Curiosity kills the cat, supposedly (Slight angst/ fluff) [Request]

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Short summary : Mariella and The Curator have lived in the same house for a few years now and after overhearing a conversation The Curator had over the phone, Mariella questions how much the Curator actually likes her.

( I really don't know what the headcannons are for Mariella and the Curator but I think I'm going to try and go off feeling.

I'm going to split this into two parts because it ended up so long that I'm worried people will forget where they were.
Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this longer story.)

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"A lovely morning, isn't it, Mariella? The house definitely feels a lot more comfortable today."

Mariella glanced up to look at the Curator, just having brought out her own breakfast from the kitchen. They'd been living together for a few years now. More specifically 2 years and 7 months- it was spring now. The feather light sunshine gleamed through half opened blinds and the air was just cold enough to bring along a chill.

"Mhm!" Mariella hummed, swallowing down a mouthful toast, "I tidied the place up earlier this morning and dusted off the shelves- I'm glad you noticed whilst it would've all been for nothing!"

"I do have to thank you for your work, Mariella. There's certainly a difference in how airy and fresh the place feels now."

Mariella beamed. She hoped that the Curator couldn't see the light tint on her cheeks from just these simple words -  it couldn't be helped afterall. Every single thing the Curator said, every praise and every smile, made Mariella's skin burn and her stomach flutter. This woman was a beacon for her : one she would be excited to see every time she woke up, one which made her want to do anything just to receive a smile and a thanks.

That morning went by, chatting in the filtered light coming through the blinds, slowly enjoying their time in eachother's presence.
Mariella would have stayed in that moment for the rest of her life if she could. The Curator's soft and composed aura calmed Mariella's nerves and racing thoughts, gave her a sense of true happiness. Soon, she had found herself effortlessly smiling whenever the Curator was near.

Time came when Mariella's work shift caught up to her and plates were cleaned and placed onto the drying rack. This was just another day she would need to get over with.

The distant sound of the Curator's voice could be heard as Mariella opened the front door, muffled by the walls yet still creeping through.

"I really can't tell with her. God knows what's going on in that head of hers. Yes.. I know.  Mm. I do but.. it is extremely frustrating."

'Her?' Were they talking about Mariella? What was there to say?
She knew that eavesdropping wasn't a good idea but who would know? It wouldn't have been the first time she'd done to either..
(This sounded like tea, a spill of the beans even. - I really wanted to just say this)

Mariella knew a guy that would ask about her sometimes. He'd come over for meals multiple times and would wave whenever they saw eachother. Apparently, the Curator had known him for years now.

"I really hate it but I suppose it can't be helped. No, no, I could never. She's just the same as she's ever been."

Mariella stood just outside the closed office door, coat still on, bag still in hand.
Her breath felt more rapid than it had been ; her chest a little tighter.
If this really was that guy, what were they talking about? Of course, this could have just been a workmate, someone the Curator talked with more closely.
She was clearly complaining about someone.

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