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Ema hadn’t anticipated how bittersweet leaving Criminal Affairs would actually be. It only hits her after she finishes moving into her new office- a perk of being a forensic scientist- that she may miss being a detective. While Ema’s ecstatic to never be called ‘Detective Skye’ again, the loss of the department’s unmistakable sense of quiet camaraderie is palpable. More specifically, Ema knows she’ll miss just being able to turn around and see Kay, who had regularly badgered Detective Gumshoe to place her desk next to Ema’s just so they could always be together.
Kay, who had willingly helped to unpack all of Ema’s stuff, has now placed a framed photo of them on Ema’s desk, next to the picture of Lana and her. It had been taken fairly recently when Ema had finally qualified as a forensic scientist- she had been too scared to open the envelope until Kay had practically forced her to at the precinct. When Ema had announced her results to her expectant colleagues, Kay had tightly wrapped her arms around Ema, causing her to drop the letter so Ema could clutch onto Kay’s arms instead, laughing. Back then, Ema hadn’t noticed someone taking a photo of them, both of them too overjoyed to notice anything else- in fact, as she picks it up, she’s confident that this is the first time she’s even seen the photograph.
“Kay, do you know who took this photo?” Ema asks, genuinely curious as she hands the photo to Kay.
“Gummy took it,” Kay replies. She smiles when she takes it from Ema, a softer smile than usual, it’s something much more personal, more… fond. “When he gave it to me, I knew it would be the perfect office-warming gift.”
“Office-warming?”
Kay seemingly doesn’t hear her as she rambles, “I know it isn’t anything that big, or fancy, or expensive, or-”
“I love it,” Ema declares, plucking it from Kay’s hands and returning it to its designated spot. “A reminder of the only good thing about Criminal Affairs.”
“Other than your Snackoo drawer?” Kay jokes like she hadn’t transferred it to the office with Ema. Beaming, Kay drags an ‘amused and failing to hide it’ Ema to her new office couch, where she produces a bottle of rosé and two cheap plastic wine glasses from her bag.
“Kay-” Ema half-heartedly warns, knowing she won’t refuse the rosé that Kay is now generously pouring.
“Hey, nothing wrong with one celebratory glass of rosé,” Kay grins, expectantly raising her glass.
“Just one glass?” Ema teases as she clinks her glass against Kay’s before raising it to her lips. It always started with one drink. When Kay had brought vodka and multi-coloured shot glasses during their first week as detectives after Ema had a particularly exhausting case. Or when Ema insisted they drank cheap prosecco on the anniversary of the murder of Kay’s dad. A simple late-night drink after a rough day never stopped at one glass; instead, they only stopped until they were both too drunk to remember why they had decided to drink in the first place- giggling like there was nothing funnier than just being drunk.
“Unfortunately, it is only going to be one glass,” Kay says with a slight sigh. “I have to go close up a case with Klav.”
“I didn’t know you were working on a case with Gavin,” Ema responds, with a slight sense of bitter envy that she can’t spend the rest of the afternoon drinking and laughing with Kay. It’s not a pleasant feeling.
“Another murder case, of course, but it was a pretty standard one; he managed to wrap up the trial before I came here. Actually, that reminds me-” Kay cuts herself off, clearly recalling something else. She hastily puts her glass down and rummages in her bag to pull out a magazine. “You have to see this!”
Kay snickers as she hands it over to Ema, delighted by the front-page article she’s pointing out to Ema. Ema was expecting to see an article about the murder; instead, it’s a pretty standard tabloid, the type of thing that Ema would only pick up if she was bored enough to crave celebrity gossip. The headline forcefully demands an answer to its question: ‘Is Klavier Gavin Re-entering the Dating Scene?’ It’s accompanied by a slightly blurry picture of Klavier and Kay walking- probably to the previously mentioned crime scene- together with their arms linked and their faces relatively close as they talked. While Ema doesn’t think it’s necessarily front-page material, she can see how it made tabloid news- they’d make an attractive couple.
“I worked with Klavier for months, and not once did I get papped. But you work from once, and you’re his ‘mystery girlfriend’,” Ema snorts as she skims the article. It’s almost odd how out of everyone Klavier has ever worked with, Kay’s the one he’s accused of dating; it’s just too absurd. “I feel cheated out of my 15 minutes of fame.”
“More like 5 seconds of fame," Kay boldly determines, “I’ll see you later, yeah?”
