she's a rattlesnake

so maybe she was a little naive tonight in thinking this was anything more than business , but she had hope . and hope was a dangerous thing for a woman like her . when he pulls her away , her resolve vanishes and her face falls , blinking up at him . takes a second to wrap her head around the situation , the rejection before her touch disappears and she’s shoving herself away from him completely . “fine ,” turns to collect her bag , trying to shield how her heart’s in her throat and her stomach hurts in a way only he knew how to induce . if he didn’t want to spend time with her then she’ll find someone who will , looking out towards the view of the crowd as she scans to find her next victim . someone who won’t embarrass her or make her feel like a burden , instead spotting the many couples on the dance floor . each enjoying one another’s company without a care in the world . smiling , laughing , kissing .. she envied them in that moment knowing she’s constantly put on probation , unable to express herself without being told to settle down .

the  moment  she  turns  from  him,  the  air  between  them  shifts  —  thickening  and  collapsing  inward  like  something  fragile  has  just  been  irrevocably  misread.  he  watches  her  reach  for  her  bag,  an  escape,  a  clean  severance  of  whatever  she  thinks  he  has  just  denied  her,  and  a  possessive  instinct  bordering  on  feral  pulls  him  after  her.  his  hand  closes  around  her  wrist,  firmer  than  intended,  sharpened  by  reflex  rather  than  cruelty.  “ where  do  you  think  you’re  going ? ”  his  voice  is  low  and  edged  with  a  control  that  feels  far  closer  to  panic  if  one  knew  how  to  listen  for  it.  and  then  he  sees  her,  really  sees  her.  the  fall  in  her  expression,  how  her  gaze  drifts  past  him  toward  the  dance  floor  where  strangers  move  with  careless  intimacy  as  laughter  spills  from  them  with  foreign  effortlessness.  he  knows  that  looks,  knows  her  too  intimately  to  pretend  otherwise.  it’s  not  anger,  but  disappointment  curdling  into  a  far  heavier  emotion  that  lingers.  the  sight  alone  is  enough  to  unsettle  him  in  a  way  bullets  never  have.  his  grip  loosens  slightly  as  her  name  leaves  him  softer  than  his  prior  tone,  “ freya  .. ”  a  pause.  almost  honest.  “ i’m  not  trying  to  take  anything  from  you. ”  her  fun,  her  freedom.  he’s  just  trying  to  make  sure  she’s  alive  to  want  anything  at  all  tomorrow.  but  his  armor  slips  back  on,  remembering  where  they  are,  as  his  words  arrive  disciplined  and  final.  “ you  can  be  angry  with  me.  but  i’m  not  changing  my  mind,  so  please, don’t  turn  this  into  something  it  isn’t. ” 

he knows what she’s trying to do , but using tape was not strong enough to mold something back together when you needed glue to keep it . because eventually , the pieces would start to crack again and she’ll be left trying to pick it up without cutting herself on the jagged edges . he wasn’t trying to hurt her , he’d rather cut his own heart out than be the one causing her any distress , but they didn’t build this foundation on sweet nothings and little white lies . he was honest — he had to be in order to ensure nothing would come between them . though it seems like no matter what he does anymore , they will always find their way back to the part of their relationship that doesn’t work . “i know who he is , elaine . i helped create him ,” head shakes , heart in his hands ; pulsing with little blood left to make it through the night . it hurts him to see her hurt , to know he was part to blame for her current distress . “if something happens to him because he had access to the thing that’s killing him ..” he knows she’ll blame herself and he refuses to let that happen . “he has to learn somehow .”

