melancholia

it’s a lost cause when she finds her lips pursed as if to catch the tail of her passing comment, eyes clearing as if she’d only now woken from a stupor. a quiet laugh is what escapes her first, at either of their expense, wondering if it was odd for her to give praise out of the blue. to nahui credit, she follows through. “ no reason. i just think it looks pretty,” she answers, likely sounding more present than before. “ you’re very good at your job, of course. everything always looks so pretty when i come around. ”

they’re enough of friends-but-not-friends ( this, she finds out only then. ) that his words hold a sort of weight. weight, because it does feel like her chest doesn’t rise as high when she tries to breathe. tries to, because it doesn’t really seem to work. and if he’s right, nahui listens to make up or lost time now: hearing the up-and-down of his tone conveying just how oblivious she’d been. now still, considering he has to spell it out for her in the very end.

if she wasn’t already frowning before, she was now. granted, it was more out of incredulity rather than anger, but her brows furrowed all the same. “ i was clearly here first! ” comes her protest, the look in her eyes as if questioning the nerve he had to suggest such a thing. immature she may be, but consider it a favour returned. “ and truth be told, the song wasn’t that terrible until you started singing it non-stop. ” and not even the full song, mind you; she swears he has been reciting the same four lines like a broken radio.

a word of affirmation almost slips from her out of reflex, and nahui wonders how many times the words had been meant to reassure rather than to promise. more than one would think, nahui surmises. rows of teeth are meant to be lied through. “ maybe not physically, ” she starts, left with only the choice of confessing. ( which really should be the norm, if we’re being honest. )“ but i’ll still be around, you know? it’s not like i have plans of flying off to anywhere. ” it was difficult, more than it should be at least: to give and receive sincerely.

with the witch’s goading, the only thing that has her held back is a sense of couth, knowing her impatience thus far to be unladylike. heavens forbid she be caught behaving unelflike to boot. the excited gleam in her eyes shine bright despite her gaze which nahui keeps downcast, half-distracted by the cookie she’d carefully retrieved, and half-embarrassed by her own revealing juvenility. only after a timid murmur of gratitude does she lift her eyes to her gracious hostess, coupled with a cheerful: “ won’t you have one as well? ”

- ‘there’s no harm in trying’ really depends on what you’re trying.

“ put that on a poster and see if people will listen. ” and truly, she should be relieved to hear something like that coming from yukhei but useful reminders has had a tendency to fall right out of one’s head. it’s almost like something wants us to keep making mistakes. ( she suspects all the insurance companies. ) put that on a poster and see if people will listen to what they’re reading, or if that too depends on what they’re reading. put that on a poster and see, and read posters and listen.

another week, another bad decision, be it by your hand or another’s. counting all the weeks in a year: that’s a lot of bad decisions. and a lot of hands. but before we get ahead of ourselves, let’s bring the count down by one on account of this week’s bad decision being broadcasted on the tv screen in front of them. them, being yukhei and nahui. the bad decision, being trying to high-five a moving train. no, really.

if we are to be convinced by a lie we tell ourselves, does that make us clever or stupid?

what she’s looking for is less of an answer and more of a distraction, less derailment and more realignment. nahui isn’t looking to avoid the problem altogether, she’s looking to let it become part of the passing landscape.

“ why are you looking at me like that? ” she asks moreso to be finally spared of silence, pausing for a moment longer before she looks up to meet their gaze. a small smile plays on her lips, as if she was simply commenting on the weather. “ still thinking about yesterday? i already told you i'm fine. ”

with friends like these, who needs cat burglars?

it’s dark in all the corners of her apartment, curtains drawn tight and windows shut even tighter. there was little to no reason why the wind would be whistling past her walls, but it does anyway.

she is in the state of half-asleep where the only thing on her mind is what drew her out of bed in the first place, deaf and blind to the shadows that otherwise flanked her left and right. and maybe it will be to her own misfortune someday that her reaction is as lukewarm as the glass of water in her hand, but tonight she finds the intruder’s gait to be awfully familiar.

