CHAPTER TEN
Jonas is quiet as Alex goes to check her phone, that smile still on his face while he goes through the motions, washing and rinsing and repeating the motions until he's cleaned nearly all of the plates and pans he'd dirtied in the process of making them both food. Midway through the last batch of dishes she says his name, but it doesn't sound right. It's still her, still Alex, even if the timbre is off and her tone trembles. Slowly, Jonas turns, one eyebrow raised in confusion and face twisted in concern.
"Alex, what-" And she's kissing him. She's kissing him, and that doesn't make sense — well, not to Jonas — because it's only been a few days and sure she's been flirting with him for half of it but she'd helped him take a girl home and it doesn't add up. At all. He drops the plate he was washing onto the ground, the way it shatters knocking him out of whatever she's trying to start. His hands grab onto her shoulders, push her away enough for him to get a good look at her, and oh no that isn't good. It makes alarm bells go off in his head. He doesn't let go of Alex, breath heavy in his chest.
Is it something with her friends? Her father? No, she'd said he'd stopped talking to her— her mother, then? But none of that makes sense. He can't come up with a good explanation or excuse that would end up making her act like she is. The blond and his girlfriend, or what looked like his girlfriend, seemed like good influences. Mostly good influences. Influences. God, he can't even come up with that much. Jonas is going through the motions, wracking his brain for things that set him off, how they might match up with her, but this isn't the way he went about things. They are two different people, and he knew that. He knows that. There has to be something.
So, he takes a more direct route. His head tips just a bit to the side, and there's only concern in his voice, but the confusion is a present note when he gently squeezes one of her shoulders. "Alex— Look, I dunno if it's my place to ask— What's wrong?"
.
Alex isn't quite hyperventilating, but she's still in panic mode, her breath too heavy, heart racing, and body too eerily still for the chaos currently rampant inside her. Everything is dial tones and heartbeats, an ache in her head and a hollow in her chest.
He pushed her away.
It kind of hurts. The rejection doesn't hurt as much as his concern. All she does is shake her head for a second before she can speak, voice throaty. "Nothing's wrong." Fuck.
She can't even seduce him. She doesn't know him well enough, just knows that whatever she's done hasn't worked. The thought brings a bitter chuckle to her lips. "God. What more do I have to do? I'm here, and I'm more than willing, and I'm already basically naked apart from your clothes— Just fuck me already, Jonas." Why is she in pain? How much of that is in her head? "One night stand," she assures him. "We never have to see each other again. I'll delete your number from my phone, never come back to the Kanaloa." Just give me this. Please.
Alex shakes her head, letting out a weak huff of laughter, a distant part of her not even surprised by her own desperation, smoothing a hand over his chest while the other grabs for his grip on her shoulder, massaging his wrist, stroking his forearm. Turning her head she tastes his skin on open lips, speaking against him, her voice every flavor of sex she can summon. "One night," she murmurs the promise, eyes falling shut again. "Whatever you want." Every trick in her arsenal she's pulling out, the teasing touches, the lean towards him, as much as she can manage before his hands are holding her back. The pressure is good.
No shame. No time for it. She's too desperate for that. A desperation that may well be visible when she glances up at him from under her lashes, a look dripping with heat and need as she kisses his skin. "Please, angel." She's too quiet, too honest— her eyes soft, melted; wax seeping into cracks that weren't there a day ago. "Touch me." Her other hand mirrors the first, hooked over the hand on her other shoulder, thumb running over his skin, trying to pull his hand down her body. The blessing of her not-exactly-lingerie outfit - in this instance anyway - is the way the dampened fabric clings to the few curves she has, making it obvious that— well, that she means what she's begging for.
Anything. Any intimacy. She doesn't care. She doesn't want to care about anything, to think about anything besides the physical. Lost in sensation. Lost in her body - his body - instead of her mind. Lips press to his skin again before she rests her cheek against him, eyes closing, voice hoarse. "Please say yes."
.
He shouldn't be struggling with this. Hell, he shouldn't even be here, technically. A whole lot of things could have been avoided if he hadn't invited her in. If he hadn't gone dancing. If she hadn't checked her phone. But now— Now he doesn't know what he's doing, because Alex is… Fuck. She's saying things he wants, he thinks he wants, and things he definitely does not want to go through. It's all melting together in his head, like the room just keeps spinning and spinning and spinning, but he's rooted to the spot. Because what was that? What is this? Why is he— Just why.
