For how entirely furious she is at herself, Mal, honestly, could wring her own neck. It shouldn't be like this—she shouldn't be like this. She shouldn't be so wretchedly, embarrassingly pitiful, burying her face in Jay's chest like—like she's some pathetic, prissy princess from Auradon who needs protection, or—she shudders to even think the word—comfort. She's an Isle girl, through and through, the daughter of Maleficent (she tries to ignore the pang of heartache in her chest as she thinks of her mother, as she remembers their fight), and she's better than this.

She doesn't let things get to her. She can handle a few insults without being phased. She's cold and harsh and unflinching like steel, and the moment Jay had come up here and caught her trying not to cry, he should have knocked some sense into her, he should have laughed at her, he should have set her straight. And Jay is one of the only people on this island respectably black-hearted enough that she could have trusted him to do it.

So why had he let her lean on him like this? Why had he wrapped his arms around her? Why had she let him?

The only answer she can come up with is that they're both idiots. And she still really, really wants to wring her own neck for it.

But everything is so heavy and so much right now, and she can't get that spiteful, contemptuous look in her mother's eyes out of the back of her mind. Jay hadn't understood, not entirely, if only because she'd caught herself before really explaining. This isn't just about what her mom said, the same things her mom has always said—this is about what Mal had seen in her mother's eyes. She's always seen that her mom doesn't really care about her, even if it stings. She's always seen that her mom resents her, even if it's not her fault that her mom let herself be close to her father. She's always seen that her mom is disappointed in her, even if she tries so hard to do what she can with what she has.

This is the first time she's ever seen malice in her mother's eyes that was meant for no one but her. This is the first time she's seen that her mom hates her, hates that Mal can't live up to her expectations, hates all the time she's wasted on a child who will only ever shame her name.

And it's the worst, most sickening feeling Mal's ever felt. Of all the awful things she's expected from her mother, Mal never really expected to be hated.

And Jay's presence while she struggles and wrestles with this is… grounding. Somehow, just being near to him is helping her focus on anything but the ache in her heart, the nauseating pit in her stomach, the crushing weight on her shoulders. And something about the feeling of his hands resting uncertainly on her back sparks an unfamiliar and only moderately unwanted feeling of warmth in her chest that winds its way around her heart like a balm. And—she can't help it; she gives in.

At least she can soothe herself with that feeling now and erase all memory of it from her mind later. With extreme prejudice.

Her eyes still closed, she takes several deep breaths, trying to cast aside the barbed and venomous words of her mother, the loathing glint in the fairy's eyes, trying instead to replay Jay's words in her mind, to focus on the conviction on his face and in his voice as he'd spoken. He'd really meant all that stuff, it was so obvious in everything about the way he'd said it, and Jay thinking she's terrible may not be the same as her mother thinking it, but if she can just come to grips with the fact that her mom will never really see her, then maybe... maybe for right now, it can be enough.

He's been by her side for years now, after all. He's been with her through everything. For tonight, he can be enough.

Her breathing finally feels like it's completely steadied, and her eyes don't sting as much as they did when Jay first came up here, and now that she's finally calmed down, she feels a hell of a lot stupider about the position she's put herself in. This night, she can sincerely say, has been the worst.

"If you tell anyone about this," she mumbles darkly, stiffening a little as she does, "I'm gonna kill you. Painfully. There will be blood."

And Jay just chuckles warmly, because he really has been by her side for years now, and he's used to her idle threats. Heaving a sigh, she slowly begins to lift her head, wondering what the hell she can even say about what just happened between them, what dismissive comment she can use to explain it away, the way Isle kids always do when they do something that doesn't seem quite heartless enough.

But when she looks up at him, mouth already half-open for whatever bullshit lie she was about to come up with to reduce this whole weird embrace down into something lesser, she suddenly realizes that they are standing very close, and there is not a lot of distance between their faces. And her first instinct is to lean away, but her gaze catches on his and there's something she can't quite read in his eyes that makes her pause instead. There's a long moment of silence while she tries to read him and he seems to have some sort of internal debate and—his eyes did not just flick down towards her lips, did they?

