NINE
Every turn he makes is the opposite direction of any groups of people. He manages to guide them, somehow, toward a deserted housing development. Maybe the money ran out, maybe the crew's on strike, maybe they just don't work Mondays - whatever it is, it's abandoned. One show house, a bunch of empty lots, and two projects mid-construction. The important thing is no teens getting out of class, no parents on their way to pick up younger kids, no suburban wives jogging their little dogs around the block.
He does a couple circuits of the empty neighborhood, trying to determine exactly how creepy this behavior is. Probably very? It makes sense, in an odd way, but that's just 'cause… well, 'cause it's her. She's already mostly insane, he's just… matching it. And it's kinda a relief, to be honest. Whatever their deal is, she's about as open and honest as she can get, and he's just trying to keep up. Even if openness isn't exactly his forte.
It's midway through the third round of lot-lot-lot-house-construction that he cracks a small smile, realizing why this idea had popped into his head in the first place. Stories from his mom, talking about how for a solid half a year as a baby Jonas was impossible to put to sleep unless he was driven around for a minimum of eight minutes. After that he was an angel, apparently (though he can never really take his mom's word on stuff like that), but the car was the key to happy sleep. "We paid for your gas then, you have to help pay for it now." That had been the whole context of the conversation. Speaking of which…
The fuel gauge says a quarter tank, and that's plenty to get back and forth to school a few times, but if this is gonna become a regular occurrence he's gonna have to preserve what he can. And maybe pick up some more odd jobs. Jonas pulls the truck to the side of the road in front of the shell of a house, shifting into park and then turning off the engine. Curious eyes flick over to the blue-haired girl asleep in his passenger seat. A regular occurrence? Why should it become a regular occurrence?
Yeah, no, more of this whole 'watching her sleep' deal - too weird, not gonna happen.
He pops open the driver side door, pauses for a second. The phone in his pocket had buzzed a couple times on their drive. He checks it. 4:08. He glances back to Alex. Dismisses the calendar reminders for his 4:30 class. And hey, fuck it - if he's already behaving badly… He reaches into the backpack lodged between them, worming his fingers past the loose papers and pens and crushed syllabi to pluck out the pack of cigarettes stashed under it all. Might as well.
Jumping down from the cab, he plucks a smoke from the pack, before slipping the rest into his back pocket, digging for his lighter. His eyes wander the construction site, and he kicks up a bit of dust as he heads for the scaffolding. He spends a few minutes wandering the unfinished house, scuffing his feet against temporary flooring and trying not to fall down open stairways. It takes some careful maneuvering with a cigarette held precariously between tight lips, but he manages to get up into the attic, where the roof is still unfinished. This would be miserable in the rain. For now it's nice, though.
He perches on the junction of roof and scaffold, perilously balanced, until he's done smoking, then stubs the butt out on the nearest rafter before flicking it out toward an empty pool basin in the backyard. For a long minute he just taps his fingers against the aluminum scaffold, then finally takes in a long breath and begins to climb down.
.
It starts out fine. It starts out normal, almost, when she drifts into unconsciousness. But she still doesn't understand the context. Ren, Nona, Clarissa and herself are playing truth or slap. They're on the beach at Edwards Island. Just some dream she conjured up for herself using faces she knows, places she recognizes. Easy. There's someone in the back, too - an imposing figure leaned against the fence to the caves. His face is tipped toward the ground, enough to show some features, but not enough to put a name to a person. Cut jaw, broad shoulders, green jacket.
There isn't any sound. It's the first thing that tips Alex off. People are talking, she's talking, but there isn't any sound coming from anywhere. She does her best not to panic. Not to let people know about it. She glances around the fire again. Her friends features have been replaced. They're just— they're just bodies, all staring at her, except for one. The taller boy in the back. Alex jumps onto her feet, runs, tries to get away, and finds herself wading into water.
