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You're chowing down on a steaming bowl of seafood at Jericho's. The flavors explode in your mouth. Delicious, delicious happiness.
A hooded figure quietly slides into the seat beside you. You catch a glimpse of blue hair before she lowers her hood.
“Bad day?” you ask, and the bluenette doesn't respond and steals your bowl from your hands. “I was eating—”
“And you still are, it's fine,” she interrupts.
Life in Zaun is tough, especially after Silco's death, leaving room for chem barons to fight for power. What's new? Absolutely nothing.
You frown at her and watch her eat your food. “How was your day?”
She scoffs. “Shitty.”
“When is it not?”
She shrugs. “True.”
Then, a kid catches your eye. You nudge Jinx, nodding at the kid in the far corner. “Who's that?”
“Dunno. She's been following me.”
You look at the young girl who's been staring at you both, squinting at her as your gaze shifts back to Jinx. She takes notice of your questioning look and quickly says, “She's not mine.”
You raise an eyebrow. “You sure?”
She rolls her eyes. “She's not mine. Don't look at me like that.”
You glance at the kid again, watching as she slowly slinks into the shadows, hiding from view. “You hungry, kiddo?” you call out, gesturing towards the seat beside you.
The girl's eyes peek out from the shadows, widening as you catch her gaze. She hides again but emerges just a few seconds later, hesitantly creeping forward. Her eyes flit between you and Jinx for a few seconds before landing on the bowl of seafood.
She tries to hop up onto the stool, though it's a bit high for her, and you help her up. You order her a bowl of seafood like you and Jinx were having. She then begins eating, her hands stuffing her face.
You share a look with Jinx before looking back at the girl eating the bowl of seafood. You watch as she slurps down the food, barely noticing the juice running down her chin.
“Uh, so kid, where are your parents or guardian?” you question. “Shouldn't you be with them?”
She chews a bit, staring at you in response, then shakes her head.
“No one, huh?” you ask. “You don't have any family?”
She shakes her head again.
“No friends either?” Your question earns another head shake from the girl.
You and Jinx finish your food and pay Jericho, then head out into the busy lanes with the girl trailing after you. The kid sticks close to Jinx's side, eyeing any person who passes by.
You turn towards Jinx. “Can she stay with us?”
She looks at the child and back at you. “Do we even have a room for her?”
You consider the practical aspects of taking the kid in. The answer is likely ‘no’, but you're not about to leave a random kid on the streets, and you'd really prefer it if someone didn't die today.
“She could use your room,” you suggest. “I mean, you found her first.”
But Jinx isn't having it. “Nah, you're the one who brought it up, so it's your room.”
You and your parents once owned a house. Thanks to the all and mighty Piltover enforcers who played a role in your parents' disappearance, leaving the house unoccupied.
Seeing an opportunity, you claimed the house, not only for yourself but also for your close friend who, without it, would have nowhere to sleep comfortably.
“It's my house.”
“ Our house,” she corrects, smirking. “Considering most of the stuff there comes from me, it's not just yours. So that means-”
Your brow furrows, and you stop in your tracks, planting your hands on your hips as you stare at her. “By ‘comes from you,’ do you mean the stuff you've stolen?”
“Finders keepers.”
You sigh, knowing you're not winning this argument. “Fine,” you relent. “She can sleep in my room. I'll take the couch.”
You then crouch down to meet the kid's gaze, Jinx standing beside you with her arms crossed. “What's your name, little one?” you ask, but the child remains wordless.
You glance at Jinx for help, but she's already thinking of names. “How about Pompom?”
You scoff at Jinx's suggestion before turning back to the kid who's eyeing you both with a frown on her face, shaking her head at the name 'Pompom.'
“No?” Jinx asks, and the girl shakes her head again. “Not into that one, huh? How about Pinky? or— or...Sparkles?”
Each time Jinx suggests a name, the little one shakes her head. You're both getting nowhere at this rate.
“You're going to be a pain, aren't you?” Jinx murmurs, crouching down beside you to see the kid at eye level. “No, no, and no to the names?”
“How about ‘Isha’?” you suggest.
