lost in the garden

ꕥ mohellis/parkmira [parker ellis x samira mohan] ✎ long as you dreamin' about me, ain't no problem ✎ taste the water from this well ꕥ rambessa [Ambessa Medarda / Queen Ramonda] ✎ meeting of mines ao3 ꕥ ayenka [ayo/aneka] ✎ beautiful disaster ao3 ✎ unedited cave short ao3 ꕥ melvika [mel medarda/ sevika] ✎ trompe-l'œil ao3 ✎ with strange tenderness [1][2][3][4][5][6] [7] ao3 ✎ modern au melvika fluff polls ✎ melvika modern polls [oneshot] ✎ unedited, melvika modern short ✎ melvika canon moments ꕥ mel medarda ✎ gold ꕥ shuriri [shuri / riri williams]

Making his way back to the couch, he set aside his crutches, sitting down. Cautiously he hoped that they wouldn’t fall over again. Then he began adjusting himself, starting the rather annoying process of making the couch slightly less unbearable for his everything. Back, neck, ankles, knees, the little divots above his hips. The plastic cover squeaked as he rearranged the pillows behind him. He finally peeled off his binder, deciding to take another break.  Exhaustion gnawed at him, but he was used to ignoring it's hunger. 

What took the longest was accommodating his newfound leg injury. Or rather—it was an old injury that was fond of finding new ways to terrorize him.  The leg immobilizer he was sporting was temporary, but he anticipated needing a more permanent brace later down the line if complications kept happening. They always happened. 

Viktor grabbed the mason jar on the side-table, tentatively sniffing at it.

It was a pretty jar. It was gifted to him a long while ago. The note still dangling from the cherry red ribbon tied about it. 

The note was faded, but he could still make out the flowery, cursive slant of initials at the bottom. The jar used to contain peach jam from a fair he's never attended himself, but he's heard enough stories secondhand.

Even now, he hesitates to call them his friends. However, the more time that passed, the more he couldn’t deny it. Could it be friendship if it was one sided? Was it even one sided? He wasn’t sure, but he could imagine those times clearly even now. The guilt—it remains as it always does. 

Somewhat blue skies, hot asphalt, sweet honey in the air. That old oak tree sagging from the weight of summer. Excited voices climbing with fervor as they reached its top, bodies dangling from its branches and rustling its leaves. He envied that memory of a memory even now. His ghost a faint comfort. 

Now, he stored moonshine inside of the mason jar instead of jam. That smell, almost strange. Fruit--the barest amount. The liquid, clean and strong. He took a measured swig, letting out a relieved exhale as it went down smooth.  Hand flicking out to the remote at his side, he began quickly flipping through the channels.

Not everything could fit inside that tiny cube, but it was enough. 

Anything you could think of could appear on that screen, but it was never enough. It kept you coming back for more. He drowned in the barrage of faces, sounds, and people.

Those lives unlike his own. A safe way to dream that didn’t involve endless doctor’s referrals and wishfully deferring college enrollment year after year. A world of gold-tooth, swashbucklers with more stories than friends, grief stricken widows that spiraled out of control, and underestimated children fighting to survive. From the Black-and-white sitcom classics—to the stress inducing news cycle— and the aggressively charming shopping network--there was something for everyone. 

Personally, he was partial to the history channel. It contained no traces of history, but its endless stream of pseudo-scientific documentaries were rather impressive in their stupidity. Asking questions no one would care about. Providing no evidence aside from bad CGI, inaccurate witness testimony, and sheer audacity. It was consistent. It silenced the worst of his anxieties. 

Viktor didn’t like thinking. 

He did it incredibly well and often. It left him rather miserable. There was nowhere to put those thoughts, so he’d rather do without them. 

When he couldn’t ignore them, he’d drown them in the noise and burn his tongue on alcohol. Eventually, it’d be enough to knock him out for a few hours. Enough time to get some sleep in before the old-man got back home and it was time to work again.

Work provided a similar escape. Something that kept him from chewing his eyelids out. It kept him alert. It was something to look forward to as the days passed on. However, his work wasn’t entirely his own. He still had to defer to Dr. Reveck for most ongoing projects.  

Dr. Reveck has never wronged Viktor, but he hesitates to claim that the old man ever did right by him. He was more-so a supervisor than a guardian. He’d sooner receive feedback from him than any ounce of affection. 

It was a fine arrangement for now.

Viktor didn’t have to bother with obtaining funding for his research, but he knew it couldn’t last forever. He had no desire to die and resented its inevitability. However if that was the predetermined outcome, he wanted to enjoy a life he didn’t entirely despise. He wanted—so many things, yet nothing at all. He wanted control, freedom, some semblance of peace. He wanted money in his bank account, degrees on his wall, a garden without pests, a world without worries. He has long-since decided that he’d never acquire any of that as long as he was tethered to that old man. So ironically, he’d have to keep working for the man, saving his money until he could finally be free of him. 

His days and night cycled through fast. A blur of time, space, and lingering regrets. Today was no different. The sun crossed the sky. Moonlight flooded his face, disturbing his rest. That lazy afternoon roaring to life in the evening. The sirens endless, a wailing that never ceased. 

Viktor squinted in the dim light, making out the dented-up station wagon in the drive-way. A stark shadow unwinding. They climbed out the driver’s seat, grabbing a box from the truck. He pretended to rest for a moment longer, listening to the jingle of the keys as the front door unlocked. Those quiet, shuffling steps and rasping voice. Dr. Reveck talked to himself often. He briefly tensed up as the man stopped in front of him, unmoving for a long while. 

Cracking an eye open, Viktor could see the man hunched over. He set down the box, switching the channel to the news. 

Face pallid, grim, completely flooded by light. Dr. Reveck still wore his lanyard from work. It dangled from his neck, keys clustered around the I.D. A younger self beaming at the camera. Chipper, full of life, and a head filled with hair. Ready for a long day of teaching freshman chemistry. His eyes no longer had that same shine, the glass eye only reflecting the pale blue light from the television. 

Dr. Reveck cleared his throat, pulling away the scarf wrapped about his face, the thick scars no longer hidden. Without looking back, he said, “We have a busy night ahead of us.” 

Viktor sighed, giving up his act with little resistance. Shoulders popping as he sat up and wiped at his eyes, “Don’t we always?” he muttered, mood sour. Instead of launching into what he had in store for them, the old man continued watching the news attentively. His silence and the anticipation it brought quieted whatever complaints Viktor had to offer. Dutifully, he listened to the news segment. The News Anchor— Weslyn Rivers—was as chipper as always. Nothing new. Then, it finally cut away to the next segment. 

A wood podium. Microphones circling about, eager. Cameras flashing. A rapid storm of light flooded the screen as Mayor Salo stepped onto the stage. Enforcers flanked him at all sides. 

He waved about. Pale hair greasy, smile as slippery as usual. Though tonight he did look rather strange, almost unkempt. Without a tie, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, sweat stains visible in his armpits. Eyes wandering, searching the crowd of press gathered around him as if he was a worm being circled by hawks. 

Finally getting through the trivial greetings, he began his speech, “Years ago, I entered this office at a time our community was enduring great hardship and grieving an unforeseen loss. As such, I have always been guided by the legacy of Mrs. Kiramman, whose lofty ideals and moral fortitude pushed us to want a better future for our city, our children, and ourselves—” 

A snort escaped Viktor. He quickly covered it with a cough as Dr. Reveck sent him a warning glance. 

Within seconds, it was as if Mayor Salo aged years as he struggled to get out his next words, “So even as I  exit  office,” his voice wavered. Clearing his throat thrice, he spat out his next words so quick, the room almost missed them, “—and officially suspend my campaign for the next election,  It is my full intention to uphold these standards and protect our community from the wave of indiscriminate violence and moral corruption plaguing our streets—”

-

Everything was beautiful at the theater.

Everyone had their place. A clear cut purpose. A defined role that could be shaped bit by bit to suit the changing needs of the production.  Nothing was left up to speculation. All you had to do was read the notes, read the room, and adjust accordingly. 

A school dance was a little different. However, generally speaking, the rules were the same. It was easy to meet expectations. Mood lighting for the venue, some carefully placed spotlights for the announcer, and space for the photo booth. Decorations—shimmery and purchased at a reasonable rate. Transforming the space without exceeding the budget. Music—age-appropriate, but with enough popular hits to win over the crowd. And most importantly, people. Lots and lots of sweaty, perfume drenched, big mouthed people. Folks who weren’t immediately inclined to dance, but succumbed to the pressure as the night went on. 

Elora didn’t often attend dances. 

Typically, she was setting up the events and cleaning up everyone’s messes after-the-fact. Her friends tended to avoid the events all-together for one reason or another, so she’s never had any interest either. This was the case even when she still believed she was capable of enjoying romance, which created some rather awkward interactions growing up. 

Elora could play the role of the perfect date just fine. She bought flowers, opened doors, and cuddled upon request. She liked learning about people’s interests, hearing their thoughts, and seeing them enjoy themselves. However, the relationships never got far. The thought of having her affections returned was little…confusing. She didn’t mind it, but she’s perfectly fine without it. This indifference often came off wrong despite her best efforts. 

At this point, she was slowly, slowly accepting this reality. She stopped forcing herself to endure it all. It was still difficult to process.  It was strange to grieve a part of herself that she was confident never existed. She wasn’t interested in dating beyond the kissing parts and there was nothing she could do about that. Though, she still clung to the idea of partnership. She was uncertain if that was realistic dream to have.

For now, she focused on what she knew to be real. Hand in hand, in hand, the friends weaved through the crowd. Mel their guiding light as they navigated the bustling room. 

First, they needed to freshen up. The bathrooms were effectively taken over by various groups of students. They were more then willing to help them refresh their make up and adjust their clothes. Then pictures and more pictures at the photo-booth. Prior to leaving for the dance, they endured an endless photo shoot from Dr. Medarda, but now they were under Mel’s direction. Adjusting their poses and smiles just so until she was satisfied. Naturally, they were holding up the line. At that point, Sevika had decided to take matters into her own hands. She further derailed the process by making faces, comments, and playing with the props. Elora may or may not have joined in. All of which frustrated Mel, but by the end of it she was laughing hard. The final pictures warm and toothy, the shrieks bursting through the photo strips. 

Elora gripped the photos tight, unwilling to let go. One after the other, they moved through the crowd once more, searching for food or a table. Whatever came first. Careful not to let anyone break their line by Mel's request.

It was rather childish. Clinging to them all night like she didn’t understand the entire reason for them coming here. She didn’t want to let go, but she was willing. 

She understood her role. 

Elora let go of Mel’s hand first, breaking off from her friends with a paper-thin excuse on her tongue.

-

Growing up, she was an only child.  

Even her birth was a lonely affair. Her dad was careful in disclosing the details, but he never hid the truth from her if she asked. Even then, she’s read between the lines to get at the meat of it all. 

Mama was a filmmaker who never got around to making films, but she was fairly happy as a restaurant  manager.  Papa was a writer who didn’t get around to writing much, but he was a half-decent accountant. Her birth parents had eloped against their families wishes, neither side wanting any involvement with the other. It didn't matter. They were happy together and wanted to build a family. They wanted a child more than anything. And that's all that matters in the moment, but the moment passes. 

Mama arrived at the hospital a little too late, her pain ignored one too many times by staff. Her death was what finally pushed her Papa to his limits, his life falling apart at the seams. He asked for help. He did everything right. For a little while, they even thought he was getting better. He didn’t. 

Her father’s side of the family only tentatively accepted Elora’s existence since she came out the right shade of beige. They couldn't find anyone from her mother's side. Elora wasn’t sure they wanted anything to do with her, so she stopped searching.

Elora was lucky that Rictus decided to take her in. He was a friend of her parents at the time. The only one her Papa trusted to take care of her during his treatment. He was the only dad she’s ever known. She should’ve been alone, but she wasn’t. Everyday she was grateful for that fact.

She was an only child growing up, but she had friends. Her childhood was somewhat normal, her prospects average. She’d never be happy getting married and having kids, but she’d be satisfied if she had a nice job. Something that would let her make enough to support her dad in his retirement. She wanted to repay him for his kindness. She wanted to somehow make his sacrifices worth it. 

She was supposed to be alone, but she wasn’t.  There were many times she’d wake up in the dead of night with that in mind. Thoughts churning, she reluctantly whispered this confession over and over into the dark of the room—not expecting an answer.

However a few weeks ago, it was a little different. She woke up, the sickness long gone. Her airwaves so clear the oxygen burned her nostrils. Blankets suffocating, a choking sense of doom that grasped at her entire being without mercy. She turned, she turned again, kicking the covers to the floor and unintentionally knocking her friend to the ground. 

Mel woke with a start. A pained groan escaped as she sat up. She rubbed her eyes confused, bonnet askew on her head. 

Elora peered over the edge, apologetic, but she didn’t manage to apologize. The fear in her heart settled as her friend’s eyes opened, meeting hers. Relief flooding her senses. Those somewhat green eyes answering her plea without even trying. 

Elora  was still in a daze. Trapped between sleep and not, unspeaking. The stacked up take-out boxes of half-devoured food and books towering in her mind, lightening the tightness in her chest. 

Mel didn’t interrupt her thoughts. There was an understanding. A softness that was offered unquestioned. Mel crawled back into bed, winding their hands together, and settling at her side. Heat and limbs intertwined, bodies heavy with words that threatened to overwhelm. 

It inspired an odd sense of dejavu. Memories making themselves known. Reminding her that this moment has happened before and it will happen again. In retrospect, she knew it was childish, but at the time she had an unwavering confidence that the feeling would last forever. She knew it wouldn’t, but for that moment she believed it and that was more than enough. The thought quieting a part of her that she hadn’t realized was starving. 

They held onto one another until morning. When Elora woke again, she promised to herself to repay that kindness as many times as she could afford. 

-

Mel’s nerves made themselves known for the first time that evening. Drawing tight around her gut and holding her heart hostage.

She smoothed her skirt until not a wrinkle could be seen. Her hands twisting together, nails clicking. She watched Elora disappear into the crowd, abandoning her without mercy. Leaving her stranded on that island. Fated to be buried in the sand of anguish and washed away with the tides of defeat. 

Technically, this was all according to plan.

