Statement 02.
Pairing(s): Jonathan/Sam
A/N: This is a sequel to this, however this fic can also be read on its own with little trouble!
Word count: 1,251
Reblogs appreciated :3
"End recording," Jon finished, clicking the recorder off. He grumbled lowly, a frustrated glint in his eyes under dark, furrowed brows.
"Um."
Jon swiveled to meet the archive's local ghost - more importantly, his friend (although he would be hard pressed to deny that there was something more there, he'd let them approach him first, lest the spirit feel overwhelmed or anxious). The ghost exited the floor at his gaze - had she been hiding? "Are..." he glanced over her normally indigo form, now covered in an icy blue color. "Are you quite alright?"
"The sky ate him?!" Oh, she had listened to his recording. He hadn't given it much thought, save for frustration of yet another far fetched tale with little follow through investigation-wise. 'But,' he thought as Sam's form began to produce actual ice, 'It seems as though it's affected her rather harshly.'
Jon stood and, hesitating only a second, placed his hand on her shoulder. Despite appearances, it didn't send a chill up his arm - rather, he noted, she felt oddly warm, the only indicator of the ice's present being a strange, fuzzy sensation where it met his hand. His gaze fell on her - rather striking, he thought - eyes, both of which had changed from her usual pinks or blues to a sharp yellow, and which seemed to fall on anywhere but him.
"S-sorry," she mumbled. "I - uhm, you probably think this is - is silly."
"Your feelings are never silly," he said quietly, his words said on instinct but sincere nonetheless. "It's alright to be afraid of a story likely written to be frightening, Sam."
"I - I know," she said. "It's just - uh, um." She stared down at her hands in frustration. "It's hard to - to explain."
He moved his hand from her shoulder to her cheek - noticing with some degree of marvel that her shoulder now bore a bright pink handprint. "You can talk to me about anything you're struggling with, you know." Their form began to produce odd, floating heart shapes that floated upward and seemingly disappeared, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward at the strange, but no less endearing sight that he just wasn't quite used to yet.
Jon took her hand, gently leading her to a few older office chairs that sat unused - although before he had gotten there they had functioned more as a makeshift table for unstored statements and books. "Here," he said, letting their hand fall. "What has you bothered? Normally you find these statements rather... funny, if anything." At least, that's what he had gathered from her tendency to distract him while recording or make fun of the original statement givers themselves.
They looked at their free hand with something that could be disappointment before shaking their head and looking at him. "Um-m, so... for uh, context," she started, taking a pause almost long enough for Jon to remind her that she didn't need to talk about it if she wasn't ready. "When I first got - like this," she gestured towards herself, "It was all new - o-obviously," she said, laughing a little in a way that lacked their normal cheer. "Most of it was fine, a-actually, just. Weird, I guess. There was, um. One of the new... things I had to get used to was the whole floating shtick.
"It's hard to- to describe what it was like. It felt- it was natural, but it didn't feel that way, you know?" Jon didn't, but he nodded at her to continue. "It was like I suddenly had an extra limb; instinctively I could control it just fine, pretty well actually, but it was still new, and thinking about it for any period of time felt- it felt wrong, and bad, and very, very scary." She sank further into her chair, and instinctively Jon reached out and held her hand in his. "Um... so, what this has to do with- with that story, is, uh," they paused, struggling with words. "So, you know- how that whole... thing ended basically with that guy getting- getting swallowed, I guess, by the," she looked away, "Oh this sounds so ridiculous - by the sky itself?"
"Continue," he hummed, running a thumb over her fingers. They squeaked - oh, that was cute - but obliged.
"Uh, okay, so," she stumbled, apparently distracted. She took a breath. "So like, it wasn't - it wasn't easy, per se, to keep myself on the ground. I could, don't get me wrong, but it was just - everytime I looked up at the sky, it felt like it didn't matter how 'good' I was at staying- at keeping myself steady. It felt more like- like," she shuddered, "Like it was, inevitable, I guess? Like if I kept looking at it for too long, or even just staying under it, I'd eventually just start to- start to fall in," they shook a little again, and, despite bashfully looking away, linked her fingers in his.
Jon tightened his hold, raising his other hand to cup her head. He wasn't normally one for more physical comfort, but it seemed different with Sam. He hesitated, a little unsure, but spoke softly anyways. "It's alright to be afraid. You can take as much time as you need, Sam." She blushed a little at this, and Jon found he liked the color rather much. "Your fears are well within reason. Unlike," he continued, a lighter tone creeping into his voice, "the earlier statement of Ms. Kelly. Just because one is good at spinning a horror story doesn't mean it's true in the slightest," Jon said, accentuating his point with a light tap to Sam's nose.
She giggled, leaning into the hand still pressed against her head. "What, you don't believe her?" Jon watched as strands of her hair, ethereal as the rest of her it seemed, came apart to wrap around his fingers.
"Perhaps I don't believe the story with no evidence or follow through, hmm? There's nothing exactly rational about it."
"I love how you're dissing this story for 'being irrational' in front of a ghost."
"You're perfectly rational," he said, lifting his free hand to catch one of the strange, floating heart shapes before it could disappear. "Although I have been wondering what these are," he mused, the substance evaporating in his hand with a slight fuzzy sensation.
"I - er, that's um," she spluttered. "They're, uh..."
"They look like hearts."
Sam huffed, untangling his hand from their hair and promptly began to float. "I don't have to deal with- with these blatant falsehoods."
Jon's mouth twitched into a small smile. "I'm only pointing out the shape."
"I'm leaving, actually."
"Sam."
"The archives are overrated. Their archivist is- clearly uh. Lying."
"Sam."
"Lying to their local ghost, can you believe that?"
"Sam," he said, lightly taking her hand. "Look at me."
She huffed again, blushing, but obliged. Sort of - she was facing him, but seemed too flustered to look at him directly. That was fine too. "How long has it been since you've seen the sun?"
"...Few months."
Jon hummed in acknowledgement. "I'm quite certain that's an unhealthy length of time, living or otherwise. I'll find somewhere quiet to bring you." He lightly tucked a strand of hair behind Sam's ear, marveling at the flush of pink on indigo. "Don't be worried about straying off. If anything happens, I'll be right there to hold onto you, okay?"
"Oh, um-" she smiled, looking away from him but placing her hand over his all the same. "Okay."