The moment the name leaves your lips, the child's eyes light up.
“Isha, it is then.”
The kid—now called Isha—nods her head, and the look in her eyes is one of happiness. Who knew this kid was such a picky one? You think you see a small smile at the corner of her mouth.
“She likes ‘Isha’ more, huh?” Jinx says, a bit pouty. “Figures, it came from you.”
“What? It's a nice name.”
“Yeah, whatever.” She turns to Isha, poking the girl on the nose. “Well, Isha, you're stuck with us now.”
Isha's eyes dart between you and Jinx.
“More like we're the ones who are stuck with her,” you reply, chuckling, as you playfully ruffle the girl's hair.
It's been a full month since Isha started living under the same roof.
It's a rare sight to see Jinx with a soft expression, but whenever she's around the child, her face has a certain amount of…softer edges.
But not now, apparently.
You've walked into the living room and found Jinx making Isha hold a gun, teaching her how to shoot. You scoff, raising an eyebrow as you watch Jinx make the girl practice holding the weapon straight.
“Seriously?” you ask, crossing your arms.
“What? It's a fake gun,” she defends herself, adjusting the toy in the little girl's arms.
“That's not the point. She's just a kid.”
“Pft, ‘just’ a kid.” Jinx rolls her eyes. “It's harmless, I promise. Just a little fun.”
“If you're looking for something fun…” You reach into your bag and pull out a coloring book and colored markers. “I found these in the lanes,” you explain, offering the items to Isha. “Much better than play-shooting,” you suggest, giving a pointed look to Jinx before she can protest.
She watches as Isha's face lights up, her attention immediately shifting to the coloring book and markers. “But—”
“No buts. She's coloring now,” you cut her off, giving the book and markers into Isha's waiting hands.
Jinx lets out a sigh, dissatisfied, but she doesn't protest further. She pouts and leans back against the wall, watching as Isha happily colors in the book.
You join Isha, sitting next to her. Her hands grip the markers tightly as she fills the pages with colors. “Making something nice?” you ask, peering over her shoulder to see her work.
Isha nods, her tongue sticking out of her mouth as she carefully adds some color. She glances at you, offering a shy smile before returning to her drawing.
Once Isha is finished with her drawing, she proudly holds it up for you and Jinx to see. The drawing shows three stick figures on a bright blue sky. The two tallest figures, with one that has what looks like braids, are holding hands with the small one in the middle. The three figures smile under the sun.
“Wow, look at that! It's us, all together.”
Jinx, though reluctant at first, can't help but crack a smile too. “Why are my eyes so big?” She snickers, pointing at the large eyes drawn on her figure.
Your eyes catch a look at the squiggly line below your drawn figure, and you point a finger out. “And what's that supposed to be, hm?”
Isha giggles, a blush creeping up her face.
Jinx leans in to get a better look before letting out a snort. “It's your shadow, duh.”
“In that case, my shadow looks like it ate too much and grew extra limbs.”
“Well, if your shadow's a glutton, mine's got tentacles.” She points to her shadow drawing, which indeed looks like it has several wriggly appendages attached to it.
“You know, I think this is fridge-worthy,” you grin, holding up the drawing. “What do you think, Isha? Do you want to put this on the fridge?” You turn to Isha, who nods excitedly, clapping her hands together.
You hand the drawing to Isha, who eagerly takes it to the fridge. You follow her, lifting her up so she can stick the drawing against the fridge. She smooths out any wrinkles and carefully adjusts it until she's satisfied.
“Ta-da!” you say, as the drawing now has a permanent place of honor on the fridge.
“Not too shabby, squirt,” Jinx says.
Isha grins at the compliment, preening at the words of approval.
Jinx chuckles before gesturing towards the drawing. “Maybe one day we'll see this piece in a Piltover museum, valued at a million golden hexes.”
“Only a million? I think it's worth a lot more. Maybe we should start an auction right here and now.”
Isha giggles, her small fingers tracing the colors on her drawing again.
“Alright, alright, don't go getting ideas. We don't need some fancy Piltie art collector trying to buy this and hang it in their mansion.”
