It's almost as if it takes her entire diaphragm to bellow out that yawnful groan, and then this unfamiliar discomfort pelts through every branch of her skeleton like she'd just bodychecked a wall. Only when she forces her eyes open does Eve realise that the bony pillow imprinted on her cheek is in actuality far from it, and rather the corkscrewed spine of her A4 notebook. And rather than the eyeful of sky she's over the past month or so grown used to waking up to, she's met with the earth-toned landscape of her office.
That same groan manifests itself in her stomach as she unwinds her back, its each and every bone locks into place with a creak. She quickly gathers that she's somehow managed to fall asleep at work, again. Eve has never been one to overwork, but in light of recent events, she suddenly finds herself fuelled by something hungrier than she's used to. She's always been driven, but this drive is suddenly a lot more personalâeven more so than before.
The irony alone in getting mugged outside a youth outreach centreâher own youth outreach centreâby a teenager, at that; if not for the fear it to this day instils in her, she's sure it could make her laugh.
Or cry.
But, as she unfailingly reminds herself, the world goes on.
It takes her a moment to realise she hadn't awoken by her own means, as her ringtone cuts through the silence like a whip. She's slow to snatch it off the desk, not in time to actually answer it. She can only muster up the effort for a thoughtless blink at the unknown number at the bottom of her screen, and then she dismisses it.
Eve floats about the room like a ghost, gathering her things and simultaneously herself. Her broken slumber all but quenched how tired she's really been, but a week of hectic days and sleepless nights will do that to you. And Morgan's scolding alone barely goes in one ear before it somersaults right out the other.
She takes up a fistful of the straps to her new bagâwhich is really just an old one she'd dug out from some forgotten crevice of her closetâand more or less stumbles towards the door like a drunkard. Before she can even think to open it, it seems to open itself and she takes a wretched forehead full of it in the process.
She doesn't make a sound as her head tips backward and pulls the rest of her body floor-bound along with it. She lands on her carpet with a thud, gurgling out something adjacent to a grunt, hands flailing about her throbbing face. When she eventually peers through the cracks in her fingers, she's more than startled to find Jahseh grimacing right back at her.
"What you doing?"
She buffers, briefly, to consider whether or not she's still asleep, but then he steps out from behind that door and takes up two handfuls of her elbows, pulling her onto her feet in one effortless motion, and there is suddenly no doubt about it. That this man is stood before her, in her office, too early for either of them to be awake let alone here. If his unyielding grip isn't convincing enough, the blasted smell of his oud perfusing every last one of her senses is sure to do it.
"JahseâWait, what are you doing here?"
He quietly ogles back at her, and before she can even think to take it as a complimentâdespite the sleep marks surely engraved on her cheek, the day old makeup and the crusts of drool at the corner of her mouthâhe speaks. "I think your nose is bleeding."
She takes a hand to the stretch of skin between her nose and her cupid's bow, and just as he'd suspected, a smidgen of blood patterns the tip of her finger.
"Oh, for Pete's sake."
She turns away from him, fumbling about her desk for a tissue. Meanwhile, Jahseh helps himself to a seat, and rather than either of the two positioned for visitors, he plops down into her own with a huff.
"Sorry 'bout that," he mumbles. He angles his head, watching her bundle a tissue up to her even now hammering nose. "Why was you behind the door?"
"Why was you behind the door?"
Jahseh's default scowl only deepens, "Why you even here?"
"It's my officeâ"
"It's not even 9 AM on a Sunday, you ain't got no business here," Jahseh scoffs. Eve can't even attempt to mount her disbelief, squarely at the fact this is the most he's said to her ever and the sheer audacity of him doing so from her chair while she slumps against the desk like he'd summoned her here. "I should be sleep right now, but I'm getting sent out here looking for you."
She looks him over, unsure what about him is supposed to give sleepy. He looks every bit ready for the day ahead of him. There's not a lick of sleep in either corner of his eyes nor in his prim tracksuit and the wage-worth of trainers on his feet. He looks kempt and beside Eve, in all her heavy-eyed glory, she can't help the self-consciousness that rapidly befalls her.
"Wellâ"
"Your friend's been calling you," Jahseh interrupts her. He keeps his feet planted on the floor as he swings the seat gently to and fro, he casts a wayward glance towards her phone.
"Oh, Morgan sent you."