But she'd been on the beach just before. She'd been running toward the caves, why was she wading out into— into a river? No. Into the ocean. Those nameless, faceless figures that used to be her friends, all stare. All watch. They do nothing to help. She keeps running. It shouldn't be possible, for her to run like she does underwater, but this is a dream. What is there to be explained? Alex's vision blacks out, and then she's completely submerged, stuck with her boots half buried in the sand.
A submarine rests just behind her, split in two, and now she hears it. A whine that turns into screaming, as she tips her head toward the surface, only to see a triangle. It's sides move like sound waves, jostling with each pitchy wail, and she drops onto her knees. Still staring. There isn't a way for her to speak. She opens her mouth, takes a breath, screams, makes no noise. Another breath, another attempt, and nothing. Nothing. That's what this is. A pocket of nothing, that is nowhere, and will never be.
Something has its hand around her throat. Now Alex can't breathe. She was before, she knows she was, but it isn't working now. She can't breathe. She is drowning. Lifted, weightless in the water, and the pressure builds in her head. No movement. No air. All pressure and hard grips and evil. Inhale salt and brine, try to exhale, only take in more. Her eyes burn, but they're still open, and she spots the boy again. He's looking up at her in horror. It's Jonas.
This time, when she screams, Alex jolts herself awake. It's wordless, and it comes out wrong, strangled with the fear that whatever had a hold of her in that nightmare still does. She undoes her seat belt with shaking hands, and keels over onto the dashboard, head pressed against the surface as her eyes squeeze shut. It wasn't real. It couldn't have been real.
.
Jonas is almost back to the truck when he hears a restless shifting. Brow furrowed, he ups his pace, watching the girl inside toss and turn, warily. He's halfway around to her side already when she rockets into wakefulness, a frenzied amalgamation of noises practically pulled from her throat. He doesn't even think about it, about how maybe kind of horribly creepy it is, the whole sudden screaming, just wrenches the passenger side door open, eyes wide.
"Alex—" He's got a hand on the first thing he can reach - her knee - and then he's clapped a grip on her shoulder. "Are you— are you hurt? What-" He pulls his hands away quickly, takes a step back, letting air move through the two open doors, give her some breathing room. "What happened?"
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Alex nearly kicks him before he's pulled away, striking blind at something that isn't there, shotgunning back into a sitting position to see who was touching her. And it's just Jonas. It's just Jonas, she doesn't know why she was so scared when it's just Jonas, but— it's probably her own vision playing tricks on her. That's what she wants to chalk it up to, when she stares at him and his eyes are red, and she screams again, backs into the truck as far as she can.
She covers her face again. It's not real, and she keeps telling herself that over and over again, but it's still there. It's still there and she can't understand why. Her shaking only worsens, but she tries talking. "Night- nightmare-" The weird dreams. The ones she's been trying to escape. "Why, I— I di-"
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Jonas lifts his hands, backing away. "Just— just calm down, Alex, I'm not— you're okay." Since when is his heart in his throat? There's an anxiety beginning to gnaw away at the pit of his stomach, and it takes him a moment to realize why. He's had… visions, for lack of a better word. This is so much worse.
And, of course, in comes the guilt. Because the fear isn't for her, not like it should be; it's for himself. So he reminds himself that nightmares aren't contagious, that being scared of her isn't helpful to either of them, and takes a tentative half step forward, keeping at an angle, leaving a visible exit. He's not gonna crowd her, not when she's already looking like a cornered rabbit, ready to bolt. "Do you… Can I do anything?"
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She wants to be sarcastic. She wants to act like nothing even happened, but that's not an option now, because Jonas is freaking out, and she's freaking out, and— Shit. Just… shit. Alex shouldn't be this terrified of something that probably doesn't even exist. Some conjuration her mind made to scare her. But she's been getting them every night. Her head shakes, jerkily, and she stills.
"This-" Her voice is shaking, and she loathes that it is, because this should be simple. When she was younger, she'd shrug these things off like they were nothing. Now she's petrified. "This is why I— I haven't been-" Sleeping. She can't finish the sentence, Alex has to take in a sharp breath, just to remain something like composed.
