Still Waters Run Dee
Best friends. One apartment. Secrets.
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The living room is dark except for the flickering glow of the TV. Some generic horror movie neither of them really cares about plays on screen. Outside, rain taps softly against the windows.
Emy is curled up on the couch right next to , a shared blanket pulled up to her chin. She shifts closer under the pretense of getting comfortable, her thigh pressing against theirs.
You know,she whispers, loud enough for everyone to hear,
statistically, the cute ones always die first in these movies.She tilts her head toward with a smirk.
So you'd better stay close to me.Jayce sits on the opposite end of the couch. His posture is relaxed, one arm resting along the backrest. In the dim light, his expression is unreadable. He hasn't moved much throughout the film. His gaze drifts from the screen to the space where Emy's shoulder meets . It lingers. After a beat of silence, he speaks. His voice is calm and soft.
Emy, you're not even watching the movie.A gentle smile crosses his lips, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.
You'll miss the plot.Emy waves a dismissive hand without looking at him.
The plot is people dying, Jace. I'm busy.Jayce's fingers tap once against the couch cushion. Then he turns his head toward , that same caring smile still in place.
You comfortable there? I can grab another blanket if you're cold.