Somewhat Clear

“So, what happened this time?” Arun asks, carefullylining up the tools on the top of the table, and glancing up at Giglio.

She blinks at them, tosses her red hair over her shoulder and lays her hands in front of Arun so they can start removing the polish from her nails. “What do you mean?” she asks with a frown.

“You take appointments on friday every other month, except when you just dumped someone, which turns your mani into saturday business. So. What happened this time? I’m surprised you haven’t started bitching about it already,” Arun points out, gesturing with a cotton ball, before soaking it up in acetone. “I usually know exactly what he did and how lousy he is at using his dick by the time I helped you shrug off your coat, but you’ve been uncharacteristically sunny today. Should I worry?”

Giglio’s scowl gets deeper, but her smile is sweet and poisonous. “Arun, since when you’re so into people’s business?”

Arun shrugs and rubs at a stubborn flake of polish that clings to her pinky. “I’m always into people’s business. Just because I don’t usually comment on it, doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

“That would be incredibly creepy coming from literally anyone else, but I know you’re special.”

“Also, Niv has been asking me non-stop about it and I can’t fucking get him to shut up, so please tell me about it.”

Giglio cackles. “I knew Niv had something to do with it.”

Arun rolls their eyes. “I think he was thinking more along the lines of ‘tell her to invite me to the wedding’ rather than ‘ask her what she did with the body’ but same thing, really. As long as he shuts up.” They tap the file on the table. “What shape do you want?”

“Mmh, let’s go with oval. The squarish thing has been driving me crazy, I keep getting tangled into things. But seriously, I don’t feel like talking about him—he was so boring he doesn’t even make for a good break up story, ugh.”

“That bad, huh,” Arun says, focusing on filing Giglio’s nails, knowing that it would launch her into a rant anyway.

And rant Giglio does; Arun tunes her out after a while, ‘mmh’-ing and ‘ahh’-ing and ‘oh damn’-ing in all the right places, clicking their tongue disapprovingly and shaking their head with a slight disgusted snarl, but more focused on their job than her story. They have all the details Niv will want, anyway: Giglio went out with a guy, the guy couldn’t handle her firecracker personality, she got annoyed at him and acted bored until he snapped at her and she had a reason to dump him.

She’d been their client for a couple years, and her dating history was pretty much a repetition of itself, after that one really nasty breakup from another lifetime, the one that gave her Isabella, the one she pretty much pretended never happened. Not even Niv had managed to get the details out of her, and when Niv had his hands on you, he could make you say anything.

Well, almost anything.

“…and that’s most of it. This is the last time I date a gym rat, I swear to god.”

“You said that last time, and yet. Here we are,” Arun says, absently. “What color?”

“Mmm let’s go with that pink. I feel like putting someone’s eye out every time I run my fingers through my hair.”

Arun was about to very seriously suggest her to just get a set of stiletto gel next time, when the door at the other side of the room clicked open, and Niv and his 13.05 appointment, a tall woman with a severe bob haircut and a round face, came out of the massage room, loud laughters and conversation carrying all the way to Arun’s mani station.

“…and then she said, with her most serious little face: ‘my mom kissed Santa once, so I can get whatever I want for Christmas.’ Like—kid has priorities in the right order!” the woman was saying, covering her mouth.

“I love kids so much, oh my God,” Niv wheezed, opening the wardrobe to fetch her coat. “Here your coat,” he tells her, walking her to the desk with a smile. He notices Arun looking at him and smiles, waves hello, and gestures at Giglio, mouthing something.

Arun swallows the knot in their stomach — a reflex, at this point — and they point Niv out to Giglio with a nod of their head. Giglio glances over her shoulder with an interrogative expression. The masseuse winks at her and gives her twin finger guns with a goofy expression on his face before disappearing in the side hallway, where the snack machine lives.

Giglio and Arun roll their eyes simultaneously—but they feel a smile pulling at their lips, and they can tell that even Giglio is fond rather than annoyed.