However, she has decided that it was an awful plan and she desperately wanted Elora to come back.  It was easy on paper. Day dreaming about this situation between classes, doodling the curve of their nose and the cut of their chin in the margins of her math tests.

It was a lot harder living it out.

Any misstep would leave her feeling like a silly little girl playing dress up. 

Right now, the worst hasn’t happened. The night has been fun. In fact, it was surprisingly normal, like any other time they’ve hung out. She so desperately wanted it to be different this time, but she wasn’t sure how to cross that line. She wasn’t even sure they felt the same or if she was just imagining things. Childishly holding onto hope with no other evidence but the butterflies that sprang up whenever they smiled in her direction. 

She couldn’t even wrap her head  around the fact that she managed to get this far. Was she asking for too much? Maybe this was more than enough? Being at their side, being in their life however they saw fit.

That could be enough, right?

It had to be. 

Mel snuck a glance at Sevika. She was talking with a few people from her class. Her hand casually resting on the back of Mel’s chair, occasionally brushing against where the back of her dress dipped lower. She wasn’t entirely sure if the contact was intentional, but at this point it didn’t matter. It was undeniably distracting.   She snuck another glance, a little peeved that she didn’t get to see them dressed up like this all the time. It suited her well. 

Sevika couldn’t help but effortlessly be herself, taking up space without shame. Eyes keen, darkened with kohl and attentive to everyone around.  Hair thrown up into a half-assed ponytail because it kept falling into her eyes throughout the night.  Sleeves rolled up, bunching at the crook of her elbow, muscle solid. Mouth crooked, somewhat amused by the conversation, yet entirely transparent with her judgment as her classmates recounted their senior prank plans. 

Admiration, envy, and something else entirely. The emotions Sevika invoked were always complicated. The more she tried to figure them out, the more tangled she became, often leaving her stuck. 

Mel snuck another glance, but this time she was caught. Sevika’s mouth twitched up. She winked quick, returning to the conversation without missing a beat. Mel was just as quick to look away, deciding that the photo-booth pictures were far more interesting then whatever was happening in her ribcage. 

Shooing off her classmates, Sevika pulled up another chair.

She found it a little funny how Mel insisted on ignoring her for those pictures despite wanting her attention this entire time. Leaning on her arm she decided to wait her out until she stopped stewing. They absentmindedly picked up one of the treats that were scattered on the table. She bit into it, then immediately spit it out, wrapping it up in a napkin and pushing it away. 

Fuck waiting.

Sevika was bored. She scooted her chair closer, comically close. Enough so that it would be rather difficult to ignore. Then she took great pains to reach out, hand hovering in Mel’s periphery vision, but pointedly not touching. She kept that up until that got Mel’s left eye twitching up a storm, eyes shooting over at her, annoyed, “What?”

“What?” Sevika echoed, playing dumb. She scooted even closer, knees bumping together. She was perfectly content to sit in silence if it meant she got to stare at Mel’s pretty face all night. 

“...You’re staring,” Mel pointed out, pushing her a braid behind her ear. Tongue swiping at her teeth, wondering if it was stained. Did the jelly-beans forsake her?

“Am I?”

Mel rolled her eyes, “Yes, you are,” she said, displeased, “I don’t have a mirror, so at least help me fix it.” 

Sevika didn’t bother to correct her assumption, taking  advantage of the opportunity.

Perfume faint, filling the space in between them. Mel tilted her face up, patient and expectant.

Sevika took her time looking her over. Hand reaching out, hovering over the gentle curve of her face indulgently, almost giving into the impulse. Eyes darting down for a split second, but she thought better of it. Ghosting past, she untucked the braid behind Mel’s ear, letting it fall loose, “Relax,” she murmured under her breath, mouth suddenly dry, “You look fine.“

At that, Mel’s eyes narrowed, “Only fine?” she challenged. She tipped her head slow in one direction, drawing attention to the curve of her neck, a long line that they hungrily followed down. 

Sevika exercised an impressive amount of restraint, an eyebrow ticking up. Almost taking the bait between her teeth and pulling her into the water. She was reading too much into it, that’s all. “You know you look good,” Sevika countered, not missing how Mel relished the comment, “You always do “ 

Eyelashes fluttering, the cat licking the canary clean. Mel was too damn pleased even as she ducked her head to hide her face. 

It was hard to deny that.

She was undeniably responding. Attraction dripping down and leaving its trail behind. She couldn’t help but follow, hungrier in more ways then one. Was it just the proximity? The mood of the night? The novelty of it all? She couldn’t pinpoint how deep it ran. 

Sevika could find out right now. 

“Watch it, Maharaj,“ Coach Galang warned, cutting her train of thought short. She hit the table as she passed, the pair snapping apart. She wore a garish, velvet suit that was entirely too tight, shirt stained. Leaving their clothes almost glowing. That strange, green ooze made them both do a double take. 

Stiff as a board, they now sat at a respectable distance apart. Embarrassment burning hot between them as they remembered they weren’t alone. Obnoxious music still blaring as they retreated into a prolonged silence. 

Sevika cut Mel a look. 

Mel sucked in her bottom lip, maintaining her composure for only a few seconds more before breaking. Stifled laughs shaking away all lingering tension. The pair didn’t look away from each other this time, cautious as always, but with a newfound, sparkling awareness of the other. 

There was doubt and there was certainty. For some reason when it came to Mel Medarda, she always found herself standing stuck in between. But inexplicably at that moment it felt easy to decide. Was it always this easy? Would it always be this easy?

Often times being at her side was an agonizing affair, but the time apart was no better.  Sevika simply spent it thinking about her. The nature of her desire was tedious. Difficult in ways she’d never considered, yet she couldn’t deny it at this point.

Scratching the back of her neck, Sevika searched for a voice strong enough to speak. She didn't find it, but her mouth still moved, “Did you," she cleared her throat, dying a little inside as the question slipped out, “Did you want to dance? After this song, I mean,” she corrected, nose scrunching up at the abrupt song change. It was from an older movie she couldn’t name, but she inexplicably recognized. It left her irrationally annoyed.  She knew the D.J would suck, but she’d realize they’d suck this much. 

Mel was also briefly distracted by the song change too, but her attention returned easily. She covered up her suprise, nodding,  “I’d like that,” she said, quieter than before. Lips folding in as she fought off a grin. A giddiness vibrating through her whole body as she accepted that it was happening, a light shining—

A spotlight shined on their table. The flood of light jarring, leaving the pair frozen. The music ramped up even louder, nauseatingly loud.

Squinting up warily, her stomach churned as she realized how much attention they were drawing. The noise around them not quite stopping, but she could feel the eyes turning, falling, landing on her and leaving her chest tight. Unconsciously the pair  shifted towards each other, equal parts disoriented and confused.

A flash of white emerged from the crowd. Jayce tripped on their feet, stumbling to their knees at Mel’s side, but they didn’t bother standing up. Instead, she breathlessly presented a bouquet of flowers with a flourish. 

Their mouth was moving, but Sevika didn’t hear a word. 

-

"I have my […]/ I feed it/ coconut and cassava root/ pure spring water and lullabies"

- Terri Jewell, Celebrant 

-

[ track:17/?] : summer

It was a well rehearsed apology, tumbling out before Mel could properly catch their breath, “I’m sorry for being late. My mother was being—-difficult,” which was an understatement. 

Mel doesn’t know how the argument spiraled out of control so quickly. It was like a switch flipped and suddenly she wasn’t allowed to go to the birthday party, she wasn’t allowed to question it, she wasn’t allowed to say anything. It was like speaking to a brick wall who vaguely resembled her mother. It set Mel off even thinking about it. She hadn’t even known her voice could get that loud, her body could shake so much, her anger a foreign entity that she didn’t care to reign in.

In the moment, she didn’t feel like herself, but she couldn’t deny the familiarity. She tried not to think about their old home. It was for the best. She missed it terribly, but she didn’t miss everything. The pinkie promises—the late nights where the door would unlock too loudly, her brother's breath burning too strongly, the stench of outside clinging close.

Kino could never get anything past her mother, but that never stopped him from trying.  

Mel remembers sneaking out and sitting on the porch early in the morning. She'd wait until the birds started singing before trekking over to either Sevika or Elora’s house for breakfast and a quick nap. She didn’t want to listen to them argue over breakfast, over laundry, over grades, and college, and missing curfew after curfew. Everything was a problem, nothing was right, and it left her so tired. She always thought they’d have to eventually get tired of it too. The anger had to run out, right? 

She’s only gotten a small taste of it, but she understood why it was a self feeding flame. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got, so it was better to not think about it at all. 

Shaking her head, Mel’s nostrils flared at the memory. A lurching hurt that was awfully fresh, but the shame was even stronger. Overhearing how her mother spoke to Nani—how she spoke about the Maharaj family like they were strangers— cut even deeper. 

Mel didn’t have grandparents in her life. She had no aunts, no uncles, no cousins. Her family tree was more comparable to a branch that began and ended in the south. She didn’t have an extended family to rely on, but she was grateful for the people she did have. She didn’t understand why she wasn’t allowed to come—it had always dangerous. Hell, she was there the other week. The situation couldn't have changed that drastically, right? Even so, her mother could've easily went with her if she was so concerned about safety, but she was too busy tending to her would-be-constitutes.

What Mel hated the most was how this was only part of the problem. Her Mother was intent on pushing away every part of her old life. Leaving everything—everyone—she cared for behind. “I—I’m sorry about that call. I know I missed most of the party, but I promise to make it up to you, “ she wheezed, apology being cut short as her body was crushed in Sevika’s arms.

Without complaint, Mel relaxed in their embrace. Hands bunched up, gripping on tight. The heat of her palms bleeding through the fabric. Letting gravity take over, the pair fell into the bed. Mattress creaking, the distant sound of laughter and music from the front yard filtering in through the open window.

“How’d you sneak out?” Sevika asked, still choked up and eyes squeezed tight. She wasn’t letting go until she could properly fix her face. She vaguely understood their muffled reply, something involving inviting her mom’s “friend” over to celebrate a promotion that didn’t exist. 

Mel paused her story, wiggling her face free so she could talk proper,”...Are you crying?” she quietly inquired. 

“No.”

“...It sounds like you’re cry—”

“I’m not,” Sevika said, defensively.

Mel accepted that without further probing. Head leaning on Sevika’s shoulder, content, her hands tangled in their long hair. 

Tension eased out of Sevika bit by bit, exhausted as the world finally slowed down. Was she always this tired? Would she always be this tired? The pair had been attached at the hip the entire summer,  their whole life. She knew it was inevitable they’d have to part ways eventually, but the actual threat of it was terrifying. 

According to every adult in her life, she was gearing  up to be launched off a cliff that held none of her usual childhood comforts.

It was either her Baba—or her Nani—or her teachers in her ear about it.  Their expectations high. The pressure building as she ran that final stretch. Amma was different. She was the only one in her life who wasn't up her ass about it. She was supportive, but she didn’t necessarily get it. She dropped out of college and paved her own path forwards without a second glance back.

In comparison, it was silly being scared to do something that had always been expected. No one thought she'd fail—she wasn't allowed to. It didn't feel like victory, it didn’t feel like she was accomplishing anything at all. It was as if at any second, the lights would turn on and she’d see the crowd laughing at her expense. That she’d look back at all those years of work and realize how much time she’d wasted and how little the world would care about that outcome. 

Here and now she didn’t have to worry about any of that yet. Sevika was perfectly content to use Mel’s back like her own personal worry stone, basking in the stillness it brought.

-

Bowl steaming in hand, her undershirt was slick to her back. Sweaty all over from the wet, summer heat. The house was nasty. Like walking through mud and breathing in muck. Every smell, sound, and taste sticking close to the body. A weight hung over the home. Clouds blackening the whole sky, ribbons of lighting flashing across the horizon.

Hurricane season was creepin’ up on them early, but that didn’t stop the party. The music playing steady, thumping, louder by the second. The front yard, kitchen, and living room crawling with people on people. Family, neighbors, family of neighbors. Their shoulders, elbows, and voices bumping into her every way she turned. She loved everyone being here, she hated it—such is life. 

Moving the beer and the bowl to the same hand, Sevika knocked on her bedroom door. Eyes darting about, impatient. Even though she was stuffed at this point, she was tempted to sneak a mouthful to tie herself over. 

The door cracked open, hands flashing out and snatching up the offered items. They moved to slam the door close, but she caught it with her foot, “Can’t even let me in my own room?” she questioned, sucking her teeth noisily. 

Mel peered through the crack in the door, already chewing up a storm. She scooped up another mouthful of pelau, shaking her head, “I’m not ready yet,” she said, braced, her hip against the door to stop them from opening it further, “You’ll ruin the surprise,”she complained, shooing her off and shutting the door again.

Jiggling the doorknob, Sevika tried and failed to get it back open. She rolled her eyes hearing the muffled giggles behind the door, “C’mon, let me,” she flinched, body going into fight or flight. She was yanked away, face being shoved into boy pits, “Fuckin’—" she sputtered, fighting back, "Piss off man.”

Sevika got got by her cousins.

Circling her on either side was Vinai and Bobby. They had different parents, but were twins in a way. They looked nothing alike, but they had the same birthday—albeit a year apart— and the same ugly mug in spirit. Both were banned from the corner store 'round the block. Both solid, smelly, and towering over her. The meatheads passing her about like seagulls with a stolen sandwich. Ruffling her hair and pinching her face, hooting like damn dogs. 

Coming around the corner was Nylah. She was technically the oldest cousin, but they were all around the same age. All the other cousins were either knee-high brats or preteens.

Nylah would be the spitting image of her Nani, right down to the grimace she always sported. That is, if you ignored the heavy make-up, lashes, and piercings. Her shaved head had grown out a little since Sevika last saw it. The pea-sized curls slicked down and dyed peacock blue.  “Aye, ease up on the birthday girl,” she scolded, leaning against the wall. She provided no other assistance, passively watching on as they got Sevika into a headlock. 

“Nah, she tryna act grown,” Bobby said with a biting smile, “We gotta set her right.”

Vinai nodded in agreement, flicking at Sevika’s nose as she glared up at him, “She sneakin’ around with girls, but never got time to hang with us no more.” 

