TICK, TICK, BOOM

"yes, but... you ain't see me complainin' about it, do ya?" rahi has a tendency to be difficult whenever he's out of his comfort zone. everything is boring and uncomfortable unless it's about his work. javi knows this, but he also knows that it is not his job to deal with that anymore.

he smiles, "look around. count how many boring old black suits and ties you see. that's how many shots we starts out with. then, we watch for anyone tripping on the carpet. anyone doing an awkward pose. anyone embarrassingly high. wardrobe malfunction. anything, really."

You ain't see me complainin' about it, do ya? A laugh then, and a shake of the head. "So I'm difficult?" It'd be true, anyway. He is.

Then—

Look around.

Rahi does. How many boring old black suits and ties you see. That's how many shots we starts out with. "You know you don't have to get me drunk, right?" Javi goes on with the rules. "Fine. If it's a game, then there's a winner. How do we know who wins?"

"no one's forcing you to be here." it's said with a smile, one that doesn't quite reach his eyes. then, there's a switch, and he's seemingly filled with more enthusiasm. "wanna get stupid drunk and forget about all these cameras? we could play a game..."

Right there, a pause. Their eyes meet in that honest way they often do, and so much is so quickly understood. "No one's forcing me to be here," Rahi smiles, "the same way no one's forcing you to be here." Which is to say: they aren't hand-cuffed to the red carpet, yet not entirely here out of their own volition. They're both in on the joke, however — which is how Rahi likes it best. "You know I can't say no to 'stupid drunk'." He angles his head to the side, then. "What game?"

but he's not a part of them anymore. the less he knows, the better. "they've been cooped up for a long time now. a little outing's the least I could do for them, right? call it a team-building exercise." the smile he gives rahi is a fake one, and it only melts into something else when he finally looks at him. "there ain't nothing to berate you for... so, where's your arm candy?"

There ain't nothing to berate you for. There is plenty, and Rahi knows as much. Avoids it, but the truth remains.

"My husband is—" He shrugs. "This has always been his space, not mine. Even if I was invited before knowing him, it always felt very..." Rahi laughs. "You know I always hated even just wearing a suit and tie. This is that, tenfold." An inch forward. "...Fame was never something I wanted."

heath asked the tailor to leave the room, sitting down in one of the empty armchairs, right across from the other, eyes fixed on him, like he's finally seeing him without the history, without the benefit of the doubt, and whatever he finds there doesn't sit right "are we actually friends, rahi?" he asked. there's no anger in his tone, just certainty, after all, in his mind, the answer was already pretty clear "cause seems to me ya ain't even been payin' enough attention to my life to know what the hell ya're talkin' 'bout" admitted

"anais? the one ya also weren't sure when i told ya 'bout her?" he adds "we ended in october. thin ' went bad after the syndicate auction. months 'fore my new relationship. don't rewrite that either" a beat "ya remember what ya did then? nothin'. ya didn't check in, didn't ask, didn't show up. but now ya got opinions 'bout how we should've worked things through?" his head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing "i've been public with savannah since december. four months, consistent, no gaps. we've shown up places together, been in the damn media together more times than ican count. i've also seen ya talkin' to her at that halloween party - ya know, that one where ya dressed up as me? - if ya don't know who she is, that ain't even ignorance, man. that's a choice"

his gaze sharpens, something colder settling in "and that's the part that gets me" he continues, tone cutting clean "ya wanna stand here 'n question my life, call it rushed, act like i'm movin' reckless…but ya told me the day ya met easton ya knew he was the one and i didn't sit there questionin' it when y'all got married damn near right after. didn't make ya explain yerself and yer relationship. but me? i get engaged and suddenly it's a problem. suddenly life ain't that simple?"

Its very concept isn't jarring — Heath bringing it up, is. They had been closer in the past; when their lives and social circles overlapped more often than they do now.

"I don't care if you've been public with someone, Heath. I care if you've been private. You haven't privately talked to me about her, therefore, she doesn't exist whenever I think about you. If what I have access to is only what everyone else knows, then there's a problem."

Then, the bombshell. "That Savannah?" He feels drunk; dizzy. "The one that could literally be your daughter? Heath, come on. You have to be joking."

