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Trinity has had a hell of a day.
Fifteen hours of it. And when life’s a bitch, she fucking commits - right to the end.
Dr. Al-Hashimi has been on her ass all day about her charting.
Then the cyberattack hit. Then the water park accident.
Chaos, start to finish.
And she hasn’t done a single chart.
Not one.
She really thought she might get away with it, with the system down and all - but of course, of-fucking-course, it comes back online right as she’s about to leave.
So here she is. Ten p.m. Locked in an old supply room with a laptop older than half the staff, while the night shift moves on with their lives.
Charting.
What the hell has her life become?
Trinity stares at the screen, then down at her notes.
“What the fuck does that say?”
Her handwriting has always been shit. Tonight it’s a crime scene. She’s been stuck on chart two for twenty minutes, trying to figure out what the hell she meant earlier. Her eyes burn, her neck aches, and there’s a pounding headache settling in behind her temples.
Trinity really thought she was past this - that era of her life where she hated herself.
Tonight may be the comeback.
Fun-fucking-tastic.
Trinity rubs her eyes as a sight escapes her lips “I need a coffee"
The chair screeches as she stands. The room smells like cardboard and disinfectant, boxes stacked everywhere. In the corner sits the sad excuse for a desk she’s been stuck at. Across from it, the mustard-yellow couch that should’ve been thrown out years ago.
The ER bright lights blind her as Trinity steps out of her makeshift charting room for the night. The ER seems - calm. Nothing compared to the chaos and movement of this morning. Trinity is kind of jealous.
Fireworks crackle faintly outside. Her stomach drops. Garcia. The invite. The no. Trinity exhales and keeps walking, passing Shen and Ellis working a trauma before heading into the break room. She stops dead on her feet.
There’s someone on the couch - laying with their back to the door.
“Crash!?” The figure on the couch - Victoria - jerks awake with a yell then immediately falls off the couch with a loud thud and a pained groan. Trinity winces - that looked painful-. ”
““Ouch - what the hell, Santos?!” Victoria snaps, glaring up at her.
Trinity raises an eyebrow. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Look what you did,” Victoria shoots back, pushing herself up a little too fast and wincing for it. She doesn’t meet Trinity’s eyes for long.
Oh. That’s new.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Princess,” Trinity drawls, moving past her toward the counter. “Did I interrupt your beauty sleep?”
“Yes-I mean, no. I wasn't sleeping”
“Sure, you weren’t.” Trinity pours herself a cup of coffee, ignoring the slight shake in her hand, and takes a sip. It tastes like shit. She drinks it anyway. “You didn’t answer my question,” she says, glancing over at Victoria.
Because people don’t just crash on that couch.
Not unless something’s wrong.
Victoria stays quiet for a second too long. That’s all it takes. Trinity sighs, already tired of whatever this is. “You gonna use your words, or are we just doing the dramatic silence thing tonight?”
“I’m fine,” Victoria mutters.
“Yeah,” Trinity snorts. “You look great. Real picture of stability.”
Victoria shoots her a look - sharp, defensive - but it doesn’t have the usual bite. It flickers out too fast.
Trinity notices.
Of course she does.
She leans back against the counter, coffee in hand, studying her now. “You’re off shift.”
“Observant.”
“And yet you’re here. On that couch.” Trinity nods toward it. “Voluntarily. Which is concerning on multiple levels.”
Victoria exhales, dragging a hand down her face. “I just needed five minutes.”
“Uh-huh.” Trinity takes another sip. “And your apartment burned down, or…?”
“Can you not?” Victoria snaps, a little too quick. There it is.
Trinity stills slightly. Not backing off - but adjusting. “Ooookay,” she says, quieter now. “So not five minutes.”
Victoria laughs under her breath, but there’s nothing amused about it. She pushes herself up fully this time, sitting on the edge of the couch. Her posture’s tight. Closed off. “Rough day,” she says.
“Join the fucking club.” Trinity says as she raises her cup.
Victoria shakes her head. “No, I mean - ” She cuts herself off, jaw tightening. “Forget it.”
Trinity watches her for a moment, then sighs again, setting the coffee down beside her. “Crash,” she says, less bite, more intent. “What happened?”