she  listens  as  if  each  word  is  being  laid  over  an  old  wound,  only  reminding  her  of  how  easily  it  splits  open  again.  how  their  son  has  become  the  axis  on  which  their  marriage  tilts,  every  conversation  about  ares  feeling  like  walking  through  fractured  glass  they  keep  insisting  they  can  survive  unscathed.  and  still,  no  matter  how  many  times  she  watches  him  fall  apart,  she  never  knows  what  the  right  answer  is.  her  heart  always  surges  first  in  that  reckless  and  maternal  way,  while  striker’s  reason  arrives  afterward,  structured  and  absolute.  “ how  do  you  expect  me  to  stop  being  his  mother ? ”  a  pause,  fragile  as  glass.  “ tell  me  how  i’m  supposed  to  look  at  him  and  choose  anything  else. ”  their  differences  are  glaringly  obvious  because  if  striker  is  certainty,  she  is  the  impossible  refusal  to  stop  hoping,  even  when  that  hope  keeps  cutting  them  both  open.  “ you  say  he  has  to  learn.  you  say  that  like  you  saw  him.  like  you  stood  there  and  watched  him  try  to  breathe  through  it. ”  she  swallows  hard  against  the  image  of  ares  that  night,  desperation  clinging  to  him  as he pleaded with her :  i swear, mom, i just need a little. just enough to get through the night. i’ll pay you back, i promise. “ if  you  had  seen  him  the  way  i  saw  him,  you  would  have  folded  too. ”  because  she’s  aware  of  the  rules  her  husband  builds  to  survive,  but  she  also  knows  what  cracks  it.  his  protectiveness  is  just  differently  structured,  his  love  forged  in  hard  lines  rather  than  soft  surrender.

eyes roll in classic freya bates stubborness . “obviously . otherwise , we’d be dancing right now ,” or rather , she’d be dancing around him . either way , tonight was positioned with the sole purpose of enjoying each other’s company . to sing a different tune instead of the same one they’d grown accustomed to . he had every right to be worried , but tonight was not a threat . maybe she was naive in her inebriation , turning a blind eye to what could be perceived as a potential problem , but she didn’t care to see it that way . she wanted to unleash the shackles of what it meant to be married to a man of his caliber and spend time with the man she grew to love . leaning in , she presses her lips along hardened jaw down to his neck , “mm … i don’t know ,” murmurs in between kisses . “i think it’s working just fine .”

the  idea  of  dancing  almost  borders  on  absurdity  like  something  softened,  ornamental,  and  belonging  to  a  version  of  him  that  wouldn’t   survive  vegas.  wouldn’t  survive  blood  and  consequence,  the  kind  of  inheritance  that  teaches  a  man  to  stand  still,  not  sway.  and  yet,  she  says  it  so  easily  as  if  the  world  is  not  always  calculating,  always  waiting  for  him  to  slip  up.  her  audacity  is  infuriatingly  bold.  “ i  don’t  think  you  understand  what  tonight  is, ”  the  words  are  murmured  as  though  even  he  can’t  remember  the  last  time  anything  felt  like  fun  rather  than  obligation,  strategy,  or  threat.  and  the  truth  of  that  unsettles  him  more  than  he  allows  it  to  show.  but  her  lips  are  on  him,  his  jaw,  his  throat,  unhurried  and  intoxicating  in  a  way  champagne  could  never  compete  with,  fracturing  his  composure  just  enough  to  be  dangerous.  it  should  never  become  difficult  to  think  and  calculate,  to  remain  the  version  of  him  that  survives  rooms  like  this.  which  is  exactly  why  he  pulls  her  away,  hand  tightening  at  her  waist.  his  touch  is  firm  and  decisive  enough  to  create  space  between  them  with  reluctant  precision.  “ don’t,  freya. ”  a  warning  as  he  lets  out  a  strained  exhale.  not  here.

they were always unable to see eye to eye when it came to their parenting skills in regards to their oldest son , who was loved the same , if not more . who turned to drugs , convincing elaine that maybe she had done something wrong . that he was a direct result of her love and adoration , but she couldn’t have loved him more if she tried . “i’m not wrong about this . i want my son to be alive , but he is unwell . he needs help . he doesn’t need money .” anger settles deep in his bones when he feels like she’s downplaying his involvement in his son’s health , gaze unwavering as he stares into the familiarity of ocean pools . “he needs to come back to us on his own terms , not because he knows you’ll fold the second he begs for forgiveness . the drugs could kill him and then what are we supposed to do ? tell me .”

