(un)lucky

two.

"For fuck's sake." Mel snaps, sitting up finally joining the conversation—and ending it, abruptly. "Can you guys, shut the fuck up?"

They all fall silent, obedient, like a pack of wolves listening to its alpha.

"I have had a splitting headache all morning," she grits out. "And all you guys can talk about is some girl? I looked her up, by the way, this Anastasia Wang—" she spits the name out in annoyance, "—and there weren't any hits. She's probably some college student that came to the middle of nowhere to make some shitty film for her project. So, can we end this?"

And just like that, the topic is finished. Billie goes back to her book, Keith pulls out his phone and Mamés's eyes never leave Mel.

To be fair she's looking at him too, glaring actually, it makes his stomach turn inside out. "You texted me. Something about getting me yoghurt but here you are empty-handed."

He takes a sharp intake of breath. Dealing with Mel's anger never gets easier. She's a lot of a person—so there, here, everywhere and overwhelming. A heavy weight constantly on his chest but as painful as it is he wouldn't be able to stand it if the pressure was gone. The era before Mel, when he spent his days with his face buried in the ground, pinned down by heavyweight boots on his back.

"I'm sorry," he starts quickly. His apology is sincere but it comes out rehearsed even to his ears. "Let me make it up to you."

Pause. Her blue eyes perk up a fraction and he holds his breath. "I'm listening."

"Brunch," He says. "Jackie is still out of town. That means you haven't had a home-cooked meal in weeks."

"Bribing me with food again?" she asks, shaking her head. Despite her dull answer, her mouth slants upwards. "Okay, I'll bite."

Mamés' relief crashes down on him, swift and unexpected. Sometimes he forgets that Mel is his best friend. No matter what shit she throws at him, she loves him the way no one can.

"Okay," he claps his hands and stands. "I guess I'll head to the kitchen."

Billie's head lifts. "Wait, Mamés is cooking?" Her tongue darts out wetting her lips. "I was going to head to the library but maybe I'll stay for a little while?" She mumbles softly as if talking to herself but they can all hear her.

"You might want to wipe the drool on your face, Bill." Keith rolls his eyes and stands. "I'm outta here, see you mongrels later."

He opens the window, gives a last two-fingered salute, and jumps out.

"I hate when he does that," Mel brittles. "Why can't he go through the door like a normal person? My mom has started nagging about the tree again."

"I'll wait for you downstairs," Billie says. She looks at the window Keith jumped out and shakes her head, mumbling softly. "I'll take the stairs."

A small laugh springs out from his mouth and when Mel joins him an arrow tears through his heart.

Mel rolls out of bed when the door shuts behind Billie, leaving them alone together.

It's funny. Funny how much of a difference it makes. Now that the steel rods of anticipation and dread have been delicately plucked out by her sharp tenses and milky teeth. It's funny how easily he can breathe now. He sucks in a huge breath, almost like an apology to his lungs. Sorry, my dudes.

"Get up," she says. "I think you're sitting on the shirt I want to change into."

He obeys with a grumble throwing himself on her bed instead. He buries his face into her pillow drowning the noise of changing behind him with the lingering smell of her orange-scented shampoo.