“Come on, Jinx.” You nudge her. “Don't you think it'd be hilarious to see this hanging in some fancy mansion surrounded by all those fancy Piltover paintings? Maybe we should get Isha to make more of this and turn this whole place into a gallery.”
You meant ‘place’ not your face.
Lying down on the couch, you squint your eyes open as you feel a moist sensation along your face. When your vision clears, you see Isha, giggling, marker in hand, and running away as fast as her legs can carry her.
“Isha—” you call out, sitting up, touching your cheek. It's covered in...marker? “You little rascal, come here!”
The sound of a door opening makes you pause. Turning, you see Jinx standing there, half-asleep and clearly irritated.
“What the hell is going on here?” she grumbles, rubbing her eyes.
A snicker escapes Isha's lips.
“Looks like you've got a new makeup look, Jinx.”
“What?” she asks, her voice still groggy from sleep.
Silence.
Jinx looks at you, at Isha's hand, at the streak of color on your cheek, and finally, places her own hand on her cheek. A wet mark of color spreads on her fingertips.
“Isha.”
You and Jinx exchange a glance. Grins matching hers. Without hesitation, you both rush after Isha, who breaks into a run.
Just as she turns a corner, you quickly change direction and outstretch your hands, successfully scooping her up into your arms and spinning her around, her hands grasping at your shirt and arms around your neck as she continues to giggle.
While still holding Isha, you see Jinx's eyes as her hand darts towards a nearby marker and begins to draw on Isha's face.
Isha squirms and laughs in your arms, trying to escape your grasp. Jinx continues to draw on her face, not holding back as she draws lines across the girl's cheeks and chin.
“Come on, lemme finish it.” A few more ink-blots make their way onto the girl's face before she's set down. “Ta-da!” Jinx declares, wiping her hands on her pants.
Isha, still giggling, runs to the nearest mirror. She turns her head from side to side, admiring her new ‘makeover’ from Jinx.
A tug at your heartstrings, and you steal a glance at Jinx, watching her smile at Isha.
Her hair is messy from sleep, a few strands falling into her face and framing her cheeks. Her eyes are still heavy with sleep, heavy-lidded and bleary.
Even in the first light of the sun, even just after waking, she's beautiful.
You look away, hoping Jinx didn't notice you staring at her with that expression written all over your face.
But Isha doesn't miss that. She looks between you and Jinx, her mind catches up and connects the dots, and a sly grin slowly spreads across her face.
Oh. She knows something that you'd prefer to keep hidden.
Isha's been down with a cold.
Today, you made her a bowl of porridge. Jinx volunteered to help.
You stand at the stove, stirring the porridge, with Jinx by your side, carefully cutting up some fresh fruit to mix into the meal. You ladle the porridge into a bowl, checking to make sure it's just the right temperature for Isha's sore throat.
You look down at the bowl, satisfied with the consistency and temperature, before moving it onto a tray along with a spoon, a glass of water, and the bowl of fruit.
You walk towards Isha's room, with Jinx following close behind. Pushing open the door gently, you enter the room to find Isha sitting up in her bed, her blankets piled around her. Her face is flushed from the fever, and she looks tired, but her eyes light up when she sees the tray in your hands.
“Here's your porridge,” you say, setting it down on the bedside table.
Jinx moves to the other side of the bed, sitting down next to Isha and placing a hand on her forehead. “You're still a bit warm.”
Isha nods weakly, trying to suppress a cough.
“But that porridge should help,” you add, sitting down on the edge of the bed and offering the bowl to Isha. “Slow sips, okay? don't want you getting a tummy ache on top of everything else.”
Isha accepts the bowl and sips the porridge carefully.
“There you go.”
Once she's done, Jinx continues to check on her, fluffing her pillows, adjusting the blankets, and giving her the occasional pat on the head.
It's late evening.
Jinx sits cross-legged on the floor, her back resting against the footboard of the bed where Isha is lying down. The little girl's eyes are focused on Jinx, her hands covering her face partially as if trying to stay up a bit longer.
Jinx tells a story she learned from Vander, one that he used to tell her when she was a child. A story about miners getting stuck in a mine and rescued by a mysterious, wisp-like woman that guided them to safety.
