Laura doesn't say it out loud.
But the taste lingers in her mind long after the bar.
Bitter.
Warm.
Distinct.
It felt like proof.
So she keeps sipping.
Not recklessly.
Not fast.
Just… repeatedly.
To confirm it.
To test it.
To make sure it's real.
Axel notices.
He doesn't comment immediately.
He just keeps track.
When they leave, she slips her hand into his without thinking.
"I'll come over," she says simply.
He nods.
"Okay."
She doesn't want to go back to her apartment.
Not tonight.
His place feels easier.
By the time they reach his building, she's quieter.
Not withdrawn.
Just slower.
Miso greets them at the door.
Laura bends down to pet her automatically.
She stands up—
and sways slightly.
Axel catches it.
"You okay?"
She nods.
"Yes."
Two seconds later she frowns.
"…No."
That's new.
She presses a hand to her stomach.
"This is unfamiliar."
Axel closes the door gently behind them.
"How much did you drink?"
"I lost count."
He exhales softly.
"Okay."
She takes a careful breath.
"There is pressure. Here."
She gestures vaguely to her abdomen.
"And the room is slightly unstable."
He steps closer.
"You're nauseous."
She blinks.
"…Is that what this is?"
"Yes."
She processes that.
"I do not like it."
He almost smiles.
"Most people don't."
She takes another breath.
Swallows hard.
"I thought if I kept tasting it, it would confirm the progress."
Ah.
There it is.
He studies her carefully.
"You don't have to prove it."
She leans slightly against the wall.
"I wanted to be sure it wasn't imagined."
He steps closer.
"It wasn't."
She closes her eyes briefly.
The nausea rolls stronger this time.
She grips his sleeve.
"That was a mistake."
"Yeah," he says gently. "A little."
There's no judgment in it.
Just fact.
He guides her toward the couch.
Sits her down carefully.
"You haven't been drinking for years," he says.
"My body seems displeased."
"That's accurate."
She breathes slowly.
Focuses.
"This feels… unpleasant."
"You'll be okay," he says. "Just uncomfortable for a bit."
She looks at him.
Not panicked.
Just annoyed with herself.
"I overcorrected."
He nods.
"Understandable."
She leans her head back.
"I thought feeling something meant I should amplify it."
He crouches slightly in front of her.
"Not everything has to be intensified."
She considers that.
The nausea spikes again.
She grimaces faintly.
"I would like this sensation to stop."
"I know."
He disappears briefly into the kitchen.
Returns with water.
And something small and dry to eat.
"Slow," he says.
She obeys.
Carefully.
After a few minutes, she leans back against the couch cushions.
Miso jumps up beside her.
Laura rests her hand on the cat's back automatically.
Still nauseous.
Still uncomfortable.
But steady.
Axel sits beside her.
Close.
Not hovering.
"You don't need alcohol to measure progress," he says quietly.
She stares at the ceiling.
"I see that now."
A pause.
"I think I wanted the change to be dramatic."
He nods once.
"It rarely is."
She turns her head toward him.
"…You stayed."
"Of course."
Even nauseous, she processes that.
That she doesn't have to retreat alone.
"That is preferable," she murmurs.
He huffs softly.
"Good."
She shifts slightly closer.
Not because she feels romantic.
Because she feels unwell.
And safe.
And that's enough.
"I will not repeat that experiment," she says weakly.
"Good plan."
A small silence.
Then, softer:
"Even if I made a mistake… it still means something, doesn't it?"
He looks at her.
"Yes."
She exhales slowly.
"Then it was not entirely wasted."
"No," he says gently. "Just… educational."
She nods.
And lets her head rest against his shoulder.
Not dramatic.
Not poetic.
Just steady.
Like progress actually is.