Ema affirmatively hums as Kay reaches over to hug Ema. It’s far too brief, and Ema doesn’t even have time to react before Kay pulls away. Selfishly, she wants to reach out and hold Kay; she wants to keep her here, away from dating accusations and money-grabbing tabloids wrapped in the safety of eachother. Instead, she just watches, sprawled on the couch, as Kay gathers up her belongings as she leaves.
“Looking forward to seeing more from ‘Klavier Gavin’s mystery girlfriend,” Ema suddenly calls out as Kay walks out the door, a pathetic attempt to cover up the growing pit in her stomach as she looks at Kay’s half-finished wine glass. A feeling of unease begins to spread through her.
Kay dismissively waves her hand with a laugh as if suggesting it was impossible that by tomorrow, they’d drop the Klavier Gavin dating rumours and move on to another celebrity and their love life.
Ema wishes Kay had been right.
By the next day, any thought of the tabloid is hidden in the obscured back corners of Ema’s mind. It's not intentional but she's preoccupied, working on a forensics report for Blackquill, who had insisted on having everything in the crime scene fingerprinted- not that Ema’s complaining, now that she finds some satisfaction from her job. Although her hour-long, traffic-filled journey to the prosecutor’s office brutally reminds her why she doesn't do this for free.
Knocking, she tries to wait for a response, but her patience has already run out, and she barrels into the office, a miniature hurricane of frustration and exhaustion. For his part, Simon doesn’t even bother to look up from his computer as he informs her, “you’re late, Skye-dono.” As if she didn’t notice.
“Traffic,” Ema bluntly states, not in the mood to expand further. As she drops her report on Simon’s desk, quickly glancing at his monitor, she exclaims, “are you on Twitter ?”
“Hmph, what about it?” Simon huffs, tearing his eyes away from his computer and deciding to concentrate on the painting behind Ema. It doesn’t take a genius to realise he’s embarrassed. So, of course, Ema has to lean in to take a closer look at his screen.
“#klavgavnewgf? Wow, I think I just lost any respect I had for you.”
“I’m simply just keeping up with the intricate personal lives of my co-workers, Skye-dono. It’s important to maintain a tactical advantage at all times.”
Ema is about to snarkily (and accurately) accuse Simon of being a gossip, but before she does, it hits her that Simon said ‘co-workers’ not ‘co-worker’, and that familiar feeling of unease from yesterday returns in her gut… far more intense than before. “Simon, please tell me it’s not Kay.” She feels a bit nauseous as she says it.
That’s what it takes for Simon to finally look at her, or more accurately, to look under her, trying to find something. Trapped under his gaze, Ema feels the full force of his scrutiny, but she’s not sure why it’s there. It’s like being a mouse who's been caught by a big hungry cat. Although this cat seems hungry for knowledge, Ema has a distinct feeling that to Simon, she’s simply prey. After several uncomfortably long minutes, Simon cautiously asks, “did you not see the article?”
“Of course, I did,” Ema snaps defensively. Rubbing her arm self-consciously, she mumbles, “I just sort of forgot. But you know what, I’ve had a busy morning and-”
“I do not care for your excuses, Skye-dono,” Simon cuts her off, raising his hand as if that’ll stop her from talking. Ema glares at his palm as if trying to burn a hole through it. She’s trying and failing to match how Simon had looked at her before. Simon ignores Ema’s evident distress and continues to speak, “There is no reason for you to be so worried. They’re simply some fan’s photographs of them at a cafe. Nothing incriminating.”
At that, Simon tilts his monitor towards Ema so she can look at the tweet. The tweet itself is pretty useless (omg can’t believe i saw klav and his new gf. i need to know who she is asap #klavgavnewgf,) but they’re good photos. In all of them, Kay has been caught mid-laugh, her mouth stretched impossibly wide- she’s vibrant, her vitality tangible even when frozen. But Ema’s favourite has to be the one where Kay has laughed so hard that coffee has sprayed out of her nose. Only Kay could be caught with coffee pouring out her nose and still somehow look good. Ema wishes she had been the one to make Kay laugh like that.
“What if they find out who she is?” Ema suddenly asks, worried for Kay… and her safety. “Gavin’s fans are crazy. You don’t know what they’ll do to her.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Simon scoffs. “How could they possibly find out.”