She settles back in the chair, staring at Arun while they carefully apply a layer of basecoat on her thumb. “You know what? I would be absolutely okay with dating someone like Niv. That kind of… dumbass with a heart of gold, but in a good way, I guess. But in my experience, they’re all already taken or gay.” She seems thoughtful for a moment. “Which one is Niv, again?”

Arun doesn’t actually know, despite having been his colleague and friend for a while now. It’s easier, if they don’t know for sure. It gives them an excuse not to ever ask if they would date someone like Arun. “Gay, I suppose,” Arun answers out loud, clicking the button of the UV lamp with the tip of their latex-covered nail, carefully focusing on their breathing. It wouldn’t do, to be upset in front of a client—as much as Giglio counted as a client. Arun was pretty sure that they became friends around the fifth bitch-fest over shitty men, and wasn’t that a terrifying thought?

“Well, looking is free,” Giglio says with a shrug that only slightly dislodges her hand from under the lamp.

Arun shoots her a glare, and rolls the eye-searing hot pink gel polish bottle between their hands. Their rings rattle noisily against the glass. “So are you going to dive back in, or—?”

“Nah, Saturday is girls’ night. I’m taking Isabella out for some greasy food, and then we’re going to pick a film and have a quiet evening at home while we do each other’s hair, or something.”

Arun makes a noise. Isabella is a fun kid, they met her once when Giglio bought her a very fancy mani for her birthday—she had picked one of Arun’s favorite shades of polish, Purple Haze, and they immediately liked her, even if they would eat their latex gloves before admitting it. “How’s the brat?”

“She’s also upset this week, because one of her little friends at school didn’t invite her to a thing? I’m not even sure what it was, but it was a big deal for her, and he apparently made it very clear that he didn’t want her there.”

“I fucking hate kids, what an asshole,” Arun mutters. They do quick work of the color polish and the topcoat, and rub a little more moisturizer into the skin around Giglio’s nails. “And that’s done.”

“Ah, that looks — It is really fucking pink, isn’t it? I do like it though. Isabella will absolutely give me shit about it.”

“The name on the bottle says Killer pink for a reason.” Arun snorts, peeling their gloves off. “Come, I’ll ring you up.”

“Are you doing something fun this weekend?” Giglio asks as they walk up to the desk near the entry. She opens the wardrobe herself and picks out her coat, before rummaging into the pocket, looking presumably for her wallet.

Arun shrugs, and looks up her info. “A friend is coming to visit me with his wife, so—oof, Niv! Do be careful, will you?”

The huge oaf comes out of nowhere, appearing in Arun’s space and accidentally checking them in the hip, bouncing them away from the pc to get to the drawer under the desk.

“Oops, sorry Arun. Do you know where we keep the thing for the coupons? You know, the thingie with the thing, and also, the other th—”

“If you say thing again, so help me God,” Arun muttered, taking a step back.

They glance over, and see a man on the other side of the desk, looking as nervous as someone about to be roasted alive, almost as tall as Niv; he’s so pale he makes Giglio look like she got a tan.

Giglio is looking at him wide-eyed and with her jaw slightly slack. Huh.

Niv keeps rummaging fruitlessly in the drawers and Arun sighs. “The binder is in the bottom drawer, with the other binders, the hole punch is in the second-to-last drawer, with the other non-writing office supplies.”

“Uhhh, don’t office supplies belong in the top—”

“No, if you don’t want Ilith to murder you, they don’t.” Arun opens the top drawer, sees the messy pile of clips and staplers and post-its, and sighs. “I’ll fix it later. Where were we?” they say, as they move the mouse to wake the screen back up.

“Coupons!” Niv says, fishing the binder out and slapping it on the desk, narrowly missing Arun’s right hand. “A sixty-minute massage with one of our therapists—in this case, yours truly, unless you’d rather pick someone different.”

“Ah, that’s fine,” the pale man on the other side of the desk says finally. “I’m not really sure how this really works. It was a gift, and I--”

“Niv is really good with his hands,” Giglio blurts out, and then she looks like she wants to kick herself. “I mean, if you need a recommendation. I’ve been coming to this center since forever and everyone is really good, to be honest, so just pick whoever.”

