blaseball players of your choice + I want to be grateful but I’m having a hard time with it
released jaylen au! this one’s kinda miserable
Allie has had years to learn how to read Jaylen’s body language. Crossing her arms this way means she’s pissed but trying to reign it in; this raise of the eyebrows combined with a certain set to her mouth means she’s trying not to laugh but will probably crack within thirty seconds. The way she’s laying now, next to Allie on the bed but not touching him, turned away and curled in on herself, feigning sleep with her head buried in a pillow but far too stiff to actually be anything but awake, means she needs to talk through something, but needs to be the one to bring it up. Allie asking what’s wrong will make her clam up.
Allie doesn’t need to ask, really. He knows how Jaylen feels about no longer being able to play, even if her frustration has been expressed largely through action rather than words. Cutting off her hair while Allie was playing his first game of the season. Refusing every invitation to come along to away games, or to come watch home games; a hand outstretched with full knowledge it would be rejected. Throwing herself into helping with the animals on the ranch; refusing to touch her guitar or anything else that had once brought her happiness. It’s been two months playing under a new sun and its mirror black hole, but Jaylen’s mind is clouded with eclipses.
Jaylen speaks after a while, but her words are mumbled into the pillow; all Allie catches is “happy,” trailing at the end of whatever she’d tried to say.
“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”
Jaylen doesn’t turn to face Allie, but she does turn to lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Allie doesn’t reach out to touch her, no matter how much he wants to.
“I should be happy,” Jaylen says, sounding the furthest from it possible.
Allie hums, not an agreement but a please continue, and Jaylen does. “I mean, it’s not like I even liked playing anymore, most of the time? Not like I did when we started.” She sighs, loud, dramatic. It’s deafening in the quiet of their room, only the insects chirping outside helping to dull the sharpness of Jaylen’s breath, Jaylen’s voice. “And I’m safe now. Whatever the fuck that means. So I should be happy.”
There’s so much Allie wants to say. That there’s no one way Jaylen’s supposed to feel about any of this. That it’s okay if things are complicated; he knows she doesn’t do well with feelings that blur, prefers everything clear-cut and easy to decipher, but there’s no way in hell to make this simple. He wants to say that he’s happy that she’s safe. Maybe that’s selfish. Maybe he’s earned a little selfishness.
Instead, he puts a hand palm-up in the space between them. Jaylen’s hand joins his almost immediately; she holds on like a lifeline, tight enough that he can feel her pulse in her wrist. “You don’t have to be,” he says.
“I want to — no, fuck, that’s not it —” she cuts off, searching for the words. When she speaks again a moment later, it’s slower, every syllable considered. “I don’t think I remember how to be. And that’s not — it wasn’t a problem, with a distraction, with the splort, but, now, I —”
Don’t want to live like this forever. Left unspoken, but easy enough to fill in. It makes Allie’s heart ache.
“I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.” Jaylen’s voice breaks, grief spilling through the cracks.
Allie can’t just lay there.
“C’mere,” he says gently. Jaylen shifts in the bed, lets Allie wrap his arms around her and lays her head on his chest. “What we do now is go to sleep. And we’ll wake up tomorrow, and feed the animals, and you’ll watch PJ while I’m at the stadium, and then we’ll make dinner together when I get home. And we’ll figure out the rest from there.” He refuses to say anything cheesy about taking it one day at a time, but he hopes the point comes across anyways.
Jaylen nods against his chest, curls up closer to him. “Love you, Al,” she says, almost too quiet to hear.
“Love you, too,” he whispers. Anything louder would break the fragile peace they’ve created. “Get some rest, Jay,” he says, but she’s already asleep.
