Chapter Text
The nights are the hardest.
Wake up. Work. Sleep. Repeat.
Vi lies down on the tiled floor of her apartment. She hisses when her back touches it, and her jacket is carelessly thrown around the room.
She's drunk out of her mind, teetering on the edge of control.
Nothing but a waste and needless, feeble being taking the form of a woman.
Her lips were moist from the alcohol and Vi's blurry gaze captured the last glimpse of her calendar.
There's one soul in the room.
Surrounded by empty bottles of vodka lying around her where she lay.
That soul was Violet's, with the desire to diminish her flame that barely wanted to flicker during the dusk.
Her days were numbered.
The Sharpie she'd used to keep track was at a desk near her bed, unmoving and still. The ink was finally being used better than it had been for the past few months.
The X's on each box indicate the days of the month, and until the page on her calendar is full, the X's are four boxes away.
She dozes off, waiting for another tomorrow.
She's numbering her days.
Whatever motive she had in her was counting the hours, the seconds; the time she had left.
She takes charge of her fate in a final, desperate attempt to gain control over one decision.
Vi lays down on the floor, staying there, not trusting in tomorrow even upon knowing another day exists for her to live.
To move. To breathe.
She weakly kicks a bottle near her heel and listens to it roll to a stop.
Three more days, she thinks of last before sinking into her slumber, bare and cold.
Two days left.
Tomorrow night came and here she was.
Vi was late to her job. Her boss yelling at her was indication enough.
And that's fine.
He warned her he'd fire her tomorrow if this kept up.
And it was one of the few things Vi had been consistent of.
She almost feels proud of herself for it.
The reason why she was being kept for this long was because she was the only one who knew how to fucking mix the drinks properly.
That's how she mattered right now; someone to mix the drinks for people who are high and carefree under the bright neon lights of this damn club.
The smell of alcohol, booze, and vomit reeks in the air.
Her ears aren't doing a good job of receiving whatever strings of curses and insults that her boss wants to get the message across right through her thick head.
The music booming on one of the speakers was making each second a living hell.
Everything and everyone; those with souls were at their loudest tonight while Vi remained quiet and reserved.
"I swear to fuck, Violet. If you pull this shit again, you're out. Out I tell you! OUT!"
It's okay, she thinks, eyes droopy that she looked like she was about to fall asleep.
All the weight of the world hanging on her shoulders when she hung her head low.
She'd be gone by then anyway.
Vi doesn't even nod and gets back to wiping the dusty shot glasses, wishing that she wasn't trying to make it seem like she was ignoring him on purpose.
Of course, that wasn't the case. Her lack of giving betrays her, exhaustion catching up to fog and clouding her nerves, affecting her line of work.
When her boss stops cursing at her, crossed arms and fuming, the door slams hard and loud when he returns to the back bar, leaving her and the customers who watch her with pity.
Vi takes their orders, her grey, steely eyes pleading for them to forget about the outburst and carry on as if everything were normal.
Tired eyes, with the color that reflected whatever remains in her system self-explanatory to a bunch of beholders.
She's tired of pretending that everything is fine despite her muscles aching and hurting.
She was tired when the thoughts in her mind kept clouding her with words that continued to take away her will bit by bit to live.
I don't want this anymore, Vi blinks as her soul whispers, pouring the customers' drinks.
I don't want to think anymore, her mind pleads when she slides their glasses and watches them indulge in their alcohol.
I don't want to breathe anymore, one of them gives her a tip of cash as a result of their pity.
I don't want anything.
"You deserve this," they say, referring to the cash they handed to her before standing up to return and do exactly what they were here for, continuing to live their lives after helping the bartender they barely gave their attention to.
She watches them long enough until it's noticeable how they get drunker by the minute.
When she sees those same customers laugh and dance along to the blaring, thumping music, she sees them look so alive.
Vi doesn't remember the last time she felt so.
Violet's tired of living.
It's in the nature of humanity to breathe.
When she does, especially now, it's a timer.
Every inhale and exhale felt like a chore.