what little light streaming in from the open window is more parts fluorescent than moonlight, and nahui waits with her weight more on the door frame than on her two feet. ( and this happens more often than not at all. ) “ do you have something of a vendetta against using the front door? ”

the first time she found herself standing there, it had been on accident. the second time was on purpose. the third was on instict—so were all the other times since then.

it is as much her quiet sanctuary as it is a witness to wrath. as familiar as it is strange, skirting the line between home and getaway. maybe it’s only fitting that here lies the meeting of the separate bodies of rolling waves and dry land. in almost every part of the world, the sights are unchanging: the sea, sand and pedestals made of stone. in some parts of the world, she’s a passerby with a name. fewer still are the parts where someone actually calls for her from the shore.

she doesn’t delay from looking over her shoulder. and you’d think she hadn’t just materialised out of nowhere, hadn’t made herself unreachable for months past. you’d think she had stood waiting all this time for someone to find. nahui smiles, laughs even, in a way that is reminiscent to the yearly arrival of spring: unapologetic and so carefree.

“ how did you know to find me here? ”

she has never promised to only use her magic for good. in fact, even when she does, it’s for the good of her own well-being. their words go in one ear and out the next.

it aches a little where her elbow rests on the cool surface, skin reddening beneath the weight of fatigue with her head resting in her palm. with her other hand does nahui close the distance in between the two of them, fingers skating the edge of their hairline before she’s gliding digits across their scalp. she feigns inattention with her gaze lost in their now-tussled locks, taking time to brush away the strands that has fallen in their face, all the while hoping her spell would take.

“ you know what sounds good right now? a nice long nap. ” smooth fingertips travel downwards past their temple to rub her thumb over the high of their cheekbone, hazel eyes boring into theirs. “ don't you agree? ”

with luck, maybe the question was rhetoric.

it is always a gamble to stay quiet; others will take it upon themselves to fill your silence in for you. the stream of answers is one that is never-ending. it doesn’t matter if none of them are true as long as there’s something to say. she gives into this predisposition with glossy black on dirty white, blots of ink bleeding around the edges of every sentence she etches onto each blank page. even within a book, these words are spineless. ( in certain places, the stories tear holes in the host’s skin. )

so nahui doesn’t do as much as waiting as she does guessing. ( see also: creating. )

( see also: lying. )

it is often a gamble to keep asking why, and you could spend centuries wondering. an easy way out is to start listening. an easier way out is to stop wondering. she feels only the muffled impact of her pen tapping against the frame of her glasses, hears only his words and not his voice. she doesn’t laugh when he does, doesn’t ask for him to share the joke either. it is quiet save for the passing whispers of conversations neither of them are a part of and she twists her pen-wielding arm to look at the time. if it were a weapon, if this was a battle, that alone would have cost her more than just a few seconds and a filled silence.

no matter the great distances her mind seems to always wander, never once did she let them stray as she worked. quietly too, in contrast to her usual tirade of quiet remarks. her touch is especially careful, almost afraid to even breathe, and occasionally would her gaze sweep over his expression for any sign of pain. but he was relatively impassive, so in-character of him that she wonders if he has had practice in listlessness. she can’t afford splitting her attentions now, lest she cause him more grievance than aid. in between nursing individual bruises and cuts does she spare a moment to really listen.

the skin of his face is littered with shades of black, blue and red; nahui is as concerned as she should be. it is when her hands are withdrawn from his wounds that she finally looks to acknowledge his remarks, offering a small smile in place of words. she’s half-amused, wondering if he’d been living with the thought of persons only doing things out of black-and-white responsibility. and then she sighs before averting her eyes, gaze and hands busying themselves with rummaging through cotton swabs and ointment. but there really wasn’t much to it, was there? “ why are you apologising to me now? i’m doing this because i want to. ” she returns her attention with an unchanging gaze and little trace of curiousity to accompany a question that sounds rhetoric even to her own ears.