Her last phrase lingers in the air tonight, plaguing his heart and bothering his mind as he clenches the strap of the leather side bag. He's hung it up on his headboard, to watch it swing and settle like a pendulum.

"You deserve better."

It has changed, he feels it, something in how he sees things has irreversibly shifted. There was no more buffering, the results were plain and yet he hoped to deny them a bit longer. It was making him uncomfortable, relying on somebody, being scared of loosing them. 

"Please," he prays internally, "Please don't let her notice."

Conversation goes as normal the next day, he proudly explains his work, that the meeting had gone well and he was happy with it. Acting seems to be going well, nothing feels or seems off.

"You done something to your hair!" she notes in sudble surprise.

Josh pulled on his collar nervously, "I never should have agreed to go. I mean I already explained this stuff to Mr. Steele do I really have to do it for the board too? I'm behind on my hours."

Mel made her way gracefully across the room, her peach colored dress swinging in gentle ripples as the AC unit blew across the bottom edge of lace.

She brought two steady hands to his neck and fixed his tie, her eyes looking up proudly.

"You'll be great. You're going to help a lot of people. You'll do amazing, I know it."

"I don't know how they got my name for this in the first place. I haven't done this stuff in years- I mean they seemed like they were expecting me to come...."

She glances aside, as if to avoid him and suddenly he realizes.

"Mel?"

"Yes Josh?"

"You told them," he says slowly as he realizes the truth, a quizzical smile overtaking his face.

"Josh-"

"Who did you even call?"

"My Dad."

"Your Dad...who's cousins with Jacob Steele?"

Mel bit her lip and shook her head a bit nervously as she watched his expression change.

"No, no way..."

"Don't be mad, please, it's just it comes with so much and I've spent my whole life avoiding it an trying to get out of it-"

"You're his daughter, you're Jacob Steeles daughter."

"Yeah," she hides her face in her hands, "Yeah I am."

Josh stood up and laughed harder, "And you were mad at me! For not telling you something infinitely less important?"

"Less important? You lied! And for someone who's supposed to be incredibly smart your completely oblivious to the obvious."

"Omitted information," he chuckles, "same as you. Don't deny it Mel."

She plays a bit with the pen on the table. She isn't laughing anymore. 

"You okay?"

She looks upward at him and forces a small smile. "Good. Sorry."

The thought of cramped offices and itineraries color coded for her every second make her a bit frustrated. How many years had she lost out on being kept to facts and not feelings. Just architecture schematics and monthly data plans, no room for family or time or anything other than cash and improvements. 

"Nothing to be sorry about," he shrugged and picked up his bag, "Thank you, again."

"It was meant for you, completes the look now that you're a big business man."

"Well, It's just one presentation, I wouldn't want to leave here. I guess, I don't really have anything to stay for."

Mel frowns a little and pulls at her sleeve, "I'd miss you, if you left."

He stands a bit awkwardly and looks down at the bag, the words leaving his lips before he can restrain them, "Would you?"

Quiet fills the room for a moment as she watches him. 

"Josh, you have no idea how important you are do you? Really, you're incredible. I've never seen anybody as dedicated to helping people, who cared so much. And with everything you've gone through- you're amazing. Geeze I think about it all the time. I don't think I would have made it through half the stuff you've had to go through. I'm always going to be here Josh whether you change jobs or not. You're not ever going to get rid of me. I'm always here for you. So yeah, I'd miss you. A whole lot. I finally have someone who gets all of this stuff, really gets it, and, you're a great friend. And the most intelligent man I think I'll ever know quite frankly. I- had chosen you a long time ago. I made a promise to myself when it comes to you, and I plan to stick to it. Cause it's different, with you. I guess. It's like your just a part of how I work now."

She looks up and a sick feeling sets in her stomach. She'd talked a bit too freely and now he was watching her with an expression that looked between horror stricken and shocked. Her gaze catches sight of slight tears edging on his eyes. He looks so tired. She has always thought tears were sacred, a physical manifestation of inner pain.

"He doesn't believe it," she thinks to herself, her heart breaking in two as she looks to her friend, "he doubts."

"Stupid onion salad for lunch," he laughs wiping his nose on his sleeve and giving a small sniffle. "Geeze, I knew I should have gone with the olives."

The lines in her brow deepen, sorrow seeping into her usual cheerful features. All the effort she took that morning, the minutes of trying to decide which shirt to wear, they all seem so trivial. Here she stands, her sweater fraying at the sleeves, her jean pockets slightly untucked as something in her thought process snaps and changes direction for just a moment.

She understands.

She sees the thousands of lines, the cause-effect designs. He's cried in front of her ten times before and yet this truly feels like the first time she's seen what's behind the grief. She is well aware now that she has to find an excuse for him to leave if the room gets too full or too loud. She knows to keep him from being inside too long, from watching too much news or reading too many text books. Not to mention JJ.

She sees all of it all at once, and within a moment she realizes she's the only one who does.

She realizes some small part of her, some circuit board and wiring technique is the same. Here he is- he who gives all to return little, loves all for nothing.

