There was something about having to survive that bonded them together. It was a thought that always presented itself whenever he was in Catalina’s presence; something that had somehow become a part of them— or whatever it was that they had. They were both drowning in their own way, struggling to so much as gather a mouthful of oxygen over the tars of their various conflicts but this connection that they’d had it was inexplicable; brought more chaos than comfort into their lives— and yet they continued on, with no reward in the end.
It was still surreal to be around her again too. But he played it off, acted like the anger didn’t appear like a blinding haze whenever another man gave her bedroom eyes or shamelessly flirted with her. He was not a jealous man. He knew better than to have ever claimed anyone as his— especially her— and yet still… Mateo fought to catch a glimpse at her every time she wasn’t in his field of vision, to observe, instead focusing on the insanity that was karaoke night, servicing the young college girls who had become enamored at the sight of him—“fresh meat? good. how about I buy you a drink as a welcome gift?”— while he played his part to ensure his tips. Smiling when needed, pretending to be amused and generally interested in these stranger’s mundane bullshit.
By the time things had started settling down he decided to settle at the far right end of the bar, arms crossed over his chest, lost in his own thoughts as he eyed the stage. He caught sight of her approaching through his peripheral first but didn’t turn to face her until she finished her question— and didn’t answer until he weighed the pros and cons. “Yeah,” He replied, eyes settling on her own. Despite knowing that Catalina was more than capable of handling herself, he had never been comfortable with the thought of her roaming around on her own so late at night. Not that he’d ever admit as much. “after this shit show, you’ll probably need the help anyway.”
Though her relationship with Mateo — if one could call it such — was more confusing than most, Catalina wouldn’t have traded it for the world. He had often been her person in the darkest of times, even though their bickering could be compared to that of children on a playground. They were both damaged; dragged by this world and pounded on by unthinkable events. Broken pieces that fit together in some twisted fate.
Even when they’d found themselves torn apart — by Mateo’s own fault or decision — life often had different ideas for the pair. Everything seemed a little less lonely with him here. Especially when she found herself entrapped behind a wooden bar, forced to listen to atrocious singing. Then again, when he wasn’t in her life for those unbearable years, she also didn’t have to watch various women fawn over the male. Though it had been a week, she could feel her patience wear thin when it came to them showcasing their assets by bending over the bar. Nevertheless, she would never admit her displeasure with the way his gaze flickered down, or a small lift of his lips was present — even though she soothed her worries with the belief that he did so for the tips.
As her hair was pulled and tugged, the brunette’s arms fell to her side. His eyes were just as dark as she remembered, his jaw as defined and angular, lips seemingly as delicious as she remembered them. It had been mere days, but she’d awoken to his face and forced herself to memorize each line and curvature of his mountainous form. After all, each day could be their last as she never knew with him. While she offered, he often took. It was the nature of their relationship. “Good,” she moved closer to him in order to bring her lips to his ears without hesitation. “There’s a guy that comes here every night and he won’t let me alone. Do you mind grabbing him. I really don’t want to deal with him.” Her gaze widened, almost in a conscious puppy dog look. “Be good. No blood,” she whispered, knowing just how heated he could get and how cocky the other male often was.
