It was funny to see just how obliviously gay Mel really was, but the relationship forming there was still getting a little old, at least for Trinity.

“I should’ve never helped either of them,” she said recently in a rant to Whitaker, pacing in the kitchen of their apartment. “I should’ve let them both end up on the street or some shit.”

“You don’t mean that and you know it,” he pointed out calmly, barely dodging the orange she plucked off the counter and chucked at him.

Of course Mel would be watching videos that were basically just your arms and hands. By this point, Trinity wouldn’t be surprised if the girl walked into work one day wearing a shirt with your face printed on it.

Every day… every. damn. day. You did this; you did that; you said this really funny thing; you did something cool. You, you, you, you, you.

If Mel had a pull string attached to her back triggering all this, Trinity would’ve cut and cauterized it the first day Mel came skipping in with nothing to say if it didn’t involve you.

She acted like Santos wasn’t the one who literally introduced the two of you. Did Mel really think she didn’t know your sense of humor? Or the things you were relaxed about versus the things that bothered you?

There was no romantic inclination toward you; you weren’t joking when you had said that the two of you would kill each other if you dated. But the constant listening to you two separately talking about each other, you two doing things without her, or you forgetting to check back in with her about something because “Oh, sorry, I was with Mel"—doing whatever the fuck. All of that shit? It pissed her off. And… she felt a little jealous even if she wouldn’t admit that to herself.

She used to have that, excluding the blatantly-obvious-to-everyone-but-you-two gay shit you and Mel had going on. Trinity lived with you once, even if it meant a longer drive to John Hopkins, because she was so dangerously depressed that you basically forced her to move in. She had that once. The attentiveness and the easy ability to adapt as roommates… She had even been on the receiving end of those little acts of service and quality time every day.

Now Mel had it and unknowingly rubbed it in her face, while all she had was Huckleberry constantly fucking off to that farmer’s widow.

So, despite herself and the growth she was trying so hard for, it was easier to take her frustrations out on the blonde.

“You don’t want to become known as the one who put Mel in mel-practice.”

Santos could admit she had some regret walking away from that one. She knew Mel was a fucking train wreck and obnoxiously sensitive. Oh, and she also knew it would’ve pissed you off if you heard her say it. She supposed that was part of her wishing she had kept her mouth shut but also part of why it held some appeal in the first place. She was tired and struggling more than enjoying her recent advancement from intern to R2. She could be a little bitter, right? At this point, she figured Mel could get over it if she ever even got the sting in the first place.

…But then the shift never ceased beating the ever-living crap out of her, and Mel was, of course, such a patient and warm senior resident. Why wouldn't she be, right? She just gets everything right all the time. Must be nice.

Trinity knew deep down that she was snapping at the only people who truly cared about her, or at least showed her some kindness, but the impulse was too deeply embedded and instinctual. It wasn't until she was worn down to the point of complete surrender that she reached the end of the shift, watching Mel nearly have a panic attack over one last joke, and she realized she regretted it.

Mel was nothing but nice to her. She was so sweet all the time that it could be grating, and Trinity could’ve sworn she had something up her sleeve those first few months, but no. That was just Mel. She took the verbal shoves and still offered her support an hour later. It was infuriating, really.

Santos was tired and lonely, and she was scared to let herself be completely alone at her apartment. So she decided: Fuck it.

Mel still owed her a proper night out, whether you were here or not.

ʚɞ

Mel was distantly aware of the alcohol hitting her right around when it was her and Santos' turn to get on stage. Now even turning her head a certain way made the world blur or tilt. Despite that, by the time a little voice in the back of her mind said, “I think I’m drunk,” she was loose enough to not really care that her Shirley Temples were made dirty. She still kept taking the drinks Dr. Santos pushed over to her, lying that they were more Sprite or ginger ale, all while her blonde hair was still down and getting in her face because her hair elastic was basically thrown across state lines. Again, just drunk enough to not care about that.

“Can… um,” Mel trailed off, losing her hold on her own question one word in. She closed her eyes briefly as she gathered the energy back. “Can I ask you something…?”

“No,” Santos said before continuing to suck on a lime and then rolled her eyes when she saw Mel’s dejected expression. “What? Just ask already.”