Mal finally looks away, her brow furrowing slightly as her eyes shift to the side and she tries to tell herself she's just—seeing things, or misinterpreting things, or anything to subdue the odd mix of vague panic and something unnamed that bubble up in her chest. She suddenly realizes she's forgotten to breathe in the last few moments and becomes that much more convinced she's done nothing but make an idiot of herself tonight as she slowly exhales, trying to pull herself together.

"Jay, I… thanks," she mumbles, even though villain kids aren't supposed to be grateful, because she has to say something to try and dispel this odd tension hanging in between them.

When she chances a glance back up at him, he looks back at her appraisingly for only a moment or two before a small, crooked smile touches at the corners of his lips. She feels one of his hands move from its place at her back, and then he's brushing a lock of her hair back from her face with a gentleness that shouldn't exist on the isle, and that warm, soothing feeling from earlier is blossoming in her chest again as his hand lingers there, his fingers just slightly threaded into her hair.

There's a voice nagging at the back of her mind that she should have pulled away by now, that she should be thinking more clearly about what's going on right now, that this entire situation is hurtling too quickly towards something she's been trying to avoid for so long—but it's hard to listen to that voice when she swears that her heartbeat's getting louder; just barely enough to be noticeable, just barely enough to be distracting.

This time, when his gaze darts back down to her lips for just a moment, it's harder to try and tell herself it doesn't mean what she thinks, and when his hand settles to cup her face, his fingers tangling further into her hair, she knows she shouldn't lean into the touch the way she does. She shouldn't be letting any of this happen, because she's never wanted anything like this with Jay or anyone else, and the whole reason she and Jay have been so close for so long is because Jay has never wanted anything like this with her, right?

So even though Jay's expression gets a little bolder like he's just come to a decision, there's no way he's about to kiss her.

And even though she feels something alarmingly like anticipation run through to her very fingertips as soon as she sees him start to lean towards her, there's no way she's about to let him…

Right?

Mal's eyes fall shut as she tilts her head to meet his kiss, and suddenly her pulse is a deafening drumbeat in her ears as she tries not to admit that his lips, warm and gentle against hers, feel really, really nice. She can't believe she's doing this, and for a moment she feels an entirely new spark of panic as it sinks in that she has no idea what she's doing—really, she's never even come close to kissing someone before.

Then his thumb slowly traces over her cheek, and she can't help it; she melts into him, trying to match him as best she can and let instinct take over as her arms loop around his neck, and she swears she feels the corner of his lips quirk into a smile even through the kiss as she does, which only draws her in more. His hand on her back slides just a little lower as he pulls her closer and her knees start to feel a little bit like jelly as she tangles one of her hands into his hair and wonders why, why she's spent almost sixteen years now trying to avoid this kind of thing.

Jay tilts his head to deepen the kiss, and she can't help but sigh against his lips as the feeling in her chest curls even closer around her heart, until—

—until suddenly she remembers what led them here, and with her mother's words echoing in her head she finds herself going cold. Even with Jay's arm wrapped tight around her waist, even with his fingers wound into her hair like he's touching someone worthwhile, even with his lips, intoxicating against her own, threatening to rekindle the fire that's been steadily building in the center of her chest since this kiss started, all she feels is ice cold.

Weak. Softhearted. Insignificant. It's all she can hear, her mother's voice—her mother meaning it, believing it, and Mal has done nothing but prove her right, done nothing but cave to her emotions. She feels a swell of revulsion and wrath begin to churn in her gut—at herself, at Jay, she doesn't know, but she can't do this, she can't let her mother be right because she doesn't know what it will do to her.

She has to be vicious, and hardened, and vengeful. Like her mother.

No—she'll be stronger, more heartless, more notorious than Maleficent ever was. She won't have the same moment of weakness as her mother. Can't.

Mal's hands move to Jay's shoulders, and she shoves him—hard. And, like that, whatever had come over them, whatever had been hanging in the almost nonexistent space between them, is broken, gone, taking what was left of the soothing glow in her chest from earlier with it. And all that she's left with as Jay stumbles back, looking dazed and panicked, is the return of the stinging feeling in her eyes from earlier, and outright all-encompassing rage, and under it all, inexplicably… hurt.

