02-09-2026, 10:09 PM
He smirked at Natalie’s claim for dealer’s choice, then realized a second too late that he had no idea where they were going. He didn’t ask. He wasn’t familiar with this part of the city, and he let himself assume they were drifting somewhere toward the center.
Natalie shifted against him, her weight settling into something still. The city blurred past the windows, lights smearing together in the middle of the night. Whatever they’d given him dulled the edges, but he hated the way it also threatened to blur him. He hated that slipping feeling, like losing his grip on himself one molecule at a time. It had been a hell of a day.
Leaving Natalie’s flat without knowing it would be the last time he saw it intact. The surprise of Matias. The wall. The crack and flare of pain when his fist gave out. His casted hand traced slow, absent circles over Natalie’s fingers where they rested in his lap. He remembered those same hands clenched tight at the ball, nails biting into her palms while he hauled her out of that building in Sierra Leone. They looked delicate now. Fragile. But he knew better. There was steel under the skin. His own hands felt filthy.
He tried to push Nox out of his head. Forced the thought down, swearing again that he wouldn’t dig it back up. But the question gnawed anyway. Was it really Nox he’d been desperate to reclaim? Or the version of himself that existed when their friendship was at its peak. Before the States, before Cayli, before the long shadow of murder and torture settled into his soul? Back when he texted dumb pictures of Stetsons and despair and thought that counted as honesty.
No. It wasn’t Nox he wanted back. Not really. Not in that same way. It was the past.
He’d been clawing at it like Nox himself was some key to time travel, some door back to a life that no longer existed. And the way Nox had looked at him. Shit. Half longing. Half apology. Completely alone. Standing there naked in his room while Jay hovered in the doorway like a coward. He might as well have tried to fuck a ghost.
Which meant the truth was uglier than he wanted to admit. Jay had been the asshole.
He’d used Nox. Used the closeness, the attention, and the heat like a drug. If he’d cared at all, it had been shallow and self-serving. Something to fill the hollow spaces without ever asking what it would cost someone else.
He rubbed a hand over his face and leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the window.
Yeah. That tracked. Jay as the villain. If their lives were a movie, the audience would be rooting for him to rot alone by the end.
And yet. He looked down at Natalie, dozing peacefully against him, trusting him with the simple weight of her body. The question hit him like a sucker punch.
What the hell was he doing with her?
She deserved something solid. Someone whole. Someone who didn’t feel like half a man stitched together by duty and bad habits. Not someone only half alive, half present, half somewhere else even when he was right beside her. The guilt pressed heavier than the drugs.
He fought sleep as long as he could. Stared out at the passing city, counted breaths, tried to keep himself upright. But the hum of the vehicle and the fragile safety of the moment finally dragged him under.
Belizna was the third most preferable option. He’d never seen it himself. Only the version Natalie painted with her words. It felt like her world, and he approached it with the same caution he would a freshly mopped floor, afraid of tracking his mess across something clean.
Dawn washed the building in pale gold when they arrived.
Jay watched the light creep along the edges of the place and wondered not for the first time whether this was a new day. Or just the same failures, drenched in better light.
Natalie shifted against him, her weight settling into something still. The city blurred past the windows, lights smearing together in the middle of the night. Whatever they’d given him dulled the edges, but he hated the way it also threatened to blur him. He hated that slipping feeling, like losing his grip on himself one molecule at a time. It had been a hell of a day.
Leaving Natalie’s flat without knowing it would be the last time he saw it intact. The surprise of Matias. The wall. The crack and flare of pain when his fist gave out. His casted hand traced slow, absent circles over Natalie’s fingers where they rested in his lap. He remembered those same hands clenched tight at the ball, nails biting into her palms while he hauled her out of that building in Sierra Leone. They looked delicate now. Fragile. But he knew better. There was steel under the skin. His own hands felt filthy.
He tried to push Nox out of his head. Forced the thought down, swearing again that he wouldn’t dig it back up. But the question gnawed anyway. Was it really Nox he’d been desperate to reclaim? Or the version of himself that existed when their friendship was at its peak. Before the States, before Cayli, before the long shadow of murder and torture settled into his soul? Back when he texted dumb pictures of Stetsons and despair and thought that counted as honesty.
No. It wasn’t Nox he wanted back. Not really. Not in that same way. It was the past.
He’d been clawing at it like Nox himself was some key to time travel, some door back to a life that no longer existed. And the way Nox had looked at him. Shit. Half longing. Half apology. Completely alone. Standing there naked in his room while Jay hovered in the doorway like a coward. He might as well have tried to fuck a ghost.
Which meant the truth was uglier than he wanted to admit. Jay had been the asshole.
He’d used Nox. Used the closeness, the attention, and the heat like a drug. If he’d cared at all, it had been shallow and self-serving. Something to fill the hollow spaces without ever asking what it would cost someone else.
He rubbed a hand over his face and leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the window.
Yeah. That tracked. Jay as the villain. If their lives were a movie, the audience would be rooting for him to rot alone by the end.
And yet. He looked down at Natalie, dozing peacefully against him, trusting him with the simple weight of her body. The question hit him like a sucker punch.
What the hell was he doing with her?
She deserved something solid. Someone whole. Someone who didn’t feel like half a man stitched together by duty and bad habits. Not someone only half alive, half present, half somewhere else even when he was right beside her. The guilt pressed heavier than the drugs.
He fought sleep as long as he could. Stared out at the passing city, counted breaths, tried to keep himself upright. But the hum of the vehicle and the fragile safety of the moment finally dragged him under.
Belizna was the third most preferable option. He’d never seen it himself. Only the version Natalie painted with her words. It felt like her world, and he approached it with the same caution he would a freshly mopped floor, afraid of tracking his mess across something clean.
Dawn washed the building in pale gold when they arrived.
Jay watched the light creep along the edges of the place and wondered not for the first time whether this was a new day. Or just the same failures, drenched in better light.
Only darkness shows you the light.