I woke up with a start. Only to fall down from the couch.

"Ungh." I groaned into the duvet that was so messily tangled around my torso and my legs. It took me a while to wriggle out of it and as everything from yesterday came back to me, I found myself inhaling sharply.

The time. I looked up at the clock, blinked and blinked and only about managed to see the clock ticking way past noon. The weekend, I groggily remembered, so I thankfully wasn't missing any more classes. But Jon.

I got up, tripped on my shoes that I hadn't noticed at the foot of the couch, and dashed inside my bedroom. The next few minutes flew by as I took a scalding hot shower, brushed my teeth and washed my face, and changed into a pair of soft jeans and a large green hoodie. Then I was out in the kitchen, bustling around and walking from one counter to another, opening and closing the cabinets, making eggs and pancakes and coffee and everything I could've thought of at that moment.

Jon's injured. The glass vial. The Agency's database. Ice Phantom in my apartment. Might've kissed me last night. I got kicked out.

I was practically bristling with anticipation.

By the time I had inhaled some coffee, wiped my hands on my jeans, gnawed on my lower lip until it was almost bleeding, I found myself walking towards Jamie's closed bedroom door.

He wasn't out yet. Why wasn't he out yet? Linda, I thought. She might've called. What if Jamie had been fast asleep and missed the sound of his phone ringing?

Bouncing a little on my heels, I contemplated (for a second approximately) before knocking on his door. When no reply came, I quietly bustled inside and padded across his bedroom--which I hadn't ever noticed was exactly like mine, except for the lack of furniture and colours--and stopped momentarily when I made out the outline of him on his bed, mostly under the covers, and still peacefully asleep.

I looked over at the nightstand for his phone, but it was nowhere in sight. Frustrated and (like Jamie had stated last night) a bit antsy, I went over to his side and shook him slowly.

"Jamie!" I hissed.

No response.

Bloody hell, I thought. I knew no one appreciated my lack of patience sometimes, but the need to do something was growing and growing inside of me and I needed to smack my head against a wall or maybe even punch it. Or maybe a run. That usually calmed me down.

But what about Jon?

So I leaned over Jamie this time and shook him by both of his shoulders.

"Jamie," I said, then shook him again. "Jamie, wake up."

Two things happened quite simultaneously right then. His eyes shot open, alarmed and confused, and a searing, almost burning hiss shot down my palm where I'd touched his shoulder.

I yelped, pulling away hastily and fell back on the floor with a tight grimace. "Fuck, Jamie, what was that for?"

He blinked groggily, sat up and his hair was a mess. "Jesus Christ." He groaned, ran his hands through his hair and his wide eyes flickered from me to my hand.

"Ow," I whispered and cradled my palm to my chest, still kneeling on the floor. It felt like I'd just touched a burning kettle. The old ones Dolores--the next-door neighbour--loved pouring her tea from.

Jamie grimaced, turned towards me and held out his hand. "Show me." Then blurted out the very next second, "What the hell were you thinking?"

I frowned. "I'm fine."

He did that thing again--looking between my face and my hand, brows furrowed in concern and guilt. "You can't blame me when you were the one who ambushed me!"

"I didn't--what?"

"In my sleep." He added, frown deepening as he waved his outstretched hand towards me. "Give me your hand."

I gave him my hand, a little dazed. His words were confusing me. "I didn't ambush you." And I hadn't. I'd just shaken him a little. Could've shouted his name, but I hadn't even done that. "I was just trying to wake you up."

He held my hand with both of his, his grip gentle and cautious as if scared that he might hurt me some more.

"Yes, that is called an ambush."

"Well, how was I supposed to know you're so jumpy in your sleep?"

Jamie kept on frowning, pressed his thumb at the centre of my palm and I flinched. His blue gaze shot up to mine.

"Just don't do it again." He didn't sound threatening, just wary. Like it was his hand that had gotten shocked to the core. "What were you waking me up for anyway?"

I found myself looking around his room, at the small bits of light peeking through the translucent curtains. "I couldn't find your phone."

He raised his brows. "Why were you looking for my phone?"

"Linda," I said, and had to bite another flinch when a cool pricking sensation trailed up my hand and my spine. "She hasn't called yet?"

He blinked and let go of my hand. I pulled it back a little disappointedly, even though I was glad of the warmth around me.

"No." He frowned again. "I said I'd let you know when that happens, didn't I?"

