#idikei

i˖✩

Cassette player on the nightstand, blasting cheap music to the piles of lip glosses and eyeshadow palettes engulfing it in their powdery radiance, to the open bottle of cranberry vodka reflecting crimson waves across the floors. The breeze blew a salty breath into her face, and like quicksand, the mattress was slowly sucking her in, too comfortable for its own good. To her left unfolded the sea and the beach, their balcony pointed to a paradisiac corner of the world, but she couldn't bring herself to enjoy either the scenery or the bed. She couldn't really figure out what to do with herself at all for that matter.

There was a slap, a sharp one. Behind the wall, skin crashed against skin. Idia dragged her knees under her chin, exhale swallowed.

Just as reflexively, a splash of ginger curls bounced from behind the bathroom door, smile twitching, stuck somewhere between amused and distressed.

"Already?" Cater shifted her brush from one hand to another. The diamond sign under her right eye was only half-completed, and the tips of her hair were still wet.

"Floyd!" huffed the voice neighbouring them, an embarrassed, scolding thunder.

Six days, five hours and thirty-something minutes left. Idia's luggage lingered by her bed, discreet and expectant. She didn't even get the time to pull the zipper and lay her things out, but at the same time, some part of her helplessly hoped she would soon find a way to sneak back home.

Blue flakes sprinkled over the bedding as Idia started to unconsciously peel the polish off her nails. Since Cater was expecting a reply from her, she muttered, "Should we, uh, tell them something?"

"Nah," Cater gesticulated before hovering back to the mirror, tracing a line more, or two. Soon the bathroom door closed behind her, and she hurled herself into her own bed, leg resting on one knee, hand clutching around the unfinished drink. She was at the peak of her casualness in red shorts and a white fitted top; Idia couldn't help but look at the way the four-diamond card print stretched across her chest. "Bestie's having fun, why spoil it?"

Then she drank, later stretching herself to turn up the volume on her cassette player. The sound climbed to the walls, so loud that it muffled Idia's own train of thought. Six days, five hours and thirty-something minutes left. Six days, five hours and thirty-something left, or twenty-something, now, was it? Cater looked at the ceiling and moved her mouth, slightly, as if talking to herself. Something about Riddle Rosehearts. Something about being so very proud of her.

A punch slammed into the other side of the wall. Idia flinched.

"Cater!" said the voice, now clearer than before.

And Cater received the message well, turning down the music before giving her housewarden the chance to say anything else.

She turned her head back to Idia, tension dragging her eyebrows down, but not as much as it should've, "Wanna see what Kaly-chan and Lily-chan are up to?"

As easily as the word 'no' popped into her mind, she couldn't for the life of her drag it out of her throat, and hell did she not want to go anywhere. Realising this, her face twisted in terror.

How the fuck did she end up here?

ii˖✩

Honestly, no one was surprised to learn about the estate Jade and Floyd's family owned in Ultramarine City—a building grand and luxurious and conveniently unoccupied, or "open for business at all times", as the tweels phrased it once. What they definitely weren't prepared for, however, was hearing that the plan for the near future was to turn it into a vacation retreat. "And you're all invited at its inauguration!" Idia remembered how she froze in front of her computer, heart beating fast. "Each!" Faster. "One!" Faster. "Of you!" Faster. Her chair slipped from underneath her body as if she were caught in the middle of an earthquake.

Of course, she informed Ortho that she wasn't going anywhere. She had no reason to. Sun scorching her head, heat making her palms sweat, her infuriatingly nosy classmates not letting her complete her dailies. Idia Shroud might have been born with a chain around her ankle, kept tied up to the gates of the Underworld, but there was sure no Hell that could compete with the horrors of not being able to hide her face for an entire week. Predictably, her little sister opposed the thought, instead finding it a great chance for Idia to "loosen up a little." So she insisted. So Idia didn't have it in her to get into a fight with her. So she was here. Trudging through inner ramblings like "What's the deal with people and their sappy need for human connection?" and "I hate beach OVA episodes."

Her sneakers thrummed against the marbled floors of what seemed to be the lobby, someplace akin to an art gallery, or a Purgatory, and there was sunscreen on her nose, so much sunscreen on her nose. With a knot in her throat she noticed that everyone was already there, room keys dangling, trollers whirring. Ortho flew close by, excited to use her memory drive to photograph the sea. Luggage dragged itself automatically behind them as they walked, a gimmick that turned out not to be catching dust after all, to Ortho's relief and Idia's sheer displeasure. Everything around them smelled of sea salt and soap. Carelessly hidden under a light-green lounge stretched the traces of a splatter Idia prayed to all gods existent that it wasn't blood.

And as if this wasn't enough, all across the seat lay the sunbeam woman whose encounter she'd dreaded most, given her recent nightmares with the trip that could now very well be taken as premonitions. Ginger hair falling from a not-so-elaborately tied bun, leg rested on one knee, shoulders already tanned. Her phone fell onto her chest as she noticed the approaching duo.

"No way!" Cater pulled herself into a sitting position, hairband slipping into her lap with the rest of her strands now waving down her shoulders, rays of sunlight contouring her skin. "Both Shroud sisters teaming up to join fun time with their class buds? Now that's magicammable news!" Idia felt targeted. Of course, Cater added her sister to the packaging as her infuriating way to be nice. And she always, under all circumstances, had to be nice.

Ortho bounced forward, ever a voice for Idia when she couldn't find hers, "Nice seeing you too, Diamond-san! Have you settled in your room yet?"

Awkward, "Uhm, sort of. I mean not really."

"What do you mean by that?" Ortho pried, head tilted to the side.

Idia felt a strange pang in her stomach. She wished they could be over with the dragging small talk and go find a room already.

But neither was Cater one not to indulge a conversation, "So apparently they are one room short? And since Trey came down with a cold, like, some nasty stuff, I mean, so bad our housewarden mentioned disinfecting the kitchen after we get back, and couldn't show up, they supposed I was just going to share a room with Adeuce?" She waved after reconsidering the thought. "Don't get me wrong, I love them troublemakers so very much, but I can't be that kind of senpai to them, you know? That's why I texted Kaly-chan and Lily-chan if they can take in a troubled Card Soldier."

Idia's droning, "Press F, uh, well…"

"Good luck and all that, now Ortho and I will be off to our own—"

"Or you can stay with Nee-san!"

What?

