Chapter Text
Elva’s POV
The long hand of her alarm clock struck 9 P.M.
Elva had just finished putting the final touches on her luggage for her trip back home the next day. She made sure all her bags were ready by the door before retiring to her bed.
Packing while sick had worn her out quickly. She curled under the covers with a heat pack despite the warm summer night, and wore a hoodie over her pajamas. She always got really cold when she was sick. Her throat hurt less now, thanks to the throat spray, but her head was still foggy, her nose was stuffy, and everything felt hazy due to her low-grade fever.
The first thing she did was open Tumblr.
Wisteriuh had been quiet all day. Elva received a prompt reply from Flamealchemist in the middle of her pharmacy run with Jasper, her ever-protective best friend, who had no idea she was chatting with a strange man with an even stranger fetish on the Internet. She felt just as caught as she did when they were in Evana’s car, except Jasper was nowhere near her when she was texting her mutual—there was no way he could’ve caught her doing anything. She’d hastily logged out of Tumblr and ghosted Flamealchemist for the remaining time she spent out with him.
But right now, she was going to forget about that and check on her favorite Snzblr mutual.
She blinked blearily at her screen. There was a new audio from Flamealchemist.
allergies25.mp3
#allergies #sneezing #snzblr #snz audio #snzfucker #stifle fail
Elva had a neutral stance on allergies, but because it was him, she clicked play.
“Huhh-HhuhhH-HT’SCHNXTchh! H’KTSSCH’IEW!!”
The sniffle afterward sold it for her. Her phone was pressed directly against her ear since she was too lazy to get her earbuds, and the sound instantly ignited arousal. She wasn’t going to masturbate tonight, though.
She glanced at the caption.
[allergies25.mp3]
I think I’m allergic to something in the dorm carpet :(
God, why did he sound so endearing?
***
Jasper’s POV
It was finally summer break.
Jasper woke up early to head to the bus and go back home with Elva to their small midwestern town.
When he met her there, he opined that she was dressed way too warmly for the weather.
She didn’t say “hi”, just handed him her bag, like routine. He took it expectantly, and she slid into the window seat. By the time he finished putting their luggage in the overhead compartment and settled down, her head was already on his shoulder.
During the past few days, Wisteriuh had been telling him all about her cold (it’s a thing).
He’d been listening to her wav on repeat. Elva wouldn't like the thought of him getting hard to it—though some women he’d interacted with on Tumblr did like receiving those comments—so he didn't tell Wisteriuh anything remotely suggestive.
In the messaging app, he read Elva’s texts—long rants about how her dormmates were too loud, how she felt uncomfortable in her own skin (physically and metaphorically), and how she didn’t want anyone to see her like this. Wisteriuh had asked him if he’d ever induced himself with chhinkni. Elva had asked if she was selfish for hogging the bathroom to cry.
Now, here she was beside him, wrapped in a soft fleece cardigan in the middle of summer; sick, sleepy, and so full of trust that it made his heart burst. It terrified him—he didn’t want to lose all this if he confessed. Of all the girls he dated in the past, none of them could compare to this oblivious girl.
Elva shifted slightly and sniffled. Seeking comfort, her hand slipped into his, and he tightened it instinctively.
Wisteriuh had been borderline flirting with him. Elva, on the other hand, had been messaging him late at night to tell him how she hated feeling vulnerable around her dormmates and how she wished she could teleport home.
Wisteriuh made his pulse race, and Elvie made his heart ache. These weren’t two separate people; they were both Elva.
His cowardice was killing him inside.
***
Elva’s POV
She probably looked ridiculous wearing a light gray fleece cardigan in the kind of weather that made one sweat buckets. The brand of medical masks she bought at the pharmacy was somewhat tighter than she was used to, because the one she was wearing right now felt a little suffocating. She wasn’t going to take it off—she didn’t want to infect anyone in this air-conditioned bus. There was an elderly couple two seats ahead, a toddler somewhere behind, and Jasper—who’d reassured her that he wouldn’t catch anything because he already had a cold—but still, she wanted to be cautious.
She planned to pass the time by sleeping. Traveling with a cold made her prone to feeling grumpy and overstimulated, especially on long road trips. She was also the type to get headaches if she did so much as read in a moving vehicle. The best solution was to put herself in a cold medicine-induced coma and sleep the entire ride.
