Chapter Text
It began innocently enough.
Jinx was still new to the city, and she liked to watch it the way some people liked to watch fish glide through an aquarium or clouds drift lazily across the sky. The streets below her window were always alive with motion. Cars darting between lights, people weaving in and out of each other’s paths, chaos flowing in a strange kind of harmony. Oddly enough, it calmed her. She’d catch herself wondering who these people were, where they were headed, what little dramas or victories filled their lives. Sometimes, she even gave them names, invented jobs... spun whole stories out of nothing.
And then they’d disappear. Gone into the void, never to be seen again.
Just a game to pass the time.
After a while, it became tedious; too much of a task to make everything up about everyone she saw, so she started looking beyond the streets.
Across the small, two-lane street from her building stood a glass-walled skyscraper, nearly identical to her own. Most of the apartments had no curtains, especially on the upper floors. The windows stretched from floor to ceiling. She could see directly into them unless the tenants had drawn their curtains, and most—especially those on the upper floors—didn’t see a need, especially for common areas like living rooms or kitchens.
Soon, Jinx found herself watching her neighbors the way she once watched the streets. But this was different. More personal. These weren’t faceless strangers who vanished into the crowd. These were people she could observe again and again, lives unfolding piece by piece as the days went by. It was a sense of familiarity she didn’t know she craved.
The newlyweds on the third floor were looking at paint swatches for a nursery.
The gay couple on the sixth floor was fighting again. A real shame; Jinx thought they could pull through if they just put their petty squabbles aside.
And then, one afternoon, her eyes found you.
The newest tenant in the apartment a floor below hers, which had remained dark and vacant for weeks until now. A young woman curled on the sofa with a book in hand, expression soft, lost in an entirely different world.
Something tugged at her chest. Jinx’s brow furrowed, her curiosity running deeper than it had ever been for anyone she’d watched before. It wouldn’t do to just manufacture a story for you—no, not this time. She needed to know who you really were. The facts.
As the hours passed, she couldn’t shake this feeling. The deep need to know you. The thoughts began to plague her quiet moments, and she even found herself hunting down the book you’d been reading. A quick search told her it was one of those popular, raunchy novels. The revelation made her grin.
So you liked tasteful filth. Intriguing.
As the days crept by, Jinx found herself orbiting you, her routine bending around your schedule.
Work all day. You’d be home by 5:30, usually carrying takeout or a small bag of groceries. She timed her own dinners to match yours, creating an illusion of togetherness. Afterward, the pattern never varied: laptop, phone, or book in hand until the sun dipped out of sight. A shower. Fresh clothes. Feeding your cat.
Then, like clockwork, you curled up with a blanket on the couch and turned on your favorite show. Jinx began playing the same episodes on her own screen, pretending the two of you were watching together. In truth, she barely noticed the show. Her attention was on you—on the way you slouched when you relaxed, on the brief flare of amusement that brightened your face when something humorous happened on screen.
She couldn’t hear your laughter from this distance, but she could see it. And that was enough. More than enough.
When your eyes grew heavy and your yawns pulled you toward bed, Jinx followed suit, retreating into her own bedroom as though you had given her permission to rest. Jinx’s room was on the left side of the building, which didn’t have a view of your apartment. Even so, you always kept the blinds in your bedroom drawn, so she couldn’t see in there anyway.
Regardless, this schedule worked its way into a rhythm. Comfortable and almost domestic in its own strange way. Yet for Jinx, it was unlike anything she’d ever known.
Usually, when curiosity struck, she had the internet at her fingertips. Social media to devour, profiles to scroll to her heart’s content. But she didn’t even have your name, and thus your entire life—aside from what she could physically see—was off-limits.
That fact gnawed at her.
One evening, she paced her apartment, teeth tugging at her lip, restless as you sat oblivious across the street, bathed in the blue glow of your television screen. The not-knowing was becoming intolerable.
Her first idea was to call the leasing office, play dumb, and ask for your name, but she knew they wouldn’t just hand out tenant information like that.
So if she couldn’t find out who you were from where you lived, that only left one option.
***
Jinx told herself it wasn’t weird when she was watching you through your window. And it wasn’t weird, either, when she trailed you through the city one chilly morning. She didn’t have bad intentions, so it couldn’t be strange or predatory. She was simply curious as to where you worked.
And your name and everything else about you.
You led her to The Velvet Page.
A bookshop. Of course! She should’ve guessed it. Jinx perched at the café across the street with a cup of coffee clutched in both hands, torn between two impulses.
Go in.
Don’t go in.
Maybe I could talk to her, she thought.
And maybe you’ll make a fool of yourself in front of her. Or worse, she’ll realize you’re the girl from across the street who spends half the night staring out the window and she’ll think you’re a weirdo stalker.
