Chapter Text
The typically-bustling street is relatively quiet, given the time of night. The dark asphalt stretches out ahead, lined by lush trees whose branches curl protectively into a green arch overhead. Sayori usually keeps the windows up, but what the heck, it’s basically spring now. The air, although cooled by the setting of the sun, is still crisp and delicious. Happy Friday to her. She drinks in the breeze slowly, parched for clean air.
It’s vanilla-flavored air, she decides privately, casting a knowing smile toward the little cream-colored tree hanging from the rearview mirror. What, as if she would’ve chosen anything else! Lemon is Monika’s thing. And… alright, yes, this is Monika’s car, but they’ve run through so many air fresheners in its time that it’s truly seen a bit of everything.
Sayori eases onto the brake as she pauses at a red light. It had taken a while to adjust to this car, but she got the hang of it. It’s a miracle Monika trusted her… While they can both easily get to their respective schools on foot or through public transportation, the hospital that Sayori has hands-on class lessons at is tricky to get to and from given the odd hours she’s there. Not to mention her occasional need to scurry off to one appointment or another.
She drums her finger tips against the wheel, turning to glance out the window briefly just as the light flickers to green-ish blue. These streets may not be the same ones she’d wandered in her youth, but they could’ve fooled her. And they do, sometimes. The houses here are so similar in some areas that Sayori occasionally has to do a double take, as she does this evening, just to make sure she hadn’t taken a wrong turn at the train station and wound up at her parents’ house. It never is, of course, but her mind can’t help playing tricks on her. It never could.
She rolls the steering wheel through her palms, rounding the corner to the street that connects to her own. It’s a familiar motion, one engraved in her mind. After this, it’s just straight for a few minutes or so, then a left. Getting to this point is comforting. It means she’s almost home.
For a long time, home had been far, far away. The pain is dulled now, softened by time and eroded in her mind’s eye, but she knows better than to write it off. It had been a very long year and a half away from her love; the longest of her life, with everything going on. Sayori continues along down the street. Yep—this is her. She can see the lights on in her little house, illuminating it in a homey, yellow glow. An electric candle flickers in the window. Home. Isn’t she lucky to have a place like this? Isn’t she lucky to have survived long enough to be where she is right now? What she wouldn’t give to have five minutes with her younger self, to put a hand on her shoulder and tell her, with complete certainty: You will be okay. Do you understand me? Don’t you dare give up.
Sayori is flat out exhausted, but focusing on her destination always helps. Her destination has always been, and will always be, Monika. Before she heads in, she checks herself in the car mirrors; she does look tired, but not too tired, hopefully. She doesn’t like worrying Monika.
The cedar door is already ajar once she’s parked, and she can smell something inviting wafting from the kitchen. Oh, my love. Sayori’s face breaks into a grin. I’m home. This has been her normal for a little under two years now. After their respective graduations, she and Monika had decided on colleges within twenty minutes of one another and, during their first year, managed to track down the place that they now call home. They moved in the following summer. It’s nestled right in between their schools and in their opinion, it couldn’t be more perfect.
Inside, Monika stands with her back to the door, facing the stove. She’s carefully stirring a pot with something steaming inside. Even from behind, she’s the most gorgeous girl Sayori has ever seen in all her life. Her hair, still in a ponytail, is tied back with its usual soft green ribbon, one Sayori had given to her as a graduation present. Swept up in Monika, she lets herself stare. Can you really blame her if she’s extra quiet taking off her shoes, simply to relish in this uninterrupted moment for a little while longer?
Sayori delicately hooks the ring of keys, complete with a battered and worn Shiba Inu keychain, onto the peg by the door. When she notices Monika is humming softly to herself, her heart skips and she can’t bear to keep her arrival a secret anymore.
“Oh, I’m so glad to see you,” Sayori says at last, making her presence known before hugging Monika tightly from behind. “My baby! How were classes?”
“Sayo!” Monika’s face lights up. She places down her spoon in favor of holding onto Sayori’s arms, swaying like the peaceful rocking of a boat. “Mm, school was good, mostly. I have some reading to do before Monday, but it shouldn’t take long. Would you like to join me?”
“Always.” Sayori kisses her softly on the forehead.
“How about you?” Monika tilts her head so that it rests in the hollow between Sayori’s neck and shoulder.
Sayori’s lips quirk into an almost-smile, just tense enough to be noticeable. “Clinicals are clinicals,” she says, stifling a yawn. Monika pecks her on the cheek and turns back to stir her pot of tofu stew. “Looks good, chef Moni!”
“It’s almost done… Aha, it was supposed to be done when you got home, I know how long these days can get for you.” By the tone of her voice, it’s clear that long holds more weight than what meets the eye. Monika breaks the embrace, turning back to the stew. “I hope it’s good, you’re a far better chef than I am. Now go grab the bread for me or sit down, you goof.”
It’s true what Monika had said, Sayori muses, retrieving the small loaf from the counter. Long day. Clinicals are certainly not easy, especially when it comes to psychology. Sayori is proud of her studies, she’s proud of the field she wants to join, but jeez it can be difficult at times. She tries not to think about the nights she’d returned home barely containing her tears, or the ones where Monika had held her hand all throughout dinner just to coax a few bites in. Everyone had said ‘are you sure?’ when it came to her college announcement. Her answer has always been, and will always be yes. Because there are people out there like her, people who deserve help, people who don’t know where to begin or how to get out. It’s her responsibility to be a part of the change.
“Lost in thought?” Monika sets down two mismatched bowls, placing a dish of roasted vegetables in the center of the table along with two smaller plates.
“How can you tell?” Sayori asks, but Monika has always been able to see right through her. She sighs, swirling the stew slowly. “Ehe. Well, I drove past another one of those houses that I thought was mine.”
Monika hums, braving a mouthful of the steaming liquid after blowing on her spoon for a second. “Want to talk about it?”
But Sayori shakes her head. “Nah. I’d rather just enjoy the meal my perfect girlfriend,” she taps Monika on the nose, “lovingly made me. Thank you baby, if I didn’t say that already. You have no idea how nice this is to come home to.”
“Oh… I bet I have some idea.”
Isn’t it remarkable how a life can change?
They toast marshmallows over the gas stove, twin fluffy pillows of sugar skewered on unused chopsticks. This, Sayori thinks, is the absolute height of luxury. Her and Monika, cozied up by their little oven, in the dead of night while the rest of the world dozes. Monika has used the ribbon to tie her hair up into a bun, and god, it makes Sayori’s heart hammer. Distracted by the fantasy and the girl beside her, her marshmallow dips into the flame and promptly catches on fire.
“No, no, I meant to do that,” Sayori explains, puffing out the flame. It’s a little burnt, but nothing crazy—still, Monika laughs her head off. Defiant, Sayori pops it into her mouth. “Mm. Sho good!”
“I heard it crunch.”
“Fibber.”
It’s dark in the kitchen, the only light coming from the hallway and a single burner on the stove. Sayori is captivated by the way the light dances across her Monika’s face. She holds another marshmallow over the fire, determined to properly toast it and make a s’more. Monika has already successfully made and eaten one, while all she’d achieved was making a delicious torch and nearly singeing her hair off.
“Look,” Sayori says after a minute, presenting Monika with her s’more, a perfectly browned marshmallow squished between a piece of chocolate and two graham crackers. It crunches when she bites into it, because this time it’s supposed to. “‘S perfect.”
Monika swats her arm affectionately. “Chew with your mouth closed.”
With a s’more-y grin, Sayori plants a kiss of sugar on Monika’s lips before she swallows properly. “Yes, boss.”
Even though Sayori is well into recovery by now, a part of her still feels funny when she arrives in the bathroom for her shower. She discreetly sniffs her shirt—yeah, she needs it. It’s just that… Sayori shifts her weight between her feet, trying desperately not to think about what she’d seen hours earlier. Psychology is hard. Harder if you’ve personally experienced some of the things you’re witnessing.
