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

Tate wants to kiss her again, but doesn't. He thinks about his mother, telling him to go for it, to not let go of what's right in front of him, but he also thinks about Stockholm syndrome, about Jael and how far she will go to escape, about Denny.

Jael's eyes wander off and she closes her eyes, slips her arms around his neck again for a hug. Her breathing is steady, just as his. 'You're warm,' she whispers.

Tate doesn't say anything, wouldn't know what to even if he wanted to.

Jael finally lets go of him. 'We should get back,' she say. Her voice sounds as if it's not her own.
She looks around to find Polar and sees the dog playing with and eating snow. 'Come here, boy!' she calls.

Tate starts walking back, unsure what changed, unsure what's going to stay and what's going to vanish when they get back to the house.

Jael follows him, tries to think about other things, distractions, but it doesn't work. Tate kissed her back. He kissed her back and it was good, it was great.
Tate is walking fast and she has a hard time to keep up with him. 'Please say something,' she eventually tries to break the silence. She feels wrecked, and his silence is scaring her.

Tate looks at her, face open and relaxed and he smiles, but it doesn't really reach his eyes. 'What happens next?'

Jael hesitates. 'I don't know… Isn't that--Isn't that up to you to decide…?' She smiles a little uncomfortably.

Tate frowns. 'Isn't that a mutual decision?'

Jael looks away. 'You'd regret me,' she whispers, voice thick. 'Let's just go inside, okay?' She walks past him to the entrance of the building.

Tate's still frowning, running after her, grabbing her wrist. 'Why would I regret you? Why would I regret you?'

Jael stops, turns to him. 'Because I'm absolutely not worth it, Tate.' She has a pained look in her eyes. 'You deserve better.'

Tate barks out a laugh. 'I am the one who deserves better? Jael, have you realised what kind of situation we're in? I am not the one who deserves better here.'

Jael shakes her head, desperate. 'I'm… trying so, so hard not to.' Her voice is strained. 'I'm trying so hard not to give in, Tate. You'd absolutely loathe me.' She pulls her wrist away, doesn't want to face him.

'Loathe you?' Tate exclaims, not too loud. 'How... What kind of things do you think you have done that would make me loathe you, considering what I have done?'

Jael's tearing up. 'I don't want to tell you. I'm--I'm not ready to talk about that. He'd…' He'd rip her to shreds. He'd destroy everything that was left of her.
She steps away, her eyes full of fear. Tate's disappeared. It's Denny that's standing in front of her, his eyes flickering, his mouth twisted in a charming smile.

Tate doesn't come any closer, Jael's eyes having glazed over. He's angry, pissed even, that she doesn't fucking want to trust him. But he also knows the signs of a starting panic attack, so he opens the door and slowly guides her inside.

Jael tries to breathe. 'N-no, don't--' she whispers. 'I'm--I'm sorry, please don't.' She's still thinking it's Denny right next to her, with his silver rings that would leave bruises everywhere. Her fragile body is quivering. 'I promise it won't happen again, please don't,' she keeps begging.

Tate knows, realises now, that it's not him she's seeing. He knows about the fathom touches, the hallucinations, so he pushes her inside, rushes up the stairs.

Jael is crying now, constantly begging Tate, 'please don't please don't please don't', frightened, fighting against his grip.

Tate hopes, prays to a god he doesn't believe in, that none of Mica's neighbours see him dragging a girl into an apartment against her will. When inside, he pushes her against his chest again, murmuring constant pleas of 'breathe with me, c'mon, Jael. Just copy my breaths.'

Jael chokes on her tears, tries to pull away. 'Let me go, let me go, please, let me go,' she begs him, voice quivering. She sobs, completely out of control. She doesn't even hear Tate's voice.

Tate is still standing against the door, Jael in his arms, when Mica comes to see what all the disturbance is about.
'Panic attack', is the first thing he says. 'This isn't normal, Mica. She's fucking terrified. Remember what Dr. Dali used to say? Based on trauma. Based on trauma.' He keeps his breathing even, doesn't let go. Mica looks like she's going to be sick.

Jael fights to get air, feels like she's suffocating. Her cheeks and neck are wet with tears, she's struggling to snap out of it. Maybe it's just a dream. 'Stop it,' she sobs. 'Please, stop.' And then Denny is gone and she's in Tate's arms and she collapses, crying like someone just tried to kill her.

Tate keeps breathing steadily, catches her, talking soothingly close to her ear.

Jael finally manages to breathe again. Her heart is still racing like crazy and she's trembling, but she's calming down. She's in Tate's arms, against his chest. 'I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry,' she keeps repeating.

Tate shakes his head, 'nothing to be sorry for, you hear me?'

Jael turns in his arms and pushes her face against his shoulder. Her fragile body is still trembling, but she's getting better. 'I didn't mean to,' she whispers. 'I swear, I didn't mean to.'