“Do you know what being flustered means?” Mel asked with a sleepy blink, swiping her hands at her face to get her hair out of the way.

“Duh. How stupid do you think I am?”

“Not stupid…”

“Whatever. Why? ‘S that how you’re feeling over the deposition or something?” Trinity sighed out the question, grabbing some peanuts from the bowl set in front of them. She was done with the whole deposition topic. It’s impossible to work in the ED and not get sucked into some bullshit, money-grab lawsuit at some point or another.

“I suppose…” Mel moved in her seat to get more comfortable until she remembered there was no back to her chair. She had to quickly adjust, now leaning into the bar as a shot of adrenaline cleared her mind slightly.

“Um… I suppose it could be applied to that, but that’s more intense and… bad." Mel shook her head. That was apparently yet another movement that did not go well with drinking.

“You know being like… um… feeling like that but not bad…?”

“What?” Trinity asked in a sigh, with her face all scrunched up in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Flustered but not bad. Like… like when you’re talking to someone and you feel all…”

“Flustered?”

"Yeah." Mel nodded.

Despite her personal irritations over the two of you becoming practically attached at the hip, Trin was nosy and had been itching to stir this particular pot.

“Like…” she started casually, staring up at the ceiling as if really having to think this one through. “You get all warm and your stomach gets all twisted up…?”

“Yeah!” Mel nodded, eyebrows shot up, amazed by Santos’ ability to describe the feeling so accurately. She clumsily fixed her glasses that she just now realized were a little low on her nose. “Yes. That.”

“Usually horny,” Trinity shrugged, eating some more peanuts and sighing quietly through her nose. “‘m usually really horny for that person if I feel like that.”

Mel had her hands gently cradled again rather than holding her drink, staring at nothing even if her gaze was locked on the bar. She tilted her head, unsure how to process that no matter how long the gears turned in her mind.

“Like,” Santos started, mouth full before she finished chewing to keep talking. Mel was looking at her, still wide-eyed. “Like, sexually frustrated… wanna bump uglies—”

“Yep!” Mel cut her off sharply, her face burning from more than the alcohol, especially with the movement Santos acted out. “That’s… um… got it…”

Trin watched Mel start to press her hands together now, twisting them while she stared at the bartop. The poor woman had no idea how to process this realization, and Santos couldn’t help but laugh. It was a few snickers at first, and then Mel looked at her with those panicked eyes, and she started cackling. She couldn’t stop it, even when she had spent the little energy she had left and had to rest her forehead down on her folded arms while the remaining laughter still huffed out of her.

ʚɞ

While Mel never offered any real details, you knew something was off this week, and you had wanted to get back to her as soon as possible.

So, after hours on a plane, one layover, a time change, and a man beside you who Mel definitely would’ve wanted to get a sleep study and likely a CPAP machine, you were back in Pittsburgh. Your first steps outside of the airport alone were already a fantastic omen for how today would go. The weather would clearly be miserable because there were still signs of recent rainfall on the ground and yet the air was dense with sticky humidity at five in the morning.

All you wanted was to step out of the Uber, drag yourself upstairs to shower, and collapse into bed with the AC on high. Then, you were walking into the apartment, and it hadn't been the quiet darkness you expected. Instead, you were immediately thrown off by the table being littered with fast food bags and the bathroom door thrown wide open with light spilling out. The further you walked in, you saw blankets sprawled around the couch and floor. You kicked your shoes off, about to call for Mel to see if she was up when you heard vomiting.

You abandoned your luggage by the door and went straight to the bathroom.

"Mel? Mel, what's..." the question died on your tongue once you got to the doorway.

Mel was leaning over the toilet with her arms resting on the seat and head dipped down, spitting the last of the bile from her mouth. Her hair was barely even held back, tied up with what looked like one of her bras. You knew the guilty party in all of this, including the makeshift-bra-hair-elastic, because she was sitting on the floor behind Mel. Trin had her head resting back against the shower, eyes closed and legs splayed out.

"What..." you tried again, stepping over the dirty laundry that had been dumped out of the hamper during Trinity’s scavenging.

