Dank Darkwick - Joling, Joling, Joling, Joling (I'm begging of you, please, just take my hand)

After lingering as long as she could with Seiya and Laurent before the former practically herded her out, Jo made her way out of Frostheim and headed toward the train station. She sent Seiya a couple texts on the way, mind running through a dozen things. Good grief, did she even pack her lipstick or just her lip balm? Was it worth going back for if she couldn't find it in her bag? Shut up, Waker. She was stressing too much about this. Seiya was probably the most responsible person she knew. And Laurent was naive but not totally clueless. The puppy (Rabbit wasn't the worst name, she'll admit, but Jo found herself growing partial to Honey) would nap most of the time and she already set out water and dinner for the little guy. ...if it's not already clear to the reader, Jo's stress is misplaced. She's nervous about the date. This isn't technically her first, because she took Saki out for dinner once before the infamous Ballroom Incident, and there was that semi-study-date with Lily. And she'd gone out for beach days before with Seiya. And Sterling had brought her out to that clearing in the anomalous forest with grape juice and a picnic blanket. It had felt like a date, but he seemed hesitant about it coming off as too much. Jo wished she had told him then that it definitely wasn't too much, that it was beautiful and lovely and something she won't soon forget. But there's more to this one for her. This time, there's been weeks of romantic tension that finally started to bloom a few days ago. And instead of running away like she had with Lily and technically had with Leo too, Jo stayed. And told Sterling she's not arguing if anyone calls her his girl. He said he's not bothered by that. What the hell are they then? Is it too soon? How long did it take Zero and Seiya to say they were boyfriends after going on dates? Jo doesn't know any of this shit. Jo sinks down onto a bench and takes a breath. This was Sterling. Things would work themselves out.

Sterling’s been pacing the platform for the last five minutes. He’s not nervous. That’s ridiculous. He’s fine. Just checking for train delays. For a train that's never delayed. Or scouting for shady figures. Or making sure there’s no—hell, ghost pigeons or zipper crocs or whatever the latest anomaly trend was. Fine. Maybe he’s a little nervous. But it’s not the bad kind. It’s the sort of nervous that sits under your ribs like fizzy soda, the kind that makes you run a hand through your hair too many times and straighten a shirt that’s already fine. He keeps adjusting the worn denim jacket he threw on over his best clean T-shirt (black, a little fitted, because someone once told him he looked good in black—he’s hoping that someone confirms the theory today). He glances down at the small paper bag in his hand. Inside: two of the good melonpan rolls from Sho's truck, and a tiny, hand-carved sea turtle charm he finished late last night. He’d debated giving it to her at all. Maybe it was too much. But then he’d remembered Jo, curled up against him, that rabbit clutched in her palm like it meant something. And, well. He figured he’d take the gamble. His eyes scan the entrance anyway—and then—There she is. Jo. In the soft morning light, hair a little wild, expression pulled tight with that focused look she gets when her thoughts are chewing themselves alive. She’s beautiful. Of course she is. She could show up in combat boots and a hazmat suit and still make his heart do tricks it shouldn’t be able to. She sinks onto the bench like she’s trying to make herself small. Sterling’s smile kicks in, warm and crooked, and the fizz in his chest turns into something steady. He walks over, boots scuffing quietly, and eases down beside her with a familiar lean, shoulder just barely brushing hers.

10:00 AM

“Hey,” he says, voice low but fond. “You look like you just survived a hurricane of existential dread.” He holds up the paper bag as a peace offering. “Bought bribes. Melonpan. One for each of us, and zero percent chance of surprise ghost chili inside.” Then, gentler, he nudges her knee with his. “You okay?”

In all her stress, Jo hadn't even noticed Sterling already on the platform, too focused on getting a moment to sit down and attempt to make the whirlwind in her mind settle down. The collar of her leather racing jacket is undone like usual, but she tugs the zip down a bit as she just breathes and focuses on slowing down. Sterling deserved a more collected, level-headed Jo Waker. In general, she was a lot tamer around him, which scared her a bit. It was strangely difficult to reach many of the extremes she usually did around others when it comes to the cowboy. Even Seiya could have her lash out. She's still not sure what made Sterling different. Maybe she'll figure it out eventually. Distantly, she hears the scuff of his boots before she glances up—and there he is. Sterling. Cute curls, blinding smile, and warm gaze. Already, Jo feels lighter in his presence. His low voice with that Southern cadence she swears she could recognise even in her sleep now does wonders to soothe her nerves for the moment. Jo's grin is as paradoxically sharp and friendly as ever at Sterling's offering. "You don't have to bribe me into a date with you, y'know. I came here very enthusiastically and willingly." She gently takes the paper bag from his hand, fingers brushing, and she does a quick scan of the cowboy's outfit, even leaning back for better perspective. Jo raises an eyebrow and lets out an admiring whistle. ~~Sometimes, she's no better than a man.~~ "Don't you look nice. I wouldn't've picked black but... that looks really good on you." And the way it fit accentuated his very pleasing figure, but Jo's eyes probably say it enough for her. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just had a lot on my mind is... all..."