“Everything okay, honey?” Monika is behind Sayori, wrapping her arms around her gently. They stand there together in the bathroom, listening to the rush of water pouring from the showerhead. The lights in here are so bright, too bright. It’s all too familiar. Does it really smell like sterilizer in here, or is she imagining it? Everything was perfect before now, almost normal.
Sayori tries to say that yes, everything is alright, but she can’t bring herself to. Something about the spring air and the sound of running water has her stomach knotted up like a tangled ball of loose yarn. She’s sixteen years old again, horrified at herself, falling headfirst into the mirror. She’s thirteen going on fourteen and she’s… she’s powerless to stop what happens next, just like she’d been powerless to help that girl earlier, because what can you do with a case like that? What can you say to help? Nothing.
“Hey.” Monika takes Sayori’s face in her hands.
Monika had helped. Sayori remembers that as plain as day. So why isn’t she the one trying to fix other people’s problems? She’s better at it, always has been. It’s hard to turn off her emotions with Monika’s warm hands pressing against her skin oh-so gently. She can’t meet her eyes. What has changed, really, between then and now? She’s still in this limbo, recovered most of the time, just not all the time. Better on the surface, just maybe not through her core. Not yet. Most of the time, she feels like it was all a bad dream. Then, on occasion, she wonders whether she’d ever woken up.
But Monika is here, holding her, and Sayori knows she has. She’s awake now. She’s in Monika’s arms, clutching her for dear life, unable to even explain why she’s like this all of a sudden. Everything was fine, everything is fine. It’s just… she doesn’t know. Most of the time she’s twenty-year-old Sayori. But when the right buttons are pressed, when the right factors come into play, she’s a kid in a hospital room all over again. An orange cage. Her breath comes out ragged.
“Come on, you,” Monika murmurs, dimming the lights and guiding Sayori carefully toward the shower. “I’ll wash your hair, okay?”
Sayori nods numbly, her mind a blank slate. “Okay.”
So Monika undresses, helps Sayori do the same, and they stand beneath the scorching water. She doesn’t complain once about the temperature. It’s not their first time doing this, after all. It happens less and less often, but less doesn’t mean never. Why don’t people understand that? The burning water pelts down on Sayori’s skin, soaking her straight through to the bone. Hopefully it will be never, someday.
Monika gently massages shampoo into her hair, just as choppy and all over the place as it’s always been, but no longer shedding. Sayori shivers beneath her touch despite the heat, feeling the tips of her fingernails softly scratching against her scalp. The anxiety in her body begins to melt like candle wax, softening first, then dripping away.
It’s better with Monika. Always has been. Being with her like this is the most natural thing in the world, which is beyond crazy to her. This domestic? This vulnerable? Surely not. But then… it is. And she likes it. It’s been a learning curve, just like everything in life usually is, starting out as really hard and ending up as one of her favorite things. The first time it had been proposed, for example…
“N-No!” Sayori’s fists are balled up, the words spewing out before she can stop herself. The look on Monika’s face says it all. They’ve only been here, what, a week? Two? And after all this time waiting for this moment to finally come, she’s already screwed everything up. The worst part is, she wishes she could say yes. It’s just a shower. But she’s… “I’m sorry, Moni, I didn’t mean to snap. Not no, j-just… Not yet. I’m not sure I’m okay with…”
—you seeing me like this, her mind fills in despite itself. It’s been a while since the last time. That’s all. She turns her face, jaw tense.
Monika, lovely wonderful Monika, simply takes Sayori in her arms. Then she nods. “Of course, I’d never force you into anything.”
How times change. Sayori, putty in Monika’s hands, simply lets herself be loved. That’s not to say it’s easy, just… easier than it used to be. She’s more comfortable in herself. It’s something that’s still kind of difficult to talk about, but somehow, Monika seems to know without being told. Sayori sees it in the way she looks at her when they’re like this, as bare as a person can be. She sees it in the way her gaze never lingers too long in any one place, how she always, always ends up focused back on her face. How she never fails to tell Sayori—
“You couldn’t be more beautiful,” Monika tells her, words that are as familiar and predictable and warm as the rising of the sun each morning. Her voice is scarcely audible and she doesn’t expect a reply. Never has.
One, two, three, four. Sayori breathes slowly, her eyes closed as Monika rinses the soap out. She focuses on the here and now, how kind and wonderful Monika is, the things she can hear, feel, and smell. Her hair is slick against her head. The room is steamy, and it smells of flower petals and sugar cookies. She can hear Monika humming softly as she massages in the conditioner; it’s a tune they’ve been working on together, one that Sayori often hears her messing with on her keyboard. There’s not much space in this tiny cubicle, but right now, it feels like all she needs in the world.
The sensation of Monika carefully rubbing body wash into her back, the neglected area of skin that she so often can’t reach on her own, is almost enough to make her ears ring. Oh, how lucky she is. How loved she is.
There’s more to that first time, when Sayori had snapped at Monika for even suggesting the very thing they’ve done countless times since. A whispered conversation on top of the covers, with only the gentle lullaby of their oscillating fan to cut the silence. Outside, the world buzzed with the chattering noise of summer. But inside, all was quiet.
“You couldn’t be more beautiful, you know that?”
“Even now?”
“Oh, Sayo. More than ever. More every day.”
Like last time, the response is the same:
“Thank you,” Sayori whispers, turning toward Monika so that the water is coming at her from behind to rinse her clean, but not washing the soap from her hair yet. Something about letting conditioner ‘sit’.
The green of Monika’s eyes is so comforting. God, she’s always been stunning, but it seems like every moment she gets more and more beautiful; words she’s been on the receiving end of several hundred times. It’s unreal that she feels the same. Sayori holds Monika, hands slowly tracing her sides. Hmm. She’s awfully dry, isn’t she…?
“Moni!” Sayori gasps, realizing at once that she’s been hogging the water. “You’ve been in the cold this whole time!”
“Don’t worry, it’s hardly cold. I’m more than warm enough.” Monika tries to wave Sayori away, somewhat unsuccessfully: Check. Then she steps closer, getting Sayori back under the showerhead, and combs her fingers through her hair slowly as the water rinses it clean. Checkmate. “Let me take care of you.”
Sayori, exhausted in more ways than one, nods without protest.
They linger in the shower longer than they need to, just soaking up the feeling of being in such a small, intimate space together, despite the circumstances. Sayori sways, arms looped around Monika’s waist, successfully managing to get her girlfriend into the water. Clean and safe and warm. Still holding her, Sayori lets her eyes close again. Everything is easier with her eyes closed.
She knows she’s going to tell Monika what’s going on as soon as they get their pajamas on. She hates bringing the subject up, but she knows better than to avoid the things that scare her. When she pushes it away, when she tries to pretend she’s just tired or working too hard, Monika sees through it with uncanny ease. Sayori knows those are the nights when her beloved girlfriend’s dreams twist into ugly things, when she wakes up more tired than she had started out and her coffee mugs fill the sink the next morning. But not tonight.
“What about our…?” The end of Sayori’s question, ‘pj’s’, dies in her throat when she finds two sets of clothes folded on the counter by the sink, one cream-colored and dotted with sunflowers, the other navy. “How’d those get in here?”
“I know you,” is all Monika says.
Sayori finally gets a good laugh when she discovers that Monika’s shirt is the one that reads ‘Talk Nerdy To Me’ above a pair of glasses, a cherished part of what Sayori had coined the silly graphic tee ensemble. Remember Life is a Highway? Turns out, it wasn’t a one off. Monika seems to have a different ridiculous sleep shirt for each day. Sayori suspects privately that the collection had started growing after she voiced her love of it.