"Ortho?!" Idia tried, her blood running cold.

She had read hundreds of novels with this exact same trope, but never in her life had she expected the betrayal to sting as such, a blade in her back that twisted and twisted and twisted until there would be nothing there for it to slice into.

Cater intervened, a small tremble in her voice, "Ortho-chan, you're so cute, but you don't have to trouble yourself for this, or separate yourself from your sister."

"Yeah, Ortho-chan," Idia echoed. "You don't have to!"

Unfazed, "But there's no trouble at all?" Ortho brought then a fist to her mouth, stifling a giggle that Idia gathered her everything to pretend it wasn't there. "To be honest, I did intend to go spend more time with the people in my year." Targeted, again. "So we can switch rooms, affirmatively."

But there was no way Cater would fall for it, wasn't it?

Idia let out a long, quivery, lingering breath.

"Well," another sigh, this one relieved. Fuck. Cater plucked her phone back from the cushioning, action soon followed by her swift fingers typing a text, two, three. "Then Vacay with Cay-Cay it is, bunnies. I'll get my stuff in a sec."

Before Idia knew it, she was being dragged around like a movie prop, Cater on one side, Ortho on the other, their arms linked and their voices sparky, Idia's head a whirring mess. After they dropped by Ace and Deuce's (and Ortho's, it now seemed) room, and the traitor, no, her sister, gave her one more hug buff to prepare the older Shroud for the upcoming multiplayer campaign, it was just her and Cater and the endless hallways, tenebrous free fall, no way out. Through the cacophony of music and laughter soaking the walls as they pushed forward from room to room, cut the clanking sound of Cater's wedges, the mechanical buzz of Idia's troller and the clinking of glasses that occasionally shot from the bags of her soon-to-be roommate. "Here you talk about being that senpai," she would tell her. "But you only wanted to save your head, right?"

iii˖✩

So she didn't have it in her to get into a fight with her sister. So she was here.

Hands in her lap, face down, surrounded by piles of clothing and food. Everything about this room was an explosion of colour and activity, empty bottles lined on top of their mini-fridge, misplaced CDs scattered on the floor like a minefield. But it wasn't the mess that disrupted Idia specifically, no, in fact, part of it didn't differentiate that much from her own room in Ignihyde, her cosy little haven that she had to be pulled from in cold blood. The issue here was the noise. Booming, incessant, no-off-button-attached noise. And it came from where she wasn't expecting it, too, often having to apologise in her head for flinching and turning her head as if she were an animal lost on an open road. She hated feeling so hopeless, especially because she couldn't help it, especially when her stomach churned in sync with her emotions so damn often.

Glass drumming on parquet, rolling and rolling and rolling. Until it swayed at last, and stopped. Lilia provoked Kalim to order ten burger menus from the C&D diner and have them sent to the Headmage's address, "Welp, is that quest even unlocked? From our location?", followed by Lilia's reassurance, "Kalim has access to a different version of the app that can handle errands from pretty much anywhere." Ah, right. Sure. Stupid of her to even ask. And said dare was accomplished, without an inch of hesitation. "Kaly, sweetie," Cater's voice tingled Idia's shoulder. She was peering at the bank statement unfolding on Kalim's phone. "You were not supposed to pay for those." But Kalim didn't seem shaken up in the least. "No matter, I just thought how surprised anyone would be to find a free meal at their door!" Then the bottle rolled again, this time drawing a line from Kalim to Idia. She swallowed a breath. If she could, she would blend with the bed she was propped against, never to return to her original form. Yet a game was still a game, she told herself, no matter how social, how trivial, how repetitive. She had to do her part right.

"Uh," Kalim started, a tinge confused, unusually restrained. "So you were playing too, right?"

Idia could feel her flames catching colour. Yes, she was playing too. It had taken them exactly ten minutes and a whiskey and Red Bull cocktail to convince her. Then her own heart had taken a maddening leap as Cater bounced behind her on Lilia's bed, placing a hand on her shoulder, "With Iddy here I'm sure tonight will be ten times more fun!" Seemingly a bad day for Idia to wear a tank top, but it was a hell of a weather out there, and the atmosphere in this room did nothing but add to the heat.

A strained breath, "Y-yeah, I'm co-opping. I choose dare."

Lilia's voice chimed from somewhere, "Now someone's getting bold."

"Okay! Great!" Kalim's smile stretched to his ears. "Well, I dare you to, uh…"

A pause.

No one intruded on Kalim's moment, like this was part of some kind of habit, one of the many unsaid things the trio had going on, and that Idia had no other choice but to catch up on, or try to, more like, forced into a dungeon campaign for extroverts. She sighed, lips to the edge of her glass.

Kalim eventually placed her hands on her hips, "Hug the person you think is cutest from here!"

"What the Hell?"

Time stopped for a second there as Idia had to cough away the drink she almost choked on.

"Oh, how thrilling!"

"Oh Em Es, Kaly-chan!"

No, not thrilling. Keep the Sevens out of this. This was Hell. Scorching, boiling, skin-ripping Hell.

"Wait, I," Her heart pulsed in her eardrums. "I choose truth."

"I am not sure you are allowed to change your mind, though?" Lilia tapped her bottom lip.

"Okay! Who do you think is cutest then?" Kalim adjusted regardless.

This time, Cater fell uncharacteristically quiet. Was she latching on to Idia's hesitation? Had she been doing it for a while, and only now decided to bend herself around it? Hard to imagine, not with these people, not when everything was so easy for them, so natural, normal even, dare she admit. Was there anything for Idia to take Cater's silence as, that would be displeasure, anticipation of being left with her two fellow energy suckers and discussing how impossible and not fun her company was turning out to be. Well, Idia wasn't necessarily aiming to make an impression tonight.

Then again, with the scenario of the physical contact now discarded, Sevens bless Kalim's disgustingly benevolent soul, what was it that she wanted to avoid? Despite herself, she thought of how some of Cater's hair fell in her eyes, red eyeliner circling that small glimmer of mischief that made Idia's head spin in such a way that she wanted to throw up.

Idia couldn't let such images infiltrate her systems for too long; she pressed to delete the files as soon as they reached her. A reaction to whatever choice she'd voice, yeah, this was the thing she rather dreaded, like choosing a route in an otome game she would do anything not to play.

But the silence broke, "Or you can drink up, if you wanna keep it a secret."

