AN: This is my entry for the Negitoro Summer Smash (first part of it, at least) This prompt was submitted by Can'tCatchRabbit from the other year: "After losing their SO's under tragic circumstances, Luka and Miku meet at a grief support group. Instant attraction turns to passion that quickly spirals out of control. Are their feelings based on a real emotional connection, or are they simply licking each other's wounds?"

Obviously, given the subject matter, this is going to come with some content warnings. Namely, grief/grieving, issues with alcoholism, and terminal illness.


It's a grey kind of evening. Withered autumn leaves skitter across the street, pushed by a breeze described as bright on the news but bitter in reality. They catch in the dirt-trodden seams of the concrete slab pavement. Some gather where the slabs are outright missing, gaping wounds on an already cracked surface. Meadow Avenue has been an optimistic name for years.

Luka tugs her scarf more securely around her neck, trying not to let it make weird bumps under her coat. It's soft, bright turquoise. A little rebellion against the bleak weather and the oncoming night.

She hates this road, a sad little extension of the high street that was abandoned years ago, now the home of off-licences, bookies, and about four types of takeaways. The place she's headed to, the steps she's so familiar tracing, is in between an off-licence and a charity shop whose stock of itchy beige jumpers and worn out shoes never seems to change.

She's a little late, having slept through her second snoozed alarm from her nap. This time the reason's not wine from the night before, just exhaustion. One of those nights where she can't quite get to sleep no matter how long she lays there, the lack of sleep following her into the day. She smiles to herself behind her scarf—at least that particular habit hasn't made a return.

As she passes a takeaway the light buzzes on, and a group of noisy teens muscle in like they're all one being to order from the other teen behind the counter. They don't give her any notice when she stops at the traffic lights, stamping her feet to keep warm. Thank god. Sometimes they get rowdy, calling names out at whoever is unlucky enough to stand here.

Next to her, another woman comes to wait, clutching an oversized tote bag with a couple of cute charms looped around the handle. A little pink octopus waves up at her, a slightly cross-eyed look on its face. Another rebellion against the grey of the day, Luka thinks, keeping her smile hidden inside. The woman's got her turquoise hair in one of those half-up half-down styles that looks like it takes a lot of effort to perfect. The traffic light tints them both red, amber, green, then they both cross the road. Luka's glad for the subtle reminder to stop being weird by staring at her.

She's halfway across when she hears her stumble.

A muttered curse, a clatter of what sounds like a phone, and Luka pauses, sighing internally. She's going to be really late if she helps, but to be honest she's not feeling that meeting, sitting in that room with the one terrible heater that belches out sweaty air. So she turns, pretends she's a good Samaritan instead using this as a delaying tactic.

Uncaring that the traffic light is switching back to red, Luka kneels next to the woman, silently helping her scoop up the contents of her bag. She's stuffing it in with jerky movements, the octopus flailing around while Luka hopes she's not making her uncomfortable. She's never been good at small talk.

'Thanks,' the woman mutters, but it seems genuine. Her voice is odd, a bit thick, like she's got a cold.

Or crying.

She looks up at Luka, a watery smile on her face. The angrily beeping car behind them with the too-bright lights illuminates the tear tracks on her cheeks. Luka stands, flips the driver off, then offers her hand to the woman. She takes it after a brief moment. They're cold, a little dry. Once she's up, Luka can see the dirt on her jeans marking her knees.

'You okay?' Luka asks, dropping her hand. This is so not her place, and the words feel a bit forced, hanging in the air uncomfortably. The driver beeps again, long, hard, shaking his fist. The woman nods, and Luka guides her without touching across to the other side, taking a second to mouth insults at the driver before he can shoot down the road.

'I'm fine. Really,' the woman says. She stands there, not sure what to do with herself, and Luka's feeling the same. Best get it over with, then.

'Uh, I have to get going,' she says, gesturing vaguely.

'Me too. Thanks again, by the way.'

'No problem. Think that guy might've flattened you otherwise.'