The kind that makes you grit your teeth and want to pull your hair out of frustration after cursing in the air.
You don't want to do that chore.
But this requirement, an unspoken deal, a price in exchange the moment she was born.
It's unchanging, harmony in the way we're wired to live.
Now, even her lungs were against her favor of her mind's wishes.
The air she consumes in her every day is what keeps her going physically.
If she'd stop breathing, she knew she'd pull herself out and gasp for it.
She hates living yet she needs it involuntarily.
She hates living yet she walks towards her no-good apartment that she should be evicted from by now.
She hates how she was raised as a fighter and survivor.
She hates how even in the smallest ways, the world is still kind to her.
Babette, the kindest soul that's possibly the only one left wanting for Vi to have a better life and give her the time of day, continuously gives her a chance to pay her rent even knowing that she wouldn't.
Vi groggily makes up to the stairs, head tilted down and forearms sliding against the walls when she steps into the hallway.
It's up to her whether she gets fired tomorrow and ceases her job or gets another chance to seize another night, working unhappily for herself and by herself.
Being indecisive for that now wouldn't matter in the end.
Vi fumbles her keys from her pocket, and the noise they make when they drop on the floor causes her to hiss out a curse.
Vi's muscles ache but she kneels to pick them up.
When she does, she slams her forehead on the door and mindlessly lets the tip of her key find the keyhole.
She inserts it, and the door opens by the weight of her body.
She stumbles and falls to the floor.
Two.
Two more days, her thoughts repeat, lying there.
She crosses another space on her calendar that morning.
Two became one.
She didn't eat that morning and immediately lay right back where she landed last night.
Vi doesn't think she deserves to lay down somewhere comfortable. So the bed hadn't been occupied for a while.
But the sheets were crumpled, the pillows were all over and untidy, and the kitchen was unkempt.
Previously worn clothes and t-shirts days ago remained on the floor.
Lacking the energy to do anything about it, she stays where she's at.
It will all be over soon.
This apartment, one that she wished felt like home had already died.
It's her turn to go down the same fate.
She's ready to see the same thing through.
But the coldness against her cheek, the sensations she feels as she lays down, where her front rests against these tiles; reminds her how she's still alive.
Vi still breathes with every inhale and exhale that is deliberate.
A survivor, clinging onto survival instinct that contradicts the betraying thoughts of her mind.
Vi stays still on that floor the whole day.
She stood up when her alarm urged her to work another night.
She arrives early at that time around.
That night, a woman approaches her, her elbows resting on the edge of the counter with her chin on the back of her palm, smiling.
Desire, lust, tension, want; Vi is not blind to these experiences, especially one that is blatantly presented right before her with expectation and exchange.
"Hey, handsome."
Vi doesn't pay her any mind, too focused on wiping the surface of the bar, yet she asks: "The usual?"
She was a regular, with eyes that kept undressing her in hopes that she'd take her home.
Violet had her fair share of one-night stands.
None of them were worth it.
The bliss and high that she'd manage to get would sooner be replaced with dread.
Fully aware that she'd only used sex as a distraction and nothing more, she'd stopped engaging in escapades that wouldn't go anywhere.
She didn't want to make herself feel worse than she already was.
The illusion of being in control of her life through desperation and sweat under the sheets only made her realize that her irrationality in those moments was barely a short-lived fantasy.
"Yeah." Vi answers briefly, hoping the conversation gets cut short.
"You busy tomorrow? Please tell me I'll see you."
"Depends." she doesn't promise her anything.
She dismissed everything she could; connections, conversations...
Her time was almost up.
Whoever she was, she was expecting Vi's time.
Unbeknownst to this woman whom she only recognizes out of familiarity, Violet's killing those seconds, feeling the dread of each passing minute of her long-time decision.
She doesn't even know the name behind the woman giving her this lusty gaze.
But she gives her a drink and dismisses her entirely, earning another disappointed look with a hint of determination that both of them knew she'd try her luck again.
Vi doesn't try to stop her.
It finally came.
Every box on the month of her calendar was marked.