The jabs at his own personal life come unexpected, yet he's sure Heath had sat on them long enough — why else would such remarks be so quick to rise to the surface?

"I didn't disappear, Heath. I just had two sons — babies, newborns, — they're turning one only now. And unlike you, I'm doing everything to be around for their growing up. And I have a job. And unlike yours, it actually makes an impact on the world. So I'm sorry I don't have as much free time to be scrolling Instagram to piece together tidbits about which popstar you're fucking — but truth is, I don't. But you have my address. You have ways to be in contact with me that aren't cryptic social media posts. But instead, you're turning all this into some theatrical thing when it doesn't need to be."

heath goes still for a second - actually still, like the words didn't land right the first time. then his head turns, slow, sharp, eyes narrowing at rahi, trying to decide if he's joking or just completely out of the loop "man, where the hell ya been?" he mutters, almost incredulous, a short breath leaving his nose, somewhere between laugh and disbelief. he shifts out of the tailor's hands without thinking, attention fully locked now "if ya had a car, knew damn well it was broken, and sold it...ya goin' back and buy it again?" heath asks, tone almost condescending. he doesn't wait for an answer, doesn't need one - just gives a small, knowing nod like the point already landed

Then comes the metaphor, and he's dizzy. "I don't know," Rahi says only to be polite. He had gone back to Javi more times than anyone should have allowed him to; but people aren't objects, like cars. Very few, broken beyond repair. "I don't think it's that simple."

"...Who's Savannah?" He only vaguely knows of one, but — no, their paths would never cross. "...It wasn't a circus." Rahi's almost offended at that. "Everyone was used to us. We had been dating for a while before getting engaged, then getting married—"

Beat, as he muses longer. "The civil part is the one I don't get, though. I'd think the Murads would want a big thing, invite the whole city."

location: private atelier ( manhattan )

the tape slides around heath's chest, snug but not tight, the tailor's fingers precise in that almost surgical way that comes with charging obscene amounts for fabric. chalk kisses the dark wool draped over his shoulders, marking adjustments before the suit even exists. heath watches himself in the mirror, chin tipped, jaw set, already picking apart flaws no one else would notice. behind him, rahi is sprawled in a velvet chair, one ankle over his knee, studying him with the kind of honesty most people are too polite - or too afraid - to offer

Being in The Atlas Room was cause for the best of her looks and turning heads was the goal. Mission accomplished. Another thing she was used to, besides having eyes on her, was the very random though interesting tidbits and facts about space from Rahi. She almost never retained majority of the information he gave out but it was fascinating to hear about nonetheless. "Oh, Rahi, the things you know about the moon alone could win you a prize on a game show."

Well. They best not talk about that, now.

She let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head slightly. “You really just compared this whole thing....to a chemical explosion.” Her tone wasn’t mocking though, if anything it carried true warmth. She leaned back in her chair, one leg crossing over the other as she studied him for a moment. “But you’re not wrong,” she admitted. “Pressure builds. People ignore the warning signs. And then one day something ignites and everyone acts surprised.”

“For years I kept thinking if I just worked harder, if I kept my head down, if I made myself indispensable, eventually they’d have to take me seriously.” She said this a little quieter than before. “But that’s the lie they sell you when you’re the only one in the room who looks like you.”

Zara glanced back up at him with a shrug. “You know what the worst part is?” she asked. “It’s not even always malicious. Half the time they don’t even realize they’re doing it. They think they’re being fair. They think they’re progressive.” A small scoff came then before she shook her head “But the promotions still go to the same people. The same types of voices get heard.”

But it was when he said he trusted her, that her expression shifted entirely, something more vulnerable passing through it. “That’s all I really needed,” she said. “Not approval. Just… someone who gets why it matters.”

Zara turned to look at him again, her glass raised up to his, wanting to clink them together as she spoke. “And for the record,” Zara added, a playful glint returning to her gaze, “if my life does turn into a full-scale chemical explosion, I expect the resident expert on oxidation reactions to help contain the blast. Or at least write a very impressive report about it afterward.”

The good, the bad, and everything in between.

