hold me really tight (until the stars look big) - II

Tate leaves Jael breathless. She stares at the closed door, her sketchbook slipping out of her hands and landing on the floor with a bang. She doesn't even notice. 
Ninety minutes pass as if they were seconds. Before she knows it she's ready to leave, wearing a pair of skinny jeans with blue sneakers and a light blue sweater. She does one last try to hide the dark cirkels under her eyes, but the make-up doesn't want to cooperate today.

The ride to the airport is awkward, to say at least. Mica is asleep, head on his shoulder, arms protectively curved around her belly. There's a tense silence while he absentmindedly scrolls on his phone, not really searching for anything.

Jael is silent the whole ride to the airport, staring outside the window, taking in every detail from New York City she's seeing now. Polar is in his bench in the back of the taxi, whining as he always does when he's forced into that thing.
Her fingers can't be still. She keeps playing with them, nervously, and then eventually asks: "Can I let my parents know I'm leaving...?" Her voice is silent, she doesn't want to wake Mica.

Tate thinks, then shakes his head. 'You called them on your birthday,' he says.

Jael feels like she's punched in her stomach. She heaves a shaky sigh and looks away. "They have the right to know I'm leaving..." She's not sure why she goes against him. He's probably only going to be mad at her.

'I said no,' Tate sighs, locking his phone and checking his watch, even though there's a clock on that thing. 'Too much contact may suggest you miss them, and they will become suspicious if you still don't want to see them even though you call so much. So no.'

"They are my parents, Tate." Jael's voice is unstable. "They will become suspicious if I don't call them more often. Besides, I didn't even get to say goodbye to them last time..."

'Because your father chose to tell you your murderous ex-boyfriend is out of prison and you got a panic attack,' Tate protests, defensive. 'Don't act like I refused to let you say goodbye to your parents, I was not the bad guy in the scenario.'

Jael looks away wanting to hide that she's on the verge of breaking down crying again. "Fine," she mutters. Her voice has a strange tone. "Fine." A tear runs down her cheek. "Just wanted—just wanted to let them know."

Tate wants to reach out and say he didn't mean to be cruel, but her attitude annoys him, and he's tired, and he's so fucking done, and he doesn't want to wake Mica. So he shakes his head and sags back into the seat.

Jael is just dozing off, head leaning against the car window, when the car stops. She opens her eyes again, a little dazed, and sits up straight. She yawns, somewhat happy she didn't fall asleep. She doesn't want to sleep.
It's drizzling outside. It's whiney weather and she doesn't like it.

Tate wakes Mica, who wipes drool from the corner of her mouth and steps out of the car, shivering even though she wears a black shirt that reaches mid-thigh, yoga pants and a scarf. Tate's driver gets their bags from the back, tips his head and smiles at them when steps back in.

Jael puts Polar on his leash and hangs her guitar bag over her shoulder. Her hand is shaking a little as she grips the handle of her suitcase. Once inside, she keeps walking closely behind Tate and Mica, as if she wants to hide herself.

Tate doesn't really pay attention to Jael, just keeps and eye on her and pulls his bag and Mica's behind him.

Polar is whining a little, noticing Jael is upset, but she doesn't pay attention to it. Her eyes keep shooting left and right, as if she's afraid someone she knows would show up.
She holds in as Tate and Mica stop in front of the huge terminal map. Polar pulls the leash, happily barking as a little girl comes running towards him. Jael can't help but smile a little as she sees the kid's enthusiasm and kneels so she doesn't look all too big. The girl hugs the dog tightly as Jael holds Polar's collar. "Doggy," the kid squeals.

Tate keeps walking, not noticing Jael has stopped, deaf to anything but his own heartbeat.

When the kid is called back to her parents and Jael gets up, Tate and Mica are gone. Her heart skips a beat and she looks, trying to find them. Oh God, he's going to kill me. She pulls her suitcase and half-runs, half-walks, looking, searching for them.

'Tate...' Mica says, tugging at his sleeve like a stubborn child, eyes half-closed, voice rough. She's tired. It's not a good day. Tate wishes he had planned this better, maybe tomorrow would've been better to travel, maybe they should reschedule—
'Tate,' Mica says again, and this time he looks up. She points behind them. 'Jael is gone.'
He turns around in a flash. Fuck.

