Jealousy - F Avery

She’s not quite sure when she started feeling this way. Somewhere between residual distrust and the bitter misunderstandings, her heart softened and the walls she’d built up crumbled to dust. Was she always meant to end up here, at the mercy of someone she once thought was born to kill her?

Because she is. At your mercy, that is.

Just looking at you from across the room, she feels her heart racing in an uneven rhythm. She’s glamoured right now, hidden, unable to reach out lest you both face the consequences. It kills her to be stuck on the sidelines and only able to watch as the show plays out; she’s used to changing the plot as she pleases, not being a device of it.

You, though. God, you’re working these Council assholes like a pro. Your jittery nerves and panic are long gone, replaced by unsettling certainty and a cold determination as you watch them all play right into your hands.

You might be the Unchosen, a pariah…but something about you pulls people in regardless. A kind of magnetism that exists even when you’re going through hell and uncertain you’ll make out the other side.

She appreciates that about you. Respects it, even. Still, bitter anger stirs in her gut as she sees the wolves circling you, watches the vultures ready themselves to swoop. You don’t just affect her, but all of them, too. They all want you just like she does and it makes her want to scratch her skin till it bleeds.

A young man, an upcoming politician, leans close to you. You laugh so naturally, but the anger in your eyes brings her comfort. You hate these people just as much as she does, she reminds himself. This is solely for information, not because you enjoy being around these bloodsuckers.

The man hovers a hand above your shoulder. Avery’s blunt nails draw blood from her palms.

When you finally draw away from the small group of tittering assholes, you catch her eye and go toward the bathroom. It makes a chill run down her spine; you can always see her, even when no one else can.

She slides through the door right after you, locking it behind her. As the glamour ripples away, falling from her in rivulets, your eyes drop to her marred palms.

Your eyebrow twitches up, playful, “What happened there?”

“They were too familiar,” Avery says quietly, not able to look directly at you.

From her peripheral, she sees you huff a quiet laugh. You draw closer, your hand sliding in her own wounded one, and she goes stock still.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” You say quietly, “We both know why we’re here.”

It’s a strange dichotomy of emotions that arise at the reminder. Anger towards those that have failed so many, but relief that you’re here beside her. Disgust, because she herself failed as well, and-

And love. Love for you. For how you never failed, how you never could fail, even if everyone else claimed otherwise. You’re the closest she’ll ever be to holy and she’s okay with that.

Love, if only she could let herself.

Your hand squeezes hers, grounding, and she finally accepts the truth as you stand there next to her. She’s a cliff crumbling to you, to the sea below.

She glances over and you smile, gentle despite the blood on her hands. The anger of her youth is gone, replaced with something that tastes like regret, but you sweeten the bitterness.

“Ready?” You ask, eyes pleading.

“Ready.” She confirms, bending farther than she thought possible.

Because that’s what you do. You make her bend. She always wanted to make the world better, but you make her want to be better.

She follows you out the door, once more hidden from prying eyes, yet still your gaze falls on her and your body turns toward hers. Like she’s your north, like you’ve seen her and now cannot possibly unsee her.

Maybe, she considers for a moment, you were born to kill her. Maybe she’d let you.