merritt motioned a nod of acknowledgement; quick, curt, all in place of a verbal thank you. distractions are sought in place of an awkward morning exchange, both stewarding themselves out of their own zombie-like daze — for annika, a hangover or exhaustion headache at the least, and she? well, two, maybe three hours tops doesn't bode well when she feels responsible for someone else's well-being. " sleep well? " she offers, a pitiful attempt at trying to fill the silence, now uninhibited by the white noise of sizzling eggs and the dull whirr of a toaster oven. " you're not vegan, are you? i made eggs and toast. can make y'something else too, if i've got it. but, honestly, you probably came at the worst possible day. today's grocery day. " smooth, merritt. she laughs to herself, back turned to the other still settling in her surroundings, cringing at her own indiscretion and overstepping. " no! no. oh, fuck, that made it sound like i was, like, slut shaming you or something? no, totally, more power to you, or whatever. just want to make sure your head's in it, you know? " and a pause. " wait, you don't just have sleepovers for fun? like, staying over at people's houses? your friends? " impassioned, but misdirected, turning around to face her again with a furrowed brow. " no, seriously, what the fuck? you're missing out, dude. — just... eat up before you ask anymore questions, 'kay? "

for every word annika offers, merritt volleys three back to her. the wayward enthusiasm disorients her into alertness. it's a distraction from the heavy hum of her hangover between her ears. merritt's chatter strikes something different within her with the glow of the morning behind her. it's not something she can name. "i'm not vegan," she answers simply. heavy eyes linger on unbroken yolks until the direction is given. mechanically, she tears at the corner of toast to poke through the surface. lets it bleed golden across her plate. she feels like a child again. to be fair, she'd probably acted like one to end up at her bartender's house without sleeping with her. "is this how you usually make friends with people ?" a softer question than the knee-jerk reaction: that was fun ? she chews thoughtfully, thoroughly, before attempting directness without sarcasm. "i haven't had a sleepover since middle school. just wish i would've remembered this one." punctuates with another long drag of coffee. stalls for time. prays to the altar of the caffeine to guide her to greater hospitality for this near-stranger who's kindly taken her in and served her, sunny-side up. a long, humble silence, then annika turns the barrel of questioning around to herself. "what happened last night ?"

so grossly averse to confrontation, a meek man in the in-between fibers of a rope about to break — digits furl and unfurl around nothing, he has nothing to offer in the way of sense and solid accountability, accountable for nothing but wishy-washy half-promises, he can promise to want to try but can’t commit to actually trying, can’t handle failure so won’t even try, just — “i’m sorry,” he breaks, voice thick with emotion he hasn’t touched since he was only yay-high and still believed in the good of himself. alex’s expression crumples, wide brown eyes welling. “i don’t know - i’m sorry. i’m sorry, maren. i don’t know what i’m doing, i -“ shame, ugly and cold, drawing a fat rivulet from the corner of his eye. he kills it with the heel of his hand quickly, scowls at his display and angles himself away. mess, facade cracked, mess. he drags a heavy palm down his face, shoulders shuddering around something he won’t let out in full. “it wasn’t supposed to go this far.” the conversation. the situation. either or. when he turns back to face her, his face is torn between desperation and contrition. “i don’t know what to say. tell me what to do. what should i do?” 

apology fractures her resolve like a pebble flung just right against a window, leaves deep creases between her brow like cracks spidering from its impact. typically, she's the one with a hundred atonements at the ready. ( even if it wasn't her fault, if she could match just the right solution, she could always fix it, she swore. ) alex beats her to it this time. steals them right from under her and leaves her with nothing but lips parted mutely in their absence. regret spills heavily from him and she averts her eyes. to spare his dignity and to keep her composure. call it the hoult family motto — you'll get a turn to fall apart, but you can't fall apart at the same time. she swallows past the thickening lump in her throat, though it leaves voice raw with her own emotion. "i'm sorry you regret it so much." was it regret in his confession, or just fear ? if it was regret, was it for her ? so tightly locked that it would've been better to have kept her at arms' length ? "why are you asking me ?" it's not anger, but genuine curiosity, that peeks through before the full onslaught of fast-descending humiliation. expression open like a wound. "why are you asking me how to tell me you didn't want me ?"

