A/N: Flash-fic I mostly wrote on my phone on the way home from work. NOT fluff!

Jessica doesn’t open the hallway light when she comes home, even though it’s so late that the apartment is pitch black and she can barely take off her heels and change into slippers without tripping over something.

It’s a familiar routine for her now, to come home in the dead of the night, when her home has fallen asleep while the city has just come alive. She tiptoes into the bathroom and finds the switch expertly in the dark, turning on the first light that night.

The mirror shows a pale face radiating exhaustion that even her makeup can’t hide. Her mascara has smeared heavily and left her with raccoon eyes for no reason she can think of. It looks like she’s been crying.

Mechanically, she takes a makeup wipe from the almost empty bag and starts to clean her face. If only everything came off as easily as makeup. After she washes her face, she looks into the mirror again. She can’t decide if her reflection looks more familiar or foreign.

She’s careful to walk very quietly and slip into bed, but she still wakes its occupant up.

“Jessi?” Tiffany’s voice is even huskier than usual, sleep clinging to the edges of it.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Jessica whispers, even though it couldn’t be anyone else. Unlike Jessica, Tiffany only ever lets one other person into her bed. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“It’s okay.” Tiffany smiles and somehow Jessica makes it out as clear as day even in the darkness. Or maybe it’s just that she knows this smile all too well, has traced every contour of it with both mouth and memory. “I’m glad you did. I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Sorry,” Jessica says again, apologizing for more than Tiffany knows.

“It’s okay,” Tiffany says again. It’s always okay with her. “You’ve been really busy lately, huh?”

Jessica tenses briefly. There’s nothing suggestive about Tiffany’s voice, nothing accusing, but Jessica is already preparing her defences.

“I’m happy for you.” Tiffany yawns. “Being busy is good for a business. Blanc is really taking off, isn’t it?”

Jessica doesn’t answer. is tight and she can’t speak, like saying a word would be like sticking a finger down .

“Are you okay though?” Tiffany sounds concerned. “I know how much you love your sleep. You probably miss your bed.”

She’s been spending a lot of time in beds, different beds with different people. But not the bed in her own home, not the bed where her lover sleeps alone, always lying towards the edge, always leaving half for her.

Jessica finds her voice. “Our bed,” she says, finding Tiffany’s hand under the covers.

“Our bed,” Tiffany echoes, and Jessica sees her smile again even though she’s rolled onto her side. The expression feels like a stab to the chest and a blow to the stomach simultaneously.

Tiffany yawns again and the sound tapers off into something like a sigh. She never complains to Jessica. She just smiles at her and asks her about her day and reminds her to take care of herself and.

Jessica fights the urge to clench her hands into fists. She’s still holding Tiffany’s hand, she would hurt her, and that’s not what she wants. Instead, she grabs a handful of the blankets with her free hand, like she’s drifting off at sea and trying to anchor herself.

“G’night, Jessi,” Tiffany says, sounding mostly asleep already. Of course she would be. Jessica had woken her up. She does that almost every night. No matter how quiet she tries to be, she usually wakes Tiffany up. Tiffany never complains about it though. It’s okay with her, she says, if she gets to see Jessica before the sun comes up and steals her away again. It’s always okay with her.

Jessica closes her eyes, suddenly exhausted all the way to her bones. “Night, Tiff.”

Tiffany doesn’t let go of Jessica’s hand even in sleep, and Jessica doesn’t fight her grip. She sleeps fitfully and dreams of released balloons and kite strings, and in the morning she wakes up with Tiffany’s hand still clutched tightly in her own.

A/N: I don't really know how to feel about this fic. I started it on a whim on my phone when I was on the subway, and to be honest, I didn't expect it to really go somewhere but I guess it did?? This fic doesn't really feel like it has a direction; it was very spur of the moment and just something I wanted to get out I suppose. It's about time I wrote some angst about JeTi tbh.