After vigorous tooth-brushing and flossing—imagine that!—the pair finally curl up in their tiny bed. Perfect-sized. Or, as Sayori calls it, ‘us-sized’. It’s just right for cozying up against Monika’s side and dozing off. She keeps Monika tucked closely to her with a steady arm, continuing the tradition that she must have at least one point of contact with her at all times. It’s nice, having arms that don’t shake. It took a long time to call them steady; she’s still a far cry from ‘strong’, but she doesn’t mind steady. She might even like it.
Still… even steady people, even strong people, sometimes have to strip back their exterior and let themselves be raw. It’s not fun. It’s a lot like removing a bandaid from a wound to put antiseptic on it, which stings and burns like all heck. But that’s the only way to really make it better, you know? You can’t just cover it if that’s not what it needs to heal. Sometimes, in a contradictory way, Sayori thinks that these moments of whispered confessions are the closest she gets to pushing the needle from steady to strong. Funny, right? She once would’ve referred to this stuff as a show of weakness. She knows better now.
“There was a girl in clinicals today,” Sayori begins carefully in a low voice, drawing Monika’s attention. She swallows, certain that her racing heart is audible, pounding like a kick drum. “I don’t know. Reminded me of myself. I wasn’t thinking about it much, or I was trying not to, but… it’s been a weird day.”
There’s a pause, one of understanding rather than empty silence. It’s the beginning of spring. No words need to be exchanged to work out why old emotions are creeping up out of the woodworks. Monika is no better; she holds onto Sayori extra tightly this time of year, like she’s terrified that she’ll wake up and have to leave again. Or, worse, that Sayori will be the one slipping away.
“I’m proud of you,” Monika whispers into the darkness of their room. Well—not total darkness. Their nightlight is plugged in by the door, glowing a gentle yellow. “You’re going to do so, so much good, Sayo.”
“Ehe, aren’t you the one who brought me back down to earth? You really think I’m cut out for this?”
“I’m certain.” Monika shuffles slightly, although it’s impossible for the two of them to get any closer. Literally impossible. She laughs lightly, fingertips grazing the soft skin beneath Sayori’s pajama shirt. “Who was the one who brought me back down to earth? You don’t give yourself enough credit. You never have. Please don’t sell yourself short.”
This is very much a matter of opinion, Sayori thinks, but she doesn’t tell Monika that. Instead, she nestles close and finally lets her exhaustion crash over her in waves. Her whole body is achy and sore. Monika’s hands sap the pain away better than any salve.
“Moni,” Sayori murmurs, barely able to keep her eyes open. Not that it matters; the glow of the night light can’t reach them. All she can see is the dark outline of Monika’s head. “Your… reading. You had stuff to do. Didn’t you?”
“Books can wait. School—” Monika presses a finger to Sayori’s lips before a ‘but’ of protest can escape them, “—can wait. I wanted to be with you tonight. Thank you for remembering, sweetheart.”
Sayori would’ve tried to put up a fight on a better day, or if it were earlier, but she finds herself giving a reluctant hum of assent. She focuses on this, instead: she remembered. She had no reason to, really. It’s nice having a brain that can think clearly more often than not, one that can retain information and help her rather than hold her back. Always ‘more often than not’, because nothing is ever one hundred percent, but to Sayori it’s just as good. Arms that don’t tremble, a brain that can think. Mirrors she can typically face without so much as a second thought.
What a privilege.
It’s a bit daunting to try and drift off. Sometimes she has nightmares. Not as much anymore, they were way worse when Monika was away. She still remembers certain ones: Once, she got stuck in a never-ending loop of waking up strapped to a cot, watching Monika walk away. In another, a recurring one, she walks into the literature to find only Yuri and Natsuki, the same question always on Natsuki’s lips: don’t you remember?
Oh, the literature club. Sayori thinks back on it fondly as she plays with stray bits of Monika’s hair, listening to the lullaby of her rhythmic breathing. Her literature club had really kept her afloat during the worst times in her life. She misses them desperately, but really they aren’t all that far away. Natsuki is a couple cities over preparing for law school, and Yuri actually attends Sayori’s university, just in nursing. But don’t worry your little head about those lovebirds, ehehe, with the train connecting the two areas, you could hardly call them long distance. Sometimes it’s Nat who comes here, bearing flowers, and Yuri, Sayori, and Monika greet her at the station. More often, Yuri takes the hike, and she and Natsuki spend their time in her dorm or the library studying together. Talk about a dynamic duo.
Monika, now sound asleep, rolls onto her back and releases Sayori from the death grip. Sayori makes sure to not lay on her arm, because it’s no fun when you wake up and they’re all floppy and numb. She tucks the blankets closely around them, then pulls the edge up to her chin as she sighs.
Her Monika. Sayori hated it when she was far away. They reunited as much as they could, but with busy lives and transportation struggles, it never felt like enough. Even without those, it probably still would’ve never felt like enough.
The club had been mostly alright without Monika, but only because ‘without Monika’ is a very loose label. They connected as often as possible through club calls and more group assignments, and even though it wasn’t the same, Sayori always looked forward to seeing her girlfriend’s beautiful face pop up on Natsuki’s—amazingly not malware-laden—laptop. There was the silence that followed after they hung up, far from fun, but Yuri and Natsuki never let it last long. They were good about that. They took Monika’s last request to heart: be with Sayori. It didn’t fix everything, but it made it bearable. Sometimes… Sometimes things even managed to slip Sayori’s mind in the hustle and bustle of her final year, especially with how Monika’s voice was there to sing her gentle lullabies and quell her worries whenever she wanted.
“Sometimes, when I listen to your music, it’s like…”
“Like I never left?”
“No, Moni. It’s never like that. But sometimes I like to pretend you’re still just down the hall.”
The hardest of those nights were the ones when she received a message from Monika asking to call, just to be with her quietly. No words needed. Sometimes, it was to prevent her from falling apart. Sometimes, evidenced by shaky, hiccuping breaths and tearful apologies, it was the aftermath. They supported each other through it all. Despite everything, they persisted.
Truthfully, Sayori is certain that she was the cause of many hard nights for Monika, too, and likely the source of countless bad dreams. Getting better isn’t linear, it never was. Even without arms to fall into, simply hearing the cadence and tone of Monika’s voice had been enough to keep her feet on the ground most of the time. Every rough patch was nothing more than a few rocks along the twisting path toward better days. And always, without fail, they persisted. Because Monika will always be the right choice. It’s a fundamental truth.
Sayori smiles wryly into the inky darkness, spooling back through her memory. This happens every year. Brains have an uncanny ability to remember anniversaries. As a present, they make sure to dig up her old memories and dusty emotions to throw in her face right when she sees the wildflowers begin to pop up. When she discovers a cherry tree in bloom, first of the season, she knows it’s not long until she’s revisiting high school in her mind all over again. The long hallways, the clanging bell. It seems so strange now that she’s in such an unstructured environment, free to choose her classes and come and go as she pleases.
Frustrated with herself, Sayori checks her phone to see what time it is. Jeez… far, far too late. It’s the small hours now, the type that creep up from behind and sink their teeth into you, refusing to let you rest once you cross the threshold from ‘tired’ to ‘overtired’. Thankfully tomorrow is Saturday, her day off from school and work and the hustle and bustle of life. She and Monika both multitask jobs with academics, doing their best to save for the future they want and support the one they have. But you need time for yourself too, you know? So Saturday it is. Not always just Saturday, but… always at least Saturday. Hehe. Saturday doesn’t sound like a word anymore.
Alright, she’s sick of this. Sayori squirms out from beneath the covers and cautiously tip-toes out of bed, around Mr. Cow and past their little bookcase, making sure Monika is still lost in dreamland. She casts a glance behind her from where she stands in the doorframe. Hopefully a peaceful dreamland. She isn’t the only one who battles nightmares, and Monika’s happen far more often. Please let her rest. She’s been doing so well.
