Work Text:
Jinx is the first to catch on.
It comes off as no surprise, really. It's not just that she's a clever girl, with quick eyes and an even quicker mind.
It's the fact that Vi is her sister, and Jinx knows her better than anyone else; knows where the line is drawn in Vi's passion when it comes to hatred and love; knows that the tension that simmers between her and Heartthrob Clique's precious princess is certainly something close to loathing, no doubt tracing its roots back to the hostility towards that prissy clique that seems to be innate in the Heartache Crew, but having twisted into something far more intimate somewhere along the lines when Jinx wasn't paying attention.
But now she watches from the end of the hallway, mindlessly twirling a long of her shocking blue hair around her finger as the Heartthrob Clique saunters down the hall.
Her sister stands by the lockers, and there should be nothing odd in the tilt of Vi's head and Caitlyn's haughty upturned nose—nothing except the typical rivalry that has gone for as long as this academy has existed. There are no stolen kisses or whispered confessions, no love letters slipped through the gaps of their red and pink lockers (or, at least, none that Jinx is aware of).
But Jinx knows .
It's in the too-long second that it takes Caitlyn to turn away from Vi, long lashes fluttering over high, angular cheekbones as she wills herself to look away, her haughty strut quickening into a hasty speedwalk that has her little minions scrambling to match her pace.
It's in the turn of Vi's head as she watches the taller girl walk down the hall, away from her; not quite fading away, but getting farther and farther from her anyway. Her hands curl into fists, nails digging into her palms as she scowls at the floor like a kicked puppy.
Jinx is definitely paying attention now.
❦
It's the sort of illicit romance that’s doomed from the very beginning.
They're cute, Jinx has to admit, only because she likes cute things, but in the same fashion that her little gadgets are; hastily scribbled on with pastels and neons that imply something more lighthearted and merciful than the disaster waiting to happen.
She's seen them together, when they think they aren't looking, tucked away behind the old gym: her sister leaning against the wall, Caitlyn pressed against her, their whispers echoing in the empty hall. Jinx does not let herself linger in moments like this, gagging when she catches a sweet endearment like "Cupcake" or hears the smack of lips kissing.
But the fact that it is only Jinx and her clever eyes that catch them in these moments when they seem like something sweet, something real , speaks volumes.
No one else sees Vi sneaking into Caitlyn's car in the back alley a few streets down after school, fingers brushing against the taller girl's wrist before Caitlyn put her fancy car into gear and drove off where no one—not even Jinx—can find them.
No one else sees, because Caitlyn doesn't let them.
Jinx watches her sister be left behind to linger in the shadow of this girl that, for some reason or another, Vi is head over heels for, and she decides that maybe it's time for some sort of intervention.
❦
"I don't like her."
Jinx's voice is low, almost petulant. She drapes herself over the broad expanse of her sister's back like a stubborn leech, propping her chin up on her spiky magenta hair as she follows Vi's gaze to where Caitlyn sits at her table with the rest of the Heartthrobs, their table situated on a higher platform so their crew—the near-dropouts, the detention locals, the kids from the wrong side of town—have to look up at them like peasants to aristocrats with their cake; like mortals to the heavens.
(Seriously, how cliche did their school layout have to be for their cafeteria to imitate the typical highschool hierarchy?)
"I don't like Caitlyn either," Vi scowls.
"I didn't say a name though?"
The way she stiffens at her sister's knowing look makes it obvious that she knows she's been caught. Jinx holds back a snort, slipping off her sister to slide onto the cafeteria bench next to her instead.
Vi isn't sneaky about it. Not at all. She carries love in abundance, more so than anyone Jinx has ever known. It's in the way she stiffens whenever Caitlyn is in her vicinity, eyes darting toward her like a moth to a flame. It's the way she wilts like a forgotten rose when Caitlyn finally— finally —catches Vi looking at her like she's something precious, only to look away a millisecond later, masking her true emotions for the redhead behind a haughty little laugh at something her friends say, something that surely can't be funnier than Vi's shitty dad jokes.
What a bitch, Jinx thinks, frowning.
“You gonna end things before or after prom?” she asks her sister bluntly, because frankly, she could give less of a shit about who Vi makes googly eyes at—but not now, not when her sister is so obviously hurting.
"There's nothing to end," Vi replies, her voice gruff as she looks back down at her food. She's not too dissimilar to a kicked puppy at this moment. "We're not together."
It's pathetic, and a little bit funny, how she thinks Jinx cannot see the heart that she wears on her sleeve, how it beats so ardently for a girl who will barely let herself look in her direction.