the  words  strike  her  with  a  precision  that  feels  almost  surgical,  and  for  a  moment  she  can’t  tell  where  grief  ends  and  indignation  begins.  it  is  always  like  this  between  them  —  love  braided  so  tightly  with  accusation  that  it  becomes  indistinguishable  in  the  dark.  their  marriage  stretched  thin  under  the  weight  of  their  eldest’s  addiction,  a  quiet  devastation  seeping  into  every  corner  of  their  home  as  it  shadows  their  two  younger  children  in  ways  neither  of  them  can  fully  shield.  fane  grew  ferociously  protective  in  its  wake,  sharp-edged  and  watchful  in  a  way  no  child  should  have  to  be,  while  crew  silently  folded  himself  into  the  role  of  the  responsible  eldest,  learning  too  early  how  to  steady  what  keeps  breaking  around  them.  “ don’t, ”  she  says  at  last,  voice  low  and  trembling  at  the  edges  of  composure.  “ don’t  make  it  sound  like  i’m  killing  him  with  my  hands. ”  her  gaze  hardens,  but  it’s  glass-thin,  almost  breakable  if  pressed.  “ he’s  our  son,  striker. ”  not  a  problem  to  be  solved  or  cut  off,  at  least  that’s  how  she  viewed  it.  the  implication  of  blame  coils  in  her  chest  and  she  exhales  through  it  like  it  physically  hurts.  “ i  know  what  he  needs, ”  she  reiterates,  “ but  i  will  not  be  told  that  my  love  is  what’s  destroying  him. ” 

she blows out a breath before crossing the path leading to him , throwing her arms around his neck , "c'mon , lucky ." leaning her weight into his chest as she peeks up into his eyes through heavy lashes , she attempts to ease the tension by protruding lesser into a pout , "this is supposed to be a fun night ." one away from work and chaos . a chance to enjoy each other's company under better circumstances than previous situations they've -- or , well , she -- has found themselves in . "you might as well throw away the key if you keep acting like this ."

she  crosses  the  distance  between  them  like  she  always  does  when  she  decides  his  restraint  is  negotiable,  her  arms  looping  around  his  neck  with  effortless  familiarity  that  threatens  to  undo  him  more  than  any  threat  in  the  room  ever  could.  he  hates  the  way  intoxication  makes  her  think  the  world  is  less  sharp  than  it  is,  but  he  knows  better  —  the  world  has  spent  years  teaching  him  everything  he  loved  could  be  taken.  now she  tempts  him  as  though  danger  is  something  that  can  be  reasoned  with,  his  hands  settling  at  her  waist,  not  quite  pulling  her  close,  not  quite  letting  go.  “ i’m  not  here  to  have  fun. ”  the  only  thing  that  truly  mattered  to  him  was  making  sure  nothing  happens  to  her.  “ that’s  not  going  to  work  on  me  right  now. ”  his  jaw  flexes,  because  if  she  keeps  looking  at  him  like  that,  he  risks  forgetting  what  he’s  supposed  to  be  watching. 

he was raised on tough love , but instead of using his fists to make a point with kids , he cut them off . it was harsh and he knew it could blow up in his face but how is ares supposed to make it out alive if elaine was willing to forgive him time and time again ? "giving in is the same as giving him a line . do you understand that ?" he finally looks at her , attempting to hide the devastation but failing . he loved his kids more than anything in this world , but he loved his wife more .