10:25 AM

Jo had taken a look inside the paper bag when her words trailed off. Her hand dips inside to withdraw the wooden hand-carved sea turtle charm. It was perfect for a necklace. And utterly beautiful. Thoughtful. Sweet. Jo's transfixed by the sight for a long moment before she shifts to look at Sterling beside her, their shoulders brushing. And her knee comes to rest lightly against his too. "This is for me?" she asks, just to be sure.

no it's for the zipper crocs under the bench

Give the girl a break she doesn't receive thoughtful gifts often

He watches her light up like sunrise, just from seeing him, and it hits him harder than he expects. That grin—sharp like a blade but curved with something soft underneath—does something dangerous to his insides. And when she takes the bag, when her fingers brush his, when she leans back to look him over like she’s appraising prize stock at a county fair—Yeah, he might as well just hand her his whole heart right there. Her whistle earns a slow, satisfied grin in return—lopsided, as always, but smug around the edges. “Well, hell,” he drawls, tugging on the hem of his jacket just a little, “If I’d known gettin’ whistled at by Jo Waker was on the table, I’d have worn this shirt a lot sooner.” But the bravado tapers into something quieter as she trails off. He doesn’t press. Just watches her hand reach into the bag, and he already knows which part of the surprise she’s found. Her fingers curl around the sea turtle, and the way she looks at it—Sterling forgets how to breathe for a second. And then she looks at him, soft and wondering and beautiful as the blossoms of early spring, and her knee settles against his. He smiles, slower this time. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “It’s for you.” He lets the words settle before he adds, a little more sheepish: “I know it’s small, but… I was thinkin’ about how you stayed that night. How you held onto that rabbit like it meant somethin’. I wanted to give you a little piece of that feeling back.” He scratches behind his ear with a sheepish shrug. “Figured it suited you. Sea turtle’s got a tough shell, sure, but it’s always goin’ where it needs to—slow, steady, knows how to navigate deep water.” He glances down at her hand holding the charm. “Thought that sounded a lot like you.”

The turtle's shell is smooth under her thumb as Jo looks back down at the charm in her hand. It's for her. Well, duh, why else was it in the bag he held out to her? No one else was on this date and he wouldn't have made it for himself just to show off. Well, maybe. Sterling didn't seem like much of the show-off type. She swallows thickly, turning the turtle over and over as his words swam through her mind. Back when she was in Sinostra, Jo often found herself daydreaming about curling up on the ocean floor, the world muffled, nearly mute. The casino had always been so noisy, a kind of ceaseless buzz. And Jo was conscious of eyes everywhere. Lily's room had been a nice sanctuary, that much closer to be able to retreat from the world underwater. Her heart aches. The hell was with that new guy anyway? Mizu? Didn't that name mean 'water'? On top of that, his stupid profile had pink hair, so similar to Lily's. The walls have eyes and ears. Leo had said something similar before Jo discovered the cameras in Frostheim. Sometimes, a paranoid part of Jo wonders if Lily could still be watching her. Hating her for moving on. Delighting in the emotional turmoil of Leo not liking Jo as much as she did, so similar to how Jo hadn't liked Lily as much as she liked Leo. Funny, how things worked out. Jo deserved some punishment though. The thing is, she's not sure when that ends. When she's had enough. When the curse wears off.

8:37 PM

...Lily had asked Jo about her favourite animals once. Saved her from poison. Watched over her. Showed her that secret passage and left pocky there. Granted, the passage was for when Jo was deep in her disguise as Maver. What had Leo ever done, realistically? Just been funny? Wore the clothes she gave him? Put her silly gifts on display? Get her to do his make-up? Let her paint his nails? Save her from Hale and hold her oh so gently, like he might have been someone slightly softer on the inside, only to stubbornly insist her feelings for him made no sense. And imply he didn't feel anything of equal measure. Jo had known Leo longer than she'd known Lily. She's known Sterling even less in terms of time, even if the majority of the time Lily knew her was as Maver technically. What was Maver but an extension of Jo anyway? ... Did Jo even deserve gifts like this wooden turtle? Deserve dates? Deserve someone like Sterling? Her breath's a little shaky before Jo musters a bright smile and looks up at the cowboy beside her again. "This is beautiful. Thank you. I'm so used to giving out gifts, it feels strange to receive something. But I love it." Jo allows herself to push aside her heavy thoughts, and leans in, as if for a kiss--only to snatch Sterling's hat. Or, one of them. "Wh... what?" She stares blankly at the hat in her hands and the other one still sitting on Sterling's head. "You... were you wearing two hats the whole time, or..."