No one informed Idia of this rule. To confirm her confusion, the other two exchanged a glance, so quick she almost missed it. Making new rules on the go was kind of their brand, at the end of the day. Nothing to act to surprised about.

As such, she poured herself another glass. She would do it as many times as she needed to.

iv˖✩

And summoned it was, this word that sought to ease Idia's way out of these so-called life and death scenarios. Need. The world whirred and twirled around her as she walked (swayed) down the hallway, her hair casting iridescent patterns on the walls, Cater's shoulder pressing into hers to keep her balanced. As much as she did not like to admit it, 'fun party time sparkle emoji' with the hyper extroverts hadn't been so bad. Or was she already too drunk and tricked herself with flashes of Lilia recommending the same games she liked? Cater catching the manga references she was making? Having to stop Kalim from buying her the figure that she already ordered hours ago? In other circumstances, she would've hated the thought of people trespassing on a world she considered her own. Now, she kinda hated herself for turning her antivirus off, even for a single beat, hated that she had no option but to cling to this ginger, not capable of walking a straight line herself, each time she felt the floor being swept from under her feet. Some people described this wobbly type of shame as fun.

But ashamed as she was, somehow the laughter was spilling out, grotesquely, unfamiliarly, as if the night, them, locked the real her within the confines of her own body, made to pay witness to the impulses of a mindless shell she could by no means recognise. It continued after Cater found the key to their room, as they tumbled in and Idia met the bed with a thud. Duplicates of the same furniture circled her focus. Even so, she did catch a fraction of her reflection in the mirror. The tips of her hair were yellow.

"Share the joke with the class?" The bed slouched under Cater's weight.

Idia's head was too heavy for her shoulders. Sevens, if only she knew what was going on with this delirious fool. Words left her still, "He will fucking kill me in my sleep. Pull a battle royale or something and I'm first to go."

Perplexed, "Who will now?"

"Him." Idia pointed at the plush headband Cater had left on her nightstand, among other pieces of clutter. It returned the stare in no time, eyes and smile and gloved finger. "This creepy pervy thing of yours."

Cater looked at Idia, then at the incriminated object, then down at her phone case. Laughter followed, a clear, joyful sound that made a flower sprout somewhere inside Idia's stomach. "Stop being mean to him! I think he's cute!"

"You say this until he eats your innards."

"Aighty, I think it's time to put ourselves to sleep."

With this, Cater bounced off the bed, a hand on her hip as she scanned the room for who knows what.

"Already?" Last time Idia checked, it was close to four o'clock in the morning. "Lame."

But she got no answer to that. There was some motion, steps making their way to the bathroom and back, zippers rasping, bags rustling. With the last ounce of control she had over her body dissipated, Idia let herself fall on her back, eyes hurled towards a ceiling that kept popping off, making her head pirouette along with it. She should close her eyes. No, bad idea, horrible idea, for now her bed was replaced with a rollercoaster cart, climbing and climbing and climbing before propelling itself into the abyss.

A landing, someone straddling her without warning. Soon, Idia felt coldness on her eyelids, hot breathing on her neck. Error pop-ups overlaying, heated ventilators, frozen display.

She caught Cater's concentrated face with an open eye, "The fuck are you doing?!"

"Whaddya think?" The ginger discarded a used pad to her side, blotched with black eyeliner. She pinched her cheek. "I'm taking your makeup off."

"Didn't ask you to." Didn't ask for any of this, truth be told.

"You pretty much don't look capable of doing it yourself either, bunny, so." Tap, tap, tap. The back of Cater's fingers was soft as they brushed over Idia's temples. "Takes only a couple of secs, hang on."

Idia wished she could push her away. "You're so full of crap." That somehow she could retrieve the ropes of her own body and escape from this position that burned her circuits to no end. "So full of bullshit." Sadly, her other self appeared to lean into the heat, into the slight, attentive touches, not as much exhausted but soothed, muscles and tissues and capillaries enchanted as if by a lullaby.

And she moved with the tune, that miserable fiend, followed Cater to the edge of her chosen bed where the ginger helped her change into lighter clothing. "Y'know what?" A whisper ghosted over Idia's bare collarbone. "Had I been made to choose the cutest face in a room, I'd have chosen you. For reals." A strain in her chest. "What?" But maybe she didn't get it right, for what followed after that was a plain, detached,"Nothing."

Perfume. Her perfume was everywhere. Why did she use to fear it before? What was there to fear in the first place? The same way the moon billowed with the ripple of waves outside, there was nothing she wanted more for that one single minute than to lose herself in its luring clutches. Seemed like the creature tying her systems into knots was into poetics, too. How gross.

"Hey," Idia attempted as she felt the blanket fall on her. The initial intention was not to let Cater see them, so she wouldn't have any opening to her uncomfortable comments, so that Idia would make it out of the trip unscathed. Yet, "Can you do one last favour for me?"

Promptly, reflexively, "Yeah?"

"My luggage, front pocket." She couldn't believe the words spilling out of her mouth. "I've got two plushies in there."

Was there a chuckle she heard there? Was Cater making fun of her? "You kidding."

"I wish I were," Idia said back.

Without pushing for further elaboration, Cater stretched to reach the troller, careful fingers looking for the pieces of merchandise that Idia had been secretly dragging with her everywhere she was going to stay for more than one day, for, uh, moral support. It didn't take long until she found the things matching the description, two impish figures, one purple and one teal, now tilting their stitched heads in her hands.

Eyes shifting from one plushie to another, "I watched this series, back when I was little. My sisters were crazy about it."

Of course she did.

"Of course you did," Idia murmured, eyes half-open, barely there. She could feel the ceiling pressing down on her, squeezing her head with all its might. It would hurt twice as much in the morning.

"There you go, champ," Cater said as she left the toys on Idia's bed, with a voice that was barely recognisable. "Night-night, and see ya tomorrow."

Then Idia felt her mouth move, as if to also put together a 'good night', or even a 'thank you', words scorching her chest and throat, but the world started to shut itself before she would have a chance to muster anything. There was a pathetic hope she would at any minute be met with the warmth of a touch, arms around her, keeping her in place for when the bed would race away again, rollercoaster ride reaching a higher difficulty mode.

What she heard instead were steps, more rustling, sink water turned on and off. Idia drifted away faster than the thoughts trudging through her head, the worry of having to face whatever storyline was to be generated by the choices her false self had made.