“ i  know  what  addiction  does,  striker.  i  know  what  i  could’ve  done. ”  but  the  image  remains  etched  behind  her  eyelids :  ares’  hollow  cheeks,  trembling  hands,  bloodshot  eyes.  “ but  he  was  standing  on  our  porch. ”  her  voice  falters.  “ he  was  crying. ”  there’s  a  flicker  of  hurt  that  she  fails  to  smother,  his  suggestion  carving  too  close  to  something  already  raw.  she  had  spent  her  childhood  aching  for  belonging,  and  as  a  result,  she  clung  to  the  family  they  built  with  a  near-desperate  ferocity,  unwilling  to  relinquish  people  she  loved  no  matter  how  deeply  they  wounded  her.  and  god,  loving  their  son  through  his  addiction  often  felt  like  grieving  someone  who  was  still  alive.  “ me  giving  him  money  is  the  same  as  handing  him  poison,  but  you  standing  there  cutting  him  off  ..  that’s  love ? ”

"if i constantly played by your rules , i'd never see the light of day again ."

the  club  hums  with  opulence  and  excess,  loud  and  crowded.  while  she  seemed  relaxed  due  to  a  few  too  many  glasses  of  champagne,  he’d  spent  the  evening  watching  exits  instead  of  enjoying  it.  he  can  tell  she’s  pleasantly  intoxicated,  with  her  cheeks  flushed,  laughter  easier,  inhibitions  lowered.  he  hates  it  —  not  because  she’s  embarrassing  herself,  but because  it  made  her  less  aware,  less  guarded.  “ you’re  acting  like  i’m  locking  you  away. ”  god  forbid  he  wanted  his  wife  to  make  it  home  in  one  piece. 

"you did something after i already told you not to . you never listen ."

his  words  settle  densely  between  them,  but  not  nearly  as  heavily  as  the  guilt  already  lodged  beneath  her  ribs.  she  averts  her  gaze,  fingers  curling  into  her  sleeves.  “ he  was  hungry,  striker. ”  ares  had  relapsed  again,  another  devastating  descent  after  months  of  sobriety,  and  elaine  had  folded  the  moment  she  saw  him  standing  on  the  porch.  “ i  couldn’t  just  turn  him  away. ”  maybe  she  was  desperate  to  believe  this  time  would  be  different. 

fights  the  urge  to  roll  her  eyes  again,  had  spent  enough  time  going  over  their  last  interaction  to  know  a  reaction  is  exactly  what  he  was  looking  for  here.  so  she  ignored  him  again,  locking  her  jaw  and  pressing  her  lips  together  as  she  watched  him.  taking  him  in  for  longer  than  she  should,  albeit  justifying  it  as  nonchalance.  and  then,  her  date  tenses,  not  as  well  equipped  to  deal  with  zeno’s  wrath  as  she  was,  or  at  least  to  pretend  it.  and  it’s  too  late  to  say  anything  on  his  behalf  until  he’s  opening  his  mouth.  cuss  words,  something  about  staying  away  and  a  light  push  on  zeno’s  chest  before  he  rises  his  shoulders.  god,  this  was  exactly  the  type  of  thing  she  didn’t  want  for  her  thursday  evening.  “  seems  like  you’ve  got  what  you  came  looking  for  “  she  mutters,  digits  ghosting  over  the  skin  of  daniel’s  arm  for  a  split  moment.  taken  away  too  soon,  as  if  she  was  doing  something  wrong  by  touching  another  man  in  front  of  the  one  she  was  once  with.  “  you  can  go  back  to  whatever  you  were  doing  now  “  and  there’s  a  part  of  her  that  hates  that  she  doesn’t  know  what  it  is.  was  he  in  her  neighborhood  for  some  girl?  was  the  wine  for  her?  it  was  pathetic  and  ridiculous  to  even  think  about  it,  but  she  couldn’t  help  it.  jealousy  for  someone  she  didn’t  even  know  existed,  though  there  was  enough  on  him  to  assume  there  would  be  someone  else  by  the  end  of  the  night. 