The pen trembles in between her index and thumb, letting the tip write the words she needs to let Babette know on a crumpled paper.
Vi felt generous enough to at least make her handwriting legible this time around.
She couldn't thank her landlord enough for being a small anchor through her hard times.
She pursed her lips in contemplation, knowing that Babette's verbal concern and care weren't enough to stop her.
Vi knew she had to apologize for it in her letter.
The least she could do was to let her know none of this was her fault in an attempt to spare her from the guilt of not doing enough or not noticing the signs Vi tried to keep in secret.
She writes the words, holding her breath in her lungs.
For once, she needs to breathe even for just this moment and not despise herself for it.
Dear, Babette
I don't think I've thanked you enough. I'd be lying if I said I did. But this isn't a thank you letter. I wish it was. I owe you so much, and I know I haven't been paying. I just can't. But you taking me in even if I could barely give you back, it's enough for me to be grateful. I want to say I'm sorry for taking me this long. You don't have to worry about me anymore. You took care of me during some nights. It's time that I take care of myself.
I'm sorry for taking this long. I'm sorry for the bother. I cleaned the room for you so you wouldn't be able to deal with the mess when you find this letter. It's the least I could do for you. I'll always be forever in your debt. Please don't come looking for me.
—Vi.
She finishes writing, not wanting to overshare.
She doesn't want anyone stopping her, so Vi remains behind the shield of mystery.
Her eyes hover around the room she finally cleaned.
When she blinks, her eyes feel heavy.
She swallows, grimacing at how dry her throat has been. She folds the letter and places it neatly near the door.
Vi finally leaves, not bothering to lock her apartment.
Vi had decided to quit her job without letting her boss know.
She wouldn't return to the bar anyway. Spending the last five years bartending was service enough.
He can get pissed at her for all she wants. It's his problem to find another person for the job who could execute it just as well as she could.
He can curse on her dead body all he wants.
The night sky and the lights of New York City's buildings illuminated brightly along with the stars above her.
Vi's steps were slow, cold hands inside the pockets of her leather jacket.
Her eyes were trained mostly to the ground for the past couple of minutes or so but she knew the direction by heart.
The bridge.
The water below rippled and glistened even under the moon.
She plants her hands on the cold metal railing, stopping herself and holding all the weight of her body that seems to grow heavier.
The cold breeze of the wind sways the side part of her hair, and she inhales all of the oxygen into her nose deeply and slowly.
She shuts her eyes, taking in the moment while gripping the railing so hard that her knuckles turn white.
Her fondest memories suddenly flash when she was younger.
With Vander.
Powder.
Vi opens her eyes slightly, the mere thought of her sister sending a pang of pain to her heart.
Things haven't been the same since the accident.
The distant memory contorts her face bitterly, the guilt eating her from the inside and out.
Her breathing turned fast.
Her knuckles remain, and she leans in more to see a glimpse of the water.
"O-Okay."
This is it.
But she couldn't move from how tight she was holding the railing as if she was stopping herself despite her mind endlessly repeating to just jump.
She was ready to lock her elbows and step up on the other side of the railing.
"Okay," she tells herself, breaths getting heavier.
Vi, to her credit, tried to live a good life.
There was a time when her lungs didn't despise the smell of homemade food, how her arms lifted heavyweight to carry tool boxes to the garage, how her cheeks were kissed by loved ones and her arms wrapped themselves around warm bodies close to her heart.
Vander's warmth kept her grounded.
Powder's eyes kept her strong and pride high.
Her strength made her fight and prosper through the challenges of life, making her push through the walls Vander taught her to crush for a better future.
A better life.
Until his body went cold.
Until she blamed Powder for everything.
Vi feels her feet move, ready to hoist one leg over to the other side.
She repeats her apology in her mind, a mantra before her last breath.
It's impossible, but Vi hoped Powder could hear her thoughts.
How sorry she is for everything.
But she barely lifts her foot from the ground when someone calls her out.
It must be a dream.
She was proven wrong when she heard a woman walking towards her.
"Hello..?"
