* MAD / woman ˖

when he steps closer her body reacts before she can think better of it. her gaze draws upward, lingering on his features like he's the best thing she's seen all night, the first thing that feels real. for a beat, she allows herself to stare. then, her hand, still resting against his shoulder, presses just faintly as if grounding herself there. ariya's lips part in a laugh at his assessment, quiet but genuine, shoulders shaking with the sound. "weird is generous," she teases, eyes glinting as she tips her head at him, "you don't even know the half of it. trust me, three drinks in they get even worse." she lets out another little huff of amusement, though there's no missing the exasperation threaded through it. if she manages to successfully leave all she's overheard alone for the rest of the night, she won't complain. finally she sighs but it's lighter than before like he's already untangling some of the tension she carried outside with her. her hand lingers where it rests against him, sliding just slightly like she's debating whether to pull back or not. instead, her gaze softens, one brow lifting as her smile turns sly. "think you'd risk letting me into one of those nice cars of yours?" she asks, voice light and teasing but with just enough weight beneath it to give the words more meaning, "or do i not make the cut for your preferred clientele?"

the way his hand settles at the back of her neck, firm but impossibly gentle, roots her into place where she stands. the chaos inside her doesn't vanish but it quiets, the storm momentarily tethered by his touch. the roar becomes a hum, if only for a moment, the darkness fractured by the faintest glimpse of light. for the first time in days, she feels grounded in the present, instead of haunted by the past. he is her lighthouse and she is stumbling through waters that would have drowned her without him saving her from being pulled under. i would never be mad, ari. she exhales and the sound that comes along with it speaks volumes of the weight he's just lifted off her shoulders. her breath fans over the fabric of his shirt as she squeezes her eyes shut harder, fighting against the tears that hover stubbornly at the edge. she doesn't know if what threatens to spill over is grief or relief — perhaps both — but the distinction hardly matters. she shakes her head faintly at his next set of words. gently. barely. like she's afraid if she moves too much his hand might slip away. and she's not ready for that. not yet. instead she reaches for him, snaking her arms around his waist, pressing herself closer, burrowing into him as if proximity alone might hold her together. her face shifts just enough to nestle into the crook of his neck, where the steady warmth of him makes the rest of the world feel further away. "just... give me a minute," she says when she finds her voice again, just barely a breaking murmur against his skin, "please." it's not that she necessarily believes she deserves the reprieve he provides. if anything, the guilt is still clawing at her ribs, insisting she's earned it. but she can't help indulging. not when her chest feels so unbearably tight. not when all she's wanted since that night in the park was to collapse into his arms. not when he knew to come, even after she swore she wouldn't let herself rely on him. she sniffles, the sound small and fragile as her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt like she's afraid he might vanish if she doesn't hold on tight enough. her voice is quiet when it finally returns, almost swallowed by the space between them. "i'm glad you're here," she whispers and this time she doesn't fight the break in her tone as she admits it out loud, "i really wanted to see you."

she hears him say her name and for a second she thinks it's enough to undo her entirely. there's something steady and something familiar in the sound of it, almost like the company inside hadn't worn her name out and she was hearing it for the first time all night. it nearly pulls the air right out of her lungs. maybe it's the tension of the last hours finally dissipating. maybe it's just him. his compliment lands somewhere she doesn't want to touch and her gaze locks on his with equal parts ease and intensity. "you always did have a way with words," she says lightly, the words laced with humor. she does a little spin even, showing off the low back and throwing him a glance over her shoulder. "you like it?" she's quick to face him again, lips curved into a smile. "thank you." she steps a little closer at his question, a sigh falling from her lips as her hand instinctively reaches for him. it settles on his shoulder, smoothing over a spot like she's trying to iron out a crease in his shirt and not just looking for an excuse to hold on to him. "the night was..." she hums thoughtfully, following the movement of her fingers before she meets his eyes again, "too long. questionable company. even more questionable talking points." she exhales, some of the tension she's been carrying slipping loose now that she's finally standing in front of him. "what about you? how did you end up here?"