Loading screen pulsed and blinked to a dreamless sleep.

v˖✩

No one was there when Idia awoke. Only her and her dried throat and a crushing headache. The banging sound of dumbbells slamming into her ceiling, someone's floor, or homemade gym. The curtains were shut, keeping the light from spilling in and disrupting her sleep, Idia assumed, or rather, simply forgotten like that, from some need to run away from this mess of a room as quickly as possible. Understandable enough. As her senses gradually recovered, her nostrils were touched (punched) by a strange mix of alcohol and citrus and tea, the latter two discerned with a flip of her heart. She looked down, horrified to find herself in a T-shirt she didn't own. Did she and Cater—no, Idia remembered the night remarkably well, fragmented and anomalous as it was. More out of instinct than real concern, she then looked for her phone. Flipped down on her nightstand, hopefully set there by herself. Idly, she checked the hour. Somewhere past three in the afternoon. Her notifications came next; submerged in unclaimed bonuses and event reminders and APs refilled, two dots awaited for Idia to fish them out, one check-in from Ortho, and the other, a message request sent to her non-game account. "off to the beach ✨✨ but u lmk when u wake up kay?" it read.

Following chichi influencers from her school was not on her bingo list for this summer, but she pressed that button anyway, sending a half-hearted thumbs-up emoji as a reply before assuring the traitor, no, her sister, that everything was fine on her end. She wouldn't even be lying. At least feeling screwed up would leave her with a good enough reason not to join any sketchy activity her classmates were to come up with today. Idia might just as well thank the pop music trio for giving her an entire day for rotting in bed and playing games.

She was deep into a rhythm level the moment another message popped, "yay she livesss<3", and then one more, "u want smth to eat??" Like it wasn't enough for Idia to push through her nausea as is, promising herself she wouldn't throw up and everything, since there was nothing she hated more at this moment than the possibility of being found kneeling by a toilet. Now that she thought about it, she did feel like her stomach ached for a little more than usual, like most of the pain pulsing in her head would cool down, she hoped, after a meal. If only she'd gotten some extra gummies from Ignihyde. She closed her eyes, then opened them. Typed, "uhm sure u can bring in a snack."

The reply came within a beat, dragging a sigh from Idia's throat as it did, "leave it to cay cay 💅✨🏃‍➡️". Hopefully, Cater would do her thing, not engage in much conversation, then leave Idia back to enjoying her conveniently uneventful day. After all, she had her own vacation plans to wrap herself with, filming reels or whatever her kind of people liked to do; something about playing dares and asking intrusive questions along those lines. Idia didn't know what demon possessed her as she suddenly watched herself tapping past Cater's Magicam stories, her eyes occasionally lifted towards the door. A selfie on a beach towel, drinks poured in neon-coloured glasses, her cassette player, pink sunglasses, picture with the first-years in her dorm, Riddle Rosehearts reading a book (trying to), all smiles and sun-kissed shoulders.

And without a means to prevent it, her guts tied themselves into a knot. Idia knew that nothing posted online was to be taken for granted, and even so, they did something to her, those smiles, the fact that someone out there was capable of working such sincere joy even with the sun shooting lasers into their flesh and the sound of screaming kids ripping their ears off. Ortho had told her at some point how she wished she had real skin to bask under the sun, like, feel the heat, and Idia had made her a new sensory chip just for that, despite not really getting it. If there was someplace designed for recharging one's batteries, that would be a bed. Yeah, that settled better for her. At least this image did not try to strangle every functional organ in her body. Idia would much rather prefer staying in bed than losing her mind on some dirty beach.

Steps and voices blasted on the other side of the door. She managed to close the app before her phone slipped onto the floor.

Close one.

vi˖✩

She brought a fry to her mouth, slowly, sluggishly, like eating in itself exhausted her. For what's worth, her head didn't bother her like before, and her stomach was put back into place, sort of. They'd improvised a dining table out of the TV stand, chairs dragged, napkins laid out. Idia had to crouch into an impossibly painful position, legs burying themselves within each other, back strained, but she was still grateful for not being pressured to eat on the balcony, where someone could've seen her at any time. To her surprise, or further discomfort, Cater stayed, and just like her second nature required of her, like Idia was aware it would, she talked. About everything and everyone, with Idia spacing out on occasion, the only quiet falling when the ginger rummaged through her share of food.

"Good thing you escaped Lily-chan's dares," Cater's voice popped back in. When did the conversation bring them here? "She can be a little, uh, extreme."

Food in her mouth, deadpan, "You did them, though."

It took Cater a moment to respond, "That's because I got used to them, I guess? Since we've been hanging out so much and all." She took another bite, another slurp of her drink. "What I meant was it's completely ok and understandable if you felt a little overwhelmed last night."

It'd been hell on earth. "'s fine, some save files got deleted so it doesn't matter anyway."

She wouldn't let it go, "Hope not the ones where you looked like you were having fun."

"Especially those," Idia huffed before Cater would have the chance to add anything else. There was a pause, a moment of respite, similar to an exhale. Then she lowered her head into her hands, barely reaching an octave. "Praying I didn't say anything stupid."

"You made us take 'Guess the Anime Opening' quizzes," Cater said without wasting a beat.

Head buried in her arms, hair drawing out a lifeless glow, "Kill me now. I'm ready."

"Whoa, easy there. It was no biggie," Cater's voice was sickeningly sweet. It made some of Idia's nausea start to push back. "We laughed. We had fun. And you also played the bottle, right? Call it cultural exchange."

"Won't make me feel any better."

"I know. I'm just giving you my POV."

Even if she would think otherwise, Idia knew Cater wasn't the type of person to express disapproval like that; say to her face that she'd been spooked or weirded out. If anything, Idia expected to become herself a topic of conversation when this charisma-level-twenty bard would share fries and lemonade with someone else. But that was ok. Idia didn't have much of a reputation at uni anyway, from not going to uni in the first place, from letting the average student life walk past her—that kinda discourse.

"Whatever," she said.