“Really? Well, if that’s the case, I’ll try it. With Niv,” the pale man says, and smiles down at her. His blush is really noticeable, but so is Giglio’s.

Niv has a melty expression on his face and looks like he’s about to pull out his phone to take a picture, so Arun elbows him in the ribs, and clears their voice. “Would you rather pay in cash or credit?” they ask Giglio, sugary-sweet.

Giglio basically throws them her credit card, and mutters something under her breath that sounds a lot like Shut the fuck up while Niv and the pale man walk off towards the massage area.

Arun doesn’t snicker at her just because they’re very, very nice.

*

“Today at the center I saw two clients fall in love,” Niv says first thing in the evening, stars in his eyes despite the fact that he hasn’t started drinking yet.

Elva, who is as bad as he is, gets the same expression on her own face and almost spills her drink down the front of her dress. “Oh?” she prompts, interested.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Arun says, wedging themselves in the corner of the sofa, their peppermint drink clutched in hand. “They just happened to stand next to each other, and checked the other out a bit. Giglio likes buff guys and the guy apparently likes small waifish girls who look like they can kill him.”

“No, no, I’m telling you, this is real,” Niv insists, sitting next to them. “I’ve felt it—there was an energy in the air. I can’t explain it but I really think we witnessed something magical.”

“Is this your ‘love doesn’t exist’ shtick again, Arun? Loosen up a bit,” Najm teases them, taking the seat in front of theirs and nudging them under the table with his boot.

“No,” Arun rolls their eyes at their childhood friend. You get dramatic about being rejected by your crush once and your friends won’t ever let you live it down. “I’m just saying, they’re two strangers who met in a massage parlor-slash-nailcare parlor for a grand total of maybe five minutes, who happened to find each other physically appealing and reacted to it. It wasn’t particularly magical, especially not since the damn light above the desk has been flickering like in a horror movie since forever.”

“Folke is definitely coming back for another massage, the guy’s back was so tense I almost hurt my fingers,” Niv says. He slurps half his drink in one go through the straw; the glitter swirls in the pinkish liquid for a moment, catching the light. “And Giglio has been getting her nails done with you for how long, two years now?”

Arun plucks the snowman-shaped marshmallow off the edge of their glass and shoves it in their mouth. They know where Niv was going with this. “Yeah, more or less,” they mutter, chewing the sticky lump of candy with their mouth open.

“You should totally meddle and get them to ask each other out,” Elva says, beating Niv to the punch. “It would be so damn cute if they got on well and ended up dating for real.”

Arun groans. “You said cute but I think you meant gross invasion of privacy.”

Najm chuckles and wipes a bit of condsense from his glasses with the side of his finger. “Come on, Arun. This is all in good fun.”

“Karaoke is supposed to be good fun,” Arun says, gesturing at the machine patiently waiting for them to choose a song to drunkenly sing. “Not whatever this is.”

“Oh, speaking of which, should I pick the first song?” Niv muses, taking the list.

“Ohhhh yes!” Elva squeaks, and she plasters against his side, looking at the list over his shoulder. “Bleh, the duets are all boring, we’re gonna have to improvise—”

“Well, Niv has good instincts for this kind of thing,” Najm points out in a quiet voice, so that only Arun can hear him, and raises his and Elva’s interlaced fingers as if Arun needed a reminder of their relationship.

“He does. He’s good with people,” Arun admits reluctantly. “Well. No, actually. But he’s better than me and he’s—friendly. He sees them, at least.” They groan. “It’s still really a bad idea, if only for the legal repercussions—Giglio might be our friend but this guy is a stranger and—”

“We’re going firstttt!” Elva hollers, and she stands up on wobbly legs, catching Niv’s arm for support as they get closer to the screen with the words. A loud pop song starts pouring out of the speakers and Arun winces a little.

“Don’t look at it as meddling with people’s business, look at it as an opportunity to get closer to Niv,” Najm suggests, patting their shoulder.

Arun chokes on their drink, the mint syrup burning hot-cold up their nose and making their eyes water. “—the fuck going on about, Najm? Niv and I are close enough, we’re friends.”

