#woi

It comes out louder than you mean it to, bouncing faintly off the tile and the mostly empty corridor. It’s not too late—but late enough that the building feels half abandoned, lights dimmed in stretches ahead of you, offices dark behind closed doors. The air smells faintly like cleaning solution and stale coffee.

Your coworker doesn’t even flinch. She just glances sideways at you, one brow lifting, lips already curving like she’s been waiting all day to ask that. 

“You’ve been checking your phone nonstop all day,” she says, adjusting the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

“I have not—” you start, fumbling with your keys, nearly dropping them as you juggle your bag and your dignity at the same time. 

“Mm.” She hums, unconvinced, heels clicking steadily beside you as you both head toward the exit. “I’m not your supervisor yet, you can tell me,” she adds, voice dipping conspiratorially. 

“I can’t say.”

Jenna slows a step. 

“Oh, come on—”

“No, like—” you huff, pushing open the heavy door and stepping out into the warm evening air. “Legally, I can’t say.”

Obviously, that was the wrong thing to say. 

“WHAT?”

You don’t look at her. You can’t. Because it sounds insane, and worse, you’re not even entirely sure it’s still true. You don’t know if whatever you signed still applies, if yesterday counted. You don’t know what this is enough to know what rules you’re supposed to be following. 

Which is a whole separate problem you’re absolutely not thinking about right now. 

Your phone buzzes. 

You react before you consciously register it—like your body’s been waiting for it all day. Your hand moves on instinct, already digging it out of your bag. 

“Oh my god,” Jenna says, pointing at you like she’s just caught you red-handed. “There it is. Exhibit A—”

You glance down. 

It’s Azriel. 

Something in your chest loosens all at once, tension you didn’t even realize you were holding finally snapping. Relief hits fast, quiet, a little embarrassing in how immediate it is. 

“I gotta go.”

You don’t even break stride, already veering off toward your car. 

“Wait!” Jenna calls after you, half laughing now. “You can’t just drop that and leave! That’s literally illegal—!”

“No, me telling you is literally illegal!” you call over your shoulder, already unlocking your phone, already unlocking your car, already gone. 

The door shuts, muffling everything outside, and for a second, it’s just you and the faint ticking of the engine turning over, your phone lit in your hand. 

You stare at it for longer than necessary because, truth be told, you had been worried. Not in a dramatic way. You hadn’t been pacing, hadn’t been staring at your phone waiting for it to light up. 

But you had been checking it. All day. Between emails. Between conversations. Between pretending to pay attention in meetings you couldn’t care less about. 

You’d been thinking about him. 

About the way the night had blurred into morning without either of you really noticing. About how he’d stayed, even when he probably shouldn’t have. About breakfast this morning, like it was the most normal thing in the world. About the fact that he’d gotten on his bike after that for a seven hour ride on barely any sleep. 

—don’t be gross. You were talking. 

No, seriously. Actually talking. 

Hours of it. 

The kind where you lose track of time without realizing, where one topic turns into five and suddenly it’s morning and neither of you remembers who fell asleep first. 

6:13 PM

Azriel made it. traffic in atlanta is a fucking crime and the gas prices are worse. 

Of course that’s what he leads with. Not hey, I’m alive, not miss you already. Complaining about traffic and gas like he didn’t just ride across state lines on fumes and bad decisions. 

Your head tips back lightly against the seat. He made it. He’s fine. 

Your thumbs move before you can think too hard about that. 

6:15 PM

(Y/n) you made it in one piece?

The typing bubble appears almost immediately. 

Azriel barely. i’m never doing that ride again.

You huff a quiet laugh, head still tipped back against the seat. 

(Y/n) you say that like you don’t do stupid shit for fun

There’s a pause this time, a little longer. Just long enough for you to adjust the A/C. 

Azriel not usually on no sleep.

Your mouth relaxes into something softer at that. 

(Y/n) thats on you no one told you to stay up all night

You hesitate for half a second before hitting send.

Three dots. Gone. Back again. 

Azriel didn’t seem like you wanted me to sleep.

Your stomach flips—quick, annoying, immediate. 

(Y/n) youre a big boy, you can make your own decisions

He doesn’t respond right away. It’s just long enough that you shift in your seat, thumb hovering, brain already trying to decide if you—

Your phone buzzes. 

Azriel yes i can. don’t act like you didn’t like it. 

You roll your eyes when your stomach flips again, worse this time. The phone buzzes again before you can even decide how to respond. 

Azriel i’m about to shower. 

After a beat, another message:

Azriel try not to think about that too hard. 

(Y/n) no, gross, youre probably covered in dead bugs

He doesn’t answer immediately, so you prepare for the drive home instead—plugging your phone in, fumbling with your bag until everything is where it’s supposed to be. You scroll half-heartedly through your music, pick something, then skip it almost immediately. 

You get a text notification. 

An image. 

You open it in a heartbeat, not thinking about seeming too desperate. 

