Jude
and I'm sick of waiting patiently
Her concern makes him ache. The concern Hadama and Noe had shown can’t hold a candle to hers; she who is - was - his best friend, his confidante, his first love. The one who knew him best, in ways family never could. He wants to fall into her outstretched hand, frozen in time and space, and let her soft touch ease the aches that go so far beneath the skin.
But those very hands had been the ones to hurt him. The mouth that gasps and cries with alarm had been the one to herald the end of their relationship. And just as she freezes, so too is Jude capable of shoving that sad, pitiful, touch-starved creature back into the box before he can do something stupid.
“Got into a fight s’all,” he mutters, because how is he supposed to explain the downward spiral his newly unlocked anger issues have caused? A last parting gift from his father that he never knew existed in their family line. Irony of ironies, because apparently that’s what brought her here. His face - never knowing how to keep any form of emotion from showing on it - twists painfully at the mention of his father’s departure, and the new life he was unfairly and unexpectedly thrust into that sits damnably all around him in the existence of the apartment at all. His lips part to say - something, anything? - when he pauses. Thinks. And something cold, hard, and angry forms in his stomach.
“How did you find out?” His tone is dead and flat, because it’s a leading question. Jude knows his father only left letters, and if Sohalia is showing up this late? It means she didn’t get the news that way. Shaking his head despite how it makes him wince, he lowers the ice pack from his face and laughs bitterly. “Did he seriously see you before me? Are you joking?” The sting of tears in his eyes makes him feel pathetic, so he tries to sneer past them. “I guess you’re the favorite in all things then.” Jude’s choice, Koa’s choice, Harper’s choice. Apparently Sohalia could do no wrong, and life was intent on rubbing as much salt in his wounds until the message was properly received.
But those very hands had been the ones to hurt him. The mouth that gasps and cries with alarm had been the one to herald the end of their relationship. And just as she freezes, so too is Jude capable of shoving that sad, pitiful, touch-starved creature back into the box before he can do something stupid.
“Got into a fight s’all,” he mutters, because how is he supposed to explain the downward spiral his newly unlocked anger issues have caused? A last parting gift from his father that he never knew existed in their family line. Irony of ironies, because apparently that’s what brought her here. His face - never knowing how to keep any form of emotion from showing on it - twists painfully at the mention of his father’s departure, and the new life he was unfairly and unexpectedly thrust into that sits damnably all around him in the existence of the apartment at all. His lips part to say - something, anything? - when he pauses. Thinks. And something cold, hard, and angry forms in his stomach.
“How did you find out?” His tone is dead and flat, because it’s a leading question. Jude knows his father only left letters, and if Sohalia is showing up this late? It means she didn’t get the news that way. Shaking his head despite how it makes him wince, he lowers the ice pack from his face and laughs bitterly. “Did he seriously see you before me? Are you joking?” The sting of tears in his eyes makes him feel pathetic, so he tries to sneer past them. “I guess you’re the favorite in all things then.” Jude’s choice, Koa’s choice, Harper’s choice. Apparently Sohalia could do no wrong, and life was intent on rubbing as much salt in his wounds until the message was properly received.
for someone that won't ever arrive