“Sure.” Najm takes a sip of his drink. “Also, weren’t you complaining just the other day that the fact that you only see each other at work and on our outings is starting to weigh on your friendship?”

Arun coughs again, trying to clear their pipes. “Have you met me? I was being needy and bitchy like the needy and bitchy asshole I am—”

“Nonsense. I really don’t know why you stopped hanging out by yourselves.”

Arun shrugs, even if they know perfectly why. They got scared. They realized they were catching feelings for their best friend and they started finding excuses. They started inviting Najm and Elva to hang out with them so they had a bit of buffer between them.

Najm lets them have their brooding moment, and picks up the songs list, looking through the titles with a wince and glancing at his wife from time to time. Arun watches him in the corner of their eye: he looks so lovestruck it makes him look a little stupid for it, but it’s sweet and Arun is legitimately happy for them.

They used to feel weird about Najm dating someone else—they knew they had no right to feel that way about him, especially since Najm had put it in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t interested; but then Arun realized that they weren’t jealous of him.

Arun was jealous of them, of their relationship, of what they had. They were jealous of their easy smiles, their long-suffering sighs when they got on each other’s nerves. They felt jealous when Najm called in to complain about some stupid shit Elva pulled, and they felt jealous when Niv informed them that he had heard from Elva that they were doing something fun for Najm’s birthday and it was a surprise.

They feel jealous and keep thinking What about me? When is my turn coming?

Which is stupid, because, well. Arun is good at three things in life: nail care, pretending they don’t need a pair of glasses and self-sabotage.

So Arun looks at Niv and aches, like pressing a thumb on a fresh bruise. They know it’s entirely their fault if reaching out to him these days feels like taking a step over a chasm. They’d been the one slowly pushing him away, moving at a fast pace hoping to outrun him. They only have the gods to thank for the fact that he was as stubborn about their friendship as he is stubborn about anyone else’s. Even when Arun acts standoffish and refuses himself to just feel things—

“If Niv got me and Elva together…” Najm says suddenly, pulling them from their thoughts. “Let’s make a bet. If you and Niv manage to get Giglio and that Folke guy on a date, you’ll ask Niv out and stop playing whatever stupid game you’re playing with your brain.”

“What if we don’t?”

“I won’t press the issue anymore. But you’ll have to make a real effort. No self-sabotaging—you’re going to have and try for real.”

Arun sighs, but they feel a warmth in their stomach. It is probably the drink. For a stupid, christmas themed drink, it packs quite a punch. “I’m gonna force you to bail us out, if we get arrested for this.”

“Deal,” Najm smirks, and drains his drink. “But I won’t need to. Good things come in three.”

*

“So, Giglio is coming in next Friday,” Arun says, keeping their tone as casual as they can while they thumb in the code in the vending machine. “Do what you will with this information.”

Niv blinks at them, and then he lights up like a Christmas tree. “Are you saying that you’re gonna help me with the Peppermint Date Operation?”

Arun opens their mouth and then closes it. They sigh, pinching the bridge of their nose between two fingers. “I’m going to regret asking this but—the Peppermint Date Operation?”

“Yeah!” Niv says, excitedly unwrapping his sandwich. “Elva got the idea while we were at the karaoke—I can’t just say that we’re trying to get them together, especially if we’re at risk of being overheard, so she told me to think about a code name for the operation. Folke’s hair is so pale it looks white and Giglio’s a redhead so—peppermint! I got the idea from the candy cane you were stirring your drink with— you like that kind of sneaky stuff, don’t you?”

Arun absolutely loves that kind of sneaky stuff. They are begrudgingly impressed with Niv and Elva’s thinking, even. “That’s awesome, actually.”

“So, what were you thinking for our first mission?”

“Well, I don’t know. You’re the criminal mind here. What should we do?”

“You’re the one with the plans, usually.”

“When it comes to deep-cleaning the laundry room and whipping the interns in place, not when it comes to making people fall in love.”