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Jonas takes a deep breath through his nose, lets it out slowly. Calm. Everything will be easier if they just… breathe. Take it one thing at a time. Put things in perspective. One bad dream. Or more, even, either way: dreams. She's not hurt, just scared. Things will be okay. At least… at least, he can think that. His posture relaxes a bit, holding on to the car door. Silence hangs in the air for a moment, giving them both some breathing room.
When he finally does talk, he's trained his voice to something low and even. "You slept for a while, actually. Pretty soundly, it seemed like, for maybe-" he tries to do some math in his head, and settles on an estimation, "-forty minutes? Ish? And then when I came back you just… I don't know." It's completely irrational, he knows, but a tiny part of him suggests that this is karmic retribution for smoking, and he quickly stomps that bit away. Smoking's not a sin, not really. Still, there's a bit of guilt for leaving her.
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Alex shrugs a bit, scrubs her hands at her face, and finally lifts her head again. She's quieter, now, but she's still panicking. Even if internally. Sleeping for forty minutes and being fine must've been when he was in the car. Explains why he didn't just lean over and wake her up if she started freaking out in his passenger seat. So… he'd left. Why does that thought hurt so much? Jonas leaving. She's known him for a week or so, there isn't any huge thing about it, but an unexplained absence doesn't make her feel any better.
It confirms a bit of her theory, though. He stopped the nightmares. If only for a bit. Maybe they'd come back while he was still there, and she hadn't realized, and maybe it was only a placebo, but they weren't there. For a while. Alex pinches the bridge of her nose, other hand on the seat, and just stays still. Tries not to think about it. Her eyes are burning again, but for an entirely different reason than getting dunked underneath the waves. She's crying. "Ugh— God, not… Nhh."
.
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit, what did he say? "I'm sorry?" It's not meant to be a question, but he's not entirely sure what he's apologizing for, and his uncertainty seems to bleed into his tone. "Are— um—" How the hell does one respond to such a thing? She's vaguely coherent, though, and seems to be less than thrilled about her own state. Which is… promising? In a weird way. That she's aware of it, at least, and not trying to double down on the tears.
Jonas starts to reach for her again, then hesitates. Last time he even got close she skittered away. Maybe better to get the go-ahead. "Can I…" Yikes. Feels a little weird, asking to touch her, even just to comfort her. Instead, he makes the offer, in a sort of lame mumble. "Do you… want a hug?" The answer is probably no. She doesn't seem keen on contact at the moment. He's just not sure what else to do.
.
"You," Her voice starts off better than it ends up. "Are so— so lame." She's the one crying right now, but hey. Alex can say whatever the hell she wants, as long as she doesn't show any more weakness. Which is exactly what she's about to do. Again. This is so stupid. Double layered and really, really stupid. She has to convince herself that his eyes aren't about to go red again, that he isn't whatever that thing was, before she scoots across the cab again and wraps her arms around his shoulders.
It's a little awkward, but for some reason, it makes her feel better. Of course she's not exactly touch-starved or anything— she gets hugs from her parents. This is just… kind of not that. A parental figure trying to figure out what to do, or make up from a fight, or something. It's not demanding of her. Which, considering the situation, is better than she'd been before. Even if she's still kind of crying. That needs to stop.
.
Jonas manages a crooked smile - verging into smirk territory - at the insult, glad she's present enough to be picking on him. He's almost taken by surprise when she takes him up on the offer, but the movement is made with a stubborn decidedness that feels par for the course with Alex. Even if she's not sold on the idea, she goes into it with a certain level of resolve.
It's— Well, they haven't really touched much before. And this is… a lot, he realizes. Fully chest-to-chest. But if she's going all in, so will he. It's awkward for a second, putting his arms around her - just 'cause she's sort of stiff, and compared to her his arms practically swallow her up. But he's gonna give her the best goddamn hug of her life because there's nothing else he really feels capable of doing for her in the moment, and she probably needs this more than she realizes.
With him standing outside and her sitting in the pickup they're just about level. He adjusts his hold, and she slides a little closer across the beat-up leather seat, engulfed as he ducks his head beside hers. He isn't usually one for hugging. He's not a causal hugger, really. But a good hug, when it's needed, is an intuitive thing. A nice firm touch - grounding, with a steady grip and the occasional back rub for comfort. He gives good hug.
