e m p i r e.

Mason smiled at the mention of his daughter. He had talked to her on the phone every day that he had been gone, since it was really the first time he had been away from her for such an extended amount of time. The call every day wasn’t really necessary, but it was still hard for him to not worry since the last time he had tried to go overseas. “If you don’t mind taking her for another night,” he said as he moved toward the kitchen, exhausted. “I don’t want to disturb her after such an eventful day, though I don’t think she’ll see me as much of a disturbance.” He ran a hand through his hair as he worked on filling up a kettle and placing it on the stove. “Would you like something to drink?”, he asked as he nodded at the kettle. “We should probably talk payment.” Arms crossed as he leaned on the kitchen island and looked at her. “Thank you for being willing to watch after Adelaide on such short notice. I don’t know what I would have done, because there is no way I would want to involve her in my family. They have a tendency to, yah know, destroy people. What would you like money, food, an IOU? Anything short of my soul I can give you in return.”

Mia nodded in confirmation that she had zero qualms letting the girl stay another night. She'd figured, with his late arrival, that it would be the case, and it was really no additional burden. Besides, it was her nature to be of assistance wherever she could be. Mia lit up at the prospect of a cup of tea, something she'd never refuse. "Ooh, yes please!" she chirped, eyes wide, padding toward the kitchen as he continued.  She didn't know the details of Mason's familial plight, though she knew enough that him making the sudden voyage home was mildly alarming. Mia waved her hand dismissively. "No payment necessary, honestly. I'm glad to help, especially under unfortunate circumstances, and you're a decent enough guy that I'd expect you'd do the same. Even if you wouldn't..." She trailed off for a moment, shrugging simply before stating, "Adelaide's a neat kid. She tolerates me practicing without complaining, which on its own makes her fabulous in my book. She's welcome whenever".

Mason half expected her to follow him into his apartment, but she knew him all too well. It had been several hours  since he had left his family, but he still hadn’t shook off the feeling of dread the always lingered after seeing them. He sighed as she decided to approach, half relieved by her presence but also desperate to close his eyes and have a moment to recover from the week. If he hadn’t wanted her there, he wouldn’t have asked her to pick him up from the airport. “Is it possible to want you around, but also want to be alone?”, he asked as he met her path towards him, wrapping his arms around her waist when she got close enough. “It’s not easy to want to be alone when you’re here.” He stooped down to press a lingering kiss against her forehead, a smile floating across his lips when he pulled back. “I missed this–you.”     

Cleo melted into him as he held her close, eyes fluttering shut in bliss for a moment as his lips pressed against her forehead. "Getting attached, are we?" Cleo quipped with a small smirk. She joked, but she related wholly. It had only been a week, but in that stretch she'd frequently longed to be wrapped in his arms as she was now. With a content sigh, she snaked her arms over his shoulders, hands barely meeting behind his neck as she rested her head against him, the rhythmic thrumming of his heart grounding her. To not dig, discuss his time with his family and encourage to talk through things, was against her nature, but now was not the time for that. Not for him. "We can be alone together".

Mason cringed when she said the word–loved. It wasn’t so much the word that hurt him like a knife being shoved into his chest, but the fact that he had loved her since the day they met and he still loved her even as he was standing right there. He could understand that he was there to bandage so much more than wrong timing. Everything she had said was the same way he felt about her, and if she had done anything to jeopardize that he would be feeling the same. He sighed when she sat down on the other side of the couch, enough away from him that he wanted to reach out and pull her back. Each word she said had been buried under his skin like little needles. He needed to scratch them out to stop them from causing so much pain. The only way he could think of doing that it to be honest for once, stop pushing her away because of a past she had no involvement in.

“You, know–I don’t even know what to apologize for anymore,” he said, meeting her eyes. “I know one thing is that I’m not sorry I kissed you. I do regret that we haven’t shared more, because for the longest time I have wanted you–all of you. I let a piece of my past come to haunt me once more and I have tried so hard not to let it influence what we have, but it did. I don’t know how I let it get that much messed up.” He moved for the first time since he had been there and it felt like he was breaking away from roots that were growing out of the ground and swallowing him whole. “You want to know something?” he said, his knees coming into contact with the ground beneath him, he wanted to look into her eyes and not loom over her. “You have not been talking to a wall this whole time. I have seen you as a place I feel welcome and secure too. Why do you think I came all the way here?” He looked in her eyes, searching for any response to indicate that he’s not a total buffoon and they could fix this.

He knew is was selfish to just show up and expect he safe place to still be intact, but he wanted to come and figure out what to do to ensure that Cleo would feel safe with him again. He had let too many people women slip through his fingers like Mila, who was off building empires with another British man and Sophia, who he still occasionally accepted her invitations to see her Broadway premiers. They sought fame and fortune, a lifestyle he could not keep up with and didn’t particularly want anyway. Cleo was the same, since she had already been there and done that. They were the same in many aspects, fitting so perfectly together. He didn’t want to loose this, and the life they could build together–a life that he had always wanted. “Cleo, I loved you too and I want to keep loving you if that’s alright. I don’t want this to be where we stand.”

Cleo watched Mason intently as he spoke. This was it. This was the talk that needed to happen. This was important. She clung to each and every word, savoring the gravity they held as they poured from his mouth. For the longest time I have wanted you—all of you. Her stomach twisted with yearning at those particular words, her head turning slightly to obscure the flush she could feel falling upon her cheeks. She would be lying if she said there wasn't a small part of her, the part that didn't overthink, or think at all for that matter, that wanted to throw herself at him and forgive and forget every transgression that had led to the rift. For despite everything, as much as he wanted her, she wanted him. God did she want him. But it was time to talk, so her brain that often worked double-time stifled her shameless heart. She'd wait to hear what more he had to say before the defenses would be lowered, the walls crumbled at all.

