Let's Get Messy

Kalim is set to graduate in one week. He came back to visit, taking a break from his internship, and as you open the door to Ramshackle and accidentally whack him with it, you remember why you’re excited and also sad that he is leaving.

You know Crowley is never going to find you a way home. The man simply does not care that much about it. You’ve been alright with this, and your questions for him melted from “When will I go home,” to “Can you help me get documentation?” You sort of wished that this form of bureaucracy was left behind in your world, but alas, you’re stuck without documentation, wondering what you’ll do once you have to leave NRC and go out into the world. Grim said he might join one of the larger mage associations, and you smiled and nodded along as he prattled on and on and on about it as you looked at your savings.

Kalim is set to graduate in one week, and a year from now, you will be in his shoes. It’s easy to forget when he rubs his arm after being hit with the door and scoops you into a great big hug.

“Surprise! I bet you didn’t think I’d be coming by to see you!” He said, squeezing you tighter.

Your breathing turned into a little puff of a wheeze as you replied, “Hi, Kalim.”

He chuckled and let you go, grinning all the while as he looked you over, “Man, I missed you so much. Don’t worry, I did bring you gifts.”

“What?”

He did mean “gifts.” As in plural. More than one gift. It was a procession of a bunch of opulent garbage that you would never use- you even spotted a jewel-encrusted planter pot and a solid gold serpent statue- and he seemed so proud of himself.

It wasn’t ungratefulness. You did like the thought more than the gifts, and it is the thought that counts, but you had no real sense of what to do with any of this stuff. Your mouth opened and closed and you swallowed then lifted your arms to try to get Kalim to pause, “Hey, wait. What am I going to do with any of this?”

Kalim turned to look at you, crimson eyes taking on a somewhat sharp look, and he frowned so sweetly as he said, “What do you mean? You definitely could use a new coffee maker, and I thought you liked plants.”

There was a coffee maker in there, but it was also far too opulent, and besides, you didn’t ever buy coffee. Sam sold it for far too high a price for what it was worth, and you didn’t like trying to haggle with the man. It’s a Sisyphean task that you spare yourself the stress of doing if you can. As for plants, you do, but you didn’t need the… oh, there were two of them. Two jewel encrusted planting vessels.

This was an issue before he left for his internship. Kalim waved over the people carrying everything and smiled at you, “Don’t worry. It’s okay to enjoy the gifts I get you still.”

That was also an issue. Instead of deeming it sheer disbelief, he always would assume you were being humble. He liked to do this, so you shouldn’t be shy. He knew you could use this very expensive wrist watch, so please don’t be humble. He was certain you liked ponies, so you shouldn’t act so upset.

You were happy he was graduating in a week. You were sad he was graduating in a week. The whole thing sucks. Happy that you wouldn’t be bombarded with very, very expensive, and, therefore and inseparably in your head, fragile gifts. Sad that you may never see him after he goes back home to Scalding Sands. Happy that he wouldn’t always push you around. Sad that you wouldn’t be able to see his grin or laugh at his antics anymore.

Regardless, you had places to be, “Hey, uh, Kalim, I am happy to see you and… thank you, for the gifts, but, um, I have class.”

He laughed, “Oh, whoops. I forgot about that. How about I walk with you?”

“Sure.”

You’re so sad that Kalim is graduating. He’s cheery about every little thing, how they haven’t changed any of this, how this is different, how excited he is to see if Trein is still cranky, how he’s excited to see how much all the rest of your year has grown.

When you go into your class, he waves and sits outside, waiting. When you come back out, he’s still there. He’s frowning at his phone. It’s not often that he makes that expression, glossy lips pulled taut, but when he notices your presence, he smiles again.

“It’s lunchtime for you, right? Why don’t I walk you to the cafeteria?” He stands. “Sounds like you’re gonna do something else.”

He just smiles wider. He chatters on and on- his little brothers did this, Jamil said that, he had this for dinner the other night- it’s not anything important, but it matters enough to him for him to mention it to you.

When you get to the cafeteria, he lays a hand on your shoulder and smiles at you, rolling his hand down to your upper arm, squeezing once he gets to your hand. He looks at you with utmost adoration, but there’s something… off.