Victoria doesn’t answer right away. Her gaze drops to the floor, fingers picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. That’s really not like her.
When she finally speaks, her voice is quieter. “I screwed up.”
“Define ‘screwed up.’” Trinity’s expression doesn’t change but something behind it sharpens.
Victoria lets out a shaky breath.
“A patient earlier. The charting was wrong and I missed something. When I noticed” She swallows. “It was too late.”
Silence. The kind that lands heavy. Trinity straightens slightly. “And?”
“They’re fine,” Victoria says quickly. “They’re - someone else stepped in, we got them back, it’s -” She swallows. “It’s fine.” But she doesn’t sound like she believes that.
Trinity studies her for a long second. “That doesn’t explain why you’re here,” she says. “Complications happen all the time in this job. Today’s not special.” She pauses, watching her. “You know that.”
“ I don’t wanna go home.” she says finally, quiet enough it almost doesn’t carry.
And there it is.
Mommy issues - who doesn't have them, huh?
Trinity exhales softly through her nose, something in her expression shifting - just a fraction.
“Why?”
Victoria shrugs, too quick. “Just don’t feel like it.”
Trinity stares at her. “Try again.”
“I’m tired.”
“Wow,” Trinity deadpans. “Groundbreaking. We’re all tired.”
Victoria’s jaw tightens. “Can you just drop it?”
“No.”
The word lands flat. Final.
Victoria looks up at her “Why do you care?” irritation flashing on her face.
Trinity shrugs “I don’t.” But her eyes stay locked on her.
“Then stop -”
“But,” Trinity cuts in, “you’re sitting on that disgusting couch, looking like you’re about five seconds away from either crying or punching a wall, and I’d really rather not deal with either tonight.”
Victoria scoffs, “I’m not gonna cry.” She says, looking away.
“Good,” Trinity says. “That’d be awkward for both of us.”
Silence stretches. Victoria crosses her arms, defensive, retreating. “I just needed a minute. That’s it.”
“Bullshit.”
Victoria’s head snaps back toward her. “Excuse me?”
“You don’t do ‘a minute,’” Trinity says, pushing off the counter slightly. “You do avoidance. Badly.”
“That’s not - ”
“You screwed something up,” Trinity continues, talking over her. “It rattled you. Now you don’t wanna go home.” She tilts her head. “Which means whatever’s waiting there is worse than what happened here.” Victoria goes very still. Got it.
Trinity watches her, quieter now. “So. Again.” A beat. “Why?”
This time, Victoria doesn’t answer right away. Her shoulders drop - just a fraction. Trinity takes a slow sip of her coffee, letting the silence stretch. Letting Victoria squirm a little. “You know what,” Trinity says finally, setting the cup down, “forget it. Don’t tell me.” Victoria blinks, a little off guard. Trinity shrugs casually, like she doesn’t care. “Not my business anyway.” That’s a lie, but she doesn’t admit it.
She pushes off the counter and glances toward the hallway. “But,” she adds, without looking back, “if you’re just gonna sit there, brooding, you might as well make yourself useful.”
Victoria frowns. “What?”
“I’ve got a hundred charts to finish before Al-Hashimi decides to personally end my career,” Trinity says dryly. “And I can’t read half of what I wrote. Fresh eyes or whatever”
“Sounds like a you problem.” Victoria snorts.
“It is,” Trinity agrees, already starting to walk toward the supply room. “Congratulations, you’ve identified the issue.” A beat. Then, more casually than it should be - almost teasing - she adds, “Make yourself useful, Crash”
Victoria freezes. “You’re serious?”
“Afraid so,” Trinity calls back over her shoulder. “This isn’t optional. You’re suffering through it with me, Crash. ”
A pause.
Footsteps.
She doesn’t turn around. Just keeps walking, slow enough for Victoria to follow - or not. “You coming, or are you bonding with that couch for the rest of the night?” Trinity calls over her shoulder.
There’s a quiet scoff. Then a shuffle. Good enough.
By the time Trinity pushes the supply room door open, Victoria is trailing behind, glancing at the cramped space filled with boxes and the old laptop. “This is depressing,” Victoria mutters.
“Yeah,” Trinity says, sliding into her chair and setting the coffee down. “Welcome to my personal hell.”