Slightly awkward laughter fills the air, and Luka's grateful when they step apart, going to their respective locations. Or she would be, had they not started in the same direction, taking the awkwardness with them like the world's worst third wheel.

Luka laughs again before she can stop herself, awkward and forced and ugh, the ground had better hurry up and swallow her right now.

'It looks like we're going the same way,' the woman says, diplomatically if Luka says so herself. It eases some of the strange tension that would've smothered them if they'd remained silent, but it's still uncomfortable.

Luka just nods in reply, thankful when she sees the steps in-between the buildings leading down to the meeting room. She stops, and the woman stops with her.

Oh no.

Of course.

'Are you… are you here for the meeting?' the woman asks. Her voice has gone strange again, and Luka recognises that voice, has felt that feeling in her throat, and it's hard, speaking to someone outside that meeting room who's meant to be inside. Everything is meant to stay in there, everything, and she doesn't like that this woman has unwillingly broken the sanctity of this rule. Even though it's not her fault, it doesn't make this feeling go away.

'Yeah,' she says. The word hangs limply around them, refusing to budge.

Quietly, they head down the stairs, and the woman holds the door open for her, trying to smile even though it's brittle.

Luka doesn't smile back. It would make it worse. Instead, she simply opens the door and gestures her in, past the laminated notice on the door that lists all the different meetings in the week.

Today reads: GROUP BEREAVEMENT COUNSELLING - FRI 5PM.

After this they'll never interact again. After this that veil will be back down again, and this meeting room won't spill out into the street again.

Why did she agree to volunteer here? Why is she still doing it three years later?

Before the woman closes the door, she speaks again. 'Oh, I'm Miku by the way. Though I'll have to introduce myself anyway, right?'

Damn it. It's easier to disassociate from everyone when you only read the name on those stupid tags they have to make. Luka tries to smile this time, just so she at least does something, It comes out as a grimace instead. And it's not even Miku's fault—she's just trying to be pleasant, make the situation less weird. It's Luka's fault everything is so uncomfortable.

'Luka,' she says, then moves into the room, hoping Miku will find a seat while she goes to help Solaria with the tea and coffee.

Calling the room minimalist would be a compliment. It's square, with a low polystyrene tiled ceiling that health and safety haven't deemed dangerous enough to spend the money on, and high, small, frosted windows on the side that isn't covered by the adjoining buildings. Because of the limited daylight, the overhand strip lights are always on, their harshness bringing out every scuff on sickly yellow walls.

Luka quickly crosses over to the kitchenette behind the open door. Solaria is visible through the hatch left in the wall, fussing about with a pack of digestive biscuits that refuses to open. Letting the door close behind them for some semblance of privacy, Luka takes the packet from her and tears it open.

'God, you make it look so easy,' Solaria huffs.

'Can't let you mangle it. All those biscuits ending up as crumbs on the floor. Tragic.'

'Ever the sympathetic ear,' Solaria says, rolling her eyes, but she's smiling as she hands Luka the kettle. She's slightly older than her, and always manages to exude a sense of warmth, lighting up people around them. Her dress sense leans hippy, all long skirts and a penchant for jewellery with gemstones and feathers. Good choice for a therapist. 'I've already taken what everyone wants. Go and ask the one who came in with you. First timer, isn't she? Poor thing.'

Luka hides a grimace. 'Yeah, she is. I'll go ask.'

'And give her a tag and a marker.'

'The tags are stupid.'

'People like them.'

'They're stupid. It's like we work in retail. That's reason enough for therapy.'

Solaria glares at her. 'Honestly, why do I still let you volunteer here? Questioning my great ideas all the time.'

'Dunno, what with your winning personality—'

Solaria chucks a tag at her and Luka catches it deftly, smirking. The other woman just tuts, laughing under her breath as she turns her attention back to making drinks.

Back in the other room, Miku's taken her seat. Next to hers. Luka takes a moment to breathe before going over to her.

It's not that she's irritated with her particularly, it's just… well.

It's not good to make friends here. Not like this.