Niv grins. “Fair.” He tapped a finger on his chin, chewing thoughtfully a mouthful of sandwich. When he tilts his head, the thin braids he’s wearing today follow the movement in a cascade of black strands. “Sauna’s right next to the nail stations, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” Arun confirms. “Planning on having her eyes fall out of her head?”

“I can definitely nudge him into that direction while having him wear very little, yes.”

Arun hums. A very direct approach. They like it. They catch their usual sad cereal bar from the machine tray and unwrap it, shoving half of it in their mouth. “If I smudge her polish and I gotta redo it, I’m putting it on your tab.”

*

And so that’s the start of phase one of the Peppermint Date Op.

Giglio comes in on friday as usual, her hot pink nailpolish chipped to hell and back because she chews on it no matter how many times Arun tells her not to, and they quickly settle in their usual routine. She’s taking a break from Friday night dating, as she’s wont to do after a break up, and she’s in an awfully good mood, for a change.

“I think I want to try something different this week,” she says as Arun is carefully rubbing moisturizer in her cuticles. “Something that pops but isn’t clashing with everything else, you know? I’d love to do the thing you do sometimes where you wear polish in a lighter shade than your skin tone—”

Arun can’t help but snort. “I think the only color lighter than your skin tone I have is straight up chalk white.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I wasn’t going to tell you to do that, but you know. Something along those lines.”

They glance at the sauna room’s door, wondering what is taking so long. “I have a lovely teal that would look really good with your hair. It’s basically green, but a little warmer, so it would pop but it wouldn’t clash.”

There’s a click to their left. Finally.

“Mmm, I’ll tell you… when I see… it…” she says, trailing off. Her eyes get comically wide as she tracks something behind Arun’s back—hopefully Niv and his client and not someone else, or all their effort would go to waste.

They let go a breath they didn’t know they were holding when they hear Niv’s voice explaining the numerous and varied benefits of having a steam bath once in a while, and settle in to watch the show out of the corner of their eye, as they keep taking care of Giglio’s hands.

Giglio actually cranes her head a little to keep following the guy, which is a bit hilarious and a lot inappropriate, and Arun would absolutely be scandalized at her if it weren’t exactly what they were trying to get her to do. When Niv and Folke enter their field of vision, they’re a little too far for Giglio to keep her eyes on them without being caught so she stops.

Her blush is so noticeable. They honestly never saw her lose her composure so quickly. Maybe Niv is really onto something here.

“Seen something you like?” they tease her.

“Oh, shut up.” She lowers her voice. “Isn’t that the guy from the last time? The guy with the coupon.”

Arun hums. “Yeah, he took a liking to the whole massage thing and Niv roped him into a care package—or something. I don’t actually know what kind of treatments we offer in that area, I’m just a nail technician.”

“Mmm.”

“So, do you want to try that teal?”

The rest of the appointment goes well. Giglio likes the polish well enough that she declares she might have found her new favourite shade after Bruis’em and Blackeye, she pays and she’s off.

Niv emerges from the massage room with Folke in tow a few minutes later, all smiles and polite laughter as usual. Arun is still at the desk, tidying up a little while they wait for their next client, when Niv smiles at them, conspiratorial. “Hi Arun! How was your appointment?”

“Giglio tried a new shade,” Arun says, casual. “Peppermint Teal,” which isn’t a real color of course. They feel a little juvenile about it, but Niv’s eyes shine and his smile grows as he fiddles with the cash register, and Arun feels giddy like a schoolgirl.

“Excuse me,” Folke addresses Arun, to their surprise. “Uhm, I couldn’t help but notice that you were sitting with the woman who last time gave me advice about the massage earlier—that was her, wasn’t it”

Arun glances at Niv, but he looks as surprised as they feel. “Uh. I probably shouldn’t—but yes, it was her. Why?”

“Oh, huh, I didn’t think about it, that probably goes against your privacy policies or something but—if you are able to, can you thank her?” He fidgets, clearly embarrassed. “I was going to ask for a refund last time, but her endorsement made me curious and—I’ve had trouble sleeping lately and the massage therapy really helped me with that, so. Yeah.”

“Well, I suppose I can do that,” Arun allows. “Would you like me to give her a name to go with the thanks?”

