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.
"What did I do to make you hate me?" he whispers, eyes a little wider and full of concern.
"What did you do?" She finds it easier to laugh when he looks like he wants to cry.
"You mean since the morning? Oh, there were too many to list off." And he's doing that now. He's playing with the tips of her hair, and it makes her knees wobble and the warmth in her stomach churn.
"Since then," she says simply, and he finally stops fiddling with her hair. He looks up at her with an indescribable expression.
"Well, there was a lot of time before then," he murmurs, voice low and subdued. She nods her head at that, not really wanting to think of the implications of what she just admitted.
"It wasn't just sleeping though," he continues.
"What do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean." He's not playing with her anymore, and his eyes are fixed on hers in a way that feels like a challenge.
"I'm sorry I've made you feel that way, but we're just not on the same page anymore," she says plainly, and she feels the way he tenses at her words.
"It doesn't have to be that way." He's pleading now, and maybe this is it. Maybe this is when she gets what she wanted for so long. She really hopes it'll be worth the effort and the pain and the inevitable awkwardness.
"Yes. It does. We can't ever go back to what we were, Jay," she says as softly as she can manage, and she's still trying to look at him, but he's looking at everything but her.
"What if I want to try?" he asks, and the words seem foreign. It's hard to find out that he's changed just as much as she has.
"What?" she chokes out.
He turns to face her, and it's harder to breathe with the intensity of his stare. "I think it's worth a try."
"You're not thinking clearly," she says as if that'll somehow make her heart stop pounding.
"You've changed, and I think you're worth it."
"It doesn't work that way." She knows that she's trying to convince herself more than him at this point.
"What if it does?"
She shakes her head and it feels like it's getting lighter. "We can't do this."
"I think we can," he whispers, and she doesn't know why she's trying to keep her breathing steady or the tears from forming because they're definitely going to fall.
"We can't," she echoes.
"But you want to," he says, and there's a strange sense of conviction in his tone that makes her feel something akin to hopeful.
"Of course I do, but that doesn't mean we should. You can't say you don't want to anymore. You can't look at me and pretend that you're not seeing me. I'm just not that girl, Jay. I'm not your dream girl anymore."
"That's not true," he starts, "I see you. I'm looking at you now. And I still don't care."
She can feel the way he's holding her hand tighter now, and maybe she doesn't want to let go anymore. "How do you not care?"
"It's you."
He's looking at her so intently that it makes her forget how to breathe again. She doesn't even remember when she fell in love with him, but it must have happened then. It must have happened while she was staring at him with that same intensity while he played with the ends of her hair or the way she woke up to him laughing at something.
"It's me," she breathes, "but what if something happens?"
"Then it'll happen."
"How can you be so sure?"
He shrugs, "I guess I'm just an idiot."
She feels a smile tug at her lips, "It doesn't sound like the worst thing in the world."
"Maybe not," he whispers before leaning in and kissing her. She's not sure when he got so close, but the only thing she can feel is his lips and the way her heart is thundering against her rib cage. His arms wrap around her waist as hers find his shoulders, and she knows in that moment that there's no going back anymore. She thinks she might never want to.
"What was that for?" she asks once he's pulled away.
"Just wanted to see if you still tasted the same."
"How long have you been holding that in?" she wonders, still trying to catch her breath.
"I'm just a man, Nya. There are things you don't know about."
"That's true," she laughs, and it feels good. "What do you say we make a plan of action, starting with you in bed."
She can see the way he smiles, "Are you saying that you're going to take care of me?"
"Don't push it." She slaps him on the arm before leading him back to his room.
"Ow! No hitting the injured, okay? And you don't have to do anything you don't want to. We can just cuddle. Or not. Whatever," he rambles, and it's a little cute to see him act this way.
"It's going to be hard being friends after all," she says under her breath.
"Well, it's going to be hard for you anyway," he mumbles before letting her guide him into the tiny bedroom of the lighthouse. "So, are you going to sit there, or are you going to sleep with me?"
And maybe she didn't want to laugh, but she couldn't help it. "I thought you wanted to cuddle, Jay."
He makes a sound in his throat, "I never said I didn't want to sleep with you."
"I hate you sometimes," she mutters before climbing into the bed and wrapping her arms around him in that moment. She can feel the way he presses a kiss to her forehead before burying his face in the crook of her neck. And even when she wants to move, she can't. It's as if her arms are pinned to his sides with the way his hold on her is so strong.
"I know," he whispers against her skin.
She can't bring herself to be mad, not when he's holding her like this and he's breathing steadily. "Go to sleep, Jay," she says.
She feels his lips at the shell of her ear and his voice is barely a murmur, "I can't."
She waits for him to elaborate, but he doesn't.
"You can tell me what's bothering you when you're ready," she starts, "but you have to realize that it doesn't make me hate you any more."
"What do you mean?" He seems more alert now.
"It means, if you really care for me the way you say you do, then you should stop pretending and just tell me," she murmurs.
He sighs before he seems to sink back into her. "I don't think I'm worthy of you anymore, but I guess that's the thing with you. You make me feel worthy of something I never thought I'd have."
"You're still you," she mumbles.
He shrugs, "But I'm not the same as I was. I've changed."
"I know," she whispers.
He laughs, "You really don't."
She hums, "Maybe not."
She can feel his lips pressing against her shoulder and it's a little ticklish. "I think I'm just going to go to sleep."
She nods even though he can't see her. "Okay."
"Goodnight, Nya."
"Goodnight, Jay."
And maybe she doesn't need sleep as much as she needs him.