she releases a shaky breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, the sound small in the quiet between them. the tension in her shoulders loosens just a fraction at his nod, at the follow-up questions that don't come. he's letting her keep her secrets, gracious as ever, at least for now, and some of the anxiety wound tight in her stomach eases because of it. but the guilt stays, heavy and unyielding, gnawing at her insides like punishment she knows she deserves. her eyes flutter shut, not to avoid him this time but to surrender to the relief of not being forced to explain what she can't yet put into words. when she leans into his touch, it's slight, tentative, as though she's testing whether it's safe to allow herself to lean on him, if she can do so without placing the burden she carries onto him as well. her free hand lifts almost unconsciously, mirroring the earlier motion, fingers curling lightly around his wrist where it rests against her cheek. the uneven texture of her other palm against his skin says what her lips don't and confirm what he's already noted aloud. there's more. "i'm sorry." the words are quiet but unwavering, soft enough they could disappear into the space between them if he weren't so close. when her lashes lift, her gaze catches his, like she needs him to see the truth there, to prove she means it, so he’ll believe it even if she can't give him the rest. she nods in answer to his question about the cuts, though the confirmation does not come out verbally. she doesn't move his hands away. she keeps them there, grounding herself in their steadiness, before leaning forward until her forehead comes to rest lightly against his shoulder. the closeness makes her voice come out even softer, muffled but certain. "i didn't want you to be mad at me." the confession is fragile, laced with remorse, but it carries something else too. exhaustion, maybe, from holding so much alone for so long. it's not an excuse, she knows as much. she shouldn't have lied to him. but it is the honest reasoning he's looking for. a beat passes before she adds, even quieter, "didn't want to make you worry, either." her fingers tighten just faintly around his wrist, the smallest reflex, like she's bracing herself for him to tell her she's failed at both anyway.

for a moment, she almost folds under the weight of it — his hand on her chin, the brush of his thumb, the way his voice dips lower without losing its gentleness. it's too much. too grounding. too conrad. her eyes well up immediately. she manages to blink the tears away without letting them fall for the second time since he's entered her apartment. ariya forces a small breath around the lump in her throat, gaze steadying on his like she's willing herself not to falter, yet still not succeeding. because there's a flash. a faint, betraying glimmer in her gaze that speaks to the storm of it all: the ache sitting in her rib cage as her heartbeat spikes, the spiral of guilt threading through her veins. "you make it sound so easy," she murmurs, quieter than she intends. her hand lifts instinctively to catch his wrist, holding him there without really meaning to. if it hadn't been practically reflex, she might have worried that he'd notice the uneven texture of her scraped palm. but alas, she can't seem to think straight when he's this close to her, demanding answers. it's yet another slip up to add to the count. "there's…" but she can't seem to finish. there's what? too much to say. too much to explain. none of it willing to make its way across her lips. "i'm okay," she therefore settles on instead. this lie isn't so much meant to convince him, as it is aimed at convincing herself. "you don't need to worry, okay? i'm here. i'm fine. a few scratches won't kill me." a few. another tally on the list. her voice wavers just slightly, enough to betray her, no matter how practiced her restraint. "conrad," she adds after a moment, softer, almost pleading now. she can't lie to him but the truth weighs on her chest like a ticking bomb ready to explode, threatening to do damage if she allows herself to share. it's too much. too soon. too risky. she can't hand it over, clutching at the invisible weight to keep from it spilling onto him. "can't you just... can't you let it go? just this once?"

