A/N: This is a sequel to Take It to Heart in the previous chapter, so make sure you read that first. I actually started writing this ages ago and then I've just been editing it for literally weeks. I'm still not completely happy with it, but then again if I only posted things I was completely happy with I wouldn't post anything.

“Thanks for letting me stay with you tonight,” Tiffany says, sitting on Jessica’s couch with her back ramrod straight and her hands in her lap.

“It’s nothing,” Jessica replies automatically. She takes a seat on the couch herself, leaving a good few feet of space between them. There’s something about Tiffany right now, like there’s a barrier around her that warns do not approach.

“It’s not nothing to me,” Tiffany says, pinning Jessica with a look that makes her feel like the distance between them dissolves in one fell swoop.

Jessica swallows. “Shouldn’t you… Won’t the girls worry about you?”

Tiffany closes her eyes. “They have enough to worry about.”

Oh, Tiffany. She’s always worried over everyone else while refusing to let them worry about her. Jessica wonders what those hateful people would think if they knew how many tears were hidden behind Tiffany’s smiles over the years.

“You don’t think I have enough to worry about?” Jessica jokes.

Tiffany’s eyes fly open and train on her. “I’m sorry,” she blurts out immediately. “I can leave—”

“I don’t want you to,” Jessica cuts in, “and I didn’t mean it like that.”

Tiffany isn’t looking at her anymore. “I know you have a lot on your plate.”

“I wouldn’t mind having you on my plate.” Jessica gives a small smile. “I bet you’d be tasty.”

She watches a flush crawl across Tiffany’s cheeks and wonders if she had gone too far. Sure she had kissed Tiffany not long ago, had held her like she had to keep Tiffany together with the glue of her lips, the bandages of her embrace, but now that they’re in Jessica’s apartment, it’s like something has left them while something else has come between them.

Tiffany clears . “Really, though. I know how busy you are, so. Thank you.”

She sounds like she’s thanking her doctor for squeezing out an appointment for her, and something twists in Jessica’s chest.

“After all these years, you still think you need to thank me?”

“What am I supposed to say then?”

“You don’t need to say anything.”

Tiffany’s face gains a little colour, her eyes a little light. “Jessi,” she says softly, and that one word says what thousand couldn’t.

“You don’t need to say anything,” Jessica repeats, reaching out her hand across the barrier, and Tiffany takes it. Jessica’s skin tingles; maybe it’s static electricity or maybe it’s just Tiffany. “There’s no need to say.”

“Do you want anything to eat?” Jessica asks, opening a cupboard and then straining to reach the one above it. Tiffany does it for her without a word. They’re the same height (okay, maybe Tiffany is a tiny bit taller), but Tiffany has longer arms so she’s still able to reach things Jessica can’t. Tiffany hasn’t grabbed anything for her in a long time.

“You have, like, ten different kinds of ramyun.”

Jessica shrugs. “I like ramyun. Plus, it’s easy to make.”

Tiffany gives her an amused look. “You should have just said the second part.”

“Hey, I bet I can cook better than you,” Jessica says, although she doesn’t know, can’t know. They haven’t cooked anything with or for each other in a long time.

Tiffany smiles a little. “Remember that time we tried to make spaghetti bolognese and set off the fire alarm?”

“Wasn’t it spaghetti carbonara?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Tiffany gives her a weighted look. “Spaghetti carbonara. My memory is failing me.”

“Don’t make yourself sound like an old woman.”

Tiffany gives a dry laugh. “Sometimes I feel like one.”

“If you’re old, what does that make me? A grandma?” Jessica frowns. “I’m too young to be a grandma.”

Tiffany’s laugh isn’t dry this time. “Jessi, we’re the same age.”

“I’m four months older than you.”

“Three and a half.”

“That basically makes me your unnie, so you have to listen to me. It’s Korean custom and all.”

“Guess I’m a failure of a Korean,” Tiffany says, twisting, and Jessica wants to bite her tongue off. Tiffany’s eyes sweep past her and land with apparent interest on something in the cupboard. “Is that instant carbonara sauce?”

“Tiff—”

“I’ve seen them use that on TV but I’ve never actually bought any myself.”

“Fany—”

“Is it good? Have you cooked with it before?”

“Stephanie.”

That finally gets Tiffany’s attention. “What is it, unnie?”

“Don’t do this,” Jessica says, her voice coming out very soft.

“Do what?” Tiffany’s eyes widen. “Talk about pasta sauce?”

“Don’t hide behind Tiffany.”

Her expression doesn’t falter. “I am Tiffany.”

“Steph,” Jessica says. “Don’t do this.”

Tiffany’s face crumples. “What am I supposed to do?” Her voice cracks, becomes hoarse like it’s been worn down by a decade’s worth of tears. “I have to be Tiffany. I have to be strong – or I at least have to try. I know I’m not doing very well, but I at least have to try.”

