label stuck to her like oil, thick and impossible to scrub off. People didn’t see her. They saw the shadow behind her, the storm she came with. They didn’t get her cause, didn’t get her power. What it meant to fight for something different. Something darker, sure, but still hers.
Jay wasn’t in the business of being liked. People didn’t get her. They liked rules, liked neat lines and clear intentions. Jay was a blur. She’d rather be fire than a page number in someone’s carefully organized book.
But if she was being honest with herself — and that didn’t happen often — Jay knew the truth.
She was a loser.
Not in a tragic, cool antihero way. No, this was worse. This was pathetic loser. The kind of loser who could dodge magical attacks like a pro but couldn’t hold a conversation with a cute girl without combusting. Sure, she had the look. Tall, angular, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. Her eyeliner game was consistently on point. She could smirk with the best of them. But none of it mattered the second she actually tried to flirt.
She’d open her mouth and it was all over. Just boom — dignity gone. Words tripping over each other like they were trying to escape her own brain. Girls looked at her like they weren’t sure whether to laugh or walk away slowly.
Flirting? A joke. Every attempt ended in awkward silences or something deeply regrettable falling out of her mouth. Once, she tried complimenting a girl’s eyeliner and ended up saying it looked like a bird had cried on her face. It was a look, sure, but not the one she meant.
Sabine laughed every time. That bitch lived for it. “You’ve got the presence of a god and the game of a wet napkin,” she’d said once, after watching Jay stammer through a conversation with some rider from Fort Pinta.
Jay had flipped her off, obviously. Then walked straight into a fence.
Sabine lived for Jay’s social pain. She’d sit back, arms folded, smirking like some gothic devil coach watching Jay crash and burn with every interaction. She offered no advice, of course. Only suffering. That was Sabine's love language.
She didn’t know what it was. Maybe she cared too much. Maybe she was cursed. Maybe Garnok had a twisted sense of humor and enjoyed watching her suffer. She could pretend it didn’t bother her. That she didn’t care that people didn’t take her seriously. That being the charming one among the Dark Riders was like being the funniest person in a coffin.
The truth was, it did bother her. Sometimes. On the quieter days.
And for some reason, the whole “cool bad girl” thing only worked when she was around the Soul Riders. And even then — even then — it wasn’t really working. Not the way she wanted.
Because there was one of them she couldn’t stop thinking about.
Linda.
Too smart for her own good. Too calm. Always looked like she was holding the universe in her hands and weighing it against a moral scale Jay didn’t know how to read. And God, did that terrify her.
Jay had never been around someone so… composed. So sure. Linda made her feel like she was about to say something dumb and important every time they were in the same room. Like she was going to accidentally confess something she wasn’t ready to know about herself.
Linda looked at her sometimes — not like Sabine did, or like Alex did, with suspicion or scorn — but like she was trying to understand her. Like Jay was a riddle she actually wanted to solve.
And Jay hated that.
Except she didn’t. Not even a little.
She’d tried to flirt once. A joke. A wink. Something.
And Jay? Well, she could pretend it didn’t bother her. That she didn’t care that people didn’t take her seriously. That being the charming one among the Dark Riders was like being the funniest person in a coffin.
But the truth was, it did bother her. Sometimes. On the quieter days.
Sure, she had the looks — lean and dangerous, like the end of a lit fuse. Sure, she had some charm — usually the kind that got her punched. But when it came to the Soul Riders? That whole too-good-for-this-world, power-of-light, friendship-is-magic crowd?
Jay didn’t know what the hell her problem was.
Why could she talk to anyone except them?
More specifically — why could she talk to Alex, or tease Lisa, or even mess with Anne when she showed up all icy and fragile — but choke like a broken spell the moment Linda turned those calm, intelligent eyes on her?
Linda was the worst. The absolute worst.
Not because she did anything. Oh no. That was the problem. Linda just existed — quiet, still, thoughtful — and Jay’s brain turned into mush. Something about her made Jay feel like a planet caught in orbit. Like gravity was personal now, and it wore glasses and knew more about ancient texts than anyone had a right to.
It wasn’t fair.
Jay had flirted with sorcerers, survived magical duels, had a scythe thrown at her one time — but Linda looked at her with soft concentration, and she forgot how to stand.
What kind of twisted karma was that?
Jay didn’t get it. She didn’t get her. But she couldn’t stop looking. Couldn’t stop trying to say the right thing. Couldn’t stop this stupid fluttering thing in her chest every time Linda said her name like it meant something.
Maybe it was a curse.
Or maybe, Jay thought grimly, leaning against a crumbling stone wall under the setting sun, you’re just a loser in love.
Jay took a deep breath before kicking off the crumbling wall outside Fort Maria.
The stone scraped against the back of her boots as she straightened, brushing dust off her sleeves like she hadn’t just been pacing back and forth like some lovesick idiot. Which she wasn’t. Obviously. She was there on a mission. For strategy. For intel.
Totally not because Linda had walked in twenty minutes ago, her soft green sweater swaying with every step like it wasn’t designed to ruin Jay’s entire mental stability.
Jay rolled her shoulders. Steeled herself.
“You’re being stupid,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair, trying not to notice how shaky it felt. “It’s just a puny little Soul Rider. Nothing special. Just a bookworm with a glowy destiny and really, really nice eyes.”
God. Fuck.
Why the fuck was she so nervous?
Jay had done worse things than this. They’d broken into sacred libraries, stolen from druids, insulted the literal spirit of Aideen once (by accident, but still). This should be nothing. They should be walking in there with her usual cocky smirk and a casual insult on her tongue, not… this.
Not heart flutters.
Not this twisting, sinking, floating mess in her chest that made her want Linda to notice her. To maybe talk to her like she wasn’t just some walking disaster with a tragic backstory and a demon supervisor.
Maybe if Linda looked at her the way she looked at runes — like Jay was something ancient and meaningful and worth decoding — maybe they’d finally stop feeling like their insides were at war with themselves.
Jay groaned and thunked her head lightly against the wall behind her.
She was losing it.
But this wasn’t about feelings. It wasn’t about… whatever soft, unholy ache had taken up residence in her ribs every time Linda was nearby.
This was recon. Strategy. A power play. They were going to walk in, be cool, be smooth, get the info, maybe toss out a few witty remarks that didn’t sound like a goblin choking on glitter, and leave.
Easy. Clean. Professional.
Jay let out one last breath — slow and steady — then pushed off the wall and stalked toward the entrance, trying to ignore the way their pulse quickened with every step.
Inside, the air was cooler. Dusty. Old magic clung to the walls like perfume and memory, but Jay barely noticed. She was already scanning the shadows.
And when their eyes landed on Linda — seated at one of the long tables, books spread out around her like wings, a thoughtful crease in her brow and a soft glow tracing the tips of her fingers as she worked — Jay felt it again.
That stupid flutter.
That gravitational pull.
They muttered under her breath.
“…I’m so fucked.”
Jay took a few slow steps forward, already regretting everything.
Linda hadn’t noticed them yet. She was deep in whatever text lay open on the table, fingers lightly brushing the page as if coaxing secrets from the paper. Her brow was furrowed in focus, lips parted slightly like she was just about to say something brilliant to no one in particular.
Jay should’ve walked away.
But instead, they cleared their throat.
Linda looked up — calm, unreadable, always that soft blend of precision and power.
Jay’s mouth went dry.
“Hey,” they said, trying to sound casual. It came out closer to a bark.
Linda blinked. “Hi?”
Neutral. Not hostile. Suspicious, maybe. That was fair.
