☆

Your fingers typed on your laptop’s keyboard at the speed of light, you were dying to finish the last lab report of the day. Work had been kicking your behind for the past couple of weeks, and all you needed was a break. A sigh escaped your lips when you finally sent it to your supervisor, slumping down in your lumpy office chair as a weight felt like it had been lifted off of your shoulders.

After you received a promotion, your free time had been cut short. Thankful for the increase in salary, but you hated the amount of attention that the job needed. Science was a passion of yours, has been for years, but the load you had to take on took a toll on your mental wellbeing, social life, and relationship with your son.

Micah was five years old and such a surprise. The day you found out you were pregnant was an amusing one to put in layman terms. The positive pregnancy test made you burst into laughter, there was no possible way that you could be pregnant. But alas, nine months later, you pushed out a beautiful seven pound baby boy .

Light footsteps made their way down the hall, and in popped a drowsy Micah who was patiently waiting for you to get done with your work. It was your favorite time of the night, bedtime. The couple of uninterrupted moments you had with him calmed your nerves immensely.

“You done yet mama?” He hazily asked, trying his best to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

A smile creeped across your lips, no matter what mood you were in, his little face would cheer you right up. You placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head, caressing his cheek. "Yea im done sweet boy. Ready for bed?"

He nodded his head and yawned, raising his arms up, signaling for you to pick him up. You scooped him into your arms, making your way down the hall and into his room. Dinosaur posters and fake greenery decorated the walls, a night light dimly luminating the area next to his bed.

He snuggled into his sage green bedding, cuddling with the triceratops plushie that accompanied him every night, "We have to finish my favorite book, you promised we would."

His eyes gestured to the book sitting atop his nightstand. Llama Llama Red Pajama, a book that mothers normally finished with their children in one night, but your career got in the way of that.

"Llama llama red pajama gets two kisses from his ma-"

Story time was cut short when little snores filled the room.

The beakers in front of you glowed hot pink, a sign that your expirement had failed yet again. An aggitated groan escaped your lips as you marked down yet another incorrect expirement.

“For fucks sake!” You cursed yourself, frustration beginning to bubble over. It had been weeks since you started, and it felt like you were getting no where. The deadline for fininshing it was approaching and stressed could not begin to describe you.

You tore through your notes, fingers finding your temples, attemping to massage the impending migraine. The equations and formulas were starting to muddle together and look like gibberish on paper. Anything would be better than standing in this lab right now.

What sounded like a stampede of footsteps bombarded your ears, initially disrupting the stress session you were having. The double doors to the lab slammed open to reveal a group of Dora Milaje. You tried to blame the scene you were witnessing on your lack of sleep. There was simply no possible explanation for them to be in America, let alone your place of work.

Okoye stepped from the group and closer to you, the familiar face eased your nerves a bit. Her eyes were kind and a small smile tugged at her lips, "You’ve been summoned young one."

Reality set in when the person that you’d least expect stepped from behind them. Shuri Udaku. Your body stiffened and mouth ran dry. After all that time spent apart you thought that you would never hear from her again, let alone be five feet away from each other.

Her slim figure towered over you, a look of nostalgia in her eyes. The mere sight of her made the air flee from your lungs. You could have swore you would fall right in this moment.

"Shuri? What are you- Why are you here?"

No words left her mouth, she simply tilted her head to the side, analzying you. You never felt more awkward a day of your life. It had been almost six years since the two of you even breathed the same air, yet it was like she hadnt changed a bit. It was truly like you had stepped into a time machine.

"I know im not the person youd expect to see, but I’m in dire need of your help.”

Her tone was serious, like she was on the verge of pleading. For the time that you had gotten to know Shuri, you quickly found out that she was not one to ask for help. Exhaustion and frustration would invade her body before she admitted that she couldn’t solve something on her own.

Her eyes locked on yours as she took a step closer, "This is urgent. You are the only one I know qualified for this, and I need you in Wakanda immediately."

Your eyes went wide. There was absolutely no way she expected you to drop everything and follow her to a different country.

“In what world would I drop everything and follow behind you?" You crossed your arms, a puzzled look plastered across your face.

Shuri sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose,"I have already advised your supervisor of your upcoming absence, everything is taken care of," She blew out a slow deep breath. "I will send a ship to your residence later tonight. I need you on it and in Wakanda by eight am tomorrow."

A million questions echoed throughout your brain. How did she find you? Why did she need you in particular? What was this important project she needed help on? And most importantly, how in the hell did she find out where you lived?

You threw your hands up and paced around the lab, "You have the gall to barge into my lab, interrupt my research, and demand that I leave with you last minute?" You scoffed before placing your hands on your hips, "You are the most selfish-"

"You know me, and you know that I am not one to beg. I expect you to on that ship tonight."

She turned on her heels and walked back through the double doors. You tried to run after her and explain how unbelievable she was being but spears and bald heads stopped you before you could even approach the door frame.

The sounds of footsteps, armor, and spears hitting the tiled floor got quieter as they marched down the hall. You could do nothing but stand in the same spot where they left you, dumbfounded.

The sound of your heart pounding against your ribs took over your senses. The minutes on the clock ticked by faster than usual. It truly felt like you were going to shit bricks. It wasnt going to wakanda that was undigestible, it was facing Shuri that put so much anxiety into you.

Your time working under her was extremely insightful. Being in one of the most advanced countries and y alongisde an absolute gennius was an experience that you will forever be grateful for. Many techniques that she taught you helped shape the reserach that you conduct today.

A loud knock at your door snatched your attention from your thoughts, it got more perisstent the longer you stared at it. Your feet were glued to the ground, leaving you frozen in position.

"i know you’re in there, please don’t make this difficult." Okoye's muffled voice warned from the other side of your front door.

Of course shed send someone else to come get you. You opened it just enough to where she couldn’t see inside. A dumb decison. she forced her way in, pushing you aside in the process.

"Okoye look-"

She held her hand up, hushing you, "Princess shuri sends for you, and I cannot leave without you on that ship." She glances around your living room, "Where are your bags? You should be prepared by now."

You went to open your mouth to speak again, "I cant just le-"

Okoye banged her spear on the floor, "You are needed for one of the most important matters of wakanda. shuri, the queen, the elders, bast, the entire country is counting on your knowledge!"

You let out a frustrated sigh, "I get that but I can’t up and leave."

You knew talking to her would be like talking to a brick wall, but you were still persistent, "I cant leave, on late notice at that. Tell Shuri she will have to figure this out on her o-"

"Mama? You still have to read my bedtime story."

Micah stepped out of his room, dressed in his favorite spiderman pajamas, clutching onto the same book that you two have read together a million times. You watched as okoye's gaze fixed on him, her eyes growing wide as realization set in.

She focused her gaze back on you, "Does she know of him?"

"Okoye-"

“Is he Shuri’s?”

You couldn’t lie if you wanted to, Micah was a spitting image of Shuri. A thick silence hung in the air before you answered, “Yes.”

With that she turned on her heels, booking it for the door. Your stomach dropped to your ass at the thought of anyone finding out about the other parent of your son, let alone the parent herself. Without thinking you grabbed Okoye's wrist, desparate to keep her from telling anyone else.

"And you will not tell her!"

Her eyes shot from you to your digits wrapped tightly around her forearm before snatching it from your grip. She straightend her posture and regained her composure. Her voice was monotone and calm.

"Please remember that i do not take orders from you. my loyalties lie with my country," She took a deep breath, trying to find the words to say. "How could you keep this from her? Who would I be if I kept this secret from Shuri"

The year you worked wiht shuri was an educational one, in many ways. When you two weren’t working late nights in the lab, you were spending them in the privacy of shuri's bedroom. You couldnt pinpoint what exactly started the fling, but you noticed the very obvious pregnancy symptoms a week after you returned home. Vibranium sex toys were at the top of your 'never again' list after that.

You spent every night of your pregnancy debating on telling Shuri about the baby, it and the constant kicking kept you up at night. The more your belly grew, the more the guilt ate away at you. Next thing you knew, five years had passed.

You took Micah into your arms, "Okoye please don’t do this, at least let me tell her myself. I’ll do anything."

She pursed her lips, fingers gripping tightly around her spear, "Get on the ship and my lips are sealed."

You snatched the goggles off of your face, finally finishing the project you and Shuri were working on. It had been hours and your brain had gone completely numb from using it all day, "Ya know, if I’m going to be working on this mysterious ass machine all day can I at least know what it's for?"

Shuri shot a look at you, "Ah, there’s the feistiness I remember."

"And you still the smart ass I remember."

You took a seat on the nearest chair, running your fingers through your locs. Everything on your body ached, back, knees, arms, feet. Shuri took a seat next to you, taking your calloused hand and massaging it, "if i knew you had an extra guest I would have contacted you sooner, I’m sorry."

You stared at her hand holding yours. The hairs on the back of your neck beginning to stand up. You took your hand back and stuffed it into your pocket, "Yea, a heads up would have been good either way."

Shuri took the time to study you. The voluminous afro you once sported was now thick dreadlocs that brushed your collarbone. Nose rings that adorned both nostrils were now gone. You and your appearance overall matured.

Shuri layed her head against the wall, "I can't believe you’re a mother now." She her gaze met yours, "you never thought to tell me?"

A deep pit started to form in your stomach. From the questions Shuri was asking and the tone of her voice, you started to question the integrity of Okoye’s promise.

"He takes up all of my time, I couldn't if I wanted to."

A dry chuckle escaped her mouth, "How old is he?"

And there it was. The question that would either crash this entire conversation or make a nice story to tell. The pit in your stomach sunk even deeper. Your throat ran dry and your eyes found anywhere to look but hers, "He made five last month."

Shuri's eyebrows raised, her curisoty obviously piqued. The air in the room grew thicker and hotter with each passing second, "Five? If his birthday was last month then that means you would have had to been preg-"

You held your breath as she connected to dots, a skeptical look slowly dancing across her face. Your fingers picked at the buttons on your lab coat. this conversation was one to be had in your worst nightmares, and it shook you to your core. You knew Shuri- every aspect of her- but you had no clue on how she would react to this news.