When he agreed to be her fake date this weekend, he wasn't sure what he was getting up to. He didn't even know her so well; it was just a matter of helping one another. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as his gaze adverted down towards her. Matter of fact, no. I haven't heard this story before. Is that your way of telling me you want to encourage them to follow the rules of safety?"

slow breath, and she tore her eyes from the group to eye micah instead. "that obvious ?" as if subtlety had ever been a gift of hers. it was that exact overzealous discretion that had left her in the position of needing a fake boyfriend for the trip home. "i don't know. you see enough people after they get hurt doing stuff like this in the ER, and you start looking at the world different, you know ?" kit eyed the half-empty seltzer nested between her hands before taking another sip. "i've been told it makes me super fun at parties."

teodora paused when gwen did. not as quickly. there are heavy breaths as the other speaks. but she wanted to give her the moment. because above all else, this was meant to be something that got them on the same page. even if teo had felt cornered by the sudden accusations from her girlfriend, none of this was meant to be anything more than boundaries and understanding. deep down. past all of the anxious movements and yelling apologies and confusions. "this felt like meeting in the middle to me." it's quieter, but still edged. there are still tears. her face is still red. it was calmer, but only on the surface. "i knew you weren't a big social media person. but i am. if it were up to me, i'd post you the second i could. all the time." another pause. "to me gwen, this was finding that-that compromise. one post. one time to brag about you. to talk about us. no specifics. no tagging. you're not even on there, i figured you especially wouldn't care because of that."

gwen was acutely aware of the small noises of teo's feelings, barely restrained like an overflowing suitcase, stuffed to the brim, having to be sat on to crush the contents into submission. wasn't that what she'd once loved about her ? the big feelings, the passion, the presence of everything right at the surface, when everyone else was so difficult to understand ? but it tangled gwen up all the same, standing across from a girlfriend who . . . didn't understand. might never understand. arms crossed across chest like a shield, and she considered next words with clinical precision. "i know you are." exasperation slipped into her tone. she didn't stop it. "i just wish sometimes you'd stop to ask yourself who you're doing stuff like this for. because it's not for me."

at her suggestion of sleeping in the car, however, Isaac was dragged, promptly, out of his own head. “no — stop. no, you’re not sleeping in the car. I'd prefer you live through the night, thank you very much." his cheeks tinged red as he seemed to realize, a second too late, just how forceful his objection had sounded. “look, it’s fine. this… it’s fine.” Isaac let out a short, breathless laugh, as if trying to evade his own protective instinct. “we’ll just… we can share it. right? we’ll share it.”

composure was a gift, but hardly something misja was born with — only acquired after years of strife, and meticulous practice. so far, margot had been the greatest test of all, and it's only been... well, barely a half-hour, if at all. and yet, call it the call to help, or maybe her own selfish nosiness, this having already been the most interesting case since she'd hauled up and moved, but she was eager and more so curious to see it through. " just come through the side and i'll let you in before you supposedly freeze your ass off in fifty degree weather. the code is five-six-four-seven, since it seems like they've changed it since you've been here last to see indira. " soon, face-to-face with her at her doorway, a taunting grin plastered upon her lips as she leaned against the wooden frame. " do you need a blanket? tea? hot water? don't want you to die of hypothermia, you know. "

the condescension wasn't cute. her ex-lover's name on strange lips, wielded like a barb, driven beneath her skin. and yet, margot did as instructed. dutifully punched in the code — which was different than the one indie used, but not the point — and led herself inside. it was different, because she was flat wrong about what building she'd actually visited before. so she'd been a little drunk and a little lovesick and hadn't bothered to memorize the exact address. sue her ! "how thoughtful," margot huffed, prepped to deny these niceties wrapped in smugness if not for the swaths of bare flesh peppered in goosebumps. in the waning buzz of oncoming sobriety, this beggar had lost the privilege of being a chooser. "yes, all of the above." then, like an afterthought: "i'm margot."

“oh, no... please, bed’s all yours,” Isaac insisted, “I can take the floor. I... uh, prefer the floor, actually.” to prove this deeply unconvincing point, he crouched to pat the musty carpet, once, twice, grin tightening on contact. “yep," forcing a nod. “that’s the stuff, allllright.”

"  yeah,  but  ...  "  her  gaze  turned  towards  who  the  other  had  been  flirting  with,  ready  to  argue  that  the  look  on  her  face  had  nothing  to  do  with  jealousy.  of  course  it  didn't,  why  would  it?  "  why  them?  they're  so  dull.  "

"dull ?" maren snuck another glance over her shoulder, as if she needed one last confirmation before continuing. "ev, what are you talking about ? he's gorgeous ! and apparently his sister is a big fan !" the passion of the moment trickled away, leaving just the sobering hum of confusion. "are you picking up on something i'm not ?"