You were far too exhausted to know how to react right now.

Was this upsetting? Or was it just that it surprised and confused you when you were already tired? And you were upset that you had to process something? Maybe the fact that there was something potentially urgent to handle when you were already this tired?

Maybe it was funny. You were really hoping it was only funny.

Trinity barely opened her eyes to see you.

"Woo, you're back..." she welcomed you in the most lackluster and broken voice that told you she had spent the night screaming.

Mel lurched again, coughing up whatever was left in her stomach.

“What happened?” you asked, still looking at them while you opened the medicine cabinet to get one of Mel’s elastics so you could properly gather the poor girl’s hair into a ponytail. A shiver ran through Mel as her stomach clenched and she coughed. “We did karaoke,” Mel said in a wavering voice that was still thick with nausea and the saliva that was drooling from her mouth until she remembered to spit. She let out a shuddering breath after, feeling you gather her hair to tie it up as gently as possible. “And we like super crossed off number fifteen,” Trinity laughed. “Like super, super…” "Mel, how much did you drink?” you interrupted whatever number of "super"s Trin was going for, earning you a weak "I 'unno" from the blonde.

“You don’t know?” you asked, and she shook her head with a little "mm-mm."

"I may or may not have enhanced her Sprite a tiny bit," Trinity said in a silly voice, nudging Mel's calf with her foot like it was an inside joke. Mel tried to let out a laugh, but it was more of a breath before she was overwhelmed by all the aching in her body.

"Just a lil'," Trinity reiterated, holding up her hand with her index finger and thumb nearly pressed together.

Your response was delayed because you were busy trying to sort out if your immediate, physical response to this information was appropriate or if you were overtired. Jetlagged or not, you couldn't help the sinking feeling in your stomach or the way your heart started to race or how desperately you were fighting to keep yourself in your body.

“What?” “Yeah, otherwise she’d never let herself—” “Because she doesn’t want to?” you interrupted. Trinity sobered slightly from the tone your voice hit.

"God, chill out..." she muttered as she sat herself up more. "It's not that deep…" “You spiked her fucking drinks, Trinity? Are you serious?” She looked at you, stunned, faltering as she tried to find the words. She couldn’t remember the last time she did something stupid that you wouldn’t rationalize for her. You were those friends. You did dumb stuff, and you texted or called to double-check that you didn’t overreact or make a mistake. Then, you reassured each other, pointing out anything that validated whatever bullshit you had just pulled. Sure, it probably wasn't the healthiest behavior to enable, but it was a fun dynamic to have. “I just… thought…” she tried, blinking rapidly as if they were constant attempts to reset her brain. She looked at Mel. “She had fun.”

“I did… I had fun,” Mel added to reassure you, but seeing the state she was in wasn’t exactly enough to soothe that burning feeling you were desperately trying to keep in check. Fights—real fights—between you and Trinity were not for the faint of heart. “Did you even want to drink alcohol, Mel?”

You saw a slight shake of her head, but you couldn’t tell if maybe she was only wavering from the nausea. “Are you okay with this?” You asked then, and she shuddered before spitting up what must’ve been purely stomach acid at this point. “It was just to have some fun, it was a shitty day, and… I don’t know, it was a really shitty day,” Trinity tried to reason, although her gaze kept anxiously going to Mel now. What was it that they emphasize at work again? Impact over intent? “Please just… get out of the bathroom,” you said as gently as you could while you gathered a towel and a few face cloths from the closet across the hall. You turned back to the bathroom by the time she was reacting. “Dude, you‘ve got to be joking,” Trinity scoffed, arms splayed out. You shook your head and pressed your lips together, avoiding looking at her. “God, this is so…” she huffed as she got off the bathroom floor. “Just get out of the fucking bathroom,” your voice raised despite your attempts to not snap at her. You stepped aside to give her more room in the doorway.