Jay shoved their hands into their jacket pockets and leaned back against the nearest shelf. Or they tried to. They missed, caught the edge weird, and a dusty thump echoed into the silence.
Linda tilted her head. “Are you lost?”
“What? No. I’m not— I’m exactly where I meant to be.”
Jay laughed, sharp and too loud. “I mean, I did take a wrong turn once. Into… your eyes.”
Silence.
Utter silence.
Jay immediately wanted to evaporate.
Linda stared, clearly unsure whether she’d just been threatened or flirted with. “...Was that supposed to be a line?”
Jay fumbled for a comeback, found absolutely nothing but regret and the sudden overwhelming heat of their own face. “Forget I said anything. I’m—uh. I was in the area. Thought I’d… check on what your little cult’s been up to lately.”
“Right.” Linda slowly closed her book, expression unreadable. “Because that’s something a loyal Garnok servant casually does. Checks in. Politely.”
“I’m unpredictable,” Jay offered. “It’s one of my many flaws.”
They were trying to smirk but it came out crooked, nervous. They hated this. They didn’t even know why they were doing this — standing here, trying to seem intimidating or charming or something that would make Linda look at them like they weren’t just an intruder in her perfect little world.
Their phone buzzed in their pocket.
They glanced down and swore under their breath.
[SABINE 🖤💀]
how’s the soul rider situation
confessed your weird lil crush yet or nah
Jay didn’t answer. They shoved the phone deep in their jacket and looked back up — only to find Linda watching them with that subtle, analytical look she always had when she was about to win an argument.
“You came here just to see me, didn’t you?” she said quietly.
Jay stiffened. “What? No. No, I—”
Linda arched an eyebrow. “Don’t worry. I won’t report it to Sabine that you’ve gone soft.”
“I’m not soft.”
Linda smiled — faint, knowing. “Mmhmm.”
Jay turned, cursing softly as they walked away — fast, awkward, a full retreat.
Once they were out of the room and out of sight, they pulled out their phone and groaned.
[JAY 💀✨]
she knows
i wanna die
bury me w/ my dignity (rip)
Sabine replied instantly.
[SABINE 🖤💀]
u don’t have any dignity
fine i’ll bury u next to ur shame
LMAO
Jay typed back furiously.
[JAY 💀✨]
i hate her
she’s insufferable
i can’t stop thinking about her
And then, one more, sent before they could stop themselves:
[JAY 💀✨]
do u think she ever dreams about me too?
Jay didn't get any intel. fuck.
Linda didn't close the book until long after Jay left.
She sat still, staring at the place they’d stood — a haze of awkward energy and something else she couldn’t quite name. She told herself it was suspicion. That she was analyzing motives, threats, intentions. That she was being a Soul Rider, doing her duty.
But her fingers tapped anxiously at the edge of the page, betraying her.
What was that? Jay had looked like they were trying to flirt and break in at the same time. Their energy had been chaotic in the way a storm is — unpredictable, loud, and unsettling. And for some stupid reason, Linda couldn’t stop replaying the look on their face when she asked if they were lost.
They had looked... terrified.
She shook her head and reached for her journal — not the public-facing one she kept with her notes on magical disturbances and historical patterns. The other one. The one with her dreams.
The one she hid beneath her pillow.
She flipped through it slowly, pages already full of that same figure she kept dreaming about. Cloaked in shadows. Always half-turned. Close, but not near enough to touch. She’d been seeing them for months, sketching the curve of their shoulders, the defiance in their stance.
Last week, she’d written:
“The figure looked at me this time. Just a flicker. Their eyes weren’t cruel. Just… tired.”
And now?
Now she knew who those eyes belonged to.
Linda swallowed hard and grabbed a pen.
“Jay came to Fort Maria today. It wasn’t a dream.”
She hesitated, hovering the pen over the page, then continued.
“They tried to act like they were just snooping, but it was so clumsy it almost felt honest. Like they didn’t know how to be threatening around me. Or didn’t want to be.”
She paused again. Her stomach twisted.
“Why do I feel like they’re hiding something else entirely? Something even they don’t know how to name.”
She capped the pen and closed the book, resting her hand on top of it.
Jay was dangerous. Linda knew that. A dark rider, tangled in shadows and reckless magic, probably following some barely coherent plan that Sabine cooked up while twirling a dagger and laughing to herself.
But Jay wasn’t like the others.
They didn’t move like a soldier. They didn’t talk like someone who wanted to hurt her. They didn’t lie well.
And when they looked at her — really looked at her — it didn’t feel like an enemy trying to figure out how to strike.
It felt like someone looking for a reason to stay.
Linda exhaled slowly and leaned back, closing her eyes.
The worst part? The part she would never admit to anyone?
She kind of wanted to see them again.
Linda sighed and pushed back from the desk, the legs of her chair scraping lightly against the old stone floor. The air in Fort Maria was always cool, but something about it tonight felt different — heavy, like something was pressing in from the edges of her awareness. Like she’d stepped into the middle of a conversation she couldn’t quite hear.
Visions had been getting stranger lately.
Longer. Louder.
And now she thought it was Jay was showing up in them — not as a villain, not even as a warning. Just there. A presence. An ache. A question her magic kept asking and refusing to answer.
She walked through the aisle slowly, fingertips grazing the spines of the books as she scanned the shelves. The familiar scent of old parchment and dust wrapped around her like a blanket, grounding her. This place had always been her safe zone — cold, quiet, predictable.
But nothing felt predictable now.
Jay’s voice echoed in her head, distorted by memory:
“I’m exactly where I meant to be.”
Linda snorted quietly to herself. “You’re full of it,” she muttered under her breath.
Still, her heart stuttered.
She found the book she was looking for — a thick, battered volume titled Transcendent States and Shared Dreamscapes: Aetherial Theory and Reality. Heavy stuff, even for her. But if she was going to keep seeing Jay — in dreams and in reality — she needed to understand what it meant.
She pulled the book free and flipped it open, scanning the chapter list.
Chapter 3: Recurring Entities in Magical Visions
Chapter 6: Emotional Signatures Across Planar Connections
Chapter 9: The Uninvited Familiar — Soulmate Occurances in Visions
Her breath caught.
She turned quickly to Chapter 9.
“In rare cases, A soulmate can appear in the dreams or visions of the magically enhanced. When this occurs, there is nothing to destory or change the soulmate bond. They are bound forever, forced to revolve around one another in harmony. While some claim to be emotionally disruptive, a soulmate bond through the dreamworld can enhance one another power, creating powerful entities."
Linda snapped the book shut.
Emotionally disruptive.
Yeah. That sounded about right.
She should’ve told someone already. Alex, maybe. Or Elizabeth. But what could she even say?
“Hey, I think I might be dream-bonded to one of our sworn enemies, and also possibly have a complicated crush on them?”
Not exactly strategic intelligence.
She cradled the book in her arms and leaned against the shelf for a moment, staring blankly at the opposite wall. Her reflection shimmered faintly in the glass of a nearby cabinet, the rune lights flickering just enough to distort the edges.
Behind her reflection, for a second — just a blink — she swore she saw them.
That shadowy figure from her dreams. Standing just behind her shoulder.
She spun.
Empty.
Only silence.
But her pulse was racing again, and her hands were gripping the book so tight the cover creaked.
“Get it together,” she whispered.
But part of her — the part ruled by intuition more than logic — already knew:
Jay was more than a dream.
And this was more than just magic, but what if Linda didn't want it?