.
Why is he so tall? He's too tall. It isn't an observation she thought she'd be having, but that's just where her head goes. A distraction from everything keeping her trapped in her mind. There's something familiar about it, but she isn't going to just… come out and say that. Because that would definitely be taken in a weird way. So instead she just tugs herself closer, wraps her legs around his waist, and stays there.
It's something she's done to nearly everyone. With Ren, with Nona, even some with her parents when she was younger. Just latching onto something and refusing to let go. Usually when she went to haunted houses. More often than not, it was Ren that was latching onto her. The thought manages to make Alex laugh, though it's cut off, not really all there. Her fingers toy with his collar, and absentmindedly she butts her forehead against his chin. Another habit.
.
There is maybe some element of pride when she brings herself even closer - because, ha, yes, he was so incredibly right - even if Jonas feels something in his chest stutter for a second, there's still a bit of a smirk growing. Her head's against his chest, and he's feeling maybe a little full of himself, but she's playing with his collar and he wonders if she can feel the slight heat working its way over his skin. As Alex shifts to not-quite-nuzzle at him, he feels a little too much her breath on his neck. A brief moment of surprise makes him glance down for a second, only to glance away because a thought entered his mind that shouldn't really be there while comforting someone.
And then another. "I probably smell like cigarettes, sorry." He doesn't smoke regularly - not like he did when his mom was sick and he was maybe a little too eager for self-destruction - but he did just have one. He'll have to air out his jacket before heading home, or his mom will be extra suspicious.
He'll also have to make sure he doesn't head home too early, or it'll be obvious he's skipped class.
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Alex just shrugs at him. "Never really cared about smelling smoke. Ren nearly always smells like one of his brownies, so nothing bothers me much." That, and it's distinctive. Something she can associate with him— and kind of blackmail that she would never use. Because that would probably get him in trouble with his mom. Then his mom would ask how she knew, and that's something she'd very much like to avoid.
For a long time after that, she's quiet. Alex stopped crying after about a minute, but she doesn't really want to pull away from him. Because she's warm, and he's comfortable. Which is kind of weird. When she does hug people, it's usually quick, more like a grab before she starts moving on again. Movement is her thing. Running, drifting, wherever things take her. But here… here she doesn't want to run. She had before, when things were still confusing, when she was panicking. Now she just wants to wait. To take a minute, and breathe.
.
Once she pauses for a second, and falls into weird companionable silence, face tucked low against his chest, Jonas adjusts his hold a little, rests his chin on top of her head. It's nice to take a second to breathe. Even nicer now that's she's definitely not crying. His job is done here, but he doesn't pull away.
…Even when he starts to wonder if he's really being as charitable as he initially intended.
The silence gradually lets his mind wander, and it's not wandering places it ought to. Instead, he's too aware of how her body is pressed against him, legs wrapped around him, and how even with good intentions this would look pretty damning. And then he starts to think about earlier, and how he was legitimately very worried for her, and yet can't help but regret swooping in to her rescue based on the reaction he garnered. Which is stupid. He shouldn't regret that, it was the right thing to do. He's just… self-conscious.
.
"You're too fuckin tall, you know that?" It's the best thing she can think of to break the silence.
.
Her comment draws him out of his reverie, though, and he's glad for it.
"Yep. Long boys. Tall boys. You should meet my uncle, he's like 6'6."
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"Oh, Jesus. That's insane. How does he walk under doorways without slamming his head onto them?" Probably ducking. But Jonas's family is just insanely tall, for some reason. Or he's just insanely tall. Mrs. Long is closer to her own height, anyways. "How do you walk under doorways without slamming into them?"
It's a bit of a quip, and Alex chuckles slightly, only pulling her head out from underneath his own to offer a crooked smile. Her hair frames her face, and she remembers that stupid nickname Jonas had called her when they were texting again— Blue Curaçao. What is it, a liquor? Some kind of alcohol. She needs a nickname for him. Ren, she just uses his full name, and Nona has a multitude of them, but he doesn't have one yet. 'Mystery TA Man' doesn't really fit that mold anymore.