She nudges one of the handwritten charts toward Victoria. “Go on, then. Tell me what the hell I wrote before I lose what’s left of my sanity.”
Victoria hesitates. Doesn’t speak. Just picks up the paper, eyes narrowing at the scribbles.
Trinity leans back, smirking faintly. “Quiet type tonight? That’s fine. Actions speak louder than words.”
Victoria glances up, expression unreadable. Not talking. Not leaving. Victoria squints at the first chart, tilting the paper this way and that.
Trinity watches her over the rim of her coffee cup.
“Yeah… no. I can’t read that either,” Victoria mutters after a moment, flipping the page.
“I’ll take that as solidarity,” Trinity says dryly, scrolling through the laptop. “I was starting to worry I was the only one who thought chicken scratch could qualify as a sentence.”
Victoria snorts, despite herself, but it’s quick - defensive. Trinity points at a line. “Here. That one. What the hell did I mean by ‘pt stable’? I wrote it, but - it looks like a chicken walked across the page.”
Victoria leans in, eyebrows knitting together. She traces the letters with a finger. “Honestly… no clue. Maybe you meant ‘patient stable’? But this ‘p-s-t-a-b-l’ - what even is that?”
“Exactly,” Trinity says, throwing her hands up. “I need a translator. And apparently, you’re it tonight.”
Victoria looks up at her, expression flat but her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Translator, huh? Is that the official title?”
“Absolutely,” Trinity says, smirking. “You get a badge and everything. Try not to blow your paycheck all at once.”
Victoria rolls her eyes but leans closer to the next chart. Trinity notices the way her hands hover over the paper, tentative but deliberate.
You know,” Trinity says, almost offhand, “you could leave whenever you want.” Victoria doesn’t answer. She just keeps working - not quickly, not flawlessly, but steady. Present.
Trinity leans back and takes a slow sip of coffee, watching. “You’re stubborn,” she says finally.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Victoria replies, without looking up.
Trinity smirks faintly. ““Fair. I’ll give you this - you're the first person tonight who hasn’t made me consider committing a felony.”
Victoria glances up. “You say that like it’s a compliment.”
Maybe it is,” Trinity says with a shrug. “Or maybe my standards have just dropped that low tonight.”
Victoria allows herself a small, humorless laugh. Trinity catches it and doesn’t comment. Not yet.
They settle into a rhythm - Victoria deciphering the handwriting, Trinity typing it into the system. No words, just the soft scratch of pen on paper, clicks of keys, and the occasional low muttered comment.
And for the first time tonight, Trinity isn’t thinking about chaos, charts, or fireworks. She’s just - noticing.
The small shifts.
The way Victoria sits up straighter when she gets a line right.
The way her eyes narrow in concentration.
Trinity leans back in her chair, watching Victoria trace the letters with her finger. “You know,” she says casually, “for someone who claims they just ‘needed a minute,’ you’re really committed to suffering tonight.”
Victoria doesn’t respond, just mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like “shut up.”
“Mm-hmm,” Trinity says, tilting her head. “Not even a hint of gratitude. I’m hurt.”
Victoria glances up, eyes narrowing, but doesn’t say anything. Trinity smirks at the flicker of irritation she catches.
“Relax, Crash,” she adds, leaning forward. “I’m not judging you. Much. Just keeping track of my one and only assistant - you’re supposed to be helping me, not glaring holes into the page.”
Victoria lets out a short, sharp laugh this time - defensive, a little forced. Trinity doesn’t miss it.
“That laugh sounds suspicious,” Trinity says, one brow lifting. “Careful - keep that up and I might think you’re not completely miserable here.”
Victoria freezes for a fraction of a second, then looks down at the chart. Her fingers tighten around the paper, and for just a beat, Trinity sees it - a flicker, a crack in her armor. “Or maybe I just have superior handwriting interpretation skills,” Victoria mutters, eyes still on the chart.
“Superior?” Trinity repeats, smirking. “Sure, that checks out. Makes me feel even better about my legendary failure at reading chicken scratch. Thanks for that.”
Victoria finally looks up, corner of her mouth twitching. Trinity catches it. Victory. Small, fleeting, but it’s there.
Trinity leans back again, sipping her coffee slowly. “You know,” she says, voice low, “you didn’t have to follow me in here. You could’ve gone home, sulked in peace, and no one would’ve judged you. But you didn’t.”
