Intervention: A Coalesce Short

Aether’s Apartment

Atlanta, Georgia

United States of America

January 2016

“I know that shit hurts,” Peters told her, “But I can at least promise you that getting fucked up is going to be so worth it. Because in the morning, you’ll have a hangover worse than heartache.” Aether merely raised a middle finger in his direction, which Peters promptly ignored. He continued, “Jake and I used to get shitfaced about girls all the time. We can’t do it now because he’s a doctor and he has a wife, so.”

He expected her to give a snarky reaction, because that’s just what Aether did. She was snark mixed with smile; her words were supposed to hurt but they didn’t because they were laced with playful intention. That was how Peters knew that they were still good and that she was still okay.

But she didn’t say anything. She just stayed there, with her head leaned against the car window and her hands limp in her lap.

“…okay, I’ll try to drive faster.” He muttered. Stepping on the gas, Peters did his best to drive a little faster without risking being arrested by whoever was on patrol on that night.

She eventually talked to him after dull, cramped silence. “You didn’t have to bring me home. I could have taken a cab or something.” That was true. In theory, Peters really didn't have to bring Aether home. She was a grown woman who could do things independently, but he wasn't so sure. She had been in a worse mood that week, and it was hard not to notice.

“Fuck that, I wanted to. Can’t I be a Good Samaritan once in a while? Even though we tend to be at each other’s throats.” She gave a muffled sort of noise and he sighed, eventually reaching a stoplight that blinked red. His phone vibrated; Peters took it out and read the text while the seconds ticked down.

“Do you wanna stay over for a bit or something? I think I have some spare Chinese in the fridge.” Peters gave an affirmative noise and it was quiet again until he started driving; he turned on the radio and both of them sat through horrible pop music until they reached her apartment.

“The offer to get wasted is still on the table,” he said as he parked. Aether shook her head, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“I’d rather sleep. It’s Friday.”

Deciding not to push it, Peters shrugged. “Fine by me. Now, you told me you had some leftover Chinese food and I’d rather not let it spoil in your fridge.” They left the car and entered the apartment, eventually reaching her door a few minutes later. Peters watched as she slid the key in, turned, and the door opened—

“What the fuck?”

Mack, who was on Aether’s couch, made a shh motion and pointed at her television. “Shut the fuck up, it’s the season finale. Tadashi cooked and I brought drinks, you’re welcome, now shut up and get to the kitchen.” Before Aether could even reply properly, Peters shut the door behind them and dragged her into the kitchen, to which Tadasi was indeed something which smelled really, really good. “And before you can say shit, no this does not count as breaking and entering,” he yelled.

Aether gaped. Peters sat her down on one of her chairs, passed an already open beer. “We…we may have been planning this for a week. Well, Tadashi did the planning. Mack just bought drinks and I volunteered to bring you home since Tadashi would be an obvious candidate—”

“…how did you get into my apartment?” Tadashi shot her an apologetic smile, to which she groaned. “My spare keys, T? Really?”

“I promise you that it was for good intentions,” the eldest Korean insisted. Beside her, Mack sat down and took yet another beer from the opened pack. “We didn’t want to steal your furniture or wreck your place. We just wanted to help.”

“By breaking and entering?”

“Shh.” Mack interrupted her, “Shh. This is an intervention.”

“An intervention?” Aether questioned. It was at that point wherein Peters sighed and gently put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to calm her down. “What the fuck are you guys talking about?”

“Look, Tadashi explained it in more detail, okay?” A mumbled sorry from Tadashi’s general direction as well as the sound of food being transferred to a plate, “You’re obviously not at your best because of the shit that happened. So we just wanted to try and help at least. With alcohol, homemade food, and a legal way of breaking and entering.”

She stayed quiet, all four of them eventually gathering around the dining table ten minutes later. The three males chewed on their food but Aether remained silent, only touching it lightly with her fork. Peters and Mack exchanged apprehensive looks. Tadashi kept his eye on her, and eventually, she spoke.

“…you know that you didn’t have to do this for me.”

“We know.” Mack shrugged, “But that doesn’t mean that we should be shitheads who just watch and let you be sad.”

“Was I that sad?”

“There was a disturbance,” Peters confirmed, to which Mack muttered a reference that the former caught and snickered at. Beside her, Tadashi gently nudged Aether’s plate closer to her. The two’s eyes met and she gave the smallest of nods before starting to eat. “But honestly, Aether?” she looked at him. “Honestly. We’re your friends, not soulless co-workers. You don’t have to keep all of that in.”

“It’s unhealthy,” Mack agreed, “like the alcohol we’ll consume later.”

“I don’t want to drink,” Aether argued, but Tadashi shook his head.

“You’ve been needing one. Believe me.” she stared at him for a few seconds before sighing and continuing to eat. Peters excused himself to grab another bottle of beer, and Mack helped himself to another serving of what Tadashi had cooked. The American returned, and he and Mack started talking about what the latter was watching when they had arrived. Tadashi tapped Aether lightly.

“…you are okay with this, right? I know Peters and Mack aren’t the heart-to-heart types, but even they wanted to help you with it.” Aether nodded.

“I think I am. To be honest…I probably do need this kind of thing. The apartment feels like a reminder,” she admitted, and he understood her perfectly.

“Got it. Finish up,” he pulled an arm around her to give her a hug to which she relaxed into, “And then we can really start.” Across the table, Mack shot her a small smile of his own. 

“You're with us,” the curly-haired male assured, “We promise that this'll be worth it.”