Jonas is guilty and wanting and concerned and confused all at the same time. Nothing feels like it should. Her mouth is numbing, hands on his body making him go ram-rod straight as he tries to convince himself of something. Anything. One part of his mind is screaming at him that this isn't right, that it'd be taking advantage of her, that something is clearly wrong and he needs to get to the fucking bottom of it. But the other, carnal portion just wants. Just hungers.
He's frozen, for a while. But his grip loosens. Jonas can't tell if he's thinking too far into this or not thinking about it at all, if he's even thinking. Around him the world still moves, and Alex is still right there, but something isn't clicking in his head. Nothing is clicking in his head, actually because what the fuck is he even doing? He should be better than this. He is better than this— and so is she. That might be it. Alex is so much better than this, even if she sometimes seems like a wreck, and of all things to go and do she tries to fuck him and then cut him off. Jonas doesn't understand that at all.
His mouth opens, but he's not speaking. Even if he did know what to say, it would probably come out wrong, either from fumbling on the words or from whatever has a stranglehold on his mind. Which is just— amazing, really, it's great; silence is usually better anyways. It's some automatic part of him that makes Jonas shake her grip off, back up further into the kitchen, and try to get himself together. Something from his past kicking into high gear again. But this time it isn't because he's about to beat someone into kingdom come, which again doesn't make sense to him, because why would anything ever make sense. God fucking damn it.
.
He's quiet for too long. Alex swallows hard, finally has the courage to look at him, and her pulse speeds again, eyes lighting up because it feels like she might have him, like she's so close to— something. His mouth opens and hers does too, mirroring, leaning toward him because - god she just needs, and here's someone to need with, and her eyes keep flicking to his lips…
And then he's stepping away. Her brows furrow for a second, confused and hurt and angry. Arms cross over her middle, tangling with the hem of his shirt on her body, swallowing hard as she straightens her back and raises her chin. So he hates her. Is that what this is? He's disgusted by her? Fine. A hatefuck. Whatever. It hurts, sure, but she's so intent on numbing herself that her own bitterness soothes her.
She slips a hand under the shirt to curve around her waist, needing the heat and pressure, holding on tight like she could ever be capable of grounding herself. "You… think I'm crazy. You— I'm—" Alex shakes her head, eyes squeezed shut, trying to get her words straight. "I'm not—" Her fingers dig into her side, trying to drag herself back to reality.
The look she levels on him is guarded, but intense. "Jonas, I want you." Her thighs are pressed hard together, hips shifting anxiously. He's too good. Too good for her. Can't last. Her eyes wander over him. "Just say yes." He hasn't said no. "I want—" She's interrupted by a noise - a kind of whimpered moan that comes out more scared than she could ever have anticipated. "Your mouth, and your hands, and—" Her thumb is kneading at the ridge of her hip, and if he's not gonna touch her well fuck she might as well touch herself.
The thought only gives her a half-second's pause before her elbow pulls back, raising the hem of his shirt a couple inches, the hand beneath running across her stomach for him to watch. "Anything you want," she promises. "My mouth, and my hands— anything." She swallows again, steeling herself to walk forward. "Whatever you want to do to-"
With a yelp - sudden and unexpected - Alex is whimpering through gritted teeth, stumbling against the cabinets and sliding down to the floor. "Fuck-" It's not just the sharp pain in her foot, but the blow to her pride (she may not have dignity, but she does have pride) that has her hissing breaths trying not to cry, glaring at the foot she's got clutched in her hand, at the thin laceration slicing across her heel, the slight glint of tiny glass splinters in and around it.
.
There's nothing like an injury to snap him out of his stupor. Jonas berates himself; first for being too sluggish to stop it, and then remembering why he was so slow in the first place, moving over to Alex without hesitation to look over her foot. He's avoiding broken glass himself, sweeping it into a pile as best he can while he goes along. The cuts don't look too terrible, but they're soon bleeding a fair bit, and he's still cursing himself out in his mind for being stupid enough to let something like this happen. Direct cause. Well, maybe not direct, but he had been the one to drop the fucking plate and not get to it instantly. Like an idiot. Because he learned this.
.
Alex's face is going red as soon as he's coming to her rescue. Fuck. She's just— nothing. She's nothing. He doesn't want her, no one wants her, she's going nowhere, just a mistake wrapped in an accident wrapped in a catastrophe and oh god. She's not crying. She's not going to let herself cry. Just stares at nothing, focused on nothing, eyelids fluttering and face vaguely concerned - the tiniest crease between her brows, lips tight, trying not to look as hurt as she is.
.