"Now, now, let's see where to throw these," changing the topic, to Idia's relief. A creak of a chair, and eventually she looked up to find Cater discarding a handful of used napkins into her empty fry box. Maybe with this, the extrovert would pick on her "vacay" activities, and Idia would be free to return to her games.

vii˖✩

Two days melted themselves away for Idia like ice cream on a rubber shoe; apathetically, lifelessly. But that was good. No action meant safe, at the end of the day. Even more so in an environment Idia had not chosen for herself, and she did whatever there was in her power to keep it like that, to keep herself safe. Ignore the ruckus hitting the hallways. Skip breakfast, join Ortho for lunch. Only go out to the beach when Ortho would ask her to play their geogame together, since apparently, there was a battle base steps away from the estate. Hooray.

As premeditated, Cater did invite Idia to join her on her social undertakings, snooker meetups and dance nights and beach parties, but when the blue-haired said no to all of it, she didn't push it. Lessons learned? Or did she simply get tired of trying? However, Idia's inbox filled itself with selfies and shots of random things and unsolicited pieces of gossip. All part of their "roomie update log," how Cater had decided to call it. Unnecessary and pretentious (was she trying to fling her happy, unbothered social life to her, after all?) as those were, Idia would be lying if she said she didn't work a smile at receiving a picture of a cat living her best life on a boulder, "she says hi!!!!!" Somehow, for the first time, Idia wished she was there, a fleeting thought. What stayed with her instead (unfortunately, shamefully) was a strange kind of gratification from being shared bits of Cater's life that the rest of social media couldn't see—not with her whole self, that is, but a hidden, torturous side of Idia that she didn't know how to uninstall, a life-sucking Trojan she caught from the day she first checked Cater's profile.

Worst times were when she returned, hair wet, sand sneaking into her swimming top. When the music boomed again, and Cater's voice bounced against the walls. Or late at night, when she faced Idia from her twin bed, asking her about her own day, entitlement skill unlocked. "Like you don't already know what was up, pest," yet there was no way she could drag so many words out, saying in return, "I gamed." Then Cater tried again, like she always did, "Gamed, like, what?" And Idia had no choice but to tell her, drag this person (who could've just as well feigned her interest, and now faced the consequences by hearing Idia's endless rambling) further into her world.

Soon, Cater's breath fell on her mouth while she slept. When did their beds get pushed together? For all she knew, Idia did it herself, the possibility sparking in her a vicious rage she struggled to find a place for.

viii˖✩

The virus expanded concernedly fast, pushing its claws into Idia's throat, depriving her of her air at the sight of Cater's update posts. She grew sick of her face, her smile, that one crooked tooth that poked out as she smirked to the camera. On the fifth night of their stay, between quests, she was met with a particular story—mirror selfie, someone's bathroom, not theirs, lips parted, weird eyes. And despite her very efforts against it, it drove Idia insane, or better said, made her feel frustrated for having to stop and stare at this woman every single fucking time, for letting her rip her stomach open like that, guts pulled out, helpless. Was she trampling on her on purpose? If she did, why her? From the hundreds of lip-puckering trendies that Cater could leash, why was it Idia to feel the leather around her throat? Or was it the attention these people craved, and nothing else, no matter the giver? Well, in that case.

That's when the first mistake happened.

Driven by her sudden anger, on herself, her gullibility, and on Cater, her carelessness, Idia pressed the like button. Attention she would receive, then. She would know that Idia was looking. She should know.

It was laughable; how fast her action ignited a response. Her phone blinked,

cay-cay ✨

liking my thirst traps now stalkie?

ur naughty 🙀

i.shr

n what if i did?

cay-cay ✨

nothin at all

it was a nice shot 😋

but im pretty sure it wouldve looked

better with u in it<3

So it happened again, her pulling on her leash, tighter and tighter as Idia's head buzzed from the lack of air. It was so easy for her, so easy to flip the cards with nothing more than a patchwork of words. Idia's hair reflected on the open chat as it gleamed a shade of pink that later bled into orange. Too bad for the redhead that the keyboard was Idia's best friend.

i.shr

u think so?

only if u like how u look

w/ a hand on ur throat

but thats not so cammable

content now isnt it

cay-cay ✨

ur right its not

tho ur underestimating me

if u assume i post Every

pic i take

thought u realised that by now

i.shr

u sayin alot for someone

askin for a hand on their throat

cay-cay ✨

yk that im lookin for more

than just that from u right?

i.shr

like what

cay-cay ✨

thats a secret u wont pull

from me that easily babe 🫶😌

i.shr

pain in the ass

is what i get

cay-cay ✨

keeps things fun id say

Then it hit her: was Cater drunk? She was sure she'd seen something on the stories prior to this one, a sparkly whatever in a magenta glass. Idia checked the time: two AM. Oh well. Cater's typing game proved decent. However, that did not mean that there weren't people out there who could hit the keys right while their mind was all teetery; especially someone as chronically online as Cater Diamond. It did not erase the fury accumulated during the last days, but Idia had to know—whether she should draw a line, leave the outrage for when Cater would be able to grasp it. But how to know? Ask her, ask someone else? Sigh. By no means did she have the energy to open another chat.

So she thought, thought, and thought. Typed, erased, retyped. Eventually, Cater got ahead of her with an addition to her previous text.

cay-cay ✨

answer when it knocks 👀

What now? How much the ginger's games irritated her, infuriated her, made her want to punch a hole into a wall if she had the strength to.

i.shr

??

A moment passed. Idia found herself hovering to the bathroom, fixing as much of her hair as she could, hating herself for the dark circles under her eyes. Blue bounced off the tiles surrounding her, the mirror returning her an awkward smile. Why was she putting in that much effort? What did she intend to prove?

She worried about making an impression, about how it would affect what was about to happen between them; that was her second mistake.

Idia kissed her teeth as she fixated on her reflection one more time. Soon, there were some knocks at their door, like a secret code no one decided on. As instructed, Idia went to answer it.

And there she was.

Cater, in her red mini-top and black jean shorts. Cater, with silver chains around her neck and gold glitter on her cheeks. Cater, wearing her hair in a loose ponytail. Cater, smelling of her citrus creams and unbirthday party teas. Cater, whose grin hiked as she locked stares with Idia.

She hated her. She wanted her. Fuck, how much she wanted her.

"So? My stalker said something about a photo redo?" the ginger hummed, strand of hair curled around her index. Not drunk, resulted from an initial scan. At least not much. Good.

Idia stepped forward. Breathy, unsure, "I think I'll kiss you."

Hands on her waist, dragged her close, closer, the closest. Cater spoke in a voice she hadn't heard before, but that shook Idia to her core. "Kiss me, then."