'Didn't mean to what?' Mica inquires.

Jael closes her eyes and tries to breathe. Her cheeks are wet with tears, just as Tate's sports shirt.. 'To do any of this,' she says. Her voice is weird, distant. Kissing Tate, opening up afterwards. If she wouldn't have, she'd be good now…

Tate is confused, doesn't get it anymore. He closes his eyes.

Jael lets go of Tate and rubs her eyes to get rid of the tears. 'I'm… I'm sorry, Tate.' She bites her lower lip. 'Did I hurt you…?'

Tate shakes his head. 'Nope.'
Mica stands in front of them, eyes focused, eyebrows knitted together. She looks confused.

Jael doesn't look at either Tate or Mica. 'I'm… going to take a bath.' She smiles uncomfortably and starts towards the guest room.

Mica nods, silently, steps out of the way when Jael passes. She raises her eyebrows when the girl is out of earshot. 'What did you do?' she asks the minute she thinks Jael can't hear her anymore. 'Tate, did you kiss her?' She looks away, rolls her eyes. 'Look at your face, of course you kissed her.'
'Truth to be told, she kissed me,' Tate shrugs. 'I just reciprocated.'

Jael sits down on their bed and stares at her hands. Again there are tears. She touches her lips with her fingertops, can't stop thinking about how he kissed her back.
Denny would be furious. He would know. He would destroy whatever is left of her now. Would gladly pick a fight with Tate. He would know they kissed, he knew and still knows her like no other.

Mica sputters. 'She kissed you? Really?'
Tate sighs, rolls his eyes, voice dramatic: 'You always tell me how attractive I am, Micky, and now you can't believe a girl kissed me. I'm hurt.' He lays his hand over his heart.
Mica punches him. 'Don't call me Micky. I'm not seven.'
'The fact that there are enough juice boxes in your fridge to clench the thirst of an army refutes that.'

Jael gets up and decides to take a bath later. She pushes open the door and finds Mica and Tate still in the hall, scolding each other sarcastically.
She takes a deep breath. 'I guess I owe you an explanation,' she then says, her voice less steady and confident than she wanted it to be.

'Kinda,' Mica shrugs. Tate gives her a scolding look.

Jael bites her lower lip. 'Could we sit down? I'm… more comfortable sitting down.' She's a little nervous, does her best to avoid both their looks.

Tate nods, grabs Mica's wrist, pulls her into the living room. They sit down on the couch. Tate points at the chair opposite to them.

Jael sits down, back straight, hands folded in her lap. 'They started when I was still with Denny… The panic attacks. And the nightmares.' Her voice is unstable. She glances at Mica. 'I told you he was kind of my therapy… One of my former boyfriends--' She stops, stares down at her hands. 'Kyle. He was sweet--most of the time. But sometimes he'd--he'd get out of control, you know? He'd be irritated and nothing would please him, and he'd... take it out on me, I guess...? He um…' She stops again, looks at Tate. She's feeling really, really small. 'He hit me.'

Tate nearly growls, eyes blazing. Mica lays a hand on his arm. He barely calms down. 'He did what?'

Jael shakes her head a little. 'He was really kind, and he cared for me. But he was also manipulative. And self-centered, dangerous. He--' Her already unstable voice cracks. 'He had me in his clutches for more than two and a half, almost three years. He wrecked me, inside and out. He mentally, physically and… and sexually abused me and I let it happen because no one--no one would ever believe me.' She is fighting against the tears. 'When I finally had the courage to break up with him, I ended up in the--in the hospital with a concussion, broken bones and a cut from here,' she gestures towards under her right breast, 'to here.' Her hand is now on her left hip. 'He tried to kill me when I was in, by cutting open my wrists.' She can't talk anymore. She doesn't even look up, doesn't want to see how they react.

Mica's hand is hot on his leg, fingers clenching his thigh, not only to ground him, but also because she's pissed. Neither one of them says anything.

Jael is quiet. She's hugging herself, hands trembling. She doesn't even think about looking up and waits for either Mica or Tate to say something.

None of them says anything for a while. Mica's hand is still heavy on his leg, fingers squeezing. She looks up at him. He nods.
She turns to Jael. 'You're safe now,' she says. 'I know it's hard to believe, but you're safe now.'

Jael looks at Tate, knowing he was pissed about what she said after their kiss. She catches Mica's eyes and then says: "He's in jail now. Before he got the chance to get to me in the hospital, he was caught. It's just... He'll come free in a little less than two months and I know—I know he's going to come look for me. To pay me back." Her voice is surprisingly calm.

Tate nods. 'He's not coming anywhere near you.'

Jael rubs her eyes getting rid of the tears that were coming again. "You don't know him," she murmurs, barely audible. And then there's Denny... He's just as bad, but she'd rather die than tell Tate about him.