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It’s not that Jinnah has any sort of desire to get back together with Seven. No, that’s absolutely the last thing she’d want to do. Ever. That boat has long since passed.
It’s just.
She don’t really want her to be with anyone else, either. Jinnah, of course, can understand how it seems like a weirdly possessive thought to have about an ex—who she is a thousand percent over, for the record—and if Jinnah ever learned that Seven had similar thoughts about her, she’d probably laugh in her face. But just the idea of Seven kissing someone else, holding them in the same way she’s held her so many times, makes Jinnah feel the teeniest bit homicidal. It makes her feel sick to her stomach. It goes against her entire understanding of the world and the natural order of things.
If Seven can’t have Jinnah—which she can’t, obviously—she should just spend the rest of her life alone. It’s all quite logical, really.
And Jinnah knows she really, really shouldn’t say anything. She’s done such a good job at ignoring Seven thus far, but that stupid article speculating about Seven and Avina has been gnawing at her so much lately and now that she’s in front of her, leaning against the wall pointedly not looking at her, Jinnah can’t just not say anything—
“Are you and Avina dating?” The words fall out without a trace of tact.
Seven jerks a little at being addressed—at Jinnah addressing her—and turns to face her. Her brows are raised in a picture of utter surprise and confusion. “What?”
Jinnah rolls her eyes at having to ask again, but clears her throat nonetheless. “Are you—“
“Don’t repeat it.” It comes out quickly, almost heated like she’s upset with the line of questioning. It doesn’t really phase Jinnah, considering she seems to be upset at just about everything nowadays. “Why do you care?”
Jinnah huffs at the accusatory tone of the question. “I don’t.”
Seven is silent for a moment, eyes seeming to inspect Jinnah’s expression. A bit of Jinnah’s annoyance slips at this, having Seven’s full and undivided attention. She doesn’t want to analyze why that is. Her body shifts a little under Seven’s watchful gaze.
All too soon, Seven is looking away dismissively. “Good, because it’s none of your business either way.”
God , Jinnah hates that answer. Even more than that, she hates that she can’t respond refuting that it is indeed her business because well, it isn’t really, is it? Not anymore at least.
Jinnah rolls her eyes, annoyed. “Whatever.”
There’s a stiff moment of silence between them. The din of conversation from all the other contestants is a mindless hum, soundtracking the moment. Seven looks on, expression morphing into something utterly dispassionate and it frustrates Jinnah to no end. It makes her want to claw at her. To open her up and see all the machinations. Her every thought, everything that was once so familiar, laid bare for her. Another part of her—a much much smaller part, mind—just wants to beg her. Jinnah’s not even entirely sure what she’d be asking for, but the instinct is there. Like a physical presence looming over Jinnah’s shoulder. A phantom haunting her.
Jinnah shudders suddenly at her train of thought. She shakes her head slightly, willing it all to go away. It’s just the tension, Jinnah reasons, that palpable thing that hangs over their every interaction that always makes her feel a little… off. A little wrong. Mostly Jinnah just feels restless, she’s never done well with uncertainty. Always one to act, to speak. For some reason, this conversation with Seven makes her careful. There’s a familiarity to it.
In the pause, Jinnah allows her gaze to linger. It occurs to her that this is probably the closest they’ve been since that disaster of a shoot with Blake. She’s not wearing her bandana today, definitely not her idea. Truth be told, Jinnah always liked when she went without it for entirely selfish reasons. It was easier to run her hands through her hair without the intrusion.
“What about you?” Seven says it so low, if Jinnah hadn’t been waiting so intently for more words to fall from her lips she’d have missed it.
“What about me?” Jinnah echoes.
“You,” she starts. Her voice is even, too even. Like she’s making a concerted effort to keep it that way. “And August.”
That has Jinnah raising her brows. She hadn’t really considered how her and August’s dynamic might look from the outside, and beyond that hadn’t really considered that Seven would be paying much attention to it. To be fair, Jinnah has been keeping a bit closer to the drummer, mainly out of concern for them assimilating into the band. And sure, there’s been some flirtation here and there, but frankly Jinnah will flirt with just about anyone who’s willing to give the same energy back. It was never meant to be anything serious. Jinnah has just about had her fill of dating bandmates. But Seven doesn’t know that.
