Here’s another little insight into my WIP, Jethro. The pairing behind this set of ten drabbles (and any others I put out, as a matter of fact) will have to be a secret, as they contain some spoilery bits, but I couldn’t resist writing about this pairing, because it’s just about my favorite one in the series… so enjoy! The first installment of drabbles is here.
The last time she saw him, he’d broken her heart. Not in the normal, guys-are-jerks way. He was a traitor, an enemy—a lie. Worst of all was knowing that she still loved him, despite everything. She didn’t know if she could ever love anyone else.
Not all years were the same length. She didn’t mean in terms of days, like leap years—some years were just longer. Everyone knew the years went faster the older you got. Her first ten years were long ones, spent on lonely, empty hope. Her years right now were moving fast, moments slipping through her fingers before she can catch hold of them, before she can make them solid and real.
Cornflower blue—that was the color of her eyes. Blue was nothing like she was; blue was sad and calming and peaceful. But those eyes, they were everything that she was—vibrant and sparkling, and piercing to his very core. Now, years later, those eyes still haunted him. He wondered how much of the sparkle was gone, how much he’d stolen from her.
Sometimes his dreams were black and white, visions of things he shuddered at in the daytime. Things so familiar and so his own that he had to shut them out of his mind, so he didn’t see them in the day also. But then, other nights he dreamed in color—of the future. Of her.
On the surface, they were near strangers. A part of her wondered what it would be like to do something simple, like walk across the quad hand in hand—something normal. But that would attract attention, something so new, so seemingly out of the blue. They’d tried it once, at the one small diner in town where word was sure to spread, and it did. That was before all the craziness happened, though, and she wondered if the backlash would be too much now, or anything at all.
She lay on the hard concrete ground, her breath coming in shallow, fear-fueled gasps. She’d never really considered dying before. She was too young, by far, and too eager to start living. She didn’t have time for such a distant subject. These days it wasn’t so distant anymore.
The moment the news hit him, his whole world seemed to break, fragmented into cuttingly sharp pieces. He found out in the worst way possible—overhearing other people talking, people who didn’t know what she meant to him, only that she was gone—taken, supposedly. The worst part was not knowing anything real, anything solid, as the world shattered around him.
Thunder in the air could mean nothing or everything in the desert. Desert storms were nothing to be taken lightly—lightning was ubiquitous, and flash floods could be deadly. A rumble in the air always set his stomach tightening, but lately it wasn’t just nature he was worried about. There were other storms coming, less predictable ones.
She could control it, if she only noticed on time what was happening. If she didn’t, there was a snowball-effect. Bad got worse, worse got disastrous. If she could just stop, clear her head, and focus, she could always turn the situation on its head, but she was a prey to her emotions at times. It was part of what he loved about her—she was so different from him, so unstoppable, so uncontrolled.
“Enemy” was such a harsh word. He wasn’t sure what they were, exactly, but enemies wasn’t it. Anything that might have made them enemies was schematics, was something that had nothing to do with them in the here and now. He couldn’t trust himself with them, though… with her. The best thing for all of them was for him to take himself out of the situation entirely. And the best way to do that was for him to tell her the truth, so she wouldn’t come after him.