[Jasmine started her month feeling a bit she just got over a bad case of mono. The past couple of months seem weird in her mind, slightly off as if buried behind some kind of a fever, like she just wasn't acting right but can't understand why.
Even then, there are things that she remembers starkly. They're things she wishes were just as much part of the unclear haze.
She needs to see Clover as soon as she can. but there's someone else who'll want to go as well...someone who probably doesn't want to see her at all. Jasmine can only think of that, scornfully, even as autopilot brings her to Rose's apartment without hesitation.
She can't even meet Rose's gaze when she gets there, red eyes focused at her feet like a sulking child ashamed of what they've done wrong. Which is off, for Jasmine: Even as a child, knowing full well she was in trouble, she'd look up defiantly.]
[Rose never really knows what to expect when Jasmine comes to visit, but she feels that confusing surprise now more than ever. She opens the door warily, on guard yet ready to perhaps find out that she just imagined Jasmine—but there she is, looking more remorseful than... Ever, really. Than she's ever seen her.
It should probably be enough to convince her that this is the Jasmine she knows. The fact that she's even here outside her door and not sending another hostile text should probably be enough. But Rose doesn't know for sure, does she? Maybe that girl, that stranger, suddenly just had an epiphany and realized an apology was in order.
Fat chance of that, she thinks. Still, she doesn't dare to be hopeful. Selfishly, she wants her little sister back no matter how much better that stranger's life might have been, but she's not used to getting what she wants either. It's easier to be rejected than disappointed yet again.]
What— [What the hell do you want? She cuts herself off, tries again. Even that single word had more anger than she wanted, no matter how the hurt still lingers from that last conversation.] What are you doing here?
[Jasmine doesn't flinch at the harshness of Rose's greeting, but she does swallow hard before acting. She still doesn't look up at her. It's embarrassing that she doesn't, but Jasmine can't even force herself to lift her chin. It wobbles a little, though, as if she's struggling with words or simply trembling.
Normally, Jasmine tightly controls her personal space. She rarely touches others, especially without forewarning, and it's even rarer that she puts herself in that position. Today, though, she quickly pushes past the apartment door and throws herself at her sister to hug her tightly.]
[There's a moment where she freezes, doesn't even breathe, because she doesn't quite believe this is real. It seems more natural to assume this is some kind of dream, delusion even, when she honestly can't remember the last time Jasmine hugged her. Physical affection's been off the table for a long, long time, even before things fell apart.
But for as awkwardly as she lifts her arms to hug her little sister back, it all comes back to her naturally. She hugs Jasmine just as tightly, slowly stroking her hair down with a hand like she used to when they were kids. The way she would when her sister would wake her up at night because of a bad dream, as rare as that was. This was much worse than any simple nightmare, but like this, it's easy enough to think that's all it was.]
[There are still too many walls up for Jasmine to cry. It's been so long since she cried in front of anyone else, some days she isn't even sure that she can anymore.
She sniffles once to tamp down that emotion, but as Rose strokes her hair, her embrace tightens.
As if it wasn't surreal enough, the admission that leaves her lips next is almost unheard of.] I don't know what to do.
[It's almost frightening to hear that confession. Jasmine always knows what to do, or if she doesn't, she sure as hell never admits it, bluffing her way through every argument or problem as if that was what she meant to do the whole time. It makes her hold her tighter, as if that would be enough to protect her from how lost she is, how awful this situation is, everything.]
Neither do I. [She won't tell her what she should or shouldn't do. All she can say is:] You don't have to do anything.
[Rose doesn't even expect an apology because for as much as it hurt, for as different as that Jasmine was, wasn't there some truth to what she said, too? If the choice is between Zero and One, then I know what I'd choose. She'd pick the same, if she could. Maybe her sister wouldn't treat her quite as callously as that stranger did, but she's sure her feelings on Zero must be the same.]
[She responds so quickly that it almost seems defensive, even when it isn't. Jasmine turns her face against Rose's shoulder, cheek pressed into her shirt. She feels over-hot.] If I don't...
If I don't, then I might not learn the answer in time. [What happened to Clover will happen to all of them. They're all bombs built up in the shape of girls.] I don't want us to be them.
[(She's close to Zero now, close enough to kill her. She could end it before it started.)
Her own brain makes her jerk, suddenly tense in Rose's arms. That's not something she wants, not right now.]