“Oh no, that would be beyond creepy, wouldn’t it?” Folke says, clearly flustered. “She seems such a fine lady, I would hate to scare her.”

Gods help them, Arun likes him. They really hope this whole thing doesn’t blow up in their faces, because it really wouldn’t do to hurt this man over a stupidass game between colleagues—nevermind that it’s so much more, but Arun is carefully not thinking about that. It’s easier if they don’t let themselves feel.

Unaware of Arun’s inner turmoil, Folke pays for his treatment, wishes them a good day and leaves.

Niv immediately starts to wave his hands all around. “Arun!! Arun!! Did you see that? Did you hear that???” He grabs Arun by the shoulders to shake them a little in his excitement, and then immediately grimaces and drops them. “Ah, sorry, I forgot you don’t—”

“I heard him,” Arun says, patting his hand reassuringly. It’s sweet that he remembered, but—it’s just Niv. “Fuck, you really might be onto something.”

“This is almost too easy, it’s almost disappointing. But! Ahhh, love!”

Arun hums. “You know what does this mean?”

“That love exists and it’s the power that makes the world go round?”

“Maybe,” Arun concedes. “But mostly—we’re ready for phase two.”

*

Phase two is supposed to go like this: schedule both appointments at the same time, but in the middle of a timeslot, so they would be forced to wait in the waiting room, giving them an excuse to chat. It’s apparently Elva’s idea, who came up with it after Niv excitedly reported to her about phase one, telling her especially how Folke had done half of the work for them already, and Arun liked it a lot when Niv told him about it: it barely counted as meddling. They were basically just doing their job.

So they wait for them to call, and fix both appointments for friday morning at 10.35.

Folke comes in first, at 10.25, carefully pushing the door so that the bell doesn’t ring too hard, before pulling his scarf off—and that’s when Arun, in the middle of buffing a gel nail for the chattiest lady they’d ever sat down at their station, realizes the hole in their plan.

Niv is locked away in the massage room. Arun can barely see the tiny square of old armchairs in the corner that works as their waiting room, and they’re not at all sure they can hear a conversation from there—and even if they could, they couldn’t just stop working and crane their neck to try and eavesdrop, not without getting a glare from Chatty Lady.

Fuck.

Giglio comes in at 10.37, studiously late as usual, giving her none-too-gentle signature bell-rattling shove to the door, and gives them a weird look as she pulls her gloves off when she notices they’re still busy with the previous client. In all the time they’ve been their nail technician, it never really happened, in fact.

Fuck. Maybe this definitely counted as meddling.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Arun murmurs to Chatty Lady, interrupting her story about—whatever she was talking about—with the slightest quirk of lips. “Hey Giglio! Sorry, can you sit down for a moment while I finish here? I’m a little late—but I’m gonna be right there.”

Giglio nods and stalks off. Arun sees her startle in the corner of their eye when she notices that Folke is sitting there as well, almost as white as the chairs’ stained upholstery. As they feared, they absolutely can’t discern a single word of their conversation and they can barely see their mouths move. Maybe they really should go ask about those glasses…

“Was I late?” Chatty Lady suddenly pulls them from their attempted eavesdropping, sounding actually apologetic and worried.

“Oh, no, ma’am,” Arun reassured her, instantly feeling bad about being annoyed by her chattiness. “I accidentally put you in as a regular mani instead of an acrylics mani, which requires a bit more time because of the construction and sculpting phase, so my next appointment got a bit crooked. No worries.”

Of course, after that, time slows down to a halt: the acrylic takes forever to harden; the file seems to take off nothing from the material, no matter how many times they scrape it back and forth; the lady can’t make up her mind about the color; the polish doesn’t dry; the moisturizer doesn’t get absorbed by the skin.

Arun has to restrain themselves not to scream “LIAR” at the clock on the desk when it tells them that it’s only 10.50. They ring up the lady, who thankfully seems very happy with her nail job even if it took the worst forty-five of Arun’s life, and finally goes to get Giglio from the waiting room-slash-lounging corner; she’s sitting in a comfortable sprawl on one of the shitty chairs and giving a wolfish grin to Folke, who is stammering about something with a flush all over his nose. They both look extremely pleased and taken with each other though, so apparently Giglio hasn’t tried to take a bite out of him. Yet.