“We’re talking about the same Gavinners fans who hacked airport security cameras just so they could look at Klavier, Daryan… and whoever the others are.”
Simon doesn’t even dignify her concern with a remark; he just raises a singular eyebrow in judgement. Ema isn’t sure if she’s being judged for being anxious or knowing too much about the Gavinners (which isn’t even her fault. You pick up fan trivia after working with Klavier Gavin for years).
However, Simon does turn the monitor further towards Ema, a silent invitation to scroll through the hashtag with him. Squatting, Ema absent-mindedly gazes at the tweets, still thinking about Kay- still worrying about Kay. She doesn’t realise how long it’s been until her thighs start to lightly burn, and she has to get up.
Stretching, she remarks, “so basically half the fans think they’re soulmates, and the other half is sure that that half is crazy because ‘have you seen the way Klavier acts with Apollo’- which isn’t necessarily untrue, but Apollo only made the tabloids because he's Klavier's 'rival' not-”
“You’re jealous,” Simon states bluntly as if that’s a fact and not just an opinion. Ema hates how he’s phrased it as a statement instead of the question it should be.
“What, like I want to date Klavier Gavin?” Ema scoffs even though she knows that wasn’t what Simon was talking about. His stare is getting more intense, more discerning, and Ema feels defenceless against it. Ema feels caught- predator eats prey.
“We both know that’s not what I’m talking about, Skye-dono.”
“Look,” Ema sighs, deflated. “There’s no reason for me to be jealous. Come on, the whole concept of them having a relationship is impossible. I know Kay well enough to know that relationship would never happen.”
“It doesn’t need to be possible for you to be jealous,” Simon says calmly, leaning back on his chair. Ema hates when he goes all psychological. She knows there’s no real point fighting back. Simon has a weakness for ‘interpersonal drama between co-workers’, and this may just be his jackpot.
“I know what you’re trying to suggest and-”
“And what?” Simon cuts her off, not bothering to entertain anything Ema might say to deflect. “Are you going to lie and say you don’t have feelings for Faraday-dono?”
His frankness takes Ema aback. Ema considers herself a woman of science, a believer in evidence and data, so she had never tried to deny having fallen for Kay. How could she, when it seemed inevitable? She spent practically every day since she returned from Europe with Kay; Kay had seen her at her lowest moments, and Ema was the first person Kay had let herself open up to; Kay was the first person Ema called for the good and bad news. Kay was the only constant in her life. Kay was her centre of gravity; Ema couldn’t imagine a life without her.
Sinking into the chair facing Simon’s desk, Ema lets out a sigh of defeat. “We both know there’s no point in me lying. You’re ridiculously perceptive, and I hate you for it.”
Simon smirks, small and satisfied. It doesn’t irritate Ema as much as it should. Putting out her feelings for the first time isn’t the relief she thought it would be, perhaps due to her own awareness. Instead, it’s validating to know her feelings aren’t irrational- to know she isn’t an awful person for falling for her closest friend.
“So, what should I do about it?” Ema asks, more sincere than she’s ever allowed herself to be with Simon. Ema wasn’t someone who talked openly about herself; she kept her cards close to her chest, not allowing anyone to get a total picture of her. It’s something she shares with Simon, who prefers to be seen as an enigma. That’s what formed the basis of her relationship with Simon. Beneath the cutting comments and shared sarcasm, there’s an underlying trust, just one they never spoke about. This was the closest either of them had ever gotten to an acknowledgement.
“I’m not here to act as your counsellor. I’m too busy to deal with your nonsense.” Simon brusquely replies. “Bother Faraday-dono, not me.”
Tilting her head back, Ema groans. She’s well acquainted with Simon’s cryptic way of giving advice, knowing exactly what he’s telling her to do. It’s just the one thing she can't bring herself to do; to look into Kay’s eyes and offer her final piece, to allow Kay to fully see her in a way Ema isn’t sure Kay will like.
“Have I mentioned how much I hate you?” Ema quips, preparing to leave and go back to work.
“Copiously,” Simon responds. He pauses for a second, carefully thinking through what he wants to say before continuing, “this is a sufficient report Skye-dono. Keep up the good work.”
Ema sniggers, knowing he hadn’t even touched the report yet. “Thank you for your invaluable support Simon. You’re an angel.”
She particularly enjoys the face he makes after she says that.