A hard expression was plastered across her face as she stared into space. The vein on her left temple started to show and throb. She was hesitant to start her sentence, not finding the words to begin to describe what she was feeling.

“Then that means-“ Her eyes met yours, the look in them enough to confirm the question that she had.

"A-a son," her hands clasped together. "I- we have a son and you never thought to tell me about it?"

Her calm demeanor scared you more than the truth finally coming out. A sharp breath escaped her lips before she turned her attention toward you. Her expression was even more noticeable as your gaze met hers.

"Were you even going to tell me," She stood to her feet, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You let me spend five years unaware that I have a child out in the world!"

This very argument played in your head like a movie since the day you found out you were pregnant. In every scenario you had your answers loaded, ready to rebuttal. Now? Your mind went blank.

“Shuri I swear I wanted to tell you-“

She began to pace back and forth, a million questions filling her brain. “Then why wouldn’t you? You let me go this long without knowing?!”

You had no good answers to her questions, all were selfish excuses. Your thumbs twiddled as you thought of what to possibly say, but nothing popped into your mind. Shuri’s met yours, the guilt that had been eating you alive for half a decade starting to hit you, tears starting to run down your cheeks. It felt like you were living your worst nightmare, and you indeed were.

“Shuri please just- just listen to me."

"Listen?! You want me to listen to you?" Her voice boomed throughout the lab, sending a shiver down your spine. "You expect to listen and believe anything you say after you kept this from me?"

Her eyes held this darkness in them that made your body feel like putty. You regained your composure before you finally spoke up, “You think I enjoyed keeping him from you?”

Shuri’s eyes grew wider as your voice grew louder. “Did you even once, think about how I felt when I found out I was pregnant?”

Shuri pursed her lips, “That doesn’t negate the fact that you never even thought to call me.”

“I thought about it every single day. Every time he would kick, every crazy craving I had, after every doctor's appointment.” You took a deep breath, “Shuri please just-“

“So why go through all that by yourself? We could have figured something out!” She started to step closer to you, her voice now softened but her tone was still sharp. “We could have raised him together!”

“How huh? You wanted me to stay in Wakanda? Or would you rather we put him on a ship every time we switch weeks?” Your voice grew more shaky with each word and you lip uncontrollably quivered, “Because we both know you wouldn’t leave this lab, baby or not.”

“You don’t know th-“

“Oh but I do. You were so caught up in your work, your mother had to practically order you to take an off day.”

Shuri’s eyes softened. She remembered the summer you two had spent together. While you were asleep, Shuri was itching to get back in the lab. The next morning you would find her in yesterday’s clothes, hopped up on coffee with bags under her eyes.

“And honestly Shuri……I didn’t think you’d want him.”

The stray tears that ran down your cheeks were now waterfalls. To finally admit the thing you were most scared of half a decade later felt like a deep sigh. As pitiful as it sounded, that was the truth.

“I didn’t want to fight about it so I just-“

“Left.” Shuri cut you off, “You left, like you always did.”

“Excuse me-“

“When things get hard you leave. Bast, we argued and you left Wakanda!”

The day you went back home, you and Shuri did have a disagreement. It was so stupid looking back on it. She wanted you to stay for a year, but you had to go back to school. That summer was the only time you were supposed to be there.

“Shuri I had to go back-“

By this time Shuri was standing directly in front of you, close enough for you to smell the lingering scent of her perfume. “But you didn’t. You could have stayed. You got scared and you left— you left me!”

She quickly wiped the tear that had pricked her eye. You could tell they were filled with hurt, “And the fact you would even think so lowly of me- you thought I wouldn’t want my- our- child?”

She scoffed and shook her head in disbelief, “I missed so much of his life because all you know how to do is avoid conflict. That’s what hurts the most.”

And with that she turned on her heels, storming out of the lab, leaving you there with the feeling of regret.

“Mother I don’t think this is right.” Shuri shook her head.

“What isn't right is her keeping him from you, he has a responsibility now that he’s here.”

“He’s only five-“

“Your father was eight when your grandfather started preparing him. Your brother was ten, so what’s the difference.”

The night Shuri had found out about Micah, she ran for the first person that she could trust, her mother. Ramonda was furious. Not just for her daughter's feelings, but for the fact that numerous rules had been broken with no remorse.

After T’Challa’s death, Shuri was next in line for the throne. Due to her love for her work and natural allegiance to women, her mother knew the lineage ended with her. Now that Micah was in the picture, that worry was gone.

“He has no idea what he’d be in for. We can’t just take him.”

Ramonda turned to face Shuri, “He’s your son just as much as he is hers.”

The knots in your stomach got tighter as you read the text from Shuri over.

Meet me in the throne room, immediately.

Your feet grew heavy with each step you took, the hallway feeling as if it got longer the more you walked. Every possible scenario played like a movie in your head, the worst ones more prominent than the others. The large doors glistened as you stood before them, before you could push them yourself, they opened before you, revealing Shuri and an obviously upset Queen. Ramonda had never taken a liking to you, you thought she was that way with everyone, but you were proven wrong shortly after that.

“I’ll get straight to it,” Ramonda started as she stared holes into you, “Micah is of Wakandan blood. Blood of a royal to be specific.”

The anticipation killed you. Your heartbeat filling your ears.

“He is next in line for the throne. You know of this, yes?”

Shuri looked at you with an empathetic look, she couldn’t bear to keep eye contact for too long.

“No.”

Ramonda stepped closer to you, her eyes never leaving yours. “Ah, so you don’t know that Shuri has to produce an heir.”

You connected the dots fairly quickly. The rest of the words she was saying slurred together as you zoned out. Micah didn’t know of Shuri. It had always been the two of you. The thought of him being taken away made you lightheaded.

“You’re not taking my son.”

“Take? Child, by law he’s ours, there is no negotiation.”

Shuri began to chime in, “Mother-“

“You leave us in the dark for this long, and I have to find out about my grandson like this? You’re lucky I haven’t had you thrown out my country by now.”

“Mother that’s enough.”

Your hands began to shake, there was no way this could be happening. They couldn’t possibly take him from you, could they?

“I’m all he knows, you-you can’t just take him-“ Tears began to blur your vision, “I’m sorry for not telling you, but please- please I'll do anything!”

Shuri knew this was wrong, everything about it. Seeing you break down in front of her at the thought of losing Micah was something she couldn’t live with if it happened.

“Mother we can’t.”

“But he’s-“

She held her hand up, cutting her mother’s sentence. Something she knew she would regret later, “We can’t strip him from all he knows, especially like this.”

Ramonda stormed out of the room, leaving this two of you. The tension in the air was suffocating.

“I am so sorry.” Shuri started, “This isn’t what I wanted.”

You pursed your lips, “This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

She tried to take your hand into hers but you immediately shoved it away, “How could you- why would you even-“ You couldn’t find the words for her, you couldn’t even fathom her doing this.

“Please believe me-“

“I don't believe shit! I know something like this would happen."

Shuri didn’t have the words to say to you. There weren’t any to make up for the anxiety that you had just been put through, especially at her hand.

“Mama this is boring.” Micah sighed as you two worked to finish a puzzle.

You chuckled at the obviously uninterested child, “Ah c’mon! It’s a puzzle of a T-rex, your favorite!”

He played with a puzzle piece before looking back up at you, “Yea but puzzles aren’t.”

The doorbell rang before you could respond. You furrowed your brows as you weren’t expecting anyone, and it was getting quite late.

“At least try to finish it, I’ll be right back.”

You opened the door to Shuri, hands stuck in the pockets of her hoodie.

You peeked at Micah before cracking the door behind you, “What are you doing here?”

Shuri looked down at her feet and took a deep breath before responding, “I wanted to apologize. I never wanted things to go how they did.”

“Okay. This could’ve been a text.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“I want to see him. Please…..just give me that?”

Shuri’s demeanor wasn’t like it usually was. The normally confident, and outspoken woman stood in front of you shy and reserved. As much as you wanted to say no, the look in Shuri’s eyes made you question that decision. You chewed on your bottom lip as you contemplated. On one hand, you just wanted Shuri to leave the two of you alone. On the other, she had a right to her own child.

You sighed and stepped to the side, inviting her into the house. “Take things slow, Shuri.”

She gave a reassuring nod as she crossed the threshold of your home. There sat Micah, still at the table playing with puzzle pieces. He had put some of the pieces together, but you could still tell he wasn’t enjoying it. His attention turned to you to as you got closer to the table.

“Hi princess Shuri.” He greeted her quietly. Micah was never excited to meet new people. Quite the shy child.

Shuri gave a weak smile as she admired him. It was like she spit the boy out, your genes didn’t even try. From his smile to his eyes, he was all Shuri.

“Hi little one. Unjani?”

Micah scrunched his face up at the unfamiliar word, “What’s that mean princess Shuri?”

“Please, just call me Shuri.” She grinned, “It means how are you.”

“I’d be better if mama didn’t make me do this puzzle.” The child dramatically sighed.

“Hey, It was supposed to fun!” You butted in.

“Well It’s not fun.” Micah turned his attention back to Shuri, “Are you here because we have to go back to Wakanda again?”

“No, I’m here to…..” Shuri looked back at you for help, not knowing what to say.

“She’s here to see you baby.”

“Me? Why?”

It was easy to distract her brain from the chaos consuming her life, by staying in her garage, by working on her suit. That way, she was in control of the thoughts being birthed, thoughts that consisted of equations, and algorithms, and dimensions. Anything irrelevant to her work got shoved into the deepest parts of her skull—unretrievable unless she was alone, or, in the setting she currently resided in.

In front of Dr. Fring—her therapist.

It’d been weeks since her last session, an intentional act on Riri’s end. She ignored emails and texts, dodged phone calls, the young genius even went out of her way to abandon her favorite hardware store, simply because she knew Dr. Fring frequented the coffee shop right around the corner. A lot of effort to avoid a single person, sure, but Riri deemed her actions worth it. She wanted to evade that fracture in time’s veil for as long as she could.

Yet somehow, ending up here was inevitable.

