Chapter Text
"What can I do? Hey...".
She knew someone was so close to her that their knee touched hers. Knees. Head. Heart. Hands. The entirety of the world was fervently shaking. She couldn't handle it. She was never enough. Maybe that could be okay. The world would erupt and then transform into nothing. She wanted to be nothing. She just wanted it to stop. She–
Warmth. Her hand gravitated to a beating heart—it moved slower, but it was calm. Each beat allayed the earthquake bit by bit. Chills ran down her back, but all she wanted to focus on at that moment was the heart underneath her fingertips. She was on the ground. They were both outside, and the music of laughter coming from her apartment animated the ground.
Soft. She dug her nails between the threads of a dress shirt. She was too exhausted to run. As she looked down, he drew circles on her hand and she felt him relax when she started doing the same to his heart. Her apartment. The party. How long had she been away? She hardly got the chance to slink her hand away; he held it there, but she found her breathing calm despite her anxiety.
"We can sit here for as long as you need. No one's trashing the place or anything, you're good."
Her head propped up.
A shirt, yes. But this one was black and buttoned all the way up. A voice, definitely. But this one was distinctly British. A chef, obviously. This one she'd just met and had been freely dancing the night away with.
Her head hit the back of a wall and she stared upwards. It was true that she felt a wave of disappointment.
"Do you want everyone to leave, now?"
No, she thought. She nodded her head at him anyway.
"You can laugh in my face if you want, but do you want to talk about it?"
"At some point," she replied, mustering up energy to show him a smile. Once she felt ready, he lifted her up.
It was true, there was a dull ache in her chest when she noticed. But it was also true, that was the first time in months she felt she stood on solid ground. She held back a laugh. It was funny how much she couldn't control.
Carmen hadn't thought this through. That much was clear when he was face to face with Sydney, insistently rubbing at her eyes and in what he assumed was her night attire. Between her adjusting to the streetlights and Carmen uncontrollably trying not to stare at her bare legs, he was confused about where he should look, so he conceded to stare at his shoes, the same ones he had worn earlier at the funeral.
"Carmy?" He snapped his neck up. He took a step forward once he registered she closed the door more than he was okay with, but she waved her hand, gestured down at herself and they both came to a mutual understanding. Her face was twisted in confusion. "W-what are you doing here?"
"I...," he started, but he didn't finish. She seemed startled. Maybe she was just cold, it was only just coming dawn, and she was wearing shorts, and a light pink headscarf hiding her braids. He stayed on her doorstep all the same, and her mouth dipped and he wondered for the billionth what she was thinking so he could tell her what she wanted to hear, or whatever words would make her open her front door and let him in.
"You were saying...?"
"Oh, um...". Okay, so he didn't have even an outline of a plan for how he would approach this. A part of him figured she'd be fast asleep, and he would have to talk to her later, but her apartment felt far from the restaurant, so he rubbed his chin as he tried and failed to work out what time she'd have to leave for work. For once, he tried his hardest to look ahead and saw her staring back at him. She had that expression, the one where she had her head cocked to the side, her eyes low and her nose twitching a small fraction. She had many of these faces that Carmen had burned into his memory, many of them looked too similar to disappointment, but he had a feeling she'd like what he had to show her.
"Carmy, I asked what are you doing here?"
"I– I have the review." Her eyebrows moved up, but she still kept the door where it was.
"Okay...".
"I thought you'd like to read it. We can read it together." Too much. That was his intention, however.
"Right–," he took a step forward, but Syd closed the door further, "–So why didn't you come before? When I had the party at my place?"
"It wasn't sent to me then." And Carmen hadn't checked his phone at that point either, Syd texted him her address hours ago, and he'd only noticed it after taking a breather from the hell the night had bestowed upon him. When he saw her text immediately after the notification of the review, he felt lighter, his heart carrying him without a second thought.
"Okay, so this couldn't have waited until, I don't know, in a couple hours' time, when everyone's at work?"
"Syd, this review is a big deal, I thought you'd want to read it."
"I mean, sure, but that's not what I asked."
"You should be the one to see it first."
"Why?"
Why? "Because this is our thing, so, we should read this before anyone else does."
Carmen blinked. He caught a glimpse of a barrage of emotions passing over Sydney's features, but it was gone before he could react. "Mmm. Well, I am pretty tired and I'm going to have to get ready for work soon. If that's truly the reason, Carm, it can wait."
"No! Wait–," she jumped, "–Sorry, I just. I'm just saying, it would be good if you read it."
She sighed. "That's... Not a good enough reason. Why have you come here? What's so bad about waiting until working hours, which is pretty much 24/7, but still?"
"Because–," her brown eyes widened in expectation, he couldn't see her fully, she wasn't letting this one slide,"–Because you... You make things better. I–I'm not excited for what's in this review, but I know that if I read it with you, it will all feel better. That's why."
He saw the shift. She pursed her lips, shook her head, and then stared at him for a while. He stared back for as long as he could. The door shrunk away from his line of sight at his shoes, and he made a beeline for it before she had a chance to decide against it.
"Mm. We can talk in the living room. Sorry, there isn't a lot of furniture, or anything really."
Carmen never lost sight of Syd as she shuffled around her tiny kitchen and he noted every detail of her place. She was right. It wasn't "Syd enough". Most of her belongings were still in boxes and even the most colourful thing in the room was faded. The couch squeaked as he settled down, Syd coming with two glasses of water, narrowly avoiding her fingers brushing against his as she handed one to him.
Another face. She hadn't put the lights on, but he recorded whatever passed over her face as she sat down as far away from him as possible. He drank in silence. Hers was abandoned on the floor. His phone burned a hole in his suit jacket.
"So, the review. You haven't read it?" He shook his head. "Okay. Let's read it."
He pulled out his phone. He unlocked it. He swiped to the review. She tried to take it, but he pulled it away from her. If she saw it, this would be over. Somewhere in his head, he was kicking himself for being like this, but he couldn't help it. He wanted them to stay like this for as long as possible, even though time was never on his side.
"You don't want to read it?"
"No."
"Okay. So what do you want to do?"
He caught her screwing up her face the second she said it. He wanted to know why.
"What's up?"
She rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she answered: "A lot."
"Do you–?"
"–Want to talk about it? Not really–".
"–Oh, that's fine, you don't–".
"–But I need to, 'cause, I just don't know if not saying it is worth the pain in comparison to if I do. I don't know if that makes any sense."
Pause. He could only stare back at her. She sucked in her lips and turned away. The couch squeaked as he moved closer. He dug his hands into the couch on either side of him, her body quivering as she took long breaths through her mouth.
"I have a lot to say," she started, her voice so quiet he doubted he'd hear her if the central heating was on, "–and, just don't... Let me speak, and don't interrupt me, please?"
"Yeah...".
Something broke when she jerked away from his hand on her back. She had her arms wrapped around herself, her fingers clawing at her sweatshirt and her eyes squeezing shut.
Here goes nothing.