For all her previous fatalism, Ema is still shocked when three days after that tabloid article, someone posts a Twitter thread detailing how they’ve managed to figure out the identity of Klavier Gavin's 'girlfriend'. Ema sends it to Kay before bothering to read it. A small guilty part of her is happy that she was right, but all the other parts are screaming with fear for her friend… and something else she doesn’t want to accept.
Ema waits for Kay’s reply for hours, but it doesn’t come. Logically, she knows that not only is Kay a terrible texter, but she’s also been increasingly busy these days since Criminal Affairs is woefully understaffed. Still, logic can’t stop her stomach from twisting itself into a series of knots.
As time passes, Ema’s fears gradually transform into anger. She rapidly finds herself furious at Klavier, who had seemingly sat back and hadn't done anything about that tabloid article or all the photos, or about everyone finding out who Kay is. He’s a celebrity, Ema thinks, frustrated. He should be able to save Kay from all this media nonsense. So in a fit of irrationality, Ema calls Klavier, looking for an output for her emotional distress.
“Hallo?” Klavier picks up his phone quickly, as is typical of him. Ema finds herself annoyed at his predictability and then annoyed at herself for getting upset about it in the first place. Her thoughts and emotions are scattered.
“Gavin, we need to talk.”
Klavier instantly noticed something was wrong as he began to ask, “is everything-
“Drinks, your place, 7 pm.” Ema cuts him off before hanging up. She didn’t want to answer his question or try to explain herself especially when she didn’t know what she was feeling or what she was doing. All Ema knew was she needed to pull herself together because she had to talk to Klavier for Kay’s sake.
Drinks had first become a thing between Klavier and Ema when she had found him at a bar a few days after that final trial with Kristoph. Ema had caught sight of him through a window; he had been obviously drunk, slumped on the bar. It had happened at a time when Ema was no longer sure how to feel about Klavier. After Kristoph’s initial incarceration, the blind hatred she had carefully cultivated no longer worked. Initially, it had been easy to hate Klavier for his role in Mr Wright’s disbarment and his flashy facade, as well as to dismiss any moments of humanity where she could possibly feel sympathy as abnormalities. The arrest changed that. All the moments of stress, sadness, and fear from before became a constant that he could no longer hide as skillfully as before, and Ema began to see the authentic Klavier Gavin- she began to understand him.
Seeing him at that bar was a catalyst. Where previously, Ema would’ve unceremoniously dumped him at his place, she sat next to him and ordered herself a drink. When she looked at him, she didn’t recognise the same ‘glimmerous fop’ who had once annoyed her. Instead, she saw flashes of the Klavier Gavin, who had slowly begun to deteriorate these last few months, Klavier who, after months of hiding and deflecting, had reached his breaking point.
When Klavier finally spoke and cautiously opened up, Ema felt a growing affinity with him as she listened to a man, not a celebrity. After a handful of drinks, Ema (in her tipsy and on the verge of being properly drunk stage) gave him bits and pieces about herself. That night, the frosty barrier Ema had constructed between them for years began to melt.
When Ema had woken up on Klavier’s bedroom floor, having passed out at his place after they had taken a taxi from the bar, her head was throbbing, and her mouth was unbearably dry. Still, Ema felt a tentative sense of contentment blossom as she looked at Klavier, who had also slept on the floor, and thought to herself, we could be friends.
After both of them had made an effort to curb their matching hangovers, they had been enveloped in awkward silence at the breakfast bar, unable to recover the effortless repertoire from the previous night.
That was until Ema had weakly joked, “never thought I’d ever enjoy drinks with you.” Klavier had burst into excessive laughter, considering how poor her joke was. But Ema realised he had understood what she was really trying to say- that he understood she was extending an olive branch and he was accepting it.
From then on, ‘drinks’ no longer referred to actually drinking. At first, it was used as a gag to lighten the mood after either of them opened up. Usually, a poor joke about how awkward the ‘drinks’ had become to make the other person laugh, which it always did. But eventually, that turned into a signal to ask for helpful advice. Klavier tended to use it more than Ema, who preferred to ask Kay for advice before anyone else. While Klavier asked for ‘drinks’ weekly, Ema could count the number of times she had used it on only one hand.
By doing this, Ema conceded to herself that she wasn’t entirely angry at Klavier, that Ema was dealing with something new and unfamiliar, something she couldn’t confront alone. And that scared her more than she’d like to admit.
