Good Morning

Twenty-fourth Morning

A/N: Have some Skybound jaya.

She wakes up in a panic because of how unfamiliar her surroundings are, but he keeps her steady in that very instant.

His hold doesn't loosen, even when she's upright, trying to push him away and his grip just grows stronger. "What's the rush?" he whispers, head tilting up to look at her, nose scrunched up and eyes crinkling at the edges.

She doesn't know whether she wants to kiss him or hit him. Her arms slacken in her moment of indecisiveness, and he uses that chance to pull her in closer. It's odd, really. They've never slept together in the literal sense, and he's probably a little more coherent than she is at the moment. She can feel the way he shifts under her with a sigh, his arms slipping from their grasp of her shoulders.

"Good morning, Nya," he murmurs.

And there's so much more that could be said in that one greeting, and maybe that's what makes her hate herself in that moment for thinking of him this way. He's not her boyfriend anymore. At this point, they are barely friends. And if she has to start looking at him differently now, then it might have been for nothing.

She starts pushing again, and this time he lets her. His face is all scrunched up in a grimace, and she can see the way he rolls onto his back while stretching with a pained wince. She wants to feel for him in that moment, but she can't bring herself to touch him, especially when he's half-naked and it's not just her who's a little frazzled at this point.

"Did you sleep well?"

She almost chokes at his question. "Of course I didn't." She turns to her side, facing him.

"Ah, I see," he says, and there's nothing else but silence for a few beats. It's oddly disconcerting. "You know, it's just because you're not used to sleeping with someone," he says plainly, and it makes her scoff.

"It's not the sleeping, Jay."

"Then what is it?"

And maybe she wants to just say something. Maybe she wants to throw a punch at him and tell him that he has no idea what he's talking about, but she can't because she knows that she has to leave the room first.

She makes for her door again, but his voice is enough to keep her rooted in that spot. "Well, if it's not the sleeping, then what's the problem? We're friends now."

Her stomach lurches at the thought, and she decides to pick up speed in her movement because of it.

"Hey, slow down!" He sounds alarmed now.

"You're such an idiot sometimes."

"You said you wanted to be my friend before. So I'm not going to take it back now. We've both changed, we can do this. We're in it together," he reasons, and maybe there is a hint of hope in that sentence, but she doesn't want to believe it.

"It's not the sleeping, you idiot," she says again, and this time she makes it out of the room before she can hear anything else he has to say.

She makes it into the narrow spiral staircase that  leads to the lower levels of the lighthouse before she feels his fingers encircled around her wrist in a bruising grasp, and she doesn't know whether he's hurt his chest in the process. She can see the way he struggles, and it only makes her angry.

"Don't," he gasps.

"Don't?" she says lowly, a little too harshly, "Don't what? I didn't say anything."

"You were about to," he huffs out, trying to maintain his breath, "And I'm fine with it."

She feels the grip on her arm loosen, and his fingers slip away. And maybe she thinks of walking away again, but his hand reaches for hers and it feels familiar and natural, and she feels her feet slowing down and leading her back to him.