Void exhaled like she'd just come through a minor war, as the crooked bed frame stood tall enough to qualify as furniture. She tossed the useless booklet onto the pile of discarded packaging.
"Instructions were cursed anyway. Might as well have been printed in fucking runes."
"You mean they had words you didn't write yourself? That explains everything." Her smirk widened, voice dripping smug. "Void, author of one thousand programs, felled by a cartoon arrow. Put it on your résumé."
Void shot her a look, one brow arched. "At least my code compiles. This?" She jabbed a finger at the bed. "This was designed by sociopaths with too much time and a sadistic sense of humor."
Amy sat on the floor, Vector sprawled in her lap like an exhausted factory supervisor. Her smile was shy but unmistakably warm as she looked between them, eyes bright with that little flicker of amusement she rarely let out. She didn't say much - just tucked her hair behind her ear and let her laughter escape in soft bursts, still learning that it's safe to smile in her new home.
"It doesn't look that bad," she ventured, with a small but sincere voice.
"Doesn't look that bad?" Keira snorted, strolling forward and giving the frame a test shove. It groaned ominously. "If I so much as sneeze on this thing it's going to collapse like a politician's promise."
Void threw up her hands. "Oh, come on. It's standing, isn't it? Crooked, maybe, but standing. Function over form."
"Now that's fucking rich coming from you out of all people." Keira smirked, leaning on the frame with her hip. "You're the same woman who spent three hours last week swapping out heatpipes 'cause the colors didn't match your setup."
Amy's giggle slipped free again. She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes darting between them seemingly worried about picking sides. Void softened immediately at the sound, her scowl cracking just enough to let some warmth through.
"Don't enable her, Amy. She's unbearable enough already."
"I'm not-" Amy's cheeks pinked, but she didn't stop smiling. "I just think... You three did a good job."
Void's brows lifted. "You three?"
Amy ducked her head, scratching behind Vector's ears. "Well, Vector helped."
"Oh yeah, huge contribution. Unpaid cat labor really carried the team." Keira bent down, scratching Vector's chin. "He supervised, you assembled, I provided moral superiority. Classic division of labor."
Void flopped down beside Amy, stretching her legs out with a sigh. "I'm filing a lawsuit against IKEA. This was emotional damage."
"Sweetheart, IKEA doesn't exist anymore." Keira grinned. "But sure, sue the corpse of capitalism, since fighting shadows is what you do best."
Amy bit her lip, stifling another laugh, then leaned over to smooth the rumpled instruction sheet one last time. "They weren't even that hard to follow... You just didn't read them. Like at all."
Void groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. "Betrayed in my own home. Again."
Keira laughed so hard she had to sit down on the bed, wiping her eyes. "Oh my god. Void, eaten alive by diagrams and a broken chemist. History books are gonna eat this one up."
Amy shook her head quickly, fumbling for an apology. "I didn't mean-"
Void cut her off with a wave of her hand, softening her tone. "Girl, relax. You're right. I never read instructions. Too stubborn for my own good."
"Correction: you never read instructions because you think you're smarter than paper."
Void smirked, side-eyeing her. "You know I usually am."
"Usually you're not."
They bickered a few minutes longer, the sharpness of it softened by the laughter threading through. Vector eventually abandoned Amy's lap to curl up in one of the discarded cardboard boxes, purring like a tiny engine.
By the time they got the last of the packaging cleared and the tools put away, the room looked less like a battlefield and more like a proper bedroom. The bed stood, now with clean sheets pulled tight across it. Amy smoothed her hand across the fabric like it was something fragile, as her shy little smile slowly bloomed into unparalleled expression of gratitude.
"It's... Mine," she whispered, barely able to believe it.
Void glanced at her, a flicker of something heavy crossing her expression, then looked away. "Damn right it is. Lights out now, see you tomorrow, nerd."
The afternoon sun sliced hard angles down the street when Void stepped out of her apartment, hands shoved deep in her pockets, head down, boots scuffing the familiar cracks. She'd told Keira to stick close to Amy - "She needs us, and you've got time off. Connect the dots." - and Keira hadn't dared to argue. Babysitting a broken girl who was trying to learn how to be ordinary sounded a hell of a lot better than explaining nuance to a corpo with tinted shades and a bottle of arrogance.