8:37 PM

A snicker slips past her shock and a moment later, Jo's doubled over with laughter. When she regains some sense of control, she places the stolen hat on her head with a slightly smug grin. Then she unclasps the necklace she already had on to slip the small turtle charm on it alongside the other charm she already had (a token with a date of around three years ago etched into it) before putting the necklace back on again. She's never taking that turtle off. "Anyone ever tell you that you're a real sweetheart, Mister Atlas?" Jo asks. She folds over the top of the paper bag to preserve their melonpan. Might as well save it for the train.

He watches her turn the charm over, silent, and he doesn’t say a damn word while she does. There’s something in her eyes—far-off and heavy—and he knows better than to poke it. Whatever place her thoughts go, it’s private. Not off-limits, maybe, but sacred in a way that deserves quiet. So he lets her be, lets the quiet fill up between them with warmth instead of pressure, his knee still resting lightly against hers. Still there. Still hers, if she wants. But when that laughter bursts out—sharp and sudden and rich like thunder after drought—he startles, blinking in open surprise before a grin takes over his whole face. The sound of her laugh? It’s everything. Bright and unapologetic and alive. And the fact that she’s wearing his hat while doing it? That just seals it. He’s officially doomed. Sterling leans in a bit, elbow on his knee as he watches her slide the charm onto her necklace, eyes flicking to the token already there with quiet interest—but he doesn’t ask. Just commits it to memory like it matters. Because it does. She’s never taking that turtle off? He doesn’t know that. But he sure as hell hopes. Her question draws him out of his thoughts, and he lets out a snort, shaking his head slowly with a lopsided grin.

4:03 PM

“Darlin’, people call me a lotta things—‘sweetheart’ ain’t usually top of the list.” He straightens a bit, mock-serious now, but his eyes are still lit with that familiar golden mischief. “I’ve heard ‘reckless,’ ‘disarming,’ ‘a real problem in tight jeans’—that one was from a bartender in Amarillo. But sweetheart?” He lets out a soft chuckle, nudging her shoulder. “Only from you. And only when you’re smilin’ like that, wearin’ my hat like you just claimed me in front of a town council.” He watches her fold the paper bag and tuck the melonpan away and leans back again, tilting his head to look at her sideways. “You are packin’ dangerously high levels of charm this mornin’, Waker. What’d you eat for breakfast? Confidence and chaos?” Then he tips his backup hat toward the tracks, where the distant sound of the train finally starts humming through the station. “Looks like that’s us. You ready to get sand in uncomfortable places and pretend we didn’t overpack snacks?” He stands and offers his hand, palm up, like he’s inviting her to the most ridiculous, romantic misadventure ever written.

'And only when you're smilin' like that, wearin' my hat like you just claimed me in front of a town council.' Something flickers in Jo's gaze, like a candle wavering in a draught at his words. An idea as she wonders what those words mean. To claim him in front of a town council. Wearing Sterling's hat. And his little carved charm. Like she was taking his hand and saying, 'This one's mine.' She thinks about the engagement ring she'd brought with her to contemplate at Rui's bar in Obscuary that night she first met Sterling. Jo can't linger too long in those thoughts, first because they're dangerous, and second, because he's giving her that look and calling her Waker, which makes her grin. She shakes her head slightly and admits, "Maybe I just finally decided which mountain I want to climb after getting out of the rock bottom you found me in. It's got me in higher spirits than usual." It's a piece of the honest truth. Jo might be struggling with guilt as she always does, with memories and people and memories of people, but she's made progress. The miracles of dream cowboys. Bringing back her charm, confidence, and glorious chaos. "And there's no such thing as overpacking on snacks." Jo readily takes Sterling's hand, calluses against scars. "...probably not. Anyway." She rises with him as the Galaxy Express comes to a stop and they board, still hand-in-hand.