Victoria doesn’t answer. Her shoulders are tense, but she’s still there, still working.
“Just thought I’d point it out,” Trinity continues, too casual to sound serious, though she is. “You’re really bad at avoiding responsibility.”
Victoria snorts softly, shaking her head.
Trinity smirks at that, then nods toward the next page. “Fine. Let’s see if your ‘superior skills’ can make sense of this chicken scratch.” Trinity nudges another chart toward Victoria. “Here,” she says, dragging it closer across the desk. “This one’s a masterpiece. You might need a microscope - or maybe a decoder ring.”
Victoria leans over, closer this time, and Trinity notices the faint stiffness in her posture relax, just a hair. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at Trinity, but the subtle shift is enough.
Trinity smiles faintly to herself. Not much. Not enough to give away that she cares.
“Careful,” Trinity says lightly, tilting her head. “One wrong move, and this could get dangerous. You might accidentally read something correctly.”
Victoria glances up, expression flat but eyes sharp, then looks back at the chart. Trinity smirks. The way she leans in just enough - annoying, precise - sends a little thrill down Trinity’s spine.
“You’re awfully quiet for someone supposedly helping me,” Trinity says. Her voice is casual, but there’s a playful edge. “I’d make a joke about it, but I don’t want to distract you from all this brilliance.”
Victoria huffs, fingers pausing on the paper. “Shut up. I haven’t even started my commentary yet.”
Trinity leans back in her chair, coffee in hand, smirking. “See? You’re already outpacing me. That’s unfair. I could get used to having an assistant - if you ever felt like making it permanent.”
Victoria doesn’t respond, eyes glued to the chart.
“You’re impressively efficient,” Trinity adds finally, her voice softer now, casual on the surface but carrying an edge that lingers in the air. Victoria shivers slightly at the comment, just enough to make Trinity smile faintly.
The night stretches on.
Charts pile up.
The room smells like old cardboard, coffee, and faint disinfectant.
Fingers scratch across paper, keys click, and neither speaks more than they have to.
But Trinity notices everything.
The way Victoria leans just a little too close when deciphering a particularly bad scribble. The way her shoulders relax ever so slightly when she finally gets it right.
By the time they hit chart twenty-something, the room has gone completely silent except for the occasional scratching of a pen and clicking of keys.
Trinity rubs her eyes and lets out a long, low groan. “Okay,” she says, voice rough. “That’s it. I can’t anymore. I’m done.”
Victoria glances up from the paper she’s deciphering, eyebrows slightly raised. “You’re giving up?”
Trinity tosses her pen onto the desk. “Not giving up. Just re-strategizing. My sanity is begging me for mercy.”
Victoria shakes her head, a small, humorless laugh escaping her. “I think my sanity left hours ago.”
Trinity smirks, standing and stretching. “Well, we’re both losers tonight then. How about we take this fight to higher ground?” She gestures vaguely toward the stairwell. “Roof. Fresh air. Less chicken scratch.”
Victoria pauses, considering it, then slowly pushes back from the desk. “The roof?”
“Yes. The roof,” Trinity says, too casual to sound serious. “Trust me. The charts will survive without us for ten minutes.”
Victoria lets out a quiet sigh but follows her. The hallways are empty, fluorescent lights flickering softly overhead. Their footsteps echo as they climb the stairwell. Trinity lets herself walk a little slower, glancing back. Victoria matches her pace.
When they finally step onto the roof, the cool night air hits them like a wave. The city stretches below, muted and glowing under streetlights. Far off, faint fireworks crackle in the distance, the lingering scent of smoke carried by the breeze.
Trinity leans against the low wall, eyes closed for a moment. “Much better,” she murmurs. Then, opening one eye, she glances at Victoria. “See? This beats staring at my horrible handwriting.”
Victoria leans against the wall nearby, arms crossed, watching the city lights. “I guess it’s - nice out here,” she admits softly, voice low enough that Trinity almost doesn’t hear it.
Trinity smirks, taking a slow sip of her cold coffee. “Nice? Yeah. Quiet? Definitely. Safe from Dr. Al-Hashimi? Absolutely.”
