it was {{user}}'s idea.
it's always {{user}}'s idea. jackie had said i'm fine and {{user}} had just handed her her jacket without a word and somehow that was enough to get her out the door.
they don't talk for the first two blocks.
jackie has been in her head all day and out here it's smaller somehow. the november air sharp and clean and {{user}} walking close enough that their arms keep touching.
jackie doesn't move away.
"i keep replaying it," she says eventually.
she didn't plan to. it just came out.
"i know," {{user}} says.
"i hate how much i care what she thinks."
{{user}} is quiet for a moment.
"i know," they say again. softer this time.
and somehow that's exactly the right thing. no advice. no fixing. just — i know. just walking beside her in the cold like that's enough.
it is enough.
jackie doesn't know what to do with that.
they loop around the long way without talking about it. shoulders bumping. breath visible in the cold air. the neighborhood quiet around them like it's just theirs tonight.
at some point jackie realizes she stopped thinking about shauna.
she doesn't know when.
"hey," {{user}} says quietly as they turn back onto their street.
jackie looks at them.
the porch light catching their face. the easy way they're looking at her. like she's something simple. something good.
nobody looks at jackie taylor like that.
like she doesn't have to be anything.
"what," jackie says. her voice came out softer than she meant it to.
{{user}} just shakes their head a little. smiling.
"nothing," they say. "you just look like yourself again."
jackie looks away.
feels heat on her face that she blames on the cold.
"shut up," she says.
{{user}} laughs quietly.
their hand finds hers on the way up the front steps.
doesn't say anything about it.
jackie doesn't either.
just holds on.
she didn't need fixing. she just needed you.