She stands outside Klavier’s door for minutes that feel like hours, waiting for it to be precisely 7 pm as if that would change anything. Ema isn't entirely sure what she was trying to achieve by arranging this. She had had this romanticised notion of confronting Klavier about not adequately protecting Kay and magically solving everything. But, even at the peak of her fury, Ema knew it wasn’t Klavier’s fault his fans thought he was dating Kay. Now that her anger had slightly subsided, she felt a bit sheepish standing at his door. Having prepared to pointlessly yell, now she had nothing.
When she rang the doorbell, all thoughts of ‘drinks’ and her possible reasons for calling it were at the back of her mind. Her brain goes completely blank when Klavier greets her and leads her to the sitting room where they had once passed out. She feels robotic, unsure of where to start.
It takes Klavier, gesturing for Ema to sit that snaps something into place for Ema. Turning on her heel to face Klavier, she begins, “Why didn’t you do anything to help Kay?” Klavier is taken aback, shocked and maybe even upset. But now that Ema's started she doesn't think she can stop, so she continues, “I mean, you’re a celebrity; you have to be able to do something. Now all these random people know who Kay is- and they think she’s dating you- and who knows how they’ll treat her- and-”
Then Ema breaks into a messy flood of shaky tears, unable to say anymore. She passively lets Klavier guide her to a chair and get her a glass of water. Klavier doesn’t attempt to speak to her as Ema continues to cry, only taking short gasping breaths to drink water. She appreciates it.
When Ema finally begins to calm down, Klavier tells her, “I was going to put a statement out, but Kay didn’t want me to.”
“What?” Ema exclaims in shock, not entirely sure if she heard him correctly.
“She asked me not to,” Klavier repeats slower, like he isn’t quite sure what to say, likely concerned about Ema crying more. “She said it would be pointless, and it’d all die out soon.”
“I-I don’t get it,” Ema admits, pulling up her knees to rest her head on it, curling into herself. “Why wouldn’t she, you know, do something.”
“It didn’t bother her,” Klavier shrugs. Hearing about Kay’s indifference in the face of her own disquiet brings back that wave of shame Ema had felt earlier standing at Klavier’s door. She tucks her knees in tighter as if to hide. “Kay told me there’d be no real point in acknowledging it since she didn’t care about strangers’ opinions of her, and it’d just encourage the rumours. Do you think she’d be interested in replacing my manager?”
Ema recognises Klavier’s trying to make her crack a smile, but she continues to stare at her feet instead. Without her anger- without having someone to blame- she feels lost, unsure of herself and wondering what the point of staying would be. So hesitantly, she says, “I think I should go?”
“Come to the kitchen with me,” Klavier instructs, standing up from where he had been sitting next to Ema. He isn’t forceful; nevertheless, Ema is compelled to get up. Blindly following him with no real purpose. “We haven’t had drinks yet.”
Too tired to protest, Ema silently lets Klavier make them both cups of hot chocolate. She had assumed, and hoped, for actual drinks or at the very least some coffee to make her feel like less of a zombie. But she can’t complain when Klavier presses a steaming hot mug into her hands, topped with excessive whipped cream, marshmallows and cinnamon sticks. Drinking it, she claims, “let it never be said that Klavier Gavin does things in halves.”
“Because Klavier Gavin never disappoints, ja?” Klavier beams, undoubtedly proud of himself. Ema rolls her eyes, restraining herself from elbowing him to protect her hot chocolate. Propping herself onto a counter, she feels more appreciative than she can put into words.
“I don’t know why I care so much,” Ema quietly admits, peering into her mug. It’s her way of telling Klavier she’s willing to talk to him, and it carries her silent gratitude. Like that night at the bar, it’s her turn to be vulnerable, to give up parts of herself without receiving anything in return. “Like, don’t get wrong, I know I like Kay- I mean, you probably know it too because, of course, you would- but there’s no reason for me to care.”
“Because there’s no chance of Kay ever dating me,” Klavier finishes her thought for her. “Only slightly more likely than the two of us dating.”
“I don’t know,” Ema begins with a wicked smirk. “Maybe I could benefit from it.”
“You wouldn’t be the first to try,” Klavier wrily responds, clearly thinking about a specific occasion, but Ema doesn't want to press.
“But I’d do it the best,” Ema confidently determines before she pauses, returning to her original thought. “You know, aesthetically speaking, the two of you would look good together.”
