#reflections.

i keep waking up on the couch today. small blackouts between each time.

this morning was the first. no blanket. half naked with lipstick smeared on my face and skin under my nails. lights all off. my neck hurt too, like i fell asleep in the wrong position and got cramps.

can’t remember yesterday past noon.. maybe one. there’s a gap. the kind i can feel significance in. like something was there, and then it was just gone.

anyways.

i’m not alone, i found.

there’s a cat here.

small, calico. big, yellow eyes. didnt look all that old.

it was sitting in the hallway when i woke up. staring at me like it had lived there forever, and i was the one out of place.

i’ve never owned a cat. i’ve always been allergic.

she was friendly, though. in the “i know you” way, brushing up on my legs like it’s known me forever. even followed me into the kitchen, sat on the counter and watched as i made myself tea. it didn’t blink much either, really.

i checked the doors after that. windows. all locked. no signs of breaking and entering either, so.. clearly it was here when i went to bed last night, whenever i did.

i opened the door later on. tried to shoo her out.

didn’t move. she just tilted her head like she was waiting for an actual command. i tried. fetch didn’t exactly work, though.

then, i just.. fed it tuna. felt right? like it was the right thing to do, i guess. it didn’t eat it until i looked away.

she’s sleeping in my room now, in my bed. if i try to leave her alone here, or move, i get that feeling in my ribs - like someone elses heartbeat. so. i guess i’m stuck with her now.

MAGDALENA CLARKE AS — JOAN OF ARC.

alva rolls over in the bed, phone still in their grip and lit up to their recent messages. it’d been over twenty minutes since their last exchange with sejun --- or lack thereof --- and they had been scrolling up again and again to read everything again and again until the tears in their eyes blurred their vision to shit. and it wasn’t just the texts with sejun, it was also the texts with jess.  

god, how had they been so stupid. they had sex with seoah. never before had alva been so sick with regret. there was honestly no excuse and no other way to explain it than it just happening. they didn’t think of the consequences, the breach in trust, the boundaries crossed. and they should have, too. they should have known better. if they had, then maybe they’d still have sejun, and they’d still have jess. 

and what had happened between sejun and dj --- whatever it was, whether it was just a kiss like rome said or something more --- was their right to do so. alva and sejun made it clear several times throughout their courtship that they were just having fun, nothing more. alva had no right to be as upset as they were. they never struck a claim on sejun but even if they had, dj had been historically known to take despite it. 

still, there was that tender ache in their chest that hadn’t been there in a while. they thought it had been fixed months ago when a friendship became lingering stares and intimate talks. they thought it wouldn’t hurt anymore when their feelings started to manifest in a way they hadn’t in a long time. they thought being okay meant they could trust and open up and have hope that they could be enough. but it seems like they were wrong. 

i cleaned the living room.

it took hours. longer than it should have, because i kept stopping. standing still. forgetting what i was holding. forgetting where i was.

the rug’s back in place. floorboards all scrubbed raw. the towels are gone. but i swear the room still smells like rust.

the light in the hallway hasn’t stopped flickering either. i haven’t fixed it, though. i’m afraid that if i do, it’ll stop counting.

the blood is gone now. mostly.

there’s a faint pink hue at the edges of the baseboard, but i think i’m the only one who’ll notice.

i flipped the cushions. i lit a candle. i vacuumed. i even put on music for a little while. but it felt like i was trying to distract a ghost.

i’ve been trying to shake this feeling.

it isn’t fear. not quite.

it’s like my body knows that i’m not alone, even when i am. like there’s a second heartbeat tucked inside my ribcage.

i just can’t name it.

im writing this down so i dont forget today. so i dont start thinking the smear on the rug was tea.

ive locked all the doors again. i’ve shut the window. ive cleaned the knife.

i don’t know what i missed. the last journal entry was wrong, normal even though yesterday was anything but.

i read that again too. just once. too perfect, too human. but not my kind of human.

i don’t know anymore.