'Want a drink? Tea, coffee, water, juice?' she says. It comes out easier than before, probably because she's said this line so many times it's imprinted on her brain. It really is like retail. Miku looks up at her with a smile that's more genuine this time. Luka gets it. Sometimes the hardest part is walking in the place. Miku's fiddling with her bag, messing with the octopus charm, so she's probably still nervous, but who wouldn't be?

Not like they're here for knitting club.

'A water would be lovely, thank you.'

'Okay. Here. You have to write your name on this.'

Miku takes the tag but not the marker, instead pulling out a cute pencil case from her bag. 'Oh, great. I love making these.'

There's no sarcasm in her voice. That'll warm her up to Solaria, Luka thinks, and she's proved right when they hand out drinks. Solaria introduces herself to Miku, hands her a water and smiles down at the tag. They're only little slips of paper that fit into transparent plastic badges, but Miku has carefully written out her name in the calligraphy style you see on birthday cards. There's a little butterfly in the corner in pink. Solaria immediately compliments her on it, giving Luka a 'see, I told you so!' look before she goes moves on.

Luka makes to follow until Solaria interrupts her, speaking in a low voice only they can hear. 'Can you stay with her? You know I like introducing them to everything myself, but she was late and I've got to get everyone their drinks. I'll finish up, you go talk to her.'

Luka nods, resigning herself to sitting back down before the meeting starts. Thankfully, she's saved from starting the conversation.

'I have to do these all the time at work,' Miku says. 'I never get to make them nice, though.'

'Where'd you work?' Luka asks. May as well get her settled before explaining how things work. Sometimes, whatever therapist that referred them here will explain. There's not many that do, though.

'Just in finance,' Miku replies, a familiar grimace passing over her features before they smooth out again, the type that tells Luka exactly what kind of job it is.

Before she can stop herself, Luka asks her bluntly. 'Doesn't sound like fun. You got any hobbies?'

Miku brightens immediately. 'Oh, yeah, I love art! Drawing, painting… I got into making things the other year. Like my little octopus here, look.'

The octopus that stared at her on the pavement is suddenly being thrust under her nose. Miku's expression is all doe-eyed and hopeful, a puppy showing its stick to whoever will look.

'I found a magazine that showed all these little crochet creatures—I thought it was more of a clothes thing, but once I figured out how to make a magic circle I was good to go.'

She chats about crocheting terms and designs she's thinking of doing, accepting Luka's hums and nods as suitable replies. Miku's face is animated, each emotion obvious before its replaced by the next one. It's charming in a way, especially since Luka gets called cold so often she's not sure anything manages to make her expression change from its default resting bitch face. Still, there's elements that give away the reason they're here. A cardigan, well-worn, is snugged around Miku, stretched sleeves hanging past her palms, and her fingers curl around it like a lifeline. A slight nervous pitch to her voice, and the fact she quickly darts her eyes around to check the room before she turns back again, like every so often she's reminded she's not just somewhere more normal.

'So what about you? Do… do you work here?' Miku asks.

Luka is jolted back into reality, taking a moment to process the question.

'Oh, uh, I'm just a… kind of unofficial volunteer here. I walk dogs, actually.'

Miku's eyes light up. 'No way. Is it as cool as it sounds?'

Well, at least it's a topic she's comfortable with. There's still a nagging sense that she should be careful, that she shouldn't try too hard to appear friendly, because then there's expectations she simply can't meet. But the dogs are a safe topic.

'Sometimes. The weather can be a problem, though there's less people around when it rains. And owners can definitely be hit or miss, and they like to undo all your training...'

Somehow it's easy to talk to Miku, easier than before. The room eases its tense, sad presence every so often before someone moves in the corner of her eye, reminding her.

'Do you have a dog?' Miku asks in a lull.

Luka feels her throat tighten, and she takes a second to answer. 'Yeah. He's called Muffin.'

Miku must sense it's a sore topic, so she doesn't press. They fall silent, and it's back to a tense one.

