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Bulletproof Weeks
By gilligankane


Somewhere in between the beginning and the end, Emily forgot what it felt like to be vulnerable, to be weak, to be unhappy. She forgot what it felt like to fear every turn in the road. She forgot how wary she was of every new situation. She forgot to be afraid of people, and the potential evil they possessed.

Because in JJ's arms, she only knows how safe and warm she is, how naïve she is, how perfect the world is.

But the summer is fading into the distance and now, now JJ's arms are slipping from her shoulders and it's letting the chill of the impending winter slip under her skin.

September came out of nowhere, stole her security and took of residency in the forefront of her mind, repeating over and over again: she'll leave you with the snowfall.

But the summer is fading into the distance, and neither of them have the courage, the will, the desire, to say anything about it. It's unspoken: when summer leaves, no one says a word. No one says a word and they pretend like no one gets hurt.

But just because they don't talk about it doesn't mean that Emily doesn't think about it. She thinks about it every day. She thinks about every moment:

JJ, sauntering towards her, a coffee in one hand, and a smirk plastered on her face.

JJ, passing by her in the hall, one hand lingering on the brunette's waist.

JJ, opening the windows and jumping back into bed, insisting on staying there until the lights of the city light up Emily's bedroom.

But the summer is fading and it leaves Emily with more questions than memories. What happened? She wants to ask desperately. She's never been the type to beg, to get down on her knees, but if it will result in JJ explaining to her why she leaves, or, even better, stop JJ from leaving, Emily will do anything it takes.

She's used to feeling bulletproof in JJ's arms, and when the blonde lets her go, she feels like she's an open shot, a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

But the summer is fading fast and JJ is half there, half gone and Emily has to watch the words she says. She knows JJ knows she's weak.

Emily is afraid she'll say the wrong thing eventually, she'll slip up and JJ will never come back when the summer does.

She deliberates every word, rolling it around in her head and on her tongue before she opens her mouth, because losing JJ is one thing she won't be able to do without falling apart.

Winter is setting in, seeping into her bones and through the walls, making its home among her life, eliminating the warmth from her days. JJ is her warmth, and in the winter, when she goes away, Emily's defenses are shattered like glass littering an empty sidewalk.

JJ is her bulletproof glass, and when she's not there, Emily breaks so much more easily.

The brunette wants to make JJ understand; wants to ask her: what happened?

But the summer is fading, and her bulletproof life is becoming decidedly more breakable, and Emily is just going to have to wait until the summer comes around again, wait until the end becomes the beginning again.

Somewhere in between the beginning and the end, Emily forgot there were such things.

The End

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