Maz fumbles with the key outside their flat and keeps missing the lock. When the door finally unlocks, it is almost disappointing.
Home sweet home. Then why does it feel like you’ve opened the wrong threshold instead?
Eli follows her in, and the click of the door shutting sounds quieter than the fridge buzz from the kitchen.
Maz switches the light on. The bare bulb gives a bright flare before it crackles and dims. She can see the wires inside the glass struggling to glow. The muffled thrums of a bassline and drums bleed through the ceiling and make the lamp tremble.
She looks up.
‘Teardrop’ again? Do they listen to anything else? Oh well… fitting, really, since you’re apparently unable to feel the beat of your very own heart without help. Stop thinking about it.
Eli sheds his jacket and hangs it on the coat tree. The hook reacts with a loud squeak as if a heavier hand were dragging it down. The sound rings out with an echo more suitable for a larger room than the slim hallway they stand in. The rack’s shadow forks into a figure taller than him and wider than itself. It reforms without waiting for his eyes to focus.
He stares at the wall where the shape was a second ago.
Right. Because all we were missing was shadow theatre in weak light. It’s that sort of night, obviously, where it also has to feel like the hall’s somehow stretched slightly longer than before. Completely standard hallway behaviour. Move on, if you can.
A drop of rain from Maz’s hair drips onto her cheek as she hangs up her coat. She slumps against the wall, her hand running across her pocket where the mint tin used to be.
You wanted it gone. You need it yesterday.
They trade glances and make the unspoken decision to ignore the fridge humming louder by the second, or the bathroom door beside Eli that seems to hold itself at a dropped angle.
The window in the lounge down the hall catches their attention when Maz lifts her hand to wipe the drop from her cheek. Her reflection stalls as its eyes turn more gold than brown. Eli lifts his chin; the man in the glass doesn’t bother at all.
“Do you see–” She points ahead with a trembling finger.
“Yeah.” A sigh more than agreement.
He lets a quiet curse slip and walks into the lounge. The back of his hand hits the switch by the kitchen’s wooden archway for a door, which turns on both the kitchen light and the wall lamp in the front room.
She follows him in for a step and stops.
What happened to the colours?
The couch past the kitchen doorway holds a brighter orange in the window’s reflection on its side. The TV that hangs on the wall opposite shows the carpet carrying a deeper blue on its reflected surface.
She turns away and veers towards the kitchen.
The ceiling bulb fades to something weaker as she approaches the countertop. She reaches for the kettle and holds it at a subtle slant to check for any water left inside.
Its shadow on the tiles underneath behaves according to its own laws of its own nature. It stretches in reverse, towards the light. She lets the kettle drop back into place before slapping the power on and walking out into the lounge.
Eli has already taken a seat on the couch and forces his eyes to stay glued to the carpet. She flops down beside him and finds her head a perch at a near hover on his shoulder.
The static snaps between them again. Neither of them moves for it.
He taps his chin on repeat. Their reflected images in the window on their side trip his line of sight.
O…kay. How am I supposed to move on when I’m clearly waiting for the reflections to pull the next trick? Not that the mirrors have been enough already today.
Her knee jitters as her heel thumps its own argument.
Say something. Ask anything that doesn’t make you sound like you’re climbing the walls for that scale. Right. Now. “Did you lock the–”
His effort for a smile dissolves as soon as it begins.
“Let’s not…” He trails off as the reflection on the window doubles them, then corrects itself.
She angles her head towards him and sees the window past his face until Eli’s hand arrives against her temple and shields her gaze.
What if you don’t need it? Maybe all you need is each other.
One second Eli is stroking her temple, and the next, Maz swings herself onto his lap, leaving him with no choice but to grunt in surprise and catch her.
Her weight settles on his legs when she pins him to the cushions and cages his hips with her knees. She frees the clip from her bun and throws it aside, letting her hair cascade down.
She closes her eyes.
What are you doing? This is stupid.
He answers with a quiet laugh and a hand that spreads at her back to pull her in, to the point where their hearts could collide.
We’re here. We’re still here. I can stay here.
They sit forehead to forehead. The rest of the room stays behind Maz’s dark veil of locks draped on either side of them. It holds until the damp strands of her hair begin to slide towards his ear. The room and its window of reflections peek through in slices.
She presses her mouth to his with a firm push. His breath hits her lips as if winded.
The shape they make between them holds until the window catches them at an angle. Their reflected faces leave a strip of untouched air that remains where the kiss should be.
When Maz’s eyes flutter ajar for a brief moment, she catches the gap in the reflection.
“Don’t look.”
Are you warning him or yourself?
“I’m not. Stay with me.”
“I’m trying.”
The lamp dims as the room seems to tilt until it feels as if both the couch and the floor lose their certainty about which way should be the right way up.
They lean in again. Her fingers climb into his curls. The burn mark of his thumb strokes the corner of her mouth as he tries to redraw the moment by touch alone. Warmth builds where their chests meet until it staggers.
His hand travels down and stops by the scar on the side of her neck.
I’m having a massive déjà vu. Unless… we’ve done this. Exactly this. A very long time ago.
Her lips fall motionless against his.
No, then. All you need is more than just each other, apparently.
Maz breaks away with a curse bitten off in half. Eli rests his head against her brow.
“I hate this.” Her whisper gets lost under the kettle’s rattle.
The rain quickens. The pattering of the drops on the window sounds too insistent on being far too random.
Eli starts to turn his head to the glass before he stops himself and locks his gaze on the ceiling instead. The more he stares, the wires hanging unconnected to any lamp seem further above them.
Maz sits back on his legs with her face turned away, angled to the floor. She watches her shadow on the carpet fold inward and ripple into dark shapes that reconsider their outlines. Her gaze lifts back to him.
“Still here?”
His hand slipping into his pocket serves as a nod. He holds the mint tin as his fingers run across the lid’s edge.
I said I’d stop. I always say I’ll stop. I also said I’d never let her do this alone.
He takes the tin out and turns it in his hand. The embossed shape of a snake that winds around its ‘V’ on top stares back at him. He flips the lid open to reveal the last Viper scale that lies inside. The wall lamp’s glow bends around its sleek green and black surface.
Maz watches him as her fingers give a restless twitch.
Say no. Say yes. Either way, it owns you.
Eli tips the tin towards her.
“You want to…?”
She almost laughs, voice a splintered little thing.
“Don’t you?”
He shakes the scale into his hand and drops the tin into his lap between them.
The scale rolls on to the centre without a wobble in its path. He takes a deep breath before pressing his thumb to the scale and cracks it through the middle. The split is so clean that the halves look flawless in his hand as if this were always their shape and this were always where they belonged.
He holds them out.
“Half for you.” His words flow out smoother than his scrunched expression.
Maz looks at the halved scales before taking one between her fingers. Its partly translucent centre shows a small dent in the wall behind Eli like a dark hollow. She tips her half-scale to the back of her tongue and swallows with a wince.
He watches her before he follows.
“Half for me.”
The metallic and bittersweet taste doesn’t overstay its welcome.
Their eyes land on the empty mint tin before finding each other’s as they wait for the hiss to arrive.
Advance chapters available on Patreon now! https://www.patreon.com/TolaLone