"Well, I thought you must be asleep and you must've missed it and I clearly can't see your phone near you anyway." I stood up when he got out of bed, dragging another hand through his hair before pulling off his t-shirt in one go. My eyes widened just a bit. "And...if...you don't have it near you, you can't possibly know if she called. It's way past noon right now. It's been more than just a few hours. Jon must be awake."

"Dahlia." Jamie's voice was laced with sleep and frustration and it made me break away from shamelessly ogling him out. Heat involuntarily crawled up my neck and my cheeks.

"Do you think she didn't call you on purpose?"

"Dahlia." He repeated. "Get. Out."

I blinked once. Then twice. Then frowned. "Oh."

"I'm not kicking you out." He spoke through gritted teeth, grabbing my elbow and steering me towards the door. "You're way too wired at such an ungodly hour of the morning and I need a shower. And coffee. Do you hear me?"

"I've made coffee," I murmured, staring up at him.

He sighed, nodded, and his grip tightened just a fraction on my elbow, almost as if he didn't want me to go. "Give me a moment." Then he shut the door on my face.

I walked into the kitchen and sat down on one of the stools lining the counter. I took a sip of the coffee from my mug and my stomach churned. By the time Jamie came out, wearing jeans and another one of his incredibly soft-looking sweaters, my mug of coffee was empty. I stood up and made a move to fill it back.

I heard him softly cursing behind me. "Don't." He grabbed the kettle from me and my mug too. "No fucking way are you drinking any more of this."

I frowned. "What? Why not? I can handle some coffee."

"No, you can't." He held me back and carefully put both of those things away. "You're one of those adrenaline junkies no one wants to be around. Especially in the mornings."

"Hey!" I said, taking full offence. Not that I think he cared.

"How long have you been up for?" He sat down on the stool across from where I had been sitting and wrapped his hands around his own mug of coffee. "It isn't a fucking crime to sleep for more than a few hours, you know."

"I did sleep for more than a few hours." I gripped the counter when the need to fidget increased inside me. Maybe I should clean. Clean what? "I'm just anxious."

"You don't say."

"Why hasn't Linda called yet?" I asked him. "Do you think something went wrong? Do you think he died?"

Jamie grimaced and looked up at me. His eyes held faint, tired shadows underneath them. I felt a little guilty for waking him up. "How do you handle this?"

"Handle what?" I ran a hand through my ponytail and went towards the couch, picking up my thrown duvet and trying to fold it neatly.

"Your antsiness." I heard him.

"I don't think that's the right word."

"It bloody well should be." He scoffed. "Whose fucking idea was it even to give you coffee on top of all that?"

"My own," I said, picking up one of the cushions before placing it back.

I heard him blowing out a heavy sigh before he walked towards me with his coffee. "Sit." He nudged his head towards the couch.

"I'd like to not sit right now," I mumbled self consciously.

He muttered something incoherent under his breath before grabbing my arm and literally pushing me down on the couch. Then he sat down beside me and still didn't let go. I made a move to pull away but his glare held me still effectively. "If you get up, I swear to God, I'll burn this whole place down." He threatened.

I crossed my legs and faced him. "You can't burn anything, Jamie."

"I bloody well did burn your hand back there."

He had. I perked up at that. "Yes. How did you do that?"

He scoffed, sipped his coffee, and ignored me.

My shoulders slumped once again. "Fine. I'm sorry for barging inside your room and waking you up like that. Is that better or are you gonna stay grumpy?"

"Don't." His eyes found mine over the rim of his mug. They were a mix of dark blues and greys. "Just don't do it again."

"Fine," I repeated, slumped back onto the couch arm before straightening up again. Jamie tsked. "What is it? Are you like one of those people who hates everyone and anyone that barges in without permission?"

He pretended I hadn't said anything. Again.

"Is it like a property thing? A privacy thing? Maybe you should lock your door then." I think I waggled my brows since he grimaced. "Or are you afraid someone's gonna barge in and kidnap you?"

He glared at me. "I don't bloody care if anyone comes inside my room. It's just you. I don't want you coming into my room."

"Okay." I blinked. "Ouch."

Perhaps it was a nemesis thing.

"I thought we were somehow kinda past the whole nemesis thing?" I questioned, giving him a weird look. After last night at the bookshop, I pretty much believed in that. "Do you think I'd kill you in your sleep?"

"I am done talking about this."

"Done? You weren't even starting..." I pleaded with wide eyes. "You've got me all curious now. I don't like suspense."