As the clock stuck lopsided on the wall ticks over to ten past five, Solaria has finished her rounds, and takes her seat. She's in the middle of her half of the circle, opposite Luka, and she gives her a slight smile before introducing the group.

Some days Luka is present. Some days her eyes drift over to the potted plant wilting steadily in the corner before its inevitable replacement.

Today's a plant kind of day.

Until, that is, Miku makes her introduction. Solaria says the usual spiel. Say however much you're comfortable with. Take your time. All the niceties that pretend this situation is okay, that it won't feel like you're pulling your intestines out bit by bit for all the others staring at you to see, pointing and whispering, comparing their own gory details.

Some let it out in a normal, healthy way. Little by little they reveal it all, talking themselves through it as they go. Some clam up, refusing to talk until a few meetings in, unless they've abandoned the idea altogether. There's been a few of those. Luka was almost one of them until she was threatened with various kitchenware by Meiko, not standing for Luka's, as she put it, 'stubborn pig-headedness'. Some open their mouths and it all spills out on the floor in one steaming heap.

Luka wonders what kind Miku is.

'… We'd been married for three years, but I'd known him since he was a kid.' Miku says. Her voice is steady, but it starts to waver with her next words. Luka makes herself concentrate. She needs to help Solaria guide the group, and she can't space out the whole time. 'It was a car accident, in the end. We were going to visit his mother while Miki was at her friend's house and a big silver Mercedes just sped out. I remembered that even then. That it was a Mercedes. Just went straight through the red light. I got put in therapy for a while and got recommended to come here. So, here I am.'

A husband, then. Then the rest of it hits her—not just a husband, but someone she's known for her whole life. She can't help but feel a lump in her throat at the way Miku says it. All mechanical, even now. Is that how she sounds, when she tells her part? Flipping through the facts like they're words on a script because after all this time it's just another part of her. Another fucked up, stupid part that never should have happened, but it did.

But it isn't Luka's job to cry. She's not even sure why this is affecting her so much in the first place. She knows nothing about Miku other than this. And she's heard these stories before, so many times.

So she sits, tries not to drift away from the group, watches Miku's lips close to a thin line, and lets the rest of the session run its course. Despite her best efforts, their encounter outside starts to run through her head again with a strange feeling, soft and sharp all at once. Like she wants to get to know this woman who hates her shitty finance job and puts a little crochet octopus on her tattered tote bag. It's a dangerous thought, and Luka shoves it to the back of her head.

There's no making friends here. She knows that. And she knows this tiny soft feeling fluttering around her body, that want, no, need for connection, and knows that's even more dangerous. Luka can't chase this. She can't.

She's fucked up enough in her life as it is. If she risks this, the bottom of a bottle will start to be the only thing she thinks about. That burning taste sliding down her throat, the promise of forgetting until the morning until the next one beckons, the promise of fire scorching not only her body but her flat and friends and the last, tenuous thread of a relationship with her mother will come true.

Miku doesn't speak again, not really. Her hands clutch the octopus, squishing the round head until its eyes press together, delicate turquoise nails disappearing into the fabric.

The group goes round, and after Miku's introduction, the rest is quite light in comparison, a caring atmosphere settling in like a warm blanket. Luka should've expected it, really. It's mainly the ones who have been here a while, they know the ropes as much as she does. Solaria's the only one with any qualifications. Sure, Luka helps out, but she's only here on a voluntary basis. So these sorts of sessions are welcome, even if she can't help but think about Miku, refusing to look over and see if those nails are still digging into the little pink octopus.

Eventually, the sterile white clock on the wall shows the hour's passed, and Solaria draws things to a close.

Everyone goes through the motions, smiling and waving goodbye, while hurriedly pulling on bags and coats and scarves, beelining towards the door. Luka and Solaria pick up the cups, piling them into the tiny dishwasher in the kitchenette. They work through the task in silence, moving around each other easily.

The evening beckons, and Luka thinks dully about what waits for her at home. A pizza, maybe. Does she have any in? Muffin will still be fast asleep, exhausted from his playtime with the other dogs today, so she could stop and pick something up that's at least a tiny bit healthier.