✦ The Center of Her Moon ✦
my last gift to you on pride month is awkward jaylinda ( yes i know its july but i havent gone to bed yet so its still june so HAH)
also yes i know theres some pacing issues and it might be a bit rushed but writers block was kicking my ass and i finished it so im happy enough with it.
(:
wc: 3.2k
Chapter 3 : Neutral Ground
The clock chimed softly as Linda crept through the back door of the stable house, boots damp with dew, hair tousled from the ride back. Meteor had barely cooled down. She’d galloped hard the whole way, like she could outrun the tangled mess of emotion burning in her chest.
She barely got inside before someone called out from the kitchen.
“Linda?” Lisa’s voice. Gentle. A little too gentle.
Linda flinched, quickly smoothing her hair, schooling her face into calm before stepping into the kitchen. Lisa sat at the table with tea in her hands, brow furrowed.
Alex was perched on the counter, arms crossed, legs swinging like a cat waiting to strike.
Linda blinked. “Hey. You’re both... up early.”
Alex narrowed her eyes. “It’s not early. It’s late. Or early. Or whatever you call sneaking out in the middle of the night without telling anyone.”
“I wasn’t—sneaking,” Linda said too quickly. “I—uh—I went to Fort Maria. I had a... vision.”
Lisa set her mug down slowly. “Why didn’t you wake us?”
Linda hated lying. She could feel it in her teeth. “It wasn’t urgent. Just... weird. Personal.”
Alex hopped off the counter. “So personal you couldn’t even text?”
“I forgot.” She hadn’t. Her phone had buzzed twice. She’d silenced it and shoved it deeper into her bag.
Alex stepped forward, eyes sharp. “And you’re telling me this had nothing to do with that Dark Rider we saw you talking to last week?”
Linda’s stomach dropped. “What? No. I wasn’t—I didn’t—Jay didn’t—”
Lisa blinked. “Jay?”
Linda froze.
Dead. She was dead. Bury her under the Rune Stones. Feed her to Garnok. She’d never survive this.
“I mean, they—I mean, that one. I wasn’t talking to anyone. I was studying. Alone.”
Alex raised a brow. “You’re a really bad liar.”
Linda flushed, ears burning. “I’m not lying.”
Lisa sighed. “We’re not accusing you. We’re just... worried. You’ve been different lately. Tired. Distant.”
“I’m fine,” Linda said too fast. “Really. It’s just the visions. They’ve been strange lately. I needed air.”
“You needed air at 3AM?” Alex asked flatly.
“Yes.”
“You’re a nerd,” Alex muttered, turning to rummage through the fridge. “A suspicious nerd.”
“I—look, I’ll tell you more once I understand it myself,” Linda said, reaching for the kettle. “Right now, I just... need time.”
Lisa watched her a moment longer, then gave a small, reluctant nod. “Okay. But we’re here. Alright?”
Linda returned it, voice quieter. “Thanks.”
As Lisa turned away and Alex mumbled something about “bookworm secrets,” Linda gripped the counter.
Jay’s face flickered in her mind — the quiet, uncertain way they’d said her name, the dream that still pulsed like a second heartbeat under her skin.
She couldn’t tell them. Not yet.
She wasn’t even sure what this was.
But whatever it was… it was beginning.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡
Linda curled under the blanket like it might hold her together.
She’d lied. Badly. Alex knew. Lisa suspected. And Linda… couldn’t stop seeing Jay’s face every time she blinked — all sharp sarcasm softening into something vulnerable when they’d said her name.
She was exhausted. Too tired to fight it.
The second her eyes closed, the world fell away.
And the dream began.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡
Barefoot on soft moss, silver-lit trees whispering above. The sky shimmered like glass and starlight. Cool air, humming with something ancient. And ahead—
Jay.
Not cloaked in shadow. Not armored in sarcasm. Just… them. Loose jacket. Moonlight in their hair. Hands awkwardly stuffed into pockets.
Linda’s breath caught. “You again.”
Jay smiled — crooked and cautious. “You keep showing up in my head. I figured I’d say hi this time.”
She stepped closer. “You’re a dream.”
“You don’t dream about people you hate, do you?”
“I don’t hate you.”
Jay looked surprised. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“I’m just...” She hesitated. “Confused.”
Jay moved forward too. Slow. Careful. Like a wrong step might break the world.
“Me too,” they murmured.
The dream began to shift — stars spinning, trees fading into mist. Linda’s fingers twitched.
Jay noticed.
They offered their hand, palm up. A question.
She hesitated.
But she reached for them.
Contact.
The dream pulsed. Light and heat surged beneath the moss. And for one breathless second, Linda saw everything — flashes of Jay’s pain, laughter buried in grief, Sabine’s voice echoing like a blade, the ache of never being enough.
Jay flinched. Like they expected her to pull away.
But she didn’t.
She stepped closer.
Their fingers still entwined.
Jay whispered, “This is just a dream, right?”
Linda nodded. “I think so.”
Their eyes dropped to her lips. Just for a second.
We almost kissed.
I think I wanted to.
I think they did too.
She pressed the journal shut and held it to her chest.
The dreams weren’t fading.
And worse — she didn’t want them to.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡
Jay was freaking out.
But, like, quietly. Subtly. Internally combusting while pretending they were normal. (Not that they’d ever been normal.)
They flopped between rooms, collapsed dramatically, stared at the ceiling like it owed them answers.
Because of one dream.
Okay — the dream.
Where Linda touched their hand and leaned in and Jay felt like their ribcage was made of static and longing.
“FUCK!” they shouted, clutching their hair.
Their pillow offered no counsel.
They picked up their phone. Again. Opened Messages. Again.
Still no number for Linda. She probably communicated through enchanted paper or telepathic ravens.
They typed out:
do u think linda dreams abt me too or is that just a me thing.
also what does it mean when someone almost kisses u in dreamspace and ur ribcage is vibrating with gay panic. asking for a friend.
Then deleted it.
Jay flopped face-first into the mattress.
They weren’t even mad about the dream.
They just wanted it back.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡
The dreams didn’t stop.
If anything, they deepened.
Each one peeling something raw open. Each one pulling them closer.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡
A beach. Stars in the tide. Jay barefoot at the shoreline. Linda just behind them.
They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.
Jay turned, and the knot in Linda’s chest loosened.
She reached — didn’t touch.
Jay smiled like it hurt.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡
Ruins. Moss and memory. Jay knelt beside a broken statue, eyes wide and aching.
Linda reached out, just barely.
Jay vanished before she could close the distance.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡
A hallway. Endless doors. Candles and shadow.
Help me, one of them thought.
Linda tried to run to them.
The hall stretched forever.
Jay faded like smoke.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡
One night, they lay side by side beneath an impossible sky. Fingers inching closer.
That time, the emotion wasn’t fear.
It was want.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡
Linda woke up crying once.
She didn’t know why.
It wasn’t hers, maybe.
Maybe it was both of theirs.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡
Jay woke up laughing another night.
Then sobbing.
They couldn’t remember the dream. Just that Linda had smiled.
And it had felt like home.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡
They didn’t talk about it.
Not yet.
But something was building.
Not just dreams.
A pull. A sign.
A call neither of them could ignore much longer.
The universe — or the bond between them — wanted them to meet again.
And soon.
The café was neutral ground.
That’s what Linda had said, voice calm over the crackly call Jay barely remembered agreeing to. A quiet spot halfway between Silverglade and Jarlaheim, tucked away in a mossy corner of Firgrove, just off the tourist paths. A place where a Soul Rider and a Dark Rider could meet without fighting.