Sayori pads to the kitchen, filling an orange and white mug to the brim with hot water and popping it in the microwave. She winces as the numbers beep beneath her fingertips, preceding the mechanical hmmmm that will continue on for a minute and a half. She almost laughs, imagining the look on Yuri’s face if she knew she still hadn’t gotten herself a kettle for brewing tea.
Hm… Yuri. Sayori muses on nothing as she watches her mug circle round and round in the humming microwave. She retrieves a tea bag from the container on the counter, which sits, of course, right beside Monika’s coffee maker. She doesn’t care what type of tea it is, she just knows that it always helps calm down her mind and settle her stomach when she can’t sleep. She fights the urge to dial Yuri’s number. While she’s a known night owl, mostly due to nursing stuff, that doesn’t mean she’s constantly awake. Sayori would hate to disturb her.
Beep. Beep. Beep. B—
Sayori retrieves her mug quickly to silence the noise, sucking in a sharp breath through her teeth as the ceramic scalds her hand. Mistake! Ouch, ouch, okay, let’s put this down now. She adds a bit of sugar before letting it rest. It’ll take another few minutes for the tea to steep, the one and only step that she now does correctly in adulthood. As she waits, she cracks a window to let some fresh air in, and takes a seat. The water is still simmering, releasing long wisps of steam as it calms down.
“Sayo,” calls a soft voice.
Sayori turns to find Monika by the kitchen’s entrance, clinging sleepily to the wall with knit eyebrows, like a child woken by a clap of thunder. A sheepish smile crosses Sayori’s face. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
Monika shakes her head, joining Sayori in the chair beside her. “No—“ She yawns widely. “Microwave.”
“So I did.”
“Uh-uh.” Monika shakes her head insistently, but her teasing smile is underscored by the circles beneath her eyes. “Microwave did.”
Sayori pushes the slightly-cooled mug of tea—ginger, she decides—toward Monika, a peace offering.
It’s quiet in the kitchen. The whole world is asleep, save for them. Nobody else exists. Outside the window, stars twinkle above and the occasional firefly flickers by. Other than that, all is still. Monika takes a sip of tea and passes the mug to Sayori, who does the same. The clock on the microwave reads two-colon-three-six.
“Do you want to pass on tomorrow?” Monika asks gently, traces of sleep no longer slurring her voice.
“Nah. ‘Course not.” Sayori shakes her head. “I want to see them. Ehe, you know, Mon, I almost considered waking Yuri up earlier. As if I won’t be literally seeing her in two seconds. It can be… you know. Like old times.”
With a little smile, Monika wraps her arm around Sayori’s shoulder and leans against her. Their chairs touch. “Mm. That’s why I asked.”
But Sayori shakes her head again, taking another mouthful of tea before offering the last sip or two to Monika. She rests her hand on the table. “I’ll be okay, as long as you are.”
Monika accepts the last bit of ginger tea. She sets it down, fiddling with Sayori’s fingers. “I will be. I miss them, too.”
Oh, Yuri and Nat. How Sayori wishes they could all be back in the same school, passing in the hallways, tongues poking out at each other childishly. She discards the tea bag and washes the mug in the sink, watching it fill up with sudsy water that spills over the lip before eventually running clear. Monika is beside her not a moment later with a towel ready. She leans forward, still drying the mug, to kiss Sayori oh-so gently. This… This is perfect. This is all she needs.
“Let’s go back to bed, my dear,” Sayori says, scooping Monika into her arms. She’d gleefully discovered she could do it about a month or two ago, but it never fails to elicit an eep! of flustered surprise from her girlfriend.
“Show-off,” Monika mumbles, red in the face, but she can’t hide her smile.
Maybe Sayori can be strong, now. Maybe she’s made it past steady. If strong means keeping Monika safe and building their future together, then maybe it’s exactly right for her. She thinks back to the days of Monika picking her up and hauling her around, days when she knew she couldn’t do the same even if she wanted to. Mind you, as much as she’d deny wanting to, she always secretly did. She wanted to give back what Monika had always provided her: Stability. Strength. Safety.
This time, once tucked securely in their cocoon of blankets, they drift off in each other's arms. Sayori doesn’t mind waking up with a numb arm. She cares about keeping Monika close to her chest, she cares about making sure she’s safe. Nothing can touch them here. Nothing at all.
Sooner than she would’ve been preferred, the sun wriggles its way through the blinds and rouses Sayori with a start. She swallows, grimacing at the taste of dusty morning breath, and rolls onto her side. When there’s nothing beside her but a dent in the mattress, her brain kicks properly into gear. That’s one way to wake her up.
“Moni?” Sayori calls in a rusty voice, combing a hand through her sleep-ruffled hair. She regrets the hours she’d spent ruminating. With a bit of effort, she manages to get herself up and out of bed. Based on the strong scent of coffee that she can smell from here, she has a pretty good guess as to where Monika may be up to.
Sure enough, Sayori discovers her girl with a cup of coffee cradled in her palms. She’s on the loveseat in their little living area, the space they jokingly refer to as the sun porch because it faces the east and gets a pretty dang good view of the sunrise. The windows are wide open, letting in air that smells pleasantly of dew and grass.
“Thought I might—” Sayori yawns, rubbing her eyes as they begin to water. She sinks down beside Monika. “Hehe. Thought I might find you here.”
Monika gives her a smile. She looks happy to see her, and amazingly seems awake, thanks to the magic of caffeine. “That predictable, huh? I’ll have to start surprising you.”
“I like you how you are, silly.”
They watch the conclusion of the sunrise together, the traces of pink and orange and gold that all eventually transition into blue. Despite how early it is, Sayori can’t help feeling a bit of a thrill at getting to witness something so magical. The fog of sleep still clouds her mind, adding an element of groggy magic to the whole thing.
“Do you want to get some more rest?” Monika asks, seeming to read Sayori’s mind as she always does, or maybe making note of how often she has to bring her fist to her mouth to swallow more yawns.
But Sayori shakes her head. “Nah, we should start getting up properly. We have plenty of time I think, but I like having a whole day, especially with you! Oh— ew, yuck, I sound like such an adult.”
At this, Monika simply giggles. Then they head to the kitchen for a breakfast of toast and orange juice, and jokingly pretend to do shots—‘bottoms up’—while taking their meds. This part of the routine always makes Sayori feel old, like the little elderly ladies bent over their fruit-shaped weekly pill organizers in the stuffy nursing home living room. But she knows it’s just what they have to do, so do it they shall. It’s only after dwelling on this for a while that she realizes, hmm, the toaster hasn’t gone off yet, has it? Then she laughs out loud with Monika as they crunch into the charred surface of their blackened toast.
It’s the best morning she’s ever had. She’s started looking forward to them.
“Is it too cold for this?” Monika asks hesitantly as they get dressed later in the day, drawing Sayori’s attention from the hangers she’d been thumbing through. She turns, expecting a pair of shorts of a tank top to be the culprit, but— “What?” Monika puts a hand on her hip, unintentionally causing the silky white dress to swirl lazily around her thighs.
“Wow,” is all Sayori can say quietly, her sweating hand still clasped around a hanger. She comes up behind Monika in the mirror a minute or so later. In her denim dress and striped shirt she feels woefully underdressed, but the look blooming on Monika’s face is enough to make her question whether the issue is it being too hot, rather than too cold. Her reflection smiles back at her despite her rosy cheeks.
They look nice, Sayori decides, beaming at the pair of them in their meticulously polished mirror. They look… better than nice. They look beautiful.
Monika glances at the alarm clock on their bedside table. They have a bit of time before they’ll have to head out, but not too much of a wait. The plan is for Natsuki to catch the train over, spend some time with Yuri until the afternoon, then meet Sayori and Monika at the picnic site they’d decided on. It’s a gorgeous day, thank god, since mercifully the talk of spring showers seems to have been unfounded. Sayori smooths her skirt absent-mindedly, satisfied with herself. Besides, even if the weather does turn, they’ll be alright. A little rain never hurt anyone.