There's a clunk as Solaria pushes the heavy door of the dishwasher shut, and it beeps before humming noisily to itself.

Luka looks through the hatch in the wall, ready to say a quiet goodbye after putting the empty ring of chairs away.

But there's still someone sat in the circle, all by themselves.

Miku.

Luka tries not to give away how her stomach sinks. It's not like anyone's looking, so the self control is pointless, but… A deep breath doesn't suffuse her with any courage or calm, and she's yet to move away from the hatch. She needs to do something instead of standing here like an idiot, though.

Another silent sigh, and Luka steps out from the kitchen. Miku looks up at her, but doesn't say anything. Her eyes are still a little red and puffy, and there's a tissue scrunched up in her hand.

Luka stands in awkward silence a moment more, cursing inwardly when she realises Miku isn't going to talk first. In fact, the woman appears to be wrestling with something, her hands fiddling with the tissue, scrunching it even more. At least it's not the octopus this time.

'Uh, hey. Need anything?' Luka blurts, and it rings too loudly in the room now it's devoid of people. The words hang limp, and they sound too blasé for everything that Miku has had to go through this evening. But she can't take them back, so she leaves them hanging there, a shitty olive branch.

Miku comes back to herself a second later, a somewhat flustered look contorting her features. 'No, I'm fine—I mean… no. Never mind.'

She doesn't want to rush her out, but Solaria's finishing up in the kitchen, ready to start folding up the chairs, and there's nothing worse than sitting alone while everyone packs up around you.

Luka sighs inwardly. She's been doing that a lot today. 'You sure?'

Miku shakes her head, standing up suddenly and stepping away from the chair before realising she needs to get her coat on and freezes, clearly overwhelmed. 'Actually, yes,' she blurts out. 'I… I…'

Solaria bustles in from the kitchen, all easy motion to their awkward stiffness. 'Oh. Are you alright, Miku? Need anything?'

'Yes, I'm fine,' Miku says, though it's obvious she isn't. Solaria stares for a moment, but once it's clear Miku isn't going to continue, she starts on the chairs, giving a glance to Luka on her way. Once Solaria is folding up the first chair, giving it a shove when it inevitably gets stuck, Miku makes a decision. 'I'll help,' she says determinedly.

The three of them put everything away in record time. Solaria hands Luka the keys to lock up, needing to get home to family. Once that made her feel bitter, now it's just numb.

Miku's slowly putting her arms in her coat like she'd do anything just to stay in this horrible, choked old building, her face crumpled. Seems like record time isn't what she wanted. And finally, it hits.

Miku doesn't want to be alone.

There's about five million voices in Luka's head telling her to just get out, grab a pizza and watch films while Muffin snores next to her. They're all reasonable.

But there's one that isn't, and it's the one that's sticking out like a splinter in her thumb.

Before she knows it, she's wrapping her scarf around her neck as she goes over to Miku, and the words she shouldn't say are spilling right out. 'Might grab some food. It's always good after this, and that's my own advice, not Solaria's.' There's no spoken offer for Miku to come with her, but there doesn't need to be. Those strung out, red-rimmed turquoise eyes find hers and Miku's whole body droops with relief while Luka's stomach twists.

'Can,' Miku starts, before her eyes flick to the floor. Already she's been through so many emotions this evening, and Luka's seen almost every one of them pass over her. A heart on her sleeve type. That… doesn't make her feel better about this. 'Can I come with you?'

'Sure.' Despite the heavy knot in her stomach, the way Miku's face lights up when she says it overrides any doubts, her smile making her feel a dangerous headiness.

Connection. Luka wishes it wasn't such a dangerous want.

As Luka locks the building behind her, determinedly not looking at the sign stuck to the door, the awkward third wheel silence hangs around them again. As they walk down the street, the silence following them, the thought that maybe she's just built to pick up bad habits occurs to her. It's not the first time it's swam around her mind, not at all, but god… These soft little feelings for someone she's just met today… Luka grits her teeth. That's not the first time it's happened, either.