Riri chose to beget her own stagnancy now, because as much as she tried, she could never outrun her thoughts, her feelings. They were as real as she was, and it didn't take a licensed professional to help her realize that. She needed Dr. Fring for reassurance though, however condescending she thought the woman to be, Riri could admit her guidance was warranted.

Without her therapist, she found herself in a self-deprecating loop with no end, one where she relentlessly punished herself for the things she felt but shouldn't feel, images she couldn't sleep away, and a monster she could never escape. He fed on her guilt and she let him, thinking herself deserving of the pain.

“Why them and not you?”

“What makes you so special?”

Perched on her shoulder, he’d whisper sour nothings in her ear, filling her stillness with his devilish murmur. And because she hadn't an angel in the other ear, equipped with combative words of their own, she found herself believing him.

That was until, Dr. Fring entered the chat. She challenged those beliefs, spent months chipping away at the barricades protecting them, all in attempts to strengthen Riri’s self image, and she appreciated the older woman's efforts wholeheartedly. But in true Riri Williams’ fashion, she could never admit that out loud, nor could she make the task an easy one.

Riri sat across from Dr. Fring, sizing her up like a predator would its prey. Time dragged like molasses down a cold wall, each second clinging stubbornly to the clock’s hands just to spite her. Riri sat there, arms crossed and jaw clenched, watching the minutes crawl by like they had nothing better to do.

“Riri? Would you like me to repeat the question?” She regarded the short girl with a pleasant smile, one untested by Riri’s sullen demeanor.

Dr. Fring was a slender, fair skinned woman who wore circular wire rimmed glasses, and a red lip, always. It was unclear to Riri if the shade of red varied upon each visit, she didn't see the woman nearly enough to notice, nor did she quite care. What she did note though, was the signature way her therapist’s blood stained lips would stretch into that mocking smile each time she was made to repeat a question Riri purposely ignored.

She was so smug, so proud of her ability to see through Riri’s facade, as if she wasn't already painstakingly aware that her cunning held no weight in this room, in her presence. Out there, in the real world, Riri got away with so much, was able to hide so much—too much.

But not here. And she loathed every single second of it.

Riri huffed, “Uh, yeah.”

“I asked how you’ve been. It's been some time since our last session, so I’d like to know what brought you back today.”

Riri chuckled to herself, “Well, I’m here, so what does that tell you about how I’ve been?”

“You know, you don't always have to answer my questions with snarky ones of your own. This is a safe space, your safe space, it is perfectly okay to say what you're thinking.”

“See that's where you're wrong Doc.”

Dr. Fring tilted her head to the side, her freshly retwisted locs swaying with the motion, inquiring the same as her. “Help me understand what you mean.”

“You said it's perfectly okay to say what I’m thinking.”

“Correct.”

Riri shook her head, “That's not true.”

“Why do you believe that?”

Riri sensed the genuine curiosity in the woman's words, and she rolled her eyes involuntarily; she wasn't really in the mood to explain why her thoughts were fucked up, and how much they infringed on her morals. But, she supposed that was the point of her decision to come here today—to open up.

It took her a moment to respond, too busy overthinking her answer, still believing there was indeed a wrong one, and she couldn't chance repeating it. “I uh… I’ve been having the dreams again.”

Riri hoped this sentence would be enough to convey the weight of her sorrows, and when Dr. Fring sighed apologetically, she knew her confession was received.

“For how long?”

“Off and on, for the past few weeks…” Riri exhaled, “But uh, it was really bad this past weekend.”

Dr. Fring nodded as she scribbled away in her beloved purple notebook, “Did something happen over the weekend that could've triggered them?”

“I guess you could say that.”

She allowed her mind to think back to Sunday night, and everything that happened. And then she couldn't stop her thoughts from drifting further and further back, fighting to pinpoint the exact moment her demise began. They landed on you, just as she knew they would, and Riri shuddered. You always placed yourself at the forefront of her memories, existing as the object of all her desires.

Riri could feel her therapist’s eyes on her. The woman was studying her contorting face, dissecting her, assessing her internal struggle in preparation for her next question. “You’ve said before that the nightmares often come when you’re feeling guilty, when something is weighing heavily on you. Can you tell me what’s been happening lately, Riri?”

Her eyes flickered towards Dr. Fring before dropping back to her lap, voice tight. “I don't know. It's just… everything’s been too much.”

“I know things can feel overwhelming, but something has triggered these nightmares again. And it's okay to talk about them.”

Riri shook her head, her breaths shallow. She could feel the words building up in her throat, clawing desperately at her flesh; they wanted out, but she wouldn't let them. “It's uh, it's not that simple Doc.”

She was avoiding eye contact with Dr. Fring, finding fascination in the arm of the couch, her fingers familiarizing themselves with the idle threads residing there. This was also another attempt to keep her mouth shut. If she wasn't looking at Dr. Fring, her thoughts would remain on the inside. Sound logic, to her anyway.

But said logic did not keep the shame at bay. It continued to rise in the back of her throat like stinging bile, choking her as she struggled to swallow it back down. She shouldn't even be considering it, saying everything out loud. She'd only just admitted it all to herself recently, and look how well she's handled it since. Admitting this to Dr. Fring could change everything.

There were a million “what if's” banging against Riri’s skull, on top of everything else she wished she wasn't thinking.

“What if she thinks I’m a horrible person?”

“What if she's disappointed in me?”

“Or worse…what if I say the bad thing out loud, she understands, and then I’ll have to actually face it?”

“I know it feels that way, but you don't have to carry this on your own. I can see how much you're struggling with whatever this is, and I can assure you, we can talk it through. No judgment, just understanding.”

Riri sighed, “How can you understand something I don't even fully understand myself?”

“Okay, so explain to me the parts that you do understand.”

There was a pause, one that felt like it dragged on forever as Riri sat there. She pulled her legs onto the couch, tucking them beneath herself, as if trying to appear smaller than she already was. When she opened her mouth to speak, her typically steady voice cracked along with her defenses, and they began to falter.

“These thoughts I’m having, these feelings, they’re uh… they're keeping me up at night.” She began, eyeing Dr. Fring shamefully.

The doctor nodded for her to continue.

“Every night, when I close my eyes, I-I see my dad, I see Natalie. And it's like I’m right back there, frozen, watching it all happen again—watching them die. I’m reliving that pain over and over, feeling that guilt, and I’m reminded of the worst thing I've ever done.”

Dr. Fring straightened her back, leaning in with quiet intensity toward the trembling girl, her gaze sharp and unwavering, “Riri, we’ve talked about this. What happened to your loved ones was not your fault. You didn't do anything w–”

“Yes, I did. I survived. I walked away and they didn't. I got a second chance I clearly didn't deserve, because now I'm fucking it all up. And every time I try to sleep, I see them, and I can tell they're ashamed of me.”

“Why do you think they're ashamed of you?”

“Because Dr. Fring, I’m not a good person,” She blew a jagged breath, frantically swatting at tears that had escaped unnoticed. “I keep hurting the people I care about.” Riri could feel her chest constricting as she said the words, ignoring her body’s pleas for her to bolt.

Dr. Fring’s voice was calm and steady as she tried to ground Riri, “You aren't messing everything up, you're hurting. You've been through so much, and it's normal to have thoughts that don't align with who you want to be. That doesn't make you a bad person, it just makes you someone who's trying to find their way through all the pain.”

This response snapped a chord inside the girl, and immediately, her tear-filled eyes turned wild and accusing. “Have you been listening to anything I’ve said? I’m hurting people. I had a fight with Zariyah, and it was completely my fault, I hurt her.”

“She wants someone who's gonna give her commitment, and stability. And that can never be me, because the feelings she wants me to have for her… they belong to someone else already,” She couldn't stop the words gushing out, her voice panicky, burdened with remorse. “They belong to someone I shouldn't even have those types of feelings for. I shouldn't but I do, and it's a fucking struggle not to act on them, and my best friend, he’s–”

And then she stopped. “Actually, no. I'm not gonna do this. I don't have to do this.”

“Riri, wait a sec–”

She had risen to her feet before Dr. Fring could complete her sentence, reaching for her backpack hurriedly. “I gotta get to class.”

The puzzled expression on the older woman's face was anticipated, but Riri decided it was far too late to amend that. She dashed past Dr. Fring, a little skeptical in her decision to flee, but instinct seemed mightier than hesitation right now. Riri stormed out of the therapy office, the heavy door crashing shut behind her with a deafening echo.

•••

Quick, unsteady steps guided Riri on her path back to campus, her mind still spinning from the near disaster in Dr. Fring’s office. Her pounding heartbeat had still been present, a chaotic rhythm that presented no signs of stopping despite the increasing distance she put between herself and her therapist. But beneath the frantic beat, there was an undeniable sense of relief—she’d escaped before saying too much, before she revealed the feelings that threatened to unravel everything.

It scared her how close she'd been to admitting it, to letting the shameful truth spill out about her feelings for you. Had she been a bit more fragile, Dr. Fring’s tactics surely would've shattered her cracking disposition. Riri prided herself on her restraint, ignoring the tension pooled in the depths of her empty stomach. Who needed food when she had crippling guilt to feast on?

Yet still, with every step closer to class, she sensed something else brewing beneath all that guilt, something she didn’t want to acknowledge, but couldn’t suppress: excitement. The anticipation of seeing you tugged at her, and even though she knew it was wrong—especially because she knew it was wrong—it was the only thing she could focus on.

Riri’s breath hitched, her thoughts racing competitively against her heart. She despised herself for it, for the way her stomach fluttered at the idea of seeing your face, of being near you, even if she didn’t deserve it. The panicked drumming in her chest from leaving Dr. Fring’s office hadn’t slowed, but she knew—without question—that the second she saw you, it would change, morph into a different thing entirely. Her heart would still race, but it wouldn’t be from fear or shame. It would be the quickened, excited beat she’d come to crave, the one she welcomed whenever you were around.

The difference terrified her, but it did not deter her, because she wanted it—wanted you—all the same.

