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It comes to her one day. Perhaps it came sooner - Jan wouldn’t know, she’s never quite excelled in forecasting, but she’s almost fearless and finds joy in making up solutions on the spot, and she’s fast to reignite her hope for the best after she falls. She has a lot to compensate for the lacks in preparation. But it comes one day - the realisation - and the lacks feel very prominent.
She’s throwing herself onto the couch, bracing herself for the cracking in her back she doesn’t fully know when she acquired - she’s guessing it was somewhen between taking liking to coffee and regarding it a necessity - when she notices orange material laying on the floor. She picks it up, shifting to the least uncomfortable position to lay in, and smiles. She can imagine the whole scene - Jackie sitting there in the morning, with the cardigan loosely draped around her shoulders (maybe it was trapping her hair, too, that Jan wasn’t sure of, but Jackie often let it cover her long, brown locks, and it always made Jan think that she’d look equally beautiful with a shorter hairstyle - in hindsight, that's been pretty telling) and coffee in a tiny, glass cup in her hand, relieving in the quietness and emptiness of the world asleep, the surrealism of solitude that seems omnipotent, but with no one to witness it. The cardigan smells of patchouli and yasmin, the perfumes Jackie uses on lazy days that truly deserve better than two bedrooms with an excuse for a living room and no A/C, and on the ones she’s happy. She didn’t tell Jan that, but she’s seen the steady, calm warmth in her eyes and made a connection herself. It smells of patchouli and yasmin, but Jan doesn’t have to burrow her nose in the material to sense that. She noticed Jackie was happy in the morning, so it must smell like that. She just knows it does, and then it dawns on her.
She’s in love.
It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t unplanned either. It has never been the question of a plan with Jackie and her, it was a coincidence and pure luck of colliding with something that felt genuine to fit with. It was stars feeling a little bit generous, and the streets of New York City a little bit merciful. Things were happening, and they just rolled with them. So, actually, it shouldn’t surprise her. Maybe she should have seen it coming, when one day they discovered holding hands felt natural, so they just started doing it, and then one day they discovered kissing worked better than words in some cases, so they just started doing it as well, and another day they discovered that leaving the other one’s bed after they were done catching their breaths didn’t make sense anymore, so they just stopped doing it. None of it was planned, but sometimes Jackie dropped a casual kiss onto her shoulder in passing or smiled the smile that holds no restrictions, and it would make Jan think that in the great scheme of things, maybe they make sense.
But she’s never quite excelled in forecasting. So it does surprise her, but just for a moment, just at first, because then she find herself looking around the living room and seeing little traces of Jackie everywhere, and it makes her oh so fond. She’s in love, and suddenly it’s like she’s never gone a day without loving Jackie.
She looks at Jackie’s cardigan on her lap and thinks of her. “I love you,” she whispers, and it’s disbelieving, shy and shaky, like the tip of a wick catching on fire, but it makes her feel warm all over just a heartbeat later. She stands up from the couch.
She looks at a monstera deliciosa Nicky gave them and thinks of the care Jackie put into looking for a place with the perfect amount of light for a gift from their friend.
She looks at a golden headpiece proudly displayed on one of the shelves, and thinks of Jackie’s passion and dedication for what’s important to her.
She looks at the little genie statue, and thinks of Jackie’s sense of humour and how she’s never enjoyed anyone’s company as much as hers.
She looks at the photo of them from Jan’s first show, her smiling at the camera and Jackie smiling down at her, and thinks about how no one has never cared for her as much as Jackie does.
She looks at the chip in the frame she caused when she dropped it while dusting, and thinks of all the times she didn't deserve Jackie's kindness, but got it regardless.
Then, the door opens.
“I’m home!” Jackie announces cheerfully, taking her jacket off and hanging it on the hook. Jan’s heart is beating too fast and she’s used to diving head first, but her point of balance has been thrown off by the sound of a key in the lock, and she’s already falling with nothing to hold onto. Jackie turns to face her with her usual smile, warm and easy, but when she meets her eyes, her breath catches in her throat.
She looks at Jackie and thinks back to one of her first days after moving in.
She stumbled into the apartment in the evening to find Jackie sitting on the floor next to the the open balcony, smoking. Smoke on the fire escape never meant anything good, no one needed to remind Jan of that. But it was one of the first days of Jackie and her living together and they were yet to get past the courteous nothings filling the empty space between them until one of them slipped out of the kitchen. But you do have to start somewhere, so she sat opposite of Jackie, leaning on the wall, and let her talk.