Don't think about it. Don't.

Another thought sneaks in—is this a worse habit than the alcohol? Luka sighs, rubbing her forehead. What a question to ask herself.

'Is everything alright?' Miku asks, looking up at her. The puffiness around her eyes has settled slightly, not so noticeable in the early autumn dark.

'Thinking I might just grab a coffee instead,' Luka admits. Her appetite is non existent on Friday evenings—pizza is the easy option to make herself eat.

'There's a coffee place on the next street. I've not been, but Miki has. It'll still be open. I could get something there too, and we could sit down maybe, if you wanted,' Miku says, then shakes her head. 'Oh, I shouldn't assume. You'll have places to be, I'm sure.'

Luka fumbles over a response in her head. It'd be nice, and Muffin will be good for another hour or so. Sitting in the warm before traipsing to her car and starting the dim drive home. The old sofa. Cheap pizza.

She really does set herself up for failure.

'I'm not doing anything. Sure.'

Miku's smile grows brighter, the brightest it's been tonight, actually. It immediately makes Luka want to smile back, and she does, just a little, despite her murky thoughts.


The shop is a small building on the corner a couple streets over. A menu board with swirling calligraphy sits in front, and window boxes full of seasonal flowers are on either side of the pastel green door. Too nice for a place like this, but it seems busy enough. Not just full of tired workers on their way home either, all desperate for any kind of caffeine even if it resembles and tastes like sludge. The décor inside is just as nicely done, simple cream walls and plenty of leafy plants. The art on the wall all seems to be by local artists. At least the prices are somewhat reasonable.

Luka gets a black coffee and an obscene amount of sugar packets, while Miku opts for a more sensible tea with a slice of strawberry shortcake. Now they're further away from that building, Luka can push the thoughts that go along with the place where they can't be heard. Just sitting with a potential new friend. That's all this is.

They tuck themselves into a little corner table, sitting opposite each other by the window, all the dreary cold trapped on the other side.

One by one, Luka tears open the sugar packets, pouring them into her coffee under the somewhat concerned eyes of Miku. It reminds her of Meiko and the particularly mother-hen look she gets when Luka's about to do something stupid.

That look appears pretty often.

'You said about Miki before,' Luka says, leaving any actual definition of "before" lingering in the air, haphazardly piling the empty packets on the side of her plate. 'Is she your daughter?'

Miku does a soft little smile and nod into her tea that's cupped in her hands, one that makes warmth and a little bit of jealousy bloom in Luka's chest for the daughter that it's for. She's not seen a smile like that off her own mother in a while. Makes sense, though. She banishes that thought as quickly as it arrives.

'Yeah. She's my little baby. Although not so little anymore,' she adds, laughing. 'Fifteen just a couple of months ago.'

Luka's always been crap with guessing ages, but Miku looks fairly young, even with the extra lines stress has inflicted on her. Big eyes, rounded cheeks, probably gets asked for ID all the time at the supermarket.

Miku catches her scrutiny, and her smile turns wry. 'I'm thirty, if you're wondering. Thirty-one later this year.'

'Oh,' Luka says, then scrambles to say something so that doesn't sound like a horribly judgey comment. 'Sounds like you love her a lot. It's nice to see.'

Miku laughs, and it's only a bit at Luka's expense. 'Alright, now you've asked this lady's age, how old are you?'

'Thirty-four,' Luka replies. 'No kids, unless you count the furry one.' She feels her throat tighten as she says it, and takes a gulp of coffee to hide it. Oh, Muffin. It's not his fault he belonged to Lily before. He loved Luka almost as much from the start, anyway. And she does love the lazy furball back. She tries to look neutral, and it must work, since Miku prods more this time.

'Aw, cute. What kind is he? Have you got any pictures?' Miku asks. 'Wait, sorry. I get excited when it comes to pets. I just don't have time for one in-between work and with Miki at secondary school.'

Luka laughs, and it feels so nice in that moment, so normal. She's not done this in ages, not even with Meiko, one of very few bridges she hasn't burned yet.