And she did, swipe her fingers underneath her top and pull her into the kiss, a wet, sloppy one that dulled the entirety of Idia's senses, and as a result, her locks erupted into a flash of blue and pink. With the door ultimately closed behind them, Idia pushed Cater against the wooden surface, a thud echoing at the impact.

Breaking the kiss, Cater managed, "So there is some spunk in ya."

Idia stared proudly at her smudged lipstick.

"Shut up," she said at last, and kissed Cater again, taking in the small moan coaxed from her with the sudden action, not having enough, never having enough. She would melt her own essence and blend it with Cater's; still, it would not be enough.

After a while, she felt nails dig into her back, hands travel across her spine and underneath her Premo T-shirt. Idia left her lips, leaning down to her neck where she sucked and bit, a hand on her hip, another on her chest—Cater's chest, the way it bounced at P.E. each time she climbed down her broom, and how satisfyingly plush it felt now under Idia's palm. Further losing herself into sensation, she pushed a thumb into where she could feel a nipple.

Mouth descending to her collarbone, "You're fucking horrible. Making me lose it like this."

Cater's laughter resounded into space above Idia's head. "The praise I was looking for was 'good kisser' or 'freaking hot', but I can live with that as well."

She would like that, wouldn't she not?

The thought flared in Idia's head as her teeth punctured through the cloth, not caring at all about Cater's carefully chosen attire. The hand resting on her hip reached then to pull her hair, dragging Cater's gaze onto her own, "You'd do anything to hear those, hm, Card Soldier?" And she lingered on the last two words. "Always so obedient for a pat on the head."

Strained as she was, Cater didn't shy away from sharing the stare, green eyes shining greener in the dim light, "Maybe I just know how to pull my strings right."

"Really?" Idia chuckled against her chest. "Let's see where they will get you this time."

So she dragged the top down, breasts springing free, flush and expectant. Idia tugged at her hair again, mouth clasped around one nip, her free hand hooked on the other, thumbing and twisting. The door rattled in sync with each jerk and shudder of Cater's body, harmonised with the shameless repertoire of whines that filled the room as Idia continued to ravage her. Idia wasn't sure when that happened, but her hand was no longer curled into her hair, but down, further down, feeling Cater's crotch through her jeans. Only when she let go of her chest, now bit and marked and draped with sweat, mouth pulled away with a hurried pop, did she fully kneel, fingers rushing onto the zipper. Faced with a peek of her underwear, however, Idia got zapped with a thought: and now what?

There had to be at least one hentai that had taught Idia about tongue work. How about her fingers, then? No, she breathed in, username Gloomy Samurai, rhythm game world champion, need not worry about her button-pressing skills. Breathed out. How about she started with the thigh, then make her beg for Idia's mouth on the rest?

Thankfully, Cater pulled her from the spiral. "Hey," she said. "You sure you want to do this here?"

"Uh, yeah, well, where el—"

Yet before she could put the question together, Cater pulled her by the collar of her shirt, urging her back up, and she followed, enthralled, until Idia was able to feel her hot breath on her neck.

Someone else pressing their body against her back, "At least take me out for dinner before getting me in such an uncomfortable position."

Wait. No.

Lips that smiled without humour. Everything Idia had touched and tasted blasted into a sprawl of game cards.

No, no, no.

Suddenly, Idia's hair shifted from pink to orange. "You bitch," she snarled, turning around to face Cater, the real Cater, who fucking thought that she could just wink her rage away. She looked exactly like minutes ago, when she'd met Idia on the threshold, and that was exactly the thing pushing on her nerves. She looked immaculate. "You think this is funny?"

"They call it 'new game', Iddy," Cater flung her arms around her neck. "Of all people, I thought you'd be into these kinda things."

Who did she think she was, using her thing against her?

"Obviously I'm not," she tried to say, if it weren't for Cater's mouth back on hers, hotter, hungrier than before. And Idia kissed back, because she couldn't resist it, not tonight, not when her entire body infuriatingly admitted to be craving this woman, her sounds, her taste. Cater stepped back, dragging Idia along with her, a frantic dance.

When the back of Cater's legs found the edge of their beds, she crooned, "Too bad I'm so into watching you heat up for me like this." Saying this, she raked her fingers through Idia's hair, "Well, literally."

"Cause you're annoying," Idia straddled Cater as soon as she hit the mattress.

"Must be rough," Cater further taunted, chests pressed together. "Oh, poor baby."

That was it. Even now, she let Cater get into her head, the pest, the irreparable glitch. And so, she threw her hand around the ginger's throat, her back pushed into the sheets. Idia's third mistake.

She wanted to dismantle the fuck out of her. With her thumb pushing up her chin, Idia kissed, bit, and sucked places she hadn't been aware were there; jaws and collarbone, breasts and stomach, Cater's top discarded as far as possible, desperate to indulge as much as she could before this form would turn out to be a fake as well. So far, it wasn't. One could never be sure. As soon as her throat was freed, Cater herself didn't stray away from taking whatever from Idia came her way, pulling down her T-shirt and biting down in the middle of her chest, where her heart should be.

Heat. Everywhere Cater touched, she felt heat. Every sound she gave her made Idia's blood boil.

A breeze swept up her bare spine. At some point, she noticed that the door to their balcony was open, and there was a shadow in the form of a broom stretched from outside. So that was how she—

"Freak," Idia drawled, breath white-hot.

"Kiss me, Idia," Cater rasped at the absence of Idia's mouth on her, no longer caring about responding to her insults, digging her nails into her spine instead. The urgency in her tone was something Idia understood, but didn't necessarily know what to make of when it came from someone like Cater.

Despite herself, Idia obliged, leaning back down to slam her mouth against hers. Bottom lip between her teeth, her fingers began to weave their way across her chest and abdomen and further down her hip, thumb trying towards her inner thigh. She clipped the button open and unzipped the shorts with little effort. A D20 roll. Thank the Sevens. Cater shifted her lower body to aid, jeans dragged down her legs, slipping off an ankle. Idia wasted no time sliding her fingers underneath her boxers, thumb at her clit, two fingers probing at her surprisingly wet entrance.

A chuckle tickled her mouth, "You're pink again."

Even though the remark should flare her frustration back on, Idia caught her strands of hair out of the corner of her eyes, then simply let her head collapse, muffling into Cater's shoulder, "Proud?"