The regard he is giving you is not unusual. Perhaps that’s the odd part. Reading emotions in the eye is difficult enough as it is, but his whole expression is bizarre. He’s only barely smiling, lips only turned up at the corners, rather than the full expression smile that he usually makes. It’s hard to say it this way, but he’s holding his cheeks weird. His cheekbones are high but not defined, but something about the face he’s making is causing him to look a little less rounded, more haunted than anything.

Haunted is probably the best way you could say that. Your throat feels dry, “Uh… Kalim?”

He smiles a bit wider, and squeezes your hand, “I have to go to a meeting with the Headmage. So… I probably won’t be able to walk you to your next class.”

You blink a few times, eyebrows furrowing, “Yeah, that’s fine. Have a good meeting with Crowely.” He leans forward a hair, then straightens and pulls you into a short-lived hug before he runs down the hallway in the other direction. You enter the cafeteria.

Nothing is new, except for the physical material of the food. You pick the same thing as always, sit with the same people, watch as Ace flings a glob of cottage cheese at Grim, watch as Grim retaliates too far and hits Deuce, watch as Sebek gets that very funny offended expression and blinks at the speck of mustard that landed on his pristine cuff. Watch as Epel lifts his entire tray and launches it at Grim, which entirely misses and hits some poor Ignihyde student. 

The food fight is new. You don’t feel like sitting under the cold stream of water later, trying to wash the cemented food out of your hair, and this uniform is not that easy to wash in the bathtub. Everyone else has magic or better methods, so you hit a crawl and leave the cafeteria, walking to your next class alone. You’re too busy thinking about the bittersweetness of life anyway. 

You remember finding Kalim annoying for all of ten seconds when you first met him outside of the whole Scarabia thing. He spoke to you like you’d known him forever, and you didn’t like it… at first. It’s an interesting pet peeve, more than anything else. Before long, he actually did know you, And you knew him.

It's interesting that it isn't that incredibly hard to remember any of his siblings’ names. They're not alphabetical, but once you see pictures of them, their names match their faces. As far as you can tell, Kalim loves each of them dearly. You can remember exactly once in the three years you’ve known Kalim where he got into an argument with one of his brothers… Shijan, you think his name is, but it was short lived and Kalim was back his general self quickly. 

It’s interesting that he never stops wanting to share. You worried at one point that someone would take advantage of his generosity, but for the most part, most people just seem baffled by his energy and don’t ask for more than he gives them. You still have his cardigan after he lent it to you two years ago. You tried to give it back, but he just wrapped it around you again when you handed it to him, so you have it. Sometimes you’ll wear it like a robe around Ramshackle, or to sleep in, especially when the nights get drafty.

It is interesting that he chose to be friends with you. You suppose on a campus of this type, where everyone has magical ability except for you, you are special, but it is difficult for you to view yourself as such when back home, you are breathtakingly normal. Kalim is like the sun; he hurts your eyes the longer you look at him, but you don’t want to move away from his warmth. You can’t help but wonder why he chose to become close to you, even though he has a habit of making friends wherever he goes.

Kalim graduates in four days. You’re happy. You’re sad. You’re conflicted.

As your next class begins and you diligently take notes, you notice something from the corner of your eye. Kalim is waving at you through the little window in the door. You can’t help a smile and a little wave back, and he strolls in like he is supposed to be there, taking a seat beside you.

A bit unusual, but even more strange is the fact that no one else says anything. You barely move as he wraps an arm around your waist and falls asleep.

At the end of class, you poke his side, standing and packing up. He smiles as he watches you work, his voice light.

“What’s your next class?” He’s speaking very loudly.

You glance over your shoulder, “Uh… Flight. But you know how… You know how Vargas has ‘accomodated’ me.”

He nods, smiling like he’s just heard the best news of his life, “You should cut that class with me. Let Grim do all the work for once.”

That’s… distinctly out of character for him. You straighten and pull your bag over your shoulder, eyes narrowed, “Wow, that’s a bit mean.”

He laughs, “Well, he’s not here right now, is he?”

“No, there was a food fight in the cafeteria.” You reply, eyes narrowing as you think about how gross his fur is going to be later.

“Okay. So come on a walk with me instead.”

You want to tell him that just because he’s a fourth year student and you’re not magic doesn’t mean you can skip class to go do who knows what, but you haven’t seen him in so long. Who cares if he’s acting a bit entitled to your time? You’d rather hang out with him than run laps and do burpees.

You purse your lips and nod, and he grabs your hand, basically dragging you out of the astrology classroom.