She stared ahead slightly vacantly, too focused on his words to imbibe anything visual. The more he spoke, the further up the twist in her stomach worked itself, becoming a knot of despair and panic in her throat as she realized how preventable the quandary they found themselves in may have been. As he moved, Cleo's gaze affixed once again to Mason. She blinked a couple times in surprise as he lowered to the floor, their eyes now nearly level. Jesus. All that time she thought her pining unrequited, to now find out his feeling was mutual. This is wrong. This is all wrong. Cleo didn't know whether to laugh, burst into tears, or just lay down and give up. It was becoming apparent that, in each other, they saw an entire solar system worth of stars. The tragedy of it all? Neither of them had realized their thoughts matched the others, that they were two mirrored star systems. Was it too late now? Had they dimmed their own burning beyond repair? A pathetic sigh passed quietly through Cleo's lips. This isn't how it was supposed to be.

Her troubled expression softened slightly as Mason spoke his last words. Her hands trembled slightly, a residual effect of her now waning agitation. She steeled her resolve, focusing on calming her shaking and then on expressing herself properly. "Mason," she started, chewing her lip as she searched for the right words. Where to begin? She motioned for him to join her on the couch, shifting slightly so she faced him as he took his seat next to her, ensuring a proper distance remained between them, albeit a smaller gap than there had been thus far. "I want things to be better. I don't necessarily know what that entails quite yet, but I really do want things to be better than they are now". Things. It was a bit vague, she'd admit, but putting a definition on it all proved difficult. "I'm fully aware that I have my own demons and the onus is not all on you, but I do think there's a level of trust in you that I need rebuilt, and that may take a bit of time," Cleo explained. She fidgeted slightly, the query at the tip of her tongue surprising her considering the angst she'd felt over his arrival. "Do you think you could stay for a few days?" she asked, earnest in both expression and tone. Her eyes searched his as she awaited his answer. She wasn't certain why, but some time spent together seemed outside of the normality of New York felt right. Like she wanted a reminder of what they had once been.

“Excuse me,” Athena spoke as she sighed and placed her hands on her hips. How could she have forgotten the most important part of washing clothes? “I don’t suppose you have some detergent to spare.” She did not want to go all the way back up three floors, so this was the hopeful way she could avoid that. She moved the basket holding her towering pile of clothes, which was obstructing her view of the person from the other side. An apologetic smile crossed her face, fully realizing it was not every day a person gets asked for laundry detergent. 

Davy’s humming along to the music playing through her earbuds cut abruptly as she saw the laundry room door swing open, looking up to acknowledge the stranger for only a moment before returning to her task of separating her lights and darks. A barely distinguishable utterance from the other caused Davy to remove one of her earbuds, turning to face her with brows raised expectantly as she posed her question. “Oh,” Davy blinked. “Uh, yeah. Just give me a sec”. She quickly turned back to the washing machines ahead of her, adding the blue detergent to two machines in advance before passing the bottle to the stranger. “Have at it!”

“You can come in, I don’t bite,” Mason said as he took off his jacket and draped it across the back of his couch. He was just seconds returned from a nearly week long trip back home to see his father who had ended up in the hospital due to a heart attack. It had been an interesting venture, the first time his scattered family had been in a room together for several years. There had barely been any conversation, no tears or concern– just bated breath in a cold hospital room as everyone waited to see if a will was going to be read anytime soon. Of course, his father recovered fine. Mason didn’t doubt that would happen, since he knew the devil himself would have to drag his father to hell kicking and screaming. 

Mia would have knocked, but the door had left open. Instead, she hovered just outside silently, not wanting to startle Mason but fidgeting ever so slightly in hopes of catching his eye. When he did acknowledge her, she released a deep breath she didn’t know she’d been holding in. “Addi’s back at my place sleeping,” she began. It wasn’t that late, so Mia felt the need to explain herself. “I took her ice skating today... I think she wore herself out,” she detailed with a breathy laugh. Having the girl around had been fun. Addi was old enough now that watching after her wasn’t necessarily babysitting, so they’d managed to fill the week with activities they both enjoyed. Keeping Nadia’s influence at bay had been a task, but that was neither here nor there. “You can come get her, otherwise I’m more than happy to let her hang around until tomorrow”.

“You can come in, I don’t bite,” Mason said as he took off his jacket and draped it across the back of his couch. He was just seconds returned from a nearly week long trip back home to see his father who had ended up in the hospital due to a heart attack. It had been an interesting venture, the first time his scattered family had been in a room together for several years. There had barely been any conversation, no tears or concern– just bated breath in a cold hospital room as everyone waited to see if a will was going to be read anytime soon. Of course, his father recovered fine. Mason didn’t doubt that would happen, since he knew the devil himself would have to drag his father to hell kicking and screaming. 

Since meeting him at the airport, Cleo hadn’t said much to Mason. He didn’t go home frequently; it was never something he particularly enjoyed. Family was difficult for him, and Cleo knew the circumstances of those who should be closest to you being less than stellar all too well. She leaned against the doorframe, watching him reacquaint himself with his apartment, still wordless, unsure if she was to stay or give him further space. After the week he’d had, she couldn’t blame him if he wanted to remain solitary for a bit to clear his head. He must have sensed her hesitation, because as she prepared to back out and leave him to decompress, he spoke. Cleo pushed off from her spot in the doorway, walking his way. She wanted nothing more than to reach out to him, hold him close, and let him vent his burden away, but she thought better of it. “I didn’t know if you’d want me to hang around or if you’d want some time alone”.