"What the hell, Jay?" she demands, her cracked voice half-hysterical and absolutely frigid. Jay looks almost frantic as he scrambles to process this abrupt change and form a response, but he doesn't look like he has an explanation for himself any more than she does. Which is fine, because she's too livid, too wounded to wait for him. "You think just because you come up here and I'm upset and freaking out that I just, what, need to be kissed like some kind of helpless, weak princess from one of our parents' stupid fairytales? Just kiss me and that's all I need and that'll fix everything, is that what you think of me?"

"No, Mal, I—"

"You think I'd want to kiss you?" she spits, her glare vicious and full of caustic spite.

"I didn't—it's not—" He cuts himself off when her words actually hit, she sees him falter in his fumble for the right words the moment what she said really registers, but she doesn't give him time to react. There's a new voice in the back of her mind now, warning her she's already bordering on too far, too cruel, and it just spurs her on.

Is she being too brutal, being too relentless? Is she hurting him? Good. She can't afford to be soft. Can't afford to let her mother be right.

"You think because my mother was weak one time and let herself fall for a pathetic, powerless human that I'd want to do the same?" She's fuming now, stepping back from him, her fingernails digging into her palms so hard she feels the sting. "Well, I don't need you. I don't need you to kiss me. I'm better than that—than you."

If he looks like he's been struck, it's only in the sense that it's just made him pissed. He doesn't reel; his face doesn't flash with hurt, with anything else—it just hardens, turns stony and impassive. Because Jay's not like her, he doesn't wear his emotions on his sleeve like she has tonight. He's what a villain kid should be, and while she's here hurting over her mom and hurting over him and struggling pathetically to keep herself from crying, he closes off. Like an Isle kid should.

He scoffs quietly, and the sound is hard. "Sure. Message received," he says, voice all eerie calm and steely anger. And he falls back just a step before he turns, and with one more harsh look thrown over his shoulder, he vaults back over her parapet, disappearing from sight.

She's breathing harder than she should be as she listens to the rattling sound of stolen trinkets fading into the night after Jay descends the Bargain Castle, and she knows not enough of it is from shouting, not enough of it is from fury—some of it, too much of it, is from trying to hold back tears once more.

And she wishes it were only angry, bitter tears stinging at her eyes, but she knows there's more to it, knows some of it is from the words of her mother, knows some of it is something else that she's too scared to give a name to.

Taking a shuddering breath to try and steady herself—it doesn't work—she turns abruptly, away from the city below, away from her view of Auradon, away from the night Jay's disappeared into, and she feels her hair whip about her face as she does. Her breathing is still shaky and unsteady as she pulls herself through her window once more, and when she thinks that maybe he hates her now, maybe he won't forgive her for this, she thinks it with a sick sort of satisfaction. Good. Fine. He should. He shouldn't think he can get away with things like tonight.

And if he is hurt, somewhere hidden behind his harsh exterior, then at least he's got a taste of what she's feeling.

And if there's a jagged feeling in her chest, piercing and stinging and painful where her heart should be, she tells herself it doesn't matter as she gets herself ready for bed in stiff, infuriated movements. And when she finally climbs under her covers, she swears to herself as though it makes anything better:

She'll be Maleficent, she'll be worse—and if she breaks her own heart along the way, maybe that's just for the best.

A/N: so, that's the extent of the finished stuff. there's another two chapters planned, but i couldn't tell you when they'll finally be written. maybe a few weeks from now, maybe a few months from now. sorry if you're hooked!

[12/24/2017 2:07:21 PM] kenn edy: i'm laughing at how he jingles when he leaves
[12/24/2017 2:10:21 PM] Miss Steal Yo Girl (ft. Yo Girl): lmfao listen... listen... I'm just going with what was established in the book
[12/24/2017 2:10:46 PM] Miss Steal Yo Girl (ft. Yo Girl): he comes to her house frequently and she knows him by the sound of jangling trinkets lmfao
[12/24/2017 2:12:29 PM] kenn edy: jingle jayngle