Pressure builds. People ignore the warning signs. And then one day something ignites and everyone acts surprised.

In this moment, he watches her with an expression that's nothing short of awe. No wonder he'd become so protective; Zara's very existence so precious, it ranked higher than any comet sighting.

"I mean, I know about that." They're both saying the quiet part out loud, at the very same time. "Being the only one in the room that looks like this, I mean. The only reason the media made such a fuss out of me was because I was the first, in NASA's history. But before I was celebrated for it," — which still felt strange, somehow — "I was working thrice as hard, fighting against every possible stereotype. The mountains we climb look like rocky roads to them."

Then, a heavy nod. It feels as though his head will sink right down to the ground.

"...I get why it matters. I just can't fight that fight anymore. But if you can—" He laughs. "Trying to stop you would be the stupidest thing anyone's ever done."

Rahi does clink his glass against hers, but there's a pause to it. That what if that haunts. "...Don't do that to me." He says, smiling, but that smile tells the tale of a thousand worries. "If it happens, I'll do my best to fix it." Loaded breath. "But. Just. Try not to, please. You're my sister. My kids' aunt. I can't look at you scientifically."

"...I understand the elements that make it into what it is." The way his brain works, science always comes into play. "Like how most explosions happen through multi-molecular reduction-oxidation reactions. I understand that those explosions happen when multi-component fuels and oxidizers undergo rapid, simultaneous electron transfer, releasing massive amounts of energy and generating high pressure gas in a very short timeframe. I understand that it creates a chain reaction, and them— I mean, boom."

Rahi studies her for a moment longer. "...I understand how it works. But I have never been caught in an explosion, or been burned in one." Beat. "But I know it's an uphill battle. I know everything is."

Don't you think? He nods. "I do. I mean, you know I do. Once upon a time, I joined them too."

His words had her glancing over at him, mid sip before she shrugged and looked at him, her sharpened gaze on her brother. "What are they asking? If I'm regretting my choice? Or if I'm safe? The answer...would depend on what they're asking about, don't you think?"

"what face?" damn him for reading him like an open book. and listen. lev's always been a good friend. he loves the kid. maybe it's because he has a hard time telling what's real and what's only in his head when he thinks about lev. javi sighs, and shakes his head. "I don't know. I guess." you did something wrong. he can't stand you. "does he? why would he?" he mutters to himself, "am I...?" you're doing it again. "sorry."

he concentrates on the room they enter instead. organized chaos. then he looks up at the sky-light. there it is. "ah... it's like stepping into your brain."

"You made a face," Rahi offers with a laugh. This isn't serious, it says. We're just joking around. "Lev told me how much he missed you last time I talked to him, that's all. He doesn't like anyone, but he loves you."

So only the latter half is true — so what. His lying is smooth, and not entirely unfounded. Surely if he had asked Lev about missing Javi, he would say as such.

Anyway.

"...Yeah, I guess it is." Rahi finds himself agreeing. "It's fun to play around, but I don't think most people would want to live here." The workshop. His brain. Same difference.

at the mention of lev, javi can feel the air around him get more awkward. maybe it's just him that feels it. it usually is just him feeling or hearing or seeing things, anyway. all the other would see is javi growing slightly uncomfortable. "nope!" he answers quickly, then his lips press into a thin line, smiling.

he glances to the left, and then to the right, old habits he won't ever beat, then follows rahi through the door. "so, what are you working on lately?"

There’s a shift in the air around them, but Rahi can’t quite put his finger on it — let alone access a name to it. Javi’s issue (if it could even be called that) was with him, not his friend; if anything, Lev had been championing for the man through not only the easiest, but the hardest of times. Give him another fucking chance, spoken always by their shared, weed-happy pal. He’s fucking cool. That can’t be fucking bought. 

“What was that face?” Rahi laughs. “Is everything alright between you guys?” 

He opens the door and leads Javi through. There’s a flight of stairs before they reach the space — just the living room, bigger than any apartment he’d lived in before. “I mean, the real question is what I’m not working on.” The space tells the tale of many projects started, in varying stages of progress. “Look at that.” Rahi points to the ceiling; a sky-light at the centre of it. “It’s what sold me on this place.”