Jay got there first — which was impressive, considering they’d spent twenty minutes staring into the mirror whispering “be normal” like a mantra.
They slumped into the far corner, hunched over a mug of lukewarm cider, trying to look casual. Not calm. Not even close. Their knee bounced like it had a mind of its own.
Every time the door jingled, Jay’s heart tried a backflip.
Then Linda walked in — soft sweater, wind-tousled hair, that cautious look like she was already sorting Jay’s soul into neat little boxes.
Jay forgot how to breathe.
“Hi,” Linda said, like this wasn’t the most surreal moment of Jay’s life.
Jay jumped up. “HI. I mean. Hey. Uh. You’re here.”
Linda blinked. “Yes?”
“Cool. Yeah. Great.” Jay cleared their throat and knocked over the sugar jar. “Shit—uh—ignore that—”
Linda sat down slowly, folding her hands like this was a business meeting. She glanced around the café before fixing Jay with a steady look.
Jay was still recovering from the sugar incident.
Linda broke the silence. “So…”
“So,” Jay echoed. “This is weird.”
“Extremely.”
Jay let out a strangled laugh. “Cool. Coolcoolcool.”
Linda arched a brow and looked down at the chipped table edge. “I had another dream.”
“Yeah?” Jay said too fast. “Me too. I mean — not yours. My own. That, uh, you were in. Probably.”
Linda glanced up. “We were on a train. It didn’t go anywhere.”
Jay’s shoulders stiffened. “You were holding my hand.”
Linda nodded. “And then the whole train turned into water.”
Jay exhaled sharply. “Okay, same dream. That’s… fine. Normal.”
Silence.
Jay sipped the cold cider.
Linda stared at the table, fingers twitching before folding tightly.
“This connection,” she said quietly, “it’s getting stronger.”
Jay said nothing. They were busy trying not to melt through the floor.
Linda looked up, searching. “I don’t know what we’re supposed to do.”
Jay buried their face in their hands. “God, kill me.”
Linda made a soft noise—half laugh, half sigh. “Jay.”
Jay peeked through fingers. “Yeah?”
“I… don’t think I hate you.”
Jay’s brain froze. “Oh. Uh. Thanks?”
Linda rolled her eyes. “It’s annoying. This whole… whatever this is. But when I see you in dreams, you’re—”
“Softer?” Jay guessed, grimacing. “Embarrassing?”
Linda snorted. “No. Just… not what I expected.”
Jay stared. “You expected a demon.”
Linda nodded. “Someone who wouldn’t sit with me on a glowing boat made of stars while I cried about the moon.”
“…That happened?”
Linda nodded slowly. “Last week. You wore socks with stars on them.”
Jay blinked. “I don’t even own star socks.”
“You did in the dream.”
They sat quietly, unsure where to go next. The table felt too small for the space between their worlds. Yet they kept leaning in.
Jay cleared their throat. “So. Um. What now?”
Linda hesitated. “I think… we need to figure out if this is just magical interference.”
“And if it’s not?”
“Then we’re in trouble.”
Jay nodded slowly. “Cool. Emotional turmoil. Love that.”
Linda bit her lip. “Maybe we… keep meeting. In person. Monitor it.”
“Sure,” Jay said quickly. “Not like a date or anything.”
“Obviously not.”
They nodded.
Jay glanced away.
Linda toyed with a sugar packet.
Silence.
Then Jay muttered, “…Unless you wanted it to be.”
Linda choked on her tea.
She kept her hands wrapped around the warm mug, gaze steady but tired. “I think we should go to Fort Maria.”
Jay raised an eyebrow, leaning back. “Of course we should.”
Linda blinked. “You’re agreeing?”
Jay sighed, running a hand through their hair. “No, I’m just... used to this. Someone says ‘let’s fix it with books and ghosts,’ and I go along.”
Linda didn’t smile, but a flicker of amusement touched her eyes.
“Do you always run to books when weird stuff happens?”
Linda blinked. “They usually have answers.”
Jay muttered under breath, rubbing neck. “Dusty cryptic tomes. Sounds like a party.”
Linda didn’t rise to sarcasm. She just looked at Jay — steady, tired, maybe uncertain. “You don’t have to come. I can go alone.”
Jay hesitated, shook their head. “No, I’ll go. Just… Fort Maria creeps me out.”
“You broke in before.”
“Yeah, and I regret the smell in the east wing every time I remember it. But if this is real—this bond, or tether—we should figure it out.”
Linda nodded, quiet for a moment. “Right.”
Jay leaned forward, voice low. “But it’s not gonna be like… romantic, right?”
Linda stiffened. “No! I— I don’t know. That’s not— what I’m looking for.”
“Okay.” Jay nodded quickly, eyes on the table. “Good. Cool. Me neither. Obviously.”
A pause.
“Sorry,” Linda said, sounding sincere. “I didn’t ask for this either.”
“I know,” Jay said after a beat. “I’m not blaming you.”
Silence stretched. Not hostile—just full of words neither knew how to say.
Jay cleared throat. “So what, we sneak in? Shadowy side-quest style?”
“It won’t be that dramatic,” Linda said softly. “We just go after dark. I have a key.”
Jay gave a look. “Of course you do.”
Linda stood, tucked a notebook in her bag. “Meet me at the cliffs tonight, by the western wall.”
Jay stood too, hesitant. “You’re really not freaked out?”
Linda hesitated. “I am. But ignoring it won’t help.”
Jay nodded, serious now. “Okay.”
No goodbyes. Just the silence hanging, unspoken.
Jay watched her leave, then sank back, arms on the table.
“…Not gonna be romantic,” they muttered, unconvinced.
After a long moment, they pulled out their phone and typed a message they never sent:
she’s just as confused as i am
but at least she still showed up
Then deleted it.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡
The stone walls of Fort Maria loomed against the night sky—dark, worn, silent except for the hum of residual magic.
Linda waited by the northern gate, coat wrapped tight, arms crossed, checking her watch. Jay was five minutes late.
Of course.
She tried to steady her thoughts, but the dream kept replaying—Jay’s hand in hers, the almost-kiss, the falling sensation.
It left her shaken.
Bootsteps on gravel. Jay emerged from shadow, hands in pockets, hood up, unusually quiet.
Linda nodded. “You’re late.”
Jay shrugged. “Got turned around. I hate this place.”
“No one likes it.” Linda led them inside.
They walked in silence, boots clicking, dust motes drifting through the faint rune glow.
Jay glanced around. “Still creepy.”
“Still full of knowledge,” Linda said.
“Same thing.”
They passed the ancient riders’ mural. Jay paused, staring at a figure with hollowed eyes.
“I never liked these.”
“Why?”
“Story’s already decided who’s good and bad. No in-between.”
Linda’s voice was soft. “Do you think you’re in between?”
Jay didn’t meet her eyes. “No idea. But definitely not on your side.”
The ruined library was next. Linda dove into dusty shelves, searching for anything on dream-links, soul bonds, planar magic. Jay wandered behind her, watching.
“This place remembers everything,” Jay muttered.
“Probably,” Linda said.
Jay leaned on the wall, arms crossed. “And yet you trust it.”
“I trust knowledge,” Linda said. “Even when it hurts.”
Jay said nothing.
Linda found a leather-bound book, humming faintly. She opened it, reading a faded phrase:
twin-threads of fate wound through parallel paths, joined at the root.
Jay leaned in. “Sounds bad.”
“I don’t know yet.” Linda squinted. “Dream-bonds. Shared energy, memories. Gets stronger with interaction—”
“Define ‘interaction.’”