Instead of outright telling her, Luka unzips her coat pocket and grabs her phone, wincing at the obvious crack spidering its way across the top right corner. She finds the action shot of Muffin jumping into the lake at the park she likes to take the dogs, his front paws starting to make a giant splash.

'Oh my god,' Miku chokes on the piece of cake she just put in her mouth. 'He's called Muffin?'

'Well, yeah,' Luka smirks. 'Wouldn't you call him that?'

'He's huge!'

'And cuddly, a cute little muffin.'

'I'd uh, ' her nose wrinkles adorably, 'hesitate to call him little, Luka.'

'He acts like it sometimes, even though he's definitely reached the old man stage,' Luka says. The more she talks about this, the easier it is. It's not been like this for so long. She forgot when it was easy to talk. When there wasn't so many mistakes hanging around. 'But yeah, he's huge. Saint Bernard mixed with god knows what else—the shelter where Li—where he was from only knew the one breed. Whatever he's mixed with is just as much of a couch potato, though.'

Miku doesn't question the slip up, but her face tightens for a second. It's probably easy to guess. Not like some random dog-walker is going to volunteer at a group like that.

After that, they just eat and talk, and it's just… easy. Miku talks more about her crochet and other art projects she's been doing. Luka talks more about some of the mischief the dogs cause at work. Movies, books, TV shows, music. It's light and funny and everything Luka's wanted for three years with someone who doesn't know all her history. Miku is bright when she's out of that claustrophobic room, away from the spectre of grief. They talk until their cups are long drained and there's no sign of crumbs on Miku's plate.

Finally, Miku glances at her phone and winces. 'It's late,' she says. 'I should let you go.'

Luka checks the time and nods, and they both stand up reluctantly. As much as she doesn't want to break this little bubble of calm, Muffin will want to go out soon.

And the next time they'll see each other… well. It won't be this.

'Oh, wait,' Miku says, then dithers again, fiddling with the buttons on her coat. 'Never mind.'

'Everything alright?' Luka asks, glad Miku just looks more embarrassed than upset this time.

'Do… I mean… Would you like my number? For messaging.' She stumbles over her words, then sighs. 'Ugh. Obviously.'

Luka laughs, hope and relief spilling over. And here, where her thoughts don't run rampant and spoil everything, she just holds out her phone on the contacts page, waiting until a slightly red-faced Miku taps in her details, nails clicking on the screen. She hands it back, immediately going to fiddle with her octopus keychain.

'I forgot to say how cute that was.' Luka points at the charm, and Miku smiles again, all embarrassment forgotten.

'I'll make you one!' Miku announces happily. Maybe it's presumptuous, but it sounds like she means it, too. They stand still for a moment longer, looking at each other, neither wanting to be the first one to break the spell, this bright, peaceful atmosphere where it's just about them both, all the shadows trapped on the outside. But Miku clutches her bag closer, and says, 'Well. I guess we'd better get going, then.'

'Sure,' Luka says, and already everything is feeling just a little bit dimmer, a little more oppressive. 'Guess you have to get back for Miki, right?'

'She's at her friend's tonight. But she's old enough to stay on her own anyway.'

Maybe that's why she was so hesitant to go home, then. If Miki had been there, maybe it wouldn't have been such a problem. Luka can't decide whether it's a blessing or a curse that everything's fell out the way it has today. A blessing right now, sure, but…

They're outside now, ready to go their separate ways, swallowed up by the night.

'Thank you,' Miku says quietly. She's staring up at Luka, not quite able to smile but trying nonetheless. 'For today. It made it easier.'

Luka can't bring herself to say anything. She shivers as a chill breeze cuts through the street, her scarf not making much difference. Instead, she just nods.

She makes sure Miku's okay getting home, and she mentions her car parked in the complex five minutes away—it's on a well-lit road, at least. Then it's a brief goodbye, one last attempt at a smile from Miku, Luka unable to bring one back, and they part ways.