She’s not crying, exactly, but tears are trickling down her cheeks and Jessica reaches forward instinctively to wipe them off, but she has nothing, not even sleeves given her elbow-length shirt, so she does it with her bare hand.

“You’re the strongest person I know,” Jessica says honestly, “but you don’t have to be strong all the time, okay?”

You don’t have to be strong when you’re with me. I’ll protect you.

It’s the same thought she had all those years ago, crystallized during that exhausting and exhaustive talk they had about home. Korea had never felt as much like home to Jessica as in that moment, when they were surrounded by crumpled tissues and Tiffany’s teary but bright smile.

And look what that ‘home’ has done to her now.

“Do you still miss home?” Jessica finds herself asking.

Tiffany lowers her eyes, lashes dark and damp. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t know where that is anymore.”

And Jessica says what she wanted to all those years ago.

“I’ll be your home.”

They end up ordering pizza and fried chicken. Jessica asks for extra cheese on the pizza; if you’re going to break the rules, why not do it all the way?

When she turns back to Tiffany after she finishes ordering, she finds that Tiffany’s fallen asleep, her head slumped at a weird angle against the armrest. Jessica wants to move her to a more comfortable position, but she’s afraid she’ll wake Tiffany. Who knows when was the last time Tiffany actually slept?

Jessica drapes a blanket over her, trying to cover her securely without jarring her, and moves into her bedroom to ask the pizza place to call her instead of ringing the doorbell. By the time that she returns to the living room, Tiffany is awake and staring at a point in the distance with an unreadable expression.

“You’re up,” Jessica says in surprise. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” Tiffany replies. “I just…had a nightmare.”

Jessica frowns. “Have you been having them a lot lately?”

“It’s okay, they’re not so bad.” Tiffany gives a wan smile. “Waking up isn’t that different anyway.”

“Steph…”

“Actually, I take that back. Waking up to you is very different.”

Jessica tries to smile. “Is waking up to me better than a dream?”

Tiffany nods. “Definitely,” she says, not a teasing reply at all but earnest, sincere, Tiffany.

Jessica just looks at her, feeling like she’s trying to drink her in only to be left thirstier.

Tiffany tucks her hair behind her ear, expression self-conscious, almost shy. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Yes,” Jessica says reflexively.

Tiffany brushes at her cheeks, then the corners of . “What?”

“Um. My eyes.”

Tiffany bursts into laughter, so shaken by it that she doubles over clutching her stomach. Her laughter is so infectious that Jessica is pulled into it as well, helpless against resisting. “I almost forgot your—the things you say.”

“My Jessisms?”

“Yes, your Jessisms.”

“Well.” Jessica pauses. “I’m reminding you.”

A moment passes, two, three, time stretching out between them like molasses, with only the skip of Jessica’s heartbeat to indicate it passes at all.

Tiffany clears . “Do you think I have time for another nap before the food gets here?”

It takes Jessica a moment to reply, even though this is her area of expertise. “There’s always time for a nap.”

Tiffany smiles. “I trust your word on sleep.”

“You should trust my word, period.”

“I trust you,” Tiffany says simply.

Jessica joins her on the couch and puts an arm around her, pulling Tiffany down so that her head is cushioned against Jessica’s shoulder.

“Sleep then,” Jessica says softly, “if you trust me.”

“I do,” Tiffany says, with a smile that fades from her lips but stays in her eyes and stays with Jessica even after she closes them.

Jessica hums a slow tune under her breath, and Tiffany’s breathing evens out as sleep claims her. The tension that had been lying in wait under her features doesn’t go away in her sleep but instead rises to the surface, her brow furrowed and twisted, lines of stress, of sorrow marring a face that is meant for smiling. Jessica wants to brush those lines away with her fingers, with her lips, but she dares not touch Tiffany for fear of disturbing her from some much-needed rest. Although she wonders how restful her sleep really is.

Jessica can feel the fingers of sleep pulling at her, trying to tug her into its embrace, but she bats them away even as their nails tear into her. She stares at the opposite wall and wonders what Tiffany was seeing.

The way that Tiffany moans at the first bite of pizza should be illegal. “I haven’t had pizza with extra cheese in, like, ten years.”

“Save some room for chicken,” Jessica says, watching Tiffany eat like it’s the first food she’s had in days.

“Don’t worry,” Tiffany says with full, all idol manners forgotten. “I always have room left for chicken.”

Jessica smiles and takes a small bite of her own pizza slice. Her body is already complaining about the extra time she’ll have to spend at the gym for this, and she cheerfully tells it to shut up. Tiffany polishes off a slice of pizza and a piece of chicken in record time.

“It’s a good thing Yoona isn’t here,” Tiffany says. “She’ll never let this go.”

“If Yoona were here, we wouldn’t have enough food.”

“Also that.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell her you’re eating fast food with me?” Jessica asks lightly. “I bet she’d be very jealous.”

Tiffany gives her a look. “You just want me to report on my whereabouts, don’t you? They know I’m with a friend.”