Bobby squeezed her tighter, “It's disrespectful to her elders.”

“Right, right. How else will she learn to respect her elders?” Vinai echoed, nodding with his bobble-head, rat tail having ass.

Sevika struggled to break free, “I’m not sneaking around with nobody,” she protested, gasping for breath. wheezing as she tried to catch her breath. 

“You think I got rocks for brains?” Vinai squatted down to get on her level, jabbing a finger in her face before she could answer that, “I done seen that girl come up here. You real greedy, not even introducing us,” he pulled the finger back before it got bit. 

Sevika rolled her eyes, “It's just Mel.”

The jokes and laughs fell off. She got the distinct feeling she should’ve kept her mouth shut. 

Everyone exchanged silent looks over her head. 

Nylah was the first to speak, "What time was she born again?” she asked, a glint in her eye. 

Sevika shot her an irritated look, catching on immediately, “No, no. We’re not doin' none of that, we’re just friends.” She's introduced enough people to her family to know not to answer that question under any circumstances.

“Doing what?” Nylah said, smiling cheekily back. 

“...That was Mel?” Vinai asked, completely ignoring the exchange. He looked past Sevika with thinly veiled interest, “Melly with the big forehead?”

This got a laugh out of Bobby, “More like Melly with the—” he flinched back. In that moment, Nylah had crossed over, whacking him across the back of his head before he could finish the sentence, “Whadididooo, ” he whined, dropping his grip on Sevika to rub his head. 

“Bein’ fucking nasty for no good reason, “ Nylah spat through narrowed eyes, “Don’t her mama go to your church?” 

“That shit was for press,” Bobby said with a shrug, “I ain’t never seen Dr. Medarda in no church until she started running for mayor.” 

“She can take me to church any day,” Vinai muttered under his breath, elbowing Bobby goodheartedly and the pair barked out another laugh.

In the meantime, Sevika silently contemplated running them both over with a car. 

Thankfully, there would be no deaths this evening.

Nylah snatched them both by the ears, ignoring the fuss they kicked up about it. Before she dragged them off, she stopped short, remembering why they went looking for Sevika to begin with,  “Hey, they’re throwing a concert by the docks, did y’all wanna go with us?” she called back. 

“Nah," Sevika said, shaking her head, "We shouldn’t push our luck.”

Once they were gone, she deflated. Back sliding against the door, deeply exhausted by the interaction. She hopes no one else will seek her out. Shutting her eyes, she tried to tune out the noise, wondering what Mel working on.

Finally, the door creaked open. 

Sevika obediently shut her eyes upon request. She was partially grateful for that. Her cousin's comments from earlier were still ringing in her head. She was trying her hardest to kill that train of thought.

Mel guided Sevika carefully into the room. A solid box was pressed into her hands. Smooth paper, cool to the touch.

“Alright,” Mel murmured, dangerously close to Sevika’s ear. Breaths quiet and steady like beating wings. Floating easy above all other noise. The world being shut away as the door closed behind them,“I’m ready for you.”

-

[track 18/? ] : spring, again

Bristling. 

Thorns sprung in her throat, growing thick under the skin, but she held on tight to the feeling. Unwilling to let it break through, knowing it would only draw blood. An ugliness she couldn’t name, but came so easily. It only festered as she forced herself to listen to that confession. 

Sevika stood outside the school restrooms. She leaned against the wall by the entrance, arms crossed.

Mel and Jayce were delicate with one another. A tentative dance, even if the tension was bursting at this point. 

It was hard to pretend this situation didn't make her want to put her head through the nearest wall. Yet, she couldn’t find it in herself to walk away. 

“Do you…do you like the flowers?” Jayce asked, breaking that painful silence. Her voice echoed through the bathroom, a little too loud. Tumbling over each letter like plates clattering to the floor all at once. The minute the first one broke, the rest had to follow, “I ordered your favorites, but the it was last minute so it's not as big as I wanted. And—and I wanted to surprise you at your house, but your Mom said you already left and—”

“Jay,” Mel gently cut them off. Jayce inhaled, bracing themselves, “I like the bouquet,” she reassured. The flowers rustling as she pressed it against her chest, “But, you didn’t have to get them for me.”

“I wanted to—”

“I thought you wanted space.” 

Silence, again. Throbbing and bloody. Mel's voice sounded weary, growing fainter by the second. A bitterness shaping each word, cutting to the meat of the issue in one precise strike.

“I didn’t know what I wanted back then,” Jayce admitted, slightly taken aback.“I was tired an—and—I took my shit out on you. You didn’t deserve that at all. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean it.” They exhaled, bleak, muttering offhandedly to themselves, “I acted just like my old man and I fucking hate myself for it.”

The soft clicking of a heels, Mel drew closer, "Don’t say that."

“It’s true though,” Jayce said, forcing a hollow laugh,“You were the best part about my life. You were the only person who believed in me and actually gave a fuck about what I had to say.” Slow shuffling footsteps drew closer and closer, “And I messed that up.”

“...Jayce.”

“I miss us.”

“We really…shouldn’t.”

“Mel, I can’t stand living without you. I lo—” 

Sevika’s head snapped up, face falling. 

Tears sprung to her eyes before she could stop them.  The floor was shaking. Sevika looked down at her hands. She turned them over, unable to stop the tremor. Wave after wave crashing down on her, slamming into her heart, a bell that never stopped ringing once it was rung. 

The ground was moving, then her feet. Adrift, painfully aware of every twitch and ache. Voices far, distant, gone, leaving her cold. The wind sharp and unyielding. 

There was doubt and there was certainty. For some reason when it came to Mel Medarda, she always found herself standing stuck in between. 

Now she understood. Once you opened the box, you couldn't pack it away neatly. It leaked. Oozed. It pooled at her feet, dirtied her socks, threatening to pull her under with no chance of reprieve. No hopes of the sun reaching. 

She’s seen what that feeling—that word does to people. It was the type of feeling that made you feel like everything was possible. Like nothing else mattered. That made you forget bills and dodge debt-collectors. That made you forget to eat and drink yourself into oblivion. The feeling that made you risk it all for pennies in return. That made you a shell. That made you lifeless, unmoving, as good as dead—gone. 

It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t good. It was ugly, every bit of it. 

Baring your heart did you no good. It made you a fool and Jayce embraced this foolishness head on. That confession still rung in her ears. A confidence—a sure footedness that left her off balance. Second thoughts bloomed one after the other. How did she let herself fall so far? Was she stupid? Why was she so stupid?  It was so easy when it was just the dance. She didn’t even think of what would happen next. 

Sevika tried to imagine doing the same—confessing. Taking that leap of fate. The thought alone made her skin crawl, dreadfully exposed. Everything would change. Every action scrutinized. What if she had assumed too much? What if she made her uncomfortable? What if she overstepped and she was taking advantage of her friend's goodwill? She could’ve ruined everything. She didn’t deserve it. She didn’t earn it at all. 

Sevika thought she was ready, but she wasn’t. She doesn’t think she’d ever be ready. That version of her doesn’t exist—it never will. 

 -

[track 17/?] : summer, again

That funny feeling was getting funnier by the second. 

Sevika sat on the floor of her room. Blankets and sheets were pinned up like peaking towers and hills. That elaborate, make-shift fort muted the light. Pillows artfully arranged underneath. Everything was soft, warm, and lulling. Scattered across the pillows were a slew of snacks, a few wrapped presents, and cards.

Mel had collected the assortment from those who'd decided not to come.

As far as Sevika is concerned, only Elora had a pass for today. Her gift—the bound journal with her name embossed in gold on the spine— already placed on her window sill. Everyone else had to grovel for forgiveness—or send cash. However, she was impressed that Mel had managed to gather everything so last minute.

Leaning back on her hands, Sevika tried not to think about it further. It was becoming increasingly difficult not to think of her.

Mel crawled over, reaching around their neck. The gold chain cold against her collarbone, deft fingers fastening it into place. 

Sevika shivered. Touch lingering, hands settling on her shoulders.

Mel peered over, pressed against their back, “Do you like it?” she asked, over eager, “...You don’t like it?” 

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Sevika said, running her hand over the chain. She wasn’t a stranger to gold, but expensive gifts always made her nervous. 

“I wanted to,” Mel said, nose scrunching up as she studied her reaction, “Do you like it?”

Cute—Sevika's brain unhelpfully supplied. She ignored that. Mel was a girl. Girls were cute sometimes. No big deal.

Mel leaned forward, resting her chin on their shoulders, “I didn’t buy it you know,” she softly explained. Her hand did a strut along Sevika's shoulders, tracing distracting circles as she spoke, “My dad designed and commissioned a bunch of a pieces for a campaign overseas. The collection was never finalized so we got to keep the samples.” 

All at once, the chain around her neck grew heavy. The full weight of the gesture settled, doing nothing to put her at ease, “You should keep it then,” Sevika said, hand jerking away gift, “It's nice, but…”

It's far too nice for her. 

Mel hummed as if thinking it over, “No, it's too pretty to waste away in a box. It suits you much better.”

-

Reese clutched his stomach, hand slamming against the foldable table repeatedly. The stacks of paper plates and half-empty bottles shaking as he let out a wheezing laugh that carried over the music, “And he be a buff dude. Big in the shoulders, cock n’ balls type shit, but I handle buff dudes all the time. I’m not bussin’ at all. He keeps laying on the horn and it's finna get annoying, so I switch seats with shawty, open my window, and then—and I said, ” he couldn’t finish his sentence, choking on his spit from laughing so hard.

The people around him were laughing too, for reasons unrelated to his story. 

At his side, Ma rubbed at his shoulders. Positively smitten, glowing, a tipsy. She jumped into the conversation easily, explaining her parts of the story while he recovered. All the while, he cheesed at her, getting far too handsy. Ma was far too into it and—blegh. 

Sevika averted her gaze quick, making a gagging sound, “He’s so fuckin’ annoying,” she said, turning away from the window. She took a drag from her blunt, bed creaking as she scratched herself. 

Mel was still peering out the corner of the window, careful not to get spotted by the people in the yard, “I dunno, they’re kinda cute together,”  she mused, almost wistful, as she leaned against her hand. Slowly, her friend turned towards her, shocked and betrayed. she shrugged, looking off sheepish, “What? They  work in a way…”

“A fucked up way?” Sevika said, flat. She’s heard the story of how they met no less than thirteen times and she was not at all impressed. Something about a festival in the desert. The pair shared the same piss-cup and talked about how life was a piss-cup, real riveting, cosmos bending romance. 

“...In a way,” Mel  repeated, visibly struggling to keep a neutral expression. A crumb of amusement worming its way past, making her lips quiver as she continued listening to the absurd story outside. Eventually, she pulled herself away from the window too, turning towards them, “And he seems…nice. I don’t know why you hate him so much, you just met the guy.” 

Sevika blew smoke in her direction, making Mel’s nose curl, “I’d hate him even if I never met him,” she clarified. The fact that he speaks like he was the spiritual successor to an Al Jolson act was just the cherry on top of the fucked up sunday.

It never mattered if she liked the guy or not. 

Ma was already making vacation plans and boasting about their spectacular, unshakable bond. All smiley and laughy like she didn’t spend the last few months talking her ear off about how all men were shit. Usually during a dry-spell, Sevika would get all of Ma's attention. She'd plan to take her on mother-daughter trips—across the country, across the world. Just the two of them. It'd be like the good old days. It’d be like a homecoming. She'd show her around Chaguanas and final introduce her to her other relatives in person. Sometimes she’d go as far as planning a trip all the way back to India. 

Sometimes those phone calls were the only thing Sevika had to look forward to during the week. She had plenty of people around her, but sometimes that wasn’t enough to satiate that itch. A growing restlessness that snuck its way into every part of her life. Those dreams pushed her through exhaustion and the day-to-day stresses. That promise keeping her afloat even if it felt like she was getting boxed with each passing day.

Even now, she could hear the sirens in the distance. See the lights—red then blue, then red again. The music was loud, the people were plenty. Somehow it wasn’t enough to drown out the sound. 

Ma always ended up canceling.

Work was one of many reasons. There was always another tour, another contract. Referrals were gold in that industry. If she wasn't available when they called, the opportunities would start to dry up altogether.

Sometimes it was school related. Anyone under Nani’s roof had to be employed or educated. She'd never let Ma distract Sevika from homework and final exams if she could help it. 

Often, it was money. Amma usually didn’t have a car. Sometimes she had debts to pay off. If she didn’t have the cash for the ticket back, Sevika couldn't see her. Nani and Ma always refused to ask Baba—or anyone else for that matter— for any handouts beyond what was already agreed on through the courts. He had a new baby to take care of after all.

Something always came up—that is life. 

Sevika learned to roll with it at this point. She fully expected not to catch wind of Ma until graduation. Yet, she was here— that man just happened to be attached. It was whatever. Sevika didn’t care—she didn’t, she was happy her Ma was there for her birthday. 

Sevika fell silent while Mel busied herself with making herself more comfortable. The stifling heat finally becoming unbearably in their cozy castle. She moved to take off the hoodie, the zipper getting stuck, “Well, you might have to get used to him,” she mused, tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth as she jimmied the zipper free, “She looks pretty happy.” 

“It won’t last,” Sevika did a double take, eyes dropping, “Is that my shirt?”

It most definitely was Sevika’s shirt. She'd cropped that old band t-shirt so short, it couldn’t see the light of day until she hit college. On Mel, it was almost a reasonable length. However the neckline was far too stretched out, slipping down her shoulder at the slightest movement. 

Reaching up, Mel untucked her braids from the shirt, the bottom of the shirt rising up. Smooth, nearly unblemished skin, that had hardly been nicked, bled, or burned. The only exception was the small, hyper-pigmented bump on her stomach. The keloid formed after Mel tried to give herself a belly-button piercing after a dance competition.

Overall, Mel was unreasonably lucky. It usually made Sevika self-conscious about her own scars, but today it gave her pause for an entirely different reason. Her eyes unable to decide where to land as Mel continued to speak, “Who knows? She says he’s ‘the one’. You might end up with a  step-daddy,” she countered, voice dropping into a dramatic whisper. She grabbed a pillow slumping back with a yawn, shirt riding up even more. 