3:04 AM

Even when they dig into their melonpan and watch the scenery go by in the windows, some part of them always seems to end up touching. If not their hands, their knees, shoulders, elbows, anything as they sit beside each other. Honestly, if Jo was watching someone else doing this, she'd probably roll her eyes at them. But it feels nice to actually be that person glowing and smitten. As guilty as she felt about Lily, train rides like this didn't seem like they would be possible with her. And maybe in her most buried daydreams, Jo thought about going out with Leo like this, actually admitting to wanting to spend time with each other outside of the academy and its missions. But Leo would never get her sweet rolls and murmur cheeky comments to make her laugh this much, and his eyes wouldn't sparkle quite like Sterling's do when she catches him staring. For a short while, Jo can relax and trust that Laurent's in good hands with Seiya. And for the first time in a long time, her cheeks actually ache with smiling. She talks a bit about the beaches in Australia, explaining how she's been surfing for years, and it was the one thing Stef was never all that into, which meant Jo had a lot of time to spend relishing the hobby alone. She doesn't realise it now, but later, she'll marvel at how easily bringing up Stef has become now with Sterling. Sometimes Jo would talk to Seiya about her sister, briefly, and with Zero she usually avoided the topic where she could. Old habits, painful memories. They don't feel so uncomfortable anymore though. ...was this what everyone was talking about, when they said they could tell their partners everything? ... When the train comes to a stop, Jo's almost disappointed. She could sit here in conversation with Sterling forever. But the promise of sand under her feet (and inevitably in uncomfortable places as Sterling said earlier), spurs her on out of the train and into the coastal sunlight, holding Sterling's hand.

He steps down from the train with Jo’s hand in his, the sun casting soft amber over her curls, and it hits him all over again just how real this is. She’s here. She stayed. She’s still staying. And god help him, he might never shut up about it. The coastal breeze kicks up around them, thick with the scent of salt and sunscreen and the distant screech of gulls. The train lets off its final hiss of steam behind them, but Sterling barely hears it—too busy watching the way Jo’s eyes squint slightly in the light, the wind tugging at her jacket, her expression full of cautious joy and something a little deeper. He gives her hand a squeeze and tips his head toward the ocean visible just past the boardwalk, water glittering like a pile of diamonds left out in the sun. “Well Miss Waker,” he says, slinging his bag over one shoulder, “you ready to make some regrettable sandal choices and prove you can out-surf me in every way imaginable?” His grin is all mischief now, a spark in his eye as he starts walking backward ahead of her. “I only ask 'cause I’m emotionally prepared to lose but not physically. So if I wipe out and you laugh, you’re legally obligated to help me up before taking pictures.”

The scent and taste of the salty air seems to add a little something to Jo's person. She's like a sail filling out fully with all the gale she needs as she goes from observing the coastline to looking ahead of her at Sterling with a matching spark in her eye. Her heart swells with the waves, but she's only looking at him. "I'll agree to those terms. But you're gonna have to be physically prepared to lose a lot sooner than you think," Jo teases, securing her bag over her chest with a wide grin. And after bringing Sterling's hand up to her lips and delivering a swift kiss to his knuckles, she lets go—and takes off down the boardwalk at full sprint. "LAST ONE TO THE WATER HAS TO GO STREAKING THROUGH CAMPUS!" The words carry on the wind as Jo shouts them, followed by peals of laughter. Is she evil because she knows of Sterling's pained leg? Yes. But does she slow down? No. So terribly evil. Jo vaults over the side of the boardwalk at a safe height and lands easily in the sand where she's quickly running off again, dumping her bag, shoes, and jacket along the way on the beach. Honestly, you'd think you had let a horse free out the gate to speed as fast as her legs would push her in just shorts and a shell-pink bikini as she races to the ocean. And she embraces it like an old, dear friend as Jo practically throws herself down into the saltwater, letting it tumble and carry her before she's kneeling in the shallows and curiously picking up shells as she waits for Sterling to join her. She'd go rent a surfboard in a bit. Right now, Jo was content.

She kisses his hand and he’s already a goner—heart thumping like a drum line, cheeks warmed by more than the sun. He’s about to make some poetic remark about love and seafoam or some other overly romantic bullshit when— Jo bolts. Sterling stands there frozen for a solid half second, blinking as her laughter rides the wind and she explodes off the boardwalk like a racehorse with a grudge against modesty. Her jacket goes flying. Her shoes. Her bag. The woman is stripping mid-sprint like her soul depends on it. “…Well, shit.” The evil glint in her eye suddenly makes perfect sense. She knows. She knows his leg’s not at full strength, and she pulled this off anyway. He grins like a lunatic as he breaks into a limp-sprint. It’s a ridiculous gait, part determined shuffle, part chaos, but he’s trying. He hobbles over the boardwalk, dramatically flings off his jacket mid-run (very heroic, if you ask him). He drops his shoes, yanks his shirt off on the go, and somehow still ends up laughing, even through the panting. By the time he makes it to the water, she’s already kneeling in the surf, soaked, glowing, wild, and looking like some ocean spirit conjured up from a sailor’s fever dream.