Not long after, her digits moved, rubbed, explored. Guided by her reactions, picking where her moans boomed louder and her body twisted, Idia was fast (she hoped) to learn how to bend her thrusts to Cater's affinity. The way her walls stretched around her fingers made Idia's mind a fogged mess.

"Startled, ah, I guess," Cater eventually replied. Her lips glistened, and her cheeks looked feverish. If Idia didn't have better things to keep herself busy with, she'd photograph it, her fucked out face. "Sometimes I forget you're supposed to hate my guts or whatevs."

But the worst part was, she couldn't even say anything back to this, because Idia wasn't sure herself anymore, her software fried completely. Idia thrusted into her deeper, faster, drowning her thoughts with sounds, muffling her anxieties with the salty taste of skin, up until her mind filled itself with nothing more than Cater—not what she felt about her, but her, simply her.

When the movement stopped, it was only in an attempt to drag herself between Cater's legs. Then she felt a peck on the corner of her lip, a stomach-turning, disgustingly sweet one.

Her purring voice vibrated against Idia's cheek, "Greedy, aren't we?" Shortly after that, there was a playful pinch on both of her nipples. "Hardly letting me touch you back, what should I do about it, hm?"

She was right. Idia was a greedy creature; there was no contesting it. A selfish one as well, for that matter, for no comment could take her mind off the ache she felt for tasting more of Cater, taking her in to her entire core. But Idia downed herself too much in her head again to do anything about the bed creaking as Cater repositioned so that her nose poked at the hem of Idia's stay-in shorts, and Idia was faced with Cater's arousal-stained underwear. It was unnerving, each time it felt like Cater could peek into her mind.

Cater pulled Idia's pants down, and her panties right after them. She sighed into her pink-tinted bush, the tip of her fingers brushing across her happy trail, a free hand squeezing her ass, each action an electricity shock to her heat. Idia groaned, irritatingly loud. She didn't even touch her properly.

"This makes us even, I believe," Cater reacted to the sound as she left a small kiss above her clit, ever the teaser.

"Whatever will keep you from talking."

"You bet?"

And Idia, ever the taker, had to restrain herself from ripping Cater's boxers from her lower body, taking them between her teeth and spitting them away. She settled on hooking a forefinger in before she would drag the material off in a persistent motion. Cater's bush was a trimmed mass of pale ginger, thought out like her entire fucking life. Idia stretched her folds with two fingers and dived in. Sucked, licked, devoured, a creature starved. When Cater followed suit with a tongue draped across her slit, she could feel her eyes roll back into her head. Oh, this was good. She was good; taste and scent and swinging hips. Idia had touched herself before, many times, in the comfort of her room in Ignihyde. Though this feeling she hadn't experienced with any toy she owned.

The walls drenched themselves with the smell of sex and sweat, their squelching sounds. Idia's nose pushed further in, fingers and tongue working in tandem to find a rhythm of their own. As promised, Cater was liberal with her responses, her voice coming out in sighs, huffs, high-pitched cries between licks. "'s good," she said. "Yeah, there," she begged, legs locked around her neck. "I'm there, fuck, I'm—" she announced with quivery urgency. Whether them being an act or not, Idia was too frenzied to care, lost in her own tonalities. "That's it," she heard herself saying. "Come like a little slut," she urged.

There was a second, a fleeting moment in which Idia soothed circles into Cater's inner thigh, lapping at the remnants of her orgasm as the kisses gradually returned to Idia's own cunt, resolute to pull her down the edge of the same cliff. And it was working. Her wits were seared. As soon as Cater picked her pace, lips twisted, chuckles fragrant, all the things she imprinted on her like an illness, Idia's hips started to move, too, chasing a high she didn't want to lose sight of. Faster she ground against Cater's mouth, and Cater must've caught on her delirium, for her palms now latched on both sides of Idia's lower body, aiding the friction.

Idia came with a long, lingering groan into Cater's cunt, like hiding between her legs would spare her the judgment of an outer world. All while Cater continued to indulge her as she rode her orgasm, flat tongue and plush digit rubbing her in all the right places, until her entire body short-circuited. She stood still for a while, numbed out and spent, before Cater's muffled voice brought her back to her senses.

"Doing great, babes," she told her, pressing another kiss on her folds.

Before she knew it, the ginger moved to face her, a perfectly messed-up image with makeup gathered below her eyes and her lips coated in slick. The moon cast its glacial contours across the wet tips of her hair. She was breathtaking like that, Idia realised. No, she was always, maddeningly, frustratingly, breathtaking. Cater brought then a thumb to Idia's lips, gathering herself across her face and pushing her mouth slightly open. Only a memory of how she tasted, never for her to forget. And how could she?

Cater's nail rested on her chin as she whispered with half-lidded eyes, "You're beautiful, y'know that?"

A pang in her heart.

"Why are you telling me this?" Idia mouthed in the absence of something else to say.

Small laughter, foot rubbing against her own, "What, am I blocked from saying it or?"

Idia tried her best not to roll her eyes.

"I just, dunno," she struggled, pink flaring. "Didn't expect it."

"Then expect it," Cater breathed into Idia's mouth. "Or I'm making you do it."

So she crawled on top of her, conveniently poised at her entrance as she lifted her thigh, hooking one of Idia's legs around her waist.

Idia couldn't help herself, "Feelin' mighty today, rose garden lackey?"

Masking the displeasure, "Thought my latest card trick would pull these jokes from your routine."

"Nah," Idia's hand flattened across her ass. "That resentful pout's always worth it. Cause you're bitter like that after all, yeah? Something like pop candy."

Idia would take her on her tongue, pack after pack, let her explode into a whirl of emotions, accept them all as her own.

There was a short, discreet exhale, something between amusement and incredulity. No more seconds wasted, Cater let her lips collapse onto hers, Idia's own flavour glued this time to her taste buds, and her hips started rolling into her cunt in slow, deliberate motions. Reflexively, Idia thrusted up to match the pace, kissing back with ruthless need, all teeth and swinging breaths, nails that pinned themselves into her back. The balcony door clattered with the wind, the salty air hugging their nostrils, the sound of crashing waves entwining with their octaves. The makeshift bed screeched under their forms. As Cater lifted herself for better friction, breasts bouncing, sweat rolling off her skin, Idia took a moment to store away the way her hair traced a reflection across the redhead's face, a soft shade of pink that sank into the nighttime glow.