"You know what I don't like?" He asked me, getting up and walking towards the sink. "When you try prying into my business."

I got up too, even though he'd threatened me not to, and followed him into the kitchen. "But I've never threatened to kill you." I pointed out.

He swore under his breath.

"Do you feel threatened by me?" And then something heavy sunk into the pit of my stomach. "I mean, I guess, people do fear me sometimes. Even though I don't...I haven't ever done anything to..." Then I sighed. "Okay, maybe I do seem scary sometimes. But I help people, yes? I won't ever kill you in your sleep."

Jamie had his back towards me and didn't say anything. And I really couldn't shut up. This, this rambling thing I had going on was getting worse day by day. Especially near Jamie. I didn't know how else to let the anxiousness within me cool off.

"I mean, I won't kill you at all," I continued. "I don't...I can't say I don't kill people, because, you know...but I won't ever--"

"Jesus Christ, can't you just shut up?" He snapped, and something happened.

Not to me, thankfully. But to the dishwasher, I mean. It made a loud gurgling sound, a rather scary one, as the door fell open by itself, and there were these small sharp icicle-like pieces of broken glass which I am sure I had never seen inside a dishwasher before.

Jamie swore again, shut it back with a lot more force than necessary, threw his empty coffee mug in the sink and turned around, raking his hands frustratedly through his hair. "Fuck."

I was very well frozen in my spot, my gaze switching from the closed dishwasher to him.

"Are you...all right?" I whispered warily.

He looked miserable. "You need to know when to stop, Dahlia."

My heart skipped a tiny beat and I felt my neck heating up. "I...I'm sorry?" I looked back at the dishwasher again, wondering if it was broken. "I can give you space."

"Don't." He gritted out the word, clenching his jaw. I froze again. Was this where Ice Phantom made an appearance? Ice-punch me and knock me out?

"Or not." I breathed out.

He let out a tiny frustrated noise that sounded more like a growl before running his hands up and down his face. I had a feeling he was very close to punching something. Or someone. Or just me. "I'll come clean with you, okay?"

I didn't understand what he was talking about but I nodded anyway.

"I don't usually get out of control like...like this." He gestured towards the dishwasher, frowning a bit. "Or...what happened when you came in to wake me up."

I nodded slowly, carefully, not saying anything. It took a lot of effort and I was almost proud of myself.

"It's just you." He sounded miserable again and I tried not to scrunch my nose at him. I realized that I disliked when he sounded like that. Anything but that. "I'm in control around everyone else. But then it's you and you...you've been making it a lot fucking harder for me, Dahlia."

I swayed a little and leaned against the counter behind me.

"Ever since you kissed me--"

"You kissed me again last night." I cut him off and grimaced. "Sorry. No interrupting."

He didn't seem angry, but his voice still carried a tiny lilt of frustration. "I'm not apologising for that."

"Huh?"

"When I'm near you, Dahlia," he said, "everything inside me wants to rip out of me and feel you."

My eyes widened at the sudden directness of his words. And I wanted to laugh, because he was shitting with me, wasn't he? But all that happened was my heart and it started beating really really fast.

"You don't..." He trailed off and I saw the way he was gripping the counter on either side of him, his knuckles going white. "You don't know how long it took me to get this under control. I couldn't step out of my house because I feared I'd ruin everything around me. I despise even thinking about those days when I barely had any control over my own fucking body."

The air felt cold. The clock ticked by.

"I don't...I'm not that anymore. Or I thought I wasn't until you kissed me and it all just...blew away."

Last night, I thought, at Jon's bookshop. Was this what he had been trying to tell me?

"You're serious." I managed it out despite the way my throat tried to seize.

He looked away, clenched his jaw, but didn't say anything more to me. I could've practically seen him wishing to erase the past few seconds. With a shudder running through me, I pushed myself away from the counter and stepped towards him. 

"How do I...Maybe it's just a natural fight or flight response." I kept my tone light, even though my mind was screaming at me to run away. He'd clearly just confessed to me about being a big ball of volatile tension, clearly stated that I was the big reason for it. I probably should've run away. "You know, I think you've always been pretty explosive anyway. It's not something...new?"

Jamie finally looked up at me and what felt like an invisible punch to the gut was the defeated gleam in his eyes. "I thought I stopped destroying people's dishwashers."

"You've..." This isn't funny, Dahlia, I told myself. Don't laugh. "...done this before?"