The Taverna crouched between two shuttered shops, its incandescent sign buzzing like it was offended by daylight. Inside was twilight on purpose: grease-slick air, the sour cord of old beer, and booths scarred by other people's bad choices. Luxy was already at their favorite chipped wooden table tucked in a secluded corner, half-bottle sweating in her hand.
Void saw her immediately - half the black hair shaved away, a jacket with a matching color that looked like it had been patched together from bad decisions and better intentions, a leather skirt torn in a few places - and slid into the seat opposite without hesitating. She flicked two fingers at the bartender. "Couple more here. My girl's drinking alone again." She looked at Luxy and added, "You don't even wait anymore, do you?
Luxy dropped her bottle with a hollow thunk and snorted. "Waitin's for saints. Thought you'd know that by now."
Void stretched her arms on the booth and grinned crookedly. "And here I was thinking you were one. Halo and everything. Helping the lost gaybabies while sipping your martyr's brew."
"You're just mad because I drink better than you," Luxy shot back, eyes bright behind the sarcasm.
Two beers arrived. Void popped one open, the foam hissing, and raised it. "To professional degeneracy." They clinked; the sound was small against the rough wood.
"So... How's the redhead?" Luxy asked, chin in her hand.
Void laughed. "Same. Fixes cars by day, threatens to torch the world by night. Says she's allergic to customers, and yet they bring her cash."
Luxy's smirk crooked. "Hot mechanics usually don't struggle for business. And what about your stray?"
Void's grin softened. She rolled the beer between her palms. "Amy's holding. Quiet, but sharper than she lets on. Built her first bed frame with us last night - actually followed the instructions and made me look like an idiot in front of Keira."
Luxy gave a low chuckle. "Sounds like she fits right in."
Void drained a long swallow and set the bottle down. "What about you? How's Jules?"
The smile dropped from Luxy's face. Her fingers drifted, restless. "Still drowning. Therapy's on, meds are on, but the storms don't care. Every day's a mountain she never asked to climb."
"Dump the core, girl," Void said, voice blunt but gentle. "That's why I came."
Luxy looked into her bottle like she was summoning the words. "Some nights she's fine. Like really fine - laughing at trash TV, kissing me like before. For a second it feels like it never happened. Then a sound - my keys, or a dropped spoon - and she flinches. Or I touch her too quick and she pulls away. It's like living with a ghost who doesn't know she's haunting me."
Void sipped her beer and gave Luxy room. "And you?"
Luxy's voice cracked. "I lie awake staring at the ceiling, wondering if I'm allowed to want her the way I did. If touching her will ever be simple. Sometimes I feel like a selfish asshole for wanting it. She says she loves me, says she wants me there, but half the time I'm waiting for her to decide I'm too much work - like I'm just another weight tied to her ankle."
Void set her bottle down hard enough that the thunk matched the sentence. "Lux. You're not her trauma. You're her lifeline. Stop making yourself the bad guy."
"You try telling that to someone who can't even meet your eyes some days," Luxy said, bitter and small all at once.
Void leaned in, elbows on the table. "Maybe it isn't about you. Maybe she's fighting the demons you can't see. You don't have to carry the blame. Those who hurt her? They came before you, dumbass."
Luxy rubbed her temple. "I used to fix things. Busted cyberware, brains that got nearly fried, fellow runners OD-ing on hard shit - I'm the one who handles that. This one? This I can't fix. It eats me the fuck alive."
Void didn't let her step back. She reached and laid a steady hand over Luxy's. "You don't fix people. You hold them. Walk with them until they can stand. Slow as shit and nobody ever thanks you for it - but it matters. That's the job."
Luxy let out a shaky breath and laughed, half a sob. "Goddamn it, you sound like you swallowed a self-help book."
"Someone's gotta remind you of the stuff you already knew," Void said, squeezing before she let go.
They drank in silence for a bit. The bartender came by and slid two more beers like fate's mercy. Luxy's eyes were rimmed with red where she hadn't realized she'd been crying. She twisted the cap off and tilting her head asked, "What about you? You let me unload, but always dodge when it's your turn."
"Ah, you want the honest shit? You're in luck, ethanol's already in," Void rolled her eyes and took a long drink. "Sometimes I think Keira's only with me because she's too stubborn to admit she could do better. And Amy... She looks at me like I'm an anchor. I'm standing there with knives in my pockets, wondering when they'll notice I'm the last person who should be trusted to hold someone together."