When she entered the classroom, her eager eyes scanned the room in search of you, but the action proved fruitless, because you had not yet arrived. This didn't seem to throw her though, it only heightened her anticipation.

One of Riri’s favorite things to do was watch you, and arriving before you awarded her the opportunity to do so. It was wrong, she knew that, but in those quiet moments when you remained unaware of her scrutiny, the guilt slipped away. She allowed herself to admire you, to take in all your delicate details as though each of your features were secrets she was meant to discover. Her favorite place to watch you was in class. To her, this was the most intimate setting, where she could witness not only your beauty and grace, but also your intelligence.

Your genius existed as a force field surrounding you, an invisible, yet palpable aura that radiated in every direction. It wasn't visible, but everyone in proximity could sense its presence; it’s the thing that drew Riri to you on that very first day of class. Quiet, unforeseen, lulling—like the subtle hum of electricity in the air before a storm—she just wished she knew how dangerous it would be before getting caught in the eye of it.

But that ceased to matter now anyway, because here she was, climbing the steps to the last row in the class, all in preparation for you, her calm and her storm.

And your entrance was one that marveled. It was almost as though you knew she was awaiting you, eager to study you from a distance, desperate to see you tense under her revision. You strode in on a preexisting high, moving effortlessly through the other students, their sea parting for you with ease.

Your ruby locs haloed you like a setting sun, reflecting on your rich complexion with shades of crimson and gold. Riri's focus hadn't existed on anything apart from you, and off just that one glance, she felt ready to surrender to you, as completely as the sky surrenders to the night.

Her gaze wandered, tracing the outline of your figure as you walked to your seat. Your outfit was impossible to ignore—a cropped knit sweater that hugged your sculpted arms and shoulders just right, its patchwork of soft browns and creams forming a gentle harmony against the smooth expanse of your skin. The sweater left enough room to reveal a white top underneath, perfectly accentuating the curve of your chest, drawing Riri’s eyes like a magnet.

She nearly choked on her own spit when her gaze ventured lower, to the high-waisted cargos sitting snugly on your hips, clinging to you in all the right places. Her stomach tightened. She knew she shouldn't stare, but realistically, how was she expected not to? When your exposed waist moved so hypnotically as you got closer and closer to her.

Riri’s eyes were lingering longer than she typically permitted them to, and a heat wave crashed down on her as her sinful mind drifted to places they shouldn't.

How good would it feel to trace her digits along your waist? To run her hands over the fabric resting there, to sense the feeling of your skin beneath hers?

Quickly, Riri caught herself, trying to look away before anyone noticed the desperation flooding her pupils. But, it was too late, because you were standing next to her now, towering over her small, flushed physique like an Amazonian.

Your eyes met as you slowly sank in the seat two chairs over from hers, and she was certain you heard her heart screaming on its plummet into her stomach. You looked… amused, and the smug expression on your features only heightened her ever-growing embarrassment. She shifted all her focus to her iPad, pretending to focus on the nonexistent notes residing on the screen. But her mind was racing, her thoughts still buzzing with guilt and shame, knowing she’d been caught in the act of wanting something she wasn’t supposed to.

Fuck.

Fuck!

God, she was losing it, and it was getting increasingly worse—bad enough that you seemed to be catching on. Even with her eyes glued to her iPad, Riri knew you were looking at her; she sensed your glare on her person, and it made her skin tingle. And when she turned, she indeed did discover your eyes on her, stealing shy glances as you unpacked your bag.

Typically, this would be the moment she’d take hold of opportunity, allowing something sly and condescending to slither off her tongue, something she knew would get under your skin. But she couldn't. Her session with Dr. Fring brought up memories and feelings she liked to keep buried, and they were throwing her off her game.

“Hey.”

You muttered it softly, barely above a whisper, but Riri heard it. It shocked her honestly—the fact that you chose to speak to her after she turned your weekend into a shit-show. Maybe you’d accepted her apology, and were trying to move forward. But even the thought of that sounded too good to be true in her head.

Riri’s eyes traced a slow path up your exposed chest, lingering on your throat, skimming over your glossed lips, before finally letting them rest on yours. There was a question in your gaze, a curious look that seemed to wait for something—an answer, perhaps, or at least a reaction from Riri. But words remained absent. Her mouth hung agape as she watched you nervously, and before she could find the right thing to say, Dr. Lucas’ voice filled her ears, breaking through the tension; he was beginning his lecture.

“Imagine a world where one infected person could cause a global pandemic. How do we predict the spread? How can we stop it?” He started, and you were already scribbling away in your notes like the little teacher’s pet you were. Riri laughed to herself as she watched you, shaking her head at your eagerness.

Class unfolded as it typically did: Riri watched you intently from her seat, as you held all of your attention on Dr. Lucas and his boring lecture. His voice, flat and unenthused, blurred into the dull hum of the classroom, barely snagging her attention. Every now and then, Riri tuned in, just enough to catch fragments of his lecture—hearing something about the SIR model, and how differential equations could predict people's movements between each group in the model.

He jotted something down on the board, then turned back to face the class. “People start here, in the susceptible group, which is everyone who could potentially get the disease. Then, some of these people get infected and move into this group—the infected. Finally, they either recover or are removed, so they move here—to the recovered group.”

But the details slipped away as quickly as they came, because she found you to be far more captivating.

Riri sat back in her chair, her iPad screen blank, notebook open but untouched, her pen resting idly in her palm. You had her undivided attention, unknowingly of course, because unlike her, you were fully absorbed in Dr. Lucas’ lesson.

This was her opportunity to see your mind work up close—she studied you like you were the lesson being taught.

Your brow furrowed in concentration, eyes narrowed slightly as you absorbed each of the professor's utterances. And then there was the moment it all clicked for you. She witnessed understanding spread all across your face, your eyes lit up just slightly as you lifted your shiny lips into a confident smile.

Riri felt an overwhelming sense of pride rush her heart. She loved how excited you got when you fully grasped a concept, like you’d conquered something no one else could. Your grin reminded her of that day you helped her work on Hakeem's car in her garage. She hadn't expected your extensive knowledge on the inner workings of the vehicle; she was wrong about you, but she took the ego hit in stride.

She found it difficult to tear her eyes away from you in those moments, devoid of guilt and shame. These stolen moments were her secret, her only allowed alone time with you, even if the two of you weren't truly alone. But it felt like that to Riri, like this was your space, away from the Zariyah, and the Hakeem of it all. Just you and her.

It should feel wrong but it didn't.

Was it? Truly?

As she pondered her inner turmoil, Riri suddenly became aware of your big brown eyes on her. She knitted her eyebrows in confusion, then she noted the uncomfortable silence filling the lecture hall. She blinked, realizing too late that Dr. Lucas was now staring at her, his face expectant, similar to yours. The faint murmur of a question reached her ears, but she had no idea what he’d asked.

Her heart skipped as the realization set in—he’d caught her not paying attention, completely zoned out and absorbed in something, or rather someone, else entirely.

“Miss Williams?” He cocked his brow.

Riri cleared his throat, her cheeks scorching, “Uh, what?”

“I asked, if the infection rate suddenly doubles in the SIR model, what happens to the number of people moving from the susceptible group to the infected group?”

She couldn't answer.

“No pressure—just the fate of humanity at stake here.” He laughed smugly.

“Well uh, I think if–”

“If the infection rate doubles, the number of people moving from the susceptible group to the infected group also increases dramatically. The rate of infection will spike, meaning the disease spreads much faster, and we’ll see a steeper rise in cases over a shorter time.” You chimed in for her, not missing a beat.

Riri rolled her eyes, unaware of what had triggered her sudden mood shift. All she knew was that irritation had crept in, and now she was annoyed.

But your answer did take the focus off her, so she was grateful for that at least, and she decided to finally tune in to the exchange between you and Dr. Lucas.

“That's correct. And what effect would that have on the overall shape of the epidemic curve?”

“It would make the curve much steeper, with an earlier peak and more cases at once, which could overwhelm healthcare systems.” You grinned.

“Excellent. Even though you aren't Miss Williams.” He turned back to Riri, “I hope you wrote that down. But if not, I’m sure you'll get a chance to, seeing as I’ve decided to make you two partners on your upcoming project.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Riri huffed.

“You’re joking!” You exclaimed.

He shook his head, “Fraid not. I'm as serious as a spreading infectious disease.” He chuckled at his own joke. “The rest of you can find your respective partners on the list I have posted in the front, along with your list of topics.”

And just like that, class ended. But as students shuffled to leave, your gaze locked onto Riri’s, piercing straight into her soul—though not in the way she’d imagined countless times before.

•••

No matter what Riri did, it seemed she could never put real distance between the pair of you. Not that she’d really tried—if she was being honest, she wasn’t even sure she ever had. You were always just there, effortlessly present in her life, and though she’d never admit it out loud, she secretly loved that.

And now, it seemed even Dr. Lucas wanted you two to share space. Was the universe playing some sort of sick prank on her? How was she supposed to stay away from you, if even school projects were determined to keep you two close? And why was she so irritated by this notion?

This was all she could think about as she hurried behind your long, determined strides.

“Damn, slow yo ass down.” She cried, growing more impatient by the second. She must've looked so desperate to the other students passing by.

“Gotta get to work, sorry.”

You kept walking, and each of your steps ignited a flare in Riri’s chest, the one that always flickered to life whenever she was made to watch you walk away from her.

She finally caught up to you, stopping you dead in your tracks, and she could tell by the jarred expression in your eyes, that you had not expected it. “So we not gon talk about the project?”

“It's not due til next week, we have plenty of time to talk about it, but I really gotta get to work.”

“Benny gon be alright until you get there. But this…” She gestured between the two of you, holding your stare as she spoke. “This is more important.”

The ambiguity of her words hung heavily in the air, their underlying, double meaning stifling her. And Riri could tell you felt it just as she did. She heard the hitch in your breath when you inhaled, and not once did you blink as you looked down at her, not once did you rip your eyes from her soft, yearning ones.

“The project… you mean?” Your voice rippled through the quiet surrounding you two, sounding accusatory.

Riri laughed dryly, “W-What else would I mean?”

