The arms wrapping around her body cut her sobs short. Blind from the tears, she was immediately cohesive to him, nuzzling her cheek against his body. When she went to grab for his shirt, her hands were so unsteady they could not keep a firm hold on the material and her fingertips slid down his abdomen. After all this, he was touching her. After what she had done, he held her to him, kissed her head and stroked her tender flesh. He was supposed to hate her, but he... he loved her. After all she had done, betraying him, pushing him away, lying and doing the things she promised she would not... he loved her.
For now she let herself cry, getting out the pain, not saying another word for the next fifteen or so minutes until she could breathe again without puncturing a lung with her ribs. If it were not for the bandages, her ribcage would look horribly grotesque under the skin that clung to it, not an ounce of fat separating the flesh and bone. The sick little girl held onto her brother until the tears finally ceased. Emotional breakdowns were much easier to pull back from, but they hurt ten times worse by tying her heart in knots. "The worst thing in the world... would be to be pulled apart from you," she spoke at last, her voice sounding nervous, shaky. "I should have died, but I didn't. I didn't die for a reason... he almost put his hand right through me and all I could think about was the last words I said to you, and I prayed they were 'I love you.'"
Pulling her head away from his chest, she looked up at him, her eyes puffy and red, one bruised completely around. In this state she did not feel pretty, but she did not need to be in front of him. He was her brother, her best friend, her lover, and "You are everything to me," she told him. "And now's not the right time... I don't think any time will be with us. I don't want anyone to touch me like that again. I don't want... I don't want anyone else to touch me. I don't have a lot of time left... and I want to spend it with you. Alba... I figured out a lot of things... and I... I want... I want to be with you, more than anything..."
Alba was quiet the whole time she cried. He knew he couldn't say anything more than he had, and at this point, words were meaningless anyhow. He let his hands, his breathing, his heartbeat do the talking. He let Jinx have the floor, clearing her pain bit by bit with every sob that wracked her small body. At her failed attempts to grab at his shirt, he simply pressed himself closer to her. He felt her breathing begin to regulate itself again, heard her speak against his torso, and listened quietly to her lament, her echo of his own feelings. His hand moved to her cheek, cupping it gently, thumbing away the tears from her unblemished eye.
"I do, too." He nodded, finally replying when she looked up at him. "I want to be with you more than anything. Life is short, no matter how you slice it... and here, the slices get pretty thin. You and I have seen people cut down too early. We've cut people down too early. We both know the reality of living the lives we've been given, that you're just as likely to get a bullet through the head as you are to live until your body gives up on you." He smiled at her, reaching for her hand. "We're gonna die, Jinx. We're gonna die any given day. Could be tomorrow, could be ten years, could be fifty. But the odds say we won't know exactly when it will happen. So..."
Alba was a man of logic. A man of reason and rational thought. He rarely acted on impulse, on gut instinct, on primal emotion. Something in Jinx brought it out in him, though, and he couldn't say it was for the worst. Still, this was sudden, even then.
For years, more than she wanted to remember, they had been together. The first day they were ever introduced to the Monacello family, Jinx was on the Meira brothers and she never stopped bothering them. She and Soiree constantly argued like siblings, wrestled with each other, beat each other up and had those roles set... but there was something different about Alba. There had always been something different. All those nights she had held him in her arms as he cried, as he shook with nightmares, and now the roles had switched. With her life, she would protect Alba, but all along she had needed him there more than he ever had. If she had died the other night, he would have eventually had to move on, and even on the verge of death she was afraid of losing him.
All along, this was love. The years she had spent following Gin, Alba was always there. Every time she was hurt, every time she felt heartbroken, Alba was there. And their love seemed to develop, to form into something else entirely, bringing them closer together than she had even been to her own twin brother.
He was right. They could die tomorrow without a second left to say goodbye. All those years of being an assassin she was lucky. She was a woman without fear because she knew her ultimatum, yet never before a few nights ago had she realized she was so afraid of leaving before that deadline. Life was too short and she had wasted two thirds of hers thus far. All the signs pointed to move on, to move past this, and finally be able to be happy. To be normal. To live a life she wanted with a family full of love. To be with the one she loved most in this world and have a goddamn certificate to prove it.
He left her speechless because her smile took over her lips, not letting words through. Then again, he had stolen the words right out of her mouth, in the same form, too. Not a question, a decision for them both, that they both wanted. So she responded to him by reaching up a hand, placing it to the back of his neck, ignoring all pain and bringing him down to her lips. "Sounds great," she whispered into the kiss.
For now she let herself cry, getting out the pain, not saying another word for the next fifteen or so minutes until she could breathe again without puncturing a lung with her ribs. If it were not for the bandages, her ribcage would look horribly grotesque under the skin that clung to it, not an ounce of fat separating the flesh and bone. The sick little girl held onto her brother until the tears finally ceased. Emotional breakdowns were much easier to pull back from, but they hurt ten times worse by tying her heart in knots. "The worst thing in the world... would be to be pulled apart from you," she spoke at last, her voice sounding nervous, shaky. "I should have died, but I didn't. I didn't die for a reason... he almost put his hand right through me and all I could think about was the last words I said to you, and I prayed they were 'I love you.'"
Pulling her head away from his chest, she looked up at him, her eyes puffy and red, one bruised completely around. In this state she did not feel pretty, but she did not need to be in front of him. He was her brother, her best friend, her lover, and "You are everything to me," she told him. "And now's not the right time... I don't think any time will be with us. I don't want anyone to touch me like that again. I don't want... I don't want anyone else to touch me. I don't have a lot of time left... and I want to spend it with you. Alba... I figured out a lot of things... and I... I want... I want to be with you, more than anything..."
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"I do, too." He nodded, finally replying when she looked up at him. "I want to be with you more than anything. Life is short, no matter how you slice it... and here, the slices get pretty thin. You and I have seen people cut down too early. We've cut people down too early. We both know the reality of living the lives we've been given, that you're just as likely to get a bullet through the head as you are to live until your body gives up on you." He smiled at her, reaching for her hand. "We're gonna die, Jinx. We're gonna die any given day. Could be tomorrow, could be ten years, could be fifty. But the odds say we won't know exactly when it will happen. So..."
Alba was a man of logic. A man of reason and rational thought. He rarely acted on impulse, on gut instinct, on primal emotion. Something in Jinx brought it out in him, though, and he couldn't say it was for the worst. Still, this was sudden, even then.
"Marry me."
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All along, this was love. The years she had spent following Gin, Alba was always there. Every time she was hurt, every time she felt heartbroken, Alba was there. And their love seemed to develop, to form into something else entirely, bringing them closer together than she had even been to her own twin brother.
He was right. They could die tomorrow without a second left to say goodbye. All those years of being an assassin she was lucky. She was a woman without fear because she knew her ultimatum, yet never before a few nights ago had she realized she was so afraid of leaving before that deadline. Life was too short and she had wasted two thirds of hers thus far. All the signs pointed to move on, to move past this, and finally be able to be happy. To be normal. To live a life she wanted with a family full of love. To be with the one she loved most in this world and have a goddamn certificate to prove it.
He left her speechless because her smile took over her lips, not letting words through. Then again, he had stolen the words right out of her mouth, in the same form, too. Not a question, a decision for them both, that they both wanted. So she responded to him by reaching up a hand, placing it to the back of his neck, ignoring all pain and bringing him down to her lips. "Sounds great," she whispered into the kiss.
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