He sighed and leaned a little towards me. I didn't think he meant to. I don't think he noticed doing it either. "Once at my parents' house. The second time at my aunt's."

"Oh." I glanced down at our dishwasher. "So like...this is bad."

"My mother kicked me out of her house, in the middle of the night, just because she thought I'd been born straight out of devil's hell. Just because I can do things no one else can. I wasn't even a teenager back then." He stated a little slowly. "Doesn't that say how bad it really was?"

I frowned. I didn't want to imagine a barely-teenage Jamie getting abandoned by the two people who should've always loved him. Parents were supposed to love you, even I knew that.

"Your aunt loved you." I offered.

"But she died." His grip went slack on the counter, his eyes slowly roaming across my face. "Come here."

"She didn't die because of you, Jamie."

"I can't do this." He reached out and curled two fingers in my hoodie pocket, pulling me close. "Come here."

I stumbled forward and my hands found his shoulders. I could've felt him getting tense before relaxing almost immediately. It was truly absurd that I did too. Not so antsy, but relaxed.

The Agency and Orias and the punch to River's face and Jade's disappointed look and the thought of Jon being injured, all of that was still there at the very back of my head. But it wasn't there at the same time.

Jamie was Ice Phantom and magic. And it was unfair. All of it. Everything.

"You've been driving me insane." His hand trailed up and rested on the small of my back. "For three whole years, Dahlia."

A shudder left me when he leaned closer and pulled me closer at the same time, his touch desperate and my lips a little clumsy as we kissed. And I got it, I understood what he'd meant. Because as he pressed closer and devoured me with that single kiss, it drove me a little insane too.

Three whole years. Three whole years I'd hated him and despised him. Three whole years he'd driven me insane.

Coffee and mint and the taste of him, a desperate sound crawled out of my throat as I curled my fingers into the softness of his hair, pulling him close just to feel every firm ridge of him, every part of him, press against my own.

I understood what he had been trying to tell me because I couldn't. I couldn't pull away. I couldn't even think of pulling away.

Jamie pulled away an inch, both of us breathing heavily, before dipping his head low to kiss my throat, hot desperate kisses, biting and sucking until I had to pull him back, my hands shaking and clumsy, my lips finding his again.

"More." I managed to breathe out before he flipped us over so that I was the one with my back against the counter this time, his fingers digging into my waist, just above my hips, before lifting me up and on the counter and stepping in between my legs. All the while I had my hands in his hair and around his neck, greedily wanting so much more. I didn't even think I wanted to stop.

Not until I had to really breathe and Jamie pressed his forehead into the crook of my neck, cool to the touch. And it took me a while to get out of my dazed state, but I realised he wasn't touching me. I could feel him, but his hands weren't on me. I could feel him leaning on me, but he was shaking.

Blinking and feeling my heart crawling up my throat, I slowly uncurled my hand from around his sweater, brushing my fingers against the side of his face and into his hair. I didn't push him away. I held onto him instead.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he relaxed. Stopped trembling. Stopped holding himself so stiff.

"I'll ruin everything." He whispered after a while.

A part of me thought the same. But maybe he wouldn't. Maybe I would be the one who'd ruin everything. I breathed out shakily.

"I don't..." My voice came out strained. "I don't want to fight, Jamie."

He was silent but then he pulled away, enough so that I could see his face and his eyes on me.

"I'll hurt you." He said it like he knew. Like he was so sure.

"Okay." I swallowed, and I don't know why there was this lump in my throat. Like I was going to cry. I wasn't. I didn't. There was nothing to cry for. "But maybe you won't."

He blinked at me, his eyes softening so beautifully. "Maybe I won't." He repeated slowly.

He lifted his hands and uncurled them from the tight fists, pulling me closer and not afraid to touch me anymore. He wasn't trembling either.

"But if I do," he whispered and pressed his forehead against my own, his breath cold against my lips. "Just know that I..."

He trailed off and left it at that. Nothing more. He was cold yet I still felt so warm. The warmest in a while. And it was this aching deep in my chest, in my heart, telling me that I wanted this. It felt like home.

But there was no home. Didn't I already knew that there was no such thing as a permanent home? Didn't it always go away?

I refused to ponder over it right then. I could have this for now, I thought. I closed my eyes and leaned against him. I can have this.

The moment broke, however, when a phone rang in the silence. Jamie's phone, I realised, as he pulled away a little and slid it out of his back pocket.

We both saw the name on the screen at the same time.

Linda.