Within the spaces

Episode 24

The rhythmic snip of scissors filled the air as Faye worked, her hands steady despite the storm in her mind. The salon's familiar scent of shampoo and hairspray provided a comforting backdrop as she finally voiced the thoughts that had been haunting her.

"She said she loves me, Pam," Faye said quietly, focusing intently on the haircut she was giving. The afternoon sun streamed through the salon's large windows, casting warm patches on the black-and-white tiled floor. "Just... said it. Like it was the most natural thing in the world."

Pam, who was working on a client two chairs down, caught Faye's eye in the mirror. "And that's... bad?" she asked carefully, knowing her friend's tendency to run from anything resembling emotional intimacy.

Faye's scissors paused mid-snip. "We work together. Every day. If this goes wrong..." She trailed off, resuming her work with perhaps more concentration than necessary. "Besides, you know how I am. Yoko, she's... she's different. She deserves someone whole."

"P'Faye," Pam set down her comb, turning to face Faye directly. "You need to stop acting like you're some kind of damaged goods. We all have our baggage."

The salon's ambient noise filled the pause-the whir of hair dryers, casual chatter, the tinkling bell above the door as customers came and went. It was easier here, Faye thought, to talk about these things. The routine of work provided a shield, a distraction.

"But what if-" Faye began, then lowered her voice as her client shifted slightly. "What if she sees the real me? Not the person everyone thinks I am, but... me. The mess. The silence. The emptiness inside..."

"Have you considered," Pam interrupted gently, "that maybe she already sees more than you think? That woman's been watching you with those soft eyes for months now."

Faye's hands trembled slightly as she reached for her spray bottle. "That's what scares me. Working together makes it worse. If it falls apart, I'll have to see her every day, watching everything crumble, watching her realize that I'm not-"

"Think it through," Pam said, returning to her own client's hair. "Really think it through. But P'Faye?" She waited until her friend looked up. "Don't think yourself out of happiness just because you're scared. Sometimes the risks are worth taking. Also, don't sleep with her until you are ready. That would give her some hope and you don't look ready to face that."

Faye's breath hitched. She went completely silent. She knew Pam was right. And she knew it was too late for that.

The afternoon continued, and Faye let the familiar motions of her work distract her. Cut, style, smile, repeat. But Pam's words echoed in her mind, mixing with memories of Yoko's confession-the way her voice had trembled slightly, the hopeful look in her eyes, the gentle way she'd said, "I love you," as if she'd been holding those words in for ages. She should have thought it through before doing all those things last night. And in the morning, exposing herself like that did not do her any good either.

The key turned in the lock, echoing through the empty hallway. Faye stepped inside, her cheerful facade crumbling the moment the door clicked shut behind her. The walls of her house-too big, too quiet-seemed to loom over her, watching as she slid down against the door, finally letting the tears fall.

Tonight was particularly hard. The weight of her loneliness pressed against her chest like a physical thing, making it difficult to breathe. She thought of all the smiles she'd given today, the flirtatious comments, the light-hearted jokes. A performance, all of it. A carefully crafted mask she wore to keep others at arm's length while simultaneously soaking up any fraction of affection they offered.

Her thoughts drifted to Yoko. Sweet, understanding Yoko, who looked at her with such genuine warmth that it terrified her. Faye pulled her knees to her chest, her tears falling faster now. She couldn't risk it-couldn't risk letting Yoko see the broken pieces she'd spent years hiding. Everyone she'd ever loved had left, one way or another, leaving holes in her heart that never quite healed.

The house creaked, its empty rooms a reminder of all the conversations that never happened within these walls. Some days, Faye realized, she didn't speak at all. The silence would stretch from morning until night, her voice unused except for the occasional sigh or sob. These rooms had become both her sanctuary and her prison, protecting her from vulnerability while trapping her in her own solitude.

Outside these walls, she was different. She was the Faye everyone loved-bright, flirtatious, full of life. She treasured every smile directed her way, every kind word, every gentle touch. They were precious gems she collected, holding them close during nights like these when the darkness felt overwhelming.

But the truth remained buried deep: she was just a sad soul trying to survive each day, convinced she didn't deserve real love. The fear of someone seeing through her carefully constructed exterior paralyzed her. If they knew-if anyone knew-how could they possibly look at her the same way again?

Standing up, Faye wiped her tears with trembling hands. Her reflection in the hallway mirror showed a woman she barely recognized anymore. Behind her, the empty house seemed to whisper all her fears back to her, echoing the conviction that this was safer-being alone was safer than risking her heart again.

Even if it meant crying herself to sleep in a house that felt more like a tomb than a home.

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A/N: Now that I'm settled into my new place, hopefully, I'll have more time to write.

Anyway, yeah... so Faye is a mess. Who would've thought? (Not me, not in this fiction. Yet here we are.) Turns out, feelings are a thing.

P.S. I'm on Twitter, where I post absolute nonsense that no one reads. But hey, we could follow each other if you want (you don't have to). It's @anonymous_mandu.