When Jinx finishes the story, she glances at Isha, expecting her to be asleep by now. But she just lies there and watches Jinx.
Peeking through the door, you expect to find Isha asleep, but she is still wide awake. Jinx looks like she's wracking her brain to think of more stories, still determined to get the little girl to sleep.
You chuckle as you settle down on the floor next to Jinx. “She's not tired yet, huh?” you whisper.
“No, not yet,” she replies. “I've run out of stories to tell and she doesn't seem even a bit sleepy.”
“She's just like you.”
“Hush,” she says, trying to suppress a smile. “I'm not the one keeping her awake right now.”
“Well, neither of us are helping,” you point out, looking at the little girl who's staring at you both. “Isha, it's time for bed. You need to close your eyes and sleep.”
Isha pouts, clearly not wanting to go to sleep just yet. She looks at Jinx and then at you, her eyes pleading for another story.
“Come on, kid,” Jinx says. “It's well past your bedtime. No more stories.”
Isha's pout deepens, her bottom lip jutting out stubbornly.
You sigh and stand up from the floor, walking over to a nearby bookshelf where you keep various children's books and comics. After a quick rummage, you find a colorful comic book that should interest Isha.
You return to the bed, carrying the comic book, and sit down next to Jinx again. Isha leans forward, her eyes immediately drawn to the book in your hands.
“Found one,” you say, holding up the comic book for the little girl to see. Her eyes light up when she recognizes the vibrant cover.
Flipping open the comic book to the first page, you begin reading aloud about a group of animals in a forest. Isha listens intently, snuggled up in bed, her eyes darting between the images and your face as you read the story.
“Every day, these animals would wake up early,” you read, pointing to the drawing of the animals waking up and stretching. “Some would eat breakfast, some went to play, and some went to search for food.”
“One particularly lazy squirrel woke up late.” You turn over the page to reveal a picture of a sleepy squirrel yawning and rubbing his eyes as the other animals were already out of their nests.
“By the time he woke up, all the nuts were already gone.” You flip over the page again to reveal an image of the squirrel, now wide awake, searching for something to eat but finding nothing but empty trees and bushes.
“The squirrel was shocked and saddened that the nuts had run. But then,” you change your tone dramatically, “one of the rabbits heard the squirrel's cries and decided to help him!”
You turn the page again. “The rabbit, seeing the squirrel's plight, decided to share his own breakfast with him.”
“The squirrel was delighted and grateful,” you read, and you turn the page to show an image of the squirrel happily sharing the nut with the rabbit. “The two of them ate and ate together, until their tummies were full and they fell asleep in a heap on the forest floor!”
You glance up from the book and see that Isha has finally fallen asleep. Her small head is now lying on her pillow, and a smile graces her lips, as if she were dreaming about the animals from the comic book.
You close the comic book and set it down, but then there's a weight on your shoulder.
Looking to the side, you see Jinx, who has fallen asleep. Her head rests on your shoulder, and her hair tickles your neck. Her mouth slightly open, softly...wait, is that snoring?
It's an odd but endearing sight, your heart might have just skipped a few beats.
A strand of blue hair falls over her eyes. Your fingers twitch, wanting to reach out and brush the hair away from her face.
Don't. It would be a small action, but you know that it might wake her up, and the last thing you want is to deal with a grumpy face and her snarky comment.
But your hand moves as if it has a mind of its own. Inch by inch, your fingers close the gap, gently brushing a strand of her blue hair back behind her ear.
Jinx lets out a sigh, her head instinctively leaning into your hand, craving, demanding your touch.
Your eyes trace her face. You want to remember every subtle curve, every freckle, every lash.
There are no words for how much you want her, long for her. It's a feeling like an ache, a need for something, and that something is Jinx. It's a hunger, a need that no food can satisfy.
To love her is to be consumed.
You want to pour out all the words you've ever known, every poem, every line, every phrase, just to try to describe the feelings that have taken root within your heart.
‘Love’ has such a simple, mundane, and tame definition, it doesn't even come close.
Perhaps there's a word to describe your feelings in a distant language long forgotten or even a language yet to be discovered.