While Sayori makes sure that her shirt is properly tucked into her dress, she watches Monika in the reflection settle down at the wooden chair by their desk and peer into the tiny mirror sat atop it. Naturally, Sayori takes this opportunity to sidle up behind her and take a seat on the arm of the chair. She likes watching Monika do her makeup, even if it’s never anything crazy—just a few dashes here and there that she’ll blend in, some eyeshadow on special days, mascara if she’s feeling fancy.
Sayori smirks at Monika’s reflection as she tries to contain a laugh. Her face is speckled with pale dots that make her look a bit like a golf ball. A beautiful golf ball! Okay, she can’t help it, she bursts out laughing and topples right off the chair onto the carpet.
“I’m not finished yet!” Monika protests, lips twitching toward a smile as she tries to stay serious. She glances at the mirror, pursing her lips, then back to Sayori on the floor. She can’t even hide her smile. “You are such… a meanie.”
“Okay, Nat,” Sayori manages between giggles, pulling herself to her feet while Monika blends in her concealer. It’s amazing how it disappears right into her skin. She knew it would, but it’s just so funny looking when it’s unblended. She plants a kiss on top of Monika’s head before gently pulling out her hair tie to redo her ponytail. “You look prettier than all the stars in the sky, Moni. You always do.”
Monika finishes up her makeup with a swipe of lipgloss, tucking the various tubes and brushes back into her pouch, as tidy as ever. Monika’s bag of tricks, as Sayori calls it, as opposed to her own just-in-case bag, which is still very much in use. Long live. Right when Sayori needs to re-tie Monika’s hair up, she realizes Monika is holding the ribbon up for her.
“Thank you! Perfect timing.”
And… done! Sayori smiles at Monika in the mirror, absolutely melting over how stunning she is. She doesn’t need makeup, never has in Sayori’s opinion, but she adores how it makes her happy and she can’t deny how pretty she is. The subtle eyeshadow makes her green eyes stand out even more, and the concealer hides any trace of exhaustion she’d shown. At Sayori’s request, she no longer covers up her freckles when she gets ‘all fancy’. Pausing, Sayori taps her index fingers together in thought.
“What are you thinking about?” Monika asks, leaning her head against Sayori, who utters a short hum in reply.
“I just… I was wondering…” Sayori trails off, amazed at how she still manages to get tongue tied around her long term girlfriend. Every once in a while she’ll find herself at their first few hang outs again, mouth dry and hands wet, not quite realizing why yet. In other words, crushing hard on her future girlfriend. “Can you do my makeup for me?” Sayori manages at last, words sticking together with how quickly she’d said it.
The brief look of surprise on Monika’s face shifts into excitement in an instant. She grabs her pouch and plops down on the floor, motioning for Sayori to join her as she rustles through the bag. They can share makeup most of the time: The only exception is in the summer, when Monika is gorgeously sunkissed and Sayori ends up with a pale outline of her sunglasses on her newly red face.
Monika takes Sayori’s face gently in her palm, holding her still as she dabs concealer beneath her eyes. Then she blends it in, gaze flickering up every once in a while. She tells Sayori to close her eyes, and a shiver runs down her spine as she complies. Oh, Monika. Sayori basks in the feeling of delicate makeup brushes tickling her skin. She has no idea what Monika is doing, and honestly she doesn’t mind at all. She trusts her with all her heart.
“How’s it looking?”
“Shh, I almost got a brush in your mouth.”
“Hehe. Oops.”
Finally, after a last swipe of something across her cheeks and nose, Monika spritzes something cool across her face and tells her she can look now. She’s holding the small mirror up in front of her.
Woah. Sayori blinks, nearly reaching to touch her face before realizing she probably shouldn’t smudge it up immediately. She’s not caked in powder or overly colorful, in fact, it’s hardly noticeable beyond the slight shimmery tint of her eyelids and how rested she looks. Monika has a delicate hand, having mastered the art of subtlety. The only thing that stands out is the glittery dusting across her cheeks and the tip of her nose, giving the impression that she herself is a part of the starry night sky.
“You made me beautiful, Moni!” Sayori chirps, half teasing, half complimenting her skill. But Monika just smiles at her, shaking her head lightly.
“You always have been. I just made you sparkly.” Monika’s words make Sayori’s stomach flip and her heart race. She drifts closer, breath grazing the bridge of her nose as she holds her chin between her thumb and index finger; then she leans in and kisses Sayori right on the lips, an action that catches her by surprise and makes her whole body feel like it’s been lit up. Her brain is fuzzy and she’s all out of air. Monika pulls away and swipes something off the side of Sayori’s mouth. “There. I forgot your lipgloss.”
Then Monika promptly gets to work braiding Sayori’s hair as if nothing had happened, although her darkened cheeks reveal the truth. Holy jeez.
Sayori’s jaw hangs slack as Monika works her fingers through little sections of hair, gently twining them together. There are butterflies taking flight in her flipping stomach, and her heart is pounding so hard that it feels like it’s pulling her out of her body into a whole other world. No words feel big enough. This stuff doesn’t happen constantly anymore, not like it used to, but oh, she could live in this type of love forever. Puppy love is fun, but this is so far beyond that. Companionate love. She’s so lucky to know what it means beyond a textbook definition.
After a moment, Monika is smoothing her fingers across the braid, announcing that she’s all done. When she leans closer to make sure all the hair is in place, Sayori kisses her on the cheek, leaving a translucent pink smudge. She’s so grateful for Monika. Never in a million years will she be able to properly express it.
“Okay, we have to get going!” Monika announces suddenly, eyebrows shooting up as she looks at the clock again. Sure enough—oh, dang!
Sayori springs up and pulls Monika up with her, grabbing their bags in a hurry as they sprint toward the door. ‘Do you have—?’ ‘Yep, got it! You got the keys?’ ‘Check! Okay, to the car!’ They clamber into the front seats of Monika’s car huffing and puffing, unable to control their peals of laughter. Monika quickly pulls into the street and heads out, still giggling along with Sayori, as they always have.
“I’m so sorry, Moni! I totally distracted us.” Sayori sinks back against the seat’s headrest, caught off guard when she feels the gentle warmth of Monika’s hand on her thigh.
“I wouldn’t change a thing.” Monika grins at Sayori with that lopsided smile of hers. The butterflies are back. “We’ll be on time, maybe five minutes late at most. Besides, when have Yuri and Natsuki complained about having extra alone time?”
As usual, Sayori can’t dispute Monika’s logic. She has this way of coming up with airtight arguments, so sure of herself and undeniably right that it’s pointless to put up a fight. Instead, she does what she always has; she rolls down the windows, and flicks on the music.
“Oh, this is a good one,” Monika exclaims.
“You made the CD, absolute dork.”
Sayori lets her hand stick out of the window. The cool, rushing air laps at her skin in the way the tide laps at the shore. She remembers listening to these same songs on her way to visit Monika, whether Yuri or herself had been in the driver’s seat. She remembers telling herself one day, you won’t have to go back home after. One day, you’ll just… be home. How she wishes she could reach out to the sad little Sayori of a few years ago, just to show her a glimpse of this moment. She’s snapped out of her thoughts by a voice. Monika is singing.
“Come on—don’t know the words, or something?” Monika teases as the music reaches a brief instrumental portion. When it gets back to lyrics, though, she’s belting them out loud and clear.
Sayori is transfixed, but manages to join in not a moment later, bopping her head along to the beat as they jam out. She mimes drumsticks and sings along, while Monika shifts between the melody and backing vocals.