Rough and tumble aren't the right words to describe her. Eyes still red and a little puffy from tears, a too-big jacket wrapped around her, and rumpled clothes from sleeping in a probably uncomfortable position. Alex looks oddly soft. That normally sharp smile of hers dimmed a bit, more genuine, still skewed. That's the word. Soft.
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He's got a look of crooked amusement on his face, a brow raised at her question. "First of all; the average door frame offers plenty of leeway. Secondly; Christ, you should've seen me in middle school, I was all about the door frames. Honestly, through sophomore year, really. I once popped a ceiling tile loose in the hall when I was proving my jump height." He was both embarrassed and weirdly proud of that odd achievement, despite the detention it earned him.
And then he's way too aware of how close she is.
Waaay too aware.
But, well, it's not like this is the first time he's been close to a girl and starting thinking Thoughts. First time he's done it with a girl - who's not his girlfriend - having her legs around his waist, though. Jonas's eyes slide away, clearing his throat. "Uncle Andy has it tough, though. He's clear like 90% of the time, and then will end up miscalculating like 1%. The rest, he ducks just in case."
He should probably let go of her. Probably. Instead, he just loosens his hold a little.
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Alex winces a bit at the idea of slamming her head into things constantly, though she still gets a laugh out of it. "Ouch. At least they're not falling flat on their faces when they fuck up a vault, though. Those can really damn your face for a while." She should know. She's done that a whole lot.
She doesn't really do parkour, or whatever people want to call it, but she's mapped her town. She knows all the escape routes, and what it takes to get through them. Well enough that by now she might be able to free-run through just about any part of it. Though if she moves somewhere else? Alex would have to take the time to map again, to work her way through the motions, understand whatever the zones have in store.
Then, she glances back past Jonas, and spots the unfinished houses. Perfect spot to run her problems away. Maybe he knows more about her than he thought. Alex moves herself back a bit, ruffles up his hair with both hands, and then lets go completely; sliding past to take off in a dead sprint toward the first house.
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Jonas is busy attempting to fix the mess she made of his hair, lips twisted in annoyance, when she bolts. He grabs for her collar and just misses, and doesn't bother taking the time to roll his eyes, instead sprinting right after her. But Long boys have long Long legs, and Alex - though very good with what she has - does not, and Jonas comes up alongside and gets an arm around her waist, tackling her to the ground.
"Okay, what the hell Alex." He's a little winded, more from the tackle than the sprint, and tries to shift his weight off of her. "You can't be crying one minute and then take off toward potentially dangerous construction sites, that's like—" He rolls himself over her, getting a hand in her collar to pin her down from running again. "—mixed messages. Or the same message." He shakes his head, tries to clarify; "Look, I'm not inclined to let self-confessed exhausted sad girl who fainted earlier today out of my sight in a dangerous area with lots of pointy things and high ledges, okay?" Most of his tone is annoyed, but there's a bit of anxiety as well. And maybe a tiny bit of amusement. Because of course she would. He's rapidly learning more and more about Alex. Self-preservation is not her strong suit.
.
Ow. Fuck. Okay that's a thing that just happened. And that's the second time she's had to think that today. "It's— Ugh, okay, I'm not about to go kill myself or whatever," Alex huffs out the words, glaring up at him with an almost petulant look on her face. "I was gonna run. I do that, when I get freaked. I go out, and I run for an hour." And it would probably have exhausted her more, which really wasn't a good idea, so Jonas maybe has a point. Even though she'd rather not admit that.
Despite getting the wind knocked out of her, Alex still tries to get a leg up, not to get out but just to have a point of leverage once she does try something. So instead she stares him down.
If she had better forethought, she wouldn't have done that. At all. Because he's still really tall, and Alex usually doesn't care what happens to her (which is admittedly probably a bad thing), but she's kind of terrified. And kind of something she isn't going to think about at all nope, no, not at all. Now she can't tell if she's flushed from the (rather brief) run and tackle, or the… the other thing.