Mason watched her hop up the small set of stairs, before suddenly turning to face him. He pressed his lips together, the slightest flicker of light in his eyes melting away. It was dumb of him to think she would respond to a semblance of their usual rhythm, no matter how small. “Fuck,” he muttered, looking away and closing his eyes. “I know, I’m sorry.” Was all he said of that, before watching her retreat once more. He climbed the steps himself as he watched her sit on a couch and pull herself into what looked to him like a ball of defence. He longed for the days he could insert himself next to her, around her, tangled up with her; lounging on his couch or her pull out bed, talking about anything and everything or nothing at all. It had been too long since they had last done that, a day he had remembered very vividly, before he fucked things up, still able to feel his lips against hers. 

He saw the expression on her face turn as he told her about everything that was going on with his daughter. He didn’t want her to feel sorry for him, to enter into a deeper conversation with her feeling like he was trying to gain sympathy to influence her to be easier on him. Maybe he was there partially hoping for a little comfort. He knew he may not get it, nor did he really deserve it from her at the moment. He just wanted her to know, and he already felt better having told her. He shrugged, moving to stand just behind the arm of the couch, his knuckles brushing the fabric as he looked down at her balled up form. “I’m not sure if there’s much more even I can do at this point, it’s all up to the court now.” 

Mason sighed as he looked around, not really focusing on or noticing anything. The action was a mental preparation for the inevitable. His eyes settled back on her as he opened his mouth to speak, daring to open a wound that had been barely patched up for months. He was not ready for it, but they had to talk about it. “I wanted to go after you – and I tried. I’m sorry you witnessed what you did.”

Cleo peered up at him through her lashes, amber eyes wide and expectant as he searched for his next words. Her gaze met his as he looked back to her, holding on as he finally mentioned the inevitable. When he did, she felt herself go cold, transported to that fated night and its effect on her. Cleo sighed, shutting her eyes. Just a few moments longer. A few more moments where the hurt was left unsaid. She'd been preparing what she would say the past year, and now that the time had come, her mind was blank. Just a few more moments to formulate a response. A few more moments to teeter on the edge before diving off the precipice head first into the unknown. "It's fine, Mason. It's not...it's not any of that," she eventually breathed, speaking slowly as to give herself more time to consider how she would proceed. So much to be said.

She pushed off from the couch, pacing away so there was a distance between them. Her hands trembled slightly - if one looked close enough, it would be apparent - as she ran her fingers through her hair, resting them there for a moment as she exhaled deliberately. Turning to face him, her entire presence crestfallen and dejected, Cleo spoke. "I was really fucking hung up on you, Mason. And that was okay, but then you kissed me and everything changed...everything changed, but nothing did". She hesitated, troubled eyes studying him frantically as she subconsciously picked at the skin along her thumbnail. "Everything would have been easier if we had...gone along under the guise of being just friends, but you had to kiss me. Just friends don't kiss each other, but after that you went along as if nothing had happened. And I tried to make something of it, but it just felt like I was talking to this wall, and I let myself be convinced that it really was one-sided. That I had done something wrong, that I'd misread things...but I'm the sucker that hung onto you and to us because things felt so right when I was with you, and I felt safe and wanted. I'm sure I'm not faultless in this, but I really did try. And then when it became clear it wasn't going anywhere, I tried to move on..." Cleo's brows pinched together as she puzzled through things, her thoughts verbalized as they came to her. The her eyes seared with tears she refused to shed, though they grew watery as she her next thoughts materialized and slowly ventured to her lips. Still, no tears fell. The skin on her thumb was raw, but she continued to fret about it aimlessly.

Cleo averted her gaze. A part of her couldn't bear to look at him when she spoke her next words. Another part didn't want him looking at her. "Mason, I loved you," her hushed voice wobbled as the past tense word hung in the air between them, sucking any spare oxygen from the room. "I finally came to terms with that, went to the one place I always felt welcomed and secure, and when I got there, I felt like an intruder. I was an intruder. That shook me to my core. It was bad timing on my part, but I was really needing refuge that night...someone I could trust to confide in. I think I sort of came to the realization that I let myself get too wrapped up in someone that couldn't reciprocate, and I really needed time away to get over it. To get over you." She wanted to ensure he understood her departure was about so much more than his intimacy with another. Exhaling, she had a moment of clarity. "Yeah, it hurt that you were fucking your ex, who could not be more opposite to me, who treats you like shit, when I had those feelings for you. And interrupting that was one of the more embarrassing instances I've suffered through. But, god...I didn't have a lot going for me in New York. For reasons I can't even begin to cover right now, assurance and security and a person or place I can feel those with are so immensely important to me. I had that going for me, and then I didn't." Cleo paused, glancing Mason's way once more as she slowly sunk to sit on the other end of the couch. She halted her picking, her attention falling to the bright red hue that had risen around her nail momentarily before returning to him. "I don't know if I'm more hurt by all that happened or upset that I let it get to a point that it affected me so much," she finished, leaning her cheek into her hand while resting her elbow on her knee. It was the truth, and perhaps that was what hurt most of all.

kai: Yeah I'm not working tonight

kai: Finally

kai: Let's drop by it

davy: woooo

davy: meet at the studio at...1?

davy is typing...

davy: you free to go out tonight?