“I’m not guessing.”
Silence.
Pages rustled. Wood creaked.
Linda sat on a broken bench, book on her knees. Jay stayed standing.
“I don’t know what to do,” Linda admitted.
“Me neither. Was hoping you did.”
Linda laughed dryly. “I read books. I don’t solve this.”
Jay’s voice dropped. “But it’s real, right?”
Linda didn’t look up. “Yes.”
Long silence.
Jay looked away. “Doesn’t make it less weird.”
“No,” Linda said quietly. “It doesn’t.”
They sat, book open, pages fluttering like breath.
Linda finally said, “We keep looking. Carefully.”
Jay nodded.
Neither said what they both thought:
The dreams were stronger.
The tether wasn’t loosening.
Next time, they might not wake before something happened.
The candles burned low. Linda’s breath fogged in the cold air. She flipped through a rune-lined journal, pointing to a passage:
Sympathetic convergence: magical resonance between two people. Created by ritual or fate, it can’t be undone without—
Jay leaned over.
“Without what?”
Linda swallowed. “Breaking one of the souls.”
Jay recoiled. “Wow. That’s extreme.”
“We’re not doing that.”
Silence.
Jay thumbed another book. “Found something.”
Linda leaned closer.
Jay cleared throat, reading quietly:
“When a dream-bond forms, it begins subtly—fragments of memory, blurred emotion, shared moments. The connection can evolve, allowing shared dreams and pieces of each other’s past. It may cause involuntary empathy, memory transfer, subconscious mirroring.”
“Some bonds tie to the Mirror Thread, from the First Era when Aideen’s magic was wild. Warriors and spellcasters bound across battle lines—not by choice, but fate. Two halves destined to destroy each other or become something greater.”
Jay paused. “Sounds fake.”
“It’s not.” Linda flipped pages. “Matches the oldest texts here. It’s real. It’s happened before.”
Jay flopped against the wall, groaning. “So history repeating? Two idiots who can’t stay in lanes?”
Linda kept scanning, silent.
Jay stared at the ceiling. “Is there a happy ending, or just doom and magical co-dependence?”
Linda found a margin note—an old first-person account:
“I saw her first in a dream, on the battlefield’s edge. I knew she was the enemy and knew her name. I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have known her grief or how her voice trembled when she lied. But I did.”
“They said it was a curse, that she’d use it to destroy me. For a while, I believed. Until I saw how she looked at me—not with hate, but sorrow. Like she knew she’d lose me before we began.”
“We met once, in secret. Not enough. But it changed everything.”
Linda reread it, breath caught.
Jay was silent.
“What?” they asked.
Linda showed the page.
Jay read it.
“Cool. Cool cool cool. Didn’t want to emotionally unravel tonight, but here we are.”
Linda smiled faintly. “You insisted on coming.”
Jay pointed at the book. “Emotional sabotage, and you know it.”
Linda didn’t answer, didn’t close the book.
Outside, the wind whispered through broken windows. Fort Maria seemed alive with them.
Jay stared, jaw clenched, brow furrowed—trying not to feel.
Linda’s fingers hovered on the page, afraid to touch.
Outside, the storm eased to steady wind.
Inside, silence stretched.
Long moment.
Then Linda looked up.
Jay did too.
They stared.
Not a glance, not awkward fidgeting.
Just—looking.
The air between them thick, charged. Something fragile, shimmering—understanding, fear, a flicker of what if.
Jay’s breath hitched.
Linda’s chest ached.
Their faces were close. Close enough to see freckles scattered across Jay’s nose, lips parted as if to speak. Close enough to see the rune-marked tension in Linda’s hands gripping the book.
For a second, neither breathed.
Then—
Jay blinked. “Okay—nope. Nope nope nope.”
They jumped up, chair scraping harshly.
Linda jolted back. “Right. Yes. We should—um—”
“Leave,” Jay said, voice weirdly high. “Yes. Immediately. Great idea.”
Linda stacked books fast, avoiding Jay’s eyes. “We can come back tomorrow. Or never.”
Jay backed toward the exit, hands shoved deep. “Yep. Tomorrow. Maybe. I might spontaneously combust first.”
ok im not back completely but i am doing much better so here is another chapter of my beloved jaylinda for you to eat. also keeper/druids/soul riders = witches idc idc
"paige... you said you'd upload that sabine smut".... oopsie. im still working on it </3 it will be next trustttt trust me
wc: 4.8k
Chapter Two: Moonlight Doesn't Lie
The dream came differently this time.
No crashing waves. No burning runes or cryptic whispers. Just light — silver and cool, falling in gentle sheets across a forest of trees that didn’t exist anywhere in the real world. They swayed like they were listening.
Linda stood barefoot on moss, soft and dewy beneath her toes. The trees hummed softly — not a sound exactly, more like a feeling. A resonance in her ribs. And ahead, between the shifting trunks and thin, gleaming streams of starlight, was them.
Jay.
Not cloaked in chaos this time. No smoke. No dramatic entrance. Just standing there, waiting, hands in their pockets, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
Linda didn’t move at first.
Neither did they.
Then, slowly, Jay extended a hand.
Linda’s breath hitched — even in sleep — but she stepped forward. Just once. Just enough to see the expression on Jay’s face. For all their usual arrogance and bravado, this version of them… looked quiet. Uncertain.
Their eyes met, and something inside Linda shifted — deep and tectonic. She wasn’t sure if it was fear or recognition.
"You always look at me like that," Jay said, voice barely above a whisper. “Like you want to figure me out.”
Linda’s mouth felt like it was filled with stardust. “Maybe I do.”
Jay tilted their head. “And if you don’t like what you find?”
“I already don’t,” Linda said automatically.
But even as she said it, her hand drifted forward. Not touching — just hovering near Jay’s. So close. Almost…
“You don’t scare me,” she added, quieter this time.
Jay smiled — not their usual smirk, but something real. Sad. Tired.
“I don’t want to be scary.”
The dream began to shift, like a watercolor left out in the rain. The trees melted into shadow. The ground cracked underfoot, revealing constellations beneath it — spinning galaxies and lines of power pulsing like veins. Jay began to fade, the edges of their body coming undone, pixel by pixel.
“Wait—!” Linda surged forward, grabbed their wrist—
And gasped.
Contact.
A jolt like lightning. Not pain — recognition. A feeling of having held this before, maybe in another life, maybe in every dream before this one.
And suddenly she could see more than just Jay’s face.
Flashes.
A child standing alone in the ruins of a dark place.
Laughter choked by smoke.
A hand extended and no one taking it.
Sabine, laughing cruelly.
Jay’s face, bloodied, wide-eyed. Terrified. Alone.
“Linda—” they whispered, and it wasn’t with malice.
It was with fear.
The dream fractured like glass, spiraling outward, everything spinning—
—
Linda shot up in bed, breath ragged, chest heaving.
Her sheets were tangled. Her arms clammy. Her entire body buzzed with leftover energy — the echo of that vision still racing through her like a pulse of pure magic.
Her fingers twitched. She could still feel the ghost of Jay’s hand in hers.
She shoved the blankets off and swung her legs over the side of the bed, gripping the edge of the mattress like she might fall through the floor if she let go.
Was it really just a dream?
Or was the thread between them finally tightening?
She opened the dream journal. Her hands were shaking. The ink smeared as she wrote.
“This wasn’t a vision.
This was a memory.
But not mine.”