He’s still on the bike.

Visor raised, jacket unzipped just enough to show the black tee underneath, the silver chain at his throat catching the last of the light. The angle’s a little off, like he took it one-handed. Your eyes drag over the photo. The way the fabric pulls slightly across his chest. The way the chain sits against his skin, catching just enough light to draw your attention back to it again and again. The visor giving you just enough of his face to see his hair plastered to his forehead and the sweat dripping down his skin.

It's unfair, really. The whole thing. 

Because he looks like that. He just rode seven hours on no sleep and still somehow came out of it looking like that. 

You exhale, slow, as if it would help. 

Before you can stop yourself, you’re zooming in on different parts, like you need to confirm this isn’t some horrible delusion. 

A buzz. Another message, right under the photo. 

Azriel not a one. 

You huff out a quiet breath that almost turns into a laugh, shaking your head even though there’s no one there to see it. Jenna had left, right?

Your thumb hovers for half a second, like you’re deciding whether to let him get away with that. 

You don’t. 

(Y/n) stop trying to be hot it’s unbecoming of a gentleman

The reply comes quick. 

Azriel i distinctly remember you telling me you didn’t want it gentle. 

(Y/n) pig. go shower

He hearts both messages. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Az, get the fuck over here.”

Rhys’ voice cuts clean through the noise of the venue—the opening act, cables half-coiled across the floor, someone in the back arguing with a tech about levels that no one else can hear. 

Az doesn’t even look up at first. His phone is loose in his hand, thumb hovering like he’s deciding whether to open something or not. 

“Azriel.”

That gets him. 

He looks up just in time to take a solid hit to the arm. Rhys doesn’t pull it. 

“Jesus—” Az hisses, rubbing at the spot, more out of reflex than anything else. 

If anything, he looks… smug. 

“You missed soundcheck,” Rhys says flatly. “Completely. We had to have Feyre fill in for—”

He cuts himself off with a sharp exhale, dragging a hand down his face. 

“We’re on in twenty minutes.”

Azriel glances past him, like he’s only just now taking in the chaos around them. 

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.”

Az shrugs, slow and easy, like that settles it. 

“We’ll make it work.”

“We already did make it work,” Rhys snaps. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“The point,” he says, stepping closer, voice dropping just enough to cut sharper, “is that you don’t disappear for a day with your phone off when we have a show in—”

He stops himself again, jaw tightening. 

Azriel watches him, seemingly unbothered. 

Rhys lets out a short, humorless laugh. “You know what? Actually, go ahead. Keep doing whatever the hell you’re doing. I’d love to hear the explanation when it inevitably bites us in the ass.”

A beat. 

“Especially since no one seems to know where the hell you were,” Rhys adds, sharper now. “Feyre didn’t. Cass didn’t.”

His eyes flick over Azriel’s face, like he’s looking for something there. 

“Funny,” is all Azriel can think to say. Why hadn’t they said anything? They were the ones that told him how to find her in the first place.

“It won’t. Bite anyone in the ass.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Rhys says dryly. “Because you’ve been making excellent decisions lately.”

That almost gets a reaction. 

Almost. 

“You’re worrying too much,” Azriel tells him. 

Rhys lets out a sharp breath through his nose, like he’s a second away from hitting him again. 

“Get your shit together,” he says instead. 

He turns before Azriel can respond, already snapping at someone else, the conversation over whether Az agrees or not. 

Az watches him go for half a second, then drops into a seat like nothing happened. 

Cassian snorts from where he’s sat a few feet away. “Alright,” he says, dragging the word out. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Azriel glances up. 

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” he says. But then he glances up, grin already forming. 

“Get your dick wet?”

Az doesn’t even blink. 

“I don’t fuck and tell.”

“It’s kiss and tell.”

The correction comes from Cassian’s right—cool, precise, cutting clean through the conversation. 

Az glances over, and actually does a double take. 

“Nesta?”

She’s leaning against Cassian like she’s been there the whole time, arms crossed, expression sharp as ever—but there’s something almost amused flickering underneath it. 

Azriel pushes himself up from his seat, crossing the space in a few easy steps. “I thought you said you couldn’t make this one.”

“I changed my mind.”

He pulls her into a quick, solid hug. She lets him. Briefly. 

“Don’t get used to it,” she mutters, but there’s no real bite to it. 

“Missed you too,” he says, just as dry. 

Cass snorts. “Oh, that’s nice. Really sweet. We’re all feeling very included right now.”

Nesta pulls back, giving Cass a look that could level him, then glances back at Az, eyes more assessing now. 

“You don’t kiss and tell.”

Az’s mouth twitches. 

“I know what I said.”

Cassian lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “That’s crazy,” he says, grinning. 

Azriel ignores him, because at that moment his phone buzzes. He glances down casually, like he’s checking the time. Like it doesn’t matter. 