“You can sleep in the living room or my room or get something to eat. I don’t fucking care, just—” “Yeah, I got it,” Trinity bit back at you, going out of her way to shove past you on her way out of the bathroom. You sighed out your frustration and closed the door, making yourself focus solely on Mel for now. “Are you okay…?” you whispered. She looked as miserable as her stomach felt, so you went over to her to gently rub her back. “Um… I'm fine,” she got out, shaking her head as she added, "Don't be mad at Dr. Santos. I had fun…” “Why don’t we get you cleaned up okay?” you murmured instead of answering that. “You think you can stand…?” She nodded, but you still wound up supporting most of her weight to help her sit on the edge of the tub. She was still a little out of it from the alcohol, but she had also been on the floor for so long that her legs were basically jello. You kept an eye on her, making sure she wasn’t going to fall back into the tub or go forward into the tile floor. You nudged the toilet lid down with your foot and flushed it before going to the sink to wet one of the face cloths.

“I threw up,” she croaked weakly, once you had knelt down in front of her. You gently wiped at her face with the damp cloth. “I can tell…” you murmured.

“‘N I had a really bad day…” “What happened?” “I’m a bad doctor, and Becca is having sex before me,” she said in such a plain little mumble. Your lips parted to say something, but you had nothing to offer. You had been expecting to hear about drunk drivers and firework-related accidents. How many of these moments were you going to be hit with this morning? “I…” you trailed off, trying to find where to start. “You’re not a bad—” “Really…” she swallowed like she was refraining from throwing up again, distress evident in her face. “…Really great sex, apparently.” Mel was sinking in on herself, head back with her shoulders bunched up, and she painfully stared off at the wall. “She’s had a boyfriend for 6 months. She was living without me for, I don’t know… a few months…? And someone already wanted her,” she continued, turning her attention back to you.

“I…I’ve always been the one who was…and I still haven’t…” “Is that what you want?” you asked quietly. “A boyfriend? Sex?” You weren’t expecting the kick you got to your heart from asking it, and you really should’ve. Mel thought, still looking all gloomy. “I dunno,” she whispered, sniffing, and you gently smoothed the damp cloth over one side of her face again, then the other. “I think I just, um…. I think it would be nice for someone to love me, even if they don’t have to.”

“I love you, Mel,” you said before you could override the stupidity of it, even if your tone had been reassuring rather than reflective of a deep confession. This is fine. This can still be platonic, like when you say it to Trinity. She blinked at you as you fell into awkward laughter, rubbing at your forehead with the back of your wrist.

“Like… I care a lot about you. Obviously, I mean we’ve been living together for—” “Three months and four days,” she contributed casually. “And um… hm, well, I don’t know the time right now, but you got here around 11:00 AM…” Mel trailed off, getting lost in semantics about how, "Well, maybe it was still technically three months and three days then until it was past 11:00 AM” or how it “would be longer if you wanted to consider the real start date from when you signed the lease.”

You couldn’t stop staring at her. And despite the fact that she had just been sick, god, you couldn’t care less. She was talking and talking and you were leaning into her more, and— “Food’s here, Mel!” Trinity shouted, pounding on the bathroom door. “And I guess you too, if you’re done being a dickhead.” You deflated with a sigh, pressing your lips together into a tight line and your hands pushed against the edge of the tub like you were trying to push it through the wall. Right. This was good. It would’ve been wrong to go for something like that now anyway. “I’m hungry,” Mel murmured, but she sounded sad instead of delighted by the news of breakfast being delivered. You tilted your head at her.

“Well, why don’t you change out of those clothes, and you can go eat?” She lazily shook her head. “I can’t eat if I’m all… gross." She looked down at herself, frowning. “I know, so you can get changed…” you trailed off, cutting yourself short when she was languidly shaking her head again. “No…? Okay…” “I was touching the toilet, wasn’t I?” She asked with a miserable expression. You looked at her apologetically, not because it had been your fault, but because you’d be the one confirming it. “Why don’t you take a bath?” you offered instead. “You’re still a little wobbly, and the longer you go without eating—” “I hate baths,” she scowled, shaking her head so fast you had to hold the sides of her head to still her from dizzying herself again. “It’s just sitting in your own filth and soaking in it—” “Okay,” you whispered, and she offered an apologetic smile that was so small and endearing with her cheeks a little squished by your hands.