Jael keeps walking, hoping to run into them when she turns the next corner, but instead of getting closer, she's only walking farther away from them. Her heart is beating in her ears and she's scared, because she knows Tate will never believe she lost them.

Tate manoeuvres Mica onto one of the chairs at gate 13, next to an elderly couple who look at her pregnant belly like they've seen God himself sit down next to them. They smile. Mica closes her eyes, thankful for the minute of rest she's going to get.
'I'm going to look for her, alright? Then I'm coming to get you.'
She nods in agreement and smiles when he kisses her forehead. Tate leaves.

Polar whines when Jael stops to catch her breath. She doesn't even know what gate they're supposed to be at. She knows nothing. Tate tells her nothing. Of course he doesn't.
She looks, trying to find an information post or any security guard. As soon as she sees one, she starts towards him, quickly.

Tate walks around, quickly, eyes scanning security guards talking to girls, knowing she's going to find one. She doesn't know how to get out of here alone, she knows she won't be fast enough. He turns a corner at Gate 5.

Jael wants to adress him, but hesitates, and an older couple is quicker. Nervously she waits, still scanning the crowded terminal.

Tate is pissed. So fucking pissed.

When they're gone, Jael taps his shoulder. "Um—excuse me, I was wondering if you could help me...? I'm—I lost my friends and I can't call them." She holds Polar close to her, holding the leash and the handle of her suitcase in one hand. She's visibly distressed.

It's only when he passes an old couple talking about a dog when Tate realises: She has Polar with her. When you ask people on an airport if you've seen a blonde girl with a suitcase, they'll laugh in your face and say yes. Multiple times. But when you ask people on an airport if they've seen a dog that looks like a snowball—
Only, he doesn't have to ask anyone, because said snowball-looking dog is right there, and said girl is right there behind him. Talking to a—fuck—security guard.

The man is rather friendly to her. But when he asks Jael which gate she's supposed to be at, she doesn't have any clue. "I don't know," she admits. "It's—it's complicated. My friend—his name is Tate Hale." She looks around again and then she sees him. The expression on his face makes her freeze in her shoes. He's furious.

Tate gets his face to do normal, polite things again before he walks towards the guard. 'Jael,' he says, calmly, smiling reassuringly at her. 'We've been looking for you. Where were you all of a sudden?'

Jael hears the anger in his voice even though she knows he tries to hide it. "I lost you," she says, relieved and scared at the same time. "I—" She turns to the security guard. "Thank you for your help... I'll be okay." She manages to smile and then turns to Tate. "It's not what you think it is," she says, quietly.

Tate smiles at the guard thankfully. 'Thanks for helping her, mate,' he says cheerily, steering Jael away while picking up her bag. 'This is exactly what I think it is. Walk faster, I left Mica at one of the gates so I could find you.'

Jael quickly starts walking, but it feels like her legs are made of rubber. "It's not," she protests, "I swear, Tate. I wasn't running. There was a little girl and—and she was petting Polar and then you and Mica were gone, I swear I wasn't running away!" Her voice is wavering a little.

Tate nods. 'Of course,' he sneers. 'It was an accident.' He rolls his eyes, checking the signs and walking left towards gate 13. Mica's still on the chair, the couple talking animatedly besides her.
'...thing you want,' the woman says when they come closer.
Mica nods, looking a whole lot more awake than when Tate left her. 'I will,' she says.

Jael doesn't say anything anymore. She has a hard time hiding her tears as they join Mica again and swallows once or twice to get rid of the lump in her throat.
Of course he doesn't believe her. He's ignorant and stupid... His judgement is clouded. "I'm sorry," she mutters, figuring it's the only thing left to say.

'You will be,' Mica says, going for playfully, but it comes out sinister, like blood on pale lips.
She gets up. Tate gives Jael her own suitcase and grabs his and Mica's, grip tight around the handles.

Jael doesn't really say anything after that and just follows. The boarding and take-off pass by as if they were a blurr and then there's sleep Jael doesn't want, but it falls over her like a thick blanket. She's curled up in her seat, head resting on her arms. She's exhausted.

