He sat, slowly, and there seemed to be a loud heartbeat in every moment of silence, though Jack could not confirm whether it was hers or his causing all the noise. Something was in the air, some sort of tension, that was setting her ill at ease. Jack just wanted to go to bed, or to watch a stupid movie, or cuddle up with her pets and her family and eat ice cream and pretend there was no death, or battles that took life and forged rivalries, or politics that took every ounce of humanity in a person and drained them. Jack wanted to have a peaceful morning, but this tension was promising her otherwise.
She reached out to her mug and took a sip, trying to steady her nerves the best she could, hoping nothing would show. She could not hide how tired she was, but she could easily hide everything else. And she was not hiding from Albus, but she was hiding the part of herself she was ashamed to show anyone. The Jack full of fear, and doubt, and anxiety. She, herself, did not want to see that Jack, and she definitely did not want anyone to be a firsthand witness to that person either. The Firewhiskey did what it could to boost the appearance of confidence and collectedness, but that other Jack was still there, lurking beneath the surface, traitorously desiring to burst out.
She kept her cool though, and Albus began talking. She had wondered what had spurred Albus to begin opening up to her, but she assumed it had begun because she had opened up to him. She had opened up to him because he was a familiar face. The family of someone like family - that made him family, sort of. But he had gone further. He hadn't opened up, he had spilled out. He had spilled the sort of secrets people didn't spill, the secrets people died trying to protect. Jack had told so few of Vito, and had only done so out of obligation of friendship. So perhaps that was why Albus had told her of Dark Magic, and of murder. Because, by that point, they were friends. And friends told each other the parts of themselves that was too hard to tell anyone else.
But all the other things. The little things. The date. The salads. The summerhouse. The guitar. None of that was obligated by friendship, or by openness. They were too small to be obligations that must be fulfilled, and too small for Jack to have considered until Albus made her realize how big they really were. She swallowed and looked down, to see that Albus had seized her hand as he had taken her down his train of thought, trying to get her to see what was probably clearer to anyone else who had ever been in this situation. But, Jack didn't know if she wanted to hear it. Because when people began considering each other as more than just friends, everything changed, and everything went terrible. They turned their back on you when they heard you secrets. People stole them from you. And it always ended in a good bye you never wanted to say.
As Jack looked at Albus, she could not say for sure why she didn't want him to say what he was about to say. Partly because she didn't know how she would respond. She had never considered anyone after Nemo, and she didn't want to see what would happen if she did. But more than that, she didn't want to say good bye to Albus. Because, no matter her response, there was too much of a chance of her losing a friend she had grown to really care for. And that risk was too much for her right now. It had always been her greatest strength and her greatest weakness - the girl without friends had nothing and no one to lose. But give her someone to lose, and she would do anything to prevent it.
"Albus," Jack said, shaking her head, her expression cautious as her mind begged him to leave it there.