Until then, you burn for her.
Perhaps it's for the best that those words exist only in your mind because those words are yours and no one else's.
Until then, you burn for her.
Perhaps it's best that you're the only one who knows this burning, that this aching and desperate desire does not fall on any other ears than your own.
Until then, you burn for her.
Perhaps one day she'll look at you the way you look at her.
Until then, you burn for her .
And for the fire to burn, there must be something for it to devour.
You want to be that something. You want to be that flame she feeds upon. You want to be the match to her gas, the gasoline to her explosion, the tinder to her flame.
To love her is to be consumed .
You're tempted to brush through her hair again, but you hold yourself back. You don't want to risk ruining the moment, ruining her. You pull your hand back, away from her face, and settle on resting it against your thigh instead.
Then Jinx slowly stirs from her sleep. She lifts her head from your shoulder, her heavy-lidded eyes meeting yours, then your mouth, then back to your eyes again.
She swallows hard, her throat bobbing slightly, causing you to question your own sanity. Are you hallucinating? Is it just your imagination? You wonder if your mind is playing tricks on you. Your thoughts are fogged by the way she's looking at you.
Finally, Jinx breaks the silence. “You're staring.”
You blink. “I—” you start to respond, then realize how stupid and obvious it sounds. “Just making sure you didn't drool on me.”
She snorts, her hand pushing your face away from hers.
“Hey!” you say, putting a palm to your face.
You watch as Jinx stands up, heading towards the door, opening it slightly, and pausing to look back at you. “Good night.”
“Night, Jinx,” you reply, one hand still resting on your face.
Just before the door closes, you catch a glimpse of her face—eyes averted, cheeks flushed, and a small smile on her face.
You hear a soft, barely suppressed giggle coming from Isha's bed. Confused, you turn to look at her, only to find her looking at you with a wide grin.
“Isha,” you say, surprised, “I thought you were asleep!”
“You could have warned me,” Sevika grumbles. Isha continues to focus on coloring her hat.
“Fat chance,” Jinx responds, turning to face Sevika. “About what?”
Sevika glares at her, obviously displeased. “Your stunt at the checkpoint.”
“No idea what you're babbling about.”
“That wasn't you?” She scoffs.
Jinx pauses, realization crossing her face. She glances at Isha with a knowing look, noticing the smirk on the child's face.
The conversation with Sevika continues, with Jinx growing more and more restless as it does. Once the discussion is over, Jinx rises from her spot. “I gotta go bother someone,” she says, before walking out.
You notice the look on Isha's face. Disappointment.
“Let's go, Isha,” you say, already grabbing a bat and some small balls. You don't wait for a response, signaling for her to follow as you head to the door.
It's late, the sun having set and the moon now high in the sky. You and Isha had spent the previous hours playing, but Jinx still hasn't returned. Concerned, the two of you look for her.
Isha rides on your shoulder, her small hands gripping your hair. She looks at the surroundings for any sign of Jinx. After some time walking and climbing, you end up on a rooftop. You both climb carefully, making sure not to fall.
You spot Jinx, perched on the edge. She's sitting with her knees against her chest, looking out at Piltover.
You gently place Isha down, giving her a subtle nudge, gesturing towards Jinx. Isha catches your cue, nods quietly, and slowly approaches Jinx. The kid carefully settled herself down beside the bluenette. Her legs dangling off the ledge of the rooftop.
You take a seat on the other side of Isha, settling down with a soft rustle of fabric.
Jinx continues to stare out at the city. “You guys found me, huh?”
Isha shifts her position, moving closer. You notice that she's looking up at Jinx, her head resting against her arm. Jinx glances at the child. She reaches over to ruffle Isha's hair affectionately.
“Couldn't stay away.”
“Yeah,” she mutters, “I guess you two are pretty stubborn.”
You chuckle. “You sound like you're surprised that we'd look for you.”
“You never give up, do you?”
“Nope,” you reply. “Not when it comes to you.”
You reposition yourself, shifting your body so that you can lean back and rest a hand on the cold, gritty rooftop. Jinx moves herself into a more relaxed position, leaning back and placing her hand on the rooftop next to yours. With her other hand, she pats at Isha, gesturing for the child to lie down.
