jaebility: (tutu // bad writing)
[personal profile] jaebility
When she turned away from the closed door, P was already at the windows. The light filtering in made a pretty silhouette of him and he stood still enough for a few minutes that he was almost a statue carved delicately out of marble. T scrunched her hands into fists and hated him even more.

"So," she said, and he turned around. "How long has it been going on?"

"T," he began beseechingly, "just-"

"Answer me!"

He pressed his lips flat and shrugged. "Ask J."

"I'm asking you!"

"Look, what do you want me to say? Sorry?"

"How - I mean - how could you, with J -"

His shoulders moved again. For a moment he looked just like J had, closed and distant, sneering down at the intruder. He knew why she had come to him after J had locked the door and his wards flared red in her face. And so, an instant later, he softened and dragged his hands through his hair.

"Sorry," he said to the ceiling. "It wasn't supposed to happen."

She had cried all night and into the sink by the window in the first floor bathroom. She scrubbed at her swollen eyes as more tears squeezed themselves out and wiggled through the powder she had packed over her crimson cheeks. She turned away from P to spare him from her wet emotions.
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a jar of jae

November 2016

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