“Can we talk about this later?” You began walking again, and of course, Riri was on your heels.

“You know you didn't have to answer that question for me in class. I would’ve figured it out.”

She was strolling behind you, taking the opportunity to glance at your ass with a satisfied smirk.

“Yeah, so why didn't you?”

“I was uh… distracted.”

“Right...” You whipped around to face her. “So look I gotta go. I get off at eight. If you wanna talk about the project after that, you know where I live. That work for you?”

She heard you speaking to her, but the incessant buzzing in her pocket nabbed her attention. Riri pulled her phone out, and her heart stopped when she saw Hakeem's face lighting up her screen, the familiar nickname BestieWestie hovering above it like a taunt.

The sight knocked the wind out of her.

Guilt swallowed her whole almost immediately, making it hard to breathe. She was gonna be sick. Her thunderous heart echoed in her eardrums, her stomach twisted violently as she stood there motionless, watching the phone ring and ring and ring until she couldn't take it anymore. It was as though she could feel the weight of her betrayal pressing down on her, hear her monster's mocking laughter in her head, and without thinking, her thumb swiped across the screen, declining the call.

She swallowed hard, forcing down the bile that had risen in her throat, but the guilt still lingered.

“Riri?”

Slowly, her eyes rose to find you, trying to compose herself before responding. “Uh, yeah. Yeah that works.”

“Aight. See you then I guess.”

There you went again, strutting out of her life it felt like, abandoning her as she drowned in an ocean of guilt. It was times like these where her mind drifted to a singular person—the only person who could help her escape when her world crumbled.

Riri’s phone buzzed again, but this time only once.

“Fucking oracle.” She muttered, shaking her head at the text message she just received.

Can I come over? Miss you… and those fingers.

•••

“How that dick feel deep in them guts, Z?” It was a rhetorical question—Zariyah couldn’t respond, not with the way Riri had her positioned. Her tattooed arms were pinned behind her back, face embedded in Riri’s pillow, the soft material muffling her pitiful cries.

But Riri enjoyed hearing her girl struggle as her strap tunneled into her soaking cunt from behind, so she questioned her again. “You ain't hear me?”

Zariyah murmured something incoherent, making the shorter girl chuckle. She was so over the guilt she'd been feeling. No longer would outside forces dictate her days, her nights. Control would be hers again, she’d decided, and she aimed to reclaim it through the babbling girl buried in her mattress.

Being with Zariyah was easier. It always was. Fucking her gave Riri what she needed—a distraction, a way to redirect everything she felt for you into something less…complicated. Riri could pretend, just for a little while, that the feelings she couldn’t express to you were meant for someone else.

And right now, that was exactly what she desired—to forget, to not feel so conflicted, and to push everything down just long enough to make Zariyah come.

The tip of her strap teased that special spot Zariyah so impatiently needed her to graze, but Riri was devious, pulling out just before the collision, taunting her. And then, she was thrusting with abandon, fucking into her girl’s dribbling pussy ferociously. The motion sent shock waves through Riy’s skin, and Riri grinned proudly as she marveled at the ripples she created.

“F-fuck…” The only audible word Zariyah had managed to splutter since they’d started.

Her thrusts hadn't slowed amidst Zariyah's desperate little whimpers. She found them to be encouraging, using each whine as motivation to ravage her sopping hole over and over again. “How that shit feel, Z? You still ain't answer me.”

“S’good m-mami… f-fucking me s’good.” The larger girl was a mess, a pathetic one at that—just how Riri liked her.

Her bed creaked intandem with her frantic hips, rocking back and forth slowly beneath the both of them. But there wasn't a sound that reverberated louder than her girl’s wetness. She could hear it, Zariyah's cunt crying for her, leaking more and more the harder she fucked into her.

Riri reached forward with her free hand, the other still pinning Riy’s wrist to her perspiring back, and she grabbed a fist full of Zariyah's flaming curls, yanking her neck backwards. “You hear that shit? You hear how wet that pussy get for me?”

Zariyah didn't answer, far too delirious from the feeling of having her walls stretched. All she could manage was a long drawn out moan, but that wasn't enough for the prowling scientist working over her heated depths. Riri wanted words, no matter how shattered or fragile they might tumble from Riy’s lips, she needed to hear her speak.

She tugged harder on her girl’s hair, tightened her grip on her wrists, using both as leverage to plow into the now weeping girl below her. “Answer me when I fucking speak to you Zariyah.”

Her full name was enough to get Riy’s attention, and she parted her lips, “So wet for you b-baby. A-All f-for you!” She cried, her body shaking, hole clenching.

“Yeah? This for me?” Riri let go of her hair and Zariyah’s head jerked forward.

“Y-Yes mami! All this s-shit for you! God, fuck me!”

Riri could feel her clit jump in her briefs, her own pussy begging for attention as she drilled Zariyah. “Fuck Z, youn know how bad I needed this. After the day I had, shit.”

“Use me mami, take all that shit out on me, ooh fuck!”

“Take that dick baby, just like that. Sooo fucking good.”

As she watched Riy’s greedy hole consume her strap, Riri couldn't help but zone out to the echoing sound of skin slapping against skin. And as she expected, her mind wandered—to you. She imagined it was you underneath her, your hole expanding around the length of her, swallowing her inch by fucking inch, sounding utterly blissed out from the pleasure she orchestrated inside you.

She wanted you to make those unholy sounds for her, scream her name again and again, as she brought you to your edge. You’d weep for her, real, raw tears as she tended to your every need. And she’d dry your eyes, just before dropping to her knees to devour you, filling her system with your lust.

But alas, this had only been a fantasy, an immoral one, and Zariyah’s desperate groans recentered Riri in actuality.

“Fuck me mami, fuck me harder! I'm finna come!”

She hadn't stopped fucking Zariyah all the while, and it seemed her rapid strokes were on the verge of making Zariyah come all over the dildo moving in and out of her center.

“You wanna come, Z?” She let go of Riy’s hands to grip her hips as she thrusted into her.

“Yes m-mami, pleaseeee!” Riy reached up, grabbing hold of the headboard, deepening her arch.

This was the part that excited Riri the most, the moments right before her girl reached her peak; she reveled in the way she pleaded for release. “Show me how bad you want it, baby. Fuck yourself on this dick baby.”

She let Riy go, expecting her to do as instructed, and she smirked a little when her girl obeyed. She took control, rocking herself up and down the span of Riri’s girth, babbling all the while. And Riri was eating it all up, the visual of Zariyah’s ass bouncing with each glide, the loud squishing coming from her soaked center—a fucking symphony—sweet and sultry as Zariyah sang each syllable.

“Ri, I'm coming!”

“All over this dick? You gon make a mess for me, Z?”

“All over that fucking dick mami!” She grunted.

Riri had taken hold of her girl’s flesh again, ramming into her as she wailed out. “Give it to me baby!”

“Right there mami, right fucking there! You finna make me come!”

God, it was fucking glorious, this unrelenting rush of control. It bred regularity back into Riri, it gave her hope again, that things were hers to seize hold of, whether it be Riy, her sleep, or even–

Zariyah’s guttural cry cut her thoughts short, opening the door for a self-satisfied smirk to overtake her face as she watched her girl collapse gracefully, falling deeper into the sheets with an exasperated whine. Riri chuckled as she slowly slipped from inside Zariyah's depths, her eyes entranced by the thick cum oozing out as well. “You did so fucking good, Z baby.”

“I know.” Riy quipped back.

Riri leaned in slowly, her lips brushing soft, lingering kisses along the inked image of Excalibur that adorned her girl’s spine. “You can't just say thank you?”

Zariyah rolled over on her back just as Riri had settled into the covers beside her. “I’m s’posed to thank you for fucking me?”

“And if I said yeah?”

“You the one that need to be saying thank you. Cause after the way you was acting last weekend, you lucky you still have access to this pussy at all.”

Riri chuckled, reaching under her bed for her rolling tray. “Yeah, aight.”

“You think I’m playing with you?” Zariyah’s voice was shrill.

Riri hadn't looked over at her girl as she answered, her thoughts trained on the blunt she was in the process of rolling. “No, I don't.”

“Good. Cause I meant everything I said Riri. I swear to God if you ever embarrass me like that again–”

Riri laughed again, “Yeah okay, do you wanna hit this or not?”

“Don't fucking cut me off,” Zariyah warned. “Like I was saying, before your rude ass interrupted me, if you ever embarrass me like that again, this is done, for good. Cause I don't play that, and I’m dead fucking–”

She paused before gripping Riri’s jaw with an almost bruising force, wrenching her head around until their eyes locked. “I’m dead fucking serious Riri. Act like you got some fucking sense when it comes to me and you.”

The sincerity weighing on Zariyah’s words wasn't up for debate, and Riri didn't see herself capable of fully accepting the warning tossed her way. Because if she did, it would mean opening the door to the possibility of losing Zariyah, and she couldn't stomach that idea. Not now, not when Zariyah remained the only constant amongst her chaos. So she deflected, “You putting your hands on me like you tryna start round four.”

“You so damn irritating.”

“I don't doubt it.” Riri lifted the blunt to her lips, eyes drifting shut as she leaned back, pressing her cloud of curls into the headboard with languid ease. The soft sound of the lighter clicked, and she sensed Zariyah’s steady hands bringing the flame closer, the heat brushing her skin just before the blunt sparked.

As the smoke cleared, Riri laid naked in her bed with a zoned out Zariyah sprawled across her lap. Her fingers traced the outline of the sword etched into her girl's flesh, admiring the precision of the dagger’s design, and the artist’s careful attention to every detail. “This tattoo is my favorite.”

Zariyah giggled, “Yeah?”

“Mhmm. You know why?”

“Why?”

Riri cleared her throat, “Because it kind of embody’s you.” She could tell from the way Riy scrunched her nose at her that she didn't quite understand the point she was attempting to make, so she continued, “To me, you hold the same authority as the blade. You demand respect and you're not to be ignored—Excalibur is like that—like you.”

“You always get to talking all kinds of shit when you're high Ri.” She laughed.

And Riri joined her, “Yeah, but you love it though.”