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He's probably breathing harder than he should be. He feels like he shouldn't be half-panting like he is. Jonas makes a conscious effort to feel like less of a creep, steadying his breathing through his nose, and is about to pull away, lean back on his knees, but she's moving like she's gonna roll out from under him. He has - unfortunately - been in this position before, for a very different reason. A much bloodier and less well-meaning reason, on the cement sidewalk outside NVHS. Leverage is key.
Guilt and shame coil in the pit of his stomach, because he shouldn't be treating her like some punk kid trading blows in a parking lot.
So forget trying to go for strategy. This isn't a fucking wrestling match. The end goal isn't any kind of physical victory.
"I'm not saying— I mean, not necessarily on purpose." The idea maybe possibly could've entered his mind. He drops closer for a minute, rocking onto one forearm to free the other from around her, then pulls back more, focusing his hold on the excess fabric of the jacket rather than her waist. There's a little more space between their chests this time. Now he can attribute the breathlessness to the maneuvering. "I just mean— You kinda seem the sort to rush into things without thinking, Alex." The irony of his current situation is not lost on him.
There's a pause. He is very, very aware of their position. For a second his brow furrows, not from the argument, but from a moment of hesitation, studying her face. Then he lets go, pulls away, sitting back on his knees. "You know what, forget it. I just— I dunno. Sorry."
.
She manages to roll her eyes at him, tugging herself up onto her forearms. "Look, if you think I'm gonna gut myself on some scraps or whatever, you can just supervise me. Like some weird nanny." Alex nearly snorts at her own idiot self. After worming her way out from underneath him rather unceremoniously, she clears her throat a bit, rolling out her shoulders and brushing the dirt off of the jacket. "Supervisor Jonas." Oh, hey, that's an option. Maybe for when she does stupid shit.
But then again, she's done a whole lot of stupid shit. Once she's content that she's at least a little cleaner, Alex starts for the buildings again, this time making sure to walk so that he isn't scared of her just bolting.
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Jonas is sitting back, hands on thighs, mentally berating himself for being a dumb fucking cretin, a fucking fool, an absolute fucking buffoon, when the words hit him. "Right…" There's a wry twist to his lips, 'cause those words are ringing a bell somewhere in the back of his head, and the words come out deadpan; "…Supervisor Jonas." But she's up and gone, and - despite himself, despite the thoughts that he should just leave her alone, stop being so close to her, stop trying to help her, stop trying to help her by being close to her - he's scrambling up to follow after.
.
The show house won't give her anything to do other than maybe slide down a bannister, if it has any, but the half-built ones could give far more yield to her sprinting around and creating a kind of obstacle course for herself.
Oh, hey, maybe she should do that when she gets back. Instead of freaking her mom out by randomly going for runs at nearly 5 AM. Alex doesn't look back to see if Jonas is following her. It's kind of an assumption that he won't let her do anything stupid.
"Honestly, I'm surprised you take me for someone who thinks at all. I haven't had a single thought in my head since freshman year. That Guildenstern reading? Pure luck and speculation." It hadn't been. She knows it wasn't. She knew what she was doing. A lot of the time, she knows what she's doing, and she chooses to ignore it. Kind of like how Alex had known her mom would flip over her hair being blue, and did it anyways. Same difference with running through an abandoned building. "This head is empty."
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He highly doubts that, but he bites his tongue, as he catches up to Alex, lips hitching into a smirk despite himself. "Oh yeah, I've seen your work; can barely spell your own name. Shocked you made it this far, to be honest."
So they've settled back into this. Jonas can do that. Better than feeling whatever weird protective instinct he's been having, that's for sure. She just… He sighs as she monkeys her way up the scaffolding, heading for a second floor opening, and begins climbing up after her. She's a stormchaser. Or maybe the storm. Whatever she is, it's trouble. But for now, he's along for the ride, whether he wants to be or not. Unfortunately, he thinks he might want to.