Victoria smirks faintly at that, a small spark of humor breaking through. Trinity notices it.
“You know,” Trinity says, voice low, almost teasing, “we could stay out here forever. Charts aren’t going anywhere. Nobody’s coming to drag us back down.”
Victoria shrugs, leaning just a little closer. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t consider it.”
Trinity lets a quiet laugh escape. “Good. Me neither.”
They stand there for a long moment, side by side, the city below, the fireworks distant but bright. No charts. No deadlines. Just - this.
Whatever this was.
Trinity would be lying if this is how she imagined her night ending.
She expected fireworks.
Maybe some ramen in bed.
Sex.
Instead, she was on the roof. With Victoria Javadi of all people.
And - Trinity wasn’t sure if she’d run out if Yolanda were to call her and tell her to come over - she was actually having fun.
Trinity glanced over. Victoria’s profile greeted her, sharp and calm against the city lights. Trinity wondered if she knew how beautiful she was. Not just physically, but wholly. Beautiful. With her genius brain, her sharp humor - everything.
Trinity’s lips twitched in a small, almost imperceptible smile. She swallowed, shaking her head slightly at herself. What the hell am I doing?
Victoria shifted slightly, the faint rustle of her jacket the only sound against the distant hum of the city. Trinity watched the movement, taking in the line of her jaw, the curve of her neck
She doesn’t even know, Trinity thought, how completely distracting she is.
“Hey, Crash,” Trinity said, breaking the silence. Victoria’s wide brown eyes immediately met hers. Trinity swallowed again, unsure of where she was going with this - her mouth had just kind of taken over for a moment. “Thank you.”
“For what?” Victoria asked, surprise flickering across her face.
“For the charts. The company. Tonight.” Trinity waved her hands vaguely. “I really needed that. So, thanks.” She shrugged, trying to look casual.
“Oh, well, in that case.” Victoria turned fully toward her, finally letting Trinity have her complete attention. “Thank you. I’m kind of glad you were so behind on your charts.” Victoria laughed at Trinity’s affronted expression. “If you hadn’t been - well, I would’ve spent the Fourth of July brooding on a terrible couch in the ER break room.”
Trinity smirked at Victoria’s joke, but her chest tightened a little, and she found herself stepping just a fraction closer. The night air was cool, but suddenly it felt warmer, charged. Victoria shifted too, almost imperceptibly, and Trinity caught the slight brush of her arm against hers. Nothing dramatic. Just a touch.
And somehow, it made Trinity’s pulse skip.
“You know,” Trinity said lightly, tilting her head, “if you keep laughing at me like that, I might have to defend my pride.”
Victoria’s eyes flicked up, sharp, but there was a faint softness behind them that hadn’t been there earlier. “Oh, really?” she said, voice low, almost teasing.
“Absolutely,” Trinity replied, leaning back slightly against the wall, just enough to close the distance without saying it outright. “I’m very protective of my ego.”
Victoria smirked faintly, a small tilt of her head. “I can see that.”.Their shoulders brushed again, closer this time. Trinity didn’t move away.
She didn’t want to.
“Careful,” Trinity murmured, more to herself than to Victoria. “You’re dangerously distracting.”
Victoria’s eyes flicked toward her, just for a second, before returning to the city lights. But Trinity saw it - the small, subtle shift, the tiniest intake of breath, the way she leaned just slightly toward her without realizing it.
“Oh - I - Uhm, Thanks.” Victoria responded, awkwardly, words stumbling out.
“And also, incredibly awkward,” Trinity pointed out, unimpressed. “Full package, huh, Crash?” She wiggled her eyebrows teasingly.
“Shut up,” Victoria murmured, pushing Trinity lightly. A small blush spread across her cheeks.
“I can see you blushing, Crash.”
“Fuck off.”
A quiet silence settled between them after Trinity’s laughter died down.
Fireworks still popped in the distance, distant bursts of light against the night sky.
Trinity glanced at Victoria. The tension that had lingered all night was finally easing, replaced by something lighter, almost comfortable. She smiled faintly to herself.
“So… what’s up with you and your mom?” Trinity asked, finally giving voice to the question that had been on her lips all night.
“What’s up with you and Dr. Garcia?” Victoria shot back instantly, without missing a beat.