"Yeah, sure," Jinx steals another fry, pops it in her mouth.
Vi huffs, poking around at her food in frustration.
Jinx doesn't press her. Not yet.
❦
It ends like how it began. Quiet, hidden behind a thick veil of the golden girl's insecurities and a rebel's desire to be given the love that she deserves.
Jinx can do nothing but watch from a distance as the tangled web unravels, everything breaking apart like a car crash in slow motion.
The scene plays itself out in the empty hallway near the art wing where Jinx had been staying late to finish her projects.
She had not meant to eavesdrop, really, but she ends up staying hidden around the corner and out of sight because a) she was concerned for her sister, and b) front-row seats to drama like this are rare.
It's long after school has ended, and there's no one else around to see them be tender, affectionate—but there's nothing like that in the way Vi looks like she wants to slam her fist into something, standing there, arms crossed and fists tucked against her elbows, jaw clenched.
Caitlyn, perfect, polished Caitlyn, crosses her arms over the stack of books she tucks to her chest and keeps her chin up, standing just far enough away to make it look like they aren't fighting, even though they totally are.
“When are you gonna stop pretending like I don’t exist?”
The words might as well have hit Caitlyn as hard as one of Vi's nasty right hooks. She flinches.
“You don’t get it,” Vi mutters, voice low but sharp. “You act like I don’t exist the second someone else is around. I walk behind you so no one asks questions. Do you know what that feels like?”
Caitlyn exhales through her nose sharply, her fingers tightening around the notebook she was holding. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” Vi scoffs. “You don’t even look at me when we’re at school. I say something, and you barely respond. I feel like some dirty little secret, Cait.”
Jinx raises an eyebrow, looking into an invisible camera. Ooooh.
Caitlyn hesitates. “Vi, it’s not—”
She pauses, and Jinx ducks out of the way when she glances around anxiously, like someone from the school journal is going to pop out of the trash can and snap a picture of them for the headline: HEARTTHROB PRINCESS CAITLYN KIRAMMAN SPOTTED FRATERNISING WITH VIOLENT DELINQUENT!
"Vi," Caitlyn exhales, clutching her books to her chest. She sounds desperate. "Let's not do this here—"
Vi lets out a hollow laugh, raw and disbelieving. “Of course not. Wouldn’t want anyone to see, right?”
Caitlyn flinches, her perfect mask cracking. “That’s not—”
“Then why?” Vi cuts in, her voice softer now, almost vulnerable. “Why can’t you just—”
She stops, then shakes her head like she hates herself for even asking.
"Violet..." Caitlyn begs, but she does not say anything else.
Jinx shifts awkwardly behind the wall. Well, this has taken a turn. She almost wants to go back to the art classroom and pretend nothing has happened, but something in her persists, tells her to stand still till it is over.
She'd thought it was stupid, watching those 2000s chick-flicks where teenage couples act as if the whole world is ending when their parents or the highschool hierarchy tears them apart. But looking at Vi and Caitlyn now—this shimmering, messy, teenage kind of tension that preludes a huge fucking disaster—Jinx thinks that maybe, the films have some truth.
Vi is the first to walk away.
And Caitlyn stays, watching her go, fingers twitching like she wants to reach out but can’t.
Or won’t.
Jinx doesn't stick around to watch her leave. She slips back into the art room, frowning, because she’d seen enough breakups to know one when it was happening, even without the words being spoken.
❦
The infuriating thing is that Jinx starts to get it.
Caitlyn Kiramman has a reputation to uphold. Babies aren't born with sticks up their asses, even if they do have a silver spoon in their mouth. But somewhere between her popping out of the womb with that ridiculous caramel hair and green jellybean eyes, Caitlyn has had the weight of all the expectations of her parents, her friends, and all those other prissy people in the higher echelons of society placed upon her back like a heavy cape, suffocating her, forcing her to keep the truth of certain things down.
Jinx sees why it makes her the way she is with Vi. Her sister thinks it's shame, when really, it's the farthest thing from it.
Caitlyn is scared.
She's the golden girl, the top student with perfect hair and perfect grades. All things considered, she belongs in this school in a way Vi and Jinx never have.
And being with Vi— liking Vi—puts her in a precarious position. It's not just the whispers or the side glances, but the stain that an outsider and rebel like Vi would be on her flawless reputation.
The thought makes something in Jinx's chest twist; something akin to loathing bubbling towards the other girl.
