Ash stares at the thousand pieces shattered across the floor. The laughter died after the ear-piercing crash of the vase hitting the floor. Ash’s neck stings with embarrassment, nerves, and lastly, guilt.

He broke Àmir’s beloved vase.

It’s like the thought alone is enough to summon the man. Ash has to tell himself to breath as Àmir kneels beside him quietly.

Inhale. Exhale. Damnit.

Ash falters in his breathing technique, usually used to quell his anger, not doing so great to quell his nerves. He peeks a glance at Àmir who’s reaching for a piece.

“‘Mir,” Ash exhales. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to break it.”

Àmir looks to him then. “It’s okay.” He sets a hand on Ash’s shoulder. Don’t worry about it.” He flashes Ash a small smile. No concealed anger, no contempt, not even the subtle signs of ‘we’ll talk later’. Nothing. Ash moves to help grab recoverable pieces too. Beside him Àmir is quiet,but Ash feels something is off. Behind them, their friends carry on their own conversations awkwardly then forcibly keep talking until it’s natural. Ash feels slightly better with the background noise, it widens the world back out to the friendly get together and not Ash’s monumental screw up.

In the mist of the conversation, just as Ash leaves to retrieve a broom for the more unfortunate pieces, Rashi comes over discreetly. He starts a conversation with Àmir in their native language. Ash doesn’t need to be fluent to know Rashi is doing a rain check, asking Àmir if he’s alright. Hot embarrassment furls in Ash’s stomach, that’s a question he should’ve asked Àmir himself.

Eventually the floor is clean, and the get-together comes to an end. Everyone bids their goodbye, and Ash is the last to go. He apologizes again.

“It fine.” Àmir dismisses with a soft smile. “Don’t worry about it.” Then he frowns. “You’re not staying over?”

That was the initial plan but Ash couldn’t bring himself to do it, not after…. “No…”

Àmir dawns a knowing look, but doesn’t say anything about it. “Alright. Goodnight, Ash.”

“Goodnight, Àmir.”

He leaves, and Àmir’s words, ‘don’t worry’, bounce around in his head. Despite the reassurance, Ash thinks of every way possible to repair that vase to make it up to him.

Its two weeks after the incident Ash has the opportunity to retrieve the porcelain pieces without Àmir around to see him. He only gets his key into the lock when the door is opening on its own and scaring Ash within an inch of his life. His swears colorfully trying to yank his key away to dash down the hall, then swears with relief when Rashi steps out instead.

“Ash! Y’scared me. Thought you were ‘Mir.” Rashi deflates, shifting a bit. “What’re you doing?”

Ash squints at him. “Nothing. What are you doing here?”

“Nothing.” They both hum at each other, akin to the way one hums when calling out a lie but playing along anyway. One long, drawn out hum later, Rashi shifts and bids Ash farewell.

Two months after the incident, their friends have another get-together. Ash arrives first, cause after weeks trying to find an identical vase, and more weeks trying to find places that can repair them, Ash decided he would just ask Àmir where he got the vase from, and come clean about his worrying. Secrets weren’t for him, that was Àmir’s thing.

When Ash arrived, with a box containing a slice of shortcake for Àmir, he nearly dropped it upon it seeing the new vase. It looked like the old one, but there was gold highlighting it cracks, but joining the remaining pieces together. Luckily, Àmir was there to save the box before that became the second momental screw up at the apartment.

“What….?” Ash trails off, staring at the vase.

“You worried over it, didn’t you?” Àmir sets the cake aside. “Even when I said not to.”

“How could I not?” Ash huffs. “Why fix it like this?”

Àmir smiles. “I think it looks better like this, its more beautiful with its scars and flaws shown.” Àmir goes to grab the vase, then brings it back to Ash. “That said. I want to give this to you. Let it be a symbol of what we came from and where we are now.”

Ash looks down at the vase. “Okay.”

He stares at the gold between white, highlighting the cracks but enhancing its strength. He embraces the symbolism.