Time seemed to be going rather slow for Nadia, as if every movement wasn’t aware of the twenty-four hour restraint of a day, and instead, seemed as if they held no servitude of the time constraint of life. But that was only the side effect of the poison tainted in her blood. The girl’s words reached her ears later than the speed of sound would have allowed, only confirming what Nadia already figured out. “I’m so sor – Okay.” Her apology was cut short when she quickly obliged to the girl’s demand. Nadia attempted to walk over to the couch but her journey was met with multiple challenges of not stumbling on the ground. Her ability to succeed without falling would determine her sobriety, and if successful, it would be enough to convince Nadia that she was sobering up, when in fact, she was only getting drunker by the minute. Finding support on the couch with a gentle touch, she sat down as if she was a dog listening to the command. Plump red lips pursed out as if being scolded while her hands rested on her lap. Widened eyes looked towards the kitchen, almost as if she was waiting for the next set of demands. “Are you going to call the cops on me? Please don’t. I have a whole future ahead of me. And student loans I need to pay off,” the drunk girl was rambling, and her state of stillness was immediately dismantled when Nadia laid down, caught in between the comfortable throws. She felt like she was on clouds, sinking into the comfort of softness and staring up at speckles of brightness. If she closed her eyes now, she could easily drift to sleep, but she was captivated by the beauty around her. Where am I again? Glossed eyes, brought out more by the reflections of the lights, darted back and forth to remind herself of what had happened in just the last two minutes. “Oh yeah.” 

Mia watched warily as the newcomer struggled to navigate to the couch. Perhaps she should have helped her over, though once she'd considered it, the other had found her way and seated herself. As the kettle began its shrill song, the blonde eyed her uninvited guest. It appeared she was more heavily intoxicated than Mia initially thought, she noted to herself as she poured the scalding water into the mug. If she gave it to her now, there was no dubiety she would take a drink before allowing it to steep or cool, so she lingered in the kitchen. "If I was going to call the cops on you, I wouldn't be making you tea. Don't give me a reason to call them, and we're good," Mia reasoned, partially amused and partially fretful that her rather benign visitor would grow hostile at any moment. That said, she likely couldn't do much damage in her current state. Moments passed before the tea reached palatability. She hadn't noticed the other lay down, and initially grew concerned that she had gone and died on her before she realized her glassy eyes were still moving. Setting the mug on the end table, Mia leaned over slightly so she was in the stranger's eye line. "Hi, um, sit up. Please," she chirped nervously. "I'm pretty sure aspirating isn't a fun way to go, and I'd rather not have that on my conscience". She perched cautiously at the opposite end of the couch, nodding toward the mug, icy eyes wide. "Drink".

The usage of the past tense verb regarding Ruth felt like someone had dropped a bag of stones on his chest. The reminder of the reality of life had quickly buried him. Dev drew his legs up towards his chest, propping his chin on his knees as a protective response. His teeth pulled his lips in as a barrier that didn’t allow his thoughts to be translated into verbal words. He went back and forth on whether that was a topic to be touched on. Did he still have jurisdiction to speak about Ruth to Abby? Would it prompt an outcome of emotions that he couldn’t currently handle within the small box they were stuck in? The barrier slowly released as he popped his lips out. He finally looked up, his eyes clouded with a tint of sadness, and if looked closer, it sunk into the darkness of despair. “Was? I’m so sorry to hear that. If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?” He knew she was a vital part of Abby’s life, and to lose that must have been upsetting in ways that Dev couldn’t know or understand. But maybe if things were elaborated, he could try to. And that was a fool’s doing. Why he continued to seek for crumbs of his past with Abby was unexplainable, especially when he vowed he wouldn’t put himself in a position to be that hurt again. 

Abby.  At the sound of those two syllables, the boy knew the heavy and numerous emotions that would engulf him. Just four letters in her name, but the power they bought when they reached his ears. And what was even more powerful were the words that gently fell from her lips. Every sound that came out graced his ears and he fell prey to them, hanging onto each syllable and anticipating the next. When he was met with those two words as her response, however, his jaw tightened. She didn’t owe him a longer response, the boy knew that. But he was hoping for more, so annoyance was inevitable when he first believed that was all he was getting fed. However, when she continued, his muscles relaxed and keenly listened. His dark eyes pulled away from her, settling on a spot in the corner to avoid making her uncomfortable. Guilt and regret swarm his empty stomach, filling the hunger he had earlier from the end of his work out. He felt heavy sitting there, wondering if he should have stayed and helped her out. To provide her a hand to help her from drowning, to give her a gasp of air even if it was for a brief second. At the conclusion of her answer, a smile crept onto his face, only noticeable if looked at closely. His head turned when she stopped, his cheek now pressed against his legs. “I’m glad to hear that. You seem like you’re doing well. I’m glad you’re here.” Not literally in the elevator, because if anything, he partly wished she wasn’t. It wouldn’t have put him in such a tug of war situation. “And you should. You should like the person you are. Don’t see why you wouldn’t.” He said too much. He knew that. And Dev was grateful that she asked how he was, as it took away from what had just slipped from his mouth.

Hums instead replaced the breathless space he had ignited prior as he was in deep thought of how to answer that question. How honest did he want to get? How much of his walls was he going to let down for her again? Was he going to provide entrance once again or her to bolt back in without even taking off her shoes, and taint each and every inch of his core? “I’m doing good,” was his simple answer. He paused, deciding on which extension to take from that. He took a deep breath, allowing that act to give him time as well as hoping that the intake would give him some answers and clarity. “I think? I don’t know.” Now he was gonna just ramble. All the tangled thoughts within his head that have been buried are now escaping through the spaces of his walls. “Not much has changed since. I’m working. I love my job which is great. It’s just…” His words trailed off as he looked up at the top of the elevator. “Something’s missing. Every day just seems the same, I guess.” The brutal truth that he was now noticing after given the opportunity to speak it out loud, and how dreadful it was to finally admit it.

