𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙶𝙴𝚃 𝙷𝙴𝚁࿐ ྂ ᴊᴇꜰꜰ ʙᴜᴄᴋʟᴇʏ

ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ

SOMETIME IN THE EARLY HOURS OF THE MORNING,

Polly had risen from Jeff's bed, careful not to wake him as she quietly walked to the bathroom. Brookes room seemed to be empty, Polly saw. She cringed as the old hardwood creaked under her step as she walked back to Jeffs room, where the lamp now spilled soft orange light. Shit, she thought, I woke him up.

Jeff sat on the bed, the fender in his lap, eyes bright despite being woken up. "I woke you up," Polly said, embarrassed.

"Nah, it's alright." He set the guitar down as Polly sat, "I'm glad you did. I was worried you'd be gone when I woke up." He admitted bashfully.

"I would wait to say bye." She told him truthfully, knowing with any other man that wouldn't be the case.

They sat in silence, each having no desire to fall back asleep. Soon Polly had leaned into Jeff, and his arms wrapped around her. Both would've been content to stay in each other's arms, but soon innocent kisses had turned into much more.

By sunrise, the bed was a tangle of discarded clothes, and they were wrapped in the sheets as Polly's hand ran through Jeff's messy hair.

He simply looked at her, a haze in his mind making him feel drunk, although he hadn't had a drink. He was sure he'd kissed every inch of her, yet still wanted more even in their tired state.

The two talked in quiet voices, about anything that crossed their lovesick minds.

Jeff's words were like poetry, dream-like and colorful, and Polly listened carefully as to remember every detail. The way she spoke to him was different, much more scattered and bodiless, although, to Jeff, each word clearly illustrated what she spoke of.

He wondered if Polly had ever fallen in love. It seemed as though she had fallen out of it, with how she spoke of feeling and pain. She fell in love with the ideas of people.

He wondered if she hurt the same way he did knowing they couldn't lay in bed together forever.

He wondered if she felt alive with him the way he did with her.

Jeff's fingertips grazed down her arm, as if he was checking that she was real, that what had happened was real. "You're real," he stated, thinking aloud.

"I guess so." She smiled.

"You know what I want?" He asked, his dark eyes staring into her blue ones.

"Hm?"

"An actual date." He declared, wanting to have more then playing her guitar and walking her home, "if you'll have me." He added.

"I'll have you." She answered, pushing her worries of commitment and actual relationships away, because there was no way she could deny Jeff. Besides, a date was just that, a date- not a commitment or a full time partner.

Jeff thought for a moment, "Let's get breakfast." He stood from the bed, pulling on a pair of baggy jeans and sweater.

"Okay," she agreed, smiling. She picked her clothes off up the bed and floor, r not wanting to slip back into the dress she'd worn the night before. "Can I borrow something?" She gestured to the small closet, half empty.

He nodded and laughed as she put on a pair of his jeans, "those fit nice."

"Brookes not here, and I'm not stealing her stuff." She reasoned, tightening the belt.

At the mention of his roommate, Jeff wondered what she'd think about this. Brooke was easygoing, yet he didn't like the idea of telling her that he'd slept with, who he assumed, was her closest friend.

It was obvious that Brooke cared for Polly, with what she'd told him about how Polly was when they'd first met. She was young and stupid, just like any other kid was when they'd first moved away from home. But, she was reckless and at times she didn't care who her recklessness hurt, even if it hurt herself.

Jeff wasn't good at hiding his feelings, so when Brooke had caught on to his liking for Polly, all she'd said was to be careful, even though her friend had changed for the better throughout the years.

As they walked onto the street Jeff took her hand, kissing it before holding it tightly.

Polly wondered what she'd done to deserve a man like him. He was understanding without trying to be, beautiful even coated with sweat and tangled hair, he was alluring in every single way.

He held her hand.

He bought her breakfast.

He played her guitar.

Why her? What did he see in Polly? In a mirror she saw the flaws that ran deeper than flat hair or a stretch mark. She saw what she'd been called all her life. A let down, a failure. She didn't believe she was anything extraordinary, except Jeff made her feel that way.

Why her?

༻✦༺

"I think if you want something you should go for it. Give a fuck later, you know?" Jeff told her, grinning as he sipped his coffee.

They were talking over breakfast, now about Polly's short-lived Tisch years. "I don't know if it's that simple. I'd have no time." She spoke thoughtfully, as going back to school was something she'd been considering for two years.

"Yeah, but you'd be the next Tim Burton." Jeff said wholeheartedly, encouraging Polly's filmmaking dreams.

"Oh I'm sure." She quipped, although finding his insistence cute. "What about you?"

"A dream?"

She nodded.

He was quiet. A million ideas raced through Jeff's head. He didn't want to be rich and famous. He didn't want to be Tim Buckey's son.

He wanted to make music, and if he was lucky, people would listen.

But right then, out of all the unattainable dreams swirling in in his mind, one was very simple, and that was Polly.

She was like a song he'd heard once long ago but hadn't ever remembered it, like the song that was carried through the wind and the buildings, the melody escaping her piano. She was his dream.

"Honest?" He asked.

She nodded once more, "honest."

"You."

༻✦༺

a/n-

i hope the polly info in this chapter and the last isn't completely boring but i just thought it's important to give some more insight on who she is- not just her and jeff's relationship :))