Mica sleeps, curled up on one of the comfortable seats, while Tate reads the Complete Poems by E. E. Cummings he got for his birthday. There are brackets showing his favourite quotes and underlined sentences that made him think, fingers sliding over the ink like it's a godsend.

One moment it's just a pleasant dream and then there's pitch black, a cold feeling creeping up her spine and closing around her throat as if it were two iron hands. Jael gasps, tries to scream, feeling a stinging pain in her lower stomach, a pain that's so familiar to her it almost paralizes her. 
Do you actually think I'm going to let you keep that thing? You should've been more careful, Jael. You're always so clumsy, so clumsy. You should've been more careful. 
His voice cuts through, leaving a sour taste in Jael's mouth. She tries to say something, but his hands are squeezing her throat and she struggles for dear life, and then his hands change into the cold metal of a knife. Sticky redness dripping down her cleavage as she falls. When her head hits the ground, she wakes with a start, gasping loudly as if she'd been holding her breath the whole time.

Tate startles when she wakes, staring at Jael's trembling body and heaving chest.

Jael doesn't notice him looking. She takes a few deep breaths and buries her face in her hands. She's shaking, the dream still messing with her mind, with her body.

Tate thinks about Jael and her past relationships, about hands that kept slicing her into smaller pieces like she was something to be put away, about mouths that traced her bones like they were searching for her heart but really, all they were doing was search for weak spots, about lips forming thank you, about thank you being a synonym for help me, about help me being a synonym for kill me—
She tried to escape, he tells himself. She tried to escape. Her I love you's will always sound like let me go's, because they are.
He clenches his teeth, denies himself the reassurance of getting closer, of asking what's wrong, of comforting. He clenches his fists.

Jael sobs, quietly. It sounds as if something is still choking her, like Denny's hands are still around her throat, squeezing, squeezing until her eyes would close. She cries silently, tears running down her neck, panic waving through her body.

Tate tries to focus on his book, but he doesn't succeed.

Eventually Jael's crying dies down, eventually her body stops shaking and the panic is gone. She takes a deep breath and wipes away her tears. She hugs herself and stares out of the plane window, head resting on her knees.
She doesn't exactly know how many hours pass until the plane breaks through the clouds. Maybe she slept, maybe she'd been staring outside the entire time, she doesn't even know anymore.

There's food, somewhere around five pm, NYC time. They've had lunch early, before they went on the plane, and Mica is hungry when she wakes. It smells good, for something that was made on a plane.

Jael doesn't eat much and keeps silent the whole time. She doesn't look at Tate or Mica, just stares outside the window.

The landing and retrieving their luggage goes by in a blur, Mica's a bit tired still, because her body thinks it's 10 and the world here says it's 4. It's bright. And warm.
'What now?' she says.
'Now we—Marcus!' A grin breaks out on Tate's face when a dark, built guy comes into view.
'Mica, this is Marcus—Marcus, this is Mikaela Mays.'
'Don't call me that,' Mica says, and then: 'Nice to meet you.' She shakes his hand.
Marcus smiles at her. 'Pleasure.'
He looks at Jael, who's standing behind them, and asks. 'And who is the other lady?'
Tate grimaces, but schools his face quickly. Marcus frowns. 'This is Jael. She's a friend of mine.'

Jael gives Marcus a hesitant smile. "Hello," she says, but that's all. She's holding her suitcase tightly, feeling like she's too much, feeling like she doesn't belong here at all. 
Polar pushes his nose against her leg, asking for some attention. He's probably hungry. She scratches him behind his ear.

Marcus smiles charmingly, nodding a quick 'Nice to meet you,' before turning to Tate. 'You need to go anywhere or straight to the boat?'
'Straight to the boat,' Tate says.
'Boat?' Mica quips.
'Boat,' Marcus and Tate say at the same time.

Jael smiles a little seeing Tate's enthusiasm. She follows silently as they go for Marcus' car. She looks at him every once in a while. He seems nice. She wonders if Tate is going to tell him the whole story, they seem like they're good friends. Somehow that frightens her; two—and with Mica three—persons who will be looking after her.

Marcus drives a dark red Chevrolet Captiva, which he parked all the way at the front of the lot. He squeezes Tate's shoulder shortly before opening the passenger door for Mica, helping her get in.
Mica smiles thankfully.