"Who was the freak who even thought to put stupid onions on a salad anyway," he mutters through a breaking voice, "They just- they taste bad. They-"

As if by some unseen force, her hand is drawn to his cheek. She feels it now, what the eyes can not see- the steady streams of sorrow that run to the floor. Constantly, everyday, pain. The uncontrollable tensed clench of anxiety as he pushes his tongue against the roof of his mouth. The constant stimuli of overwhelming emotions that internally stab and fight his mind.

"Josh," she says sternly.

"And It's all your fault you know, getting me started on those stupid salads-"

"Are you alright?"

"I've started putting raisins on everything just because you said they're good for fiber and minerals. What does that even mean? People just say that stuff so they won't be judged for eating unhealthy the week after. It's idiocy who even cares-"

"Joshua."

He glances to her hand in confusion, only just now feeling its presence.

She has never said his name before, at least not like this.

"Yeah?" he asks with a frown, "Are you okay?"

It's a small change, a different sense of caring. She adores the way his brown curls frame a frowning forehead and noble brow. She loves the way his button downs always are unironed and creased near the pocket where he sets his laptop on his chest during late nights. But it's more than that, it's the way he listens so intently when she talks about shows and art, history and life even when he doesn't exactly agree or understand. The way sometimes he drowsily sends a voicemail with late night ramblings on the globe theaters genius in architecture or some long winded rant on a new programming language he's going to pioneer someday. Little things, doors held open, shared smiles, exchanging concepts as if swapping gears and keys. Waters refilled from the fridge without asking and html documents half filled out with no aim but to give time- how long have they been adding up? 

She frowns at the silence, and the air conditioner which was so refreshing ten minutes gave a breeze, suddenly making her hands cold and frigid.

It was a stupid idea, one she would ditch immediatly. It was too risky and Josh still seemed fragile in that sense.

It has gone long enough without being said however, without being utterly and blatantly understood.

It seems inevitable. The only reasonable next line, the only logical conclusion.

She takes a deep breath and steps closer against her will, his eyes widening bewildered. Though he dare not believe his heart quickens a bit, the expression on her face one he finds unfamiliar, uncertain.

"What?" he laughs a little nervously. 

She rises to her tippy toes, grabs him by the shirt collar and presses her lips to his cheek for half a millisecond. Blatantly honest as always, he tries to deny the fact.

If- ; Can't be, wouldn't be, shouldn't be.

Then: Can't be, it just can't.

But it is isn't? 

It's important. 

He feels the anxiety melt away as she sits beside him in awkward silence, every black and cloudy doubt wiped white as winters snow. She is light itself, warm, vibrant, and alive. And there she is. There's a tingling on the edge of his fingertips that he can't solve. A strange throbbing of his heart against his ribcage. The relief that what had been, what was wanted had been resolved. No yield sign, no Autumn, no callous, no pain. Just an endless feel of green, and Mel.

For once, without secondary confirmation required- his Mel. 

Eventually her converse scatter like dropped coins on the floor, retreating defeated, but hesitant as if they had something to stay for. Something to hope.

"I'm sorry," she stammers, "I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

He stares blankly.

"It's over," A twinge in her heart cries as she looks to his blank face, "You've ended it all."

Josh stands vulnerable as his hand tenses, counting off options in prime numbers and erratic rhythms that no longer seem to have a beat. There seems to be no sequence to follow.

She looks away in horror, guilt, perhaps even shame. She never in a thousand years would have done that, not ever. She shouldn't have done it she thinks, she'll regret it for the rest of her life.

This is what she gets for going of instinct, Josh is right people should think more.  They stand facing each other, frowning slightly in the silence, both lost in thoughts and analysis, paperwork and deciphering. And then both walk away alone and tired, the way they're supposed to.

And yet her terror is silenced as a laugh of disbelief comes from his corner. A smile, simple and innocent enough. He paces a little from one side to the other, feet tracing small repetitions on the carpet and rocking arch to heel. But it's there- a bit of joy it's unmistakable. The look he gets when he finds something new, when something clicks and makes sense and he's won.

A small shocked expression overtakes her. A moment of surprise as she looks to him and realizes this is what he's known far longer than she. A secret that had been well kept even from himself for ages. An understanding, that she has integrated herself permentaly into his life and thoughts. He's dependent on her for oh so many things, but above all else; any happiness, any peace comes from Melanie Steele and her alone.

Relieved and a bit confused she smiles back too, waiting. Watching to see what next. Josh always knows what's next, what's reasonable, what's logical.

For a moment, he thinks this smile must be the most angelic, the most perfect of all times.

How could it not be? It was hers.

---------------

He walks into Steele Industries, his pulse still fast. He had run the entire way, his converse splattered with the water of puddles he hadn't bothered to avoid. He couldn't remember ever feeling like this, not in his entire life. Swiping the badge doesn't seem to be anything more than an action, the building just brick and mortar. It's odd, he doesn't remember making his way to Jacob Steeles office, he doesn't remember the people he passes or the door numbers and their sequences. Now there just seems to be the sunlight, some song in the back of his head and a feeling of complete and utter glee.

"Mr. Steele."

"Yes?"

"I think- I think I will take that job if it's still available. Please."