[We won't. She swallows the lump in her throat because it's not so easy to say that anymore. They've all tried, done everything they could to separate themselves from the Intoners, but look at what happened to Clover. What's to say that couldn't happen to the rest of them? None of them can guarantee anything. It's why she ignores how Jasmine tenses up, thinking (hoping) it's only because of how terrifying this situation is.]
I don't either. We don't have to be. [She settles for that instead, tries to tell herself she really does believe it. That they don't have to be them, they don't have to end up like how they did, because the alternative is—too unfair, too unjust, too unreasonable. The world has never been kind, Rose knows that deep in her bones, but how could it be acceptable for that to be the answer? She can't stand the idea of it.] What we're doing right now is already something they could never do.
[That, if nothing else, is the objective truth. Never in a million years would Zero and One reconcile. It's proof that they can be better than them.
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action; beginning of the month
Even then, there are things that she remembers starkly. They're things she wishes were just as much part of the unclear haze.
She needs to see Clover as soon as she can. but there's someone else who'll want to go as well...someone who probably doesn't want to see her at all. Jasmine can only think of that, scornfully, even as autopilot brings her to Rose's apartment without hesitation.
She can't even meet Rose's gaze when she gets there, red eyes focused at her feet like a sulking child ashamed of what they've done wrong. Which is off, for Jasmine: Even as a child, knowing full well she was in trouble, she'd look up defiantly.]
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It should probably be enough to convince her that this is the Jasmine she knows. The fact that she's even here outside her door and not sending another hostile text should probably be enough. But Rose doesn't know for sure, does she? Maybe that girl, that stranger, suddenly just had an epiphany and realized an apology was in order.
Fat chance of that, she thinks. Still, she doesn't dare to be hopeful. Selfishly, she wants her little sister back no matter how much better that stranger's life might have been, but she's not used to getting what she wants either. It's easier to be rejected than disappointed yet again.]
What— [What the hell do you want? She cuts herself off, tries again. Even that single word had more anger than she wanted, no matter how the hurt still lingers from that last conversation.] What are you doing here?
no subject
Normally, Jasmine tightly controls her personal space. She rarely touches others, especially without forewarning, and it's even rarer that she puts herself in that position. Today, though, she quickly pushes past the apartment door and throws herself at her sister to hug her tightly.]
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But for as awkwardly as she lifts her arms to hug her little sister back, it all comes back to her naturally. She hugs Jasmine just as tightly, slowly stroking her hair down with a hand like she used to when they were kids. The way she would when her sister would wake her up at night because of a bad dream, as rare as that was. This was much worse than any simple nightmare, but like this, it's easy enough to think that's all it was.]
no subject
She sniffles once to tamp down that emotion, but as Rose strokes her hair, her embrace tightens.
As if it wasn't surreal enough, the admission that leaves her lips next is almost unheard of.] I don't know what to do.
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Neither do I. [She won't tell her what she should or shouldn't do. All she can say is:] You don't have to do anything.
[Rose doesn't even expect an apology because for as much as it hurt, for as different as that Jasmine was, wasn't there some truth to what she said, too? If the choice is between Zero and One, then I know what I'd choose. She'd pick the same, if she could. Maybe her sister wouldn't treat her quite as callously as that stranger did, but she's sure her feelings on Zero must be the same.]
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[She responds so quickly that it almost seems defensive, even when it isn't. Jasmine turns her face against Rose's shoulder, cheek pressed into her shirt. She feels over-hot.] If I don't...
If I don't, then I might not learn the answer in time. [What happened to Clover will happen to all of them. They're all bombs built up in the shape of girls.] I don't want us to be them.
[(She's close to Zero now, close enough to kill her. She could end it before it started.)
Her own brain makes her jerk, suddenly tense in Rose's arms. That's not something she wants, not right now.]
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I don't either. We don't have to be. [She settles for that instead, tries to tell herself she really does believe it. That they don't have to be them, they don't have to end up like how they did, because the alternative is—too unfair, too unjust, too unreasonable. The world has never been kind, Rose knows that deep in her bones, but how could it be acceptable for that to be the answer? She can't stand the idea of it.] What we're doing right now is already something they could never do.
[That, if nothing else, is the objective truth. Never in a million years would Zero and One reconcile. It's proof that they can be better than them.
Right?]