“I love making you come way more. You gon let me?”

Riri cocked her brow, “Who said I ain’t come?”

“Girl, I know what the fuck you look like when you come, what you sound like, and it didn't happen once tonight.”

The shorter girl grinned. She loved moments like these, when her mind focused solely on her and her fiery-headed lover. “Oh so you be watching me?”

“If I'm making you feel good, best believe I'm getting caught up in every single detail. I love seeing you react to my touch. So let me do that shit Ri!” Zariyah whined.

“Next time.”

Riy groaned, “So what you got going on for the rest of the night then? Since you turning down head from me.”

“Not much. Homework.”

Zariyah poked her stomach, “Want me to stay and help? I know a thing or two about engineering.”

“Nah, it's uh, a project actually. Gonna go work on it with my partner when she gets off work.”

“Can't believe you're ditching me for some nerd from class. Is she cute at least?” Zariyah asked, sitting up to grab her phone off the charger.

Riy was oblivious to the mental minefield she'd just thrusted the smaller girl into; she hadn't even looked up from her phone after asking her, so why was Riri beginning to panic? It was an innocent enough question—just a playful, offhand remark—but there lived no innocence beneath the lie Riri was gearing up to tell.

Riri forced an easy smirk, glancing over at the tattooed girl lying beside her in bed, “Ion be looking at nobody but you, baby.”

“Bullshit!” Zariyah cried, causing them both to erupt in laughter.

“But nah, it's uh, my partner is Keem’s girl. We just got paired up today so Ima go over there in a little bit.” Riri finally admitted, but she still couldn't get the pit out of her stomach, still unsure why it was even there to begin with.

Beside her, Riri could sense Zariyah's energy shift at your mention; she could sense the unspoken question hanging in the air, but Riri wasn't sure she'd have an answer to give, and if she did, it'd be nothing more than another half truth.

Riy turned, eyeing the calculating scientist with weariness in her pupils. “What do you think of her? Hakeem's girlfriend I mean.”

“I don't.” She lied.

“So you don't have any opinion on your best friend’s girl? You, Riri Williams? Nah, I’m calling bullshit again.” Zariyah narrowed her eyes slightly, but Riri knew she could still see right through her.

She straightened her back, and Riy did the same, not letting up. “Why do you care so much?”

“Don't care at all actually, but I spoke to her at the party, and she seemed a little…”

Riri raised her brow curiously, “A little what?”

“I don't know, immature, I guess? She just doesn't seem too sure of herself. Which isn't a bad thing, it's just what I’ve observed.”

This assessment of you felt like a personal offense. Immature? Unsure of yourself? Riri’s eyebrows furrowed as she attempted to keep her expression neutral, but Zariyah's words grated at her. Aside from Riy herself, you were probably the most self-assured person she'd ever met. Sure, you had some trouble seeing yourself that way, but Riri could tell that was because of someone else's doing. Still, there was an unmistakable strength to you, one that came with ease and intelligence, and the idea that anyone would label you as immature, was so misguided.

“Just because she doesn't wear her confidence like a fucking accessory don't mean she's unsure of herself.”

Zariyah huffed a dry laugh beside her, “And here I was believing that you don't think about her.”

“I don't,” Riri sighed, “I just know her well enough to know that you're wrong about her.”

“Hmm. Well alright.” Riy conceded.

Riri was grateful she’d managed to dead the conversation there; she didn’t have the energy to continue if Riy decided to press it further. Yet, there was something in Riy’s tone—an edge, a subtle hesitation—that made it clear she wasn’t entirely done with the topic.

“Where you going?”

Zariyah had risen out of bed while Riri was deep in thought, and she was half dressed now as she scoured the room for her underwear. “I’m not finna be waiting around for you while you off doing science experiments or whatever the fuck. I got people that wanna see me, so that's where I’m going.”

“And who the fuck are these people that wanna see you?”

Zariyah slipped her panties back on, and then her dress before leering over at Riri seductively, “I’m finna make somebody daughter come tonight. If it ain't you then it's on to the next, lil mamas.”

“Damn, it's like that Z?” Riri tutted. “Here I was thinking you was faithful.” She added jokingly.

Riy shook her head, “Faithfulness is for committed folks, and you’ve made it crystal clear that ain't something I’m getting from you.”

She could hear the slight hurt that tinged her girl’s words, and immediately, the guilt she'd been fleeing flooded back. “Z, you know I’m tryna get there.”

“But them demons on your ass right? They fighting back?” She laughed a little, making Riri roll her eyes.

Riri flinched at the comment; it was like salt in an open wound. “You don't gotta do all that bruh.”

“All what? Tell you the truth? Look, it's cool. I knew what I was getting into with you, I ain’t tripping bout it. When you get there, you get there,” She reassured the smaller girl peering over at her with saddened eyes, “But let's hope for your sake, I'm gracious enough to still be here too.”

“I'm not some commitment-phobe you know. I just don't wanna bring all my shit into your life.”

“Ri, it's good. Like I said, fight your demons lil mamas. I like what we have, I wouldn't keep coming back if I didn't.”

“Okay…” Riri forced a smile. “But I am your favorite though right? Outta all them other bitches? They fuck you like me?”

“You are too much.” Riy inched toward the bed, hand outstretching to cup Riri’s chin as she tugged her in for a peck, a gentle one that contrasted the others they’d shared earlier in the night. “But yes you are my most favorite, Ri baby. Done got my feelings involved messing with your lil ass.”

Riri giggled, “All I’m hearing is I'm the favorite.”

Riy rolled her eyes, “Walk me out?”

She nodded, pulling on a hoodie as they both moved towards the door. Riri pulled Zariyah in for one final kiss, allowing the tenderness to stretch out, savoring the closeness for a little while longer. When their lips parted, Riri lingered in the moment, heart racing as she met Zariyah's gaze. She grinned, dazzled by the twinkle existing in her girl's deep eyes. “Don't allow yourself to be wielded by the unworthy, Zariyah. I mean it.”

“Okay, Ri,” Riy smiled shyly, “I’ll see you later.”

Riri stood in the doorway, grinning to herself as she watched Zariyah disappear down the hall, the warmth of their night still ever-present in her chest. But as soon as the door clicked shut, the crushing weight returned.

Gone were her fleeting moments of comfort, and now she was alone again, alone with her thoughts and the guilt that had been creeping at the edges all night. She leaned back against the door, the grin fading as she sighed, already feeling the pull of everything she was trying to avoid.

In less than an hour, she’d be seeing you.

Riri sighed again, this time deeper, more defeated, knowing she couldn’t outrun her demons forever.

•••

Riri sat in the dark parking lot, engine off, but her mind revving uncontrollably. The clock on her dashboard glowed 9:37 PM. You’d be arriving home soon—if her calculations were correct.

She had replayed it in her head a dozen times since you mentioned you’d be off at 8:00. Simple math, really—enough time to wrap up, walk to your bus stop, and make it home by 9:43. Still, she was beginning to doubt her accuracy the longer she was made to sit silently and alone in her car.

Her eyes dropped to her outfit for what felt like the millionth time, fingers nervously tugging at the collar of her black baby tee. She’d worn this shirt countless times before, paired with her favorite gray shorts—normally her go-to for comfort. But tonight, the fabric stuck to her skin in a way that made her feel exposed and uncomfortable. Everything felt too tight, too revealing, and for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, she regretted every choice she’d made in getting dressed.

The stunning moonlight reflected on Riri’s golden “R” pendant as she played with it, catching the last of the fading daylight, but now, even that felt like it had been drawing too much attention. She carried her hands from her neck to her steering wheel, gripping tightly to the vehicle as a means to steady herself, but the act had no use.

Where the hell were you?

Maybe it would have been smart to let Zariyah eat her out when she offered, perhaps a bone rattling orgasm would have prevented her impatience, or at the very least dampen it. Riri’s eyes darted to the rearview mirror, then back to her phone, then to the empty sidewalk outside her car. She could still leave, you could've very well forgotten she was to come over.

You were probably with your boyfriend.

And if she decided to go now, you'd have never known she was here. It would save her the embarrassment she was feeling.

9:44 PM.

The numbers on the dashboard ridiculed her, mocked her akin to how her monster would, if he were present. But just as Riri had geared up to start her car, she heard the city bus screech to a halt behind her, and the deep, guttural exhale of the brakes followed shortly after. She gazed breathlessly at her side mirror, watching as you emerged through the automatic doors.

9:45 PM.

She'd been off by two minutes.

You looked exhausted, the glow of the street lights casting shadows over your worn out features. Yet, there was still something inherently you about your movements—effortless in your fatigue. And Riri found her attraction to you growing, gaining strength as she watched you at your most mundane.

She eyed you as you took your long, signature strides up the sidewalk towards your building, but they were tempered tonight, more deliberate. You disappeared inside soon after, and Riri had to physically restrain her body with her seatbelt to prevent herself from following immediately after you. She knew you needed time to settle in before she bombarded your space, and she wanted you to have that.

After exactly twenty-three minutes of impatiently tapping her feet against the car floor, Riri finally sighed, muttering, a quiet “Fuck it,” as she threw open the door with aggressive gusto.

She found herself rehearsing her opening line on her way up the elevator. Why had it felt like this was your first time meeting? Why was she so nervous?

It could be because she couldn't classify her reasons for coming over as innocent ones. Showing up on a Friday night, to work on a project due in two weeks with not so much as a pen and paper said a lot about her intentions; Riri was just banking on you being too tired to ask any questions.

The elevator dinged, and Riri’s stomach dropped in sync with the slight dip the elevator made before the doors parted, and she stepped out, on the hunt for your door. She could feel the weight of her hesitation in every step, the cool hallway air doing nothing to soothe the nervous energy buzzing beneath her skin. Once in front of your door, Riri’s hand hovered just inches from knocking, frozen in indecision.

She knew the guise for being here was thin—a project, she told herself, but the empty space at her side where her backpack should’ve been conveyed a different story. She hadn’t come to work. Not really.