She can understand where she's coming from, sure, but that doesn't mean she has to like it. And Jinx has never liked Caitlyn. The girl is too perfect, too pristine, too much like everything Vi isn't supposed to want. Topside and bottom; oil and water; they just don't mix.
And yet, Vi likes her.
Maybe even the other L-word too, but Jinx cannot let herself think about it. Everything about it screams disaster, like bad, bad, bad . She watches her sister sink deeper, willingly tangling in all of Caitlyn's secrets and lies, and thinks that their end was inevitable.
❦
Her sister mourns her disaster of a relationship at their old spot on an abandoned rooftop by their tiny apartment, legs dangling over the edge as she leans against the creaking railing. A bottle stolen from their father's liquor cabinet dangles from her fingers, and Jinx swipes it for a sip when she comes to plop down next to her.
The silence hangs heavy over them, melancholic and somber.
“...So. That bad, huh?” Jinx finally says.
Vi doesn't answer.
Jinx leans her weight back on her palms, staring at the sky. “If you keep acting like Caitlyn’s ashamed of you, you’re gonna lose her.”
“She is ashamed of me,” Vi mutters, snatching the bottle back. “I mean, look at her—she’s perfect. I’m just some street rat she sneaks around with. She doesn’t even want people to know about us.”
"She's a wuss, that's what," Jinx scoffs. "But she likes you. Trust me."
"How could she?" Vi asks. There's no quip to her tone, no bite—just a solemn air about her, like she's already given up. "I'm just me, Jinx. There's nothing much to this."
Something in Jinx's chest twists at that, a sick churning at her stomach. The self-depreciation makes her skin itch to break something, to grab her sister by the shoulders and shake the stupid out of her, because Vi might have a hell of a right hook and more love than a human being can logically possess, but she's dumb as bricks when it comes to the love that is given to her.
She exhales slowly, tucking her knees to her chest. Quietly, she leans over to rest her head against her sister's bicep, frowning at the streetlights flickering underneath them.
"You know," Jinx says, her voice quiet. "You're a lot easier to love than you think, sis."
Vi says nothing, just tips the bottle and spills its contents into her mouth.
Jinx sits with her for the rest of the night.
❦
Jinx catches Caitlyn haunting the empty music room like a forlorn ghost only two days after the incident, jaw tight as she stares at the ivory keys like they'd done her a great injustice.
The older girl looks up when the door makes a loud creaking noise as it's eased open. There’s something raw in her expression when she sees Jinx—not just as the resident vandal and troublemaker, but Vi's sister.
“Did Vi send you?” Caitlyn asks. There's some bitterness there, towards Jinx, no doubt because of the countless times she'd been the unfortunate victim of one of the girl's pranks—and hope , at the thought of even just the tiniest piece of Vi coming back to her.
Jinx tilts her head, pushing off the doorway to perch herself atop one of the few desks. “Nah. Just here for the drama.”
Caitlyn exhales sharply, something like a scoff but not quite. Too weak; too much like she's given up on something.
“Of course you are.”
They sit in silence for a moment, the weight of something unspoken hanging between them.
Then Caitlyn speaks, her voice small.
“She won’t even look at me anymore.”
“Can you blame her?" Jinx shrugs. "She thinks you’re embarrassed to be seen with her.”
Caitlyn’s face twists, hurt flashing across it like a flicker of lightning.
“That’s not—” she stops herself, exhaling. “That’s not true.”
But Vi isn't an idiot. She had recognised the contingency from the very beginning, knew that she was dooming herself to something that would break her heart. And maybe she decided to stay, at first, because she thought that Caitlyn wanted her. But then it went on and on, and there seemed to be no way out.
It's why it was Vi who pulled away first. Because it's easier to be the one who leaves than the one who gets left behind, and because she’d thought that Caitlyn cared little enough to live without her, to be the one that was left behind.
Clearly not, Jinx thinks as she watches the girl mope alone by the piano, a sad, pathetic shadow of her posh and pastel self. She's certainly not illegally drowning herself in liquor, but it's still a pitiful sight. Her voice softens when she thinks of Vi, her hands twitching like they're still fighting to reach out for a girl who is no longer there.
God, Jinx needs them to get the hell over themselves.
"I don't hate her," Caitlyn says, her voice wobbling dangerously. "God, I could never. How could I?"
“Well,” she huffs, hopping off the desk she’s been perched on. “Better tell her that soon. Prom is in three days.”
Caitlyn doesn’t answer, but something shifts in her expression—like a door cracking open just enough to let the light in.