He walks straight to this shady little spot behind the library, tucked away between trees, and flourishes, “Surprise! You’ve had such a gloomy look on your face the whole time I’ve been here. Whenever I feel sad, I just eat something good and feel better.”

It’s a picnic. You recognize Jamil’s cooking anywhere, too. Your chest flutters as Kalim pulls you to take a seat, eyes stinging as he begins pouring tea.

You snort as he begins dumping sugar into the cup, overloading it until it’s more a syrup than a drink. He’s always done that. It doesn’t taste cloying to him, you think, but maybe it’s also a power thing. He explained it was a show of wealth ages ago. You think it may still be a show of wealth today, considering how much dental care one would need to undo the damages of one sip of Kalim’s specialty tea. 

The picnic is lovely. Kalim keeps falling silent in between his tirades, and it’s clear he’s trying to gauge what’s on your mind. You cannot tell him, though. If you let slip that you’re not sure where you will go when you’re in his shoes, because it’s been three years and Crowley is absolutely not looking for your way back to your world, and you don’t have any identification or certificates that could let you get a job and most reputable employers will laugh in your face if you tell them you’re from another dimension, and you can’t expect to live off of Crowley’s limited charity forever, however magnanimous he claims to be, then Kalim will kill himself trying to save you.

Because he’s like that. He’s so good. You’re not sure why he even wants to be around you

So you smile and laugh and nod along to his stories a bit more, helping him pack up before walking back to your dorm with him at your shoulder. He isn’t good at your best subject, but he is good at your worst, so he helps you with your homework for that and shivers at the draft. You yawn and stand up, going into the kitchen only to find that a certain little monster has eaten your leftovers once again. You want to cry for a moment- today was already too much- but you suck it back down, because Kalim is in the other room. Instead, you crack open a box of pasta and get to cooking.

You’re not a huge fan of how cold this place has remained. You would say “how cold this place is” if it was just the cold spots from the ghosts, but you’re not blind to the cracks near the siding, the holes in the roof, the chipped paint exposing weathered panels. Ramshackle is cobbled together with duct tape and chewing gum, you think. It’s tacked together with upholstery nails and the will of the builder. The building has more interesting history than you ever will.

Kalim appears in the doorway, breathing in deeply, “Oh, that smells great!”

“Does it? It’s just buttered noodles. Nothing incredible.”

“It’s incredible if you make it.” He mumbles.

You don’t prefer Grim keeping you company when you’re cooking, but obviously he’s off doing who knows what. If he saw Kalim in here, he’d get super cranky. And you’d feel the need to apologize, even though you aren’t doing anything wrong. Kalim doesn’t shed, but Grim does, which is why you don’t like him in here while you’re cooking. A little hair never hurt anyone, but also it wholly did. Nothing is worse than biting into something when you’re hungry and finding that it is full of hair.

Kalim must have been saying something, since he says your name and you have no clue what he was talking about. He smiles and repeats himself, “What’s the matter?”

“Oh. I was thinking about Grim.”

“He’s fine, I’m sure. Why?”

“Well… I feel a little guilty for cutting Flight without him.” You murmur, scooping the buttered noodles into two containers.

Kalim doesn’t respond. When you glance at him, you think he’s frowning, but the expression only lasts a moment before he smiles again and excuses himself to make a phone call.

Grim ignores you for the next two days, unless you have food. You don’t mind sharing, even if he’s being a little asshole about it. You adore the wretched little beast.

And Kalim… for the next two days, he remains glued to your side. This wasn’t unusual last year or the year before, so rather than feeling unusual, it feels like a return to the norm. Your best friend is back in town, but it’s a short return.

Kalim is graduating tomorrow. It’s Thursday. The ceremony is tomorrow. You want to cry and cheer louder than anyone else can. You have to keep from crying every time you make eye contact with him. You can tell he’s growing concerned, but you don’t feel that you should start talking about what the issue is. This is a good week for him. You’re happy for him.

You start crying when you step into the staff bathroom. You aren’t supposed to be in here, but it’s your free period and you don’t want to sob like a kid lost in the supermarket while you’re in the regular bathrooms. So you sit in the staff restroom and accept the shame and possible disciplinary action in favor of having a good cry.

You find yourself wanting to grasp at fragments of Kalim even though he’s still here. You wore his cardigan today, the fancy pair of satin soled socks he gave you years ago. When he is back home in Scalding Sands, will he remember you? Will he want to keep being your friend?

