𝘧𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺.

Amongst other reasons. Merritt knows that Shane has bigger fish to fry than his housemate and doesn't take any offense to it; her born-again-virgin status isn't exactly a beacon for men, and beyond that, they've already slipped into a comfortable roommate situation that Merritt's not keen on disrupting. At least before they finish this season, anyway.

Like yeah, she'd make out with Shane if given the opportunity, but it's also like, who wouldn't?

her joke — overlaid over a sentiment that he knows she really, really means — makes him split into a big grin, head ducking and twisting away to shake in amused exasperation over the popcorn bowl. ❝ bossy and shameless, ❞ he mutters, mostly to himself really.

it's not that he hasn't thought about it. it's hard to spend several nights alone with someone and not think about it at least once, particularly when said someone seems to enjoy sleeping in as little clothes as possible, as some mutually timed attempts to grab a midnight snack have shown him.

sometimes, on nights not too unlike tonight where his day has been bad and she's feeling especially bossy or nosy or flirty or whatever else that twists up his insides with both frustration and fondness, he wonders if he shouldn't just do it. get it over with. fuck her into the couch and break whatever spell she's in so she'll stop trying to involve him in her life so much. make it easy, he tells himself. it'd be a mercy in more ways than one.

then he reminds himself he's not that into white girls and that usually resolves it, ignoring that that hasn't really stopped him before. it's an easier excuse than trying to tackle the real stuff : that he's already eaten where he's shit enough already without adding pity-fucking merritt to the list. at least he won't try to pretend like he's above that. he half suspects she'd get mad at him if he tried. sometimes he likes to joke she's a bad feminist.

it was a level of cheesiness that was incomprehensible to vee, overshooting past the idyllic and straight to the absurd. maybe it was the way he was raised— not in absence of love, harvey felt he was loved every day of his childhood, but without adequate ways to express it. sydney didn't have the resources, he didn't have the time, he didn't have the thought. and besides, the big displays were never for their family, really. they were for others to ooh at, to say how nice.

he's about to say as much when shane poses the question "me?" what would that even look like? it's not just that he can't fathom the atomic dream before them, but also that he simply didn't think it possible logistically. too many financial, social, political barriers- and that wasn't even counting the fact that harvey was simply. fucking unmarriable. woe is him, right? not to mention, hilarious question to ask your local drug dealer.

seeing the question catch harvey off guard, like he's never even considered it before, shane's lips press together in a fleeting look that's not too far off from disappointment. he can't say he's surprised at this point, it's par for the course for someone in colossal to express a laissez-faire attitude towards their own life. to accept and maintain that they will always be who they have always been — an angel, an athlete, a burnout. it's horrifying to shane how they never seem to want anything more or at least different for themselves, especially when so many seem unhappy with the lot they've been given since their school days. if nothing else, it shouldn't take him being here and asking these questions for them to finally think about what they want in life.

meanwhile, shane has thought about it extensively. from daydreaming during lessons with his parents to the antsiness that grows with each passing month spent in this one town, the life he lives on the road isn't one he's simply accepted, but one he's chosen. one he is sure he will continue to choose the moment he's able to. so, when vee turns the question around on him, shane doesn't have to think about it. the answer is instinctive. ❝ nah. i prefer traveling light. way too easy to get bogged down or lose what matters otherwise. ❞ physically and emotionally.

shane's been watching the ostrosky's for a while now. ever since the little girl took a spill on the ice and her parents rushed over in their matching sweaters to help her. the whole time, he found himself holding his breath, waiting for the inevitable moment where the foundational cracks in something otherwise so picture perfect made themselves known. surely, any moment now, the little girl would start crying and the father would demand she stop to not embarrass them. or the mother would start lecturing her on her form, revealing high expectations and her own failed life goals. a sideways glare would reveal a failing marriage, one parent leaving would show a lack of interest, something somewhere would prove that not everything was as it seemed.

but no moment comes. for all he's able to see, the family really is as solid and content as they appear on the surface. boringly so, in fact. still, he can't seem to pull his focus away. even as harvey expertly slides up to him, he's too busy trying and failing to rationalize how people so stagnant could be so genuinely happy to give that the double take it deserves. he doesn't even flinch at vee's near-yelling.