Isha obliges, her small body now sprawled out across Jinx's lap. She fidgets a bit, beginning to tire.
Watching over the city below while the moon hangs low in the night sky, a familiar touch breaks the silence, fingertips seeking yours. There's a gentle pressure, a gentle caress, that causes your hand to twitch involuntarily, yet you don't pull away.
You stare down at her hand, at her slender fingers, her knuckles.
You know what those hands are capable of. You've seen the destruction they can cause, the destruction she can cause. And yet, here they are, resting against you with a gentleness and vulnerability.
Your eyes return to Jinx, watching her watch the glowing lights of Piltover.
“Your hands are cold,” she says as she continues tracing lazy circles with the pads of her fingers. You hadn't even realized how cold your hand had felt until she pointed it out, and now it seems to be burning under her touch. “Ever thought about wearing gloves?”
“Gloves?” you repeat.
“Hm, I guess not.” Her fingers suddenly stop their tracing, and for a moment, you feel disappointed. But she quickly resumes, her thumb brushing over your wrist.
Your eyes dart down to follow the action, watching as her skin meets yours. You hear her huff softly, but you're too busy watching her hand at work to look up and see what kind of expression she's making.
“I can feel it.”
“Feel…what?”
“Your heart.” Her hand stops its circular motion, and instead her forefinger starts tracing your veins. “It's beating fast. It's like...” she trails off, and her finger pauses on your pulse point, like she's counting something.
Then Isha shifts in Jinx's lap, her body stirring slightly. Both you and Jinx turn your attention towards the girl. Jinx lifts her free hand and pats Isha's head reassuringly. Her touch is soft and careful, not wanting to disturb the sleeping girl. With Isha settled, Jinx turns her attention back to you.
She studies you for a moment, her eyes roaming your face, then she suddenly releases your hand. The sudden absence of her touch feels like a loss.
Jinx sits back, creating a bit of space between the two of you.
You blink, confused and disoriented, but you don't move from where you're sitting. “What's on your mind?”
“Just thinking.”
You frown. “About what?”
“About you.”
“Me?”
Jinx glances down at the sleeping Isha, a smile at her lips. “Yeah, and Isha,” she says, her hand absently playing with the child's hair. Her eyes then dart back to you. “Mostly you, though.”
“What...what about us?”
“I've got a habit of bringing trouble wherever I go. I just-” she begins. “I don't want anything bad to happen to either of you...because of me.”
You look at her, your eyes softening. You reach out a hand but stop before you touch her, unsure if she even wants you to. “Jinx...”
Her eyes search yours before she looks down at Isha. “I'm not sure what I'd do if something happened to you…either of you.” She pauses. “I care too much,” she blurts out, looking back up at you. “And honestly, it scares me. I don't want to mess everything up. Everyone I've ever cared about has gotten hurt by me or because of me.”
“That's not true. You wouldn't mess anything up. You—”
“Don't.” That single, quiet word cuts you off, her face hardening. “Don't say that.”
You can't seem to find the right words. What do you say to someone who's been abandoned and never had anyone until now? It feels like you're walking on thin ice, and you don't want to break anything.
So you stay quiet for a moment. Then, you try again. “I…we are not going anywhere.”
“You don't know what could happen.”
“Yes, I do,” you murmur. “I know there's a chance we might end up hurt. Or worse. But that's a risk I'm willing to take. Because being with you, right now, is worth it.”
For a while, she doesn't look at you, but her eyes dart over to Isha, her expression softening before she turns away. Her eyes then meet yours.
“You trust me.”
“I do.”
You reach out slowly, giving her enough time to pull away if she wanted to. But she doesn't, and your fingers find their way to her cheek, gently cupping her face.
“I care about you too,” you murmur, your thumb tracing a path over her cheekbone. “I care about the person you are, not just the person you think you are. I see the good in you, the good that you struggle to see in yourself.”
Your thumb continues tracing the contour of her cheek, her face so close that you could count the freckles and the flecks of lighter blue in her eyes.
