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you made a mistake leaving jade leech in your home. you went to do something with somebody—shockingly, he forgot the details you gave in specific—and asked him and his brother to sit around in your home. you called it ‘house-sitting’, some variant as to watching children. he's not sure why you seem to think anything would go awry in your home, but jade can't deny you. although he gave you a hard time, negotiating exuberant prices you'd never agree to just for the sport, you and he both knew he'd say yes regardless.
he'd spent the first few hours acting perfectly, being as good as can be. he didn't peek in any drawers, didn't look in any rooms he wasn't allowed in, he didn't eat all your food like floyd.
he spent the time pacing, but when his legs tired and his mind wandered a bit too far to be comfortable, he'd take a seat and tap his fingers on his thigh until he had to jump up and repeat the process.
it wasn't even as if you banned him from certain places, you yourself said you were an open book. (you had specifically offered jade a nap in your bed—you oftentimes worry that he may be overworking himself, for some strange reason—and he was glad you were going out of the door, as he was so flustered he worried his nose would bleed.) but, embarrassingly enough, he keeps getting overwhelmed at the idea of entering your space. it's where you lay your head, your every earthly possession stored in places easily accessible. so much trust given to the leeches, of all people. jade could swoon.
jade isn't usually so restless. it's almost as unnatural as the concept of him even being in here. especially because he's in your bathroom. he hadn't meant to, but he felt the magnet that lies behind his ribcage was pulled to the door, and he just had to open it. and go inside.
walking through your bedroom was surreal, like he finally had the opportunity to crack your skull open like an egg and grab handfuls of your brain to eat—to see, moreso.
it smells just like you.
he took note of your soaps, your body wash and shampoo, and he glanced at your conditioner and lotions, for the scents you prefer. it wasn't as if he didn't already know, he knows your scent better than anything else, but curiosity kills the cat. and satisfaction sure brought it back.
what he lingered on, however, was your countertop. just under the mirror, in a simple holder, is your toothbrush. would you get angry at him if he gave it a nice lick? jade isn't sure what to do.
he's often seen as the levelheaded leech twin, lacking the strong mood-swings and eerily joyful disposition, but he's just as impulsive. jade, the poor man, is unlucky enough to have a better sense of taste than anything.
surely you'd understand.
…rationality soon takes over. he settles for returning it to its holder and gnawing on the thumb that'd almost touched the bristles.
the very thought disgusts him; it's naught but a simple cleaning tool that's likely riddled with enough of your bacteria to drive him to the doorstep of illness. he couldn't possibly follow through… yet his hand, with a mind of its own, slowly closes around the handle with such hesitance it was as if you were to burst through the door any second. even though he knows you're far, far away.
paranoia creeps in.
is this what it is like to yearn? to want so deeply for your touch, the texture of your skin on his, to kiss your lips all but once. he wishes to understand you. if you'd allow him his wish to kiss you just one singular time, he'd stretch that time so long he'd have every millimeter of your mouth memorized. he'd know every one of your teeth, how they feel front and back and the divots of the bottoms. he'd mentally compare the difference from yours to his, the length and the width, the sharpness. (jade has yet to ask, but he wants to know if you like how sharp his teeth are. is it off-putting to you? you've never expressed an opinion either way, but he can't help but doubt himself.)
if he were graced with your lips, would you be hesitant, or far too eager? he knows he will be shaking with nerves—(or maybe with stark excitement after waiting, anticipating, and daydreaming)—his trembling fingers would slide over your arms above your long sleeves as if it'd be able to substitute for your bare flesh.
if he could, he would rebuke the blowing wind, the clouds for the imminent threat of snowfall, and the sky itself for the damning drop in temperature that robbed him of more of you. would it be unbecoming to scoot his hands up your sleeves? jade thinks so. it'd reek of desperation, but, he is desperate, horribly so. day by day, he wants you and he needs you more yet more. maybe he can urge you to take your jacket off; you'd surely agree if he'd gotten that far.
the thought brings him pause.
would he ever get that far? how long would it take? he isn't sure he could wait much longer, let alone an indefinite amount of time. a shuddering sigh shakes his frame.
your sink is cold underneath his free hand.
he holds the porcelain tight to keep himself upright under the weight of his quisling brain. he imagines if he hadn't his gloves on, it would be fairly pleasant under his usually chilling touch, because he has grown red hot at the thought of you. he burns, warming higher and hotter until he worries he could combust into flames.
jade risks another glance. it's midday, so the bristles are visibly dry after long hours of sitting alone. how… lonely.
your toothbrush would look much better next to his.
jade is greedy.
he needs you.
he needs you in every way. he would like to study you, lovingly; he wants to observe and commit to memory every single thing about you. how wide would your smile be when you awake to see him already gazing at you?—would it match his? would you know that it's because you're all he wants to see? not the sunrise, not dusk, but you. you're a better sight than the melting colors during dawn in the sky as the sun brightens it, greater than the twinkle of the stars deep into the night.
jade looks away.
he couldn't possibly disrespect you so. no matter how badly he wants to reach a higher level of intimacy with you, the idea of being faced with your nose turned up with distaste... his traitorous pulse skips. be still his beating heart. you would never trust him again.
you chose him specifically, out of anybody else on the planet, and rather than take his duty with the importance it deserves, he's wanting for you. goodness be, he would never be reinvited into your home. (you would have to choose somebody else for the task if he were banned from your house. the jealousy at the idea is enough to wipe the dreamy smile from his face.) he sighs to himself, turning to the doorway.
if you were to walk in, would you be angry that he'd even thought of desecrating your toothbrush? he'd just wanted to gauge the taste of your tongue, even just an afterthought.
it's torture. you're tortuous.