He can make excuses all he wants later. Right now, he has to get the glass out of Alex's foot. And also not step on glass while he moves around. Easier said than done, when he's focusing on about fifteen things at once and more than a bit out of it. "Careful, this is gonna be a weird shift-" The first words that come out of him are rocky and slow, but it doesn't stop him from looping his arms around her again and tugging her up off of the ground. "There we go. Okay."
.
A weird shift. She lets out a weak, bitter laugh. Yeah. Couldn't be weirder. Alex wants to wrap her arms around his neck, help him carry her, wants to take her usual joy in getting lifted by someone bigger and stronger than her, but she can't. She knows she'll be tempted to go further, and she can't touch him like that, not when he's made it clear enough. He doesn't want her, no one wants her, she's going nowhere, just a mistake wrapped in— The mantra comes again, unwelcome. Her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, pressing her face to his shoulder, stealing this little moment of intimacy while he can't pull away. His hands are firm and warm and she needs them so much right now.
.
One step down. Who knows how many to go. Well, this is what she'd joked about beforehand. Getting hoisted. Probably not in this context, because Alex is bleeding and he's kind of freaking out, but he gets there. He gets there. Jonas puts her down on the tiled floor of the bathroom, settling himself after grabbing what small medical supplies he has stuffed into the back of his cabinets. Some bandages, pain medicine, tweezers (because he's going to need those when he tries to get the glass out), and rubbing alcohol (which he probably doesn't need, but fuck it, it's there) all dumped onto the ground as he kicks her foot up onto one of his knees.
.
He lets go too soon, setting her onto the bathroom floor, propped up against the side of the bathtub, and she feels adrift again. Eyes falling shut, she tilts her head back, breathing, hands flexing into nervous fists at her side. It doesn't hurt that much. Not really. It's a shitty place to be cut, though. Gonna be a pain to get to work. Walking will suck. Biking is still doable, though, as long as she stays using the balls of her feet instead of her heels. Alex's eyes are still dry, even if they burn a little.
His hands on her ankle are a surprise, eliciting a small noise from her, eyes snapping open as she shifts a bit to help him get closer. God. This is… pathetic. Needy. Clingy. Desperate. Fuck. She hasn't felt this touch-starved in ages. Watching him warily, too much want in her gaze, Alex swallows any words she might say. He doesn't want her. No one wants her. Alex flinches as the words repeat, gritting her teeth and flicking her eyes to the floor. Stop it.
.
For a long time, Jonas is just trying to stem the blood flow, using a stray washcloth to dab away the liquid where he can until it starts slowing down. He won't be able to get out any glass if the surface he's working with is slick.
When he finally gets around to cleaning up her foot, it isn't as bad as he originally thought. Sure, she has some splinters of glass stuck into the wound, but other than that the cuts aren't terribly deep. Which is both relieving and confusing. Alex reacts like it hurts a lot worse than it should based on the injury— But then again, she had just… basically begged him for sex after some something triggered her into randomly kissing him. So there's probably more at play here than just some stabbing of skin.
"Just for the record," Jonas's voice comes out a bit softer than he means it to, but that's fine. The silence doesn't feel as broken as it should. Just a ripple in the screen when he adjusts how her foot is laying on his knee, trying to see how badly the glass had jammed up into the cut. "I don't think you're crazy. Crazed, maybe, but that's a different bag. And I don't think it came about all on its own."
.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Why is he so nice to her? It's not to get into her pants, obviously, so why? Does he— does he pity her? Alex shakes her head, pulling herself forward to rest her forehead against her knees, fingers digging into her hair in a position not quite rolled up into a ball. Every answer on the tip of her tongue is full of bile and vitriol - all aimed at herself, of course - but she swallows them. Not helpful. Not right now.
She scoots a little closer, enough that her uninjured foot is touching his leg, a little more human contact. A long breath out. Okay. "I'm just-" Her voice is too broken, and she clears her throat, glad to be speaking to the ground, to have her face hidden. "I'm fine." Lie. Shit. "I mean. Not fine. But I'll handle it." Eventually. "Things are— I just really really need to be touched, Jonas, I'm sorry."
It's not fair to him, for her to throw herself at him like that. Her fingers dig into the back of her head in small circles, self-soothing. "You shouldn't— you don't have to—" Alex swallows, head shaking minutely. "I should go." Of course, she doesn't make any move to leave. It's just an intention. Once she's bandaged up. "I'll call a ride, get out of your hair." Of course, that means she'll need her phone. Fuck.
.