She couldn’t tell anyone. Surely this was some kind of Soul Rider sin. The cardinal rule was to defeat the Dark Riders, not… connect with them. Not feel for them.
So why did she want to find Jay and hug them?
It felt wrong. Like she was dirty for wanting to be kind to them. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t hate Jay.
The others, maybe. But not them.
She needed to find Jay.
If those books she had found were real — if they were right about the dream realms, about spiritual convergence — then she was seriously screwed.
What would the Keepers say?
She could already see Elizabeth’s disappointed face. Not angry. Worse — sad. The kind of sadness that said I expected more from you.
But she hadn’t meant to bind with a Dark Rider. She had barely even spoken to Jay outside of a few sharp or random exchanges. Surely they’d understand. Surely it was an accident.
Wasn’t it?
Maybe she could sever it.
She crossed the room and threw back the covers on the stack of books she’d taken from Fort Maria two nights ago. Forbidden texts, half-destroyed field notes, records the Keepers had locked away.
She clicked on the lamp and sat down, light spilling across yellowed pages and curling ink. Her fingers shuffled through spines and torn covers, flipping until she found it — a worn book bound in cracked leather. One she hadn’t dared open until now.
The title read:
The Astral Thread: Bonds of the Dreaming World.
Linda sucked in a breath.
She cracked it open.
The first page was handwritten. Not in ink, but in something faintly glowing — like light burned into paper.
“When the thread is forged in dreams, it cannot be undone in waking.”
“To dream of another is to touch them. To touch them is to know them. And to know them is to risk becoming like them.”
“Threaded souls resist separation. Even across planes. Even across sides.”
Linda stared.
The thread wasn’t metaphorical.
It was real.
And hers was tangled with Jay’s.
She flipped through feverishly, searching for anything on severing. Anything to stop this before it got worse.
But page after page, she found no instructions on how to break the thread. Just warnings.
“A tether formed unintentionally is still a tether.”
“And if one soul falls into shadow… the other may follow.”
Linda’s hands trembled harder.
She slammed the book shut, chest rising and falling fast.
She should burn it.
She should tell the Keepers.
She should run.
Instead, she whispered:
“…Jay. What are you?”
And why do I still want to see you again?
Linda didn’t sleep again that night.
She tried. She curled under the covers, closed her eyes, counted runes backwards, whispered old Keepers’ mantras under her breath — but none of it helped. Every time she drifted, she felt the hum of that dream again. Jay’s voice. That flicker of memory that wasn’t hers.
By morning, she was a ghost of herself — pale, exhausted, her magic humming just beneath her skin like it wanted out. Like it was listening too.
At breakfast with the soul riders, she sat in silence while the others talked around her. Alex was ranting about a weird Shadow Rider sighting near Firgrove. Anne made a snide comment about how the Keepers were “probably too busy babysitting druids to care.” Linda didn't respond. She stirred her tea until it went cold.
“Hey.” Lisa nudged her with the edge of a spoon. “You good?”
“Didn’t sleep well,” Linda murmured, eyes still on the table.
She felt Lisa watching her for a moment too long, but no one pushed. They’d all been having nightmares lately. Everyone was stretched thin. Linda just looked like one more frayed thread in a tapestry that was unraveling.
After breakfast, she slipped away.
She didn’t go to the stables. Didn’t go to the library. She went instead to the old ruins behind Elizabeth’s house — the overgrown clearing with the moss-covered stone arch, where the veil between realms felt thinner than anywhere else in Jorvik. A place where dreams sometimes bled into reality.
She knelt there in the grass and pulled the leather-bound book from under her coat.
The Astral Thread.
She opened to the marked page and traced the glowing script with a finger. The words pulsed faintly under her touch, like a heartbeat.
“To strengthen a thread: mirror the dream. Repeat it. Return to it. Learn the shape of it until it becomes shared.”
Linda’s brows drew together.
She could feel the thread strengthening already — and she hadn’t tried to return. Hadn’t meant to want to. But something deep in her chest ached when she thought of Jay fading away like that. Of the terror in their eyes. The way they whispered her name like it meant something.
“Ugh,” she muttered, rubbing her hands over her face. “What am I doing?”
She should destroy the book. Cut the thread. Bury this whole thing before it got worse.
Instead, she flipped further.
There were diagrams now. Symbols from old druidic texts, annotations in different handwritings — one sharp and precise, another barely legible, like the writer had been shaking. Linda scanned the margins until her gaze caught on a passage half-burned into the parchment:
“If the thread is shared willingly… it opens a gate.”
A gate to what?
To memory?
To power?
To something older?
Linda closed the book with a snap and looked around the clearing.
The trees were quiet. The stones were still. But she could feel it — faint, just under the surface. A pull. A beckoning.
Not from Jorvik.
From them.
Jay.
She stood.
If this was going to get worse, she needed control. She couldn’t afford to stumble through dreams anymore. She needed to enter them. On purpose. Guided.
Which meant a ritual.
Which meant supplies. Time. Focus.
And secrecy.
Because if the others found out…
She didn’t finish that thought.
Instead, she turned and started down the hill toward Avalons soul rider supply vault. There were herbs to gather. Sigils to carve. A spell to cast.
And a thread to follow.
Linda waited until twilight.
She spent the day hidden in the vault, gathering everything she’d need. Not from main shelves — too obvious. Too traceable. She went deeper. Deep in the vault, were no one else went.
There, she found what she needed: dried moonwort, a sliver of shadowglass, a rune etched in obsidian and buried under pages about realmwalking. She even found an old pendant she didn’t remember ever seeing before — tarnished silver, but warm to the touch. Like it had been waiting for her.
She whispered the incantation under her breath as she worked. Not because the spell required it — but because the silence felt too heavy otherwise.
By the time night fell, she was ready.
Back in the clearing, she drew a circle with ash and crushed lavender. Laid out the relics at each compass point. Lit a candle at the center and pressed her palm to the rune stone she’d found once all the way in Fort Maria. It had cracked during the escape — but the magic inside was still alive. Waiting.
She exhaled slowly.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Take me to the thread.”
And then she closed her eyes.
The world blurred. Tilted. Her body stayed behind, crumpling softly to the ground — but her mind was already falling forward, through layers of mist and time and memory.
And then —
Light.
Not the soft silver glow from before. This was harsher. Gritty. Real.
She was standing in a cramped apartment. Not a dream. Not quite a memory. Something in-between.
The air smelled like burnt coffee and old magic. There were plants on the windowsill — most of them half-dead — and a cracked mirror by the door. The floor creaked when Linda stepped.
Jay’s coat was slung over the back of a chair.
A half-eaten sandwich sat on the counter.
A crumpled sketch lay discarded on the floor. A face. Linda’s. Half-finished. Ink smeared like someone had given up halfway through.
Her heart skipped.
Then movement — just out of frame. In the hallway.
She turned just in time to see a blur of dark hair and a too-familiar silhouette pull on boots, muttering curses under their breath.
Jay.
They were here. Somewhere in the real world. And now Linda knew where.
She didn’t know how — whether the spell had anchored her to their realm, or if this was a side effect of the thread tightening — but she could see the street signs outside the window.
Jarlaheim.
Linda’s eyes flew open, breath catching as she slammed back into her body.
The clearing was dark. Her candle had gone out. The rune stone was still glowing faintly.
She sat up, heart hammering, the image of Jay’s apartment burned into her mind. It wasn’t a vision anymore. It wasn’t theoretical.
It was a location.
They were real. Vulnerable. Reachable.
And she was going.
To what end, she wasn’t sure. Confrontation? Answers? Closure?