the moment she sees him smiling at her, something inside her shifts, like tension breaking under its own weight. relief hits first, fast and staggering, then a flood of everything else: the exhaustion, the fear, the guilt still curdling at the pit of her stomach. her grip tightens on the doorknob without meaning to and the action stings her palms, causing her to let go instinctively. for a second she can't speak, can't move, can only blink too quickly to stop anything from spilling over. it's stupid, she thinks, how one familiar face can make her feel like crying. but it's him and for some reason, that matters more than she wants to admit. it feels like she's frozen for ages but it can't be more than a long heartbeat. when she finally gathers as much composure as she can muster, she gestures for him to come inside and averts her gaze. if she looks at him for any longer, the emotions in her chest might choose to combust. it's much too hard to turn him away when he's standing right there. any excuse dies at the tip of her tongue. she barely managed to lie to him through text. lying to his face is impossible. "as much as i'd love that, i don't think i should be giving my neighbors front row seats," she says at last, her voice a little rough around the edges like she's still catching up to the moment. the comment is teasing but as she moves aside, she can't quite meet his eyes yet. it's that damn guilt clawing at her, worsened by the sweetness in his features and his actions. "you shouldn't have gone through the trouble." she forces a smile, hoping it passes as halfway relaxed at least. "what's next? adding nurse to your list of talents? i thought chef was already plenty impressive. people are going to think i'm working you too hard."

a breath catches in her throat upon the intrusion of her personal space. he lingers there like a cloud of smoke, light yet heavy all the same, leaving her lungs and heart stuttering as they're fighting the invisible vapor that might just suffocate her if she let it. his touch burns with a familiarity that he's long lost his claim to. it's different — they're different — but nostalgia has always been a companion cruel enough to send fleeting reminders, flashes of memories, to the forefront of her mind. perhaps under different circumstances that's what she would have gotten stuck on but the fear coiling in her chest isn't due to the disappearing inches of space between them. not tonight. it's the violent reminder of the device leon had bestowed upon her, well hidden in the jewelry by her ear — the opposite side of where his fingers choose to taunt her, by nothing less than some stroke of luck. she'd been confident in the untraceable nature, the placement, the silky locks serving as another shield. but with teo this close, her heart trashes wildly with the impending danger of being found out all the same. she'll let him believe it's all him. better he thinks each shuddering breath and shiver down her spine is solely his doing. the prominent thought commanding her instincts is just one. she needs to play this smart. if she flinches too much, turns her head too quickly, lets her eyes flicker with too much alarm... teo’s observant in his own way. ariya can’t risk it. she needs to throw him off. something nearly impossible to do. he'd always seemed unshakable but she'd be damned if she didn't try. she'd stepped too close to a lingering flame, it only served her right that now she was stuck playing with fire. "flirting with your cousin? is that what you think i did?" she asks when she finds her voice. a sigh falls from her lips that lands somewhere between teasing and disappointed, hand moving in time with the sound as it lifts and reaches out for him. the motion freezes just for the fraction of a second, like there’s an invisible line left to shatter, before she breaks it all the same because she must and allows it to settle against his cheek. "teo, teo," she hums, thumb brushing softly past his skin, "what am i supposed to do with you?" she holds his gaze, willing herself not to look away even though her throat is threatening to go dry. "all this time to study..." the gentle motion stills against his cheek, just to pat it twice. "...and you still don't know me at all." she doesn't withdraw her touch right away, making it a point to brush her fingertips past his jaw and down his neck as they travel, allowing them to settle against his chest. she's determined to give him something to focus on. something to draw his attention away from where his own hands linger. her eyes finally follow the movement of her touch, grateful to free herself from that piercing gaze just for a moment, as she watches herself toy with a button on his shirt. her voice is low, expression pensive when she speaks. "i'd tell you to brush up on your homework but i suppose the subject no longer calls for it." her gaze flicks back up then, as if trying to capture his reaction to her words. her fingers flatten against the fabric of his suit and finally — she pushes. him back, herself away. gentle but firm. slipping further from his reach, pulling herself back out of his orbit, creating treasured space that has clean air flooding back into her lungs as she instinctively draws a deep breath. but her eyes don't look away. not quite yet. "i like the suit, by the way." her lips curve when she speaks. the smile is heavy, loaded. she takes another step back, inching herself closer to the muffled sound of music from inside. "you look nice."

