It was already late, the city lights dim and flickering through the windows of Ruin's cramped apartment. She slouched at the small, cluttered desk she called her workspace, staring blankly at the never-ending stream of reports and spreadsheets on her laptop. Her head throbbed, a dull ache brought on by exhaustion and the whiskey still lingering in her system.
She rubbed her eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh. She needed to get back to work, but her mind kept drifting. She wasn't thinking about her deadlines or the paperwork piling up—no, she was thinking about Marceline.
It had been a week since their conversation at the bar, and Ruin found herself returning night after night, even if she barely exchanged more than a few words with the bartender. Marceline's presence was... magnetic. The way she carried herself—cool, confident, but not arrogant. The way her dull blue eyes seemed to see right through Ruin, as if understanding her in ways she didn't even understand herself.
Ruin's thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of her phone. It was a message from a coworker reminding her about another deadline, but instead of replying, she turned off the screen, staring at her reflection in the black mirror of the phone's glass. She looked as tired as she felt. Brown hair in disarray, dark circles under her eyes, and her wolf ears pressed flat against her head in silent frustration.
She couldn't focus. Not on work. Not on anything.
"Why am I like this?" Ruin whispered to herself. She glanced at the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the desk, tempted to pour another drink to drown the creeping anxiety. But before she could reach for it, her phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't work. It was a text from an unknown number.
Marceline: You coming by tonight?
Ruin's heart skipped a beat. She hadn't given her number to Marceline, but she must have somehow gotten it from the bar's system or maybe even a regular. A brief moment of panic surged through her—did she seem too desperate? Too weird? Why was Marceline even bothering with her?
She hesitated, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Ruin: Yeah, I'll be there.
She pressed send before she could second-guess herself.
The bar was quieter tonight, less crowded, with only a few regulars sitting at the far end, nursing their drinks. The familiar sound of glasses clinking and the soft hum of conversation filled the space. Ruin pushed through the door, her nerves already frayed from the day.
As always, Marceline was behind the counter, her dark cherry-red hair pulled back loosely. When her dull blue eyes met Ruin's, a small smile tugged at her lips. There was a knowing look in her gaze, one that made Ruin feel both comforted and completely exposed.
"You made it," Marceline said as Ruin slid into her usual seat at the bar. "Rough day?"
Ruin nodded, fidgeting with the sleeves of her jacket. "Yeah. They're all rough, though." She tried to smile, but it came out weak and unconvincing.
Marceline leaned over the bar, her arms folded as she studied Ruin closely. "You don't look like you've been sleeping."
Ruin flinched at the directness of the comment, her wolf ears flattening against her head. She had been trying to hide how bad things had gotten, but Marceline saw through her as usual. "I haven't, really. Work's been... a lot." Her voice trailed off, embarrassed by how pathetic it sounded.
Marceline didn't push further. Instead, she poured a drink and slid it over. "On the house," she said, her tone softer than usual. "Something lighter tonight."
Ruin took the glass, grateful for the gesture. It wasn't the whiskey she was used to, but the warmth that spread through her chest was still comforting. "Thanks," she muttered, glancing up at Marceline with a shy smile.
For a few moments, they sat in comfortable silence, Marceline tending to the bar while Ruin sipped her drink. The dim lighting and the quiet atmosphere felt... safe, like a bubble where the rest of the world couldn't touch her. She didn't have to think about work, or her anxiety, or the bottle of pills stashed away in her bag.
"You know," Marceline said after a while, her voice cutting through the quiet, "I meant what I said the other day. You don't have to keep doing this to yourself."
Ruin blinked, caught off guard by the sudden seriousness in Marceline's voice. "What do you mean?"
Marceline leaned in slightly, her blue eyes locking with Ruin's. "You're burning yourself out, Ruin. Between the work, the drinking, whatever else you're doing..." Her gaze flicked down to the faint trembling of Ruin's hands. "It's not healthy."
Ruin swallowed hard, her throat tightening. She didn't like talking about this—about the fact that she couldn't handle her life, that she needed crutches to get through the day. "I... I don't know how to stop," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's like... everything's too much."
Marceline was silent for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she reached across the bar and gently touched Ruin's hand, her fingers cool against the warmth of Ruin's skin. "You don't have to figure it out alone."
Ruin's breath hitched at the touch. She wasn't used to people offering help, or being this close to someone who genuinely seemed to care. Her heart raced, a mix of fear and something she couldn't quite place. "Why do you even care?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm... I'm a mess."
Marceline tilted her head, her expression softening. "Maybe I see something in you that's worth caring about."
Ruin's face flushed, her ears twitching in embarrassment. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. She wasn't used to this kind of attention—this kind of kindness. And she didn't know how to handle it.
Marceline pulled back slightly, giving Ruin space to breathe. "Look, I'm not saying I have all the answers. But if you ever need to talk... or just be around someone who doesn't expect anything from you, you know where to find me."
Ruin stared at her, a thousand emotions swirling in her chest. She wasn't sure how to feel. She was scared—scared of letting someone in, scared of what they'd see. But there was also a flicker of hope, small and fragile, that maybe... just maybe... things didn't have to stay the way they were.
"Thanks," Ruin whispered, her voice hoarse. "I... I'll think about it."
Marceline smiled, a quiet understanding passing between them. "Take your time. I'll be here."
As Ruin sat in the quiet comfort of the bar, with Marceline's steady presence nearby, for the first time in a long while, she didn't feel so alone.