It’s not unusual for a loss in proximity to affect the way your peers view you. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder” is only viable when both parts of the distance view each other with the same regard. You think of Kalim as a very close friend, but you’ve never gotten confirmation as to how he thinks of you. You suppose that’s fine. It hurts, but it’s fine.

You cough and get up, wiping your face and pressing cold water against your eyes. You expect to open the door and see a teacher there, but you’re alone. You walk back to Ramshackle alone.

The respite is nice, and you- 

You’re pretty certain that there was not an elephant in the front yard when you left this morning. You cautiously approach the beast, and it bumps your face with its trunk.

“Hello to you too.”

You’re pretty sure the elephant is smiling. You kind of want to smile too. It’s not necessarily a dog, but you get the urge to check for a name tag, petting the beast and finding nothing of the sort. Kalim exits the front door of Ramshackle and you point at the elephant, who is now playing with your necktie.

Kalim laughs, “Oh! She’s yours!”

“What?” You feel that hot swell of disbelief once more, and Kalim, “I don’t think that’s ethical.”

“What do you mean? It’s fine; you should give her a name.” Kalim says, “You walk everywhere, I thought you could use a ride.”

“So you gave me an elephant? I don’t know how to take care of an elephant!” You squawk, even as the elephant plays with your hair.”I don’t know where I’ll keep her! She’s too big to go with the horses and I would not be able to make it to class on time even if I ever did ride her, which I also don’t know how to do!”

“So… you don’t want the elephant?” His voice sounds so small. He tilts his head and juts out his bottom lip.

Before you can respond or he can say anything else, the afternoon gets more ridiculous. Crowley materializes, tilting his hat to Kalim and smiling at you.

You hate that expression. You hate it even more when he says, “Have you already packed?”

You don’t get the chance to ask him what the hell he is talking about because Kalim responds with, “Ah… haha… ha, well, there goes the surprise. I’ve already packed for them, headmage.”

“Wait, hold on. ‘Packed’? Am I missing something?”

Crowley moves in that incredibly practiced manner and you almost want to scream as he goes on one of his tirades, hand on his chest, “As you know, you have been my ward for three years, and I view you as my own child. I am so very pleased to announce that you will be marrying into the Al Asim family! What fortune for you!”

You’re not really sure what to feel. You sort of just slowly turn to look at Kalim, and he smiles at you, “Surprise!”

You shiver and take a step away from him when he walks towards you. His lips part and his warm hand grabs your own. You grab his hand to try pulling it away and turn your attention back to Crowley.

“When were you going to tell me about this if you didn’t come by today? A month from now? I’ve been trying to get a meeting with you since last month!”

The headmage clicks his tongue, “Ah- I’m a very busy man, prefect. What did you want to meet about?”

You rip away from Kalim, taking a shaky step towards Crowley. You can’t care that Kalim hears this, since obviously you are part of a plot you aren’t privy to. You jab a finger at Crowley’s chest, “I’m graduating in a year, and you can’t make time for me? I don’t want to stay here forever. I know you aren’t looking for a way to send me back home.”

Crowley doesn’t move away, just staring at your finger. Kalim speaks up instead, “That’s why you’re coming home with me. If you’re my spouse, then you don’t have to worry about anything… you’d be safe.”

Your head begins to pound, “And you didn’t think to mention that you wanted to get married to me?”

You look between Crowley and Kalim. Crowley grins, bowing to Kalim with a flourish and stepping away. He fades into nothing and you want to scream. You crouch down instead, wanting nothing more than to get violent. Kalim’s hand is warm on your back.

“It’s a win-win situation,” his voice is quiet. “And I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d get upset. You’re always so upset. Once you’re home, it’ll be okay.”

“I’m never going home.”

“Yeah, you are.” His lips on your temples are like soft little feathers, sickeningly gentle, “You’re going home with me.”

You kind of want to commit a crime. Crimes don’t seem particularly steady here, and you’re not sure what is and isn’t against the law.

Kalim keeps talking, “I made some accommodations for Grim too, since you two are obviously a package deal. And… You can keep the phone the headmage gave you… but I’ll probably get you a better one. Yours isn’t connected to our network anyway.”

He kisses your cheek this time. You reach up and push his face away, “Stop.”