For her peace of mind, Sevika decided her laundry basket was the safest place to look in her room. She choked out a laugh, “People only say shit like that to get laid,” she said, waving her off, smoke trailing after.

“No, they don’t," Mel said, frowning. Mood souring comically fast.

Sevika raised an eyebrow, “Did I hit a nerve?”

Mel opened her mouth, then closed it. “No,” she said, avoiding eye-contact as she played with a braid, “But you shouldn’t assume…Sometimes you find someone who just clicks with you, y’know. ” 

“By some people, do you mean that Jay kid?” Sevika questioned. Somehow, she was unsurprised and—completely thrown by this development. In theory, she knew Mel had a crush. She knew the two had been calling each other a lot. Mel even stopped sharing all of her diary sketches. Still, she’d never thought it’d go anywhere, “Is she your girlfriend now?” 

“Nooo,” Mel weakly replied, now unraveling the bottom of her braid. Face hidden, but she could feel her beaming. Gooey all over. The more she spoke, the more her heart shone through, “Not yet, but we’re working on it. Her dad's a nightmare so we’re holding off on making it official until after we get our admission letters back.” Briefly, she hesitated, before adding, ”We’re both applying to The Bolbok Institute."

That got Sevika’s attention. She’d been wondering why Mel decided to apply to the institute. After all, earlier that year, Mel had written the program off all together because of their lack of Fine Arts courses. She didn’t expect this to be the reason why. She didn’t know how to feel about it. 

“Y’all sound pretty serious,” Sevika notes, making no moves to disguise her scrutiny. They were moving rather quickly. Then again, Sevika didn’t have much room to judge considering her own track record. That didn’t stop her at all from judging. The whole thing made her uneasy the more she thought about it, but she couldn’t figure out why. Mel didn’t refute her observation, falling quiet, anticipating their next question, "But, the institute is competitive. What if you don’t get in?”

Mel took a moment to think the question over, but the answer came easy, “It's not a big deal if I don’t get in,” she said, calmly. Eyes following the the cracks in the ceiling, “It’ll suck, sure, but we can work through it. I’ll be  applying to other schools in the area. I’m even willing to try long-distance.” 

Sevika felt like a bottomless pit of despair. Even the possibility that this—this relationship— was here for the long-term gave her a disproportionate, knee-jerk reaction of pure disgust. The girl involved was pretty harmless, so it didn't make sense. It was like hating a hamster. She tried to hide her reaction, but it bled through, “And you think she’s worth it?” she challenged before she could stop herself. 

At that, Mel stopped fiddling with her braid. She tilted her head from one side to the other, “Love is always worth the effort,” she said, slow and unflinching. The vulnerability enough to make your teeth ache.  

Sevika didn’t have anything to say to that. She took another drag from her blunt, averting her eyes. Ignoring how a slight tremor worked its way through her hands. 

-

Smoke trails escaped the room through the open window. The long night finally winding down. Raindrops hit the window sill, a tapping drum, an unhurried lullaby.

Sprawled out on a toppling throne of sheets, pillows, and blankets, she'd found peace at last. Sevika stared at the ceiling in a daze, the glow in the dark stars winking back. Everything soft, muffled, and sweet smelling. The music playing, but it was blissfully distant. The world couldn't touch her here.

Sevika might’ve overdone it to be honest, but she was too out of it to care. A combination of a yawn, a hiccup, and a laugh escaping as she tried to articulate a thought, "I can see…" she squinted up at her friend, chewing on her words for a second longer. She lost her train of thought briefly as a hand passed through her hair. Nails dragging pleasantly against her scalp, "I can see you—you." Mel was very pretty in this light. In any light, really, but that wasn't her point, "I can see you having at least…twelve kids," she decided, nodding to herself.

The hands stopped short. Sevika mourned the loss. Mel looked down at her, dumbfounded, "Twelve?" she repeated, incredulous. As if her body rejected the concept, her chest jumped from a sudden, aggressive cough. She swallowed thick, shaking her head, "Gods, no. No. No kids," she insisted.

It wasn't like she disliked children at all, but that certainly didn't mean she wanted to raise them—and she definitely didn't want to give birth to them naturally. Keeping herself alive was hard enough. She can't fathom being responsible for someone else life—let alone twelve.

It had to be a joke, but Sevika wasn't letting up on the bit for a second. She tilted her head, feigning innocence, almost sliding off of Mel's lap—and the bed, "I thought you wanted a big family?" she teased.

Mel pinched the bridge of their nose, not amused at all, “I want to marry into a big family, not make one,” she said, only getting a dismissive grunt in response. Sevika had moved on from the topic all-together, reaching up to where Mel's hand was and silently urging her to continue. She was pleased when Mel immediately obliged. Taking advantage of her captive audience, Mel decided to to detail her extensive life-plan in the process. Undergraduate to Grad school. Painting classes at the community college on the weekends. Ceramics and Glass-blowing during the summer. A slew of restaurants and cuisines she wanted to try. Operas, theaters, and museums she wanted to visit. Countries she wanted to see—to paint—to enjoy. Engagement. Marriage. Private Art show before 25. Closing on her starter home before 30.

There were back-up plans of course, but it seemed like Mel was quite confident in her first plan. She had everything plotted down to the season of each year. It was mildly impressive.

Sevika's life in contrast was separated into relatively distinct sections.

Getting into Law-school.

Graduating from Law-school.

Paying off Law school.

Die.

She liked Mel's plan a little better. It seemed more fleshed out, human. Like there were little stops along the way she could look forward to that didn't involve what was sitting in her bank account.

Letting out a relieved sigh at the touch, Sevika's eyes stuttering close as she listened. She could listen to that voice forever. She must've nodded off at some point, but she wasn't sure how much time had past—only that the rain had stopped. Mel was braiding small sections of Sevika's hair. Awake, but tired. Always tired. Those dark circles smudging the lingering good feelings, the room suddenly cold.

Sevika briefly forgot what she planned to say, then remembered—eventually, "…Shouldn't you be heading back?" she asked, hoarse.

The corners of Mel's mouth twitched up, "I missed the last bus, remember?" The light from the flickering streetlamps graced the gentle dips in her face. Lip gloss sparkling. Sweat dotting her temple and collarbone.

Sevika racked her brain, remembering nothing of the sort, "Oh yeah," she said, dumbly. Her tongue probed around her dry mouth. It seemed cavernous. Mouths were strange, but she couldn't stop thinking about them now. Even the word mouth was strange—Mouth. mouuuth. Mowf. "You should stay the night then."

Mel found this extremely funny—for some reason, "Oh, should I?" she echoed. She was mildly entertained that Sevika couldn't remember suggesting the same idea—several times— already. Exhaustion was a hell of a drug, but her friend's desire to be a good host was even stronger. She nodded along to the rest of their sleep-drunk babble until they finally passed out again.

-

[track 18/?] : summer, again. not yet spring.

Early morning light caused her to stir. The scent of last-night’s rain stong. Sticky humidity plastering the sheets to her spine. Legs tangled together, bodies flushed close. It was like she was trapped, hold blistering, but she didn't try to free herself from the grasp. Lips smacking, she stretched out her free arm, the other one sore from where she slept on it.

Sevika nudged at Mel's face. Their eyes remained shut, face twisting up. Sevika persisted, gently shaking her awake, “Mmmel, we gotta get you out of here,” she urged, fighting off a yawn.

Mel grumbled, nose rubbing against her like she was a pillow. She balled up into Sevika's side, sinking in—warm, like spring. Nubby fingers dragging her impossibly closer.

Sighing, Sevika rubbed at the small of Mel's back. She was unable to deny her even this, “Your Mom's gunna kill us,” she rightfully pointed out. It had no bite. The allure of sleep—her touch—her—casting a spell far too strong for her to fight.

And like an amused imp, Mel smiled at that, "What? You scared of her?"

Sevika took a beat too long to answer, "…No." She decidedly ignored her friend's snickering, particularly how it suspiciously started to sound like clucking, "But, you know how she gets—"

Mel was relatively unbothered, legs squeezing her tighter, "She always gets up later after drinking with Grayson. We're fine," she explained, the roughness of her voice prickling pleasantly, "I'll be back before she finishes her morning run."

"I dunno…"

"Just five more minutes," Mel pleaded, eyes fluttering open, bottom lip sticking out, "Please?"

Sevika fell silent.

Mel accepted her victory, somehow snuggling even closer.

-

Five to ten—ten to twenty minutes passed. The morning slipped away from them like free flowing water running past their fingertips. Somewhere in the kitchen, water was being poured into a kettle, the stove heating up with a click. Party-goers slowly picking themselves up to grab breakfast or head out to catch their ride.

Within the four walls of her room, everything was still.

Winding, tangled, inseparable. Bodies and voices with no beginning or end. They never wanted to leave. Not quite falling back to sleep, but comfortably dozing in each other's arms.

Lazy whispers being passed back and forth. Nonsensical questions and irrelevant observations being indulgently shared. Talking about everything—and nothing at all. Their quiet symphony littered with giggles, shushing each other when they accidentally got too loud.

“So…” Mel started, dragging the sound out so it sizzled. Sevika hummed, barely paying attention. She was perfectly distracted. She traced the dark lines in the palm of Mel's hand. Little rivers flowing into one-another. Wearing down at the bright, rolling fields as they always did, “How does your first day as an adult feel like?” she asked. Light dusted the round of her cheek, fuzzy and warm. Her fingers curled around Sevika's hand, cautious as she interlocked their fingers.

“Am I supposed to feel different?”

She did feel different. She doesn’t think her age had anything to do with this development. It was as if something had finally settled in her chest, taking up the space that was always set aside for it.

Mel didn't respond to that, searching her face for the answer. Sevika made no moves to fill the silence. Neither unable or willing to look away. Outside those four walls, the kettle whistled nosily, demanding attention. Cars started up, alarms went off, trash cans banging, trucks beeping. Hands still intertwined, they squeezed her more firmly. Sheets rustling, gravity shifting. As if each tentative breath only drew them closer. Outside, the birds were chirping, the squirrels chasing each other up trees, rats escaping to the alleys once more. Someone slammed their car door shut. Voices in the street. People—they were surrounded by people, but as far as she was concerned, they were the only ones left on earth. They were the only ones that mattered.

That—is not how life works.

A door was yanked over, then slammed. Then yanked open once again. Sharp voices filling that little house. Jabbing, pushing, demanding attention. The voices, the people, shaking the floorboards and knocking picture frames sideways.

"You can't—" Muffled, then not. Ma's voice ran together, hot. It flooded the room as the lock broke and the door slammed opened, "What is wrong with you—fucking—You can't barge into people's homes! Do you know what time it is—"

"Does it matter?" Dr. Medarda scoffed. Mel stiffened at their side, mouth falling open, "I'm telling you my daughter is in here. Move."

"And I'm telling you she's not—" Ma stopped short as she looked over her shoulder, eyes landing on the girl in question. Suprise stopping her short.

Dr. Medarda shoved past.

You'd expect more anger—yelling and such, but the silence was damning. A solid glare that had the teens skittering away from each other. Sevika falling on her ass. Mel snatching up the blankets to cover herself up, to shield herself some of the shame, but the weight was still there. She put on a brave face, refusing to look away. Shaky, slow breaths. She stared up at her mother.

Her mother stared back.

Mel opened her mouth to break the ice— explain herself— smooth it over, but she wasn't given the chance. Dr. Medarda turned on her heel, "Get up—and get dressed," she hissed, low, leaving no room for argument, "We're leaving."

That reaction seemed to hit harder then any other possible scenario. Mel scrambled up, frustration bleeding everywhere. She rushed to follow like a kicked puppy desperate for home, "Wait—Mama," bare-footed, steps thwaping against the floorboards as she ran down the hall, "Mama, let me explain—"

It’s been awhile since the Medarda’s lived next door. They didn't leave behind much, but nearly everyone on the street could remember that family. Everyone's heard an argument from that house—thin walls and such. You could expect a show at any time of day or night. The only difference now was that the parties involved had changed.

Mother and son—now Mother and daughter.

Sevika steered clear from the mess, but she's sure everyone could hear them now. ,

“Why can’t you listen to me for once,” Mel huffed, cutting in front of her Mom. Arms spread in dramatic fashion, blocking the hall.

Dr. Medarda was unphased, sidestepping her and not looking back, "What? So you can turn around and lie to me again?”

Heated, Mel was close on her heel, protesting the entire way, “I never lied. I did exactly what we agreed to-" she insisted, feeling raw all over, "You're the one who changed your mind last minute. You won't even compromise, its so stupid—"

Ambessa glanced back, lips pressed thin, "I'm keeping you safe."

Mel looked around, wild, "I grew up here—I always stay the night! I'm perfectly safe here," she said, looking ready to pull out her hair, "Look, I was here all night and nothing happened. I'm fine."

"But if you had—" Dr. Medarda sucked at her teeth, nostrils flaring as she exhaled sharp. She lowered her voice again, keeping her tone careful as she glanced about. Most of the party goers had left, but not all, "We are not having this conversation here."

"Oh? So its a conversation now?" Mel challenged, crossing her arms and planting herself firmly.

Ambessa willed patience to find her, but it had lost its way. She pinched at her nose, muttering to herself. Cursing her proclivity for men with heads as hard as rock and the diamonds they left behind for her to raise.

The hard-headed child in question, kept on, "—Cause if we we're having a conversation, you'd actually be listening to me," she yelped, jumping out the way as the bathroom door opened to her left. She froze as Reese stepped out, wet hair shaking everywhere. She tugged the hoodie around her closed, self-conscious.

Reese grinned easy, "Easy there, mama," he said to Mel with a wink, readjusting the towel around his waist. Then he cast a cursory glance around, finding his girlfriend Meena still standing, struck, in Sevika's door, "What's all the hubbub, babe?"

Meena shook her head, silently gesturing for him to stay out of it.

Reese didn't listen—or maybe he didn't notice. He was fairly hard to read, eyes perpetually stuck in an unbothered daze, "Oh—ohhh, I get it," he drawled, scratching his side, "Parents amiright," he said, elbowing Mel—who politely stepped away. He didn't seem to notice her discomfort, turning to address Ambessa, "Y'know, you shouldn't be so hard on her, kids will be kids. If youse push to hard, you might break your connection. I was anointed by grandfather-baba Craig down in New Mexico, so I'm technically certified in reunification and bonding rituals. I could give you a discount if you're—"

"Stop. Speaking. " Ambessa held up a hand, mouth pinched, sour. She was steaming, finally reaching her limit. She crossed over, putting herself between Mel and Reese and guiding the girl promptly towards the door, nearly knocking the man on his ass.