Klavier seems confused, unable to instantly respond; he starts, “I guess? But-”
“And Kay has so much energy,” Ema bulldozes through him, not entirely paying attention to his protests. “ I can’t match that; look at me,” she gestures at herself as if to suggest her listlessness was evident from her appearance. “But you can! You’re Klavier Gavin. ”
“Ema-”
“Shit,” Ema suddenly mutters, cutting off Klavier and her spiralling thought process, a revelation coming over her. “Simon was right.”
“Um, about what?” Klavier asks softly, clearly cautious of being interrupted for the third time in quick succession.
“Me being jealous of you or whatever,” Ema mumbles, praying that Klavier can’t make out what she’s saying.
Unfortunately, he can, and he looks all too pleased with himself as he echoes what she just said, “ You being jealous of me?”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t sound so happy about it,” Ema rebukes, her face flushing. “It’s not like I’m jealous of you as a person, just jealous of what you could give to Kay that I… couldn’t.”
There’s a sense of sobriety to her statement that forces them to pause on it. Klavier clearly isn’t sure what to say, so Ema continues, “it’s not like I’m calling you perfect or anything; we both know that’s not true. It’s just you offer so much more than I ever could.”
That’s what it takes for Klavier to become affronted on her behalf. “You’re not being fair to yourself!”
“Come on,” Ema laughs bitterly. “You’re talking to ‘fraulein apathetic mess’ who was a lousy detective.”
“You were doing a job you hated with someone you couldn’t stand-” Ema feels like she should protest out of principle, but it's not like Klavier's feelings are particularly hurt- “and even ignoring all that, you’ve already gone through so much.”
“But so have you!” Ema practically shouts. Her hands are ever-so-slightly shaking, clutched around her half-drunk mug. “And Kay! Your lives haven’t been easy either, but you’re both so much better than me.”
Sighing, Klavier puts down his mug- that he’s someone already managed to finish- and sits down next to Ema. Softly, he tells her, “you know just as well as I do that isn’t true.”
“Do I, though?”
“You’ve seen me at my worse, Ema, and we both know that wasn’t pretty. I wasn’t exactly Klavier Gavin, superstar musician,” He jokes, recalling how much of a pitiful drunk he had been, and then how irritating he had been when hungover.
“More like Klavier Gavin, actual human being,” Ema remarks, prompting Klavier to smile at her.
“And I know you’ve been with Kay through her low points just like she has with you,” Klavier continues, and Ema thinks back to all the times she’s held Kay as she cried, one of the few people who has seen Kay cry.
“So, you’re saying I have a chance with Kay because I’ve seen her sob a few times,” Ema questions sceptically, purposefully avoiding the real connotation behind Klavier’s words.
“I’m saying that none of us are perfect; we all deal with our issues differently,” Klavier corrects. “You’re not less worthy of Kay because you’re apathetic, and she isn’t, or you don’t give enough back to her, or whatever other stupid reasons you might come up with. You’re a team; you work well together- you’re both good for eachother.”
“I-I don’t think you’re entirely wrong,” Ema admits, much to her annoyance. It doesn’t help that Klavier looks unbelievably smug as she says it. “But what does that change? It’s not like that’ll magically make her want to date me.”
“Hypothetically, if she didn’t like you back. How bad would it be?”
“Are you kidding?” Ema looks at Klavier like he’s suddenly grown a second head. “She’d stop talking to me- I’d lose her. I couldn’t handle that.”
“You think Kay Faraday would stop talking to her oldest and closest friend because of your feelings for her?” Klavier asks her like she’s an idiot. Although, Ema does feel a bit foolish hearing Klavier put it like that.
“No,” Ema sighs in defeat, even putting down her mug to throw up her hands in mock surrender. “As painful as it is for me to admit it, you’re right.”
“Which means you have to confess to her now,” Klavier delightedly declares, clapping his hands together. Ema swears she can see stars in his eyes as he gushes about her fictitious confession.
“No, I won’t do it,” Ema replies, sounding slightly petulant. “There's no point. Anyways, you're being a bit of a hypocrite considering you haven't done anything about Apollo yet.”
Ema takes a lot of joy from watching the tips of Klavier’s ears go scarlet red as he attempts to defend himself. “That’s completely different; our friendship is completely different to yours.”