Jasper was keeping himself busy and productive as usual. A while ago, he had his earbuds in and was sketching something. Then the bus went over a speed bump, and he clicked his tongue when he accidentally drew an unsightly line across the page.
She sighed. There was no texting Flamealchemist with Jasper sitting right beside her.
What was she even doing chatting up strange men? She’d gotten way too comfortable discussing her cold fetish with this guy. It was reckless. But she was sick. Her brain didn’t work properly when she was sick.
She lifted her head from Jasper’s shoulder and leaned against the window. She rested her arm on the armrest, knocking into his elbow. He didn’t flinch or move away. Neither did she.
Eventually, he moved to grab her tote bag because she’d coughed once and needed water. She hadn’t even uttered a word to him to help. And then, he reached into his own bag to pull out a book to read. It was a second-hand copy of Crime and Punishment.
Jasper had always been so thoughtful. He took care of her in ways that didn’t make her feel coddled, and would make her feel less overwhelmed in a crowded room—or bus. And still she thought about the anonymous man she was talking to online. She’d never had to deal with “boy troubles” before. All of this was extremely distressing.
—
The bus pulled into a small roadside diner. There was a gas station nearby, but Elva didn’t want to think about it. She associated gas stations with her shame.
The driver announced a thirty-minute break. The other passengers began filing out in a disordered fashion. She and Jasper waited until the crowd was clear before standing up. Jasper moved first, and she followed behind sluggishly.
They chose a booth by the window. This pit stop was one of Elva’s favorite parts of road trips, the other being getting to listen to music and daydream along the ride. But today, she just felt so out of it. She didn’t complain out loud, but she was suddenly aware of how uncushioned diner seats were. She fidgeted in her seat, failing to get properly comfortable.
Jasper, who sat across from her, glanced in her direction for permission when the waiter came up to them. She nodded, and he ordered for both of them. He was having grilled cheese and fries, and he ordered her mushroom soup with garlic bread.
It dawned upon her that she’d been venting to him all week and didn’t even ask how he was doing.
When the waiter left, she cleared her throat and spoke for the first time in hours.
“How was your week?” she asked hoarsely.
Jasper had to lean in and ask her to repeat that.
“My week?” he mused. “Uh, chaotic. Nothing out of the ordinary, just finals and student council stuff. I haven’t slept properly since Tuesday. I think I forgot how to blink.”
She sniffled, but managed a grin, though Jasper couldn’t see it since it was hidden behind her mask.
“You?” he asked, even though he already knew.
She shrugged. “Everyone in my dorm was annoying me with their ‘concern’. I felt bad for secretly hating everyone in my head… It’s just that they were talking to me as if I were some sort of fragile thing.”
“Do they know that you can drive a four-wheel drive car? That’s pretty badass of you, Elvie.”
“Pfft,” she scoffed, “As if that would prove anything.”
“It proves many things.”
And then he spoke in a quiet voice. “Eat something when it comes, okay?”
She nodded. She didn’t know why, but something in the softness of his voice made her body feel warm, not out of embarrassment, but something more tender and vulnerable.
Her food arrived before his, but she said she’d wait for his to come, and then she would start eating. However, after his meal had long arrived, she was still absent-mindedly stirring her soup.
She hadn’t taken off her mask until they’d gotten to their booth, and that was only because Jasper had said, “You need to eat, Elvie”, in a tone so soft that she had relented, even when her nose was running badly when she took it off. He didn’t seem to care—but it was Jasper. He’d seen her ugly cry—that man was not fazed by anything.
She dipped her bread into the soup and stirred it absently. After letting it get soggy, she took a small, half-hearted bite. The soup was seasoned enough that she could taste it even with a stuffy nose.
“See? Not so bad.” Jasper grinned around a fry.
He was already halfway through his large portion of fries and grilled cheese, munching happily. He looked like he hadn’t been wrecked by the semester, but Elva knew better. Just because he carried things well didn't mean that it wasn’t heavy.
They ate in silence. She thought about her secret. She thought about who she was on Tumblr. Her mind drifted back to Flamealchemist and how honest that man was with her. He was more confessional than her pragmatic Jasper could ever be.
She hated that she compared them.
Jasper wasn’t meant to be compared to strangers online. He was real and right here in front of her. He carried her bags without asking and ordered soup for her, having all her preferences memorized. He knew she could drive her aunt’s 4WD and knew all her skills and hobbies… Did Flamealchemist know any of that? Flamealchemist knew she wrote kinky fanfiction and expressed her ideas and feelings in writing, but all of that was centered around her fetish. Did he know that she wasn’t as engaging as she portrayed herself to be online, in real life?