“How do you know it isn’t working?” She asked as Jackie lit another cigarette, softly, for the sake of wet trails on the other woman’s cheeks, but earnestly, like she always did. Jackie let out a sound that seemed like the first step towards chuckling. She looked straight at Jan.
“How do you know it is?”
Jan pursued her lips, thinking. She’d never been the one to give advice on relationships. At least, not good ones and not to herself, even though she always meant well. But no one could be less judging than a stranger you share a total of three houseplants and a package of sugary cereal with. Especially if you saw them sobbing on the floor next to an open balcony not five minutes earlier. When she started talking, Jackie seemed surprised, like she hadn’t thought Jan actually would, or like she forgot she was still there. “If you make each other happy. I mean, yeah. That’s enough.”
Jackie threw her head back with laughter, but it was dark and bitter. “Then it’s definitely not working.”
She was right - it wasn't, and it took a long time for Jackie to put herself back together, but Jan was there to pick up any piece she'd drop. She's promised herself to always be there for Jackie.
But now she’s in love.
She looks at Jackie and says, “I bought skimmed milk. That was the only one they had in the store.”
Jackie nods, but it’s not at what Jan said. Her eyes are burning holes in Jan’s head. She swallows visibly. Jan can’t let her speak.
She’s in love.
“I can go check if they have regular one in the corner shop, though.” She ducks Jackie and walks past her on her way to the door.
“Jan.” Jackie turns around and tries to reach for her. Jan can’t bear that something in her voice. It’s like reason slipping and a little too close to the edge.
“No, it’s okay, I know you like it better. It’s my turn to do the shopping anyway.” She’s putting on her coat, pretending to be fascinated with the way her arm slides into a sleeve and appears on its other end.
“Jan,” Jackie says again, but it sounds like an assurance and her eyes are hopeful, and-
“I love you,” Jan blurts out, and then she’s slamming the door behind her and running down the stairs.
Fifth floor.
She can’t. She can’t do that to Jackie.
Fourth floor.
She could never, it would kill her to become the reason she buys a pack of cigarettes to hide the way her lungs burn from crying.
Third floor.
She lands too hard on her left feet and pain shoots through her ankle, but it doesn’t make her stop.
Jackie’s voice does. She’s calling out for her, and Jan’s whole body halts mid-movement, like it wasn’t able to resist Jackie pleading. It isn’t, it totally isn’t. She turns around slowly and watches as Jackie gets closer and then bends in half, finally catching up with her, but not yet with her beath.
“What did you say?” Jan doesn’t meet her gaze, but then Jackie cradles Jan’s face in her hands and lifts it. Her touch is soft, and it takes everything not to lean into it. She starts stroking Jan’s cheek, and the blonde risks to look into her eyes. They’re beautiful - they always are - but now they’re sparkling, and her cheeks are still flushed from running, and she’s so beautiful. And Jan is so in love with her.
She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out of it. Jan has never been fragile, but she knows the heart of a woman in front of her is, and she can’t help to mirror that. She’s never had something this precious in stake, so she wills herself to be a better person, to pretend she’s as good as Jackie deserves, when she knows she isn’t.
“I- I didn-” She starts, but Jackie brings their foreheads together, cutting her off.
“No. Don’t say that, please, Jan, please.” And that’s it. Her voice is shaking, and it’s more than Jan could ever take. She wraps her arms around Jackie and pulls her close, and then a little bit closer, just for a good measure. She inhales patchouli and yasmin, and it makes tears sting behind her eyes. Jackie pulls back, just enough to look at her. She’s determined, but she speaks like she was praying. “Tell me the truth.”
“I can’t. You don’t want that,” she tries to reason. She’s already hurting her - there are tears in Jackie’s eyes too, and it’s more than enough.
“I do.” There's that determination again, and it's more than woud be safe for either of them. She puts one of her hands back on Jan’s cheek and starts stroking it. She smiles and it’s watery, but it’s her, so Jan still thinks that in this moment she’s the most beautiful woman in the world, and it hurts. “We make each other happy. That’s enough, right?”
If Jan tried to speak, she’d burst out crying, so she just nods.
“Tell me the truth.”
“I love you.” It’s quiet, but Jan has never been more sure of anything, so she clears her throat and tries again, and once she does, she can’t stop repeating it, so she's saying it over and over again until Jackie cuts her off with a kiss.
They’re both crying and they’re standing on the mezzanine on the staircase, and they share a total of four houseplants and a bottle of skimmed milk, but they’ve got each other too, and they make each other happy.
And it’s enough.