ʚɞ By the time you were slipping off your shirt to the lounging bra you had worn on the plane, Mel was saying something about feeling bad and how maybe you should at least get one of your bathing suits if you were going to be helping her. “It’s fine, Mel,” you insisted with a little laugh, not really feeling up to explaining why, if you went out there to get a bathing suit, Trinity would be mocking you. You’d rather be in waterlogged underwear than give Trinity fuel right now. Either way, she'll be making fun of you, but your temper still wasn't in a great place for that at the moment. Mel accepted it, even if she felt guilty. Her anxiety was too easily triggered by the thought of you leaving to really insist you not bother.

She slipped off her shirt while you stepped out of your shorts and gathered all the dirty laundry spread out on the tile to put back into the hamper.

"Oh—careful," you warned her with a light laugh and steadied her with a hand on her side when she almost toppled over, hopping on one foot while struggling to take off her work pants.

You lowered yourself into a kneeling crouch to help get the pants past her ankles, and you couldn’t help but laugh when Mel put her hand on top of your head to steady herself. You stood back up and pulled yourself away to focus on getting the shower started, needing something else other than watching her take off her underwear. This could not be about that right now.

Once the temperature of the water was where she liked it, you stepped into the shower, offering her both of your hands.

“It’s okay…” you murmured as she stepped over the side of the tub, gripping your hands suddenly much harder when she thought she might slip. “I know, being hungover isn’t fun…”

In the tub, Mel shyly crossed her arms over her chest as if you hadn’t already seen her fully naked now. Although, you supposed it felt different when were cramped together in a little shower. She still turned around for you, unsure as she looked at you but leaned into it when your fingers ran through her hair.

“I had a really bad day,” she said in a broken voice. You parted your lips to say something comforting only to press them shut when she kept going.

“She’s had a boyfriend all these months, and she never even told me,” Mel said in a tired mumble, gaze flicking from different parts of your sympathetic expression before finding your eyes again. “My own sister didn’t trust telling me something that important, and I’m…a bad doctor.”

“I'm sure Becca had her reasons that had nothing to do with her not trusting you. And you’re not a bad doctor, Mel…” you whispered, smoothing wet hair out of her face.

“You don’t know that.” She looked down at her hands, the weight of the water in her hair making it drape forward. You sighed and held the sides of her face to tilt it back up and smooth her hair out of the way again.

“Why are you supposedly a ‘bad doctor?’”

“I can’t tell you,” she mumbled. “I don’t have a monologue, so I can’t… um… yeah...”

You blinked trying to grasp what she meant by that. Instead, you gestured for her to turn around while you tried to find the right thing to say. After gently reminding her to tilt her head back a bit, you started washing her hair, and you couldn’t stop thinking about the day of the party.

ʚɞ

“Dr. King?”

“Hi," Mel had said so quietly you almost didn't hear it. She remained by the door. "I'm sorry, I can go wait outside..."

"No," Morgan insisted, looking at you then back at Mel.

"No, it's okay. I'd love if you stayed. Can she stay?" When she looked at you again, she almost seemed desperate.

"Of course, yeah," you got out in a breath to her, having struggled to find your voice for a second.

With clear, verbal consent all around, Mel walked in, gently shutting the door behind her. She went around with her head ducked until she was facing your client with a small smile, her hands folded in front of her.

“Hi, Morgan," Mel offered sadly. "How's your mom doing?"

"She's..." the girl swallowed, shaking her head at herself before she was able to use her voice again without it immediately breaking. "She's okay. We're okay."

Mel was about to respond, pressing her lips together and shifting her hands to interlock her fingers instead when Morgan spoke again.

"Why... why are you shadowing a piercer? Did you quit?" Morgan asked, and Mel offered a tired, closed smile.

"No, I'm still at PTMC... we're um..." Mel took a deep breath, just now feeling how desperate she was for air right now. "We’re friends... I'm curious about her job so..."

"Oh, cool," Morgan laughed quietly in relief. "Not... not that I'd blame you for leaving after PittFest, but... y'know...” She trailed off with an apology, the muscles of her chin twitching as her lip wobbled. Too much of her day was spent thinking about and discussing her father, leaving her feeling raw. You both reassured her in soft tones, and you gestured to Mel to sit in your work chair for now while you grabbed tissues.