The car seems to dance its way down the road, weaving and bumping along with the song. Monika’s smile is audible as she sings, and Sayori knows she’s just the same. The sun is high in the sky, warming their faces in the perfect way as the car’s air conditioning keeps them at a pleasant temperature.
As the music is winding down, preparing to transition to the next song, Monika glances over to meet Sayori’s eyes briefly. Their expressions mean the same thing. It’s not hard to understand. I’ve missed this so much. But before the next one can begin, Sayori skips ahead.
“This is my song,” Monika says, eyes widening as if she’d forgotten it was on here. Her fingers tighten on the wheel; they’re nearly there, but they should have time for the song to conclude.
“It is,” Sayori agrees. She lets the melody wash over her. Once, it had broken her heart to hear the lyrics again. She still hates thinking about how Monika had genuinely questioned if she was worth staying with.
Yet, this was Monika’s first song. The music she’d written, pencil to paper, in a practice room back in their old school. She poured her little heart into it and it shows. It’s quite incredible how time had changed the way Sayori hears it; while she grows up, the Monika on the CD stays frozen in time, filled with worries that have passed, fears that have come to life, and others that have been put to rest. Current Monika is hiding a wince. Still, the song plays on. It hurts remembering how Monika once thought she had to lose everything all at once; her hometown, her friendships, and her relationship.
Sayori longs to hold little Monika’s hand and comfort her, but she knows that she took care of that already back then. So she exhales slowly, holding Monika’s hand in the present. Softly, she sings, “What’s a poet with no subject? Or a pen dried up of its ink? With no muse, there’s no music… with no skates, what use is the rink?”
Monika lowers the volume, cheeks red and nose wrinkled. “Aha, it’s so painful listening to my own voice… You really like it? After all this time?”
As the music is dwindling, all twinkly piano and gentle hums, Sayori nods. She can see the small dirt parking area in the distance, she can see the green expanse of meadow they’ll be exploring. “I do.” Sayori squeezes her hand. “And… I guess I just wanted to put it on, ‘cause… It used to hurt. We never listen to it together. But now we’re here, and we’re still us, and I know that everything worked out.”
Smiling softly, Monika rolls to a stop beside Yuri’s Ford and shuts off the music. They can see Natsuki and Yuri sitting inside, and it’ll only be a second or two before they notice the other half of the gang has arrived.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Sayori asks suddenly, capturing Monika’s attention before they get out. Their fingertips are still intertwined, thumbs brushing together idly. “I always knew it would.”
Of course, the moment is broken a moment later with the slam of a car door when Natsuki properly makes her entrance. Her hair dips slightly past her shoulders now, but her arms are folded in a way that’s never quite changed. “Hey, look who finally decided to show up.”
“Nat!” Sayori squeals, flinging her arms around Natsuki, who hugs her back just as tightly through a faux-grumble. When Sayori breaks away, she knows exactly who her next victim is. “Yuri!”
“Oh, I am so happy to see you both.” Yuri accepts the hug, sinking gladly into the embrace. Her hair is in a braided bun, as it usually is nowadays, out of her face at last. She lets a hand rest on Sayori’s shoulder. “You have been sleeping more, as we discussed?”
Sayori offers a sheepish, halfhearted nod, recalling the conversation she and Yuri had had about their respective long days. Both of them spend a lot of time in hospital settings, or buried under heaps of homework. “Ehe, something like that. Trying to.”
“I’m keeping an eye on her, Nurse Yuri,” Monika promises, beaming. She sees Yuri less than Sayori, and Natsuki less than either of them, so a moment later she’s pulling them both into yet another hug. Natsuki for one seems thrilled, hehe. As Monika separated from the group to grab some bags from the car, she adds to Natsuki, “You can dodge hugs when I see you more.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
With bags in hands and backpacks securely on shoulders, the group makes their way up the short trail to the top of the hill. It’s surrounded by trees that stretch their fingertips up to the sky, bursting with life in a sea of green. There’s a buzz of wildlife around them and Sayori positively marvels at the chipmunks that scurry by. She clutches the checkered blanket in her arms to her chest, mouth in the shape of an ‘o’.
Natsuki, toting a large kite and a small fabric lunchbox, eyes the hill with a mischievous smirk on her lips. Beside her, Yuri is giving her a soft expression, tinged by a hint of suspicion. They’ve always known each other better than anyone.
With a light sigh, Sayori turns to Monika as they walk steadily forward. “It’s nice out here, isn’t it? It’s all so alive.”
“It’s absolutely perfect,” Monika agrees. She looks out at the scenery, her features softened by both time and newfound peace; even her shoulders are relaxed. She looks a bit like a cat basking in the sun, letting its guard fall for once after a lifetime of raised hackles.
Sayori has to agree. It’s perfect.
“Come and get me, slowpokes!” Natsuki calls, suddenly breaking into a sprint and hurtling up the hill. Her hair, a similar shade of pink to her skirt, flows in the breeze as she makes her way toward the top. Her bag thunks rhythmically against her hip, and behind her trails a long string, stretching up, up, up into the air, where it connects with the kite.
Sayori grins, meeting green eyes that say don’t-you-dare before thrusting the blanket toward Monika and darting off after Natsuki. “Who are you calling a slowpoke?” she calls out. She’s on Nat’s heels soon, with no sign of slowing down. They weave through long grass and colorful flowers, shrieking and skidding, until they eventually collapse into a heap of limbs and laughter once they can climb no further.
“Almost… got me,” Natsuki huffs, flat on her back, the kite still bobbing lazily above her. “Not… close… enough.”
Sayori giggles, wiping the dirt from her hands off on her dress and draping one arm over her stomach. She reaches over to poke Natsuki— “Hey!” —in the side. “Next time,” she vows, once she’s caught her breath as well.
“Threat or promise?”
“Yes.”
Monika and Yuri, arriving at the top of the hill at a reasonable pace, share the same knowing look they always have when Sayori and Natsuki get rowdy. Monika unfurls the blanket, using stones to pin the corners down, and Yuri places her cooler bag down on top. Then Monika takes off the guitar bag that had been resting on her back, and sets it safely beside the picnic site.
Sayori rolls through the grass until she feels the dirt beneath her transition to cloth. Thankfully, she’s not too much of a mess… this dress is on the newer side, and she’d rather not decorate it with grass stains so soon. When she’s finally on the blanket properly, cuddled up next to Monika, she notices the shadow of worry passing over her face like a gray cloud, creasing the space between her eyebrows a line of concern.
“Hey… I’m okay,” Sayori says under her breath, cuddling up to Monika. She melts into the embrace, glancing over at Yuri and Nat, in essentially the same position. “So, catch us up, guys. How’s school? How’s life? Ooh—How’s the train?”
“You act like it’s been a year, you know half of this already,” Natsuki says, with a teasing smirk. “What… Miss us, or something?”
“Always,” is Monika’s response, echoing Sayori’s exact thoughts.
“She misses you terribly, too, you know,” Yuri tells them, offering a soft look in return for the expression of mock-betrayal Natsuki wears.
It’s far from a secret that, although their club has long since been passed down to younger students, their little family is here to stay. You may leave the literature club, but boy oh boy, the literature club never leaves you. They can never go too long without dropping by unannounced under the guise of needing a study buddy, or borrowing bananas for a recipe. ‘What do you mean there are no bananas in blueberry muffins? Shucks. Oh well… but you kno-ow, now that I’m here, and all…’ The excuses aren’t needed. Sayori feels an all-too familiar sensation in her chest, like she always does when she’s with her girls. Her heart squeezes, like it can hardly believe it.
They sit on the checkered blanket and talk about everything, from long essays, to new hobbies, to work annoyances. It’s the type of adult-like conversation Sayori could never imagine wanting to listen to, yet alone participate in, yet here she is. And she’s glad to be here. She’s more than happy to be boring, thank you very much.