He unlocks the screen regardless, and his thumbs tap out a message before he locks it again, setting it back in his pocket like that makes it any less obvious. 

“Yeah,” he says, pointing at him like he’s just proven a theory. “No, that’s worse.”

Az looks up, unimpressed. “What is?”

“That,” Cassian says. “Whatever the fuck that is.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Your room is dark except for the soft glow of your phone. 

You’re on your back, phone held just above your face. You should probably be asleep, but the conversation’s been going well enough and long enough that you’ve forgotten to care. 

Azriel crowd was really good though. 

(Y/n) yeah? no one threw anything at you?

Azriel not this time. disappointing honestly. 

You smile a little at that, rolling onto your side, pulling your blanket up higher. 

Just when you’re about to send a message asking what it’s like to have bras thrown at you:

Azriel you should’ve been there, it was great. 

You tried not to look into it too much. What would be the use in it?

(Y/n) i had work :/

Three dots. 

They disappear. 

Come back. 

You shift onto your back again, staring up at the ceiling this time, phone still held above your face, when suddenly your heart leaps into your throat. 

A new message. 

Not a text. 

An audio message. 

After hesitating for a second, you press play. 

There’s a bit of background noise at first—something indistinct, a TV maybe, the low hum of movement—but it fades quickly. And then… 

A quiet exhale. 

“Hey.”

His voice is lower than usual. Rougher. Worn around the edges in a way that you’re sure has everything to do with the stage. There’s a small pause, like he’s choosing his words carefully. 

Another faint shift, maybe the creak of a mattress. 

“We’re heading to Nashville next,” he says, “in a few days.”

Another pause, longer. 

Then, softer—

“Was thinking about it earlier—you should come.”

Your chest tightens, like your body recognizes the weight of that before your brain does. 

Another breath, quieter this time, before he adds, “You’d like it there… I think.”

The message ends. 

And you just lie there. Phone still in your hand, screen still lit, the last of his voice echoing in your head like it didn’t just cut off. 

You don’t move, can hardly even blink, because—

You don’t know what to do with that. 

Your thumb hovers over the screen, like there’s something obvious you’re supposed to say back. Like there’s a right response here, something easy and normal and not—

This. 

You could say yes. 

The thought comes quick and immediate. Easy. You could just go. It wouldn’t even be that hard. A flight, a bag, a couple days off if you really wanted to—

Your stomach twists. 

If you go… What does that make you?

You stare at the ceiling, the question settling in heavier the longer you let it sit. Because this wouldn’t just be a trip, some casual yea, sure, why not.

It would mean something. Or it could. 

And therein lies the problem. 

Because if you don’t go—

Your grip tightens slightly around your phone.

If you don’t go… are you saying no?

You exhale slowly, dragging a hand down your face, already annoyed.

You’re getting ahead of yourself. You don’t even know what this is. You don’t even know what he thinks this is. And you’re sitting here trying to assign meaning to a voice message like that’s going to give you an answer you don’t have. 

Your thumb shifts again, hovering over the keyboard now. 

There’s something you could say. Something simple. A three word question that would fix this whole thing in five seconds. 

What are we?

Just as quickly as the thought had hit, you shoved it away. 

You type—

when?

You stare at it. At how easy that was. 

Delete. 

The word disappears like it was never there, and you try again. 

i can’t just

You stop. Because you don’t even know how to finish that sentence. 

Delete. 

The cursor blinks back at you. Patient. Expectant. You exhale through your nose, already irritated. Then you type out a message and hit send before you can think too hard about it. 

(Y/n) i have work lol

Like that makes it casual. 

Like that makes it no big deal. 

Three dots, but they don’t stay long. 

Azriel take a day off. call out. i’ll make it worth it. 

Of course he says that, you think, an incredulous breath escaping your lips. Like it’s easy. Like it’s nothing. Of course it is for him. He gets on a motorcycle and rides seven hours on no sleep like it’s a normal Tuesday. He goes from city to city, stage to stage, like there’s nothing tying him down anywhere long enough to matter. 

You stare up at the ceiling again. 

You have work. 

A desk. Emails. Deadlines. A schedule that doesn’t bend just because you want it to. You have to be there every morning. 

Unless it’s one of your remote days. 

Two a week. 

You could make it work…

Probably. 

But that’s not really the problem. Even if this is something, how would that even work? Are you supposed to just… follow him around? Fly out whenever you can, squeeze yourself into the spaces between shows, between cities, between whatever this is and whatever it isn’t?

Wait around?

Be what, exactly?

You press your lips together, eyes squeezing shut for a second. You don’t even what what this is—if it is anything. 

The phone buzzes again. 

Azriel come on, (y/n). 

(Y/n) i have work

You send it this time without the lol, without softening it. The reply comes just as quick. 

Azriel take the day off.

You take a pause for a long while. 

(Y/n) maybe. let me see. 

Before anything else can come in, you put your phone on Do Not Disturb and lock it, setting it down on the nightstand.