“Do they?” Jessica’s fingers tighten on her slice of pizza, a piece of crust breaking off. “Do they know which…friend?”

“Do you want them to?” Tiffany asks. “You can tell Yoona yourself that we’re eating pizza and chicken together, you know.”

“Nah,” Jessica says, after a moment. “I wouldn’t want her to find out so she can come here and eat everything herself.”

Tiffany tears apart two pieces of chicken that are stuck together with such force that a piece of breading is sent flying and almost hits Jessica in the face. Jessica flinches, shielding her eyes instinctively.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Tiffany asks worriedly, reaching for her instantly. “I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

Jessica takes her hands away from her face. “Yeah. Don’t worry, I’m not that fragile.”

“No,” Tiffany says. “You’re very strong.”

“You know it,” Jessica says with a smile that isn’t returned.

“You really are. I think you underestimate your own strength.”

Jessica shrugs. “Don’t we all?”

Tiffany doesn’t reply and takes a bite of pizza. Jessica picks up a drumstick, and they spend the next few minutes eating in silence.

Jessica hadn’t even thought about sleeping arrangements until Tiffany clears and says, “I can sleep on the couch.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Jessica says immediately. “I have a queen-sized bed.”

“It’s not about how big the bed is.”

Then what is it about? Jessica thinks but doesn’t ask. She feels like they’ve been walking closer and closer toward each other this whole night, only to turn away from each other at a fork in the road. Or maybe Tiffany is the one taking a turn, while Jessica is rooted to the spot watching her go.

“You’re the guest,” Jessica says, finally. “I won’t have you sleep on the couch. If you don’t want to sleep with me, you can take the bed and I’ll take the couch.”

“It’s not like that! Of course I don’t mind sleeping with you.” Tiffany’s face fills with colour, and Jessica tries desperately not to follow. “I’m—like you said, I’m the guest.”

“I didn’t mean it like—”

“I’m the guest and you’re the host,” Tiffany says decisively. “I can’t steal your bed.”

“You’re not just a guest, you’re—you can come over anytime you want. I’ll give you a spare key.”

“I can’t—”

“You can,” Jessica says firmly. “I want you to.”

“Jessi,” Tiffany whispers, like her vocabulary is reduced to that one word.

“Steph.” Jessica keeps her voice steady. “Come to bed.”

Tiffany hesitates for another moment before nodding and following Jessica to her bedroom. She should really renovate her place to add in another bedroom; she has the space for it. But then again, even if she had a guest room, she wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving Tiffany in it for the night, with only her thoughts for company.

Jessica gets into bed first, settling to one side to leave plenty of space for Tiffany. She looks at Tiffany, dressed in her clothes and lying on her bed, and has to swallow and turn away for a moment.

“Good night,” Tiffany says.

Jessica collects herself. “If you have a nightmare, just wake me up.”

“I’m not sure if anything or anyone can wake you up.”

“I’ll do it for you,” Jessica says, completely serious. “Really, don’t be afraid to wake me up.”

“Okay.” Tiffany smiles, soft but impossible to miss even in the darkness. “I’m not afraid. Not with you here.”

Jessica wants to kiss her, wants to pull Tiffany to her and hold her, wants to fall asleep with Tiffany in her arms. She settles for squeezing Tiffany’s hand, reluctant to let go.

“Good night, Steph.”

“Good night, Jessi.”

Jessica thinks about dreamcatchers and wishes she could weave one strong enough to block out Tiffany’s nightmares, wishes she could be strong enough to protect her.

Jessica has slept through thunderstorms, fire alarms and the combined yelling of eight people with professionally trained voices, but she’s startled awake in the middle of the night. Correction, judging by the sunlight trying to wrestle its way past her blinds, it’s the morning.

“Steph?” she murmurs, reaching beside her for Tiffany, but she finds nothing but the sheets, still warm but empty. “Tiffany?”

She can see the imprint of Tiffany’s body beside her, where her body had dented the sheets, but she’s alone in her bed. Jessica gets up more quickly than she ever had in the morning, almost tripping over her slippers in her haste.

Tiffany isn’t in the hallway. She isn’t in the bathroom. She isn’t in the living room. She isn’t here at all, and aside from the wrinkled sheets on the other side of Jessica’s bed and the pizza box in the recycling bin, there isn’t a single trace of her.

She might as well never have been here.

A/N: I don't know why this ended sadly haha. I never intended this fic to be angsty, but the ending demanded to be written this way. The "I'll be your home" line is taken from speak slow, tell me love by ynk. Her JeTi give me so many feelings. JeTi just give me so many feelings.

Deleted scene:

“Ready for bed?” Jessica asks Tiffany, feeling rather like a kid at a sleepover.

Tiffany tugs on the hem of her shirt. “I don’t have any pyjamas.”

“You can borrow a pair of mine. I don’t think I have any pink ones though.”

“Well then, I don’t want to wear anything.”

“That’s fine with me,” Jessica says, and Tiffany shoves her, half-laughing.