"Chill, Ma—"

Meena was on the move, "Watch it—!" she said, steadying her boyfriend. Concern flickered across her face, anger fresh on its tail, "He was only offering advice, don't be such a cunt," she shouted at Ambessa's back.

"It's none of his business—"

"You barged into our home, insult our family—yes, its our business, " Meena snapped back, storming over. Chin lifting to meet her eyes, not intimated by how the woman towered over here, "Fuck, at this point its everyone's business. If you don't calm your ass down you'll end up chasing her off like your son—" she stopped short, guilt flashing across her face, but it was already too late.

Ambessa stood in the doorway, deathly still. Everything lurching to a halt.

Mel looked nervously between the two women, breaking that fragile silence, "…Mama she didn't mean—"

"Get in the car," Ambessa cut her off, voice barely a whisper.

Seeing the look in her mother's eyes, Mel complied immediately.

Expression narrowing, Ambessa finally looked at the other woman, sneering, "You want to give me parenting advice? You?" she turned to the left, then the right, gesturing to the state of the home, "Your pathetic. A waste of damn space, playing house for a week—or two. Then you get bored and go off to do god-knows-what for the rest of the year. Acting like a teenager while your mother's been carrying this household for forty-plus-years. And you want to give me advice? You want to judge me?" Every time you thought she'd stop, she kept going. The hammer slamming each nail harder then the last. Meena couldn't move. From her job, to her clothes, to her education—everything torn apart. Grinded into a fine, patronizing paste. Taking each blow as it come, speechless. Hands shaking at her side as Ambessa finally spat, "Can you even call yourself a mother? You don't even have custody of your damn kid," she scoffed, turning away dismissively.

Meena bristled, curse on her tongue. Body ready to follow the other woman into the yard, to tear her a new one too, but she was stopped. A firm grip on her shoulder, holding her back.

Nani materialized at her side, finally woken up by the ruckus. She could always sense when her daughter was about to blow a fuse, “Don’t,” she said with a warning tone,“It's too early for this.” 

Meena turned towards her mother, incredulous, "Didn't you hear what she said?"

"It's too early," Nani repeated, ushering her away from the door.

"I don't care—I don't care," Meena ran a hand through her hair, voice pitching, "That woman—ugh. The courts cut her a fat check and now she thinks she can treat us like dirt?" she said, growing angrier the more she thought about. Not everybody on this damn street got out alive. Not everybody had a fancy degree or connections, but that lady still somehow got all that— and even more. Why was she so lucky? Even when she was slumming it, she acted like she was better then them all. "You've watched her kids for years. We've literally put food in her babies mouths, but I bet she doesn't give a damn about mine now that she's sucking off the polls. Can we even trust her around Sevika? Have you seen her campaign—I should've known she wasn't shit—"

"Quiet down, its too early—"

This didn't nothing to calm Meena down, wild eyed, "All of that and you're only worried about the noise?"

Meena shouldn't be surprised.

It was the same way growing up. She was the only daughter—and looked the most like her daddy in all the ways that mattered. Skin that tanned a little too dark, hair that could never lay flat. She was the one who got the most shit for her looks. People on both sides of the racial aisle treating her like she was the defacto servant. Her Ma saw none of it at the time—how could she? She practically was raising football team by herself most days. But, she still held a crumb of doubt. Sometimes she didn't feel invisible—she felt overlooked. Like another mess no one wanted to clean.

Meena would come home limping from the neighborhood girls. She'd get scolded— for causing a fuss, for kicking, for biting, for her hair looking a mess, for being too noisy, too crude— even if her brother's moved the same way. It was no wonder she left as soon as she could. She wanted to live freely—she's been lucky to get this close to it. It was a wonder she ever came back, but time could surprise you in that way. When she was in her darkest hour—that's when she needed her Ma the most. That's when she fought the hardest to stay away. And now she was here again—and again. The two were still standing—still hurting. It was surprisingly easy how those old wounds sprung back up.

Nani inhaled, taking a moment to reassess, but she refuse to waver, “I don’t care about the noise,” she said, pressing her lips thin. Hands smoothing her daughter's arms as she spoke, “I care about you not making an ass of yourself,” she gritted out. Her eyes cut to the side, down the hall to where a dumbstruck Sevika stood still stood in her doorway—lost.

Understanding dawned over Meena. She tried to calm her breaths, biting back that never ending wave of frustration. Reese came to her side, rubbing her shoulders. She exhaled, sending him a grateful smile.

Turning away, Nani went to address the other elephant in the room. Slow shuffling steps. Arms folding as she stood in front of Sevika, eyeing her with a disapproving frown, “You snuck a girl into my house?”

Sevika froze, blinking back into reality. Panic— heart dropping off that cliff, a fast sinking anchor that threatened to yank her over, “Uh, um,” she slowly inched back into her room, eyes darting to find her mother, but finding her occupied, “It was—it was just Mel," she said under her breath, averting her eyes.

Nani squinted at her, “So you snuck a pretty girl into my house?” she corrected, raising an eyebrow.

“I—well,” Sevika swallowed, hot and flustered for some reason, “It's just, well. It was just Mel—nothing happened.” 

Nothing happened. Nothing will happen. It was a misunderstanding. Emotions were running high. People were assuming a lot. Whatever she's feeling now will go away soon enough.

But—

Did she want something to happen? The answer was damning, curling her toes and leaving her short of breath.

Thankfully, she didn't have to deal with this revelation while being chewed out.

The phone rang.

It kept ringing. The noise never stopped. Nani sent her a warning glare, muttering something about going to temple, promising to discuss this further. She left to answer the phone. Sevika leaned against the frame of her door, repeatedly knocking her head against the wood to force her heart to restart. Getting itchy the longer she waited.

Sevika didn't have to wait too long.

Nani called her name—then her Ma, voice breaking.

-

Mel's fingers dug into flesh, leaving behind crescent moon imprints.

That unrelenting grip trembled. She tried to hold it all in, keep herself together. Tighter and tighter. Tamping everything down. Squeezing, swallowing the ire thick in her throat. All so the sweet little girl could return. Seen, but not heard.

Her mother glanced back at the rear-view  mirror.

Mel glared back—anger deafening.

Ambessa looked away immediately. Eyes returning to the road, perfectly content to let them silence fester. Car pungent with what was on the horizon.

She’s done this before. She's made a career of dealing with teenagers, but it was easier when they were other people's children. The distance provided clarity without the usual hangups, memories, and missteps that came with familiarity.

Somewhat green eyes. Stubborn with a mouth to match.

Mel reminded her so much of—

In the driver’s seat, Grayson cleared her throat. She adjusted her grip on the steering wheel, looking worse for wear. She was practically dragged out of bed. Sporting too-tight sweat pants and a hoodie she found in the back of Ambessa's closet. The front zipped up enough to hide the sports bra underneath. Hair falling in front of her face, graying at the temples. A pale scar snaking up the prominent bridge of her nose and curve of her cheek. Ghostly white against her olive skin. The sun making the difference all the more clear as they drove over the bridge, dark waters sparkling far below.

Grayson cleared her throat again. Ambessa snapped out of it. Her companion's expression was painfully neutral, eyes boring ahead, but it was clear what she was attempting to convey.

Grayson always had a nose for trouble. It was notably less attractive outside of the bedroom, but for once Ambessa was inclined to agree. There was no tip-toeing around this situation.

“I know you hate me right now,” Ambessa said. She closed her eyes briefly, weight settling against the car door, body swaying. The low purr of the engine, the smell of summer hot in her nostrils, burning, “I don’t care though, do you know why?” 

Mel grumbled unintelligibly in the back. It was endearing in a way, but not particularly useful for the purposes of this discussion.

Ambessa pretended not to hear, fingers drumming against the side door, “Remember the bill I told you to read up on last week?" At that, she could see recognition flicker in Mel's eyes. Good. "Our good Mayor Salo found a way to bypass the council altogether. He snuck it in with the expansion of emergency services. Last night, it fully went into effect. "

She was mildly impressed he even had the balls to do it. Last week he nearly shat himself when the usual group of protesters found him at brunch. Now he was strong arming his way through the government with no regard for how it looked. Possibly a new donor? Maybe the pigs upped their pay? Or maybe he was finally feeling the heat. Most recent polls placed him neck and neck with her campaign.

Regardless, it was rather inconvenient—dangerous even—that he was taking such strong action now.

At the end of the day—she still had a Black daughter to raise. After the school burned down, it was theorized that a student was responsible. Nothing was confirmed to the public, but that was what the public believed. An unfortunate side-effect was that it made all students southside a suspect. And the students south of the bridge, more often then not, were a certain complexion.

"The Juvenile Curfew has been on the books for awhile, but now its been expanded—with the resources to be fully enforced. Several zones were set up in the southern and eastern with districts with increased patrolling and check-points," Ambessa rattled off with ease, careful to keep the facts far away from her heart.

Anyone underage, any group that involved three or more persons, anyone determined to be unruly or unwanted. All had a target on their backs. All could be corralled like cattle, searched, and detained if they broke curfew. Some exceptions applied. Working students. Good students running errands and such, but most enforcers weren't inclined to care about that in the moment. Salo's campaign relied on continuing to produce results. He needed to meet his quotas.

"Apparently there was an altercation at the docks. A few minors were detained—others hospitalized," Ambessa explained, carefully watching her daughter's expression as she revealed the rest of the information, "I believe one of Mrs. Pierre's daughters was apart of the group—the oldest one," And the most annoying one by far. Bright girl, but she was always causing a fuss about something. Bull-horns, complaining, campaigning, and knocking on doors type. Her parents always allowed it, much to her detriment. It was only a matter of time before it bit her in the ass, but it wasn't the time to air out her own personal grievances. "She's lucky her dad's a lawyer, so he knew how to find her when it happened. Other parents didn't even know their children were being detained until this morning, "

Until she got the call from Mrs. Pierre, she wouldn't have even thought to check Mel's room. Her daughter had never snuck out before, but of course the one time she did—it was on the worst possible night.

It was frightful seeing the reality of the situation sink into Mel. As if she was seeing that last shred of childhood be snatched away.

"That…that isn't right—that doesn't even make any sense, " Mel said, still in a daze as she processed this. Hands twitching in her lap. Turning the story over in her head, unable to stop. Yesterday, everything was fine, so why was everything so wrong now?

Ambessa didn't respond to that.

There was no point in agreeing or disagreeing. She's learned by now to simply accept life for what it was—shit. It has always been that way, it will always be that way. Soon enough, Mel will understand that, but until then, "There's no point in trying to reason with it. It is the law, we will follow it," she said, switching topics before they got trapped in that useless spiral. Recounting the words like the back of her hand, hearing his voice even now, "How we look, the work we do, the people we surround ourselves with—that's all that matters. Focus on that," she continued, making each word clear, "As such, I don't want you to cross that bridge anymore," Mel's head snapped up at that, but Ambessa continued, sharp, "It is not safe. I will not put your future at risk. I don't want you seen there, I don't want to hear about you being there. I don't want you spending the night at that house—or any house over there. We will not get caught up in that mess, do you understand me?"

Mel ‘s shoulder’s shrank, curling into herself. Body swaying listless with the car. The winding roads sending her left, then right, then left again—like a seed fluttering in the wind.

Her hands fiddled with the edge of the hoodie she had grabbed off of Sevika's dresser by mistake. Thinking about Sevika. Thinking about her friends. Thinking about the mess she made. She scared her mom. She caused unnecessary trouble for the Maharaj family. She could've been hurt, detained—worse. When she was sleeping—dreaming someone was having the worst day of their life. Her decision made sense in the moment, but now she wasn't sure what to think at all. That conviction slipping from her grasp, words as useless as she felt.

Mel swallowed the knot in her throat, head hanging low. She boxed those feelings up and packed it all away again. The gates to her neighborhood opened, then closed. She was resigned to her fate.

-

“Can it be that I am dying /  after all / even though I am happy/ and you say you [....] me?”

                                                                                                                                                         — Alice Walker, Can it Be? 

-

[track: 18/?] : and here it is like always, spring. again.

It was never her intention to hold a grudge against Jayce.

She'd always expected to forgive her. It was inevitable. She's planned so much of her future around their relationship, it was difficult to envision any other outcome. However, the taste of it was far more bitter then anticipated.

Mel always thought that if she held on tight, all will be well in the end. She craved hope more then anything. Flicking through pages and pages, eager to finally get to that happy ending. In those stories, it always got better no matter how bleak the circumstance. Impossible—but at their side, she was somewhat confident in that impossibility becoming a reality. Jay could dream big enough for the whole city. It was admirable. You couldn't help but fall. Mel could see the etchings of a happy life every time Jay smiled. She could finally feel the sun touch her face. She never intended to let that go. Everything would realign with time. She 'd be ready for when it finally happens.

That was what she believed.

It was easy to hold onto that the first week. Maybe even the first month.

It had been months.

Mel couldn’t hear a damn thing over how her blood boiled.

Jay stepped forward, arms extended and dark eyes wide, sparkling.

Stepping back, uncertain, “We really shouldn’t, ” Mel said, looking off. The roses clutched painfully close to her heart. She hid her face in their blooms, taking a deep inhale. Her smile slowly faded.

Jay stilled, her fingertips twitching. She was desperate to close the distance but refrained, “Mel," she said, heart dropping when they refused to look her way, again, “Mel, I can't stand living without you. I lo—" The confession was static in Mel's ears.

Mel was sick all over, grimacing. She tried to soften the corners of her mouth into a smile, smoothing her words, smoothing herself, but everything about this felt—wrong. She didn’t understand why. Didn’t she want to get back together? Were they even together at the time? Did she even know what she wanted? Indecisive even now—even after all of that. Standing in the mirror, unable to choose anything because she couldn't even stand looking at herself.  

Another step forward. Another step back. Mel retreated into herself, finding nothing but nerves, “When did you decide that?” she blurted out.