the  push  barely  registers  even  as  he  rocks  back  half  a  step,  more  from  surprise  than  force,  before  he  glances  down  at  the  hand  that  had  just  connected  with  his  chest.  then  he  laughs  —  not  loudly,  not  cruelly  —  somehow  worse.  the  gesture  was  so  transparently  territorial  that  he  almost  finds  it  charming.  it’s  reduced  him  from  a  potential  curiosity  to  a  man  desperately  trying  to  prove  he  belongs  beside  ayla.  and  there  is  a  certain  arrogance  in  knowing  that  even  now,  years  later,  he’s  still  being  measured  against  the ghost of him.  “ jesus, ”  he  lifts  his  gaze  back  to  daniel,  amusement  lingering  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth  in  that  infuriating  way  that  suggests  very  little  in  the  world  could  genuinely  touch  him.  “ that’s  what  we’re  doing ? ”  a  brow  arches.  “ bit  early  in  the  relationship  to  start  puffing  your  chest  out,  isn’t  it ? ”  the  words  are  directed  at  daniel,  but  he  can  feel  ayla’s  attention  lingering  nearby,  the  familiar  weight  of  it  pressing  against  old  fractures  he  pretends  don’t  exist.  and  he  almost  laughs  at  the  irony  of  her  dismissal  because  for  years,  he  had  been  the  one  leaving  first,  slipping  through  her  fingers  before  she  could  ask  for  more.  now  she’s  the  one  ushering  him  toward  the  exit,  and  he  finds  he  dislikes  the  reversal  far  more  than  he  should.  so  instead,  he  tilts  his  head  to  further  taunt  the  other,  “ what  was  the  plan  here ? ”  amusement  drips  from  every  syllable.  “ you  shove  me,  she  realizes  you’ve  got  the  protective-provider  thing  down,  and  suddenly  you’re  getting  laid  before  dessert ? ”  his  gaze  drifts  to  where  her  hand  had  touched  daniel’s  arm,  brief  and  fleeting,  yet  somehow  impossible  to  ignore  as  the  image  lingers  longer  than  it  should,  irritating  in  a  way  he  doesn’t  want  to  examine  too  closely.  his  attention  settles  on  ayla,  as  though  daniel  has  already  ceased  to  be  relevant.  “ is  this  working  for  you ? ”  he  asks,  lazily  gesturing  toward  her  date.  “ the  whole  protective  act. ”  the  smile  that  follows  is  effortless  and  all  lazy  confidence  though  the  realization  arrives  with  an  unwelcome  sting  :  she  stands  firmly  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  line,  no  longer  viewing  him  as  a  person  worth  protecting,  and  it  bothers  him  in  ways  he  refuses  to  articulate. 