But something in her gut told her: this wasn’t just about Jay anymore.
This was about the line between dark and light, and what it meant when that line began to blur.
Linda stood, packed the tools of her ritual into her bag, and turned toward the woods.
The stars overhead whispered warnings she didn’t have time to hear.
Linda mounted Meteor and galloped hard for Jarlaheim, the wind ripping past her face as the forest blurred into streaks of green and gold. Her thoughts refused to settle. Jay’s image flashed through her mind again and again — not fully formed, just pieces. A hand, a sliver of their jawline, the haunted look in their eyes right before the dream broke apart.
She slowed when the city walls came into view, her heart hammering in her chest. The apartment from her vision had been in one of the older brick buildings, the ones nestled on Jarlaheim’s north side — the kind that looked like they could crumble under too much magic.
She tied up Meteor near her own house and walked the rest of the way, weaving through the evening crowd, slipping between shadows.
The buildings all looked the same.
She paused at the corner of a narrow street, closed her eyes, and tried to pull the number from the haze of her mind.
204? …402?
Everything was jumbled. But 204 felt right.
She climbed the narrow staircase in the alley, counting the numbers carved into the rusting doorframes until she reached it.
204.
Linda took a breath. Knocked.
And stepped back.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡
Inside, Jay’s voice rang out muffled but annoyed:
“Sabine, get the door! It’s your fucking turn!”
Sabine scowled, slamming her fork into the half-eaten mac and cheese before storming over to the door. She yanked it open with all the grace of a stormcloud.
When she saw Linda, she blinked — then sneered.
“The fuck are you doing here, Soul Rider?” she muttered, crossing her arms, muscles flexing with threat.
Linda stiffened. “Uh… is Jay here?”
Sabine rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh. “Why the fuck do you wanna know? I could snap you in half for trespassing, and I’m not even on Dark Core duty right now—”
“Sabine!” Jay’s voice cracked through the hallway as they came into view, pushing past her with a swat at her arm. “Back off.”
Sabine growled under her breath but turned away, muttering something about “idiots” and “mac and cheese being ruined.”
Now it was just Jay in the doorway.
Hair mussed. Hoodie half-zipped. Eyes wide with… something like panic.
“Uh… hey, Linda,” they said, voice awkward. “Whatcha… doing here?”
Linda stared at them. Her heartbeat was thunder in her ears.
“We need to talk, Jay.”
Jay glanced over their shoulder, then back at her. “…About what?”
“You,” Linda said quietly. “And whatever the hell’s happening to me.”
Jay swallowed. Their usual bravado was gone, stripped raw by the suddenness of it all.
“Okay,” they said finally, stepping aside.
“Come in.”
Jay stepped aside and made a vague, dramatic sweeping gesture. “Welcome to, uh… hell.”
Linda walked in cautiously, scanning the apartment like she was expecting something to jump out and bite her. The place was dim, lit mostly by the eerie glow of a lava lamp and a hallway light that flickered ominously. The couch looked like it had been rescued from a crime scene. A mysterious sock hung from the ceiling fan.
“…Is that mine?” Jay mumbled under their breath, squinting at it.
Linda didn’t respond. She just sat on the edge of the couch with her back very straight, like she thought the cushions might devour her if she relaxed too much.
Jay hovered by the wall like a nervous bat. “Sooo. You said we needed to talk. You’re not here to arrest me, right? I left my villain monologue upstairs. Sabine keeps editing it.”
Linda gave them a flat look. “Jay.”
“Sorry. Nervous. You’re very… intense.”
“You talk too much.”
“Yeah, I know.”
A heavy silence settled between them. Jay picked at the sleeve of their hoodie. Linda folded her arms.
Then—
“I’ve been having dreams about you,” Linda blurted.
Jay’s face did something truly alarming. “I—what.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she added quickly, cheeks flushing. “Not—not those kinds of dreams.”
“Right, no, of course,” Jay said, nodding so fast they looked like they might give themselves whiplash. “Because, uh, obviously. That would be—y’know. Weird. And illegal. I think? Is it illegal? There’s probably some sort of magic law—”
“Jay.”
“Right, sorry. Shutting up.”
Linda exhaled sharply, trying to find her footing. “The dreams aren’t… normal. I’m seeing pieces of your life. Real ones. Memories. Emotions. Like I’m in them. I think there’s a bond forming.”
Jay blinked at her. “Like… a magical trauma bond? Is that a thing? Do we need a wizard therapist?”
“I did a ritual,” Linda said instead.
“You did a ritual on me?” Jay sounded half offended, half delighted. “What, like—‘Oh no, I’m dream-stalking a chaotic disaster, better get the salt and Latin out’?”
“Jay.”
“No, it’s fine! I just love being someone’s magical problem.”
Linda closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath. “This bond — or whatever it is — it’s not natural. I think it formed during some kind of vision surges. I don't know how it happened. Or when, even. Or if part of you is like connected to a part of me.”
Jay looked like they wanted to melt into the couch and disappear. “Great. Love that. Really cool to know that my soul is just—y’know—out there. Vibes-ing into people’s dreams. Super chill.”
Linda’s voice softened, just a little. “I saw you as a kid.”
Jay froze.
“In the ruins. Alone. Scared. Reaching for someone. No one was there.”
Jay looked away, jaw tight. “Cool. Glad that’s making the rounds.”
“I felt it,” Linda said. “Like it happened to me.”
Jay’s voice was small now. “Did you feel the part where I got yelled at for crying? Or the part where I almost burned down the training hall? Or just the fun ‘haunted orphan’ montage?”
“It’s not fun.”
“No,” Jay said. “It’s not.”
The silence between them thickened again. Not angry — just full of things they didn’t know how to say.
Jay glanced at her, trying for a grin and failing spectacularly. “So… what now? You gonna soul-snuff me? Hit me with some ancient anti-connection spell? Dump me in a rune pit?”
Linda looked down at her hands. “I thought I wanted to. I even looked up ways to sever it.”
Jay laughed nervously. “And?”
“I didn’t do it.”
Their eyes met.
“Why not?” Jay asked, quieter now.
Linda hesitated. “Because I don’t think it’s hurting me.”
Jay opened their mouth, then closed it again. Then opened it again. “Okay, but like… are you sure? I have a bad track record, and this whole ‘mysterious psychic bond’ thing feels very ‘season finale betrayal’ to me.”
Linda stood abruptly. “I’m not asking you to change sides.”
Jay scrambled up too, nearly tripping on a pile of socks. “I’m not even sure what side I’m on!”
Linda stared at them. “I just want to understand. You. This.”
Jay looked like they were buffering. “Me? Why me?”
Then: “Okay. Okay. Um. Do you—do you wanna see where I used to go? When I wanted to disappear? It’s stupid. It’s a rooftop. But it was mine. Kinda.”
Linda blinked. “…Okay.”
“Okay?” Jay repeated, like they didn’t believe it.
“Okay.”
Jay blinked. “Okay.”
Linda picked up her coat. “You’re going to keep saying ‘okay,’ aren’t you.”
“Okay—wait. No. I mean—uh. Yes. I mean—let’s just go.”
Linda sighed and walked to the door.
Behind her, Jay tripped over a laundry basket and nearly fell trying to look cool.
She didn’t laugh.
But she did let her shoulder brush against theirs as they stepped into the hall.
Just slightly.
The staircase groaned under their weight, the rusted metal echoing every step like a warning. Jay bounded ahead, taking two stairs at a time, probably to avoid having to talk. Linda followed at a slower pace, arms crossed, eyes trailing over the dim corridors and peeling walls. She was starting to wonder if this was a mistake.