“I’m sorry. But I’ll make you so happy. I promise.” He smiles ever wider, shuffling so he’s crouched in front of you. He’s making that awful face again, the weird one that isn’t a smile but also is a smile. His lips stretch as he slides his hands over yours and looping his fingers where yours part, “I guess it’s a good thing that he spoiled your surprise. Saves me a bit of logistical planning. Come on.”

“Why would I go with you?”

Kalim stands up and gives you a smile that makes you wonder why you ever thought you knew him. Why you ever wanted to know him, why you ever wanted to be his friend. It makes you regret ever feeling upset that he was going to graduate. The man staring down at you is a stranger. 

When you get to the cafeteria, he lays a hand on your shoulder and smiles at you, rolling his hand down to your upper arm, squeezing once he gets to your hand. He looks at you with utmost adoration, but there’s something… off.

The regard he is giving you is not unusual. Perhaps that’s the odd part. Reading emotions in the eye is difficult enough as it is, but his whole expression is bizarre. He’s only barely smiling, lips only turned up at the corners, rather than the full expression smile that he usually makes. It’s hard to say it this way, but he’s holding his cheeks weird. His cheekbones are high but not defined, but something about the face he’s making is causing him to look a little less rounded, more haunted than anything.

You can barely remember what the trip to the hospital was like. All you felt was pain. Pain, and pushing, and clenching… Sort of like watching a worm, undulation and writhe, undulation and roll. You could sort of hear Epel as he packed you into his little car, sort of see his pale face.

“Alright, just stay with me, honey.” He kept saying.

You were with him. You were also thinking that this whole thing seemed a bit early. You were just a few days away from seven months, which you thought was funny, since there’s the seven deadly sins, seven heavenly virtues, the Great Seven… You have seven thoughts to beg the hospital for help in getting you away from fucking Epel Felmier.

Epel is on the phone, and he might have done something to make you invisible to cops, since he passes at least three and they don’t stop him, even though the speedometer keeps crawling up. Once he parks haphazardly, through the bleary haze of pain you can hear his labored breathing, feel his trembling as he lifts you out of the car. You close your eyes as he runs into the hospital.

The nurses have him put you in a wheelchair, taking you to the maternity ward, and then suddenly you’re on a table and Doctor Zigvolt is nodding at you, eyes wide as he tells you to push, push…

You’re unable to really focus on much other than the roiling agony in your body. You barely hear the doctors and nurses, barely feel the cold, clinical touch of the sterilized gloves on your thighs and knees, barely feel yourself pushing.

When Epel grabs your hand, all you feel is hatred and pain. He looks terrified, and you suddenly wish that he was the one in this body, feeling the wicked pain you are. You grit your teeth and push, your words a bitter grit, “Fuck you, motherfucker-” He laughs, “Yeah? Maybe in a few more weeks, we can give her a sister.” You roar, with a final, heaving push, “No!” The push also forces you to vomit on yourself. The smell of the bile does somewhat help with your lucidity, but it doesn’t help with your pain or anger. You sob and push, and the pain shoots up from your crotch like hooks shredding through your skin. Epel is still gripping your hand.

The baby squalling doesn’t dull the pain. They put her in your arms after cleaning you up. You didn’t know you had outstretched your arms, didn’t know you wanted to hold this parasite that you suddenly want a lot more, and you look at her. Even now, shriveled little reddened raisin that she is, she looks more like you than Epel. You suppose you can be grateful for that.

Epel is crying, tears in his big blue eyes, and you wish he was crying because he is in pain, but he’s not. They’re tears of joy.

He keeps whispering, talking about “his beautiful family” and how much he loves you and the baby, and you want to get up and leave, but you can’t. The baby latches onto your breast and you really wish you hated her as well, but you don’t.

When they take her away, since she was a month early, you feel hollow- as though she’s dead, and not just in another room. The nurse comes in and smiles at you and Epel.

“Congratulations again, you two! What are we thinking in terms of names?” She’s too happy. Like Belle.

Epel looks at you, “Well… you did a great job, pushin’ her head out.”

His pretty lavender hair is glued to his forehead by sweat. He gives you a toothy grin, and you look at your hands, “Um… I don’t know. When can I have her back?”

Epel looked a bit uncomfortable, but smiled winningly at the nurse, “Well… We didn’t talk names, being busy with work and moving… Honey, how about Odette?”

“Like the bitch in Swan Lake?” You snapped at him.