Her own car is closer—she should probably tell Miku about this little hidden gem. The thought of the woman keeps her from slipping away too much as she drives in the dreary dark to the supermarket, picking a plastic-wrapped pizza under the sterile white lights, ignoring the call of wine, then another bout in the dark before getting home.

She walks up the path to her maisonette, and a deep woof barely muffled through the window rumbles through the wall, a wet nose pressed to the glass.

'Alright, alright,' she mutters, the already breaking plastic bag hitting her thigh as she struggles to get out her keys. In the hallway, she fumbles for her own door key, trying to get in before Mufiin kicks up a fuss and annoys the landlady upstairs. Thankfully, Muffin's still feeling pretty sedate, so he backs off and waits for her to come in. He's sitting still with a look of familiar badly contained excitement, but he still doesn't start nosing around until Luka gives him the okay. She gives him a little pat on the head as she heads into the kitchen, shoving her pizza in the oven. He had an early dinner before she left for the group, but in true dog fashion Muffin sits there staring anyway, big brown eyes all sad in his droopy face.

Now, the routine.

Pizza. Pajamas. Find a clean plate, find a film, think about the wine, hate the thought that's thinking about the wine.

It's fine that she does this most Fridays. Of course it's fine. As long as she's not drinking, she's doing great, right? It means everything is better. It's been three years already. She's even moved house.

No machinery. No nurse visits. No room that smells all sterile like a hospital, only missing the insipid green paint.

Sniffing, Luka curls her bare toes into Muffin's fur, who's laying at her feet in the hopes of catching a stray pizza crumb. He sighs happily, stretching his paws out, and not longer afterwards he's fallen right back asleep again.

Long after the film's over, stared at but not watched, pizza eaten but not tasted, Luka lies back on the sofa and stares at the ceiling. She should really get around to redecorating properly. The popcorn ceiling is as hideous as ever. They used to fight about it all the time in the other place, decorating. Lily would want to change things constantly, even though they never had the money for it.

They fought about a lot of things.

She remembers when it was easier. Like hanging out with Miku today. They'd find some café, anywhere as long as the coffee was palatable, to-go if it was sunny, sit in if it was raining. How long were they like that for?

Maybe if she'd actually been to one on one therapy, not dumped it a few sessions in, she'd know the answer. But all her memories of Lily are tied up with emotions she refuses to unravel. That's why she left in the middle of a session, just clammed up and slammed the door, sending a curt text message to say she was done. The spiral had been pretty easy to get back into after that.

It always feels close after a night like this.

But today she's had a reprieve, even if it was surrounded by… well, everything else. Think of the good.

It'd been easy outside the room. So easy Luka is actually thinking of asking her to hang out again before the group next week. So easy that Luka finds the logic behind not trying to be friends with Miku easy to disassemble and shove in some abandoned corner of her mind.

Shit. She's too tired for this. Determinately not thinking about anything at all, Luka gets up and sticks her empty plate in the dishwasher, and finishes the rest of her routine.

Nudge a sleeping Muffin with her foot and get him out into the shared garden for the last bathroom trip. Shiver in the cold, shiver in her own bathroom brushing her teeth when he's done, shiver under her own covers until she warms up enough to think about putting her phone down and sleeping.

Just as she's about to get comfortable, her phone buzzes.

Miku (11:03pm) Thanks for today! I hope it was okay of me to ask you. And ask you if you wanted to hang out again sometime? Are you free Sunday?

Miku (11:03pm) I'm sorry this is so late, I just saw the time. If I woke you up, I'm sorry! And I'm sorry for all the questions. And all the sorrying.

A chuckle escapes Luka. Of course she uses proper punctuation. Muffin huffs at the noise disturbing his precious bedtime, so after an apology scratch behind his ears, Luka gives the feelings wedging in her throat a good shove, and replies.

Luka (11:05) Sunday's fine. No sorrying required

Miku (11:06) Cool! We can sort out the details at a reasonable hour. Night, Luka. :)

Luka (11:07) night Miku

For the first time in a long while, Luka falls asleep with a lightness in her chest.