“Sorry about the wait,” they say, clearing their voice and shoving a strand of hair behind their ear. “Are you ready for your appointment?”

“Ah, that’s me,” Giglio says, standing up and brushing inexistent dust from her pants. “It was so nice chatting with you, Folke. Enjoy your massage, if you manage to get it, that is—” she turns to Arun. “Why the fuck is everyone late? Did your computer eat the schedule?”

“Holidays last-minute care-packages, you know how it is.” Arun lies, smoothly. “Niv will be with you shortly,” they reassure Folke, who just smiles and runs a hand through his frizzy, pale hair.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re lying?” Giglio asks them later through her teeth, as Arun goes through the motions of manicure.

“Because you’ve known me for too long,” Arun replies without missing a beat. “Weird though, I didn’t know paranoia was infectious.”

“You’re full of shit but I admire your guts,” Giglio hums. “Let’s do the teal again.”

Arun lets her talk about whatever for a bit, before they realize they’re dying to know what she and Folke talked about. When they glance towards the waiting lounge he sees that Folke isn’t there so Niv must have come to collect him, and Niv is probably currently having a better time extracting info from Folke than Arun will ever hope to pull out of Giglio, but—

“So, did you make a friend?”

“What?”

“The pale guy. I felt like I was interrupting something earlier when I came to get you.”

“Oh,” Giglio breathes out, and for a moment she is a little pinker than usual. “It was nothing. He just thanked me for recommending him to get those massages. He told me he’s asked you to thank me, actually, is that true?”

“Yeah, but today is the first time I see you after he asked, so he beat me to the punch.”

“He’s a little weird,” Giglio shook her head. “But I think he means well? We were just talking about relaxation techniques. You know I did that anger management thing for a while? He apparently worked as a therapist for that kind of thing, so we started exchanging experiences and shit. I’m actually a bit surprised he never went the physical therapy route before but—oh, I didn’t think of asking for a contact…” she trailed off, a frown on her face.

Arun bites their lip to keep from smiling.

Phase two complete.

*

“I’m actually having fun,” Arun admits later, while they’re having a break in the vending machine hallway. “I might start to understand why you and Elva always got up to this meddling thing. It is sort of fun. The way gossip is fun, I guess.”

Niv whoops in triumph. “Yes! Finally! Come to the dark, meddling side.” He laughs. “Kidding aside—I missed this. Just the two of us, getting up to weird shit. Do you remember when we went camping that one time? We were supposed to get to the lake but we went in the wrong direction and ended up camping in a swamp instead—!

Arun shudders. “Don’t remind me. I was so covered in sludge I had to burn my clothes and take out all my piercings to get them clean. I had dirt everywhere.” They point a finger at Niv, who is still laughing. “Everywhere, Niv! I had dried up mud in places I didn’t know existed. It was so caked on I couldn’t see my tattoos.” They sighed. “It was fun, though. It felt very—you know. The fire, cooking stuff on the open flame. Not my usual thing, but it was… nice.”

“Mmm. That time at the beach was great, too. And that time we went to see the old Palace and we almost got locked in because we misread the closing times.”

“Oh, fuck, I forgot about that. It was the same time we almost got locked out of the hotel, wasn’t it? You bitched the whole time about the fact that forests don’t have closing times at least.”

“It was! And I totally did, didn’t I?” He grimaced a little, playing with a bead in his hair. “I had a lot of fun though. You talk a lot when you’re asked about architecture things, you know? One forgets about your grumpy shtick for a moment.” Niv gently bumps a shoulder against his. “Why did we stop doing stuff? We ever see each other at lunch break and—meddling in other people’s love lives now, I guess.”

