𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 ᶠᵐᵃ:ᵇ

❘ 002 ❘

There was a door behind her.

She could feel it, feel the shadowed hands reaching for her. The whispers nettling into her shoulders, her palms, until her skull split into petals and thorns and mended itself.

There was a door behind her, and the one who had opened it stood across from her.

It tilted its head, eerie grin promising sparks and supernovas. "Trade," it hissed through the whine of electricity and dying stars. Looking at it made her head hurt, the edges of her vision grayed, but she couldn't look away.

There was a door behind her. Something grabbed her hands, and the darkness rushed forward as the door swung closed and it burned and-

―

Her hands had gone numb again.

The warmth of the mug felt like a slow trickle of sand, grating her nerves and smoothing them out at the same time. Her fingers tap, tap, tapped against the glass, prickling with each touch. She watched a droplet of tea trail over the rim, down the side, and onto the black fabric of her glove.

"Is it helping?" She let her eyes slide away from the mug, up, up, up from the notches in the table until she could look just past Riza's eyes. "I know you said chamomile is your favorite." She shrugged. Tea, gloves, it either worked or it didn't, and her hands were still numb. So.

She could hear the creaking of Riza's chair as the woman leaned back. The rainwater dripping from her coat. The lights above hummed at different pitches and her head twitched.

Riza was still looking at her. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," she said. "But if you don't feel safe in your apartment, you can sleep here tonight." It was less an offer, more a reminder; the couch was already covered in pillows and blankets. She knew for a fact that one of her jackets was still here from the last time this happened.

Funny, this happened a lot, but Grey always felt bad for taking up the space.

"I should go," she muttered. She made no move to get up. Tap, tap, tap.

Riza sipped from her mug and glanced out the window. "Alright." Something lodged in her throat. "At least wait for the rain to pass. You'll catch a cold otherwise." She squinted at the woman, eyes flickering from the ridge of her nose to the hallway behind her.

"Okay."

Her hands were still numb when she fell asleep, curled into the corner of the couch.

―

The doorbell barely got its first chime in before the door swung open, and she swung upwards.

"Grey! I'm so glad you could make it to my darling baby girl's birthday!" crowed the man holding her in a bear hug. She couldn't see his face, but by the sing-song voice, it was a safe bet the man was smiling behind his glasses.

She sighed and sank into the hug. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, old man." Maes Hughes scoffed at the moniker and set her down. Gently, it seemed, but she tried to imagine it was to protect the big shiny gift she held, and not because of the bandages wrapped around her neck. He ushered her inside, plucking the gift from her arms and placing it on a table piled high with toys and colorful boxes.

The room was loud, bustling with chatter and shrieking kids that barely came up to her knees. "Elicia! Guess who came to see you!" Maes called out, dragging her through the crowd of adults and children.