"You were so amazing to my mom, so I'd..." She swallowed. Morgan breathed in and out shakily, thanking you quietly when you brought her a water as well.

“I just… I’m glad you didn’t quit…”

ʚɞ

“You’re a good doctor…” You tried again as you used the handheld showerhead and ran your fingers through Mel’s hair to help rinse out the conditioner you’d applied moments before.

“How could you know?” she questioned quietly, her eyes cast down.

“Because of Morgan,” you answered, putting the showerhead back in its holder. You made sure to gather all of her hair behind her. She glanced back at you, little droplets clinging to her eyelashes, and you gently urged her to look forward again. “Because of her mom…”

You trailed off, gathering her hair into your claw clip, careful to not snag her hair by accident.

“And because you care this much about doing well.”

“Everyone wants to do well at work. No one wants to lose a job. I certainly can’t afford to,” she muttered. You lathered a face cloth with her soap and started to wash her back in soothing circles. At some point you dragged the cloth down from the back of her neck down to her tailbone, just admiring the curve of her spine.

“Is that all it’s about for you, then? Making money?” you asked, already knowing the answer, but she needed to hear herself say it or at least feel her immediate answer.

“No…”

You smiled faintly at her when she turned back around, letting the suds rinse off under the water. Her expression was still slack from physical and mental exhaustion, but she was grateful. You could tell by the smallest twitch of her cheeks, like she might’ve smiled more if she had it in her.

"See?" you pointed out, and she gave a single nod, sighing through her nose while she watched you cleanse her arms. You only gave her the cloth so she could wash her chest since she had felt a bit shy about you doing it.

“Please don’t be mad at Trinity,” she said now. You only glanced at her, turning your attention to wringing out the cloth once she handed it back to you. You spotted her soap again but didn’t move to grab it yet.

“She had a bad day too,” Mel added, and you chewed on the inside of your bottom lip, flicking your eyes back to hers.

“‘m not mad,” you reluctantly murmured. “I just… I don’t know why she’d do that to you. I mean, I do know, but it… wasn’t cool. It was careless and shitty and—”

“She had a bad day too.”

You pulled your lower lip in as you looked down, biting on it as hard as you could before it could really hurt, and then nodded.

With fresh soap added to the cloth, you helped her wash her lower body so she wouldn’t risk getting dizzy moving up and down. You were silent as guilt gnawed at your stomach. You kept yourself busy with bringing the cloth up to wash at her stomach and the dips of her waist again even if they were perfectly clean.

“I still like that you worry about me, though,” Mel said unexpectedly, making you laugh.

“Shut up." You flicked her waist, and she giggled, twisting her body away, but your free hand was still settled on the other side of her, and you easily nudged her back.

You were still smiling after she rinsed off, and you smoothed your hands over her hair yet again, letting your forearms lazily rest over her shoulders after. She offered a small smile back.

“What am I gonna do with you?”

She shrugged, her smile gentler now—a little less proud than before. You were still getting used to her more proud or smug moments, whenever they happened to show themselves.

“Did you really have fun last night?”

“Yes,” she confirmed with a nod.

“You want to drink like that again?”

“No,” Mel shook her head with wide eyes, internally cringing at the lingering aches from vomiting as much as she did.

“I kinda figured,” you laughed and pulled her to you, squeezing her close. You started to wrap your arms around her middle, only pausing to toss the facecloth aside so you could hold her properly, rocking her to one side and then the other once each.

“I really missed you this week,” you sighed with your chin on her shoulder.

Her responding, “I missed you too,” was slightly muffled where she was hiding her face in the crook of your neck. Her brow furrowed with effort while her eyes squeezed shut, and she wished the two of you were in your bed right now instead of standing. She pulled at you, once again fighting to have you as close as possible.

ʚɞ

Trinity’s heart was still racing over your reaction. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to piss you off as much as she thought she had, even if taking Mel out to drink wasn’t to get a reaction out of you (beyond doing it without you). She went back and forth in her mind while she ate, sometimes stabbing at her food while she thought about starting a real fight the moment you walked back out. Other times she was just tired or sad or both until those feelings sank in too deeply and she was encouraging her anger again.