Luxy's lips thinned. "That's fuckin' rich... Miss I'm-Everyone's-Savior feelin' like a liability."
Void barked a rusty laugh out. "You ever wake up and the first thought is, 'Why the fuck am I still here?' I've carved that question into my skin with a razor more times than I can count. Do Amy and Keira deserve someone who's still deciding if she's worth keeping alive? No. They deserve stable. Not me bleeding all over them."
Luxy's face softened but stayed guarded. "So we're frauds, then."
"A couple of frauds propping up the world," Void said, and it almost read like a compliment.
They drank until the warmth started to thin the edges off the hurt. Void popped another cap and jabbed it at Luxy. "Everyone thinks we're ironclad bitches - tattoos, leather, wires, scars - the badass brand. But half the time I'm trying not to fall apart in the shower."
Luxy barked a laugh that broke. She scrubbed at her face with her sleeve. "Same. They all call me the rock of our little gay circus, but rocks erode. If one more kid knocks on my door crying about being kicked out, I'm gonna collapse. Then who do they have?"
"You're human, Luce. Not a hotline, Void said. "You don't have to swallow every tragedy the city vomits up. But I get it. Amy looks at me like a shield. Keira thinks I'm steady. They don't know I have nights on the balcony, wondering who would miss me."
Luxy flinched like the words hit her. "Don'tcha fuckin' say that, cunt. You matter. To me. To them. You fucking matter."
Void's smile was a bruise. "Tell that to the scars. They don't listen."
Something broke in Luxy then. She let out a thin sound and buried her face in her hands before peeking up with eyes glassy. "Pathetic confession: sometimes I lie next to Julie when she's asleep and I put my hand on her ribs to feel her breathe. I'm scared she'll decide it's not worth fighting anymore and I'll be there and miss it and she'll be fuckin' gone."
Void's grin vanished. She leaned close. "You fucking idiot. That's not pathetic. It's terrified love. Messy and terrifying. That's what love looks like sometimes."
Luxy laughed, and it hurt. "Feels more broken than your half-finished daemons."
The bartender hovered, a little more attentive. Void flagged him down once more. "Two shots. Whiskey. We're way too sober for this."
"To Jules," Void locked eyes with Luxy, adding with a smirk, "...and her personal babysitter." They slammed the shots together, coughed through the burn, and let out a long, shared exhale.
"What I miss," Luxy said later, twisting the empty glass, "is touch without the checklist. Prior partners? We couldn't keep our hands off each other. Now I check her face before I touch her. I hate myself for resenting what I want. I crave what she might never be able to give."
Void's fingers trembled on one of the empty bottles. "That isn't selfish. Wanting closeness with the one you love is human. Don't make yourself a martyr for needing it."
"Every flinch makes me feel like the monster," Luxy said. "Like I've become the fuckin' thing that hurt her."
"You're not the monster," Void said flatly, curling her hand over Luxy's. "You're still here. That matters more than you give it credit for."
Luxy squeezed back like she was holding the words down in her chest. They sat with the hum of neon and fryer oil around them until Void cracked a dry laugh. "We tell everyone not to give up and then drink ourselves stupid on a Wednesday. Hypocrisy's the glue of queer survival."
The bartender, efficient as ever, slid another round their way. Void lifted her glass with mock gravity. "To the queer disasters pretending to be fine."
"And to the women who love us for some fuckin' reason," Luxy answered, voice rough.
They drank, and the alcohol did less and less to dull the ache. After a while the ceiling's cracks looked like constellations mapping out every thing they'd failed to save.
"Sometimes I wonder if we're just not enough," Void said quietly. "No matter how much love we have, can we patch holes someone else ripped open?"
Luxy almost sobbed. "Same. Every. Single. Fucking. Day. I'd bleed myself dry for Julie to smile without her looking over her shoulder. But love doesn't fix what's already broken."
"No," Void said, swallowing hard so the words didn't turn into something dangerous. "Love doesn't fix. It keeps them breathing long enough that maybe one day they'll want to try. The job isn't to be the mechanic - it's to be the light when they can't see the door. Even it's in front of their blind fucking eyes."
"What if I can't keep the light on?" Luxy whispered.
Void's eyes locked on hers. "Then you come find me. We'll sit in some shitty bar like this and hold each other up until the lights come back. Deal?"
