Crack.
The noise startles me, and I almost trip on the blankets as I bring them downstairs, giving me a mini heart attack. It doesn't sound like the storm will be stopping anytime soon.
When I get down to the basement, I walk down the short hallway and peek around the corner.
"Paloma?"
She jumps, clearly a bit on edge. She doesn't look too good either. Curled up in the corner of the room, refusing to sit on the couch because it's underneath a window.
She's changed into the clothes I gave her, but even though I tried to find the biggest I own, they're still a bit small on her. Seeing her wearing my clothes gives me a familiar squirming feeling in my stomach. I shove it down.
Her face seems drained of color and she nervously tugs on her hair. It's kind of curly and straightens when she pulls it down before bouncing back up to its original shape.
I drop the blankets in the middle of the room and plant myself next to her, hoping to offer some sort of comfort.
"How are you holding up?"
"I'm alright, I guess..."
"I'm guessing you don't like thunderstorms very much, huh?"
Paloma chuckles softly. I feel a familiar tingling sensation in my gut. I shift slightly and our arms touch. I am suddenly very aware of the warmth of her skin. I pray she can't see my face heating up. Shove it down, Jocelyn.
"No, not... not really,"
"Is there a reason for that?"
"There is, actually,"
She takes a deep breath.
"When my brother and I were about 8, our parents took us on a camping trip. It was pretty standard, as far as camping trips go. With the whole setting up a tent and sleeping bags, roasting marshmallows over an open fire. That night, though..."
She trailed off. I nudge her gently, urging her to go on.
"...That night, there was a huge storm. Pounding rain, really loud thunder, bright flashes of lightning, all that good stuff. I thought our tent was gonna collapse on us or something. Naturally, being children, Austin and I were both absolutely petrified. Neither of us could sleep that night, and I don't think our parents could either."
A crack of thunder. A flash of lighting. Paloma lets out a yelp and tries to scoot farther into the corner, as if pushing hard enough will make her absorb into the wall.
"Hey, it's ok... you're ok..." I try my best to calm her, but I'm not sure how well it's working. I'd thought that maybe talking would help distract her, but I guess not as much as I'd hoped.
"Uh... does Austin also hate thunderstorms?"
Talking might not calm her down completely, but it does distract her temporarily. Right now it's the only option I can think of that wouldn't seem outrageously gay.
"He... doesn't, actually. The storm scared the everliving fuck out of both of us that night, but Austin... he's not the type of person to hold onto things, you know? He got over it. I, however... clearly did not," Paloma chuckles again at the end of her sentence.
"Sorry for that, by the way. The whole spontaneously staying the night because I'm too astraphobic to go home in the middle of a thunderstorm,"
"It's alri-" I'm cut off by another deep rumbling thunder, lasting about 5 seconds. Paloma pales and her eyes get wide as dinner plates. I hear her breath hitch. Her arm is shaking against mine. Both lift and cover her head, still shaking. I see her eyes squeeze shut and her breath become more rapid.
Shit.
I inwardly kick myself for not paying more attention to people comforting me when I'm upset, because if I did, I might have learned a thing or two.
It doesn't help that I'm an only child. Why couldn't my dads have adopted me some younger siblings?
As I desperately try to remember basic comforting skills, I can sense Paloma getting more and more skittish, and I have a feeling she's not far from a full-blown panic attack. If I can't calm her down now, what am I supposed to do when that happens?
Unless...
Looks like we're going with the gay plan.
Deep breaths, Joss. Don't make it gayer than it has to be.
In, out.
Oh but you want it to be gayer.
Shut the fuck up.
"Paloma?"
She lifts her head just the slightest bit.
"Do you- uh- I mean. Would it be ok if I-"
Goddammit, Jocelyn, you had one job.
Paloma's lifted her head a bit more, and I can see her puzzled expression. I also see her eyes, which seem to have glossed over, like she's about to cry.
Well shit, now I have to do this.
Inhale, exhale. Don't be a coward. If she suspects anything I can just say it's platonic. Totally normal thing for two girls to be doing.
"Paloma..."
I hold out my hand and look anywhere but her face, praying she can't see mine heating up. I brace myself for rejection, fully prepared to awkwardly pull my hand away and cringe about this for the next ten years.
I swear to fuck I almost stop breathing completely when I feel her hand slip into mine.
Somehow, I muster up the courage to look down to make sure I'm not dreaming. Sure enough, I see her hand intertwined with mine. It's a nice contrast. Hers a warm brown, mine the color of sand. I give her hand a squeeze, as if testing the limits of this newfound miracle. To my surprise, she squeezes back.
Huh.
So this is what development feels like.
so urm hai lovelies <333333
it's been a minute since I posted a new oneshot...
I started it a month ago and then forgot about it for a few weeks...
hope you enjoyed it :D
there's another one coming
eventually
maybe
I hope
bye
-JJZ