9:39 PM

Sterling staggers dramatically into the shallows like he’s crossing a battlefield, then falls forward with a theatrical splash. “Ah, my pride,” he groans, chest-deep in the water now. “You left it for dead back at the boardwalk.” Then he sits up beside her, brushing a hand through his dripping hair and giving her a look so soft it could melt wax. “…You are somethin’ else, Miss Waker.” And then—he splashes her. Full-force, cowboy-style.

Turning over a particularly interesting auger shell, well-intact, Jo watches Sterling's uneven gait go racing down the beach to her with a broad smile. She chuckles when he crashes into the water beside her like he's been fatally wounded, the sound bubbling into a laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'll have to find a way to bring your pride back to life, won't I?" After pocketing the shell, Jo leans in as Sterling sits up, admiring the drip of saltwater from the ends of his curls before her gaze drops to his meltingly soft eyes. Somewhere inside, she's grown alarmingly aware of the fact that the Snow Queen within her was thawing under the relentless warmth and kindness of this man. '...You are somethin' else, Miss Waker.' 'And I could say the same about you, Atlas,' she thinks, but she never gets the chance to say it. Her eyes shut instinctively with her sharp intake of breath as everything blurs and water goes cascading over her. Jo's hair hangs in wet locks over her face as she exhales and blinks at the cowboy. Then, she breaks into a toothy grin. Oh, this was war. Never take two ghouls to the beach for a water fight. They have even more strength than regular humans. The two practically send tidal waves at each other, outraged laughs and humourously indignant shouts of "HEY!" dancing between them. And because Jo's stubborn, she doesn't flee. No—instead, she resorts to eventually tackling Sterling around the waist so they both go tumbling into the shallows. Jo has the cowboy pinned to the sand as the remnants of waves lap at them. She makes sure to hold his wrists so he can't continue splashing her. "Y'know, I vaguely recall you calling me a menace some time ago. I'm starting to think you might be the real menace between us."

8:00 AM

...silvery hair and golden eyes. 'Jo.' A hand pinning her wrists. 'We either do this my way, or you walk back to your dorm. Up to you.' Undoing the rope at his waist. His teeth leaving bites over her neck, breasts, lips trailing down over her stomach and further— —and her hands sunk into brown curls as she arches off Sterling's bed, or as much as she could, with a desperate sound while he held down her hips and— She hastily let go of the cowboy and swayed to her feet, dripping as she climbs back up the beach, an inexplicable blush colouring her face. "Just gonna check out the surfboard rentals," she calls over her shoulder. It was annoying to still think of Leo sometimes. Yet somehow strange that her thoughts of that night now blended with the one she spent with Sterling. Or, not strange. It was probably normal to think about the guy you were currently seeing rather than an old one. Duh. Though this was oddly new. If given the choice to experience only one of those nights again, Jo finds it's easy to choose Sterling. It could be for any number of reasons. But it was important to her that she seemed to finally be shaking even the memory of Leo loose, bit by bit. And Jo didn't have to play mind games when it came to Sterling. Didn't have to pretend like she didn't want him. Didn't have to guess at his feelings for her. Well, not too much. He clearly seemed to care, and good deal more openly than Leo at that. A nagging part of her does wonder how seriously Sterling views her though. Would Jo even take herself serious in his shoes, knowing what she does about herself and her past? Jo pays the rental fee for two surfboards at a kiosk, carefully packing her thoughts away for later. It was a heavy day. She was meant to be enjoying her date, not getting caught in her head every half hour.

Still sprawled in the surf like a man wounded in battle, Sterling blinks through water droplets clinging to his lashes as Jo launches herself at him, a blur of muscle, wet hair, and righteous vengeance. His laugh gets caught halfway in his throat as they crash down, his back hitting the packed sand with a muted thud and a startled exhale. She's on top of him, pinning his wrists, soaked and flushed and grinning like some sea-witch warrior queen who just conquered her kingdom. And Sterling—God help him—falls in love a little harder. Her words make him grin, that same crooked thing he always gives her when he’s pretending not to be completely enchanted. “Oh no,” he drawls, breathless, “I maintain my earlier claim. You are absolutely a menace. I’m just the poor dumb cowboy who didn’t pack a life jacket.” He shifts just slightly under her, like he might try to escape, but doesn’t put any real effort into it. Not when she’s looking at him like that. Not when her wet hair is clinging to her cheek and her knee’s resting on his thigh and he’s pretty sure he could lie here like this for the rest of the day and call it paradise. But then—She lets go.

