Chapter 2 Episode Two

An exhausted Aria juggled her keys, the grocery bag cutting into her wrist as she nudged the apartment door open with her hip. The sitting room was dark except for the flicker of light from the TV.

On her couch, legs stretched out like he owned the place, was Elijah. Chips in one hand, the remote control in the other, and an empty bowl of popcorn by his side on the couch. A Marvel movie, playing on the TV.

"Elijah," she said flatly, shutting the door with her foot. "What are you doing in my apartment?"

"Hey, you're back."

"You haven't answered my question."

"I'm... hanging out?" He popped a chip in his mouth, chewed slowly, eyes still on the screen.

Aria set the groceries down on the counter a little harder than necessary. "How did you get in?"

"Your spare key."

"My spare key was in the cookie jar, at the back of the cupboard."

He gave her a look like she was being ridiculous. "Yeah. I wanted cookies."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Elijah."

"What? You said I could crash here if I ever..."

"...If you ever called first." She crossed to the TV and hit mute. "And last I checked, crashing here didn't include raiding my fridge, watching movies on my Netflix, and-" She eyed the empty popcorn bowl by his side.

"-finishing the only snack I had left in the house."

He smirked faintly. "Technically, you still have kale chips."

"Elijah."

The smirk faded. He leaned back into the couch cushions, avoiding her gaze. "I needed somewhere to be tonight. Just... somewhere not my place."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

A shrug. "Because."

"That's not a reason."

"Because it's quiet here, okay?" His voice was sharper this time, a little too quick.

Aria crossed her arms. "Quiet? Elijah, your place is three floors up from a yoga studio and across the street from a juice bar. How loud could it be?"

Another shrug. His hand went back to the chip bag.

She took a slow breath, walking over to pluck the bag out of his hand. "What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"You only show up unannounced when you've screwed up," she said, eyes locked on him. "So, let's skip the part where you pretend it's nothing and go straight to the part where you tell me what you did."

His jaw flexed. "I didn't do anything."

She just waited, letting the silence press in.

Finally, he exhaled, sitting forward, elbows on his knees. "It's not what I did, it's... what I owe."

Her stomach sank. "Who do you owe?"

"Some guys."

"Some guys?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's not, like, mob stuff."

"That's exactly what people say when it's mob stuff."

"It's not mob stuff." His voice rose, defensive. "It's just, okay, I made some bad bets."

Her eyes closed briefly. "Elijah..."

"I was gonna win it back, but..."

"How much?" she cut in.

He hesitated. "Not... a lot."

"How much?"

"Fifteen."

She blinked. "Fifteen hundred?"

He stared at her.

Her voice went deadly quiet. "Fifteen thousand?"

He held up his hands. "It's not as bad as it sounds..."

"It sounds like you've lost your mind."

"Look, I just need a little time, alright? I've got a plan..."

"Elijah, unless your plan involves printing money, I don't want to hear it." She ran a hand through her hair, pacing to the kitchen and back. "When are you supposed to pay it back?"

"Soon."

"How soon?"

"Tomorrow."

Her head snapped up. "Tomorrow?"

He gave a sheepish half-shrug. "End of the day."

She dropped onto the armchair, staring at him. "Do you even have any of it?"

"...Five hundred."

Her laugh was short and humorless. "So you're short fourteen and a half grand, and you thought the solution was to eat my popcorn and watch Marvel movies?"

"I didn't exactly have a better plan."

She leaned forward, eyes locked on him. "Who are they, Elijah?"

He shook his head. "You don't want to know."

"Try me."

"No, I mean it, Aria. You don't."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The muted TV played out an explosion in silence.

Aria sat back, exhaling slowly. "You're sleeping on the couch."

He smiled faintly. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me. Tomorrow, we're figuring this out.

His smile faltered.

She reached for the remote, unmuted the movie, and let it fill the space between them.

But she didn't watch it.

She was already thinking about who she might have to call.

Aria woke to the smell of burnt toast.

She stumbled out of her bedroom in an oversized T-shirt, hair in a messy knot, and found Elijah in the kitchen poking at the toaster like it had personally offended him.

"I own a frying pan," she said, voice still rough from sleep.

"Toast is faster," he replied without looking at her.

"Not if you set it on fire." She pulled the plug and dumped the blackened slices straight into the trash. "Coffee?"

He nodded, too quickly.

She poured two mugs, watching him from the corner of her eye. He was jumpy. Kept glancing at his phone like he was expecting something to jump out of it.

"When's the meeting?" she pressed.

"Two o'clock."

Her stomach tightened. "You're going to meet them?"

"I don't have a choice."

"You do if you're not suicidal."

He gave a humorless laugh. "Trust me, not showing up would be worse."

She gripped the counter. "And what's your plan? Stroll in with five hundred dollars and a smile?"

He avoided her gaze. "Maybe they'll give me more time."

She almost laughed. "Elijah, guys like that don't give extensions. They give warnings. And then they collect in other ways."

"Yeah, well... what do you want me to do?"

"Not go," she said firmly.

He looked at her, eyes tired but stubborn. "You can't fix this for me, Aria."

She didn't respond, just stared into space.

The rest of breakfast was silent