Someone calls her out, heels clicking loudly on the pavement like a ticking clock, reminiscent of the mental time that takes charge of how many seconds she had left with each box shaded by the tip of her sharpie on the calendar.
Vi's time was supposedly over.
But the seconds are still counting.
"What?"
Vi feels her eyebrows slanting and squints her eyes harder, hoping to drown out the voice in hopes that she is just a fragment of her imagination.
As kind as the world is, it can be just as cruel and disappointing when it decides to be a bitch.
"You aren't supposed to be here." the woman tells her.
"Is your name on this damn bridge?" Vi bites back, not yet opening her eyes to regain focus.
"I'm sorry but I really need this bridge to be alone and...if you could please leave, I'd appreciate it." the woman says, an accent so thick it might as well have clogged her throat.
That's it.
Vi opens her eyes and turns her head to get a good look at her.
"Listen here you—" the words got caught in her throat at that moment, her initial thought and insult that sat on the tip of her tongue.
Her grip on the railing unconsciously softened, unaware of how the tension had slowly started to slip away.
The woman was so beautiful, Vi almost didn't want to jump.
And she mirrors the same expression on her face, almost seemingly recognizing who was standing before her.
And she does when her name sounds like a prayer out of her lips.
"Vi?"
Who the fuck?
"Listen, miss, I don't have time to—"
"Vi!" her scowl turns into a half-smile, expression still in disbelief.
Dreams.
They're unrecognizable sometimes.
The kind of self-made memory that your mind made up only for you to forget the second light enters through your eyelids as you wake up.
They never made sense, incorrigible.
This has to be a dream.
But this was the night.
The very night her motive and plan led her on this bridge should be real.
"Who the hell are you?" she asks, bitter in tone, heart reserved. "How the fuck do you know my name?"
The world is kind.
And cruel.
And confusing.
Amalgamations of each trait that Vi, right now, had to deal with.
Blue, midnight hair, and light skin being illuminated by the many lights of the night reflected the kindness in her eyes.
"C-Caitlyn." her smile, almost intoxicating and infectious, caused a beat in Vi's heart. "Me! Caitlyn!"
She doesn't recognize her.
The woman—Caitlyn—notices her confusion; the way she looks lost in her grey irises.
But the smile she gave this time made the corners lift upwards a tad higher, confident that she'd be able to bring back the memory.
Vi tries to remember.
Caitlyn.
She stares at her for too long, grasping for every aspect and clue for familiarity.
"Vi, it's me!" Caitlyn helps her. "Uhm..." she stutters, the once, cold and strict demeanor she'd presented seconds ago had gone away. "High school. We were classmates. For four straight years. You were a transferee, always sitting at the back..."
A stuttering mess, tucking a loose hair behind her ear, blue irises scanning her face, figure—everything that's all Vi. Dreams should be recognizable. This is a beautiful one.
Oh.
Vi remembers now.
"Class mayor..!" Caitlyn adds, gesturing her hands to herself. "For...four years." both hands resting on her chest, grasping onto hope that Vi would get it, this small reunion meaning so much in such little time.
The memories were distant but simultaneously clear.
Enough to get the whole picture, rebuilding each piece like an old puzzle.
Enrollment.
Seating arrangements.
Blue hair that was not that hard to miss on the front near the teacher's table which reflected her position both in the classroom and in the world; the richest Piltie girl with parents that could probably afford three universities if they wanted.
Shit.
"It's so good to see you!" Caitlyn means it with her heart. Vi was speechless, trying to process her existence. "Y-You're still here! In New York! Is it really you..?"
The memories retrace back one by one, the woman's reputation making it easy to clear out the fog of her mind.
Caitlyn was an amazing student.
That was apparent enough ever since Vi sat at the back of the class and witnesses Caitlyn's right hand being up most of the time in each lesson for recitation.
The reminders she'd write on the board, her friends surrounding her every time lunch came, and those rare, lingering glances that Vi caught whenever she felt those piercing blue eyes stare right at her from the front.
Her last name.
Kiramman.
They were classmates.