“Damn. Okay. Touché,” Trinity admitted, raising her hands in mock surrender.
She stared out at the city lights for a moment. The distant fireworks painted the sky in brief flashes, but she barely noticed. “You know,” she began quietly, her voice softer than it had been all night, “I didn’t really want to go home either.”
Victoria’s head tilted slightly, curious, but she stayed silent, giving Trinity space to continue.
Trinity let out a low sigh. “Whitaker has agreed to house-sit for Dr. Robby tonight, so - I’d be alone.”
Victoria’s brow lifted, silent.
“ Yeah, don't ask.” Trinity’s voice softened further. “I - don’t do well with silence. Loneliness. It creeps in. Makes everything feel louder than it is. Tonight - I just didn’t want that.” A pause stretched between them. The kind of silence that isn’t uncomfortable - just heavy with meaning.
Trinity stared out at the lights, at the distant glow of the fireworks, and felt her chest unclench slightly, just from saying it aloud.
Victoria didn’t answer right away. She just leaned a little closer, subtle but deliberate. Finally, her voice broke the quiet night.
“I didn’t want to face my mom today,” she admitted, fragile, almost swallowed by the night. “It’s… been tough, lately. She expects so much from me.” Her mouth trembled; a shaky sigh escaped her. “I feel like I’m drowning. She has it all planned out for me… my whole future. Wants me to go into surgery - just like her. Wants me to be perfect - just like her.” She stared into Trinity’s eyes, ignoring the tears threatening to fall. “ She has all these expectations and I feel like I can never be enough.”
Trinity took a slow breath, letting Victoria’s words hang in the night air. She shifted slightly closer, careful not to crowd her, but close enough that Victoria would feel the warmth of her presence.
“You’re enough,” Trinity said quietly, steady, her voice soft but unwavering. “More than enough, actually. Not because of what you do, or what anyone expects of you, but just… you. Right now. Here.”
Victoria’s eyes flicked down, and Trinity noticed the tiniest tremor in her hands. She didn’t say anything else, just stayed there, letting the quiet stretch between them like a shield, letting Victoria know she wasn’t alone.
Trinity continued softly, “People can have their plans. Their expectations. But they’re not you. They don’t get to decide how much you’re worth. That’s yours. Always yours.”
“It doesn’t feel like it. Most of the time. “Victoria swallowed, a shaky breath escaping her. Trinity reached out just enough to brush her hand lightly against Victoria’s sleeve, a small, grounding gesture. Victoria’s eyes flicked up, meeting hers, unspoken gratitude and relief reflected in that glance.
“You’re not alone,” Trinity murmured. “Not tonight. Not in this moment. Not as long as I’m here.”
Victoria’s shoulders relaxed fractionally, the tension in her jaw softening just a hair. For the first time all night, she let herself exhale - a quiet surrender to the shared space, to the rooftop, to Trinity.
“And, Crash?” Trinity prompted softly. Victoria’s only response was a faint hum, then, finally, a small, defiant smile. “Fuck your mom,” she muttered. Trinity grinned, proud, and couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her at Victoria’s shocked expression. “I’m serious. You’re gonna be a goddamn doctor one day - the one you choose to be. I’m sure of it.”
Victoria let out a short, incredulous laugh, shaking her head. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”
“Not when it matters,” Trinity replied, leaning a little closer against the wall, just enough that their shoulders nearly brushed. The slight contact made her pulse skip, but she didn’t move away. Didn’t want to.
Victoria glanced down at the faint touch, then back at Trinity, eyes wide for a second before her usual guarded expression returned - just a little softer this time. “Yeah, well… thanks,” Victoria said quietly, almost under her breath. “For, you know, not letting me sit there and brood alone.”
Trinity smirked, tilting her head. “That’s what friends - or partners-in-deciphering-charts - are for.” She let her voice drop slightly, teasing but warm. “Besides, I’d miss all this fun if I didn’t stick around to witness your ‘superior skills’ in action.”
Victoria’s lips twitched, maybe a smile, maybe something more restrained. Trinity caught it.
She always caught it.
The briefest brush of tension lingered between them - electric, unspoken, promising.