Arun shrugs. “I’m bad at people. I got into my head, I guess? I don’t remember.” It wasn’t—it was true that they didn’t remember when they started to try and put some distance between them and Niv. It was true that they got into their head. It was true that they were bad at people. But it wasn’t the whole truth, either. “Sometimes I assume that people don’t want me around and act accordingly,” they say, appallingly too honest all of a sudden. “Just ask Najm, he’s been dealing with my bullshit for almost forever.”

“You can be a little stubborn in your ways,” Niv conceded. “Good thing that you have friends who are more stubborn than you, mh?”

Arun smiles. The ache mellows out for a moment into something warmer, sweeter.

*

Arun isn’t smooth. Arun is the least smooth person in all Dunya. They still don’t know why Niv decided that they had to be the one giving Giglio’s number to Folke, but they’re sweating bullets as they rub moisturiser into his skin, the latex gloves clinging uncomfortably to their sweaty palms, and they just want to get it over with, so they slam the jar of lotion on the glass surface of the table and stick their hand down their apron’s pocket. Folke startles badly — he was following the procedure so attentively Arun wondered if he thought they were going to quiz him about it later — and looks up, confused.

“Look,” Arun says, pulling the bit of paper they’d written Giglio’s number on. “I don’t know if this is legal so I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone I did this, okay? Giglio mentioned that she would’ve liked to have your number or something, so—here.”

Folke stares at them and at the small piece of paper, and blinks. “Oh,” he says.

“Yeah.” Arun wipes their hands on their pants — uselessly, of course, because the sweat is safely encased in his gross gloves — and grabs the buffing file. “Do you want me to leave them natural or are you sure in your masculinity and like a little liquid shine?”

Folke coughs. “I wondered if I could get that teal Giglio likes, actually?”

Oh, Arun likes him. “Sure.”

“I’m obviously not asking you this, but—” Folke says, lowering his voice. “Do you think that, if I asked her out on a date, she would say yes?”

Arun knows he’s just asking for confirmation because he’s nervous — they’ve been there and done that — but for some reason, Folke asking about the date reminds them about their side of the deal with Najm.

Do you think that if I asked him out on a date he would say yes?

“Yes,” Arun hears themselves say. “Of course.”

Folke smiles, dazzling and happy, and Arun breathes it in.

*

*

Arun isn’t smooth. Arun is the least smooth person in all Dunya. They still don’t know how they’re going to ask Niv out, and every fiber in their body is screaming at them not to fuck it up, because that’s one step that is really difficult to unfuck, and their hands are so sweaty their rings keep sliding right off, and so they just slam the flat of their palm against the side of the vending machine to work a bit of nerves out, and they stick their hand down their apron’s pocket looking for another coin—

“By the way, are you free tonight?”

Arun almost swallows their tongue. “Sorry what?”

Niv clears his voice. “I mean. You can just—say no or we can just do something more casual and—but I was wondering if I could take you out tonight. There’s that restaurant that is also a library and is also a coffeeshop and— uhm. I mean. Yes. You know, dinner and… huh I don’t know. A movie? Book shopping?”

“Do you mean like,” Arun has to clear their voice in the middle of the sentence. “A date?”

Niv’s complexion is distinctly darker and redder than usual. He fixes the headband keeping his naturally frizzy hair out of his face with a nervous gesture. “Well. Yes?”

“Dinner?” Arun blurts out. “I was going to take you to the beach tomorrow.”

Niv blinks confused for a moment, then he catches on and smiles, amused. “In the winter?”

“I was—I planned a bonfire. I c-called a guy and everything because setting yourself on fire isn’t romantic, I don’t think—and you hate the city and you love the cold, for some hellish reason, and I— I bought marshmallows,” Arun finishes lamely, acutely wondering what the hell is wrong with them.

They don’t know if they’re actually shivering, but it feels like they’re about to vibrate out of their skin out of nerves. Niv’s eyes are squinty and shiny with something that looks a horrible lot like happiness and Arun doesn’t know how to deal with that, so they look away. “Y-you can also say no, of course.”

The touch of Niv’s hand on their jaw is gentle, as he leans down to press their foreheads together. “I would love to go on the beach with you. We can do both. And we can decide to do something else—together.”

Arun laughs, wet and warm. “Good things come in three.” Niv laughs right along.