“Please, it’s basically pot calling the kettle-”
“No one else has a connection as strong and intense as yours, It's something entirely different” Klavier counters, and Ema has a sinking suspicion that the tables have been turned against her again.
She can’t really dispute it. She had met Kay when they were two lonely teenage girls too weird and traumatised to make friends until they met eachother- until they found someone else who just understood it. There's was a relationship defined by their mutual codependency and an acute sense of trust and affection. Kay was the sun in Ema’s solar system; a life without her would be frigid and listless- it wouldn’t be a life worth living.
She knew how odd it sounded to be so devoted to someone as if they were a deity to be worshipped. But at least she has a feeling it isn’t entirely one-sided. She remembers when Kay had been offered a job at Interpol and had rejected it. No one understood why- not even Ema. It was the perfect job for someone as skilled and innovative as Kay, but she still hadn’t accepted it. A few days later, when the two of them were eating dinner together in their shared apartment, Kay had faintly admitted that she couldn’t accept a job where she wasn’t near her home, looking directly at Ema. Ema had had the distinct sense that Kay was talking about the life they had cultivated… together. Klavier was right. Even if it wasn’t romantic on Kay’s part, their relationship was something rare and invaluable- they were both devoted to each other and their friendship.
“I’m going to talk to Kay,” Ema abruptly declares out loud to force herself to actually do it. Klavier’s smile is so big that Ema is convinced he cares more about it than her. That thought keeps her heart from leaping out of her mouth and into her palms. Although, with the way her heart is beating, it might just drill a hole out of her ribcage anyways.
Looking at how ecstatic Klavier is, strikes Ema. She feels unbelievably appreciative of all his help and care. “Don’t tell anyone I said this,” Ema begins, managing to smile despite her growing nausea. “But thank you. This has meant a lot to me.”
Ema knows how stilted she sounded, but Klavier’s brilliant smile has somehow managed to grow more. So in a rare moment of affection, Ema pulls him into a tight hug and jokingly whispers in his ear, “you also better not tell anyone about this.”
“Of course not,” Klavier promises when they pull apart, crossing his heart for extra measure. “I do value my life.” And Ema knows he’s understood how grateful Ema is.
Jumping off the counter, Ema informs him, “if this goes terribly, you owe me lots of hot chocolate.”
“I’ll give you a bucket full of hot chocolate if it goes well,” Klavier counters, causing Ema to roll her eyes as obviously as possible just so Klavier knows how much she disagrees. “Oh, go away, fraulein pessimism.”
Cackling at the way in which Klavier shoos her out of the kitchen, Ema lets herself out of his place. Checking her phone, she notices that Kay’s responded to her text from the morning ‘haha, this thread is actually pretty impressive. we should hire these guys in criminal affairs. they’d be great.’
Earlier, Ema would’ve probably begged Kay to care more, to be more worried. But now she replies, bet they’d fix the backlog asap, and I’d get more Kay time. It’s a win-win. Then, as an afterthought, she adds, can we talk when I’m home, nothing terrible, I promise. Kay reads it but doesn’t respond.
With how busy Kay’s been lately, Ema almost forgot they lived together. She would leave early in the morning when Ema was only just rubbing the drowsiness out of her eyes and slink into the home late in the night when Ema had long since fallen asleep. So, Ema is honestly surprised to see Kay in the living room as she walks into their apartment. Her hair is loose and tangled, and Ema can see her dark eyebags even from a distance. But the artificial backlight makes her look ethereal causing the lumps in Ema’s throat to expand.
“Honey, I’m home,” Ema declares as she closes the door. It had become a habit for both of them to say it when entering their place, even when they knew the other wasn’t there, but now it just increases the ever-growing apprehension threatening to burst out of Ema.
Kay waves from where she’s sitting and beckons Ema to sit next to her. At first, they don’t say anything, stewing in silence, until Kay asks, “are you sure nothing’s wrong? Because I promise I can handle bad news.”
“No, no, no, of course not,” Ema quickly tells her, shaking her hands to emphasise her point. “It’s not bad news… I hope.”
“Not exactly reassuring,” Kay chuckles, but she stays silent, waiting for Ema to speak. It does nothing to calm her nerves.
Staring into the gap between Kay’s eyebrows to avoid her gaze, Ema says, “I like you in a romantic, non-platonic way, and that’s why I’ve been so weird about this whole Klavier-thing, and I’m so so sorry for not telling you earlier.”
