Day Twenty-Four: Making Up

Day Twenty-Four: Thursday

Twenty-Fourth Challenge: Making Up

“Ari, you really need to make up with him.” Said the Japanese, slipping a mug of coffee into the woman’s hands. She didn’t reply, staring sulkily at the television screen.

It had been a week since she came knocking at his door, tears silently sliding down her pale face. He immediately took her in and she burst into more tears, crying and shaking as well as blaming herself for whatever had happened. Once he had gotten her to calm down, she explained the situation to him (while trying to remain calm) and eventually ended up sobbing once more, hugging her knees and burying her face into them, trembles rushing through her body.

Touta Matsuda could only gather an argument between her and Matt, with him calling her expletives and eventually her slapping him, and then walking out. It clearly took its toll on the young woman, who refused to have Touta mention anything about her currently ignored boyfriend. When asked if she knew where he was, she clammed up and told him with a cold expression, “I don’t care”. However, he knew she meant otherwise.

She obviously still cared, catching her looking dejectedly at a picture of the two of them in her phone. Ari then mumbled something about a text from Peters and kept her phone, and as Touta left the room, he thought he could hear her sniffing and asking herself why she had to be so dependent and clingy. Making her go to work wasn’t as hard as it seemed to be, as she would get up before him (she told him she’d take the couch and he refused to let her sleep there and then she said something about gentlemen or such) and have a cup of coffee with a light meal before going to HQ herself.

He had a feeling she needed time alone.

He respected that.

This gave Touta a chance to drive by the house where Ari lived, and he took notice of a black car sitting in the driveway. He could only conclude that the car was indeed Matt’s, and that he didn’t quite have the heart to go out. As he drove away, he swore he caught Matt looking outside the house with a hopeful look. At the sight of a simple car going to the city, however, all hope seemed to leave and he went back in.

“Eight killed in a shootout,” she said (mostly to herself) and Touta caught the off-topic reply. He frowned, sitting beside her with his own mug in hand and his warm brown eyes sticking to the screen as well. “Suspect arrested.” He stayed silent, letting her speak to himself (and to him, but he wasn’t as sure). “That’s odd. No one told me about that today…weren’t we assigned to do anything about it?” she asked.

“Another division took care of it, A.”

“…ah.” She sighed and slowly drank her coffee, then went to the kitchen, saying something about sugar and cream. Touta watched sadly and then stood up. She had to make up with him. Not that he didn’t like her with him, but it was that she was just so upset and it was really unlike her to see her that way. He walked to the kitchen and saw her mixing in the sugar, and then gently asked her to sit.

She did so without complaint.

“Ari,” he started slowly, watching her. Her face was blank so far. “Have you thought of reconciling with Matt? Even once?”

“No.” her voice was clipped.

“Why not?”

“He called me a whore who slept with you and Peters while he was gone, he said he couldn’t stand my alcoholic tendencies and he called me ungrateful.” She glared down at the innocent white mug. “How would you feel if you had a girlfriend and basically called you an ungrateful, cheating and unstable drinker?”

“Indifferent. I have no girlfriend.”

“Haha.” Her voice leaked with sarcasm and bitterness. “Very funny.”

“I’m serious, though.” He frowned yet again, watching as she idly stirred her coffee. “Come on, Ari. If you feel bad about this, then how do you think he feels?”

“Satisfied with himself.” She looked away. “I bet he’s glad I went away.”

“Don’t think of it like that…let’s look back. How did he react when you started to leave?”

“He didn’t stop me.”

“Before that.”

“Ari, wait –”

“…he told me to wait.”

“Wait?”

“Wait.”

“Then what happened after that?”

“I slapped him.” He blinked.

“You…you slapped Matt?”

“Right cheek. Felt damn good doing so.” She snorted. But through that seemingly uninterested look, he could see it in her eyes that she was upset, still hurt over what had happened. She bit the bottom of her lip and ran a hand through her hair unconsciously, soon gulping down the coffee in that moment of silence.

“Listen to me, Ari. You need to make up with Matt.” She was about to protest, but he went on. “Really, how do you think he feels after saying that to you? Do you really think he enjoyed seeing you cry?” he gave her a hard look. “If you slapped him and he wanted to harm you, he wouldn’t have let himself just get slapped just like that. He let you do that to him. And if the whole thing is hurting you, then imagine how he felt when you just walked out of the house.”

Memories crashed.

She saw and remembered.

Waking up and seeing he was gone with no explanation. Traces of him disappeared, and the house seeming like he never lived there in the first place.

She thought of her situation.

Leaving in front of him, coming while he was gone to take important belongings. Having him sleep alone on the bed, having him cook for one – was he even eating? Not bothering to communicate and it had already been a week since she stomped out, angry and too controlled by her emotions to care.

“…I see,” she said softly. He reached out and patted her shoulder.

“You need to make up with him.”

“…tomorrow?”

“Today.” Another look. “No more delaying.”

* * * * *

Matt let out a shuddery breath, tugging at his hair and staring at the front door. No one had come in or out ever since she left, and the anticipation was killing him. He wasn’t even sure on where she was. He had asked Matsumoto to track her down, but the Japanese refused and told him to find out himself.

He didn’t have the heart to come out of the house. Shame ate at him and he groaned, remembering every single detail of that fight. How angry her voice was, how the tears ran down her face, how hurt she looked and how her reaction was multiplied as he stared into her green eyes. He tried bringing her back, but the slap on the cheek stopped him.

He was right.

He was a bastard.

As he was about to stand up to pick up another bottle of vodka (that came from her liquor supply), soft knocks on the door echoed throughout the room.

His blood froze, and his breathing caught.

Matt’s eyes widened.

Another knock, impatient.

The man got up and walked slowly, dislodging all thoughts of Ari away. It was Matsumoto, maybe, telling him off in person. Maybe it was a delivery guy for something he bought online and forgot about. Maybe it was a girl scout wanting him to buy some cookies. Maybe it was –

“Took your time,” Ari scoffed, crossing her arms. But the bite in her words wasn’t there. A slight tremble wrapped her words, a hesitation, a slight edge contained with fear. There she was in front of him, wearing wrinkled clothes and carrying a white backpack most likely containing her things. She didn’t dare look at him, and he understood why.

In a flash, she was in his arms.

Matt didn’t say anything, and neither did she. They just remained there, at the doorway, he fiercely holding her in his arms and she doing nothing but close her eyes and slowly take in his scent. He smelled of alcohol and cigarette smoke.

“B-Bastard, I told you to f-fucking stop smoking,” she stuttered, but the last word was caught in her throat. All emotions took over and her legs gave way, Matt gently supporting her as she broke down and cried in his arms. She cried about many things. She cried about him. And all he could do was run a hand through her hair, soothing and rocking her gently, eventually lifting her up and carrying her to the bedroom, not wanting her to see what he had done to the living room.

She punched him weakly, shaking her head and cursing. But instead of cursing him, she cursed herself, unable to say anything else as she slowly stopped. Matt gently held her and kissed the top of her head, holding her close and murmuring soft words into her ear.

Once she stopped, he sighed and looked at her.

The mark of the slap was still there.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, but he silenced her.

“No, I am.” He looked away. “I’m sorry, Ari. I really am sorry.”

“B-But I slapped you…”

“You had perfectly good reason to.” He smiled weakly. “It’s nothing.”

“I left you.”

“I know.” He looked back at her. “Please, Ari. Don’t do that to me.”

The next thing they knew, the process was repeated, except with her assuring him and him on the verge of breaking down. Ari held him tightly as he shook, listening to his incoherent words and promising she would never leave him again.

“I’m not leaving.”

And it was just like before.