A dirty rag in her face interrupts the internal moment of joy and she scoffs, swipes at the air to shoo away the tease of motor oil. It would take a lot more than this weak threat to get her angry; growing up with an idiot brother has given her both patience and claws in equal measure.

"Oh my god, wow, that's a new one. Can you grab me a notebook so I can write that down? Don't want to forget the first time anyone's ever called me bossy." Her tone is flat and mocking, but when Shane rounds the couch she still looks plenty lively. Bossy hasn't been a negative thing for her in years; like, sorry she knows what she wants, you know? "Seems to me you kind of like bossy considering you're listening."

balling up and tossing the rag into a nearby hamper, he yoinks the bowl of popcorn out of merritt's lap and onto his own. ❝ if by 'that thing' you mean the greatest, most beautiful bike in the world, then, yeah, a bit. ❞ despite the initial, exaggerated defensiveness, his response comes out half-hearted, eyes glued to the commercials rather than meeting hers.

the truth is that, at best, he's made no progress, and more realistically things have only gotten worse since he started. he buries that reality deep down though. hides it under internal reassurances that the bike does at least kind of turn on when he turns the ignition. ignoring that it also sounds like the grinding, scraping gates of hell are opening when he does so, that has to count for something.

when: thursday, 9:21 AM

who: open !

“no.” by rights, andie shouldn’t be at work at all today, with the bags under their eyes as evident as the wrinkles on their clothes. there had been no time to do laundry after getting home from tour in the small hours of the morning. they were gracious enough to open, but no one in their right mind could expect them to work. “no,” they repeated again, looking up from their book with some alarm as the other person began to approach. “no coffee today. go home.” the pounding in their head was not compatible with the noise of the espresso machine.

❝ and i, uh, ❞ he clears his throat, rubs the back of his neck. the counter between them suddenly doesn't feel like enough of a barrier for what he's about to say. ❝ i'm the one who called earlier to say i'd be a couple hours late. ❞

her instinctive response nets her a low hum. the kind that says he doesn't fully believe her but also doesn't plan on pushing it. at least not right this second. she's already got enough on her plate navigating things tonight; she doesn't need him adding to it by pointing out for the dozenth time that content and happy don't exactly mean the same thing. that, if nothing else, it shouldn't have taken an outsider to see the way she shrunk beside milo at every party, smile momentarily strained as he handed her another vodka soda, their parting kisses looking almost mindless, trained, robotic, not a single spark to be seen. if that was truly what passed as a non-lousy marriage, shane's never been happier in his decision to not settle down.

besides, even if he wanted to say something, she doesn't give him the chance. staring at the cigarette in her hand, shane finds himself caught off guard for the second time that night. ❝ damn, when did you manage that ? ❞ once again, he can't help but laugh. even though she didn't directly ask, it's something—proof, maybe. while he doesn't need reassurance that what he and mila did was right by any metric—of course it wasn't—like a scientist seeing his hypothesis proven correct, it's good to see he hadn't been wrong about her. if she expects him to be disappointed by that, she's sorely mistaken.

"Shane? Hurry up, I'm putting the tape in!"

Merritt's knelt down on the floor, her bare knees digging into the carpet as she slots the VHS into the player. Learning how to record TV shows is the best thing she's ever done for herself; she'll never, ever have to scour the schedule, desperate for a rerun of her beloved guilty pleasure: The Real World.

It also means she has the blessing of being able to spread the good word to poor unsuspecting housemates like Shane. A win-win, she thinks.

Merritt pushes off the ground so she can plop herself onto the pile of blankets she'll be nesting in on the couch; a few pieces of popcorn jostle out of their bowl, so she quickly disposes of them with a satisfying crunch. While not exactly kosher to do, she'd made a couple of cosmos at work and smuggled them out in to-go cups. Now they sit in a pair of wine glasses on the coffee table, pink and glinting in the low light.

with work cancelled the following day, that same garage is where merritt's voice reaches him now. just as it has all the other times she's called out in the last ten minutes to remind him of what has unintentionally become a weekly tradition. muttering a curse beneath his breath, shane leans back, swiping a grease stained thumb over his brow as he takes in the minimal amount of progress he's been able to make on his still-mangled bike. he's half a mind to sneak in just one more adjustment, but merritt shouts again, eliciting another curse beneath his breath. ❝ alright, alright, i'm coming ! ❞ he relents. ❝ but i want a play by play if david and tami start fighting again ! ❞

Milo's been pretending all night like this entire night isn't weird. He wanted a little escapism from it all; his impending divorce, his brand new roomie thanks to his sister — not that he doesn't like Shane or anything, it just meant another body in the Stone household.

