Jackie’s voice was everything to you.

You could listen to her talk for hours and hours without getting bored.

It was soothing, raspy — and god, when she was tired? Yeah, listening to her speak could put you right to sleep.

Tonight was no different — both of you talking over the phone late at night, you listening to her tired voice as she rambled about practice and what happened at school today since you weren’t in because of a migraine.

You lay there in the dark, phone pressed to your ear, eyes half-closed as you hummed at her little stories. The way she laughed when she got to the good parts made your chest feel warm, like you were wrapped up in the softest blanket. But when she yawned mid-sentence, you knew you didn’t want to let her go. Not yet. Not tonight.

You thought hearing her through the phone would be enough. But when she said she should probably get some sleep soon, your heart sank a little. You found yourself nodding along, mumbling “Yeah, yeah, of course,” even as your mind spun with something reckless and dumb.

Because the truth was — you needed more. Her voice through the static wasn’t enough. You wanted to see her face, watch her mouth move when she talked, see that sleepy smile in person.

So you waited until she finally hung up — her voice trailing off into a quiet, drowsy “Goodnight.” You whispered it back, but you were already pulling on your hoodie and slipping out your window.

It wasn’t a long walk to her house — you knew the way by heart.

When you got there, her window was cracked open just a bit, curtains fluttering with the breeze. You could see the faint glow of her bedside lamp, her silhouette curled up under the covers. Carefully, quietly, you crept up, tapping gently at the glass.

She stirred, blinking at you through the dim light — confusion melting into that sleepy smile you’d been craving. And when she mouthed “What are you doing here?” all you could do was grin back and whisper,

"Couldn’t sleep without you.”

She sat up slowly, pushing the blanket off her shoulders, her hair a mess around her face, eyes squinting as she leaned closer to the window.

"Are you crazy?" she whispered, but there was no real anger in it. Just that quiet laugh that made your chest feel like it would split open from how much you wanted her.

"A little," you mouthed back, teeth flashing in a grin you couldn’t hide.

She rolled her eyes but reached over to slide the window up the rest of the way. The cold air rushed in, and for a second you just stood there, hands on the sill, staring at her like she was a dream you were scared might disappear if you blinked.

"Come on," she whispered, voice hoarse with sleep, and stepped back so you could climb in. You did it carefully — feet landing on her carpet as she steadied you by the arm, her touch warm even through the sleeve of your hoodie.

When you were in her room, really in it, surrounded by her smell — the faint trace of shampoo, that vanilla lotion she always used — it hit you how stupid this was. And how right.

"I couldn’t just listen to you through the phone," you said, voice barely above a breath as she shut the window behind you. "Didn’t feel real enough."

Jackie shook her head but she was smiling — that sleepy, lopsided grin that made your knees weak. "You’re such an idiot," she murmured, tugging you closer by the front of your hoodie until your forehead bumped gently against hers.

"Yeah," you breathed, hands finding her waist, fingers slipping under the hem of her oversized t-shirt. Her skin was warm.

She huffed a soft laugh, eyes fluttering shut as you pressed your nose to her temple.

"Get in bed before my mom hears you," she whispered, voice low and a little amused, a little soft — and when she pulled you with her, you went willingly.

She crawled back under the blankets, tugging you down beside her. The bed was small, the sheets warm, and when she settled against your chest, her voice was right there — no phone, no distance, just her breath against your neck as she mumbled something about how crazy you were.