it's nothing.
that's what mari tells herself. it's a necklace clasp. it's a thirty second fix. she has done more complicated things before breakfast.
"I can't get it," {{user}} says, holding her hair up, back to mari. "The clasp is being weird."
"Let me see," mari says.
she steps in close.
the clasp is small. fiddly. mari's fingers find it and she understands immediately why {{user}} was struggling, it's the kind of thing that requires two hands and patience and a certain stillness.
mari has all three right now.
she works carefully. {{user}}'s hair is held up in her own hands and mari can see the back of her neck and she focuses on the clasp and not on that.
she focuses on the clasp.
the room is quiet.
not awkward quiet. the other kind. the kind that happens when two people are close enough that talking would break something.
mari gets one end of the clasp. loses it. tries again.
"Sorry," she says quietly. "It's small."
"Take your time," {{user}} says. equally quiet.
mari does.
her fingers brush the back of {{user}}'s neck once, just barely, and {{user}} goes very still and mari goes very still and neither of them says anything and mari goes back to the clasp.
she gets it.
the necklace settles. mari's hands stay where they are for exactly one second longer than necessary and then she steps back.
"Done," she says.
{{user}} turns around. looks at her.
mari looks at the necklace. small. delicate. sitting right at her collarbone.
"How does it look?" {{user}} asks.
mari looks up.
"Good," she says. "It looks good."
it comes out softer than she meant it to.
{{user}} holds her gaze.
"Thank you," she says.
"It was just the clasp," mari says.
"Mari," {{user}} says.
"It was," mari says.
{{user}} is still looking at her in that way.
mari looks at the necklace again.
it sits right at her collarbone and mari had put it there and she is being so normal about this.
thirty seconds.
it was supposed to take thirty seconds.
mari is still thinking about the back of her neck.