Then Jay pushed open the rooftop door, and suddenly the world stretched open.
The air was cool and damp with fog, and the city lights below cast long shadows over cracked concrete and old tar patches. Someone had dragged an old milk crate and a lawn chair up here at some point, and Jay flopped into the latter with a sigh like they'd just come home.
Linda stood near the edge, staring out. The harbor shimmered in the distance like a spilled secret. Above them, the stars were faint but present, trying their best.
“This is… surprisingly peaceful,” Linda said after a moment.
Jay tilted their head back to look at her, arms draped loosely over the chair’s sides. “Told you. My one good decision. Hideout-slash-panic zone-slash... weird rooftop therapy space.”
Linda smirked faintly. “Does it work?”
Jay shrugged. “Sometimes. Sabine doesn’t come up here, so that helps. And the stars don’t judge me.”
They were quiet again.
Then—
“I used to come up here a lot,” Jay said softly. “After missions. Or when the yelling got too much. I’d just… sit. Sometimes I pretended I was on another planet. That I’d wake up somewhere else.”
Linda turned to look at them. “You could have had something else. Something better.”
Jay gave her a look, sharp and a little tired. “Yeah. Well. We don’t all get chosen by glowy horses and magical destiny cults.”
“That’s not what the Keepers are.”
Jay raised a brow. “Isn’t it?”
Linda didn’t have a comeback.
Instead, she sat on the edge of the roof, legs dangling over the side, her hair catching the breeze. Jay watched her warily.
“So,” they said after a while, “what do we do about this bond thing? Am I going to keep showing up in your dreams, or…?”
“I don’t know,” Linda admitted. “But I think the more we’re around each other, the stronger it gets.”
Jay paled. “That sounds like a threat.”
“It’s not.”
“It feels like one.”
She gave them a tired look. “It’s not like I planned this.”
“I know,” Jay said, picking at the frayed hem of their sleeve. “It’s just. You know. You’re you. And I’m… me. And usually when people get tangled up with me, bad things happen. Sabine says I’m like… emotionally contagious.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“It is if you’re me.”
Linda turned to look at them. “You’re not a curse, Jay.”
Jay snorted. “Tell that to the last five people who trusted me. Spoiler: none of them are around anymore.”
Linda was quiet for a beat. Then: “I’m here.”
Jay looked at her.
“Why?” they asked. “Why bother?”
Linda’s voice was low. “Because when I touched your wrist in that dream, I saw something real. Not the chaos. Not the show you put on. Just you. And for some reason… I couldn’t look away.”
Jay blinked. Several times. “Oh.”
They sat in the silence that followed, thick and breathless.
Then Jay said, very seriously: “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to jump off a roof more, and not in the suicidal way, just in the ‘this is emotionally compromising’ way.”
Linda smirked.
Jay leaned back in their chair, throwing an arm over their face. “I’m gonna say something I’ll regret. I can feel it. It’s in the air.”
Linda didn’t say anything.
But she was still sitting next to them when the sun began to rise.
Jay peeked between their fingers, still hiding behind their own arm. “So. Uh. What now?”
Linda raised a brow. “You mean besides watching you dramatically implode?”
“Rude,” Jay muttered. “Also fair.”
They dropped their arm with a sigh, sitting upright again. “But seriously. You said this wasn’t just a dream. You think it’s some kind of magical connection thing, like... spiritual voicemail?”
Linda hesitated. “More like... a tether or a thread. Between our souls.”
Jay made a face. “Ugh, okay. No. You can’t say soul tether and expect me not to spontaneously combust. That’s disgusting. Ew.”
“Jay.”
“I mean, do you want me to die of cringe? Is that your actual plan?”
Linda rolled her eyes. “Jay.”
Jay groaned, scrubbing their hands over their face. “Okay, okay. Serious mode. Magic bond. Dreams. Flashes of my very fun tragic backstory. You showing up at my front door like a judgmental library ghost. Got it. What do we do with that?”
“I don’t know,” Linda admitted. “But I think... we need to figure out how deep this goes. If it’s just dreams, or if it’s more. If it’s dangerous.”
Jay blinked at her. “Dangerous how?”
“Like... if you’re hurting, I feel it. If I’m in danger, maybe you dream about it. I don’t know. It’s like the more I saw in that vision, the more I could feel what you were feeling. I shouldn’t be able to do that.”
Jay looked mildly horrified. “Cool. So now my emotional trauma is... shared property. That’s awesome. Love that.”
Linda snorted. “It’s not exactly fun for me either.”
Jay gave her a wary look. “So. Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say we’re stuck in this... cosmic sleepover situation. What does that mean for you? Your little sunshine-and-rainbows squad isn’t going to be thrilled that you’re psychically linked to the enemy.”
“I know,” she hissed. “But what am I supposed to say? ‘Hi, I think I accidentally soul-bonded with a Dark Rider I barely know because I like touched their trauma in a dream and now I’m worried they’re emotionally bleeding into my headspace?’ That’s not a great look.”
Jay blinked. “Okay. You are a judgmental library ghost. But like, hot.”
Linda gave them a withering look.
Jay held up their hands. “Sorry, sorry, it’s a reflex. I get uncomfortable, I flirt badly. It’s a disease.”
Linda ignored that. “I’m going to keep researching. There might be something in the old texts that can explain this. Maybe even a way to harmlessly sever the connection if we need to.”
Jay’s face fell slightly. “Right. Sever it. Of course.”
There was a beat of silence.
Linda looked over, frowning. “What?”
Jay gave a noncommittal shrug, looking out at the lights. “Nothing. Just... weird. That’s all. I don’t really... connect to people. Like, ever. And now the universe hands me one, and it’s you.”
Linda’s voice was soft. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing,” Jay said too fast. Then added, “Which is exactly the problem.”
Linda looked down at her hands, picking at the seam of her sleeve. “We don’t have to sever it. Not yet. Let’s just... figure out what this is. Together. Carefully.”
Jay stared at her. Their voice was quiet, uncertain. “But it’s not gonna be like... romantic, right?”
Linda’s head snapped up. “No! I mean—I don’t know.” She immediately flushed. “It’s not like I planned any of this.”
Jay looked mortified. “Okay good. Cool. Yeah. Because that would be... insane. Obviously. Like... insane in a bad way. Like soap opera insane.”
Linda nodded rapidly. “Exactly. Completely unhinged.”
Another beat of silence.
Jay gave her a sideways glance. “But also... if it were... that wouldn’t be the worst—”
“Don’t,” Linda warned, holding up a hand.
Jay mimed zipping their lips.
They sat in that awkward, toe-curling silence for a long stretch of time before Linda finally murmured, “We’re not good at this.”
“Yeah,” Jay agreed. “But we’re both weirdly committed to the bit.”
“Unfortunately.”
Jay cracked a grin. “You like me.”
Linda sighed. “Not really.”
Jay made a small, strangled noise and immediately stood up, pacing the roof in circles. “Okay. Okay. This is fine. Totally normal. Just... forging a tentative magical trust pact with a Soul Rider while my emotional walls crumble like overcooked noodles. Everything’s fine.”
Linda laughed—actually laughed. “You’re so dramatic.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I didn’t.”
They stayed like that a while longer — pacing, sitting, watching the stars come and go behind clouds. And when Linda finally left, hours later, Jay stood on the roof until the sun crept up over the horizon.
They didn’t know what they were doing.
But for once, they weren’t entirely afraid to find out.