Abby winced slightly when it became evident Dev had picked up on her words. She didn't know why that was her reaction; while it was one of the three great losses she would never truly be over, it was something she was typically comfortable discussing, and Dev deserved to know. He had, after all, known her too. Still, broaching the subject anew was never easy for her. Abby shook her head, indicating that she didn't mind elaborating. "It was a car accident. Years ago, just after, um..." she trailed off, leaving the topic of their relationship untouched, that specific heartbreak unspoken. Abby considered that time in her life. She often speculated how her trajectory in life would be altered had those three aforementioned tribulations been spaced out, for both better and worse. Turning her focus back to the present situation, she subconsciously ran her thumb along the thick scar that marred the underside of her wrist, keeping it turned down as she folded her hands. It was a steady reminder of her lowest point, and Ruth's passing had been a stepping stone along the way. The sudden loss of her most lasting support system had shattered her to her core. "Yeah," she breathed in conclusion.

As Dev spoke, Abby clung to every sentence, savoring the conversation she didn't deserve. It was tentative and fragile, but it nourished a piece of her soul she didn't realize was ravenous. The effect his proximity was having was undeniable to her; his words served to make that effect more apparent. She failed to stifle the soft, effortless smile she gave his response, eyes locking on his. She appreciated his words more than he would know. Despite her confident exterior, Abby often found herself desperate for validation. She would never admit it, but after all these years, Dev's reassurance still meant the most to her. Could she convey that with solely her expression? Gaze still matching his, the next words he uttered caused her smile to falter. Don't see why you wouldn't. For him of all people to say that. The one she'd hurt the most. She let out a humorless huff, certain he was being facetious, but his eyes told another story. Her brow pinched as she searched his expression, and when she realized perhaps he did mean it, her heart flapped wildly in its cage, aching to be let free.

The apprehension in Dev's answer chilled Abby. Until this moment, she didn't realize how fervently she wanted him to be doing well. The fact that he wasn't assured that he was fractured something deep inside her. She was certain the words he’d finished with would have knocked her over had she been standing. Abby knew the feeling he described all too well, though she had no room to complain; in her case, that emptiness was self-inflicted, not allowing anyone too close for fear of hurting them. It was a complex feeling, and Abby found herself unsure of how to proceed. "Dev," she said, hanging on to each letter as his name passed through her lips, tilting her head so she faced him. "Do you have anybody?" It was an odd query, but Abby, who was otherwise never lost for words, found no other way to verbalize her thought. It could be seen as an ex-lover inquiring as to whether he'd found another, or even as an acquaintance ensuring he had buddies to surround himself with, but she meant neither of those, and she hoped he'd understand that. What she was asking after was different. Someone he could bear his soul to, someone whose presence healed, someone who ignited his passion for the most mundane thing. It could take many forms: a friend, a mentor, a paramour...yes, what she asked for was different, and she realized perhaps far too personal. Suddenly, her heart trembled and palms grew slick, and she feared she'd pried too much. It was a question she likely didn't deserve an answer to. "I’m sorry, I..." she muttered quickly, averting her gaze and wishing she could shrink into the elevator walls.. She'd relinquished her right to see inside of him years ago. Why would he allow it now?

Gabriel chuckled when she opened the window, not meaning to have scared her, but her reaction was adorable. “And here I thought couples were supposed to be so bonded that they know when the other is around.” The corners of his lips tilted up into a slight smirk, mimicking her own. “No, the birds with the poor flight plan tend to end up in the pool up on the roof. I think I have a bird funeral to arrange every time I clean the pool out.” He smiled as if her were a content puppy dog when her finger brushed his forehead, and then she was gone. It didn’t take her long to reappear, allowing him barely enough time to snap out of the enamored daze she had caused him. He took the items from here, before lifting himself up to sit on the window sill next to where she leaned. Any normal person would be hesitant to dangle out a window several stories up, but Gabriel didn’t blink as if he did it every day. “Ah, that depends on if you consider having been out here for three hours as taking care of myself,” he said, diverting his eyes away from her in order to avoid her sure look of disapproval as he wiped his face with the dish towel.

A delicate grin fell upon Beth's expression. Though they had been together for years, something inside of her still fluttered whenever the other merely mentioned their relationship. It was an irrepressible reaction she'd initially found bothersome, but she'd grown to accept her giddiness around him. "We should talk to whoever's in charge of that and let them know it's broken for us," she countered, brows raised. She shifted wordlessly as he lifted himself up, their existence together a well rehearsed dance by now. Her brows pinched together as he spoke. His dedication was part of what had initially endeared Beth to him, but not dissimilar to hers, his passion occasionally led to foolhardiness. "Gabriel," she warned, her voice low as she poked her head out of the window, squinting while observing the beating afternoon sun. Sighing, she stepped away from the window, giving him space to shimmy in. "Come on. Take a break. I like you better alive, believe it or not".

Mason retracted his hand when she offered her brief reply. He thought he would be happy to see her, and he was, it had been far too long and he had barely realized just how gapping the past months have been without her until she opened the door, but his stomach doing somersaults was enough to drown out the bittersweetness of his sudden appearance. Desperation melted into solemness; he also thought she would have more to say to him, but really he didn’t deserve her two word utterance or really to be let into her house. He pressed his lips together as his arms fell, limp at his sides. He nodded once as she stepped aside to let him in. It took him a moment to make the actual move, thinking that she had a lapse in judgement and would revoke his invitation. As she stepped through the threshold, both standing slightly crowded under the doorframe. He looked down at her, face softening, longing to reach out and touch her, as he searched her eyes. Normally he could read them, but they were giving him no indication of what she was feeling.  