Trinity leaned a little closer still, just enough to feel the heat from Victoria’s arm near hers. “You know,” she murmured, voice low and casual, “Tonight, has been nothing like how I imagined it. But - I’m glad, it was you by my side, today. ”
Victoria’s eyes flicked to her, startled, then softened in a way that made Trinity’s chest tighten. She didn’t move away either. The city below, the distant fireworks, the quiet hum of July night - it all faded into the space between them.
Trinity shifted just a fraction closer, the small movement deliberate enough that the warmth from Victoria’s arm pressed a little more firmly against hers. Victoria didn’t pull away. She didn’t flinch. Instead, she let the contact linger, her fingers brushing Trinity’s almost imperceptibly as if testing the waters.
Trinity’s pulse quickened. She leaned ever so slightly, careful not to overstep, letting her shoulder just barely graze Victoria’s. The quiet hum of the city and the distant fireworks seemed to shrink around them, leaving only the space between their bodies charged with possibility.
“You really are ridiculously distracting,” Trinity murmured, low, casual, but with a teasing edge that sent a thrill down her spine.
Victoria’s breath hitched, a soft, sharp intake that betrayed her calm exterior. Her eyes flicked up to meet Trinity’s, then quickly dropped, but she stayed still, allowing the proximity, the brush of heat, the tension that crackled quietly between them.
Trinity’s lips twitched into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. She leaned just a little closer again, the faintest whisper away from Victoria. “Careful,” she murmured, more to herself than to Victoria. “I might forget how to be subtle.”
They stayed that way for a long moment. Neither speaking, neither moving, just letting the quiet stretch, the distant fireworks punctuating the night sky like a heartbeat. Trinity’s mind wandered briefly - not to charts, not to the chaos of the day, not to the house she was supposed to go home to - but to Victoria.
Every detail: the line of her jaw, the curve of her neck, the way her eyes softened when they looked at her.
Finally, Victoria turned her head slightly to look at her, brow raised. “Do you always get this close to people?” she asked, voice quieter now, curious but wary.
Trinity chuckled, low and smooth.“Not usually,” Trinity admitted, letting her smirk fade into something softer, more vulnerable. “ You haven’t pushed me away, though.”
“I-I don’t think I want to,” Victoria murmured.
“You think?” Trinity teases. Easing the tension in the air.
Victoria rolled her eyes and pushed her gently “See,” she said, grabbing Trinity’s arm to steady her. “Now you’ve made me push you away. See where that smartass attitude gets you?”
Trinity stumbled just slightly under the push, then steadied herself, letting Victoria’s hand linger on her arm a beat longer than necessary. She raised an eyebrow, smirk tugging at her lips. “Oh, so now it’s my fault you can’t resist making contact?”
Victoria’s cheeks warmed, a faint blush creeping across her skin. “Shut up,” she muttered, trying to look stern, but failing. Her fingers lingered for just a second too long before she let go.
Trinity chuckled softly, leaning just a fraction closer, enough that their shoulders brushed. “See?” she murmured, voice low, teasing, but with just a hint of warmth. “That push? Totally worth it.”
Victoria’s eyes flicked to hers - sharp, playful, and a little uncertain all at once. “You’re impossible,” she said quietly.
“And yet, here you are,” Trinity replied, smirking, letting the quiet tension stretch, filling the rooftop space. “Not pushing me entirely away. Not yet, anyway.”
Victoria let out a short, breathless laugh, shaking her head, but she stayed close, letting Trinity’s shoulder graze hers again. Trinity’s pulse spiked, the warmth and subtle contact sending a thrill through her chest. “You really know how to push people’s buttons,” Victoria said, voice low, teasing back, but there was something fragile underneath it.
Trinity’s smirk softened into a quiet smile. “Only the ones worth it.”
The night stretched out around them, quiet except for the city and the fading fireworks, and for the first time in hours, maybe days, both of them just - breathed.
Trinity let out a soft, almost imperceptible laugh. “You know - I think we might make a decent team,” she said, teasing but soft, letting her shoulder nudge Victoria’s lightly.
Victoria’s laugh came then, short, genuine, warm. “We’ll see,” she said, but her eyes sparkled and for the first time that night, Trinity didn’t care about the charts.
The chaos.
The noise of the world.
Yolanda.
It was just them, quiet and close, and maybe - just maybe - that was exactly how it was supposed to end.