Old friends..? Vi was unsure of that.
Colleagues.
Acquaintances was probably a better word to describe it.
That was all until Caitlyn Kiramman had to move back to London after graduation to continue her studies somewhere more prestigious.
Then nobody saw her again.
People come and people go.
Caitlyn was an example.
People come.
People go.
People don't stay.
For they change.
And Caitlyn has changed.
Taller, older, cheekbones sculpted so prominently that she wasn't that hard to miss.
Vi did too.
The scars on her skin were proof of it.
Tattoos, with ink, etched deep into her skin permanently.
"I...was already here until I saw someone. I wanted to be alone and so I approached you thinking you were a stranger and I didn't think I'd—see you. It's... you!"
"What are you doing here?"
Not even a hello or a greet.
Vi's words were straight to the point like the tip of the knife wasting no time for its edge to slice.
The kind of tone that would push someone away without arms strength.
Caitlyn looked at her, still smiling, she was glad to see her.
Like life was full just by the mere presence of being with her.
Somehow, the moon shone brighter—felt brighter.
Everything looked and seemed light, burdens and turmoil put into a pause and rest.
Nobody has ever looked at Vi like that.
And Caitlyn, as stupid as it is to fucking admit it, is stopping Vi from jumping unknowingly.
Caitlyn is so beautiful the stars are burning with jealousy, way worse than her cheeks are starting to flush.
Caitlyn is so beautiful, her feet were planted on the ground, glued and stuck and unmoving.
Vi shouldn't stay.
She had planned this day to stop staying.
"Gods, Vi, I—" Caitlyn ignores the question, the tips of her fingers pressing against her lips. Her eyes sparkle, eyebrows furrowing hopelessly, getting more and more emotional. "It's been s-so long! How have you been..?!"
"Leave me alone." please, Vi pleads.
This is so fucking stupid.
If it were anyone else; a stranger, she would've told them to fuck off.
But this woman, a girl she knew, who was happy to see her, was too hard to push away.
Caitlyn frowns yet her determination has a good correlation to her stubbornness.
She gains her smile again, stepping one foot closer.
"Vi..." she chuckles softly, "Aren't you going to say hi to an old friend?"
"Caitlyn," Vi doesn't have it in her to shout, her frustration and inner turmoil burn harder in her chest it starts to hurt. She's not going to cry in front of an old classmate so she keeps her voice firm and steady as best as she can. "I don't...want to see anyone. I don't want to talk to anyone."
"Not even me?" Caitlyn's voice was laced with sadness and tease.
Vi couldn't nod. Why the fuck can't she?
"I haven't seen you in a while, Vi..." she says, holding a breath, the air becoming colder when the breeze passes by their direction. "It's nice to see an old face. I'm glad. More than glad!"
Vi isn't.
She stands there, wearing a black turtleneck with black pants, complimenting every frame with so much emphasis anyone can trail over.
She doesn't remember how...curvy she had gotten.
And even thinner than she remembered.
Thoughts that were about to be laced with concern diminished when cold fingertips touched the skin of her palm that was still gripping the railing, bruised and scarred from years of hardship asking for quiet permission to hold her hand.
Caitlyn's touch was featherlight and soft, and Vi's spine felt shivers from the fact of how someone else's touch could be so careful.
She lets Caitlyn, slowly remove her palm from the cold surface.
Caitlyn's fingertips trail her arms to slide down along the bumps of her knuckles to hold both of Vi's hands.
"Can I at least get a hug?" her eyes plead, warm and wanting.
Vi's lungs start to contract.
Being touched and asking for a warm gesture all because of a memory long ago robbed all the words in her mind and mouth.
Caitlyn takes it as a yes and pulls her in giving her a slight squeeze, humming contently.
She hugged her quickly and stepped back to take a look at Vi again, cheeks looking and feeling warmer than it was mere seconds ago; the heat of her move of affection gave a rosy blush on her pale skin.
Vi stares at her back and notices the lines under Caitlyn's eyes reminiscent of hers whenever the mirror gives her a view of herself.