do you think about him the same way?
jade sighs, long and heavy as he drags his hands down his face. what is adoration but dropping coins into a well wishing for its return?
and, now of all times, he hears footsteps coming down the hall. floyd must be coming to snoop in your bedroom, just as he. while he loves his dear brother, he hates it when they have the same exact idea and it conflicts with his own plans. jade would rather die than deal with the teasing that'd follow being caught in here by him. he clasps his hands behind his back, and takes a single step forward.
he walks slightly faster than usual, making sure to shut your bathroom door so as not to incriminate himself, hightailing it out of your bedroom. just as he exits your room, he peers down the hall before advancing. how embarrassing it would be if you had snuck up on him.
then, he's careening to the floor.
you.
he'd know what you smelled like, even if he'd been trapped in an empty void for a century, he'd forget all; his face, maybe even his own name, but not yours. not you. (jade occasionally has the thought that his poor eyesight is naught but a hindrance. will he one day in the near or distant future forget you face? he curses his future self for the possibility.)
he manages to catch both himself and you before you fall with him into a heap of meat on the ground. (would it be so bad if that'd happened? to be one with you, not a thing longer known but the other and the floor. he may get jealous of the hardwood if it got to spend eternity with you, too.)
jade wishes he paid more attention to what you told him before you left, he thought you would be gone into the night, but he despises hearing what you're doing with other people. especially as he knows that you've yet to be his. he can't handle all the jealousy.
when you're righted on your feet, you call his name, jovially, hugging him tight. your arm squeezes around his waist familiarly, and he can't manage to suppress his pleased shudder. imagining the feeling of you can never compare to you in the flesh. has the intimacy he hungers for always been right here? jade could've been so used to it, to you, that it became normal. ah, he feels himself flush, you're so exciting.
more.
he craves more and more, constantly upping the ante until he's consumed by you—until he has consumed you.
you wouldn't mind if he took a bite.
you're talking, prattling on and on with a cadence he will forever commit to memory. he is oh, so close to you, no more than a foot away. he could just open his mouth and—
he snaps his jaw together, smiling far too wide when you suddenly turn and make a gesture that likely related to the story you were recounting. he schools his stance, standing straight as he always does, as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
jade doesn't even know what you're talking about.
he has the general idea. it's the same reason you chose him and floyd of all people to be housesitters—along with babysitters for the little sea lion, which is strange as the cat isn't even yours—instead of literally anybody else. so many people are so insistent at being by your side during your every waking moment.
if you weren't so emotionally involved he'd take them by the neck and squeeze tight until their heads popped like balloons.
rather than seriously consider murder in an envious fit, jade relaxes his smile, as if the curve of his lips could convey the longing that lives in every atom of his body.
he doesn't want to be replaced by any of those pond smelts. he worries that he may be too much.
you're just out of reach.
jade catches your hand in his with grace, just before it returns to your side, and he imagines it would be hot against his skin. his gloves are a part of his uniform that he wears like the rest, but right now they feel like they're filled with fire ants. they're in the way.
he places his face into your palm, shutting his eyes for but a moment before opening them with his lids low. land dwellers are so warm.
jade has not a clue what he looks like now, only the hope that his composed, almost professional demeanor is what you see rather than how feverish he truly feels. he feels wild, like an electric shock is underneath his skin trying to escape.
“i miss you.” he murmurs into your pulse, showing his sharp, pointed teeth more than he meant to. miss, rather than missed. he'll never stop wanting you close, needing you near. you look best when you're next to him, after all.
oh, how nice it would be to live together. waking up to the sight of you everyday would be brightening. if jade could turn over just as he opens his eyes and see your drowsy expression, a smile—he manages not to shiver, yet he's unable to stop the flush on his cheeks from deepening. he can imagine the heart-stopping-feeling that would overtake him, pausing his blood flow for a moment that would threaten to end his day before it began. or maybe he could wake up before you do and gaze upon the beauty next to him in your moment of peace, taking in your vulnerability that's for him and only him.
his every waking moment is just as when he was in the sea, looking upon land that was just at his fingertips yet he could never traverse. the moon, high in the sky, he sees every night appeared so close, but would never be touched by him in this lifetime.
he feels as if he's said too much, but not enough at the same time.
jade could faint. rather than scream and run away—it wouldn't deter him much, as he'd follow you to the ends of the earth even if it meant he’d only be to watch you from a distance—you take half a step closer. strangely enough, you make a sound in the same tone you use with the sea lion and cup his cheeks in your palms. (jade doesn't know what that noise could mean for him, but he hopes you're not put off by him.)
he's allowing you to hold his very life in your hands. trust is as precious a commodity as information, yet he gives it to you with an abundance like he had enough to go around. he doesn't even trust himself, he still can't shake the instinct he has to devour you.
is it as romantic to you as he, the thought of being one? the sink of his teeth into your awaiting flesh, and the stretch until the muscle tears wouldn't hurt as much as he does whenever you're not with him. you would look so beautiful egging him on as he consumed you.
jade can only wish you'd want the same for him. he'd cut slivers from himself if you'd asked. people say romance is dead, as he thought for a long while, but you've broadened his horizons. you told him idyllic romance can be revived, and he has come to believe you.
jade wants to keep you. he wants to keep you happy, keep you to himself, keep you by his side. everything he has, but nothing is enough. he is dissatisfied but on cloud nine.
“i miss you, too.” you parrot his words back, and if he isn't mistaken, he sees the same intensity between the syllables. you cooed at him, squishing his cheeks like he were something to be treated with affection. do you find him as cute as he thinks you are in this moment?
rather than ask, he turns his head just enough to nip your thumb. greedily, he wishes he lacked the self control to take a bite of your arm.
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