"No," he frowns again. Eve sighs, one arm still tissued to her face, while the other somewhat holds it up, burgered between her ribcage and folded arm. She's usually more than happy to soak up every bit of delusion his anti-social behaviour has to offer, but today, not so muchâthe week's been far too long, and she's far too tired. She has half a mind to usher him out. He stares her down like she's an animal at the zoo and it grates at her confidence like cheese. "How are you?"
She's sure she gawks, but really it's a frown, an alarmingly curious one, "What?"
"Are you okay?" Jahseh reiterates, but his tone is low and his pace is slow, as if she's dense and not entirely right in her apprehension to his concern.
"I'm fine. Are you okay?"
"I didn't get robbed. You did."
Eve thins her lips. As presumed, the breadcrumbs of compassion he'd littered between them only lead to the humbling sole of his deadpan boot. Because when he talks like that, she feels more or less the size of an ant. He can just about make out her narrowed eyes over that bloodied tissue, sleepy or fed upâeither way, uninterested in sitting around.
"Let's go."
They wade through the coarsest of silences, through swinging doors, down flights of stairs, past all the destitute units. Eve mulls over the unabating carousel that is her whatever-ationship with Jahseh. His distance yet intoxicating proximity, the bitterness to his words yet the honey to their meaning, or rather their intention. Did he come all this way to bust her face open with a door and remind her of her troubles? Or to check that she's okay?
Is she foolish for bothering to wonder why?
"What's that?"
She perks up. Jahseh's feet scuff to a brisk halt, just before the entrance to the Cavea. Where it's typically hooked open, on a Sunday a loose brick footholds one of its doors partly ajar, so a generous slither of light cuts through the corridor's murk. Only, it's not the room itself that seems to anchor Jahseh in his place; it's the singing.
"I let the place out on Sunday, they have church services here," she mumbles. She waits for him to take his next step, only he doesn't. Instead, he gazes through the parted doors like he's spelled in his place. She lets him. The pair linger in the shadows, spying into the half-lit auditorium where a choir of no more than ten gather about the piano to prep for their service.
Awesome wonder
When I, in awesome wonder
Consider all the worlds Thy hands have made
I see the stars
I hear the rolling thunder
Thy power throughout the universe displayed
Thenâ
"Let's go."
Eve is almost too enamoured by their sheer divinity to notice Jahseh's departure, but when she does he's already halfway out the building. She scuttles after him. Just like that, there's a dire plunge in his mood. Maybe the time of day catches up to him, or maybe it's that prevailing annoyance he can't seem to fight off for the life of him. Despite the dried blood in her nose and his irritationâat herself and everything around himâshe still finds herself thankful. She tells herself he cares, even if it's just the tiniest bit, and that's more than nothing.
He walks her right up to her car, driver's side and all. And when she unlocks it, he pulls the door open for her, waits for her to climb inside, and then pushes it shut. He stands with his hands in his pockets, watching as she turns on the engine and winds down the window. "Thank you, Jahseh."
"Hm." He hums, "You want breakfast?"
Eve yawns, quickly flushing her hand against her mouth, and then answers, "I'm so tired, I want sleep." Although internally, she reels over how on earth Morgan had managed to not only get Jahseh to come and check for her, but feed her too.
"Tomorrow then."
"O-oh. Okay."
Jahseh nods, and then backpedals to his own car tucked right behind hers. Her mouth falls open in shockâdelightâbut shock. She gapes at him through her mirrors as he goes. When he gets into his own car, she realises he has no intention of pulling off before she does.
She casts him one last look, bows her head to squeal as discreetly as the rising sun allows, and begins the short drive home.
Don't get used to these long ass chapters, I want to keep it short and cute! I just talk too much, lol.
This whole no plan whatsoever, going with the flow thing is SCARY! Because I could be laying out things for the future of this story NOW and I'm not because I don't even KNOW what the future of the story is! Like I have the vaguest idea ever.
Thoughts and feels, pleaseeee! Jah came to check for Eve. Someone tell him get uppp!
Speaking of get up, when will I tire of embarrassing this poor girl? It's just so funny to write, she's so me.
Breakfast date? Yayyyyy. Already got something in mind for THAT. Anyway. Let me know your thoughts guysss!
See ya soon! (I'm on a roll)
Also didn't proofread, soz idc