Oh, her literature club. Sayori sits back contentedly as Yuri and Monika talk about their creative writing classes; a requirement for Monika, and one of Yuri’s rare electives. Natsuki is watching Yuri intently, her eyes never once leaving the girl’s face. The kite, tethered safely to the lunch bag, soars above them all. Sandwiches are passed out a moment or two later, but the conversation manages to flow smoothly around quiet munching and full-mouthed hums.
They’re all older, it’s clear—but they’re still them. They always will be. Yuri has grown into herself wonderfully, allowing who she is to shine, no longer shutting the world out or hiding away. Natsuki carries herself with confidence, unflinching in the face of any challenge, steadier on her feet just like Sayori is beginning to be. And Monika… Oh, Monika. Monika has only grown more beautiful, more composed, more well-spoken. She’s talked Sayori through many tough days in their time together, whether it be over the phone or beside her in bed. She’s grounded, she’s finally sure of herself. She practices piano and pours her heart into music, then turns around and pours even more of it into her writing, spinning stories made of love and hope. She weaves pretty words into an intricate fabric, keeping Sayori hooked on every word and pleading for more.
Currently, Monika herself is what has Sayori hooked. She’s beyond beautiful. She’s radiant. The dress she’d agonized over goes wonderfully with her jewelry… especially the tiny silver ring on her pinky finger, adorned with a small letter ‘S’. They’ve come a long way from locked pinkies and blue ring pops. Sayori glances down momentarily, the corners of her lips twitching upward as the golden band adorning her own pinky, just on the opposite hand, glistens in the sun. ‘M’. Their forever-promise to one another.
“You been doing okay lately?” Natsuki nudges Sayori with her elbow, derailing her train of thought.
“Yeah. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, ehe.” Sayori pulls her eyes away from the other two, instead turning her gaze to the blue-green expanse of forest surrounding them. “But… yeah. I’m okay. Honestly, Nat, I think I’ll be climbing that mountain forever.”
Natsuki laughs. “Well, you’re in good company.”
The day is so, so beautiful. Yuri reveals the dessert she and Natsuki had baked, a soft vanilla cake with strawberries inside, and a shiny chocolate icing. There’s a small cat face on top, piped in white frosting, with ears made of sliced strawberries. Very Natsuki, ehe, but the elegance is Yuri all day long.
“I tempered the chocolate on top—it’s a glaze,” Natsuki explains proudly while Yuri slices it up into perfect triangles. “See how it’s all glossy? It was kind of tricky, doing it without gelatin, but Yuu dug up a recipe with honey instead. It should be fine. Hehe, if nothing else, it sure looks nice, huh?”
“It does,” Monika agrees, looking rather fascinated by the glaze. Between her and Sayori, the baking skills they have are rather… meh. Nonexistent, more like it. They can cook like crazy, though—Sayori especially, since her therapist had suggested cooking as a sort of coping mechanism. A way to make eating easier. It did help, a lot. When she isn’t home in time to cook, Monika picks up the slack, always able to whip up a killer soup or stew in a flash.
Yuri hands four pieces out, each on a pastel pink plate. Natsuki takes a thoughtful bite, chewing carefully before humming in what sounds like approval. In her peripherals, Sayori sees Monika stealing not-so-subtle glances at her. She picks up a forkful of cake and samples it, reminded again of how incredible her friends are. After a big thumbs up, she takes another forkful and brings it up to Monika’s lips.
“Here,” Sayori says, amused at the color rising in her girlfriend’s cheeks. She has a knack for getting all worked up over the smallest romantic gestures, just like she’d always done. And Sayori, as she’s always done, finds it ridiculously endearing. “Good, right?”
Monika’s eyes stay on Sayori’s. She can’t fight the smile on her lips. “Better than good. Perfect.”
A comfortable silence settles over the four as they enjoy Yuri and Natsuki’s handiwork, broken once or twice by a comment on the flavor or remark about how wonderful the weather is. The sun sits comfortably in the wide expanse of blue sky, painting the meadow golden in its steady descent. The wisteria trees that sit on the outskirts rustle gently in the light breeze. Sayori leans back on her palms, looking out at the sea of green, dotted with pinks, purples, and blues. Forget-me-nots. She recognizes those.
Sometimes, when she remembers the person she used to be, sadness wells up in her chest and makes it hard to breathe. How many moments like this one could she have had? What memories had she missed out on? Sayori has built her smile and her new life brick by brick. She’s earned the freedom to appreciate food without paying it any mind. Still, she can’t help wishing she could’ve saved herself sooner.
There’s a grieving process in recovery. You let go of who you were, what you looked like, the values that held you together. Everything, really. But there’s more to it. Sayori sighs gently, casting a wistful glance around her. You grieve the person you’ll never get to be. Maybe in another universe she made it out unscathed; or maybe she’s destined to fall in every lifetime. Either way, she can’t change where she’s been, and she certainly wouldn’t trade where she is for anything in the world.
Shaking it off, Sayori focuses on the beautiful here-and-now. She decides that she could live in this moment. It’s a thought she has often nowadays, which is probably a sign that she’s on the right path. Although… she sneaks a glance at the beautiful girl beside her. She’d known that for a while now.
“Alright, I gotta know,” Natsuki says, when plates are cleared and tucked away, “who’s serenading us today?” She nods her head toward the guitar case behind Monika; it’s a valid question.
Sayori raises her hand shyly. What, did she not mention that she’s been dabbling in music, too? She might not have much spare time, so she’s kept it on the down low, but she’s comfortable enough with it that she feels ready at last to show the others. “I… Well, Monika and I, I mean, we wrote a song together.” Monika gives her a look. “What? You helped so much, I had to give you credit.”
“That’s wonderful, Sayori!” Yuri nods encouragingly, watching with curiosity as she unsheaths the instrument in all its glory. “Monika is rubbing off on you, I see…”
Sayori conspicuously turns to look at the cat cake, then back at Yuri, arching a brow.
“Ah. Touché.”
Fiddling with the tuners, Sayori feels her heart racing. She hasn’t even started playing yet. Is this how it feels for Monika, whenever she snags a gig or performance opportunity? She steadies herself with a slow breath, but it’s Monika’s hand on her thigh that brings the calmness she needed. Before she starts, Monika motions to her.
“Kill it, superstar,” Monika whispers, placing a crown of woven clovers atop her head.
Sayori beams at her—she can’t even help it, she kisses her right there, much to the feigned chagrin of Natsuki. To make her feel better, Yuri plants a kiss on her cheek too. This seems to solve things.
Finally, after a few more deep breaths, Sayori places her fingers carefully on the fretboard. Her right hand hovers by the soundhold, waiting to make the first move. She knows this. She made this, after all. Sayori and her piano girl. There are no lyrics, not like the magical poetry that flows from Monika’s pen, but she can’t sing so well anyway. Her fingertips connect with the strings as she watches them in concentration, and a melody steadily bubbles to life. It starts slowly, with simple plucked chords, then transforms into what Monika had called an arch… arpe… something that means individual notes, hehe. She’d almost said archipelago, which is definitely not right.
Sayori lets her eyes close as the echo of the melody leaves her lips. They aren’t words, just a sequence of syllables that follow the contour of the piece, but she’s proud of it anyway. The guitar part picks up as she sings along, swaying. The instrument, for the first time, feels like an extension of herself. The song is her heart, transformed into something tangible, something audible. The melody slows back down into chords, but then it shifts again and picks up not a moment later. Sayori’s heart has been racing the whole time, going absolutely crazy as her hands carefully shift from shape to shape. Finally, she’s reached the end; it’s far up the neck of the guitar, high and twinkly, a mirror of one of Monika’s own piano melodies.
Silence. Sayori inhales slowly, then releases it, feeling her chest rise and fall as the meadow around her hums with life, beginning its song just as hers concludes.
