Arlo watched with careful eyes as Shanley spun around from her position on the stool, his breathing somewhat hitching in response as she became the sole focus of his vision. No matter the years that passed between them, she still looked the same, shorter hair perhaps, but she still retained this sense of light and glow about her - one that he’d been able to place upon their very first encounter back in middle school. Truth be told, he hadn’t been expecting her to be here this summer, it was his year after all, wasn’t it? Even despite the tragedy that occurred in recent weeks, although maybe that was why she’d come. She hadn’t anticipated for him to arrive after the news broke. Immediately, he was reminded of the bouquet of flowers that’d been delivered to his family home - the note that had been scrawled across the card, and although it wasn’t her writing, it being that of some local flower shop attendee’s, it still carried the same weight - one that left his whole body wracking from the sobs that sounded from him. He’d wanted to call her then, but of course, he was at a loss for words then, as he was now, as he had been the dozens of times he’d wanted to call her in the years prior. How was he to begin when there was so much go off of? Perhaps, there was a saving grace in her clumsiness, something he hadn’t soon forgotten, despite their absence. “Let me,” He begins, the words leaving him faster than he is able to process them. As he drops the contents in his possession onto the kitchen counter, Arlo utilizes his free hand, grasping for a few sheets of paper towels before scurrying onto the other side of the kitchen island. Bending his knees, the man lowered himself to the ground, blotting at the mess of coffee staining the floor. He should’ve taken their close proximity into account, and it was likely that he would have - that being if she hadn’t spilled the contents of her beverage. But perhaps that was the perfect guise? Him now being able to mask his attempt to feel a sense of comfort in her presence ( despite being the most undeserving of it after all these years ) by a means of being helpful. “Got it,” He assures her, utilizing the cup to scoop at the remaining cubes of ice scattered across the floor - his casted arm seeming to be beneficial in this instant as it aids him in doing so. As the last bit of coffee soaks into the paper towel, Arlo rises - no longer able to justify his closeness, as he moves back around, dropping the spoiled contents into the trash before moving back to the fridge. His movements are quick, despite his casted arm slowing him down, but it’s not enough to cause any true delay as he reaches for the ingredients he’d need: cold brew, almond milk and hazelnut syrup. Ingredients that he’d never admit to purchasing himself when at the store earlier in the day - not even necessarily out of the hopes that she’d be attending this summer. It was a habit at this point, one that he hadn’t gotten past since the years prior. He isn’t sure what to say, not as he’s holding her coffee in his hand, nor as he’s setting it before her, so he remains quiet - moving back around to tend to the stove without much of another word or noise uttered. “Hungry?” He presses after a moment of shared silence, unsure if she’s even still there behind him, but he can’t stop himself from asking, can’t stop himself from attempting to find another reason in an attempt to persuade her to stay.
She’s completely flustered as she’s bent over, staring at the cup and spilt coffee on the floor. She was making no effort to clean it, assuming this was buying her time before she had to stand up and face him again. But before she could even reach for the cup, Arlo was already beside her, handling it all himself. Perhaps he wasn’t so different, at least this act was the Arlo she once knew: coming in to save her from her mess. She should have insisted she cleaned it up herself, but she’s speechless. She doesn’t move as he continued to clean, they hadn’t been this close to each other in years. Even if this wasn’t exactly the way she would have wanted him close, she was going to take it. She stands up just as he does, nodding slowly as they moved back to the opposite sides of the kitchen island. Her brows raised as he began to take out ingredients...He couldn’t be? Three years later, he still remembered something so small like how she took her coffee. Or those just happened to be the only ingredients in the fridge. She couldn’t allow herself to read into these small acts so deeply, those thoughts would only cause more damage. She watched as he poured the cold brew then the almond milk and a few pumps of syrup. Her lips pressed together as he hands her the coffee. “Thanks.” She was puzzled. He was doing these things without hesitation and yet he seemed as though he could barely look at her. She takes a small sip of her coffee, setting it down in front of her as she swallowed the liquid slowly. It reminds her of mornings they shared together, back when he would have a cup waiting for her as he was picking her up for school then to their visits in college where he’d always have coffee ready as soon as she woke up. She sighed, rubbing her thumb against the side of her cup. Now he’s turned away, saying nothing to her and she’s not sure whether or not to take that as a get out. She probably should leave but she stands still, her hands gripping the cup as she waited for his next move. The silence between them only making her feel as though she shouldn’t be there. Finally, he says something and her eyes shift to the back of his head, “Yes.” she fibbed, the woman had found herself something to eat once she had landed but she had no intention of leaving the kitchen and she could only hope he didn’t want her to leave either. But she knew it was more likely he was just trying to be polite. Either way, she was going to use this as a reason to stay. She pulls out the stool from under the counter and sits down. “What..” she began, clearing her throat, “What are you making?”