“…What?"

“When did you decide that you loved me?” Mel repeated slowly, the question prodding at a sore spot she hadn't even realized was there. All this attention. The dramatics—the lights, the flowers, the crowd, and the confession. It bothered her and now she knew why, “Was it before or after you got off the waitlist?”

Jay blanched, visibly confused, “I don’t—? Does it matter?”

Mel's forehead creased, dejected, “It matters to me," she said. The paper crinkled as she hugged the bouquet tighter. She's replayed that day in her head many times. How Jay crumpled the admission letter and wouldn't meet Mel's eyes at first. When she finally did, it was as if a faucet broke—and blew up in her face. Mel left. She refused to stand there and take it, but she soon found that there was a worse way to end a relationship then a few nasty words, "You dissapeared. You wouldn't speak to me for months. I spent every day trying to figure out what I did wrong."

And part of her is still trying to make sense of what happened.

Maybe Mel misread the room. Maybe she came off as dismissive, trying to smoothe over the rejection when they were still raw from it—still hurting. At the institute, the engineering program was far more competitive then any other field of study. It wasn't an outright rejection, it was the wait-list. It wasn't rejection, but for many it was. There was still a chance, but Jayce wasn't willing to hear any of that. There was no other options. That was her dream school—her escape. Everything else felt like a consolation prize.

Even with this hindsight, it didn't justify her reaction. It changed everything. Mel never thought they could be so mean. She's worked as hard as anyone else. They don't get to disregard that because they were hurting. She was willing to do anything to make it work, but they wouldn't even give her the time of day to have a conversation.

Mel cleared her throat, squeezing tighter, "I thought you hated me."

“I’d never hate you—"

This pushed Mel past her limits, “How… am I suppose to know that?" she interjected, voice cracking. Eyes pleading for them to understand, "I gave you space. I gave you time—the entire time, I thought you hated me." she stressed, turning on her heel as she paced the length of the bathroom, smoke practically shooting from the sides of her ears, "But now that your good—we're good? Now you want to try again. You want to apologize? Now? Now you want me?" she scoffed, shaking her head at the thought, "No, I—I can't do this."

Always the second thought. Always on the back burner. Left behind. Always waiting for someone to feel the same. She was getting sick of it all. Before they could speak again, she pressed the bouquet back into their hands as she passed, firm. Nearly knocking them off their feet.

Eyes watering, she stepped outside the bathroom. Rubbing her arms, she looked to the left— then the right. She couldn't even manage to be dissapointed. No one was there, so she went searching.

Mel should've left it alone. She shouldn't be surprised by what she found. She should've expected it, but it still hurt. It fucking hurt.

Sevika dissapearing around the corner, ducking into an empty classroom—another girl at her side.

-

It all looked small from up there.

Darkness blanketed the sky, giving her some shred of solitude in it's embrace. Alone in every way that mattered.

Sevika's thoughts churned, relentless. Dragging across her spirit with an ever-pressing defeat.

Yet, even in her self-contained misery, noise broke through.

Voices— laughs and jeers filtered in from from the parking lot. Flashing car lights that blinked like earthbound stars, rubber burning as they wheeled away. Air wet, heavy with the threat of rain that never came. 

And even if Sevika couldn’t hear it, she knew music was playing somewhere. Mel was somewhere else—and Sevika was here again. 

Fingernails bitten down to raw numbs. She ran her hands over the metal barriers, unphased by the cold. The bag digging into her shoulders and knocking uncomfortably at her hip.

Wave after wave. It slammed into her strong, only getting stronger. That need—that inexplicable desire hunted her even as she chose to walk away from it.

Sevika chose not to confess. She wouldn't do it, yet it still hurt. The loss eating at her insides. 

It was silly to get so hung up on it . She had bigger issues, problems that ate away at her wallet faster then she could fill it. That dragged mud into her house and burned holes into the back of her neck when she walked outside at the wrong time.

When she set it alongside everything else going on in her life, it was small. It infected everything. She couldn't ignore it no matter how hard she tried to hide the pea under the stacks of mattresses. She hated herself for it.

Tonight could be one of the last few nights before graduation—before she moved away for summer training—where they would all be together and have fun. Instead, she's alone, catching an attitude over someone she wasn't even dating. It was pathetic, childish, and she didn't care. She wanted to lick her wounds in peace, thank you very much. Fuck the dance, fuck this night, and fuck everything—

 “If you keep that up, you’ll end up hurting yourself," An all-too familiar voice said, cutting through the noise.

Sevika nearly flew out her skin, hands unclenching. On a swivel, her head jerked around. They jumped a second time seeing how close Elora was standing next to them.

Elora stared over the metal barrier, impassive, but her appearance was notably ruffled. A single strand fell limply against her forehead, slick against her skin from sweat. Blazer gone, tie loosened, sleeves bunched up to her elbows, the front of her shirt covered in unidentifiable stains. 

Confusion overwrote every other feeling. Sevika squinted into the dark, concerned, “The fuck happened to you?”

Elora contemplated the question, eyes darting down to asses the damage herself, "Oh, hm. Well, someone hijacked the spotlights for a stunt, so lights needed help setting everything back up,” she started off, lifting her other hand to show off the thickly padded gloves she was carrying, “Then the D.J booth needed new speakers—and I was the only one with the key, so I assisted with that. Then they were asking for people to stay later to strike because the basketball team needed the space tomorrow morning, but I didn't want to do that. The gym is too loud right now, so I decided to hide up here until we can go to the bonfire,” she finished off, finally taking a breath. Pushing the singular strand of hair out of her face, she gestured towards them,“Why is your face like that?”

Sevika's face fell flat, hella irritated,“Piss off.”

Blinking once, then twice, Elora tilted her head, "It wasn't a dig. I was asking," she clarified, studying her with an uncomfortable intensity. Big eyed, bug. Speaking to her with a softness that was entirely unearned and unwelcomed.

In the face of that, she deflated. Sevika kinda felt like a dickhead now. She shifted her weight between her feet to relieve the burgeoning ache at her soles,“I’m fine."

“Is this about Mel?”.

“Wha—” Sevika stiffened, surprised, “No, "she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck, “….Why do you ask?”

This only confirmed Elora's suspicions. She nodded to herself, “You always get like that when you like someone.”

This was particularly offensive since the last time Sevika cried over a girl was because her favorite Power Ranger left the show.

“...I don’t,” Sevika closed her mouth, thinking about her next words carefully, “If you tell Mel, I’ll throw you off the roof.” 

The corners of Elora’s mouth lifted slow, a cautiously earned victory, “So you do like Mel?”

Sevika belatedly realized she took the bait, “You didn’t know?” 

“Well, now I do,” Elora admitted, looking quite pleased that it worked. 

“Great,” Sevika said, full body slumping against the railing like she was one of the inflatable wiggly-wiggly-mans. Misery pouring miserably from her as she returned to brooding. She was making decent progress, imagining an elderly version of herself doing a sad walk around a particularly dirty nursing home, but her fantasy stalled. Senses prickling, she glanced up catching Elora’s extended hand hovering over her shoulder. Inches away, but not making any contact, “What is happening right now?”

Pink dusted across Elora's nose, “I wanted to comfort you, but my hands are dirty,” she confessed, sheepish.

“....Thanks,”  Sevika said, still eyeing the hand warily, “You can…stop that.”

Elora complied immediately, relieved. She folded her arms, leaning against the railing, “I really won’t tell her,” she promised. Forehead creasing a smidgen, she hesitated, “I don't tell Mel everything.”

Sevika's knee-jerk response was to call bullshit, but she didn't. The admission was relatively simple, but it felt painfully vulnerable in a way that she immediately recognized. A shared guilt, a familiar shame, all of which fed the mutual understanding that passed between them.

“It’s not like it matters,” Sevika said, waving her off and moving on from that quickly, “She’s off somewhere, color coding wedding venues with Jay.”

Elora paused for a second, processing this newfound information. She put together a new plan of action, “...No she isn’t?” she lied, smoothly, not missing the beat. Eyebrows pushing together, she blinked as if confused, “I saw Jayce leave out awhile ago—by herself.”

Sevika took that in. A slow moving train that hit heavy, eyes slowly widening. She's been up here for good while—fuck, “Oh. I've got to—I've gotta go—” she said, feet picking up the pace as she rushed off to the stairwell.

Waving at Sevika's back, Elora sighed. This was far more work then she imagined. Reaching into the pocket of her trousers, she retrieved a handkerchief. She made no moves to clean herself up yet, thumb rubbing against the embroidered flowers decorating the border. Messy handiwork, but she cherished the gift all the same. The wind picked up, loose strands of hair tickling her face. She peered over the edge.

Elora couldn't count the stars from here. She settled for counting the passing cars far, far below.

-

On the left-side of her shoes, the soles were worn down.

The sides of her feet were stuck in a perpetual lean. Stretching the material, aching from the pressure. She ignored it. Sweat prickled, the heat of the gym making her clothes stick like a second skin. Somehow, she felt too big, yet entirely too small for her body. She ignored it. The lights were too bright, the music far too loud. Bodies, bodies, bodies of students stepping into her path and bumping into her as she tried to squeeze past. Distracted, she couldn’t muster up the energy to snap at them to get out the way. She was far too busy searching—scanning the crowd and their faces. 

Stumbling out of the gym into the parking lot, the bag hit her hip every other step. Rows and rows of shiny cars and the street lamps blinking far above—mocking.

Sevika squinted into the dark. A tepid rain obscured her sight further. The droplets hit her nose and rolled down the creases in her cheeks. She picked up speed, catching sight of familiar figure crossing the parking lot, “Mel—!” she called out, shoes sliding as she scrambled to catch up. She was either unheard or ignored. She made a beeline for them, “Mel—fuck, ” she flinched, startled as a behemoth of a truck pulled out of a parking space. It jerked to a stop, the freak inside laying on the horn and gesturing for her to move. She flipped them off, darting out the way, “Mel, Mel—Amel wait—” She grasped her hand, pleading. 

Maybe it was the government name, maybe it was the contact. Mel finally stopped in her tracks. Her head whipped around, braids falling around her face, one getting stuck in the corner of her mouth. She huffed, spitting it away. Eyes wild, anger solid. Her hand clenching her skirt to prevent herself from tripping. Grip so tight she might rip the fabric.

“Where are you going?” Sevika asked, caught off guard at the sight. Body on edge for more then one reason.

At that Mel’s eyes narrowed, jaw ticking, “Why do you care?”

“—Why wouldn’t I?” 

This only seemed to grate on Mel's nerves further, rolling her eyes, “I dunno,” she said, suspiciously chipper in tone, “You sort of ditched me for—” she tapped her chin, contemplating, “Actually, I don’t know her name. You should introduce us sometime.”

At that, Sevika's face scrunched. Confused, then not, "Oh, you mean—"

Mel threw her hands up, cutting her off, “Don't—tell me her name. I don’t care, god—” she gasped out, distressed. She held her hands up to her ears. She spun on her heels to walk off right as they tried to speak again. Sevika tailed her, refusing to be shut out, but Mel persistent, “I don’t care—I don’t care," she chanted, tuning them out.

“You clearly—Can't you," Sevika's nostrils flared. She switched from side to side, trying to get them to look at her, failing each time. She let out a frustrated sigh, "For fucks sake Mel, why are you acting like this—"

“I’m not acting like anything, " Mel stubbornly corrected, stopping short as she finally found her parking spot, "I'll be waiting in the car, " she announced, popping her clutch open. She fished through it, searching for her keys and angrily muttering, "And I will not be listening to you wax poetic about some girl's lipstick, or her hair, or her legs when you're suppose to be my date."

That matter-of-fact tone was usually soothing, now it only grated on Sevika’s nerves the longer she kept on with it. Those kitten heels managing to stomp on every single one of her nerves without a second glance back.

And the worst part about it, Sevika wanted Mel to look back again. She wanted it more then anything now. She wanted to be seen—to be heard—to be held. Hands itching, body aching, knowing that she'd be condemned to an eternal cycle of wanting if she didn't walk away now.

Pausing, Sevika's brain finally caught up, processing what Mel unintentionally revealed. A few missing pieces clicking into place. There were probably better ways to handle this information, but she couldn't pretend to be anyone but herself.

Sevika folded her arms, watching Mel fumble with her keys, "Was I suppose to ask for permission when you were off with Jay?" she points out, digging her thumbs into the meat of it all. She was met with silence, but she refused to repeat herself. Mel could pretend all she liked, they knew she was listening, "What?" she scoffed, "You jealous?"

Metal on Asphalt.

Mel's keys dropped unceremoniously to the ground. She blinked, eyes slowly widening. Fingers twitching absently around the empty space. Face crumpling, she retreated into herself. She stared into space, refusing to turn around. Slivers of rain falling past her nose, cold. Bottom lip wobbling. She bit down on it harder, wiping her eyes quick.

Sevika stooped down, collecting the keys herself and unlocking the door to the passenger seat. Propping it open, she gestured for them to sit down. Mel glared up at her. Sevika narrowed her eyes in turn. Eventually, Mel begrudgingly complied.

Sidled up in the seat, Mel hugged herself. She looked like a wet leaf.

Arms bracketing against the roof of the car, Sevika leaned down. Body blocking the entirety of the door, she shrugged off the bag she was lugging around. Pointedly, she it down in Mel's lap.

“…What’s this?” Mel asked, picking at the front of the bag, curious, 

“The camera you asked for,” Sevika explained, bluntly. Getting some shred of satisfaction seeing her guarded demeanor unravel, “Gracie ran into me by chance. She said she could get it to me early if I helped her carry her bags to the classroom."

“....Oh.”

“Yeah.”

With great care, Mel unlatched the front clips, opening the front and confirming its contents. A gleaming camera sitting there, just as promised. Her hands ghosted over it, shoulders hunched. Now she felt like a dickhead. “I may have overacted…sorry.”

Sevika hummed, “Is that how we apologize?” 

Mel sent her a flat look, head knocking against the seat, “I’m not doing the dance.”

It was worth a shot. Sevika leaned in, “Well, do me a favor,” she said, speaking low, “If you want my attention, ask for it. I'm all yours tonight. You can stop with this passive aggressive shit." She chose peace, ignoring Mel's muttering. She pinched her playfully on the cheek with a warning look, "So what happened to Romeo?"