The thick door loomed over her short build, daring her to knock. She wondered if you'd fallen asleep, and maybe if she turned around, it'd be something you both could forget. But she called bullshit on herself, because Riri knew the basis of her hesitancy. The second she touched the door, a current of guilt would pull her under, and she’d struggle to stay afloat.

Still, something stronger—something living deeper in her gut—urged her forward. And before she could stop herself, her knuckles rapped softly against the door. Too soft, she thought. For a second, she almost hoped you wouldn’t hear it.

But, a few beats later, the door swung open… and there you stood. You were dressed in a delicate loungewear set—white with lace trim—and your hair was pulled into a loose bun that left a few tendrils framing your face. She’d never expected to see you dressed in something so… intimate, with so much exposed skin.

Thighs, and hips, and ass; this was too much; Riri was too gay for this. God, she knew you were gorgeous, but seeing you like this, at home and dressed down, made it a lot more impossible to ignore.

You blinked at her, surprised, and Riri realized she might have caught you off guard.

“Riri?” Your voice was low, the greeting more of a question than a statement.

Riri was regretting this already. Was this how you felt whenever she scolded you for showing up at her door unannounced?

She forced a smile before clearing her throat, trying to do away with that everlasting tension, “Hey… uh, the project, remember?”

You blinked the confusion away, “Yeah, um, yeah come in.”

Riri followed behind you when you turned, compelling her eyes not to venture lower, and she stepped inside.

When the door clicked shut behind her, the reality of where she was settled in at once. Your apartment was different from how she remembered it. She'd been inside maybe twice before, briefly, when she was with Hakeem, but this time was different.

She was in your space, experiencing it through different lenses.

The place felt like you. Soft floral patterns scattered across the pillows and curtains, the warm amber hues of autumn blending into every corner. Riri’s eyes flickered over the small details, the way the light from the lamps bathed the room in a soft glow, the rich rust-colored throw draped over the back of the couch. The air smelled faintly of jasmine, and everything was extremely clean, almost compulsively.

She knew you had a roommate, but it was clear that this apartment—at least from the way it looked—belonged to you alone.

“I like your place.” Riri murmured, feeling the words slip out before she could bite them back. She hadn't even been looking at you when she admitted it, too busy absorbing everything.

“Thanks,” You nodded, moving towards the kitchen table, where Riri noted your backpack. “So, I had a chance to look over the list of topics from class,”

You were walking back over to the shorter girl now, laptop in hand, “I think these two could be interesting. They're just the ones that stuck out to me, but if you're thinking something different…”

Why were you being so formal with her?

Riri glanced at the screen she was presented with, reading the highlighted topics aloud, “Environmental Modeling and Mechanical Vibrations…”

“What do you think?”

She gave the screen another once over before sighing, “I mean, I guess?”

“You have something else in mind?”

Riri chuckled softly, her eyes sweeping over you with a teasing smirk. “Isn't the whole point of us being partners to, you know, make decisions about the project together?”

“Do you have something else in mind, Riri?” The words were clipped, your tone laced with irritation, as though you’d been dealing with this back-and-forth for too long.

She chuckled awkwardly, “To be honest, I ain't really look at them for real, I was–”

Your jaw tightened, the frustration in your eyes cutting her off mid-sentence,“Then why the hell are you here?”

Riri blinked; she hadn't expected you to snap at her like that. “I was just thinking we could look at them together and choose one… damn.” Her voice trailed off, a twinge of defensiveness creeping in, “Like the fuck you getting all snappy for?”

“I don't know Riri, maybe because I just got off work and I'm fucking tired,” You argued back. She could hear the exhaustion in your voice, “And I’m really not in the mood to deal with your shit right now.”

Riri flinched at the sharpness of your tone, the sting of it seeping in deeper than she wanted to admit.

After she apologized, after she confessed to wanting to earn your forgiveness, she thought maybe things would get easier. But it felt like the wall between you two was still there, and what hurt Riri most was knowing she was the one who had built it in the first place. She didn't know how to tear it down, and now, it seemed like you hadn't wanted it to crumble at all.

Couldn’t you at least put it aside for the sake of the project? For the grade?

“You acting like you ain't told me to come over…”

“Yeah, after you basically hounded me about starting the project today.” Your arms were crossed, shoulders tensed as you glared back at Riri.

Riri could feel her own irritation brewing in her bosom, as she stood before you, skin hot and prickly. Her heart hammered away at her chest, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the argument or from the look in your eyes—a look that seemed to hold more than just anger.

There was restraint in the way you looked at her, like you were forcing yourself to stay guarded even if the intensity in your pupils betrayed you.

The silence grew heavier, both of you standing there, unrelenting. Riri’s breathing grew shallow, her frustration mingling with something else—a thrill she wasn't sure she should acknowledge.

“If you want me to leave, Ima need you to say it.” She whispered, noting the way your eyes melted almost instantly, and she grinned to herself.

You shook your head, grabbing your laptop from her, and moving to the couch. “You're already here, might as well agree on a topic.”

Riri sank down next to you, scooting closer than necessary so she could see the screen, but the moment your arms brushed, any hope of focus vanished. The faint warmth of your skin on hers made her body buzz, her senses completely tuned to the soft point of contact.

You were talking, your voice drifting over her like a heatwave, but she couldn't focus on a single thing besides the dizzying sensation settling in her bones.

“...Epidemiology modeling…” You trailed off, explaining something, but it went over her head. “Similar to… model… class.”

“Riri?” Your voice startled her out of her daze.

Riri shook her head, her eyes discovering your parted lips, “Huh?”

You rolled your eyes, “Did you bring your notes?”

She forced a casual shrug, scrambling for an excuse, “Oh. Uh, no.”

“Did you bring anything?” You pressed, your tone cutting through the fog in her head.

“Yeah... no sorry... I was already here when I realized I forgot my backpack.” She lied. Truth was, she hadn’t thought about her notes, or the project, or anything besides the fact that she’d be here, with you, alone.

You sighed, indicating your frustration hadn't gone away. “It's fine, I guess I can just email you.”

“Okay.” She mumbled softer than intended, guiding her eyes back to the screen, though she still wasn't paying attention; Riri’s mind was muddled by her desperate desire for your arms to brush again.

“So, did any of the other topics sound interesting to you? I still think environmental modeling is the best choice. We could like, model the population growth of an endangered species or something.”

Riri wasn't equipped with an answer, but she knew you were expecting one, so she decided the safest choice was to just agree with you. “I uh, actually think I agree with you, it made more sense after you explained it.”

“M’kay. Well, we don't have to do the research right away. I’ll send you my notes, and maybe we could uh, get together on Sunday to–”

In front of you, your phone started ringing on the coffee table, the vibrating sound cutting your sentence short.

Slowly, your eyes panned to the screen, and Riri allowed hers to follow.

Mom.

The phone kept buzzing, but you hadn't moved to answer it, which piqued Riri’s curiosity. You were frozen, lost in a haze as you watched the device ring, and ring, and ring, until it finally stopped.

Riri watched the subtle shift in your expression as you snapped back into conversation, brushing off the strange silence like it hadn’t happened at all. “We could meet up on Sunday. I know this coffee shop that's really qu–”

Your phone was ringing again, same caller—your mother. You went silent for the second time, your expression draining of anything recognizable as you focused on the lit up screen.

“You gonna get that?”

Then it rang a third time, and you reached forward, completely powering the device off before responding. “Uh, no.”

You stood abruptly, gunning for the kitchen with sudden determination. “You want some fries? Got em from work.”

Riri couldn't help herself, her eyes immediately found your ass. She shook her head, overwhelmed by the way your cheeks spilled out the bottom of your shorts, just enough for her to witness.

“Goddamn…”

You whipped around, “What was that?”

“I said yeah, I’ll take some fries.” She chirped.

The universe was testing her, and Jesus fuck, she was failing so miserably. But, at least she would get to enjoy her favorite food ahead of her demise.

She watched as you sauntered back over to the couch holding a Freeda’s take away container. “They're still kinda warm. I made them fresh before I left work.”

Riri hadn't wanted to look greedy when she reached for the fries, but it was kind of hard not to. She hadn't eaten since earlier with Zariyah, so when that familiar aroma of potatoes and grease hit her nose, she was practically salivating.

“Thank you,” She muttered with a stuffed mouth, letting out a satisfied moan as the flavor of seasoned salt coated her taste buds. “These fries be too fucking good.”

You laughed beside her, a real, genuine giggle as you undoubtedly watched her in amusement, “I’m glad you like them, but please slow down before you choke.”

Riri popped another fry in her mouth, savoring the taste as she lifted her face out of the plate to meet your eyeline. You weren't eating, just watching, a smile playing on your lips. She paused, heart fluttering unexpectedly.

Had you brought these just for her? This would challenge her previous conclusion, that you had forgotten she was coming. The thought warmed Riri, and she decided not to question it; she liked the idea that you were thinking of her, just as she thought of you.

“Can I ask you a question?” Riri began.

“You mean a follow up question to the one you just asked me? Because can I ask you a question, is a question.”

Riri rolled her eyes, “You know what I mean.”

“Do I, though? Because if I’m being honest Riri, I literally never know what you mean.”

Riri deadpanned, “Why didn't you answer the phone when your mom called?”

She wanted to tread lightly, because it seemed these were murky waters between you and your mother, but she was still curious as to why the calls upset you.

You swallowed hard, clearing your throat as you smoothed your hands down your bare thighs. “Don't think you're equipped to handle my mommy issues. How bout you just eat your fries.”

Riri could detect deflection like a bloodhound. She knew why she was so keen on it, and she assumed your reasoning would mirror hers, but she couldn't do away with the feeling of wanting to know; to help; to soothe.

“I might be more equipped than you think. I’ll have you know, I have my very own therapist.” Riri joked, wanting to lighten your mood.

“You're in therapy?” You questioned, sounding genuinely astonished.

Riri scoffed playfully, “Fuck you sound so surprised for? A nigga can't wanna better their mental health?”

You laughed again, the sound intoxicating as it escaped you. “No offense, but have you met yourself? You and the premise of bettering your mental health do not go…”

“You know what, I won’t take offense to that,” Riri said, crossing her arms with a smirk. “Because I know all this”—she waved a hand up and down in your direction—“is just you trying to avoid the question.”