She looks tired.
The world also put a lot on her shoulders.
Yet her lips tug upwards.
And that was a difference that Vi didn't understand.
Yet they're both human, with apparent experiences that shaped what they are now.
Vi's eyes glance at the water then right back to Caitlyn, who now appeared more timid after her approach.
"I'm sorry." she giggles softly, stepping back a bit to give Vi space.
Caitlyn hugged herself with both arms, warming herself up from the breeze of the night, her lower lip getting caught under her upper teeth in a shy manner that revealed that tooth gap.
This really is Caitlyn Kiramman.
"Wow..." Caitlyn huffs out a breath, wistful and hopeful.
She gathers the courage to look at Vi again, leaning her back against the railing.
Both women start to feel more self-conscious, and vulnerable from such proximity.
Vi returns to her initial position, this time, with her shoulders against the railing with her head hanging low.
"You're back." she'd said.
And the few words got Caitlyn to look more prideful than ever like she'd received a medal for getting something out of her.
The conversation was inevitable.
Fine.
She can wait a few more minutes until Caitlyn leaves.
"Yes. I suppose I am."
"You left for London."
"You remember." Caitlyn had looked like her heart melted, her expression and eyes glistening with fondness.
It intimidated Vi. The look shares a foreign and odd flutter.
"Everyone did. Even if I have the shittiest memory."
"At least I was memorable to you."
"You haven't answered my question." Vi fights the urge to groan. To push Caitlyn away. To make her leave. "Why are you here?"
"I wanted some time alone. I was taking the time to explore the city and—"
A noise.
Ugly and ragged.
Vi looks at her longer when the woman suddenly starts coughing.
Caitlyn's fist was against her lip with one hand patting her chest, face scrunching in discomfort.
Her coughs were a series of harsh and rough like the air was being robbed out of her.
The same hand on her chest trembles to grip the railing beside them, to remain stagnant and steady when she fights herself and the probable itch on her throat.
Vi watches her...feeling helpless.
But what could she do?
It's a cold night.
And Caitlyn must be feeling under the weather.
The air in New York is shit anyways.
"I'm f-fine." Caitlyn stutters, voice is almost gone but hoarse.
A warm laugh escapes her lips when she waves the moment off with a hand, requesting that Vi shouldn't be worried from the way she was looking at her with so much speculation.
The woman clears her throat, in an attempt to regain her voice back.
Vi shifts uneasily.
"Sorry—" Caitlyn's smile was shy now.
Her eyes flutter until cerulean eyes meet Vi's gaze.
"It's fine," she says, shrugging it off, everything remaining heavy.
"As I was saying...it's been a while since I left and I just had a lot of good memories here," she explains. "I went out for walks, traveled wherever I could, tried to seek out familiar faces which was an area I haven't been lucky until...you."
The last word came out like a whisper, wistful and hopeful.
Vi ignores the feeling in her chest.
She stares right back at the water, shimmering from the city light and the stars. "Welcome home then."
"Thank you." Caitlyn smiles, and they stare at the water together.
Amidst the silence, Vi kept begging in her mind that Caitlyn would get bored.
That Caitlyn would soon realize she's just wasting her time.
Vi had nothing more to offer in this world let alone a previous classmate she barely even remembered if it weren't for such a notable reputation.
But a few minutes pass and Caitlyn just...stays.
Looking at the river then back at Vi.
It's excruciating.
"This feels like a movie." the silence breaks. "Two people, under the moonlight and stars on a bridge. Sounds kind of romantic, is it not?"
Vi blinks.
"What?"
"I'm kidding..." Caitlyn takes it back. "Sorry, that was cliché of me. But the view's pretty, hm?"
"I guess." the feeling grows fonder.
Vi doesn't get close.
But Caitlyn...gets closer.
Affection was pulling all of her initial intentions down the drain in a matter of seconds.
"I'm staying here from now on," Caitlyn adds up.
"Your parents approve of that?" Vi's interest couldn't help herself from knowing.
Kiramman always had the strictest parents.