Mel batted their hand away unsuccessfully, pressing her lips together thin, "We talked," she lamely explained, relaxing as their touch became more gentle. Soft against her skin as she spoke, "It didn't….go well."

"That sucks," Sevika offered with no trace of humor.

Somehow, that was worst then teasing.

As if they could see how fragile she felt. Everything about tonight was the worst. All that old hurt lurching up, hungry to break free, frightened to be seen. And Gods…everyone was staring. They expected her to fall over Jay for that romantic gesture. Everyone had seen them leave the gym together. They'd probably know by Monday they weren't actually together. No one else knew about why they fell out. No one knew why she couldn't look at Jay without feeling helplessly small—angry—then small again. She'd be the bitch that turned Jayce down for no reason at all. Then again, that wasn't a stretch from how she was viewed already. She would've preferred the pigs blood. She should've stayed home and avoided everything. Its not like any of this matters. It doesn't matter. She doesn't care.

Tears fell freely down her face. She let Sevika wipe away each one, feeling like a big baby, "This sucks," she agreed, voice breaking into a choked sob. She sniffled, trying to make it stop, but she couldn't at this point.

“Breakups… tend to be like that.”

Mel wiped at her eyes, feeling raw all over, “It's not a break up, we weren’t even together,” she grumbled. That fact agitated her more then anything else. They were never together. They spent all their time together. They stayed up late sharing their dreams and venting about their parents. They snuck out, holding hands by the pier and losing games at the arcade. Not dating though, not yet. They wanted the moment to be special. She wanted to take her time. Plan out something sweet, make a memory out of it. Instead she got a sledgehammer to her heart, iced out for months, and now this? It ended like this?

Sevika sighed at that. Her breath tickled, warmth damped by the scent of rain, “You might feel better if you treat it like it was a breakup,” she suggested gently, “You were close and now you’re not. It won’t be the same and that hurts. You're not doing yourself any favors by pretending it' doesn't." She paused awkwardly to clear her throat. Her own emotions bubbling up, threatening to spill everywhere, “You'll feel better if you let it all out.” 

Mel considered this, eyes tired, “Everything tonight was suppose to be perfect. It's not. And I want to die,” she said in quick succession as if checking off a list. 

At that, Sevika tensed, but she tried not to show it, “Well you can’t,” she said, leaving no room for argument, “Elora will kill us both if I let that happen. Anything else?” 

Mel hummed vaguely at that, eyes shutting as she rubbed her nose against the seat. Sevika wasn’t sure if they looked any better. What did better even look like? Regardless, she knew she didn't want the night to end like this. Unthinking, she let instinct guiding her. Childish habits kicking in. Sevika brushed the hair out of Mel's face, tucking the braid behind her ear as she leaned in. Stupid, fucking butterfly kisses. Eyelashes dusting over one side of Mel's face before moving to do the same to the other side. However, Mel's hands slipped up around her collar. Keeping her close. Close enough that their breaths were one and the same.

Face shiny with tears. Speckling the round of her cheek like morning dew. Mel’s eyes fluttered open. Pretty pretty. The color unknown in the dim light, but the softness remained. Her fingers settled against the nape of Sevika's neck, playing with the short hairs there. A spell that left them in a trance, unable to breathe.

“Y'know….we’re not five anymore,” Mel said under her breath, almost scolding.

Sevika’s heart dropped, fearing the worst, but it never came. 

Mel scooted to the edge of her seat, inhaling. Her mouth moved, voice barely a whisper, but ringing true. Sevika’s whole body blazing to life at her next words, “If you’re going to kiss me, do it properly.”

-

It had finally stopped raining. 

At least, for now. 

Elora pulled the blazer off of her head. She peered up at the sky, slightly relieved.

Maybe they could still go to the bonfire after all?

With an extra pep in her step, she navigated the parking lot easily enough. Sidestepping the students coming and going—and going. Groups were already breaking off from the dance to go to the bonfire, dissapearing into the woods surrounding the school.

Scanning the parking lot, she spotted Mel’s car easily enough. For a split second, she thought she saw Mel too, but by the time she got over there she didn’t see any signs of life. 

Frowning, she studied the car. It was still running. She circled the car to the other side. She jumped, startled, as a door propped open.

Sevika climbed out the backseat, closing the door behind her with a thud. 

Elora tried to look around her, “Did you ever find Mel?"

Rubbing the back of her head, Sevika stepped in front of her deliberately, blocking her vision, “Uh, yeah,” she said. She did not offer any other information. 

This immediately made Elora suspicious.

Every other innocuous detail came into sharp focus. Hair falling wild in front of their face—could be normal. Top buttons of her kurta unbuttoned. Again, plausible. But, Elora did a double take at their face. Bottom lip glittery, a dark shine that smudged towards her chin.

Sevika noticed she was staring, but she made no moves to wipe off the makeup. Arms folded as she stubbornly pretended like nothing was out of place.

The palpable silence sat thick between them.  Elora’s eyebrow ticked up, skeptical with each passing second. She stepped to the left. Sevika blocked her again. The right—blocked again. She should kick her friend in the knee-caps, but before it could escalate to that point—the other door opened. 

Kitten heels clicking, Mel softly stepped out from the back seat. Swan-like, her micro-braids falling free about her face in gentle waves. She tucked one behind her ear, turning. A smile lit up her face as she spotted Elora.

Mel was properly glowing under the shitty florescent lights. Perfectly refreshed. Her peace faltering as she circled the car. Eyebrows knitted together, she gave them a once over,"Did they make you work tonight?” she asked with a disapproving frown.

Elora shrugged, “Only for a little bit," she admitted. She couldn't stop noticing. Mel wore a jacket over her dress now. The front zipped up to her neck. Sevika’s jacket. Elora's gaze cut back to Sevika, not missing the faint grin on their face. She kept her observations to herself. a small part of her relieved at the revelation. Then she saw how Mel's eyes were red, raw, “Were you crying?”

“Only a little bit,” Mel admitted, hooking arms with her. She didn't seem to mind the grease stains on their sleeves, nor the smell of cat-walk-inflicted-misery, “I'll tell you all about it later," she said, sending the gym a shrewd look over her shoulder,"We should get going before they steal you away again.”

With a tiny smile, Elora leaned into their side, changing her accent, "Oh, but they could never steal me from you Miss Medarda," she said, "May we burn shit now?"

"Why yes, darling, we may," Mel hummed, tossing her hair as she looked back, "Sevika," she called out, caught off guard by how they were already staring at her. She looked away, clearing her throat, "Can you please grab the box out the trunk?"

-

In a grand sweeping gesture, the red umbrella closed.

Ambessa shook it free of rain, peace overcoming her for a split second.

It was unfortunately short-lived. The pitiful stain at her feet making himself known. The man grasping at her legs, pained. He almost tore a hole in her tights, leaving bloody fingerprints all over her calf.

Eugh.

Disgusted, she shook him off, digging her heel in for good measure. His whimpers fizzled out as he clutched his manhood.

Ambessa turned her wrist, delicate, gold chain flashing as she checked the time. She needed to leave out. Heels clicking noisily against the pavement as she approached the black, unmarked car in the parking lot.

A single street lamp flickered in and out, casting a pitiful shadow. Even the rats didn't want to be out tonight. She didn't miss living in this hell-hole of a neighborhood at all.

She had no fond memories of this place. She knew plenty of people that were prideful of their beginnings. Attributing their eventual success to their awful upbringing. She knew better. She did not become the woman that she was because of where she came from. She did so in spite of it all. Her success was all hers—no one elses.

Stopping in front of the driver's side, the window rolled down. Grayson extended a hand, cigarette balanced between her fingertips. She looked past her, weary, "That was quick," she comments.

Ambessa produced a lighter from her bra, the front of her dress tugging down. She didn't fix it. "I'm here for results, not to waste time," she said, raising the flame. Rose stained lips curled up into a thin-lipped sneer, "Are you judging me, darling?"

Grayson didn’t bat an eye, refusing to take the bait. She knew by now the woman was always looking for a fight. She raised the lit cigarette to her lips. Without missing a beat, she shamelessly glanced down the front of her dress, “This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when  you called," she said, taking a rather long inhale.

Ambessa's eyes narrowed, "And what did you have in mind? Dinner and a show?" she teased. Grayson exhaled, watching as they circled the car. Slow moving, hips switching. Manicured hands trailing against the metal, never breaking eye contact as she slid into the passenger seat. She got comfortable, taking off her heels and switching on the seat warmers, all to aware that they were still watching.

"I wouldn't mind something that like," Grayson drawled, smoke following her hand as she gestured, "Sometimes people can enjoy each others company," she suggested, then added, "—And not implicate each other in a crime."

Ambessa scoffed, “It is not a crime to protect my family,” she said, leaning against the door, "You sent me his information. What did you expect me to with it?” 

“File a report. Get a CPO. Let the professionals handle it," Grayson listed off. She didn't miss how Ambessa's mood only soured. It wasn't like the law has been kind to the woman, but that didn't mean they couldn't try, “Or better yet, let me handle it. He's clearly a paid grunt. I can investigate further, find the source. We can put a stop to it. ” 

It had been a long time since it started up again. There was the time she received her doctorates. Last minute, she'd been investigated by her university for claims of plagiarisms from a source they wouldn't disclose. Eventually, she got past it, but there were other times. She'd get a promotion, then suddenly be slammed with H.R meetings and rumors being spread among her coworkers. It escalated to the point she switched careers entirely. Vauge threats in her inbox, strange men stalking her across cities—states. Forced evictions, random searches, insurance declined, cars towed. Every time she got comfortable—every time she made something of herself, he'd make sure to drag her back down. After she made the switch to education—after she lost husband— then her son, the nonsense went quiet for a long time.

Then she started campaigning.

He deliberately leaked information to the other campaigns. The rumors spread. Moles on her team cropping up left and right. T.V stations cutting her speeches short, refusing her precious airtime. Donors drying up—dissapearing. It got out of control quickly. It was a matter of time before Mel started being targeted as well. Some of the hate was natural. Vultures feeding on the bloodied mess. That fringe, religious group thought she was the devil himself once they got word of her past.

“There's no need for any of that," Ambessa said, waving her off, "I know exactly who is to blame. "

There was really no point in trying to stop him. She quite literally couldn't afford it.

She could handle it. She was used to being the punching bag. She didn't care for it. But, she never expected Mel to get caught up in the mix. For some reason, even after all these years, she never thought he'd stoop so low.

Funny how that changes.

“...What if it escalates?” Grayson pressed, tense.

“It won’t,” Ambessa said, dismissive at the thought. She'd never allow it. She's made that more then clear. It would never go beyond these childish games. She reached forward, fiddling with the radio.

"But what if it—"

Ambessa raised a hand, cutting her off. Interest peaked hearing Salo's voice on the station.

“My officers have been working night-and-day to identify the cause for the sudden uptick of violent crime. At first, we believed it to be a lone-agitator, but we have determined that is not the case. The poison that has swept our community has far more sinister origins—” 

-

A crooked yellow house, windows filled with light. An older woman's shadow crossed to the other side. Long, winding hair tied back, temples slick with sweat. It was a long day of cleaning. She was still cleaning, always cleaning, but with nightfall she she made sure every window and door was shut tight.

Drupati—that was her given name. A part of it anyway. She hardly hears that nowadays. Growing up, she only heard it at home. Back then, there was only one high-school in town. All the kids went to it regardless of what side of the bridge they came from. But only a few students from her neighborhood were admitted into the honor classes. They didn't want her there and they always made it known. The school-yard pranks and the isolation were easy to ignore. She didn't like them folks noways. But, some things stuck with her longer then others.

They refused to call her by her name, always shortening it. Mocking her, trying to make her feel ashamed of her family Trying to get a rise out of her at every opportunity. To prove that she was wild, unwanted, and unruly. She never responded. She was taught to endure. She's learned that she will always have to endure. Respect was rationed and disrespect would always be freely given. Her parents had the same experience, her siblings, her children, and now her grandchildren endure as well. It doesn't change.

Although, she's experienced far worse things then not winning the adoration of her lily-white classmates. After she got married, her Ma didn't call her anything at all. Icing her out of her life. Refusing to acknowledge her children and grandchildren—up until the pyre. She never expected the world to love her unconditionally, but she never imagined her Ma would refuse her as well.

Nani—Aji—Dadi—Nana—Granny—Ma. She was called a lot of things nowadays. Looking over the wreckage of her living room, she's uncertain how she feels about that. Bottles, snack wrappers, turned over side-tables, and random piles of discarded clothing cluttered every available flat surface. A mess like always. Her sons—and their sons— all live nearby. They stopped by earlier to talk her ear off and make dirty dishes like they never left home.

The love-birds were no help like always. Meena gave her a kiss on the cheek, hightailing it before the kettle could sing. She left out that morning to see the sunrise at the beach and to scratch a creative "itch"—whatever that means. A few hours later, she called to let her know she'd be staying out all weekend. Knowing her daughter, she'd find an excuse to extend her vacation. Her daughter was a busy body to the highest degree. Even with the pain—or maybe it was because of the pain—she never liked to stay in one place for long. Or maybe, she didn't like to stay here for long. The smell of rot tended to do that.

It used to irritate Drupati. Her daughter could always leave without a care in the world, without a second glance back. Now, the older woman was only irritated because she's never gotten the nerve to do the same. Smart smart girl.

Drupati balanced a laundry basket on her hip, knees creaking as she tossed clothes in the basket. Slow moving, she put everything back into place as the radio played in the background.

“Tonight that changes. We will leave no home unturned. We will not rest until the streets are cleaned and all affiliated parties are met with the mighty arm of justice—”

Sucking her teeth nosily, she switched to the next station and let the music play instead—her husband's favorite song. Piano and horns filling the house with his warmth. Far more pleasant then whatever the mayor was going on about. That man was always trying to do something, but never follows through. She couldn't stand the sound of his voice. She'd read up on it in the paper later this week.

Blearily, she surveyed what she had left to do. Maybe she should've skipped town too? On Fridays, she normally went to get drinks with a few ladies from the block, but she changed her mind last minute when she saw the state of the house.