Tears finally slipped down Luxy's cheeks. She laughed wetly, shaking her head. "You're a pain in the fuckin' ass."
"Yeah," Void said. "But somehow you keep shoving me deeper up there every time we meet up. Masochist much?"
Luxy pulled both of Void's hands into hers and held on. "Don't you dare leave me, Void. Don't you ever."
Void's throat got thick. She squeezed back, hard enough that it hurt in a good way. "I won't. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not until we're old, drunk, retired queers yelling at kids to turn down their Rezodrone trash."
Luxy waved a hand at the bartender, slurring just enough to sound charming. "Oi, pretty man! Another round, yeah? One last one, I swear!"
The bartender raised an eyebrow, giving them both a long look. Void leaned back, grin crooked, and said, "No worries. Put it on my tab - I'll take care of her mess."
He started to pour, but Luxy, with a quick flick of her wrist, snatched the whiskey bottle before it hit the glass. She tipped it slightly, just enough for a swallow straight from the neck, then hiccupped like it was the world's funniest joke. The bartender shot her the signature "they don't pay me enough to care about that shit" look and simply walked away in silence.
"Hey! You said 'one last one,' not a full-on apocalypse," Void barked, trying not to laugh at the gleam in Luxy's eyes.
"Pfft, rules are for sober people," Luxy slurred, wobbling a little as she passed the bottle toward Void. "Come on, share the misery, babe."
Void caught it, rolling her eyes, and took a slow pull, the burn dragging down her throat. She set the bottle on the table with a heavy thump. "Fine, but if either of us ends up crying on the floor, you're taking the blame."
Luxy grinned like a cat that knew she was getting away with murder. "Deal. But I'm not promising it won't be adorable."
A low hum cut through the bar, and Void noticed the music shifting mid-song. The familiar riff of Black Dog replaced the lazy shanty track that had been playing. Luxy leaned back in her chair, a wicked, lopsided grin on her face. "Heh. Pathetic security. Thought the bar could use a little... Upgrade."
Void raised an eyebrow, incredulous. "You hacked their net? Bitch, unhinged tricks are my job."
Luxy shrugged, eyes gleaming beneath exhaustion. "What? Someone's gotta make the soundtrack for our misery." She raised her glass to Void. "Now we can drown in alcohol and this beautiful noise at the same time."
They gripped the bottle together, a sloppy clink as the amber liquid sloshed, music vibrating through the bar and deep into their ribs.
Luxy twisted the bottle in her hands, tilting it back to swallow a burn that went straight to her chest. Her voice wavered, thin and raw. "You know, everyone thinks I've got it together. Big-shot fixer, all that. Truth? Two months behind on rent. Landlord's circling me like a shark, and I'm just... Pretending not to bleed." She rubbed her face with both hands, letting the weight settle. "And the NGOs... Fuck... Don't get me started. Half the board wants actual change, the other half just wants press releases and selfies. I'm stuck in the middle, babysitting egos while watching the whole thing rot."
Void blinked, caught off guard by the flood. Her chest ached, throat tightening as she leaned back, staring at the scratched-up ceiling scrambling for a reply. "Funny. I thought you were untouchable, Lux. Untethered. Meanwhile here I am... Everyone thinks I'm hard-edged, the unbreakable bitch who eats fire for breakfast. Truth? I haven't slept more than four hours in weeks. Every time I close my eyes, I feel like I'm missing something... Like if I let go for too long, the whole world slips and I lose everyone. Again."
Luxy passed the bottle to Void, who took a long swig, letting the burn anchor her in the moment. Luxy's eyes stayed on her, soft but raw. "I know what it's like to wear the mask too tight," she murmured. "To let people clap for a version of you that doesn't exist. The cruelest part? You start clapping too, until one day you realize the applause isn't for you anymore."
Void let out a sharp, shaky laugh, almost choking on the whiskey. "You're describing my entire fucking existence." She ran her thumb along the neck of the bottle. "It's pathetic, isn't it? Two women who can stare down corpos, gunmen, this whole damn shithole... And this is what breaks us. Debt notices, petty politics... Empty beds."
Luxy's fingers twitched on the bottle, hovering near Void's as if she wanted to reach across but wasn't sure she dared. "Not pathetic. JuSt HuMaN, remember? Which is probably worse. Ya fuckin' hypocrite."