7:12 PM

Something changes in an instant. Her expression flickers. Her hands withdraw. She’s already up and walking away before he can sit up, her voice tossed over her shoulder like a towel drying her off: "Just gonna check out the surfboard rentals." Sterling watches her climb the beach, water trailing down her back like ink in motion, and the wind snatches at her hair as she goes. His brow furrows slightly—not because she left, but because of the way she left. The blush. The sudden shift. Like a curtain dropped mid-scene. He sits up, wet and sandy, watching her reach the rental stand. Doesn’t follow just yet. Instead, he exhales slowly and lets the tide kiss his ankles a few more times, giving her space. He’s not stupid. He knows Jo’s past isn’t a closed door—it’s a hallway full of shadows. Some of them shaped like other people. Some of them shaped like versions of herself she’s trying to kill off. And it’s okay. She doesn’t owe him everything, not right now. Maybe not ever. But he wants her to know: he notices. He doesn’t turn away. And he’s still here. Eventually, Sterling gets to his feet, shakes the water from his curls, and strolls up the sand after her, tucking the melonpan bag under his arm as he comes up behind her at the kiosk. He doesn’t press her or question her sudden exit. Instead, he says gently: “Got me a challenge coin once from a retired marine who said he only gave 'em to people who scared the shit out of him. I think you’d qualify, Waker.” *His voice is playful, sure, but his eyes are soft when she turns to look at him again. He bumps her elbow with his lightly, not enough to jostle—just enough to remind her: he's still here.* “Two boards, huh? You planning on showing me up and stealing my dignity in front of the local seagull population? 'Cause I got news for you, darlin’. My dignity left the moment I hit the water face-first.”

Sterling. Leo. Leo, Sterling. That was always the way when your attentions were torn, wasn't it? Leo was unreadable, cool, sly, fierce, and pretty. Sterling was like a lake with his sparkling surface and surprising depth, and he was warm, charmingly witty, passionate, and jaw-droppingly gorgeous. The thing is... what Jo's done time and time again is to gravitate toward the most comfortable situation. The most familiar. What was familiar was uncertainty, instability, one-sidedness, and torture. That was what Leo represented to her. Jo couldn't read him as well as she could read other people, at least, she doesn't think she can. Not after she had tried to get him to confess to something and received only dismissals. But then they'd had sex. And everything after that has been a mess of petty communications Jo's starting to think might have been caused by some misunderstanding she hasn't yet grasped. Leo was familiar. She'd known him distantly about as long as she had known Seiya and Zero. And the nature of whatever their relationship was at this point was an easy pattern of insecurity. She moved on from Lily for that easiness. Jo wonders when she'll stop feeling guilty and upset and so utterly muddled about Lily leaving without a word. She should have said something. Explained things honestly to her pretty eye in the sky. Maybe Lily would have understood. Jo's not sure. Lily wasn't as familiar. She presented unique feelings and problems. And now it's the same with Sterling. He's... different. Much in the same way Lily was different from everyone else. Things weren't one-sided, at least they didn't appear to be. They're both such warm people. Incredibly caring. Performing acts small and large in service of others. When Jo asks either of them questions, they had been open. Honest. Earnest, even, as if determined to give Jo the answers she sought, unafraid to be known to her in any way that would bring them closer.

10:21 AM

It's frightening to her. Jo could count on one hand the number of people she had been loved by in her whole life. It was a pitifully small number including Stef and Zero. Maybe her mother, once, in some way, if the custard and the lullabies meant anything. And now, Laurent. But romantic love especially? Totally alien. She'd panicked when Lily joked about it once. And now Jo worries about it with Sterling. The looks he gives her. The things he does. More than that, Jo worries about the steady warmth burning like a merry hearth in her heart. What if she's reading all this wrong and she winds up in love and unrequited again? What happens if it is requited? What if Sterling turned out to be a different person once he knew he had her? What if they wanted different things? What if she was moving too fast? Too slow? What if he was falling for her faster and Jo wouldn't be ready for much, much longer even once she forgot about Leo? ... His voice comes smoothly rich and low from behind. Instead of tensing up, Jo's shoulders sink, and her facial muscles soften. She's glad to be interrupted from her thoughts. It gives her a slight jolt though when she registers what he said. 'Only gave 'em to people who scared the shit out of him. I think you'd qualify, Waker.' ...Sterling couldn't read her mind, that was silly. Though Jo also didn't know what his stigma was, come to think of it. She's not sure she's mentioned hers yet either. Maybe another time. It was just as possible she was simply easy to read. Was her nervous energy and fear really as plain as day? That was embarrassing. She turns to look at him with a crooked little smile, slightly sheepish. It blooms into a grin as she huffs a soft laugh when Sterling gently knocks their elbows. There her heart goes again, dancing and singing like this man inspires music in her soul that only she can hear. (edited)