Anything would be better then this. She was too old to cuss her daughter out over the phone, but she was considering it. All of this—and she still had to figure out how to break the news to Sevika that her Ma left—again.

Laundry basket filled, she set it down on the couch. Arms aching, stomach aching. She decided to take a break, body relieved as she finally sat down. Her thoughts a never ending cycle.

She wasn't in the mood to cook. Maybe she'll order out? The house was a mess. She needs to fix it up before Sevika gets back. Was there anything in the fridge? Her sons ate everthing. She should order out. There were slim pickings this late in the evening. There was the place around the corner, but it tasted exactly how it looked. The nicer place was too pricey. Did she have a coupon? She should have a coupon. She'll ask one of her sons to pick something up. She'll add something sweet to the order—that should help the news go down. How was she going to tell Sevika the news?

Drupati sighed again, wiping her brow. She should get back up, but her body was unwilling. For once, she wasn't willing to force herself to keep on.

It wouldn’t hurt to rest her feet a little while longer. 

-

"We cannot underestimate the danger. This is a highly combustible drug. A man-made poison that spoils the brightest of minds. Filling our streets with its filth, but no more—”

“Man, turn that mess off, ” Essence whined. She snapped her mirror close, reaching to change the station, but she was swatted away.

“Hold on, this is important,” Islande insisted, intently listening to the squabble. Tonight, she didn't change clothes. She opted to only switch out her head wrap. The lack of effort would normally piss Essence off, but she did look good. The pale fabric artfully pleated, bringing out her cheekbones in the way she always admired.

“Is it?” Essence said, rolling her eyes, “Sounds like the same old, same old to me,” she complained. But, the drug mess was wild. What even was that shit? Super crack? She's gotta deal with super crack now? She wiggled in her seat, readjusting the front her dress with a huff, “C’mon, lets goooo—"

It was hard work being a pretty ass bitch. Even harder to get glammed up in a truck. Plucking, preening, and glittering herself up only to stand outside in the woods and get wasted. She nearly killed herself to submit her assignments on time. She doesn’t know how she convinced her teacher to let her mail them fuckers in. Actually she knows exactly what did it. She may have accidentally offed her Pawpaw again—the mean one on her Mama's side—to make it happen, but guess what? She’s graduating on time and that's all that matters.

Islande remained unmoved by the pestering. Without turning her head, she shooed and shushed her friend again, “Pay attention, don't be a baby."

Essence sniffed at that, "Don't be mean," she said, flicking her hair at them. Despite her complaints, she did shut the fuck up and listened to the rest of the speech, but her FOMO was still a bitch.

Outside, most of the students flocked to the rising fire. Hidden in the trees with coolers of questionable contents and posted up on cars. Heels swinging in hand and ties hanging loose around their necks. Laughs louder then the crackle of wood, speakers flooding the area with music.

Every year, the graduating class would celebrate the end of exams by burning their homework from the year. Some folks even went as far as saving every scrap of paper since freshman year for this moment.

Elora was one of those students. Elated as she watched Sevika tip over the box, sending all the papers into the fire. Watching the pale edges curl and crumble into ash. Flames licking up the sky, cleaning it of all remanence of rain.

In hand, she held a perfectly balanced stick. Nudging the fire, she ensured everything burnt evenly as more was added by other students.

Mel was crouched down. Balanced on her thighs, she watched from a more appropriate distance. Entranced as the flames got higher and higher. Lost in thought, she twirled a braid in hand. Eyes occasional drifting towards Sevika, looking away the minute they turned in her direction.

They've been playing this silent game for awhile. Waiting, anticipating. She doesn't know what to expect, but it was impossible to deny what she wanted.

Dropping the box, grass crunching underfoot from heavy boots. Sevika approached the pair with narrowed eyes. She tugged Elora back by her collar, “Watch it, you'll burn yourself.”

Elora smacked her hand away, “I'm not a child.” In fact, she was the oldest one here. She refused to be scolded by someone who wasn't even old enough to rent a hotel room.

“No, but you act like one around fire ” Sevika shot back, getting another smack to her arm, she returned it, smackily, “Pay attention. You're gunna hurt yourself."

Elora was visibly offended, "What about Mel? She's the one always getting hurt."

“Mel knows that. That's why she doesn't do shit like this.” Sevika said, gesturing to her feet, “Look—you're standing in the fire.” 

Mel’s mouth dropped open, equally offended, “Why am I in this?” she protested, head on a swivel as she turned between her friends.

“I’m standing by the fire, not in it, " Elora corrected, not defending her friend at all,“I’m fine.“ 

“Last time we were at the fair, your hair caught—“

“—No, no, no. The match barely grazed me—"

“I’m not clumsy,”  Mel muttered to herself. She traced lines in the dirt, face scrunched. She tuned her friends out as she puzzled over the accusation. “I’m a perfectly well balanced individual.” 

“Nuhuh—

“Uhuh—” Elora frowned as she looked into the discarded box. She wanted to grab more paper to burn, but found it was completely empty. All thoughts of defending her honor now gone,“Huh, we ran out.”

“There should be another box in the trunk," Mel said rising to her feet, "I'll go grab it," she said, grateful to have an excuse to gather her thoughts alone.

Sevika kindly stopped terrorizing Elora, pausing the momentum on the noogie she was winding up. Turning her head, her attention fell on Mel unfortunately, “Oh, I'll go with you,” she offered, casually.

Great. Okay. Cool. Mel can be cool about that. She was cool. Coool. She kept her eyes on the ground—and not on Sevika—fiddling with her clutch to find her keys again as she walked off.

Elora watched the two leave, shaking her head. None of her business. She patiently waited until Sevika was out of sight then she stepped closer to the fire.

-

This was normal.

Perfectly normal. Average even. It was dark, they were in a dark forest. Alone together. Music fading behind them, leaving only their quiet breaths and the rustling of branches.

Mel tried to keep everything contained. Thoughts running a mile a minute, her legs apparently matching her pace, however her feet did not get the memo. She tripped on a root. It wasn't even her fault. It came out of nowhere.

Sevika caught her by the elbow, another hand at her waist to keep her upright. Mel let out a whisper of a thanks, chin tucked to her chest. Sevika notably didn't remove her hand. It burned a hole through the jacket, the dress, and seared off all remaining flesh. She couldn't remember a time before their touch, but she knew she didn't want it to stop. The selfish desire ballooning quick, taking the place that was normally occupied by her dear friend jealousy.

Mel hadn't realized how much air it' d been occupying. Eating up every second, souring even the most innocuous of interactions. Then again, it was far easier to compare herself to other girls then to grapple with the depth of her affection. It was even less plausible to consider even an ounce of her feelings being returned.

And yet, the unthinkable occurred. She thinks. It was a blur. There wasn't a lot of… talking going on—but that's fine! She can take it slow. If only she could make it happen again.

"Wait," Mel snapped out of her thoughts, confused as she saw their surroundings, "This isn't the way back to the car."

"It isn't," Sevika agreed, humored, "Were you you serious about that?"

Mel's brow furrowed, not understanding. Realization dawned over her as that hand at her waist crept lower. A step forward, a step back. They never got that dance, but this was close enough. A teasing caress running along her bicep, circling the sensitive skin of her wrist. She crowded against a tree, comforted by the weight against her body. Satisfaction curling in her chest as she realized all eyes were on—her, "Well, this works too," she admits with a sigh. Hands sliding down the front of their kurta, indulgent, as they nosed down the length of her neck. Stomach swooping, she cautiously asked, "Is it weird that we're doing this?"

It felt weird. Like she was going to explode in the best way possible. A buzzing. undeniable good that left her floating, grasping at air.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Sevika said, breath tickling, sending her straight into the stratosphere. Hand innocently playing with the zipper to the jacket, “We’re still friends, nothing else has to change.”

In fact, nothing else should change.

Sevika tried ignoring her crush, she tried waiting it out, but nothing seemed to kill it. Surprisingly, a third path opened up. She'd always neatly separated her feelings for Mel from everyone else that caught her attention. She unintentionally made it a bigger deal then it needed to be. Childhood sentimentality making her too scared to break the glass, but the feelings didn't stop. Overflowing, threatening to fuck everything up if she lost control. However, if she indulged part of the feeling, the rest should go away eventually. If she treated Mel like how she treated other girls, the crush should fade, right?

Right. 

Right, right, right. 

Mel swallowed that pill, but it sat like a boulder in the back of her throat.

This… was her punishment for rejecting Jayce, right? Is it because she doesn't pray? Was it because she flushed her Mom's lipstick collection down the toilet when she was six and pretended like Bitsee and Beebee destroyed it it? This was a specially crafted hell—and it felt—bad. Terrible. Dangerous. Sevika whispering in her ear, it left her woozy. Silly in the head, unable to bite down the giggles that slipped out. Tightly clutching their clothes for dear life as they pressed into her, insatiable, "Wait, wait, what if—" Sevika paused and Mel tried to put her head back on straight. What was she worried about again? "What if someone sees us?"

Sevika glanced to the left, then the right, "Only thing out here are the drug dealers and murders," she said in a low, conspiratorial whisper.

“Sevika—”

Teeth flashing, Sevika chuckled, “We got some ghosts, ghouls, even a pack of wolves," she listed out out, taking the piss out of it.

Mel exhaled, rolling her eyes, but she did relax, “Oh, so no vampires?”

Sevika hummed, contemplative, "We got a few of them too," she said with a toothy grin. Scooping Mel up into her arms, beaming as they burst out into surprised laughter. A hand swept back the hair from her face, another drawing her close as she tightened her grip. The moment unreal, a brightness flooding her chest and left her lungs blinded and her heart still. So much so, she didn't pay ant mind to the random rustling bushes nearby, dismissing it entirely.

Then they heard the sound again.

- 935 Cedar Lane

That home stood for decades. It should only take a few minutes for it to finally go up in flames.

Salo was mostly off about the exact science, but he was correct about one fact—it was a highly combustible substance.

Shimmer was what Dr. Reveck called it. An interesting pet project that he'd been work-shopping since Viktor's youth.

It was volatile at every stage of creation, but they've found a way to stabilize it. It was a dreadfully long process. Worst of all, there was no room for mistakes. Any miscalculation risked the entire batch being thrown out and they were running out of places to dump the waste. They did plan to eventually relocate for long-term production, but that required more money. And to get more money—they needed the supply.

Dr. Reveck was still on the phone, negotiating with their investor to make an exception this time.

Plans have changed. They needed to relocate tonight.

-

Darkness receded in the periphery. Pavement, painted lines, passing cars and their high-beams blurring as he coasted. The sound of distant sirens getting closer. Eventually he'd have to slow down. He could see the traffic up ahead. That long line of cars stretching on forever, bottle necked by the newly added check points.

Foot pressing heavy against the pedal, the dial of the speedometer inched up. Grogginess threatened to overcome him, but Rictus kept both hands on the wheel. Grip unyielding.

All he had to do was cross this bridge and he’ll be home.

-

Window half-rolled down, the ever pleasant scent of sea-salt and hot garbage filled the car. It tossed Elora's hair in the wind. She exhaled, a relaxed grip on the steering wheel as the guitar riff played. She'd thought by changing the station, her friend's mood would improve.

The results were rather iffy.

In the passenger seat, Sevika stewed in spite of her friend's noble effort. This was even her favorite song. She was named after the lead singer and everything. It did nothing to fix her attitude. It all sounded like a load of shit. Matter of fact, everything was shitty.

Glancing back in the rear view mirror, it got even shittier.

Mel looked good like always. That color always did suit her best. She carefully tended to Jayce who was sprawled out in her lap—piss ass drunk. They found her puking her guts out in the bushes, hugging someones shoe.

No, they never figured out where the shoe came from, but they knew they couldn't leave her to fend for herself. Elora was on driving duty while Mel made sure she stayed awake and didn't choke on her vomit.

Sevika was there for moral support.

It's whatever.

Belatedly, she realized she'd been staring for awhile. Mel must've sensed it as well because met her gaze evenly in the mirror. Blinking wide eyed, hand reaching for the collar of the jacket unconsciously.

That—almost got a smile out of Sevika.

Knowing her luck, nothing like tonight would happen again. Mel was going through a lot of emotions. She only needed an outlet for it. It didn't mean anything. She can move on from this. The love birds would probably make-up before Monday rolls around.

Well, at least she made her mark on Mel Medarda.

Finally looking away, Sevika leaned against the car door. Resting her forehead against the window, her reflection faint.

A long stretch of cars far ahead. Their blinking lights arching over the bridge. The traffic was practically at a stand-still, so they'll probably stick to the side roads. Tonight, the roads were teeming with life. So many lives unlike her own. All trapped on that same path. Dark waters reflective, but the image it showed was murky, unfamiliar.

Something—something, turmoil, the human condition Some bullshit she'd always have to read in her English class. It was nonsense. She couldn't stop thinking about it even in her free time.

It was always better when it wasn't her own writing. She could see the text describe the worst of the worst—the worst of herself, and it couldn't touch her. It was like poking a wound for a body that wasn't her own. It was only raw for the moment. It wouldn't hurt unless she allowed it.

Even if she allowed it to hurt, she wasn't sure what it would reveal.

If she leaned out the window and bared it all, what would she see? Her teeth? Her scars? A bright smear in the water that dissapeared the minute the waves got too rough?

The line of cars began to slow to a crawl. Elora turned to take another route. Sevika was still stuck. Thinking. What would her Nani see? Ma? Baba? Elora? Her cousins—her teammates—the strangers in the street—What would—?

What did Mel see in her for that short while? That made her smile so wide and laugh like she was perfectly content to be in Sevika's arms. That was real—for that moment. It didn't make sense. She couldn't wrap her head around it.

Sevika couldn't resist, taking the chance to look back. As if seeing her would make it all make sense again. Take her back to that moment, keep her there, hold her close and show her the—

Bright. Flashing lights blinded her— red then blue. The noise cut through the music, careening around the corner. Cars honking mad trying to skirt out the way as the sirens whirled past, chasing—hunting.

Sevika can't see anything ahead or behind. A biting terror took hold. She couldn't say anything. There wasn't time—her friend wasn't moving fast enough. She didn't think. She lurched, yanking the steering wheel desperately.