I am not a stalker, she countered, scowling into her coffee. Maybe I can just see her… That’s it, I don’t even have to talk to her.
She stood, resolve strong, and crossed the street. As she entered, the tiny bell over the door chimed, but the sound was swallowed by the crowd of city-folk milling between shelves. No one paid her any mind.
Jinx’s eyes found you almost instantly. Stocking shelves from a rolling cart, a soft smile playing at your lips. You hummed some tune she couldn’t place, content in a way that made her chest feel tight.
When you turned in her direction, Jinx spun on her heel like a thief caught in the act, pretending to study the nearest display—an entire section on ancient Greece. Smooth, she thought grimly, tracking the rattle of your cart as it squeaked down the opposite aisle. She let out a slow, silent breath.
Too close.
And yet… not nearly close enough.
Fueled by anxiety and adrenaline in equal measure, she snatched a random book and strolled to the front desk. The cashier—a kind-eyed older woman with a nametag that read Doris—rang her up.
“Is there anything else I can help you find?” Doris asked, scanning the barcode on the book.
“Well…” Jinx bit her lip anxiously. “Actually… this is a little embarrassing, but my apartment is several blocks away and…” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and feigned embarrassment. “I really, really need to pee.”
“Oh,” the woman replied, eyes filled with sympathy. After taking a moment to consider, she decided that Jinx looked innocent enough, and how could she turn down a paying customer? She lowered her voice to Jinx’s volume. “I’m really not supposed to do this, but we have a bathroom in the back. It’s supposed to be just for employees, but I can let you use it just this once, okay?”
Relief flooded Jinx’s expression. “Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver.”
She cast one quick glance over her shoulder—yes, you were still stocking shelves at the far end—and followed Doris through the Employees Only door.
The back room smelled of cardboard and ink, crowded with half-unpacked boxes and stacks of inventory, as well as a few administrative things.
Just what Jinx was looking for.
“I have to go man the register,” Doris said as she pointed Jinx to the only other door in the space that must have been the bathroom. “I trust you’ll be able to find the way back on your own?”
“Yes,” Jinx assured her, flashing yet another grateful smile. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”
As Doris’s footsteps receded, guilt tugged at her for the deception. But only briefly. Because there it was: a bulletin board tacked above the employee clock-in screen. Schedules, neat little columns of full names and shifts.
Bingo.
She quickly snapped a picture of it and got out before she could be caught. She thanked Doris again, paid for the book she didn’t really care about, and fled into the street with her prize tucked neatly in her pocket.
It’s not weird, she chanted to herself as she walked home with brisk determination. It’s not.
After all, she wasn’t going to do anything wrong with this information. She wasn’t going to use it to hurt you. She just wanted to look you up. Scroll through your socials. Laugh at the awkward photos buried on your mom’s Facebook. Dig up cringey tweets from 2010. The YouTube comments you left when you were thirteen. Learn every little thing about you until she knew you better than you know yourself.
And then, once her thirst was quenched and her curiosity was satisfied, she could forget you. Right?
Right.
Not weird.
By the time she got home, she was practically trembling with anticipation. It took her less than two minutes to go down the list of names she’d photographed at the shop until she finally stumbled upon your profile.
Her heart skipped a beat as she took in your profile picture—a bright, casual selfie of you smiling with your cat. It had been posted several weeks ago to your Instagram with the caption, “Me and Ozzie😁🐈”
You posted often. Photodumps of selfies, city street aesthetics, stacks of books you’d read, clips of Ozzie chasing a laser and pawing at invisible enemies. Nothing out of the ordinary; nothing entirely too intimate, but Jinx still stared at the screen, entranced, a grin creeping up her face like she’d just unearthed a secret she wasn’t supposed to know.
“What are you doing?”
"AH!” Jinx’s yell sliced through the silence that had previously settled into her apartment. She turned to find her sister practically doubled over in laughter. “Damn you, Vi! How’d you even get in here?” Her cheeks burned as she slammed the lid of her laptop down, as if merely looking at someone’s Facebook profile was akin to viewing hardcore porn.
Vi held up a single gold key; the spare one Jinx had thrown under her mat in the hallway a few weeks ago after she’d lost her keys at a bar, stumbled home drunk, and had to sit outside the locked door like a sad stray all night.
“You really shouldn’t do this, Powder,” Vi scolded, tossing the spare to Jinx, who scowled and snatched the key out of the air. “Who knows what kind of creeps you’ll let in."
“Right now,” Jinx shot back, “the only creep in here is you. What are you doing here anyway?”
Vi shrugged. “Was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d stop by. Check on you.”
