𝕵𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖆 𝕺𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖌𝖆 𝕴𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘

Fall Without a Net

The kitchen was still warm from dinner, plates stacked by the sink, laughter now just an echo in the walls. The family had retreated to the living room, voices low, music humming from an old speaker.

But in the kitchen, silence.

Y/n leaned against the fridge, arms crossed, a toothpick dangling from her lips.
Jenna stood by the counter, arms around herself, like the air had gone colder all of a sudden.

Y/n watched her with that same unreadable gaze. Calm, patient, dangerous only in how well she could see people.
Especially Jenna.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Jenna asked, voice breaking the quiet.

Y/n didn't blink. "Because you're lying."

Jenna's breath hitched. "About what?"

"You're scared."

Jenna gave a short, nervous laugh. "Of what? You?"

And Y/n didn't smile.

Didn't flinch.

Didn't soften.

Just tilted her head.

"Yeah," she said softly. "Of me."

That was the moment Jenna's eyes flicked up, wild and defensive. "I'm not scared of you."

Y/n took one slow step forward.

"You are. But not because you think I'll hurt you. You're scared because I don't. Because I see you. All of you. And you don't know what to do with that."

"Don't do that," Jenna said sharply, swallowing hard.

"Do what?"

"Make it sound so easy. Like you know me that well."

"I do." Y/n's voice didn't waver. "I know you better than you let most people get within five miles of. And you know it."

Jenna's hands clenched the edge of the counter.

"You scare me," she whispered.

Y/n blinked.

But Jenna wasn't done. "Not because of anything you've done, but because I love you so much I can barely breathe when you're in the room. Because when you're not around I feel like something's missing. And I'm scared that one day you're gonna wake up and realize you don't want someone who panics at the thought of forever."

Y/n walked up to her then, silent as ever, and reached out—
softly taking Jenna's hand from the countertop and pressing it to her chest.

Her heartbeat. Loud. Solid. Steady.

"Do I look like I'm going anywhere?"

"You could," Jenna muttered.

"I won't."

"You might."

"I'm yours," Y/n whispered. "Even when you're scared. Even when I scare you. I'm still gonna be right here, giving you a heart I never thought I'd offer anyone."

Jenna finally looked up, eyes glistening, her bottom lip trembling like it wasn't fair, how good Y/n was at this—how calm she could be in the middle of someone else's storm.

"What if I don't know how to do this?" Jenna asked. "What if I screw it up?"

Y/n smiled, small and crooked, pulling her closer.

"Then we screw it up together. But I'd rather crash with you than fly with anyone else."

And just like that—

Mama Ortega walked in with a towel over her shoulder and paused mid-step.
"Are y'all crying in my kitchen again?"

Jenna sniffled and Y/n wiped her cheek with her thumb like she was made to do it.

Emma called from the living room, "Jenna's scared of love again!"

"Mind your business!" Jenna shouted, her voice cracking.

Y/n laughed. Full and warm.

Mama Ortega just nodded like yeah, that tracks and left them alone.

The fire pit cracked low in the backyard, stars blinking down like curious witnesses.

Y/n sat with her guitar in her lap, strumming low chords—nothing melodic, just a habit. A comfort. Emma and one of the cousins were bickering over Uno. Mama Ortega was inside, probably refolding the same towel for the third time.

Jenna stepped out barefoot, her hoodie swallowing her frame. No makeup. No armor. No act.

She watched Y/n's fingers dance on strings before she whispered:

"Can I talk to you?"

Y/n looked up, the glow of the flames making her look unreal, like something sacred. "Always."

Jenna sat beside her, knees touching, but didn't speak right away. She stared into the fire like it had the answers.

"I've been...thinking," she started. "About earlier. About everything."

Y/n hummed, waiting.

"I don't think I've ever let anyone really love me. I think I keep people at a distance until they give up, and then I convince myself I'm hard to love and that's why they left."

Y/n didn't interrupt. She let Jenna's words fill the night like prayers.

"But you don't leave," Jenna whispered.

"Nope."

"You should've by now."

"Nope," Y/n repeated. "Try again."

Jenna bit her lip, tears threatening. "Why?"

Y/n smiled, small but steady. "Because you make me believe in things I used to laugh at. You make me want a future. And you're so...good. Even when you're afraid."

Jenna blinked. "I'm tired of being afraid."

Y/n turned to face her fully. "Then stop running."

Jenna met her eyes, all vulnerability and softness. "I don't know how."

"You don't have to." Y/n leaned forward. "Just fall. I'll catch you."

A beat of silence.

And then Jenna whispered:
"Okay."

Her lips brushed Y/n's, tentative at first—like a question. Y/n answered it without hesitation, kissing her deeper, holding her like something precious.

Jenna pulled back, just an inch.

"I love you," she said. "I'm not saying it because I'm scared anymore. I'm saying it because I mean it."

Y/n's breath caught.

She laughed—laughed—like her heart had just come alive for the first time. "You just made the stars jealous, J."

Jenna smiled through tears. "Good."

And that was the night she fell—completely, willingly.
Not because love was easy.
Not because she stopped being afraid.

But because Y/n made it safe to fall.

From across the yard, Emma whispered loudly, "They're making out again!"

Mama Ortega didn't even look up from her glass of wine. "Let them. Took her long enough."