He bites his fingernails now.
She's noticed it more and more these past few weeks. Ever since last spring, when she hid his cigarettes away in a last ditch attempt to save him from consuming obsession, he's been doing it. His nails are little more than sharp-edged nubs, the skin raw and bright red before hardening.
But it wasn't as bad as now. His thumbnail split yesterday, and she was the one who bandaged it tightly, so as to stop the incessant flood of crimson. He won't tell her what's bothering him, won't even look at her. What did she do wrong?
Nothing. As far as she knows.
"Julian!"
He stops, turns around. His face is stony. The green eyes that she knows so well are hard and unfeeling. Her parabatai is a stranger to her now.
She runs up to him. Grabs at his sleeve and twists so that he has to turn towards her.
"What's wrong with you?" Her voice is a hiss. "Why won't you talk to me?"
He laughs, and she flinches, because that harsh, biting sound is not the laugh of the Old Julian.
"When did you get so nosy, Emma?"
Heat builds up in her, a roiling mass of pure, molten anger. "Nosy? I'm your parabatai! I'm supposed to look after you!"
"Yeah," he says, rolling those beautiful eyes of his. "Look after me, not stalk me."
She's ready to blow. She'll scream, let out all her frustration. But instead, a warm tear slips down her cheek, and all the anger dissipates. She can't be mad, not at him. Not at her best friend.
More tears follow, and she turns away. Inside her chest, her young heart is shattering.
And then his arms are around her, and she breathes in his warm scent, acrylic paint and cinnamon and tart apples. Of everything about him, this one thing has not changed.
"Shh," he murmurs. "Shh, Emma. It's okay. Emma."
So his shirt is a bit sweaty, and maybe she's getting snot all over him, and maybe those jagged fingernails of his are cutting into her skin, but-
The sound of her name has never been sweeter.
ATTENTION:
All Jily Shippers must read Summer Magic by movinggirl