She had no one to talk to about these two versions of herself. Online, she could be a really interesting person, but here in reality, she was too tired to speak and feared she was too stoic and boring to be any semblance of a likable person.
“Elvie?”
She sniffled and lifted her head. Jasper was looking at her.
“You okay?” he asked gently. “You spaced out.”
“Just tired,” she murmured.
“You’ve barely touched your soup.”
“I’m eating,” she lied. She dipped the remaining bits of garlic bread into her soup with a little more vigor.
He didn’t press her.
When Elva was sure Jasper wasn’t looking, she watched him eat. He was so endearing in the way he emptied a packet of ketchup on the edge of his plate, how his hair flopped a little when he leaned forward. She remembered when he once had a phase where he’d use ounces of pomade on his head during high school. It made his light brown hair all weird and stiff, but he was still handsome anyway. He could do whatever he wanted.
“Elva, try some,” he said as he unloaded a spoonful of fries onto her bread plate. They really did give him a large portion. “You need more solids.”
“Okay,” she replied noncommittally.
***
Jasper’s POV
Later on the bus, Jasper waited for Elva to move into her seat before sitting down next to her. She immediately pulled out her phone and started texting.
A moment later, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.
Elva: sorry if im being weird today. i just don’t feel well
He couldn’t believe this girl.
- She wasn’t being “weird” at all.
- Aww.
His thumbs moved quickly to type a reply.
Jasper: You weren’t. It’s all good, Elvie
She didn’t reply, just slipped her phone back into her pocket, and stared out the window.
He thought about the texts she’d sent him as Wisteriuh.
“i’ve officially reached the ‘everything tastes like cardboard’ stage of my cold. is that medically recognized yet?”
“if i write a snzfic based on my own symptoms, is that meta or just sad?”
He glanced at Elva from the corner of his eye. Her head was facing forward, but her eyes were darting around; she usually did that when she was nervous. Then, she pulled down her mask and wiped her nose on her sleeve, and pulled it back up.
Dear Elvie, you have tissues.
That girl would rather sniffle her nose off than blow it in public. Earlier, he had to slide into her side of the booth at the diner so she could hide behind him while she blew her nose. Hot tea and soup made it really runny, and she’d been going "Snf! Snf!" the entire time. It was adorable, but it was really putting him off his food.
He could forgive her for wiping her nose on her sleeve like a heathen. She was too cute for her own good.
Twenty minutes after the bus was back on the road, Elva had drifted off to sleep with her head against the window. He noticed her shivering, so he reached for the blanket from the top of her backpack and spread it over her body.
How long could he keep this up?
Jasper leaned back and stared ahead. Elva didn’t know how significant her presence was in his life.
When they were in their senior year, there was a mental health talk during the last period. In their math class before that, Jasper had spent the entire lesson cracking jokes and making the class laugh. Imagine the horror when the counselor started talking about a certain topic, and he rushed out of the room. He didn’t do publicly sad—people wouldn’t know what to do with that. He could imagine the entire class murmuring if anyone suspected anything at all.
Thankfully, the person who volunteered to check on him was Elva.
She went inside the boys’ bathroom, which was conveniently empty and perfect for a breakdown. He didn’t push her away because she was the only one who knew why he was crying.
Elva locked the door and stood beside him with an arm around his, while they waited for his hot and angry tears to subside. One of his cousins, also his best friend, had passed away. He didn’t cry during the funeral. He was the one who gave the eulogy. To avoid confronting his feelings of grief, he kept himself busy.
No one had ever seen him cry, aside from his mother and Elva.
When he finally calmed down and they left the bathroom, Elva, the girl who was deathly afraid of getting in trouble and struggled with moral perfectionism, fabricated a lie, saying that Jasper ate bad meatballs at the cafeteria and was throwing up to justify his blotchy face and bloodshot eyes. No one questioned her authority because she was such a goody-two-shoes. They had dinner at his house later and played Nintendo games until her brother came to pick her up.
With Elva, he could admit his pride, he could express his sadness, and show his vulnerability. Every time he would come to her with his weakness, she showed him kindness and said things that made him see situations in a different light. Without her, his life would be utterly dull.
He could only hope that eventually she would start putting two and two together. If not, he’d simply have to cowboy up and tell her how he really felt.