“It’s alright, I had food and a bottle of water on the plane,” he said as he stopped a few steps away from her in the halway. Really, he had only had a pack of peanuts on the plane, and he was almost regretting passing up her offer for food, but he wasn’t there to make himself at home. He looked around, hands brushing the fabric of his jeans, not sure where to go or what to do from where he stood. “All this time, you have owned this place and yet you choose to live in our apartment building. It’s no secret they’re not the fanciest apartments in the city,” he said with a half smile, eyes nearly lighting up as they did when he teased her, trying to break through the awkwardness and the heavy atmosphere to open a line of conversation that felt at least semi-normal. He knew they would have to talk about what really brought him, but he felt that was not the best place to start, even though they could not gone on like this with their small talk that made it sound as if they were two acquaintances. If he couldn’t bring himself to address the real elephant in the room, he could at least begin with the second reason why he was there. “Addi–um, it is being decided who is to receive custody of her. The final court date is in a few weeks.” He sighed as the corners of his lips wavered. “I’m not sure how much of a chance I have, but I won’t give her up without a fight.”

Cleo nodded in understanding and muttered something about him letting her know if he changed his mind. The tension only served to inflate itself; the dynamic between them had always been a free and easy one, and the difference in the current interchange was jarring. To walk on eggshells around someone she was once her most unfettered with devastated her. Had the bond they'd shared been mangled terminally? The inhibition and hesitancy between them at this moment felt insurmountable. Traipsing up the two stairs that separated the foyer from the living space, Cleo was stopped dead in her tracks by his words. Sleeping on a couch for years despite the fact that she could have afforded to rent the entire building was a situation born out of necessity. Necessity to get away from the west coast immediately, and after that a necessity to feel secure. He was attempting to lighten the mood, and what she was about to say wasn't may not have been fair to spring on him when that was the intention, but it was the truth. Turning on her heel to face him, the stairs barely putting her above his eye level, her voice remained unaffected and cool as she spoke. "There's...a lot of bad memories associated with my time in this place," she stated simply, glancing around before pivoting again and settling herself on the corner of the couch, knees hugged close to her. A guarded display, caginess not an unfamiliar state for Cleo.

Mason looked vulnerable, Cleo noted. As if he was one crack in his foundation from plummeting into nothing but rubble on the ground. Both of them so scared of getting hurt, and both responding to that fear so differently. She watched him carefully as he battled with how to proceed. The ball was in his court; she was sure he knew that as much as she did. How long the game itself would perpetuate was undetermined. Perhaps that explained his apparent uncertainty of where to start, how to shoot. Cleo was unsure what she'd expected, but the remark he finally articulated was not it. Her heart plummeted. Nothing was as important to Mason as his daughter. Relinquishing time with her would be devastating to him. Empathy and melancholy gave way to confusion. Had he come all this way merely to tell her that despite their year without contact? Was he hoping for solace? As much as she wanted to provide that, she wasn't sure she could. Not with their connection being so fragile and tumultuous. "Mason," she sighed, her tone tender. It had been so long since she'd spoken that name. It felt both familiar and foreign on her tongue. A taboo uttered covertly. "How can I help?" Ever the altruist, help was always something Cleo could offer sincerely. This was no different.

Jasmine knew that Mia had been sitting with her, because she was the one who invited Mia to join her at the bar. While the intention was for Mia to distract her for a little while, help take her mind off the deadline and let new ideas permeate. She did not realize that when Mia had appeared and sat down, she remained in her writer’s vortex. “Hmm, you know that’s a good idea,” she said as she lifted up the paper, thinking that she could combine everything she had not marked out into a handful of paragraphs. “Maybe I can write short essays on say…five inconveniences and combine them into an article.” Suddenly, the idea snapped into place, there it was her inspiration right in her grasp. “I think I have a paper I wrote back in college to draw from. You are a lifesaver.” She put down the paper, offering a big, thankful grin to her friend. “I think we need to celebrate with some drinks. I promise, I didn’t text you to come sit and stare.”  

Mia nodded thoughtfully. "Little vignettes all put together," she concurred, gesturing with the napkin in hand before setting it aside. Her dazed demeanor brightened when Jasmine mentioned getting drinks. Though her friend had been dialed in on her writing, Mia had been acutely aware of the bartender's growing vexation with their presence as each moment they didn't order anything passed. She'd been growing sheepish, but she preferred not drinking alone. With a wave of her hand, she flagged down the bartender and ordered her usual vodka cranberry. Mia's platinum locks flew in front of her face as she snapped her head to face Jasmine, a stern look on her face as she held up a warning finger. "You can't let me get sloppy this time," she instructed before giggling. It was no secret that she was a lightweight, and given how long the pair had known one another, Jasmine had a fair bit of experience with Mia's low tolerance. Sipping the red beverage, she looked expectantly at her friend. "Don't let me talk to any boys," she added, wrinkling her nose playfully.

