[ he’s holding a soapy teacup when jinx blitzes in, eyes gritty and achy from no sleep and private tears widening at her sudden close presence. his expression settles back into its usual neutrality, plucking the cigarette from his mouth with wet fingers. ]

You always do the dishes for nothing.

[ maybe she thinks she’s seen him worse than this — crying on the floor, dying a slow death in her arms — but this? this is the worst. this is the worst he’s ever felt since he’s been here, certainly since he’s met her. he felt closer to nami than ever last night, stitched back together by their shared loss. but he knows her patterns and can feel the threads stretching taut, silent, as she struggles to pull away.

the last tears he shed were five minutes ago, when jinx said she wasn’t coming to work. it’d felt like one of her bombs exploding in his face. like i don’t want you. like i can disappear too. ]

I’ve meant everything I’ve said to you. [ a drag of smoke. ] Even when I called you a shitty little loquat.

[ he traces the line of her temple with his wet fingers, all the way down to her jaw, and marvels that he can still feel anything, that his heart can still pump blood despite the gaping hole in his chest. she’s warm, pulsing energy. here. ]