~The Shy and The Stubborn~ (the santa clause)

Chapter 27: pinky promise

"Can I take your car, Bernard? I just need to zip by my place to get some jammies."

Bernard was looking a lot better - he was sitting up, keeping fluids down, and his fever had gone down a lot. But Justice didn't feel comfortable leaving him by his lonesome just yet. He was still warm and a tad delirious from his sickness, and she wanted him to be okay. So, she decided she was staying another night at his, though she wanted to get some of her own pyjamas from her home, as much as she liked sleeping in Bernard's clothes.

"Can I come with?" Bernard asked, pushing his covers off of his body a little, his voice still a little weak.
"Hm? Why's that?" Justice asked, looking up from where she sat on the edge of his bed, lacing up her shoes.
"I just think I need some air. I don't like being cooped up in my house so long," he sighed.

He wasn't telling the whole truth. He didn't want to be alone.

"Alright. If you think you're up to it," Justice hummed, standing up from the bed. "Promise you won't pass out the second we leave the house?"

Bernard grinned, holding out a pinky.

"Pinky promise."

Something stung harshly within Justice. This petty, childish little thing, something which hardly meant a thing in the grand scheme of things, held a sacred place in her heart.

It's all she and Jaime ever used to do.

Justice put on a brave face, and didn't pause to see if Bernard acknowledged the lapse in her demeanour as she linked her pinky with his and squeezed perhaps tighter than she had intended, like she was frightened he'd leave as well.

Bernard threw on a cardigan and his slippers and joined Justice in his car. He told her he'd be fine to drive if she was still feeling iffy about it, but she insisted that she'd drive while he was still recovering.

It was evident that having Bernard in the car with her while she drove helped her confidence. Even after not having driven since her accident, Bernard sort of instilled that rationality in her mind that she often found herself without. The roads weren't busy, it was light out, and so long as she drove carefully, she'd be alright.

Eventually, they pulled up to Justice's house. She climbed out of the car, and Bernard moved to follow her, albeit slower, wrapping his cardigan tighter around himself as the breeze caught his still-sensitive skin. His movements were careful, deliberate, as though his limbs were still remembering how to be steady.

Justice let him into the familiar surroundings, where he had taken her home after the Valentines dance, where he helped her bathe, where they smoked pot together, where they made love for the first time. It felt weird to be back here with him.

She and Bernard made their way to her bedroom, and she gestured for him to sit on her made bed while she began stuffing a bag with clothes and toiletries.
As she did, Bernard couldn't help but look around. He remembered that poster of Jeff Buckley shirtless above her bed which stared at him when he took her home while she was drunk that one time. Then, his eyes wandered to one of her nightstands. He mustn't have paid much attention last time he was here, or maybe it was too dark for him to see.

There, in a handmade frame, decorated in seashells messily yet lovingly hot glued to it, was a picture of Justice and Jaime. They were huddled close together, Jaime had his arm slung around Justice's shoulder, and she was snuggled into his side. They must've been at the beach or something. They were smiling.

"This is cute," Bernard hummed with a fond grin, carefully picking the frame up and looking at the picture more intently.

Justice didn't respond right away.