there's a sort of routine to the way he fills up the bowls for the cats that betrays his former claims about his lack of ownership over them and her eyes sparkle with the appropriate amusement at the quiet observation. the furball in her lap stretches, a quiet meow heard in passing before scout departs from his resting place atop ariya and the couch to collect his dinner. she follows suit then, rising from her former position to approach the table he'd set for them. "not even a little charred?" she hums, soft and teasing, though there's an evident warmth bleeding through, "we might have to start discussing your payment soon. typically only the first taste test is free. correct, chef?" she slides into the seat as if she'd claimed it a million times before and, almost out of instinct, she finds herself pulling the chair just a few inches closer to where conrad had put down his own plate. it happens before she can think better of it, like her body is responding to a lingering gravitational pull. she inspects the tacos, lips curving into a gentle smile. when was the last time someone had cooked for her? not at a restaurant or fancy event but in the comfort of their own home without a major occasion. it had been a while, certainly. it had been a while since she had done more than half-heartedly throw something quick together, too. it takes her exactly one bite to release a noise of approval, eyes finding conrad's as she nods eagerly. "you're hired. name your price, whatever it is." her eyes remain locked on him when he speaks as she hangs on every word he says. the sentiment was familiar. everybody needs somebody. it was a belief she'd echoed before and yet, somewhere along the way, the reality of it seemed to have gotten caught in the crossfire of the position she'd placed herself in. the list of people she trusted had dwindled significantly since her brother's passing, the list of ones she relied on had become even shorter. she liked to think of herself as reliable but when was the last time she'd actually let herself lean on somebody? today, she realizes, gaze studying conrad's features like she's trying to catalogue details into memory. as long as it's the right person. ariya places the taco back on its plate once he finishes speaking, wiping her hands clean before reaching one out towards him, pinky extended in a silent request for him to loop his own through it, much like something she would have done when they were much younger. she meets those bright blue eyes, her gaze not shying away as she speaks. "pinky promise to be your person if you promise return the favor?"

she doesn't flinch when he turns to face her. doesn't look away either. the balcony air feels as though it has turned taut as a wire. and still, she holds his gaze. steady and full of searching, expression unreadablen in the half-light. at his last remark something flickers across her expression. it's not hurt, not quite surprise, though there's traces. it's something else. something that seems to spur her on enough for her to draw closer. her body moves as if its been waiting for the opening, smooth and quick, minimizing some of the distance between them. "careful," she says, voice pitched just low enough to make it intimate. she stops still an arms length away, as though there's an invisible line she knows not too cross. too dangerous. like her subconscious is instinctively warning her not to get too close for comfort. "if someone overheard you talking like that, they might think you sound jealous." the words are almost teasing, though there's some bite behind them as she holds his gaze, studying those all too familiar eyes up close. her lips curve, pulling into a smile that's sharp. she wants to swallow the next words but they escape her before she can think better of it. "maybe my type is simply someone who doesn't keep me guessing where i stand."

she eyes him for a beat, without fully turning to glance at him. like she can't risk letting him read her full expression. like she's dissecting his words. like she's trying to peel back each individual layer of his reaction until she's left with answers she should have stopped digging for a long time ago. eight years to be exact. "andrea and i have already made our introductions, you know." she says then, the pause that follows delicate and measured to let the words sink in. "he's easier to talk to than i expected from someone sharing your last name. no immediate sharp edges. we even exchanged numbers." her gaze flicks to teodósio, a quiet challenge in her eyes. "you could have spared him the trouble of introducing himself. but then again, you never liked making things easier for anyone, did you?" she doesn't say it cruelly. in fact, it sounds almost like she means it. like she understands — or assumes, at least — that making things hard is one of the only ways he knows how to keep things safe.