[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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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?]