"Hey, happy birthday man," he greeted, coming up from behind him and wrapping an arm around his neck like the two of them had known each other forever. "Your first birthday in Colossal, what a hoot!" If it isn't evident already, Milo was plenty of drinks in and was certainly feeling the buzz of it all. Words like snowed in and Mila didn't even phase him.

What word did interest him was cake.

The downside? Milo couldn't sing, or dance, or do a thousand push ups, or read aloud at an insane speed. "Think I could set a wager instead for that cake?" Milo's birthday was still months away and what were the odds he would stumble on a cake between now and then?

"I won't tell if you don't."

❝ first and last. ❞ surely if he says it enough times it'll turn out to be true. no offense to the people of colossal—they've all been great—but one birthday spent here is bad enough. the thought of multiple makes him feel like he might break out in hives. ❝ gotta give you back your space after all. ❞

what milo says next has shane raising a brow, curiosity piqued. in truth, he was all too happy to give the cake away to the first person that wanted it. the whole competition aspect was really just a distraction ( and if he happens to be entertained by watching a bunch of drunk strangers try to impress him, so what ? it's already been established he's not that great of a person ).

there's no fun in telling milo any of this, so instead he plays along, swinging a hand up to grip the back of milo's shoulder and pull him into a more conspiratorial huddle. ❝ hmm, kinda sounds like your talent might just be gambling. i don't see why that wouldn't be a valid entry, assuming you can rise to the challenge that is. you have something in mind ? i'll warn you, i already drank easy under the table earlier. ❞ meaning : the wager's gotta be something good.

amidst her rambling apology, shane watches mila with growing, wry amusement. only when it seems like she might run out of air does he finally interject. ❝ mila, ❞ her name comes out in a breathy laugh, visible in the chilly air between them. ❝ i'm fucking with you. it's fine. ❞

really. it’s not like he wanted anyone to know. the fact that jodi remembered and planned something for it is already far more than he would've liked. were it up to him, he’d spend the day the same as he always does : alone, no fanfare, doing whatever suits his fancy in the moment. sometimes that meant a night out on the town, while others it meant staying in with a lightly smashed slice of grocery store cheesecake and reruns of buffy on the hotel room tv. anything more felt overly frivolous—unnecessary, too reminiscent of birthdays spent with his parents where everything was planned and picked out for him. where all he had to do was smile and hide how much he hated it all.

he shudders at the memory, covering it as merely a reaction to the cold. as much as he’d like to say it’s just the day itself that has him thinking about his old life, it’s not the first time he’s done so in mila’s presence. he’s not sure what it is about her. on the surface at least, they couldn’t be any more different. yet even now he finds himself drawing comparisons, noting the way her polite smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes that now drift towards the horizon, his mouth, the cigarette he pulls away from it. he hopes she’ll ask for any of these things now that she’s free to want as she pleases. allows himself to imagine for just a moment her plucking the cigarette from his fingers with one hand and drawing him in with the other. an improbable scenario maybe, but not impossible. after all, it wasn’t shane that made the first move in the stone family’s garage two weeks ago.

( it dawns on him then that this is the first they’ve really spoken since. )

more than once, ana’s performance threatens to make shane’s small smile spread wider, her own big grin growing more and more infectious as he fights against the warm spread of alcohol in his system to maintain a softer, more distant, and less obviously charmed expression. luckily, he doesn’t completely break until her eyes are off him and turned to the rest of the party. unluckily, that won’t stop her from hearing the very audible snort her words pull out of him.

❝ no, please, by all means, ❞ he chuckles through the words. ❝ who else is going to have a better view on that relationship than the best friend ? ❞ not that he needs ana’s insight to come to the conclusion that milo and mila weren’t a great pair. a fine pair, sure, but not the idyllic high school sweethearts others ( except ana, clearly ) seemed to see them as. at the end of the day, colossal wasn’t any different from the other “tightknit” communities he’d seen over the years, it’s members all too invested in the status quo and expectations placed on each other—work here, live there, marry them—to see the actual feelings of those around them. it’s why he ultimately felt the need to step in. if he hadn't, who else would ?