Nadia wasn’t sure how she got there, but what matters is that she got there in the end. Her next obstacle to get over was getting her apartment door open, but no matter how hard she twisted her key or stabbed it into the designated input, the key simply wouldn’t fit into the lock. Slurred curses slipped past her lips as she soon gave up, her knuckles pressing harshly against the door that was in fact not her apartment door, but her judgement was too tainted by alcohol to realize that. “Davy, please help!” she shouted for her roommate, her words of distress echoing down the hallway. “The lock is bro –” Her cry for help got cut short as the door opened, and it wasn’t Davy on the other end. Glossy eyes narrowed as she tried to gain clarity of the situation. “You’re not Davy. Who are you and why are you in my apartment?” A heavy gasp was released, eyes widened as an absurd thought consumed her. “No way Davy threw a party and didn’t tell me.” Without waiting for a response, the drunk girl pushed the person aside to stumble into the apartment to fill it with her presence. It took her a few seconds, but after a quick glance in the place, she immediately realized her mistake. A guilty smile graced her demeanor as giggles erupted from her inebriated curved lips. “Oops. This isn’t my apartment,” she stated the obvious as she reluctantly turned around to greet the apartment’s occupant again. 

Mournful notes filled Mia's apartment as she put bow to string and made her violin sing. Swaying softly as she lost herself in the music, the blonde was unaware of the struggle at her door, until the pounding and shouting became audible above the lament of her instrument. She jumped, startled, and laggardly returned her piece to its case before cautiously tiptoeing to her door, long legs poking from under an oversized tie-dye tee. She was ready for bed, intending to turn in after one last practice session. The night, it seemed, had other plans. In a foolhardy move her streetwise friends would chide her for, she opened the door without checking the peephole and with nothing arming her. Before the scene in front of her could register, the stranger was shoving past her and into the depths of her dimmed, ethereal apartment, leaving Mia wide-eyed in her wake. Her concerned gaze followed the stranger; it was clear she was intoxicated, and the slurred speech, uncoordinated movement, and giggles led her to believe the degree to which she was drunk was quite. "Yeah, uh, it's mine," she confirmed, brows pinched together as she deliberated her course. "Sit," Mia eventually ordered softly, pointing to her blanket laden couch as her nurturing instinct took over, "And try not to puke on the throws". As her uninvited guest situated herself, she pattered to her kitchen, self-consciously tugging the hem over her shirt while she put a kettle on the stove, willing the tee longer while she retrieved the loose-leaf from her cupboard.

Kai was briefly taken back when Cleo wrapped around his body, but as an immediate response to that sense of touch, his arms naturally scarfed around her small frame. He lightly rested his head on hers, feeling as if a weight had lifted off briefly. He didn’t realize how much he needed that hug until then, but somewhere, he knew that she probably needed it more. Even though he towered over her, Kai felt small standing there, expecting that his hug would tell Cleo about his current state more than his words can. He had no valid reason to be upset or angry with Athena, and Kai was aware of it. If anything, he was more upset and angry at himself for getting bothered over it. His ex owed him nothing, and a clear line of where they stood was never established, so why did seeing her with another guy get him so worked up? His teeth ground against themselves out of agitation, attempting to bite away the truth that he’s too afraid to admit to himself. He closed his eyes tightly shut for a few seconds, finding solace of the darkness in the back of his eyelids and in the tensed silence as they stood there embraced within one another. How dreadful and pathetic they both looked, completely unraveled by the hands of another person. 

“Don’t apologize. I should’ve checked in beforehand instead of just walking in, assuming you were there,” he confessed as he pulled away. His own problems temporarily drifted away as he took another close look at Cleo, assessing the details of her facade. He could tell she was trying to stay strong, and in respect of that, he wouldn’t press further for the reason behind it, not until she was ready to speak about it. His eyes followed to where she nodded to, settling his gaze on his new roommate. “He is, isn’t he? He was a foster cat too.” As Cleo situated herself on the couch, Kai decided to be a decent host and headed to the kitchen to get her water without asking. Returning with a cold glass of water and his first aid kit, he handed the glass over. The highlights on the TV no longer had his attention as it quickly lost its appeal to him. Narrowed eyes were firmly placed on the girl next to him as if he was trying to read her mind. Instead, his hand flew out, palm up as his fingers motioned towards him. “Let me see your hand.” His desire of distorting reality earlier through alcohol as a response to avoid his problems was suddenly dismantled, now relying on sobriety to help with the issues in front of him.

Cleo huffed a bitter laugh at Kai's words. She was unsure of his specific quandary, but she had an inkling as she was aware Athena'd had company the night before. Though too cavalier to admit it, she and Kai shared a profound and fond connection, and though he was too proud to concede, it was unmistakable to Cleo that he was entirely captivated by her roommate. The coincidence that they shared a near identical predicament on the same day would have struck her as humorous were she not still reeling, humiliation and hurt seeping from her pores and coating her entire constitution.  "Seems we both struggle with that," she muttered softly, one corner of her mouth lifting in a crestfallen smile. Cleo preferred to conceal the unsavory aspects of her existence from others, making them no one's problem but hers, but perhaps pulling back the curtain a bit wouldn't be so burdensome in this instance. No, Kai clearly had no desire to discuss their plight, evidenced by the bestrewn bottles.

Cleo pouted as she relinquished her grip on the bloodied dish towel and placed her open hand in Kai's, a crimson puddle forming in the absence of pressure. She peered at it pensively, noting the similarities between the physical wound and the emotional. Still fresh, entirely numb. Despite their glaring conspicuousness, both injuries were suppressed by the shock she felt.  However, both deep cuts, she was sure she would be wracked with pain as that jolt faded. Gaze leaving her palm and scanning the surroundings once more, she clenched her fingers in a fist to obstruct Kai's access. "How drunk are you, Doctor Boy?" she queried, an air of suspicion clinging to her tone, though the suspicion was dropped immediately and she unfurled her fingers when she decided he couldn't do much more damage than was already done. The more she studied the gash, the more tangible the burgeoning ache in her belly became, demanding to be recognized. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of silence, she drew in a shaky breath and admitted, "I just feel stupid".