10:21 AM

He's here. Her anchor in rough seas. ... Hers. ... "Don't worry," she says, regaining her spirit again as she selects her board from the rack. After giving Sterling an up and down look with a teasing smirk, she adds, "I'll take it easy on you and your lost dignity. We can't have you disappointing your seagull fans." Well-timed, a seagull loudly squawks at Sterling. Jo presses a kiss to his cheek as she passes with a cheeky murmur of "Good luck" before she heads back to the water where she waits for him.

He doesn’t need to read minds to know when someone’s adrift. He’s spent enough time fighting his own tides to spot it in others—the way a gaze fixes too long on something ordinary, how smiles get just a little too sharp around the edges, or how someone like Jo, who carries storms in her bones, can suddenly feel very far away. But then she looks at him. And smiles, not just for show but something real, and that’s all he needs. He stays close, not crowding, not pressing. Just there. Solid and warm and dry-witted as ever. Her smirk gets him first, then the once-over she gives him like she’s sizing him up for his final rites. “Oh no,” he mutters, “not the Up-And-Down. That’s the international sign of doom.” But before he can say anything else, the gull screams at him like it knows. Sterling turns slowly to squint at it. “…Uncalled for,” he tells the bird, deadpan. Then she’s close—too close—and kissing his cheek, and he doesn’t even try to hide the way it short-circuits him for half a second. His hand twitches like he wants to catch her as she passes, but he doesn’t. Just watches, cheeks flushed and heart somersaulting. “Good luck,” she says with a wink in her voice, and it makes him grin like a man who’s already lost the bet but doesn’t mind at all. He watches her walk off with the board tucked under her arm like it’s the sword of a sea-bound knight, and for a moment he just stands there, breath caught in his throat. “Well, hell.” He chooses his board—and jogs to catch up. As he wades into the water beside her, he mutters, grinning, “If I drown tryin’ to impress you, please put somethin’ poetic on my tombstone. Somethin’ like, ’Here lies Sterling Atlas. He tried. He failed. He looked damn good doin’ it.’”

Honestly, with Sterling's blush still fresh in her mind, she very nearly hums a tune as she enters the water. Nearly. Jo hadn't completely lost herself yet, though she's getting dangerously close. She waits, board at her side, before Sterling joins her in the water, grinning something eager and sweet. He didn't seem daunted by possibly wiping out. Jo could have told him she wouldn't judge anyway--she once spent the better half of a day watching Seiya wobble off his board when she was teaching him. The memory still makes her smile. Together they wade deeper into the surf as he speaks. Jo gives an unladylike snort that she attempts, and fails, to cover up. "Sure, cowboy." Her eyes sparkle as she goes to sit on her board, throwing him another glance. "You should know you look damn good doing anything." Unbidden rises a recollection of that day they were doused in ammonia and his eyes had been red with irritation, his nose too as he spluttered, coughed, and snorted. God... she wonders if he looks like that when he cries too. Reddened, wrecked. ...Jo's pretty sure there's something wrong with her. "Also, you're not gonna drown. Not on my watch. Because I'll save you." Jo Waker as a lifeguard AU After she says this, she lays on her belly and starts paddling into the swells. For once, she doesn't automatically think about how she had once failed to save Stef. It must be her lucky day, because Jo doesn't have to wait long at all before she spots the rise of a wave she likes, and she turns to start scooping the water with cupped hands and strong arms as she faces the shore again, letting the wave drag her up and take her. The change-up is swift as she jumps to her feet and drops down, carving a line in the wave as she rides it out with a broad grin. This was freedom. This was home. This was like the first sip of water after being parched. Every so often, she looks over her shoulder to check on Sterling.