she  echoes  his  promise,  another  one  he  likely  wouldn’t  be  able  to  keep  and  he  almost  backs  down,  almost  tells  her  he’ll  drive  her  straight  home  instead  and  not  say  another  word  about.  but  he  allows  the  silence  to  linger,  even  if  only  to  hear  rejection  coming  out  of  her  mouth,  plain  and  simple.  maybe  that  would  do  him  some  good.  if  only  she  was  mean,  if  only  she  pushed  him  away  for  good.  that  would  put  a  stop  to  it,  since  clearly  his  self  control  isn’t  enough.  “  i’ll  be  gone  as  soon  as  i  drop  you  home  “  he  checks  back  on  her,  half  thankful  she’s  not  looking  in  his  direction  to  watch  the  way  face  contorts  with  the  phrase.  wanted  nothing  more  than  to  spend  the  night,  watch  over  her,  make  sure  she  knew  she  was  safe  enough  to  have  a  good  night  of  sleep  under  his  watch.  but  he  can’t.  that  was  too  much  on  his  already  overstepping.  “  it’s  not  every  night  “  scoffs,  rolling  his  eyes  while  his  attention  is  turned  back  to  the  street  ahead  of  them.  not  bothering  to  deny  any  of  the  accusations  she  throws  at  him  but  rather  secretly  basking  in  the  thought  of  her  noticing  his  presence  and  not  pushing  it  away.  “  they  should  mind  their  own  business,  i’m  always  there  because  i  work  there  “  it’s  a  lie,  so  clear  that  even  his  tone  doesn’t  project  the  same  way  it  usually  does.  a  cheap  excuse  for  his  insistence,  even  if  there’s  a  rush  of  blood  under  his  ear  at  the  thought  of  that  rumor  reaching  higher  grounds.  of  people  who  shouldn’t  hear  about  his  affection,  people  who  have  the  power  to  hurt  her,  people  whose  opinion  could  tarnish  the  first  taste  of  stability  he  and  his  brother  have  ever  had.  “  i’ll  worry  about  my  reputation,  “  he  murmurs,  regardless  of  the  thoughts  drowning  him  in,  the  anxiety  creeping  down  his  spine.  “  at  least  they  know  i’m  around  in  case  anything  happens  “  and  he  means  her,  even  if  he’d  extend  security  to  the  other  girls  without  a  doubt,  there  was  a  difference  and  they  both  knew  it.  if  not,  he  attempts  to  tell  her,  eyes  moving  in  her  direction  for  a  moment  before  he  switches  back  ahead.  “  i’m  gonna  deal  with  it  “  it’s  a  promise  he  will  keep,  this  time.  no  matter  how  much  it  might  cost  him,  taken  the  importance  of  his  guests. 

i’ll  be  gone  as  soon  as  i  drop  you  home,  his  words  should  bring  relief  and  make  this  easier.  instead,  they  leave  behind  the  peculiar  ache  of  a  bruise  pressed  repeatedly  until  it  no  longer  hurts  sharply,  only  constantly.  she  stares  out  the  passenger  window,  watching  city  lights  smear  into  indistinct  ribbons  of  gold  and  white  across  the  glass.  she  hates  how  he  inserts  himself  into  the  margins  of  her  life  only  to  remind  her  that  he  has  no  intention  of  staying.  a  hollow  laugh  escapes  her,  “ right. ”  the  single  word  is  quiet,  but  skepticism  clings  to  it.  her  gaze  drops  to  her  hands  folded  around  her  purse,  a  flimsy  barrier  for  the  fight  she struggles to put up.  when  he  denies  waiting  around  every  night,  her  mouth  twitches.  “ oh,  sorry.  must  be  my  imagination  then. ”  sarcasm  is  mild,  lacking  the  venom  she  wishes  she  could  summon.  that  has  always  been  her  problem  when  it  comes  to  giorgio  —  anger  never  survives  prolonged  exposure.  it  always  dissolves  into  something  softer,  infinitely  more  dangerous.  and there  is  that  contradiction  she  can’t  understand.  the  fact  that  he  left  —  he  chose  to  leave  —  yet  somehow  he  remains  woven  through  the  fabric  of  her  nights  at  the  club.  waiting  after  her  shifts.  watching.  appearing  whenever  trouble  finds  her  as  though  pulled  there  by  some  invisible  tether  neither  of  them  can  sever.  her  expression  falters  for  the  briefest  moment  when  he  says  he’ll  deal  with  the  rumors.  of  course  he  will ;  he  has  always  been  willing  to  carry  burdens  she  never  asked  him  to  carry.  just  not  the  one  she  wanted.  she  turns  slightly,  finally  looking  at  him  as  her  chest  tightens.  for  a  second,  she  considers  asking  the  question  that  has  haunted  her  for  months.  then  she  remembers  how  exhausting  it  is  to  keep  searching  for  answers  in  someone  determined  not  to  give  them.  so  she  looks  away  again.  “ you  know,  you  keep  acting  like  it’s  your  responsibility  to  protect  me. ”  her  voice  emerges  softer  now,  stripped  of  most  of  its  bite.  they both knew the distinction he refused to name aloud. he looked after all the girls, sure, but not like this. “ and  maybe  that’s  what  confuses  me. ”  what  she  doesn’t  say  is :  why  do  you  still  look  after  me  like  i  matter  if  you  were  so  willing  to  let  me  go ?  her  throat  constricts  around  the  words  before  she  decides  to  swallow  them.  like  always.  eyes  fixed  on  the  passing  lights,  she  murmurs,  “ you  don’t  get  to  have  it  both  ways. ”  you  don’t  get  to  leave  me  and  then  stay.