“Alright. One of my ancestors was named Simone? You like that one?”

You wanted to cry. You didn’t care that much about her name, but you wanted your baby back. Also, Epel mentioned moving as though you have been moving either to his place or him to yours, or both of you to somewhere else, and you hadn’t. You felt the unbearable weight of a brick on your psyche, “Alright. Maybe for a middle name?”

“Yeah. Okay… You really don’t like Odette?”

“No.”

He nodded, then proposed, “Meemaw’s best friend, who passed away last summer, her name was Henriette.”

“Henriette Simone…” You mumbled. The world was swimming around you, but you blearily nodded, “There’s a cute nickname in there somewhere…”

“Yeah. Baby, you okay?” Epel asked.

He sounded like he was standing above water, and you were below it. You could hear him speaking, and it was clear enough if you focused, but it was also impossible to hear him speaking, and you couldn’t focus.

You can hardly walk anymore, but Epel carries you often. Any chance he gets, he scoops you up, kissing your cheeks and neck. You hate it. Your waddling is awful, and you’re tired, and to top it all off, your tits are sore.

Epel keeps taking you to his apartment. You like it more than your own, though you should not. It’s smaller, but cozier. The rug in his bedroom is apparently a textile his “meemaw” handmade for him. It’s beautiful, a pattern of deer, apples, bells, and bottles in a soft, welcoming array of pinks, blues, and violets. Epel looked almost ashamed to show you his place at first, but you genuinely like it in his apartment. Comparatively, yours is a cold, beautiful coffin. Epel has a roof that leaks and his boiler smells weird, and there’s a stain on his wall from something that he doesn’t know, but it’s lived in. The space feels alive. And the food he cooks tastes more like food and less like sand when it’s made by him in his apartment.

The only downside is that every time you spend the night there, you have these terrible dreams. You’re running, and you can hear garbled screaming and shouting. There’s thumping, and you seem to be in your apartment, but you’re also not sure, as everything is blurry.

It took you a while to figure it out, but it’s a replaying of the night whoever your body used to belong to fought with Epel for the last time. From what you can understand, the last inhabitant of this body was frenemies with benefits with Epel. He wanted more than casual sex and the occasional hatefuck, and whoever you were had a pretty severe psychotic break when he wouldn’t drop it. They scream in your dream and you wake up screaming, which makes Epel concerned and grouchy as he wakes up with you. You haven’t told him exactly what the issue is.

So you ask not to spend the night too often, but you don’t have much of a choice as you still don’t know this city very well. Besides, wandering around at night pregnant isn’t a stellar idea. It doesn’t matter as much anyway, since ironically, Epel seems to strongly prefer your apartment to his. He seems far more pleased to lounge over your legs with his ear against your growing belly on your couch rather than his.

You must be getting dumber… or complacent, because one day, as he’s doing just that, you hear yourself talking before you understand what you’re saying, “If you move in with me, or we move somewhere else together, can we use your furniture? I like the rug in your bedroom.” Epel freezes, then sits up to stare at you, those pretty blue eyes watery like always, “You wanna get a house together?” “A house?” You repeat dully.

Epel leans up and kisses your forehead, then your eyelids, then your nose. Then he leans back, “Honey, that’s a big step. You sure you’re ready?”

“I’m… going to shove out a baby in less than two months. I think that’s a bigger step than… than getting a house together.” 

His cheeks redden and you don’t feel bad for him. It’s like he didn’t think about any of this aside from the initial idea- get you pregnant and be together. You’re sore, physically and emotionally. Your poor tired nipples, your poor swollen ankles, your weak, weak, pathetic soul-

He leans in again, kissing you, and you can’t help but feel even more irritated when he stands up, stretching, and says, “Well, I’ll start lookin’. We can keep the stuff from my place.”

Starlo, on set, has also taken to speaking to your belly. You hate this, for many reasons, the most of which is that it makes you feel like a fancy incubator more than a person. Pepper seems disturbed by how round you’re growing- like he’s never seen a pregnant belly before. Belle talks to you more than your belly, but her questions feel increasingly vapid, and you don’t retain any of them but one.

“When did you guys really get together?”

You don’t know. As far as you’re aware, Epel thinks you’ve always been destined for each other. He references things that you should know, but don’t because you aren’t you. Is it destiny if one of the destined is not alive anymore, a different ghost possessing their form?