The room had gone quiet, lit only by the dim, warm glow of a single lamp. “Why do you wanna know anyway, not like you actually care.” Your words punctured the silence, sharp, yet subdued, as though you’d resigned yourself to the idea that you didn't matter to her.

And she hated herself more than ever now, hated that she had made you feel this way, made you doubt your worth to her, made you think your feelings were unimportant. Nothing could mend that hurt; it was too late. But in the gentle quiet of this moment, she could try to show you something real, something she hadn’t known how to say before.

“Maybe I do care,” She huffed, her somber stare boring into your abyssal eyes. “Maybe I can relate.”

A question flickered in your eyes, swirling through the depths of your deep browns, softening them with curiosity. “And what is it that you think you can relate to?”

“My relationship with my mom isn't the best right now. I’ve done my fair share of dodging calls and ignoring texts.” Riri admitted.

“What's your mother like?” You questioned.

Riri felt her emotions tangle in her throat, choking her as she attempted to answer. “If I’m being honest, she was kind of the best, still is in some ways. Growing up, her and my dad were overly involved in my academics, but not in a way that made me feel pressured. It wasn't easy being labeled a super-genius at the age of five,” She laughed. “I think they thought I’d turn into a dangerous, detached child if they didn't pay enough attention to me, and make me feel normal or something.”

You watched her attentively, without interruption.

“I’m grateful for that, grateful for them as a team… But after my dad died, things sort of changed. Mom changed.”

“How?”

Riri exhaled, swallowing the lump in her throat, “She became extremely overprotective, worried way more. And I understood why, more so now that I'm older, but I think she got so caught up in trying to navigate life without dad, that she didn't see that I was changing too. I blamed myself for his death. I knew my mom didn't, but she wasn't as attentive as she used to be, she couldn't… see me, anymore.”

She had to stop talking before the tears came.

She glanced over at you, eyes glassy with barely contained emotion, searching your features for a glimmer of understanding, anything bereft of judgment.

She hoped you'd relate, not because she wanted you to know her pain, but because she needed to believe that exposing the cracks she worked so hard to hide, hadn’t been done in vain.

You offered her an empathetic smile, your eyes filled to the brim with an emotion Riri knew better than most. You too had been kissed by death's lips—you knew loss as deeply as she did.

“My dad died when I was twelve,” You began, voice a bit unsteady, “He was my best friend. He'd always pick me and my sister up early from school on Fridays, take us to get burgers and milkshakes. His time with his girls—that's what he called it.” You smiled briefly, like the memory itself was nostalgic. “And to this day, I don’t think my mom even knows."

Riri watched relief prance across your face, a lightness that told her you hadn’t let yourself talk about this in a long time, and she couldn't help but smile.

But your expression dimmed as fast as it brightened, your voice dropping in octaves. “I don’t have any memories of my parents as a team like you do,” You continued, glancing down. “ But I know I felt my mom’s love most when my dad was still around. She'd say it—I love you—but only when she thought we were worthy of hearing it. Sometimes I wonder if she ever really loved any of us… But I don’t think I actually wanna know the answer to that.”

“I’m sorry.” Riri whispered, voice jagged, her heart breaking for you.

You didn’t look at her, your eyes fixed somewhere beyond the room, palms pressed firmly to your knees like you were grounding yourself in place. “Not your fault. I don’t even know why I just told you all that.”

But Riri knew. She knew what it felt like to carry heavy feelings, what it felt like to be crushed by the weight of them. Eventually you lose control; you break.

“I know why I did.” Riri sliced through the thick silence with her confession, exhaling languidly as your eyes moved to find hers. “Because… it needed to be said, I needed to say it out loud to someone.”

You blinked at her, pupils blown wide, “Okay. But why me?”

There it was—that rush of doubt, the uncertainty Zariyah mentioned earlier. You questioned yourself because your mother planted those seeds of insecurity, and there was no doubt her own behavior added to it as well. But she could rectify all that… if you let her.

“You make me do things I don't normally do,” She said, voice rough with frustration. “Feel things I shouldn't. And when you look at me like that…”

You gasped, your breath stuck in your throat. “Like what?”

“Like that… With those fucking eyes…” Riri swallowed hard, her irises darkening with lust and intensity.

“These are just… my eyes.” You whispered, barely able to speak.

But Riri wasn’t listening anymore; her brown globes were tracing the expanse of your exposed skin, every inch of you on display, and she didn’t bother to hide it.

She drank you in, taking in every curve, every line, every stretch mark like a map she wanted to follow. Your nipples were erect beneath your top, and she studied those too.

Her lip was caught between her teeth, her restraint slipping with each passing second as the tension between you both thickened.

“I know…” She pressed her forehead to yours, and you didn’t pull away. Her eyes fluttered shut as she breathed you in, savoring the closeness, each shared breath laced with a tension neither of you dared to break.

Your perfume was faint, almost washed away by the day, but Riri could still smell it. That soft aroma of vanilla and saffron she'd become addicted to, and now she was finally getting her fix. “But the more you look at me, the harder it is for me to look away.”

“Oh–”

“And I don’t wanna look away.”

The room was cloaked in a stillness that swaddled the both of you. She committed the outline of your visage to memory, every subtle movement, every shift of breath. Your heartbeat created a haunting rhythm in her ears, urging her to pull away, to step back. But with you this close, eyes this dark and needy, she couldn’t bring herself to listen. Not now. Not when she could feel the warmth radiating off you, filling the narrow space between you with a terrifying tension.

You exhaled shakily, your charged utterance fanning the flames between you, “I don't like it when you look away…”

You and your delicate, daunting eyes—you’d be her undoing. But it would all be worth it if she got just one taste of all that you were.

“I-I’m struggling,” She cooed, fingers trembling as she cupped your face, trying and failing to fight off her hunger for you. “Tell me to stop, please... before I do something I can't take back.”

She was so fucking desperate—her entire being thrummed with it, that raw ache she knew only you could soothe. Desperate for you, your lips, for any sense of release from the emotions tearing her apart.

And as she stared at your perfect, pouty lips, she was beginning to accept that this might be it—the moment she finally risked it all.

“Riri… I–” You sounded wounded, and it shattered her heart all over again. Because she could see it in your eyes, hear it in your rapid breaths—that same intense longing—that hurt. And all she wanted was to ease it, to answer your silent cries.

Riri leaned in, closing the remaining distance between you, her ravenous mouth hovering inches away from yours, the heat of your breath entangling with hers as everything faded away.

But just as your lips were about to meet, a knock at the door shattered the silence, yanking her back to reality.

“That's Keem...” You mumbled, but you didn’t pull away, your sight still locked on hers, lingering, like maybe you didn’t want this to end any more than she did.

Riri’s world began to topple in on her as the reality of what she was doing started settling in. She pulled back, her hands slipping away from your cheeks, and her heart seemed to stop beating when she noticed the look on your face—unmistakable rejection etched into your features.

She wanted to reach out, to somehow make it right, to tell you that none of this was your fault and that everything would be okay. But the words wouldn’t come. She was already wrapped up in a web of lies—lies to herself, to everyone around her, and she couldn’t bear adding you to that list.

“I should go. Yeah, I should go. I'm gonna go.”

She stood up, and you didn't stop her, as she made her way over to the door. The knocking came again, echoing in her blazing sternum, and she froze, not sure what to do.

“I uh–”

You crept up behind her awkwardly, just as frazzled as she was. “I’ll uh, I’ll get it.”

When you opened the door, there stood her best friend, dressed in the floral fleece sweater she’d given him for Christmas, his favorite jacket—the one he practically lived in. Her stomach churned violently; she wouldn't be able to hold her vomit any longer, and when their eyes locked, Riri gagged.

“Hey baby.” You chirped, your voice flustered and nervous. She could see you were trying to smooth over the awkwardness, but the look on Hakeem’s face made it clear you were only making things worse.

Hakeem's eyes darted from you to Riri, then back to Riri, his face unreadable. “Ri, what are you doing here?”

“Project,” Was all she could manage, anymore words and she’d puke all over his Air Forces.

“Your phone don't work?” He turned back to you, eyes sharp with accusation.

“Sorry baby, I had my phone turned off. We were working on the project and just lost track of time. I forgot you said you were coming over.”

God, you fucking sucked at lying.

Hakeem's broad shoulders filled the door, blocking Riri’s only escape route. She knew that look in his eyes too—suspicion. She needed to get out, fast, before she passed out from the guilt storming her little body.

“Yo shit was off too?” He shot Riri a look, his eyes erratic and filled with something she didn’t dare try to decipher. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze, and she was certain he noticed that too.

Riri shook her head, looking everywhere but at his gorgeous face; she wouldn't be able to lie to him if she did—Hakeem was the only person that could make her unravel with a single glance. “I was with Z when you called. My bad, man.”

She shielded herself from his threatening glare as she finally slipped past him and into the hallway. “I gotta go though, I’m seeing her later.”

“Oh, aight.” Keem’s tone was flat—unconvinced.

Riri glanced at the two of you one last time, her eyes narrowing as she noticed the way Keem’s arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close almost protectively—possessively. A pang of confusion hit her as she caught a flicker of jealousy in his gaze, as if he suddenly saw her as a threat.

Your eyes were glued to the floor in shame, averting hers as she backed away.

“Ima see you…”

Speculation thickened the air as Riri made her way down the never-ending hallway, battling her rising nausea with each step.

Just before she reached the elevator, Hakeem called after her, his voice steady, and a little too deliberate, “Drive safe, Ri, say hey to Riy for me.”

Her steps faltered, and she turned, locking eyes with him. His stare was sharp, assessing, almost daring her to slip up.

“Yeah.” She called out, wanting to appear untested.

But the second the elevator closed, Riri was doubled over, emptying the contents of her stomach all over the floor. She’d never had a fear of confined spaces before, but now, it felt like the walls were closing in on her, restricting her airflow as she descended down to the depths of Hell—where she knew her monster had been lying in wait.