it's easier to ignore him, to pretend he doesn't exist because the alternative is sitting with the reality of what he did — the kind of betrayal she deems absolutely unforgivable, and seeing his face only causes an irrepressible ache to settle somewhere deep in her chest. she's careful with her movements, body leaning against the doorframe while the company in the other room remains oblivious. " what else is there left to say? " exhaustion bleeds through her voice, you've already stomped all over my heart.

her  words  hit  harder  than  they  should  —  maybe  because  they’re  true  and  that’s  why  hearing  them  from  her  feels  remarkably  similar  to  reopening  an  old  wound  just  to  confirm  it’s  still  there.  his  gaze  drops  briefly,  thumb  dragging  across  the  rough  stubble  of  his  jaw.  for  a  moment,  it  looks  like  he’s  about  to  argue,  to  defend  himself  the  way  everyone  expects  men  like  him  to.  instead,  he  exhales,  eyes  lifting  to  hers  again.  “ i  had  a  whole  speech  prepared  on  the  way  over, ”  the  admission  is  uncharacteristically  quiet,  a  humorless  breath  escaping  him.  “ doesn’t  seem  real  smart  to  have  it  out  here. ”  his  gaze  flick  toward  the  interior  of  the  house,  a  beat  following.  “ can  i  come  in ? ” 

" i can give you the ride of a lifetime. "

she  watches  him  leaned  against  his  car  like  he  owns  the  asphalt  beneath  it,  his  words  drawing  a  laugh  before  she  can  stop  it,  incredulous  and  bright.  her  gaze  drifts  deliberately  over  the  vehicle,  scrutinizing  very  inch.  “ considering  the  state  of  your  suspension ? ”  she  arches  a  brow.  “ i  highly  doubt  that. ” 

"there's not any universe, so don't go getting any ideas. i was just testing you," wiggles her brows in his direction playfully. "emotionally devastating," she repeats, something flickering behind her eyes that she covers quickly with a laugh, continuing to slide the pizza cuter through until it makes eight slices. "okay, fair." slides two slices onto a plate and holds it out in his direction, already reaching for her own. "and for the record i don't make you lose," she says, moving around the island toward the living room, "you just eventually realize i'm right, which is what actually always happens, because i'm always right," she sets her plate down on the coffee table and tucks one leg underneath herself on the couch, reaching for the remote. the projector hums to life on the wall across from them, and she's suddenly very aware of how easy this feels, how quickly the house stopped feeling like something she'd been nervous about and started feeling like just ... this. him on her couch. like everything was right again in the world. "clueless it is," she says, pulling up the title screen, and she doesn't look at him when she says it but she's smiling and pressing play.