“Good job, my love,” Monika says in a soft, proud voice, a faraway look in her glassy eyes. She returns to earth with a blink, smiling at Sayori. No, beaming. Positively beaming at her.
“Indeed.” Yuri’s gaze flickers between the instrument and Sayori, as if she’s waiting for an encore. “I had no idea you were learning to play, Sayori. That was wonderful.”
Natsuki punches Sayori lightly in the arm. “And here I was, thinking it was Monika’s! How many times have I seen that thing in your place? Sneaky. I’m gonna hire you to play at my wedding.”
“A-Ah, Natsuki!”
Hehe. Sayori rests her head on the body of her guitar; it had been a birthday gift from Monika, the first they’d spent together after getting their place. She had staunchly refused to tell anyone about it until she ‘got good’, insisting that such a pretty thing deserved to be played properly. As always, Monika lovingly went along with this, convincing everyone that it was hers and coyly managing to avoid playing it just at the last second.
Everything has led them here, to this moment, Sayori thinks. She can’t help the nostalgia flooding over her once more; between the perfume of new flowers and the idle chatter of the most cherished people in her life, it’s inescapable. But she doesn’t mind.
Her musing is cut off by a tickle on her thigh, and she looks down.
“Oh! Hello there, you,” Sayori greets, finding a tiny, speckled ladybug crawling toward her knee. She places her index finger down, a makeshift elevator, and lifts it closer to her when it crawls aboard and scuttles across unmarred knuckles. She’s always had a soft spot for these little fellows… or little ladies, she should say. “See her?” Sayori whispers to the bug, poking toward Monika with her free hand. “I love her.”
Monika gives her an exasperated what am I going to do with you look, paired with an affectionate smile. “You’re a doof.”
“Mm, yes.” Sayori has to agree, nodding. She sets the ladybug free in the grass, then tucks her guitar to the side so that she’s free to lay down and rest her head in Monika’s lap. Yuri and Natsuki, arm in arm across from them, are swapping knowing looks. “But I’m your doof.”
“For always.”
They remain there, all simply basking in one another’s presence, until the sky begins to spritz, and a rush of chilled air raises goosebumps on their arms; the sign that it’s time to pack the cake away, and head back down the hill. Although none are much looking forward to parting ways, they know that there will be another Saturday. Sayori and Monika wave at Yuri and Natsuki as they climb into that old Ford of hers, and exchange smiles.
“Let’s go home, my beloved president,” Sayori says affectionately, the old nickname slipping out despite herself.
But there are stars in Monika’s eyes, too, and it’s evident that nostalgia evades no girl on a day like today. Not when the misting rain is painting the sky into a rainbow, and the birds are twittering about, and everything is painted gold. “As you wish.”
Not for the first time, they make their way toward Monika’s little convertible. Arm in arm; how it should be.
As the trees slide past, melting into the buildings that have grown so familiar, Sayori finds herself watching raindrops race each other in their mad dash down the window. Choked up, she lets her gaze remain focused on some meaningless point in the distance. She’s always been emotional, her heart twisting at sad movies and tears forming over a simple poem, but she doesn’t try to run from that side of herself anymore. Finally, consumed with memories and feeling painfully nostalgic, Sayori tears her eyes from the window and spares Monika a glance.
Monika, who is suddenly sixteen again, is smiling to herself in the same way she always has. It pulls at Sayori’s heartstrings all over again and she shakes her head. God. She can’t even help it.
“Hey, Sayo,” Monika says softly, running her hand along her forearm absently before letting it rest on the center console. She’s twenty again, stronger and wiser, and there’s a lightness to her that hadn’t been there in the past. “Even if I had the chance to go back, I’d do everything the same if it meant getting to be right here.”
Sayori covers Monika’s hand with her own. “So would I. Every time.”
The drive is quiet. Sayori traces her thumb along Monika’s pinky finger, over the ridge of her ring. A thought crosses her mind that makes her cheeks darken: I’m going to marry this girl someday. She’s grateful for the darkening sky, even if she has no need to hide anymore. Monika knows her better than anyone, and they certainly don’t hold out on any romance. But this thought is one that Sayori keeps private. She just squeezes Monika’s hand. I’m going to marry this girl.
It’s almost startling how much she truly, deeply, and with all of her heart wants to live. When they pull up at their house, the rain has subsided again, dissipating as quickly as it had arrived, leaving the road shiny and the grass dewy. Everything sparkles.
Sayori smiles at the glow in the front window. It works, she thinks proudly, just to herself. Since she gets out late most days and rarely arrives first, she’d never had the chance to see if her little timer-operated candle did its job. Here it is, spilling out in a golden halo, welcoming them home. Sayori never wanted Monika to come home to an empty house. This was the best she could do, and she just… she hopes it helps.
Monika locks up the car, her lips quirking upward when she follows Sayori’s gaze to the electric candle. “Do you know why it does that?” she asks, perhaps rhetorically, turning to look at Sayori instead. “Every night, like clockwork.”
Sayori wraps an arm around Monika as they walk up the steps. At least one point of contact. She holds the door open, shaking her head and saying with a smile, “Nope. No idea.” But after Monika is inside, Sayori can’t help lingering, still on the outside, breathing in the spring. Her heart gives another squeeze. Tomorrow might be another good day, or it might make her feel like she’s right back at the bottom of the mountain. She has no way of knowing, but she finds she doesn’t mind. Either way, Monika will be beside her. They can face anything together.
“You coming, sunshine?”
A lone car rumbles past as Sayori hums. She lets herself stare out into the blossoming nighttime just a moment longer, appreciating every last drop that the day has to offer. Her brain has not once stopped its whirring. Ehe, it really never has.
In the emergence of twilight, she can’t prevent herself from returning to that private, insistent thought of hers. Maybe someday she truly will be on one knee, asking Monika to be hers for every day that they have left, good or bad, gray or blue. Maybe someday, tiny feet will patter across their floor, hearts of gold that will never know dark houses or condescending tsks. Of course, all of that is a long way off, well beyond where they are right now. It’s a much different story, one that has yet to be written. And besides… she rather likes right now. Can you blame her for wanting to take her time for once?
“I love you, you know.” A gentle hand finds repose on the small of her back. Monika rests her head against Sayori’s, watching along with her as stars begin to smatter the darkness with bright speckles.
“I love you, too. Always have.” Sayori looks up at the moon, which bathes the street in an ivory glow as it settles in the sky between wispy remnants of rain clouds. Even the darkness holds its own light. There is an end to every storm, from the biggest to the smallest. “The moon is so beautiful.”
Monika nods. Her eyes, as they’ve always been, are on Sayori. “More beautiful than anything.”
Night has fallen. All in their little world is silent and still. Sayori shares a soft look with Monika. Hand in hand with the love of her life, she steps into their home. The door, adorned with a sign bearing both of their family names, closes behind them. They’ve survived enough distance to last a lifetime.
Dear Moni,
I know there’s nothing I can say to make this easier. I’ve tried, believe me! All I want is for you to know… I love you no matter what. More than poems or cherries or lemon scented things. Just please remember that even when things seem awful and everything is going wrong, or you’re facing the unthinkable, you can get through it. I mean, I have. The ending is never really the ending, you know?
Besides, you can get through anything, I think. You've never given yourself enough credit.
Thank you for everything, Moni. Really. You saved my life over and over. You gave me my future back when things were the worst they’ve ever been. I’m so changed because of you. To think, we started out with just making the club! I didn’t realize how much it would mean to me, what it would grow into. Our literature club. It brought you to me. And even though everything is all messy, I’m not going anywhere. I’m still your vice president, no matter what, and I owe you a date. You’re stuck with me. Someday I hope that we make our way back together for keeps. Until then, it’s my only wish. I can't wait to come home to you.
Meet me in the middle? I’ll be here, and we’ll always be under the same sky, just like you said. I love you for always. Pinky promise.
Forever yours,
Sayo