She was on the couch, fighting the urge to do anything that would cost her another friendship when Mel walked out, still a little dizzied from the leftover effects of the alcohol without food in her stomach. Then there was you, walking out behind her, still concerned about if she got too unsteady. Trinity leaned over the arm of the couch to get a better view down the hallway and cackled. You had to grab a towel from the closet to wrap around your body, wearing underwear that was obviously drenched.

“Shut up!” you got out in as casual a tone as possible on the way to Mel's room without looking at her. You knew she was still going to give you shit.

Mel looked confused at Trinity then at you, nearly tripping over her own feet in the process while you guided her attention back to her room.

Trin mimicked the sound of a whip cracking before the door was shut.

“What’s so funny?” Mel asked in her room, watching you take your towel off to squeeze the excess water from your hair.

You were still in the underwear you had worn into the shower to help Mel, and the way the fabric was clinging to you was really starting to bother you.

"Nothing, she’s just…” you trailed off with a laugh. You shook your head with a lackluster gesture when you saw Mel still looking curiously at you with a tilted head.

“Do you need help getting changed?” You asked instead after a deep breath.

“I don’t think so." She shook her head, thankfully not as bothered by the motion as she had been.

You acknowledged that with a nod, saying something about going to your room now, but you both stayed where you were. Mel toyed with the fibers of the towel wrapped around her, flicking her gaze back to you.

She was getting that feeling again. Apparently, having it identified now didn’t help the experience at all. If anything, it made it worse because it was far more than just a random bout of anxiety. It completely wiped her mind clean of anything she could or should say.

“Right… sorry,” you laughed when you noticed her looking at you, seeing it as your cue to get out of her room.

“Jetlagged,” you offered your excuse to her while she offered a shy smile, unintentionally holding her breath until you were out of her room.

Mel then let out a soft sigh. This was definitely worse than when it was just some sort of anxiety that was hard for her to really understand. Actually knowing what it was felt like it came with the expectation to act, but what was she supposed to do? She’d never dealt with this before, and what if you didn’t reciprocate? What if her lack of experience meant having no chance with you or worse: getting a chance and messing it up.

She didn’t even know exactly what she wanted. She just wanted to be around you all the time, but was that the point of romantic relationships? To make sure that person you want to be around all the time doesn’t go to someone else? It all seemed so big and scary even if in essence it was what she wanted. Having her own person outside of family, who was in her corner and understood her and didn’t leave. If she acted on it, it could mean ruining your friendship, and then you’d be gone. If she didn’t act on it, you’d probably be with someone sooner rather than later, and then all of a sudden you’d still be leaving.

Mel didn’t want you to leave more than anything. She wanted those overwhelming feelings to go away, but she never wanted you to leave.

Realizing she had been standing paralyzed in front of her dresser, Mel finally focused on getting changed, anxiously humming to herself while she found comfortable clothes.

ʚɞ

You hesitated at your bedroom door after you were dressed. Trin had enough good humor left to laugh at you, but you didn’t know how far that went. With her, it was hard to tell what dug in too deep.

When you finally walked out, she was still sitting on the couch looking at her phone. Even if she thought she hid it well, you noticed the way she briefly raised her eyes while keeping her head low as if she were looking at her screen the entire time.

“Hey,” you started, looking behind you to see if Mel was leaving her room yet, then looked back at Trinity with your arms crossed. She mumbled something that could be a greeting…or possibly her cursing at you in Tagalog under her breath.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier… I…” you trailed off with a sigh once she looked at you, her expression as neutral as possible if it wasn’t for the way her jaw was set. You thought of every reason for why you got as upset as you did and knew none of it really mattered for the apology.

“Too busy being pathetic over your roommate, right?” she asked sarcastically with half of a forced smile. You felt her tone was a bit too sharp to be fully joking and didn’t quite know how that hit you even if she was only messing with you.

“I was obviously feeling reactive,” you continued instead. She finally locked her phone and set it aside but went back to avoiding eye contact. Her arms were crossed too, but there was an edge to her body language, whereas yours was telling how nervous you felt.