“ right, ”  he  accepts  the  plate  with  an  incredulous  shake  of  his  head,  amusement  etched  plainly  across  his  features.  “ a  test.  good  to  know  my  access  to  homemade  pizza  was  hanging  by  a  thread. ”  a  low  laugh  follows  him  into  the  living  room.  “ i  knew  there  was  a  reason  i  was  nervous. ”  yet  beneath  the  easy  banter  and  familiar  rhythm  they’ve  slipped  back  into,  the  nerves  that  had  accompanied  him  all  week  still  lingers  stubbornly  at  the  edges  of  his  thoughts,  refusing  to  dissipate  entirely.  he  settles  onto  the  couch,  leaving  a  respectable  amount  of  space  between  them  despite  every  memory  in  the  room  conspiring  against  that  decision.  “ that’s  a  generous  recount, ”  he  informs  her  about  her  claimed  victory,  yet  the  smile  tugging  at  his  month  undermines  the  protest  entirely.  because  they  both  know  the  truth.  dylan  rarely  won  arguments,  he  simply  enjoyed  letting  her  have  her  way  far  more  than  he  ever  enjoyed  being  right.  the  projector  casts  pale  light  across  familiar  walls  as  it  comes  to  life,  a  peculiar  ache  unfurling  beneath  his  ribs.  this  is  the  dangerous  part.  not  the  rooftop,  not  the  reminiscing.  this  —  dylan  curled  into  the  corner  of  her  couch  wearing  his  shirt,  pizza  waiting  to  be  devoured,  a  film  they’ve  both  seen  enough  times  to  recite  from  memory.  the  frightening  part  is  how  effortless  it  feels,  as  though  months  hadn’t  passed. 

pulls a clean rag from the workbench, working the grease off his hands properly now, unhurried about it. moves toward the couch and drops into the other end of it with the easy familiarity of someone who's spent a lot of hours here. leans back, one arm resting along the back. "groceries and errands," he tilts his head slightly. "that's really it on your days off?" there's no judgment in it, just genuine curiosity, like he'd been expecting a different answer and is now recalibrating. "what kind of errands we talking? like actual responsible adult errands or the kind where you end up at three different stores because you forgot the one thing you actually went for?" he stretches his legs out in front of him, getting comfortable. "no innocent civilians though," hand to his chest, genuinely relieved. "that's a low bar, marina, and i'm still a little impressed you cleared it. truly. the streets of this city are safer for it." he reaches over and sets the rag down on the table beside the couch, glancing back at her. "stop insulting my customers?" he says it back slowly, like he's actually sitting with the advice. then shakes his head. "yeah, i don't see that happening. besides —" something easy in the way he looks at her, "— you're still here, aren't you? so it must truly be part of the charm."

she  curls  one  leg  beneath  her  as  she  settles  farther  into  the  couch,  mug  balanced  between  her  palms.  the  warmth  seeps  pleasantly  into  her  skin,  a  small  comfort  she  didn’t  realize  she’d  been  craving.  a  light  chuckle  escapes  her  at  his  question.  “ actual  responsible  adult  errands,  thank  you, ”  she  tilts  her  head.  “ which  means  i  spent  sixty  dollars  on  groceries  and  somehow  still  came  home  with  nothing  i  actually  wanted  to  eat, ”  the  corners  of  her  mouth  curve,  “ i  consider  that  one  of  adulthood’s  more  impressive  scams. ”  her  gaze  drifts  toward  him  as  it  strikes  her  then  —  albeit  not  for  the  first  time  —  how  easy  this  feels.  she  spent  so  much  of  her  life  anticipating  what  people  wanted  from  her  that  the  absence  of  expectation  still  feels a little  disorienting.  like  discovering  a  hidden  room  inside  a  house  she’d  lived  in  for  years.  at  the  mention  of  his  charm,  she  narrows  her  eyes.  “ oh,  that’s  dangerous. ”  a  soft  laugh  follows,  “ you  figuring  that  out  is  only  going  to  encourage  you. ”  she  takes  another  sip  of  coffee  before  pointing  the  mug  in  his  direction.  “ and  for  the  record,  i’m  still  here  because  my  car  is  being  held  hostage. ”  her  gaze  settles  on  him,  softened  by  a  fondness  that’s  tucked  beneath  the  banter,  carefully  disguised  as  amusement.  “ your  personality  is,  at  best,  a  secondary  factor. ”  the  smile  that  follows  undermines  the  entire  argument.