Kay doesn’t say anything. Her silence feels incriminating, and Ema feels like she’s back on the witness stand again; so she nervously continues, “I totally understand if you don’t feel the same way, but can we still be friends because-”
“Why ?” Kay’s sudden broken-sounding question cuts her off and throws Ema off guard.
“Huh?” Ema's utterly unsure of what to do.
“Just... why?” Kay repeats as if somehow that makes it make more sense than the first time she said it. She looks as confused as Ema feels, and her usually bright eyes are darkened with an imperceptible sadness. “Why would someone like you fall for me.”
It’s as if she’s taken Ema’s fragile heart and dropped it, leaving it in shatters. When thinking about how fatal this confession could be, Ema had considered rejection, heartbreak and Kay never speaking to her again. But nothing could prepare her for the melancholy of Kay’s words and her dejected posture. Somehow this hurts more than any of the other options.
“I know I’m too much,” Kay continues, speeding up as she frantically goes through her flaws. “And I must annoy you so much, God knows why you still put up with me- and I’m so loud- and-”
“Kay, stop,” Ema suddenly says, commandingly, having finally regained her voice. “You’re being ridiculous.”
Kay opens her mouth, likely to try and defend her opinion, but Ema doesn’t let her. “You have so much passion and energy like no one else does. For me, a life without you is like a world without colour, a cold, dark, muted life. You mean so much to me, how could I not fall for you?”
“Even though I’m so… me.”
“You’re one of the best people I know, Kay,” Ema tells her earnestly. “You’re there for me constantly, no matter what, you always know exactly what to say to make me feel better, and you give such good hugs you’ve made me actually like that.”
That makes Kay laugh. It’s weak, but at least all her previous anguish begins to slowly roll off her. “I never really thought you could feel the same. I know this sounds stupid but you're like my past, present, and future.”
“I-Is this your way of saying you also like me,” Ema asks cautiously. Although she feels something warm and bright grow inside her at Kay's words, after her initial reaction, she’s not taking anything at face value.
“Yeah,” she says, softer than Ema knew was possible for her. “Although, I’ve done a pretty rubbish job considering how I just reacted”
“No kidding,” Ema beams. She tries to maintain some semblance of faux annoyance, but she’s too excited, having one of the most important people in her life want her as well. All she can do is happily stare at Kay before reaching out to hug her.
“You know my reaction is kind of your fault,” Kay flippantly mutters into Ema’s ears. “You can't just go around randomly confessing to people, especially when they already planned the perfect confession.”
“Mhm,” Ema hums in disbelief, too comfortable in Kay’s embrace to bother looking at her face.
“Firstly, I’d do this whole speech fully telling you how much I like you. Then I’d ask you to be my girlfriend. And finally, we’d make out. Isn't it perfect?”
“I do love a three-step plan,” Ema admits. Her mouth was beginning to feel sore from all the smiling, but she can't even bring herself to be upset about it, she doesn't recall ever feeling this happy. “Under such favourable terms, I think I’d have to accept.”
“And look, this couch looks perfect for making out. It’s practically three for three,” Kay grins as she drags Ema onto the couch just like she had at Ema’s office all those days ago.
“Wait,” Kay suddenly exclaims from where she’s straddling Ema on their couch, having just remembered something. “You were upset about the whole Klavier thing?”
Ema instantly averts her eyes as she mumbles, “I may have been slightly jealous of Klavier, and I may have just come back from Klavier’s because I was upset and wanted to talk to him about it, and I may have started our conversation by basically yelling at him.”
“No way,” Kay exclaims, clearly amused.
“I’ll trade you the story for a kiss?” Ema sneakily asks, tugging Kay down towards her by the collar of her shirt.
“Do you think we need to thank whoever wrote the tabloid article now?” Kay wonders aloud, not verbally answering Ema’s question. Instead, she leans impossibly closer so that Ema can feel her breath fan against her lips. Her eyes are so close that Ema swears she can see flecks of gold.
“Oh, shut up,” Ema tells her before finally pulling her into a long-expected and well-deserved kiss.
Eventually, the rumours are put to rest when Kay un-privates her Instagram so the world can see the selfie she just posted. In it, Kay has jokingly placed her finger on her lips as Ema sleeps with her mouth slightly ajar on the bed behind Kay. Kay has teasingly captioned it, ‘don’t cha wish your girlfriend could snore like mine.’ Ema loves it.