“While I’m still not happy about you spiking her drinks…” She gave you a look for that but thankfully didn’t talk over you. “I get… you were trying to help her have fun.”

“Yeah, you kinda acted like I was getting her fucked up and then leaving her by herself,” she said with a humorless laugh. Her smile was sour, more of a scowl really, and she kept looking off to the side.

“I know you’d never do that,” you conceded. But Mel never consented to it, and you know how she feels about alcohol, you thought. You kept it to yourself because Mel said it was fine, and again, making certain points no matter how valid wouldn’t help right now.

“I was worried about her, and I acted like an asshole. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, as long as it’s for her, right?” She breathed out as she got up from her spot, feeling too restless and trapped to be sitting while you stood. She went to the kitchen to clean some things up.

“Trin…”

“I’m kidding,” she groaned with a laugh, finally glancing at you. “God, no wonder you reacted like that earlier. You don’t know how to lighten up anymore.”

You only let out an amused huff for her because you didn’t know what to say. You were too busy trying to see just how truthful she was being about things being okay. Honestly, now that you thought about it, she could be a little short with you lately. You admit you put a lot of your time and attention towards Mel, but it was hard not to when you lived together.

You tried planning time together with Trinity when you could, but there was often a work-related issue, or she was hoping something might work out with Yolanda that night, or whatever the reason. Now you were wondering how genuine those responses had been too. You hadn’t fought in years, partially because your friendship had a lot of physical distance involved until this year. You almost forgot how she could get when she was upset with you.

“Trinity, seriously,” you said, and she groaned again, putting a container back down on the table, her other hand slapping down beside it. She looked at you expectantly with her brows raised.

“What?”

“I’m sorry… I’m trying to apologize for earlier.”

“Wow, really? Maybe if you say it for the millionth time I’ll get it,” she gasped as she picked the container up again to throw it out. You walked further into the kitchen when she did, watching her take the to-go containers for you and Mel from the fridge.

“I’m fucking with you,” she whispered, snapping the fridge door shut again. You still eyed her doubtfully.

You attempted to further a proper conversation but barely got past even opening your mouth.

“We’re good, dude. I don't care,” she laughed, turning her attention to the containers again. “But I uh...”

She flipped open one of the containers with a good chunk of the contents missing.

“…I ate all your hash browns.” She placed a hand on the counter as she turned her body to face you, the other hand on her hip while she pressed her lips in a thin line. You couldn’t help the amused smile that got out of you, rolling your eyes up to the ceiling.

“I didn’t feel you deserved them.”

“Not after this morning, I didn’t,” you agreed with a half smile, and Trinity’s body relaxed slightly.

“Exactly,” she agreed in an enthusiastic whisper, leaning forward slightly to dramatize her single nod. She centered herself again, tossing Mel’s container into the microwave.

“So glad you understand. You know not everyone is willing to have consequences for their actions,” she pointed out, walking around you.

“That really is unfortunate,” you agreed, and she let out a little laugh.

“What’s unfortunate?” Mel asked upon entering the kitchen, missing the side glance Trinity gave her for interrupting the moment.

“Oh, nothing. Trin and I were messing around,” you said, smiling and reaching out for her to hold the sides of her face. You swiped at a few baby hairs curling away from her damp, braided hair.

You glanced up in the middle of pulling Mel into a lazy hug, noticing Trinity wasn't in the kitchen anymore. Mel let go of you when you pulled away from her, more focused on grabbing her breakfast anyway. You were relieved to find Trin was just in the living room area, but she was tugging on scrubs.

"You're going to work?"

"Yep..." she sighed and then added with a huff of a laugh, "Not everyone can be as spoiled as Mel."

You were hesitant to comment on that, and then Trinity glanced at you and laughed again.

"Relax. I mean our schedules."

You nodded, but your attempt to smile was weak and fleeting.

"Right..."

"'Kay, bye." She lifted a hand in a lazy wave and swept her hair out from under the collar of her shirt on her way out, bag thrown over her shoulder.

You couldn't even remember if you said it back. You only remembered waving and how Mel walked out of the kitchen to say goodbye, but the door was pulled shut before she could even say anything.

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𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ the photos and gif used in this post do not belong to me.

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