she’s not supposed to get attached to people. she’s the asshole on the periphery; never liked and never liking, temporary wherever she goes until she pisses someone off enough that she has to leave.
but it’s been different with them...
maybe because they’re all assholes in some way. or maybe... maybe because they’re all really so fucking good.
she likes them too. loves them. loves him.
her brother- the one she never had, and one her parents would never want which only makes her like him more. real family.
the empire kids. broken and fucked up and shitty people but god they’re both trying to be better. and fuck if they aren’t succeeding. especially him.
she remembers when she first met him and how he carried a death wish like chains around his throat. and she remembers their conversation- just a few days ago- sitting at the bar even as the others all filed off to bed and he told her in that quiet, starkly raw way he has that he’s glad to be alive. and she told him she’s glad he’s finally ready to stick around.
the irony makes her hands ball in fists so tight her knuckles go numb.
when he wanted to die he was always so fucking careful in battle, but now that he’s living, wanting to live, he throws himself in like he’s not made of fucking paper.
he saves her. and she fucking hates him for it.
she drags him out, limbs aching, brow bleeding into her eyes until she can’t even see. she drags him out and keeps going until her strength gives and she collapses.
she can hear her own voice, ragged and screaming for jester, for caduceus, until they finally find her.
she meets jester’s eyes and she can see the tears there, the hopelessness, the helplessness, and she doesn’t understand.
“ fucking heal him! what the fuck are you doing? “
jester shakes her head and beau blinks at her, anger burning, aching, eating. realization sets in and her ears ring, her blood rushing so loud she can’t make out what she says next.
but she doesn’t need to. she already knows.
tears blur her vision and for a moment she sees purple skin and curled horns before she blinks and it’s caleb’s pale, slack face staring up at her again.
she’s not supposed to get attached to people. she’s the asshole on the periphery; never liked and never liking.
she’s meant to be the temporary one.