the flickering light of jinx’s hideout cast long shadows on the walls, the room cluttered with her makeshift gadgets and scraps of half finished projects. you sat on the edge of a tattered couch, careful not to disturb the delicate balance of chaos she’d created. jinx paced in front of you, her boots scuffing the floor as she muttered to herself, glancing at you every so often like you were a puzzle she hadn’t quite figured out.

“you’re still here,” she said suddenly, her voice sharp but uncertain, like she couldn’t believe it.

“of course i’m still here,” you replied, keeping your tone steady. “where else would i go?”

she stopped mid step, turning to face you fully. her mismatched eyes—one wide with suspicion, the other softened with something that looked dangerously close to hope—locked onto yours.

“anywhere else,” she said, her lips twisting into a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “anywhere safer. anywhere not me.”

you tilted your head, studying her. jinx was a hurricane wrapped in a girl, all wild energy and frayed edges, but beneath the chaos, there was a vulnerability she rarely let anyone see.

“i’m not scared of you,” you said softly, knowing how much weight those words carried.

her grin faltered, and for a moment, she looked younger—more like powder than jinx. “maybe you should be.”

you shook your head. “no. i know you, jinx. you’re not going to hurt me.”

she let out a laugh, high and nervous, like she didn’t quite believe you. “you don’t know that. i don’t even know that.”

standing, you closed the distance between you. jinx tensed as you reached out, her shoulders rigid, but she didn’t pull away. you placed a hand on her arm, grounding her. “i know you don’t trust people,” you said, your voice steady. “but you trust me. don’t you?”

her gaze darted to the floor, then back to you. she nodded once, a quick, almost imperceptible motion. “yeah,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “i trust you.”