And that alone was felt without a word both inside and outside the classroom from how disciplined she was.
The kind of girl who made sure to check all the boxes and fit herself in the image she was supposed to fit.
"My own choice. I make my own choices in life and I couldn't be more happy that I returned to the only place I felt at home."
Vi didn't think of a timeline where Caitlyn's independence exists.
Well, would you look at that?
Princess can actually make her own decisions in life.
"Enough about me. How about you? Why are you here?" Caitlyn returns the question, prolonging Vi's stay.
"Same thing as yours, I guess. Just felt like it." she goes along with it.
If she talks to her, the quicker this might be over.
But it doesn't.
Not when Caitlyn admits something out of the blue that tore down the walls of predictability and expectation.
"You broke my heart once you know?"
"Huh?"
"Highschool. When you stole my first kiss."
Vi looks at her, scowling in confusion.
A reaction that Caitlyn seemed to relish.
"We weren't even together at that time," she argues.
And there was a memory there.
An awfully clear memory that Vi wished wouldn't have to be brought up in ever:
A beach party.
A bottle that spun when their whole class sat in a circle on the sand.
The butt and mouth of the bottle point towards them both.
A kiss.
"Exactly. The fact that we weren't together tore it to two."
"Are you being serious, right now?"
"I'm afraid I am." Caitlyn giggles, her laugh being the very sound that could melt the hardest ice. "I had the hugest crush on you."
"Why? You're fucking with me."
"I am certainly not..."
"Stop. That's not true."
"I did a good job at hiding it. For four straight years, I've been hopeless for you."
Vi presses her palms against her face, inhaling deeply.
"I just wanted you to know."
"Why me?"
"I just...did."
"We weren't close. We barely talked."
"And I regret it. I should've tried shooting my shot. But as we all know it, I'm not the only one who was crazy for you now, was I?"
The girls Vi had dated were just dust particles that got blown away by the wind, with no apparent memory of their names.
"You're still...handsome as the day I fell for you."
"Caitlyn." Vi glares at her. "Are you seriously flirting with me?"
"I'd be disappointed if you didn't notice."
For fuck's sake.
This girl was something else.
"Are you okay?" Caitlyn asks, dropping her tease when Vi looked like she was holding herself back.
She wants to scream.
She wants to go.
She wants to die.
"It doesn't matter."
"You look tired."
"You should go, Caitlyn."
"I remember being here first. And now that you're here, I'm obligated to stay."
Vi closes her eyes, keeping her breathing steady, trying so hard not to cry.
She just wants to die.
She could jump right here right now.
But she can't let Caitlyn fucking witness it.
"You really don't have to." Vi hopes for her to leave once more.
"I want to." Caitlyn's decision was firm as a pillar.
"I want to be alone." Vi tries again.
"We can be alone together." Caitlyn stands with her; wants to stand with her against the world.
"Don't you have anything else better to do?"
"Being here with you."
With every reason, there was a counter.
Vi had met a match.
One that the world probably did all it could to continue for her to suffer.
But Caitlyn isn't here to make her suffer. God, it was far from that.
Caitlyn is here...for Vi to believe in chances.
"Even if we weren't so close, I really looked up to you. When I left, it felt like I left a piece of me here."
Vi listens.
The urge to jump had gone futile.
She can't let a sweet girl witness such a thing tonight.
Fuck.
She'll have to do this tomorrow.
She can't.
Not with Caitlyn around, who exists right now with a smile that gives Vi the smallest spark of hope.
So Vi turns her heel and leaves.
Caitlyn noticed and barely had the time to process what was happening.
The woman yells.
"Vi!" Caitlyn calls. "Where are you going!"
Vi doesn't answer and keeps on walking.
She tilts her head lower and stuffs her hands inside her jacket's pockets.
"Will I see you again?" the woman asks loudly.
Vi stops.
Caitlyn wasn't chasing her.
She tilted her head enough to take in the one last thing that had been good to her and had the heart to answer.
"Depends," she says before fully walking away.
The moon shines above them, watching two people go their seperate ways.