Jonas gives her an almost annoyed look, though it's dimmed with worry, as he starts gently removing glass from the cut, placing it off to the side in another, cleaner washcloth. "Yeah, no. Alex, I'm not just gonna leave you to your own devices here. Especially not after— whatever all of that was." Then again, he isn't about to call the cops on her for breaking down, either. That'd be insane. And he knows too well what happens if they come at the wrong time. "If you don't wanna talk about it, that's your choice. I'm not gonna go prying. But you should probably just rest."
That, and keeping her here lets him keep a bit of an eye on her. He can offer comfort, he can offer a place to sleep, but he can't quite offer… that. At least, not now. Not while she's still so raw with feeling, not while she's doing her best to just push off whatever happened in the kitchen. Not now. Jonas does his best to wipe off one of his hands, having removed most of the bigger slivers of glass out from underneath her skin. Once it's fairly bloodless, he places it on top of one of her own still tracing circles into skin, repeating the motion on the back of her hand.
.
So nice. Too nice. Alex's jaw clenches, trying to force sense back into herself. She feels way too weak, too vulnerable. What the fuck is wrong with her. No— no, now isn't the time for self-hate. Now is the time for self-awareness. Get ahold of yourself, Alex. She's about to say something, to attempt to make a joke, though she's not sure what it is yet, when he touches her hand, his arm close enough to radiate heat, to feel almost protective. Her throat closes, joke gone, and she's biting her tongue because she isn't going to cry. The words are almost lost, buried against her skin, so quiet. "...Thank you."
She's so focused on not grabbing onto his hand, holding onto him, that she can't stop her anxiety surfacing other ways, toes pointing and flexing nervously. Energy has to go somewhere.
.
"What are you thanking me for now?" Jonas does his best not to smile, even if he doesn't really manage, the corners of his lips turning upward when she doesn't push him away. Instead, he just keeps doing what he's doing. Tends to the wound, chides her for moving her toes around when he needs her to keep her feet still, easing out the last of the glass before going to bandage the cuts.
It's kind of a struggle to do one handed, but he doesn't want to let go of her. At least, not yet. Because it looks like she needs the contact, and he doesn't mind in the slightest, which means until she yells at him he's sticking around for her. Looks like he's giving up his bed, since she'll need that. Another thing Jonas doesn't mind. He's crashed on his couch enough that he nearly always has a blanket and some pillows nearby, just for the sake of either not wanting to get up or coming home so late - or early - that he flopped onto the nearest surface.
.
Alex is never this quiet. Not unless she's sleeping, really. Or on public transportation. She's matched her movements to his, like she's translating his touch to her own scalp. She shifts her hips a little, a tiny bit guilty, when he gets on her case about moving her foot. Hey, I'm doing remarkably well for someone with incredibly ticklish feet, okay? Like, really laudable. Even if she doesn't say it, the fact that a snarky retort popped into her head feels like a good sign.
He's about done bandaging up her foot when Alex tilts her head, eyes poking up over her legs, even if the rest of her face is still hidden. She doesn't want to, but she drops her hands - and therefore his hand - to come around her shins, examining his work. A weak half-smile curves her lips, and she stretches her neck a bit, resting her chin on her knee. "Not the prettiest, but I guess it'll do." It's mostly a mumble, but it's a start.
She can only catch his eyes for a second before she's looking down at her hands. "Thanks, angel." There's no lack of sincerity in her voice, no matter how quiet it is. "For everything." She lets out a breath that goes on too long. "...You're too nice to me."
.
When he moves her foot back onto the ground so that he can get up and start putting things away, disposing of the glass, his eyes roll just a bit at her half quip, that soft smile coming back up onto his face. Good signs. All good signs, if she's well enough to start throwing snark at him. After doing his best to rinse out the washcloth in the sink, along with scrubbing his hands of whatever blood was left, Jonas reaches down to run a hand through her hair before he's back on the ground. This time, he's next to her, rather than across. "If I'm too nice, you'd be practically bullying me, Alex. This is just… kinda how I show people I care, I guess. Since I'm not good with words."
They don't have to get up fully for a little while longer. They can hang around on the bathroom floor until she needs to sleep, or until he feels portions of his body going numb, though he might be better about that than normal. He's mostly worried about what might happen if she tries to walk on her foot right now.
.
She turns her face up at Jonas's hand in her hair, still watching at him - giving him a vaguely bemused look - as he sits beside her. What the hell does that mean? The words, the touch, all of it. Despite Alex's better judgment - the part of her saying she's taking advantage of his hospitality, that she's violating his previously stated disinterest - she leans her arm up against his, too focused on the warmth that touch gives her.