Jinx swept a hand around the apartment like a magician presenting a trick. “Fed myself, hair is washed, meds taken, still alive. Gold star for me. Great catching up.”
Vi’s mouth quirked into a humorless smile. She leaned against the counter, arms folded, eyes roaming the apartment like she was conducting some silent inspection.
“You’ve kept the place clean,” she commented, like she was relieved but still bracing herself.
Jinx bristled. “Yeah, what’d you expect? Chaos? Fire in the kitchen? Bodies on the floor?”
Vi didn’t smile at the joke, not fully. Just that same soft, watchful look Jinx hated. The look that said fragile when Jinx wanted to scream fine.
“It’s not that,” Vi murmured. “I just… worry, you know?”
Jinx clicked her tongue and glanced away, toward the window. “Well, you can cross me off your checklist. Alive and kicking. Mission accomplished."
“Powder.” Vi’s voice was gentle, but the name made Jinx’s jaw tighten. “I don’t have a hidden agenda. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable here. That this place feels… safe.”
Safe. The word itched under Jinx’s skin. This apartment wasn’t hers—not really. It was a hand-me-down from Caitlyn’s endless generosity. Even her job—some at-home graphic design gig—was a favor Vi had pulled. All of Jinx’s ‘successes’ were tethered to her sister, and she knew she should be grateful, but it felt less like independence and more like a favor she could never even begin to repay.
Not that Vi expected her to, but that wasn’t the point.
“I’m comfortable,” Jinx said, words coming too quick and sharp. To overcompensate, she settled into the couch, feigning coziness. “Super comfy. Like a queen in her castle.”
Ever the older sister, Vi could tell when Jinx wasn’t exactly telling the truth. Her eyes lingered, steady and searching, but Jinx refused to squirm.
“I’m glad,” Vi said finally.
She meant it. She always did. And that was almost worse than if she hadn’t.
Jinx forced a grin. “See? Nothing to worry about. You can go now.” She waved a hand. “Hero duty’s done.”
But Vi didn’t move. She just stood there a moment longer, watching her sister with that quiet, stubborn patience that made Jinx feel both loved and suffocated.
Jinx sighed, running a hand through her hair. “What do you want, Vi?”
Her voice wasn’t unkind, but she was growing exhausted of Vi’s near-constant fussing ever since Jinx moved in here.
Vi didn’t answer right away. She lingered, shifting her weight, eyes soft in a way Jinx hated. And then it all spilled out.
“I just…” Her voice faltered, then steadied. “I felt like everything was my fault. We used to be so close, and then I joined the Enforcers, and everything changed. I wasn’t around anymore. We stopped talking. And then you… got sick…” Her voice cracked, the same way it always did when she brushed against that unspoken shadow—Jinx’s time in the psych ward. She drew in a sharp breath, trying again. “I should’ve been there for you more. Maybe things wouldn’t have spun so far out of control. So now that I have a second chance, I just… I want you to know I’m here for you. And I want to make sure you’re okay.”
Jinx’s chest tightened.
“I’m okay,” she replied earnestly. She didn’t want to give her sister any reason to worry, especially since Vi probably had Caitlyn squabbling in her ear about how Jinx was unfit to be on her own. A risk; a liability. “I’ve got this nice place, I’ve got a good job…” She ran a hand over her face. “I’m even… seeing someone.”
Technically not a lie. She was seeing you. From a window across the street.
Vi’s brows lifted, surprise brightening her face.
“Oh.” It took her a beat to process, then her whole expression lit. “Oh! That’s so good!” She stepped forward and pulled Jinx into a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you, Pow-Pow. See? I knew this fresh start would be exactly what you needed.”
Jinx wrapped her arms around her sister and nodded against her shoulder, blinking fast as tears burned her eyes. “I think so too.”
But the words rang hollow. The truth sat heavy beneath them.
Vi had clawed her way out of the mud and shit that was the undercity. She had this shiny new life—an Enforcer badge, a wealthy fiancée, and the gigantic house that came with her.
And then there was Jinx. The one ghost Vi just couldn’t rid herself of, for better or worse. The stain that wouldn’t wash out.
Jinx wiped her tears, pulling away from her sister. “You should go. I’m sure you’re busy. Besides,” she slipped into the British accent she reserved for mocking Caitlyn, “can’t be late to evening tea with the missus.”
Vi rolled her eyes, smiling softly. “Fine. Just… promise that you’ll call if you need me, alright?”
The heaviness returned, sinking like a stone in Jinx’s chest. She never planned on needing Vi. Never anticipated adding to the never-ending load she’d already placed on her sister since the moment their parents died. But she nodded anyway, lying as smoothly as she breathed.
“I promise.”