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"Do you ever think about the future?"
The both of them are sprawled on opposite ends of the couch, legs just barely touching, close enough for Ophelia to feel the occasional drunk tremor of Jules' body.
Ophelia turns, and the light-hearted, teasing reply on her lips dies at the sight of Jules' face. There's something wistful in the way she stares at ceiling, watching something Ophelia can't see, sadness clinging to her in that uniquely characteristic way it tends to do.
"Uh," Ophelia finally stutters, beautifully coherent as always, and Jules eyes waver down, snapping out of her daydream.
"I'm serious," Yeah, no kidding. "What do you think we'll be doing in, like, five years?"
Ophelia stares, wondering what they're talking about. "Getting our degrees, I guess. I'd probably still be doing joints in mall corners, you'd still be playing house with the other Barbies, we'd still be kicking ass in the dark."
Jules looks away, insecurity flaring in the way her eyebrows furrow, and inadvertent panic flutters in Ophelia's stomach as she starts running her mouth.
"I mean, what else would we be doing? It's not like anyone's going anywhere, and if the record store's been running for this long then it sure as hell can manage another ten years, tops. Harris is probably going to law school, though, but not for, like, forever obviously. And so far, we're not dead yet, so we can definitely survive being Batman for a while longer and-"
"What about us?"
"...Dude, us is kind of what I'm trying to say here."
"Do you think we'll still," Jules hesitates, before lowering her voice, "be friends?" And then there's suddenly an overwhelming amount of uncertainty on her face that Ophelia kind of just wants to hug her out for.
She swallows, reining in the urge to scream I FUCKING LOVE YOU, ACCEPT IT! because, yeesh, boundaries.
Also, Straight-as-a-pole-Jules would definitely not appreciate that.
She kind of knows where this is coming from, to be honest. Tyler and Jules had seemed inseparable, like the kind of couple someone wouldn't bother to ask for consent from before snapping away a picture, caption some stupid poe quote next to #relationshipgoals, which inevitably leads to baby boomer Jules waking her up at the asscrack of dawn to request her guidance over clicking the damn flag button. Ophelia herself is a little upset over the break-up, because Tyler had been a good guy, like a legitimately good person who could have looked after Jules better than anyone else. Aside from Ophelia herself, of course... Though, to be fair, Jules can pretty much walk on her own feet now. But. Well. The sentiment had still been reassuring.
"I don't think I'll be getting tired of you anytime soon," Ophelia decides to say, tipping her head to a side, attempting to seem as casual as she can. "You know what they say, right? There's nothing that builds friendships like shared trauma does, and we've been through a decent enough amount of shit for it to account."
And then Jules smiles, and the way she does it, god, it's fucking precious. Ophelia's heart stutters, and her stomach pools with heat and nervous energy, and her ears burn until she faintly worries that they're visibly smoking. It's kind of beautiful, and Ophelia's never understood art but this might just be it, the way the crappy artificial light catches onto Jules' upturned cheeks, emphasizes the crinkle beneath her eyes. Rebellious strands of blonde hair stray into her face as she grins widely, all teeth and happiness.
The genuine emotion that fills Ophelia up comes with a warning.