She pulled her hips closer, shoved herself harder into Cater's dripping sex. Then she slapped her ass, once, twice after that, earning a moan and a ripple of movements. This would show her neighbours. Lost in her own momentum, she touched everywhere, allowed to be touched everywhere, took in the pleasure erupting at the contact. Until she felt it again, the bobbling heat, that close, closer culmination that awaited to crash upon her in thousands of fragments. And the moment it hit, it hit hard, having Idia clutch at the redhead with all the strength she could muster, bite down into her shoulder to make up for the lack of it. Cater followed her after a while, her rhythm broken, disjointed, and soon dispersing with a powerful shudder. The descent was with a kiss on Idia's bottom lip, a kiss on her neck. She slumped at Idia's chest before blowing a strand of hair from her own eyes.

"Uh," Idia waited a little. "GGWP?"

A snort into her collarbone, "This can't be for real."

"So it wasn't?" she tried again.

"You're such a fucking dork."

"Says the one fucking the dork."

Cater trailed then a hand up Idia's neck, flicking her chin, "And I wouldn't trade this for anything in the world."

Their sheets were a mess, flipped and dug into, further creasing under their tangled legs. There was a pair of panties hanging from the handle of their balcony door. Clothes scattered around, misplaced phones. Good thing none of them had started packing yet.

Idia's fourth, and final mistake, was that she let all of her feelings pour into her, even those that she'd wanted to deny. And now she didn't know what to do with them.

ix˖✩

Summer air, darkness, lethargy. An exasperated exhale crawled through the quiet, a sharp series of clicks coming from the balcony. Idia had felt the arms leaving the embrace while she tried to fall asleep; felt the bed emptying itself, and the slight coldness sneaking inside as soon as doors were opened. At first, she had thought the retreat would be short, a matter of seconds. Then she noticed a hint of ginger on the other side of the windows. And the clicks.

Her steps were meek and unsure as she walked towards the balcony, which, until now, she didn't know consisted of one coffee table and two outdoor chairs, armrests bumping into each other, or that the table came with an ashtray for visitors. Next to it sat Cater, legs crossed and unlit cigarette in mouth, oversized guitar T-shirt thrown over her knees, losing temper over a dysfunctional lighter. A strange sight; Cater was never one to lose her temper.

Idia reached to light Cater's cigarette with her thumb, a trick she'd learned when lighters let her down, or she felt too nervous to ask for one. A blink later, Cater wordlessly thanked her, quick to drag the smoke into her lungs. Idia took the seat next to her.

"Where's your stinky IQOS thing?" she started, ironically sick with the silence.

The smoke curled into the sky in blissful stripes.

"There's still so much you don't know about me," Cater's mouth coiled into a smile, not the kind Idia knew, but a small, sour one that lanced straight into her heart.

Another silence, another drag.

Cater offered to pass on the cigarette, which Idia took without hesitating, leaning down in her chair. The tip still tasted like her, and for a second there she lost herself into the smoke like it were a kiss.

Suddenly, the ginger spoke again, forearms resting on her knees, "You think I'm playing you, right?"

She wasn't sure she got it. "Sorry?"

Embarrassment slipped into Cater's voice, "Like, I'm aware I'm not really the person to stick around, or stick around for, cause I'm not used to this shit, I'm really not, and I fuck out as soon as I'm asked to soft launch. So I get it if my attempts with you seemed, well, off."

A falling sensation in Idia's stomach. Did this mean that she—

She flinched a little at the feeling of Cater's head on her shoulder.

"I do have a tendency to run," the redhead carried on, faint. "But I'd never toy with your feelings, Iddy."

Somehow, she understood it. When the time would come, Idia herself would need to leave everything behind to take the reins of her family's company, that accursed place. It was easier not to have anything to leave behind in the first place. Before her eyes, light let itself be swayed into the horizon, water hissed when brought to crash into the vacant sands. Always moving, fluctuating, letting things happen. Such was nature, with all of its incalculable intricacies. It scared her, truly. But at that moment, the thought of living her whole life anticipating an inert future scared her even more.

Idia puffed on the cigarette one more time before pushing it into the corner of Cater's mouth. Suddenly, she felt possessed by a foreign sentiment of rebellion. It made her take Cater's hand into hers, holding it as if for dear life, with a thumb that brushed over the knuckles. They would be ok.

"If you run, I'll chase."

x˖✩

The lobby presented itself as animated (tiresome) as it had been on the first day of their stay. Steps clicked and clicked as people carried their luggage down the stairs, checked out, shared pictures, souvenirs. Cater had been called in for a dorm emergency meeting before their departure (something about the first years, something about one of them having puked all over their bathroom, bad ending sort of outcome; Ortho had promised to fill her in with the details once as they would get home), and now Idia hovered by the reception desk, a restless spectre, her face fixed to the screen of her phone to avoid inciting a conversation of any kind. As soon as Ortho would meet up with her, they would be over with this shit. Thirty-something minutes left. Twenty-something, fifteen.

"Idia-san," a smothered voice.

Great.

Idia looked up to meet Jade Leech's placid hospitality.

"We sincerely hope you enjoyed your stay in our one-person room," she continued with a hand brought to her chest.

A couple of steps behind the mermaid, Floyd gave Idia a loose thumbs-up, something close to an inside joke. It made her want to scream.

"Uh, s-sorry," she did her best not to exchange stares. "What room again?"

Surprise widened Jade's eyes.

"Oh?" she said, giving it a moment of thought. "While it is true that we at first experienced a disturbance in our systems erasing the room in its entirety, it shortly reappeared as booked on our side. We suspected it was you, Idia-san. Or any Ignihyde student for that matter."

"Well, it wasn't me," Idia rushed to clarify her case.

"Understood." And there it was again, that shady smile, now with a hint of playfulness in it. "This is a rather curious incident, now, don't you agree?"

Even if she wanted to, Idia did not have enough air in her lungs to laugh. Because, if what Jade had just divulged turned out to be true, and not part of some weird mermaid mind game, this could only come down to one thing. She kept the thought with her as she watched Ortho, no, the traitor, a shrewd Dungeon Master with access to any computer she wanted and a relish in stripping Idia of her intimacy, floating down the spiral staircase, tilting her head and waving in her direction. Not guilt-ridden, but joyful, and jumpy, like everything was good in the world.

So it goes.