He watches her paddle out like she belongs to the sea. It’s not poetic exaggeration—Jo Waker on a surfboard is like watching lightning get comfortable. Fluid, powerful, unrepentantly graceful. He knows she’s strong, of course he does, but out here? She’s something else. He doesn’t even pretend not to stare. When she says she’ll save him, it hits him harder than it should—her voice light, teasing, but sincere under the surface. He stores it away, close to the heart. A small, impossible promise from a woman who’s lost and still dares to offer safety anyway. God help him. He pushes out on his own board after her, grinning even though it takes a little more work. His leg isn’t thrilled, but it’s worth it. And the water’s cold in a way that feels good—sharp, energizing, like it’s trying to carve him into something leaner, cleaner. Jo’s already spotted a wave and taken it like it was made for her. Sterling doesn’t try to follow it. He knows better. He watches her rise up, move, fly over the swell, and it actually makes him laugh—head thrown back, the sound carried by the wind. “You’re showing off!” he calls after her, fond and amazed and a little bit in awe. “You’re a menace!” When she glances back over her shoulder, she’ll see him catch a smaller wave. He rises—not as fluid, not as fast—but steady. And when he finds his footing, he rides it in with that cowboy swagger still intact, knees slightly bent, grin fixed like it’s been nailed to his face. He whoops as he hits the shallows and hops off the board with a splash, pumping a fist in the air. “Still got it!” he yells, chest heaving, hair wild, dripping. “That was—okay, that was maybe a six outta ten, but it felt like a ten!” He catches her eyes again, breathless, shining with salt and joy.

When Sterling calls her out for showing off, Jo grins impossibly wider with laughter bubbling up as she rides the wave. She's pleased when she looks over her shoulder to see Sterling managing his own on another wave. He really did look good doing anything. Jo comes to a stop by Sterling, eyes glittering as she watches him celebrate. His hair's a mess, he's glowing from within like a warmly lit house in dark winter, and his chest heaves with exertion. She doesn't think much of it when she curves a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him into a salty kiss, stealing whatever little breath he had left. Her thoughts are utterly, blessedly quiet for the first time that day. ... When Jo pulls away, a rosy blush colours her face that she quickly turns to hide. "...wanna go again?" she asks, already wading further into the water in search of her next wave. Later, they're toweling off on the beach, surf boards returned, as the sunset reddens on its drunkenly slow descent to the horizon. Jo's hair has reached a new state of curliness as it gradually dries. The carved wooden turtle remains resting below her collarbones, secure and at home on her. "What do you think comes after the academy for us ghouls?" Jo asks curiously. "I swear I had more freedom with the Australian Institute than most ghouls do here while attending Darkwick." She folds up her towel and pulls on her jacket, letting it hang open over her bikini. "If you could do anything, go anywhere, after graduation: what would you do?"

The kiss hits him like another wave—fast, salt-sweet, and all-consuming. His breath’s already shallow, but Jo taking it from him like that makes his knees threaten mutiny. Her hand at the back of his neck, her mouth pressed to his with no preamble or apology— He’s done for. Totally, very willingly, done for. He doesn’t even get a word in before she’s pulling away, flushed and already turning from him like she didn’t just level him emotionally and physically. He lets out a soft, awed laugh, a little dazed, but recovers just in time to call after her as she wades back into the sea. “…You’re lucky I’m into power moves!” he yells, grinning like a fool. ...

6:21 PM

Later, with the boards returned and the air turned soft with sunset, Sterling towels off his hair and lies back on the sand beside her, propped up on one elbow. He watches Jo as she dries off and shrugs on her jacket, her curls framing her face like sun-drunk laurels and the turtle charm catching the last of the daylight against her chest. God, she’s beautiful. And real. And still here. Her question pulls his gaze from her to the horizon. The sun’s burning low and red, like it’s trying to light the ocean on fire before sinking into it. He watches it for a moment, quiet, thoughtful. He drags a hand through his still-damp curls, expression shifting softer, more honest. “I used to think I’d just go back. Back home. Take over the ranch from my grandparents, maybe fix up the truck I left behind. Mills would call me crazy, but I thought maybe I’d even teach—shop class, maybe. Something that keeps my hands busy.” He pauses, turns his head slightly to look at her again. “But lately… Lately I think about buildin’ somethin’ new. Somewhere different. Someplace not marked by what came before. A little house near the water, maybe. Garden out back. Neighbors you can actually trust. Probably sounds like a dream. But after everything—I don’t want to go back to before. I wanna go forward. With people who make it worth the risk.” His eyes flick to hers, and stay. “…What about you, Miss Waker? You thinkin’ about goin’ back to Australia, or are you plannin’ on takin’ over the whole damn country?”