just a breath removed from going to waste

don't wanna let the pieces fall out of place

Andy

"Maya...Maya Rose!!" I call.

Heeding no response, I walk towards my best friend's room in the quite spacious apartment that we share. I press my ear up to the door of her bedroom to see if I can decipher anything that might be going on with the mysterious Maya Rose. Although I live and work with her, she is so incredibly closed off. I can tell that something has been up with her lately, though, and I'll be damned if I don't find out why. 

"Maya! Mai!!" I call again. 

I try my best to listen through the door and I notice a small, muffled sniffling sound coming from the far side of her room. I rap my knuckles against her door, to serve as a warning more than anything, because I'm sure she's heard me by now, and I enter her room. 

I'm quite surprised by the sight I enter to. Maya is huddled in the corner of her room, fully cocooned in her comforter, tear-sodden hair plastered to her red and puffy face. There are almost silent tears streaming down her face in rivulets. I'm immediately taken aback. Maya Bishop, disheveled?

Something really must be wrong.

"Hey... Maya..." I coo as I slowly move towards her and crouch down to her level.

"Hey, babe..." I say.

"What's wrong?"

I'm becoming more concerned by the second.

"Maya, babe, look at me," I try, but I'm just met with sobs.

Her body starts shaking and she attempts to cocoon herself further into her lavender and white patterned blanket, but to no avail.

I pull her freezing hands out from under the blanket and hold on to them tightly, knowing that her body needs steady pressure right now.

"Hey, Mai, please tell me what's wrong," I practically beg.

"I-- I'm fine," she manages to say through hitched breaths, indignant.

She roughly pulls her hands out of my grasp and tries desperately to wipe away the tears streaming down her face with the back of her hands as I say, "Maya, you're clearly not fine. Look at you, you're disheveled! In ruins. There has to be something going on."

"There's nothing going on," Maya replies, her tone quickly becoming steely.

"You haven't been yourself lately, Maya. C'mon, I'm your best friend, you have to give me some sort of credit here," I say softly.

"I said, I'm fine!" Maya repeats.

"You know, the more you say that, the less I believe you," I retort.

"That's not funny, Andy," Maya says, her voice now laced with venom.

"But it's true though, isn't it? The more you say you're fine, the more it kills you inside to hold in your pain," I reply.

"You can share your pain with me, Mai. Lord knows I've shared mine with you," I continue.

"Andy..." Maya sighs. "I'm okay, honestly."

But I can tell she's not. She's obviously not.

Why won't she just open up to me?

"Okay, Mai. I'll leave you alone then," I tell her, although reluctantly. 

I'm hesitant to leave her alone.

I run my hands through my messy hair and stand up, when I hear Maya reply.

"Good," she mumbles under her breath, clearly holding in some sort of deeply repressed anger.

"Just text me if you need anything. I'll keep my phone on," I tell her as I shuffle out of her room and close the door gently.

I sit down on our couch as I'm left dumbfounded. What the hell did I just witness?

Fire lieutenant Maya Bishop, steely facade, hard ass, take-no-shit, Maya Bishop in complete and utter emotional distress.

She's, without a doubt, the strongest and most perseverant person I know. Nothing seems to get to her. Absolutely nothing. I've seen her deal with casualties and devastating infernos like a pro, like they're nothing.

So, whatever this is, it must be exceptionally terrible.