“You're afraid. You're terrified of the possibility of me or Isha getting hurt. I understand. But you need to realize,” you pause, your fingers drop down to her chin, coaxing her to look at you, which she does. “You're not a curse. You're not a jinx. Bad things happen, but that doesn't mean it's your fault. It's not your fault—”
“I know.” She trembles under your touch. Her eyes glisten.
“No, listen to me. It's not your fault.”
“I know—” she croaks out, her eyes averting to your hand on her face, then to Isha, then to the city below.
“It's not your fault,” you repeat. A single tear manages to escape her eyes, trickling down her cheek. “You were just a child.”
“But I should have known. I should have— they're gone because of me. It's my fault.”
“No, no, no, it's not your fault. You were just a child. You were doing what you thought was the best to help them, to protect them.” Your thumb gently wipes the tear away, but it's quickly replaced with another one.
“It's not your fault,” you repeat again, your fingers leaving her cheek to brush over her bangs. “That was not your fault, and none of it was your fault.”
She looks at the city, refusing to meet your gaze as her eyes water.
“Please,” you murmur. “Look at me.”
She doesn't respond, but she slowly turns her head to meet your eyes.
“You are not defined by your past, by your mistakes. You are so much more than that. You are loved.” Your fingers move to trace her jawline before moving slowly upwards to her temple. “By me, by Isha. And by many more people than you realize.”
She leans into your touch, her cheek pressing against your palm. She grips your wrists weakly, her hands trembling. The tears flowing down her cheeks get worse, and it hurts you to see her like this.
“It's okay, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere,” you say. “No matter what happens, you hear me? I'm here to stay. We're here to stay. You're stuck with us.”
Slowly, the tears begin to subside. Her breathing steadies. Her body calming down.
You let your fingers slowly shift from her tear stained cheeks to her hair, playing with the strands. “I'll do everything in my power to keep both of you safe.” Your hands move down to her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze.
“I'm not some damsel in distress,” she mutters.
You laugh. “I know you're not. You'd probably kick my ass if I tried to treat you like one. But even the toughest people need someone to have their backs, right?”
Jinx huffs, though you can see the edges of a smile on her face. “That's a cheesy line.”
“Maybe,” you admit. “But it's still true. You don't have to face everything alone.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she says, her hand resuming its gentle stroking of Isha’s hair. “You're annoyingly stubborn, you know that?”
“And yet?”
“And yet somehow I tolerate you.”
Sensing the change in atmosphere, Isha mumbles incoherently, shifting slightly.
“Looks like someone's stirring,” Jinx coos.
With one final pat on Jinx's shoulder, you withdraw your hand, silently communicating that the moment is over, for now. Her shoulders tense at the loss of your touch, disappointment or perhaps longing in her eyes. But she quickly composes herself.
The little girl slowly opens her eyes, blinking sleepily and looking around. She rubs one eye with a fist, then glances up as if just realizing that she's in Jinx's lap. Isha grins brightly when she sees Jinx, her tired eyes lighting up. She wriggles a bit, stretching her limbs and looking surprisingly cheerful despite being woken up.
“I think we should head back. It's getting late.”
Jinx nods, carefully shifting Isha in her arms as she stands up. The child wraps her arms around Jinx's neck, clinging to her like a monkey.
“Alright, kid, time to head home,” she tells Isha, bouncing her up in her arms. The girl giggles and buries her head into the crook of Jinx's neck. “Ready to go?”
You nod, gesturing for them to lead the way. Isha stretches out a hand towards you, wanting to hold onto you too.
“Looks like you've got a fan.”
“Nah, she just likes me that much.”
“That so?” Jinx huffs. “Or is she just using you to get to me?”
“You know she'd choose my company over yours any day.”
“Oh, so that's how it is, huh?” She pokes Isha gently in the stomach, causing another giggle from the child. “Traitor,” she mutters before addressing you again. “I'm wounded, really.”
“You'll survive,” you assure her. “Somehow.”
The warmth of Isha's grasp on your hand. The giggle that escapes her every time Jinx spins her around. The way Jinx's eyes soften when she looks at the child.
This, you realize, is what it feels like to have a home.