“Torrid love affair.” Jinnah responds flatly, nodding once in a somewhat mocking sage manner. “Super hot and steamy.”
Seven’s face scrunches up in a manner that has Jinnah struggling not to find endearing. “Shut up.”
Jinnah shrugs one shoulder, unable to move her eyes from Seven’s perturbed expression. “You asked.”
Seven huffs, brow furrowed. “If you weren’t gonna tell the truth, you could’ve just ignored the question.”
Jinnah raises a brow that Seven can’t see because she still won’t fucking look at her. “Who says I’m not telling the truth?”
“I do.”
Jinnah clicks her tongue. “Then why ask?”
“Because.”
Jinnah rolls her eyes at that, a mocking half smile on her lips. “So eloquent.”
“You’re so—” Seven cuts herself off with a pinched expression, but Jinnah gets the idea. She still hasn’t turned her gaze back to her, and Jinnah is starting to find it a little frustrating for reasons she can’t rightly explain. Seven shakes her head causing an errant curl to fall in her face and Jinnah has to physically stop herself from brushing it away. An old instinct leftover from when they were both entirely different people. Seven’s hand comes up and does the job for her, sparing Jinnah the turmoil.
Jinnah swallows, reorienting herself. “Right. Compared to you who’s just a ray of sunshine.”
There’s another pause. Jinnah sees Seven glance at her in what is probably an attempt at being inconspicuous, but it doesn’t work because Jinnah has not stopped staring directly at her face. Seven shifts slightly, an awkward movement that has Jinnah tilting her head in an attempt to discern the reason. She’s spared her guessing when Seven speaks again.
“…are you?” Are you actually seeing August? Jinnah’s mind finishes what Seven’s uncharacteristically meek tone seems to suggest. If Jinnah were a worse person she’d play dumb here, force Seven to form the whole question. Make her ask what she wants to ask so she has to more fully contend with the fact that she felt the need to ask it. Jinnah isn’t that person though. Not in this moment, at least. She doesn’t interrogate why.
Jinnah feels it again, that phantom presence pressing against her. Its yearning washes over her. It urges at her to reach out. To give in. To press her face into Seven’s neck and gasp at the way they fit just right. To just let go of her pride and be the pathetic one and beg on her knees for Seven to make her whole again. Jinnah swallows, maintains some semblance of control, but it’s a very close thing.
“…no.” She admits on an exhale, a vulnerability seeping into her tone that she has difficulty reigning in. Their conversation has moved beyond pretenses for now, it seems. “Are you?”
Jinnah watches the way Seven’s throat bobs slightly before she responds. “No.”
And it’s all out there now. Plain and clear. Jinnah tries and fails to ignore the way it quite literally feels like a weight has been lifted off of her chest at the admission.
“Good.” It falls from Jinnah’s lips without her meaning to. And even then she doesn’t realize what she’s said until Seven is finally turning to her and—
“What?” Seven blinks.
“What?” Jinnah parrots.
“You said—“ Seven shakes her head, as though trying to right something in her head. “You said good like—“
“No, I didn’t.” Jinnah lies. Just flat out lies. She cuts her eyes to the somewhat perturbed looking photographer now attempting to get Seven’s attention. It’s such fortuitous timing. “Go, they’re calling you.”
Seven doesn’t move, keeps her gaze focused directly on Jinnah. And god , this feeling—of being caught in each other’s gaze, of the entire world falling away—is so familiar Jinnah could cry with the ache of it. She won’t. She’d never. But she could .
“Don’t waste my time.” The severe looking woman calls, insistent.
Seven remembers herself suddenly and finally breaks eye contact. Jinnah’s body does a weird thing where it feels like it doesn’t know if it should be relieved or forlorn that Seven’s attention has moved on. But that’s such a silly thought. Such a silly feeling. Jinnah pushes it down, away, out of sight. The important thing is that Seven is still single and probably incredibly miserable without her.
Seven leaves then, walking over to the set they have made up for her. She still looks a little stiff as the photographer begins giving her directions that Jinnah can’t hear. Then—
Intense green eyes catch hers once more and Jinnah feels her breath catch in her throat. Something like a deer in headlights. It lasts for all of a second before Seven’s blinking and turning away. Jinnah has to physically stop herself from doing something foolish like putting a hand to her chest to soothe the aching of her heart.
God, I hate her so much.