How I show people I care. So he cares about her? Why? What on earth has she ever done to earn it? From anybody. She just shakes her head - half at him, half at herself - before leaning it against his shoulder. It's tempting to do so much more, but she has to stop herself. He's rejected her twice, she needs to learn to take a fucking hint. Still, she turns her face to sigh into his shirt.
It's only once she recognizes that that was probably her trying escalating things that she turns to face forward again, though she's still propped cheek-to-shoulder. "And I bet you thought I was only insane and handsy when I was drunk." It's spoken under her breath, but she knows he can hear it. "I'm sure that's a pleasant surprise," she deadpans. Even with her self-awareness, knowing she's toeing a line, she still loops her arm around his, curling herself toward him a little to hold on.
"...Sorry. I can stop, if you want." Probably.
.
"What I'd appreciate is less of you insulting yourself." Seriously. Jonas is frowning just a bit at her, though this time it's because of what she's saying, rather than her actions. There isn't a reason for him to pull away when she clearly needs the contact and he isn't spoken for, so he raises his hand up to hold onto one of her wrists, thumb rubbing over the hollow point where the joint meets the arm. Alex needs something grounding, clearly, which means he's going to take over that job until she either finds something better or calms down.
The contact is probably good. Based off of the fact that she isn't trying to hit on him again, she just uses it for comfort, or as a grounding thing. Something he'd admit to doing, sometimes. Even if he rarely got this much contact within a short amount of time. It's almost nice. It'd be nicer if Alex hadn't just freaked out and he didn't know why, which is making him worry, and the whole— Everything that happened in the kitchen is still making him kind of guilty— It's all just weird. Jonas feels like he's been shoved through a couple of rollercoasters in the past… what, fifteen minutes? Half hour? Something like that, he isn't quite sure.
.
Alex is staring at a spot on the grout between tiles on the bathroom wall. For a second she's silent, then lets out a sigh, closing her eyes. "Yeah." Her voice is quiet. Tired. "Me too." Either too many excuses or too much self-loathing. She never seems to find an in-between.
Jesus. She's exhausted. Like she's just been burning constantly and the wick is all but run out. Good. Sleep is hard, usually. It'll be a lot easier now.
Alex's breath evens out, steadying, and she's quiet for a long time.
A very long time.
Long enough for him to think she might've actually fallen asleep.
"I…" She thinks she might actually tell him what the hell is happening, but she's not entirely sure she knows, herself. It's not something she wants to dwell on, in any case. When she does talk, her words come out a drowsy mumble. "You were right. I should sleep." She's practically holding onto his arm like a teddy bear anyway, burying her face against him, words almost lost in the fabric. "And I'm totally stealing your bed."
.
"Yeah, I expected as much." His eyes roll, but it's good-natured when he reaches over enough to run a hand through her hair once more.
.
She really likes it when he does that, the hair-touching. Alex leans toward his hand, practically purring like a cat being pet. Not quite, but close.
.
Jonas adjusts his arm to gently slide it from her grasp in order to pick her up again. He still doesn't want her walking on that foot, and she doesn't weigh all that much, which means she gets hoisted again. He does his best not to snort at the fact. And then he feels even more guilty, because she said she'd break her legs just for him to do this for her, and that's kind of what happened. On a far smaller scale. Great.
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This time around she actually loops her arms around his neck to help him pick her up, though getting lifted brings a small smile to her face and a slight sleepy snicker. "There," her cheek is pressed against his shoulder again, nuzzling toward his neck, voice rough with her newfound exhaustion. "-You said you'd do it and now you've fulfilled your promise twice. Which means I owe you one."
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After managing to get out of the bathroom without hitting her limbs or head on the door frame, he carries her over to the bed, setting her down and starting to walk away. Taking the couch won't be terrible. Even if he's still in jeans and a tee. Just… mildly uncomfortable, maybe. He should change.
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Alex is most of the way to sleep already, but feels too cold when he sets her down in bed alone. Arms sliding down from around his neck, she grabs at his wrist. "Nop." That's not a word. "Nope. Staying." Her other hand pats at the empty side of the bed next to her, and then she's already curling up, bringing his hand with her into her little sleepy ball.
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Jonas has to bend a bit when she pulls at him, making a surprised noise before a smile comes up onto his face. "I will in a minute, Alex. But I am still kind of in clothes." Gently, he tugs his hand free from her, dragging covers up over her shoulders before starting for the kitchen. "And I need to clean up that glass completely."
Notes: God, Alex. She's... something. Anyway, this chapter may be one of my favorites. I'm really curious to know thoughts and reactions on this one. -Turner