What had hurt Dev the most from their breakup wasn’t the disappointment that saturated him, feeling as if he wasn’t good enough for her. It was having to go from talking to someone everyday to no longer speaking to them, and how suddenly, the one person that meant the entire world to him was now a stranger. And standing there, the waves of that pain came crashing on him once again, swallowing him up as he tried to swim away, but each breath he attempted to take was stolen away as he continued drowning. Their current conversation only confirmed what he already knew, what he had feared when he had lost her – things would never be the same again. For better or for worse, he wasn’t sure. Each syllable no longer held the same weight they did, lacking emotion and the warmth that he had longed for. 

Still, her response had prompted a small smile to etch on his features. He tried to possess control over his reactions, to display no emotions, to show her that he moved on, that he was no longer holding onto what they were. However, that was overpowered by the contentment of hearing that his past lover was engaging in something she enjoyed, how it all connected together. Even if a part of his heart held some anger towards her still, though he wouldn’t admit it, the anger was overshadowed with his yearning of wanting her to be happy. “A Ruth for others, huh? That’s good.” He wanted to ask more about it, to hear how she got there. A part of him wanted to sit down, hoping that the elevator would take a bit longer to get fixed as she talked about what she had been up to since they broke up. But Dev did his best to release his grip on the past. It would only falter the illusion he was putting on that he was over her, over what they were. Additional words to his response were cut short as his pride wrapped its fingers around his throat, cutting away at his desire to indulge himself into her life again. He thought he was fully healed, that his heart no longer ached when he heard her name, but now with her only a few feet away from him, he was pulled back into that abyss that he had spent almost a year climbing out of. 

Dev got closer to the elevator buttons, repeatedly pressing the red one again as each press was a silent scream for help of release. The longer he stayed there, the longer he would fall into the bottomless pit. The clicks of his finger against the button consumed the silence within the elevator, followed by noiseless curses of how he ended up in the same apartment building as the one person who had hurt him, and now stuck in an elevator. His finger regretfully and tragically fell from the button, admitting its defeat as Dev fell with it. In the unsettling depth of his eyes as he settled them on her is the color of the earth after violent rains, the firmament animals hesitate to explore again. It glistened in the warmth of flames that were progressively caving in and swallowing up years of what he worked through, to seek for the light that Abby once gave him, knowing that they would be met with a furious storm again. “How are you?” The words effortlessly fell from his lips, structured in a tone where that question meant more than they normally would if asked by someone else.

Abby's heart was a caged bird whose wings had atrophied after years of being tied down and clipped. The moment she caught the small smile he gave in response to her, though, those crippled wings stretched and fluttered. She chewed her cheek and averted her gaze, suppressing any reaction. Abby knew it was a dangerous game she was playing; her heart was a wild and capricious creature, and leaving it in fetters was, perhaps, for the best. She hummed a gentle affirmation. "I try, at least. No one will ever be as incredible as she was". Was. As far as she knew, Dev wasn't aware of Ruth's transition from is to was. In the span of mere months, Abby had lost her three most vital support systems, with the man next to her being the one that led the pack. She shut her eyes briefly, focusing on quelling the mournful song her heart had broken into. Its flutter had left it weak, and overpowering it proved a feasible task. A fractured but tame heart, she had decided long ago, was preferable to the alternative.

Eyeing Dev as his finger continued its assault on the button, Abby felt herself diminish with every click, the momentary uptick in conversation and mood displaced by his silent plea for rescue from her, from the situation. Admittedly, she wouldn't mind being freed, but his resistance to accept that his cries were unheard, his discomfort with her presence, sent a pang through her. The dichotomy between what they had once been and what they were now was almost too much to bear, and that rift and the years apart that caused it hung in the air, an unspoken cloud of history and future and a shift from lovers to enemies to strangers fogging up the small box they were trapped in and choking out any progress. As Dev crumbled, bested, Abby prepared herself to speak and dissipate the smog, but she instead found herself captured in his dark gaze. Oh, how she used to lose herself in those eyes, and oh, how she was doing so now. Intense yet gentle, complex and enigmatic yet something she could never lose the ability to read...not unlike Dev himself. Her hand fumbled in her lap, yearning to follow instinct and reach out to him but knowing that would be a grave error. He spoke, shining a spotlight on her, and Abby could feel herself shrink again, her damaged heart tripping over itself as the concern in his tone hit her.

How was she? It was not as simple as small talk between acquaintances; Abby recognized that in Dev's tone. It was a question she answered in earnest in weekly sessions, so why was it so difficult to formulate an appropriate response? Perhaps it was the tension that still wafted in the air. The distance that had been so suddenly wedged between them those years ago. The last time such an inquiry had been posed between them, the discussion had ended in outrage and devastation. So much had happened since that Abby could hardly contemplate where to begin. She averted her gaze briefly, choosing her words with care. "Good. Fine," she nodded, cautiously dipping her toe in the waters to test them before continuing. "I'm actually doing really well, mostly." She spoke slowly, tentatively wading forward. "Things were really fucking rough for a bit, and I still have shit times where I feel like I'm going to drown, but that's par for the course." She halted as she felt the current tugging at her. Too far. Too deep. Don't make him uncomfortable. Her head tipped back against the wall and she stared into the fluorescent elevator lights as she pondered her next move. "I find myself liking the person I am a bit more every day," she breathed with a shrug, plunging into the deep. Turning her gaze back to Dev, blinking rapidly while her eyes adjusted. "How are you?" Her sincere tone matched his, and the confines that kept her heart complacent loosened ever so slightly.