Chapter Text
Vi’s soul might’ve never been only hers.
A tiny part in Vi has this persistent feeling that she’s inconsequential, unseen like the tears hiding behind her fears. Like the broken bottle of red wine beside a waterbody. In the bigger picture of the universe, the glass pieces are only a mere inconvenience. On Wednesday nights, everyone does everything for their lungs to stay intact until the weekend. To escape from reality, to pass like a meteor crashing down on the water bed.
Being with someone else means being selfish, Vi realizes at an early age. Her hands are bound to what’s supposed to be, never holding new wonders of what she’s supposed to be.
Unless, of course, it’s an empty pool that can never effortlessly flood and consume anyone.
This is the only place Vi is able to look straight at her own eyes, where the wind lightly sways the pretend waves. Her hand stretches, the blue reflecting a shadow of a place she’s never been. Making her fully aware that the empty places echo even the tiniest movements.
Vi wants to belong with the rest of everyone. Until she discovers all the shades of red on her hands. Learning to live with it in the form of ink. Maybe the hole in her chest wants to be the apple that never falls far from the tree. Maybe she wants to stay, attached in all of its glory. Or maybe with her grieving hand, she has nothing else to give anyway.
Vi realizes there’s always going to be a lump down her throat, always that metallic taste from all the lip biting. Perhaps everyone only knows how to warn about not running with a sharp metal blade—but not taking time to tell how it’s going to end if you do. And so, Vi does it, she takes it, she marches with it, she runs away not knowing the pain blankets her, and eventually, she gets used to it. That even though she finally moves houses, everything still lives underneath her skin.
What does it mean to be good to grow into something yet unimposing to never have to surrender anything?
The first time Vi meets Caitlyn is through her flowers.
“I’m going to get fired,” Vi whispers to herself, as soon as her eyes hit the scattered colorful petals over the pool. Floating petals that are mocking her, inviting her like a bed of comfort but will surely drown her if she lays on it.
The flower pool might’ve been—excuse her for the lack of a better word—romantic. If only Vi’s current job isn’t to make sure that the pool stays spick and span all the damn time.
Vi’s current situation, as far as she knows, will deem that as impossible. She only has half an hour to clean the whole thing before the owner comes and sees it.
The owner once freaked out on Vi even at the sight of a single leaf on the pool. A thousand petals… Vi can’t imagine what her reaction would be. She wouldn’t also be staying to see it—though it’ll surely be funny, she isn’t going to fight against her better judgment.
She picks up the empty basket with the stems and leaves of what seems to be the roses plucked. Seeing a handwritten letter, Vi reads: Hey there!
Since you’re so convinced that we’ve sent you five baskets with the MOST DRIEST BUNCH OF FLOWERS IN THE WHOLE WIDE UNIVERSE (yes, double superlative might be a mistake, but I’d do it if there’s a chance it’s going to fucking piss you off), I hope you’d be satisfied with the MOST WETTEST ones in the courtesy of your slippery wet pool.
If you come screaming and destroying a bunch of our phenomenal arrangements again at our flower shop, I swear I’m going to haunt you for the rest of your life.
Or do it, I dare you.
Best fucking regards, Caitlyn.
There’s a rough doodle on the space left down on the paper; it’s a doodle of a skull with skeleton hands by its side. The funniest part is that the hands have both of their middle fingers up, obviously flipping off the intended receiver of the well-thought heartwarming letter and the wonderful pool surprise.
Vi feels like she’s supposed to feel lonely or angry at the thought of not being back by this pool again. It’s become her place where she can be alone and feel at ease. However, at that exact moment, her heart is only crammed full of messed-up flowers. She only ends up laughing in disbelief, or in amusement. Whatever it is, it sounds genuine.
“Have you ever lied to a customer, Cupcake?” Vi asks, remembering a certain time in the past when her own laughter feels like it doesn’t make her bones quiver.
“I’m not a liar. What I am is, uh, a great salesman who can easily talk their way out of a tricky situation.”
Vi laughs at that; she does it with ease like that one time, same as now because of Caitlyn.
“I have one, but I think it isn’t really a case of being a liar. But thinking about it, I guess it’s a situation that might've made me feel guilty for a little bit. Well, before you judge me, it’s the customer’s fault.”
Vi leans forward on the counter, toward Caitlyn’s direction. There’s also a little smile on Vi’s lips which prompts Caitlyn to continue, “Must’ve happened months ago. A customer kept on complaining about our flowers. Not once, not twice, but like four or five times! I swear, I didn’t even know I had that much patience. My part-timer’s a fucking angel and even told me to bite my tongue or else, we’ll lose customers if we didn’t act like they’re always right and shit sunshine out of their asses.”
“How do you even shit—Okay, I won’t ask… But you did something,” Vi declares with certainty laced in her voice.
“I did. It pained the fuck out of me to see one time when that same customer was full-on screaming at my part-timer about our dry flowers—or so that bitch says. We’ve never sent her wilted flowers, even when I wanted to!”
“So what did you do?”
“I… I think you’re going to think I’m stupid. Thinking back on it… I was so petty and what I did might’ve been plainly stupid and probably achieved nothing,” Caitlyn says.
“I won’t,” Vi promises. “Nothing you do is stupid.”
“God, you sound so sure.” Caitlyn laughs. “I remember driving to her small villa, which I think is an hour drive from here. So yeah, I heard the bitch has her pool off-limits with anything—like literally anything except herself. Went to deliver her new flowers in a pretty basket. Then I don’t know, one minute I was there and the other I was breaking in and had all of these petals thrown all over her precious pool.”
“Did your part-timer know about it?”
“Oh god, yeah. Had a field day about it. Then also kind of pissed when we realized the shop may have lost a rich and potential longtime customer if only I’d been more patient. Maybe I shouldn’t have done it. But, damn, I don’t know. I think my anger was justified that time.”
Vi pins Caitlyn with a look that says she finds her amusing. Caitlyn, in turn, shakes her head while remembering the shitshow that once unfolded due to her anger and impulse.
If talking to plants will make them grow, Vi must’ve been a plant in her last lifetime. There’s something inside her that keeps filling with thorns twice as sharp. There’s a part of her prickling, wanting to say that she knows and she has a firsthand experience of Caitlyn’s decision.
But all Vi manages to blurt out is a joke: “You still accept pool break-in requests from good customers, Cupcake? I’d gladly pay for that.”
Caitlyn must’ve thought it’s a real request since she calls Vi at midnight to meet her and for her to get in Caitlyn’s car. Throughout the drive, Caitlyn doesn’t explain anything and keeps on staring ahead as if her life depends on the steering wheel and the road.
Vi realizes she’s not going to get a word out of Caitlyn, so she keeps herself busy with the radio. When that also bored the hell out of her, she turns her attention to the dark sky outside the car window. No moon, no bright stars to stare at. Vi sits with the back of her head against the seat, then Vi angles her head sideways. Just enough so Vi can watch Caitlyn watch the road.
“Are you going to let me know where we’re going?” Vi begins asking again. Caitlyn only shrugs. “Finally going to bury me somewhere, Cupcake?”
There’s no response.
“When are you going to kiss me again?”
“After you’ve done your part of our deal, which you haven’t yet,” Caitlyn finally responds.
“You don’t even know what tattoo you want,” Vi reminds her.
“I told you to pick it for me.”
“That’s…” Vi sighs, closing her eyes for a moment. “That’s impossible. You should be the one to decide.”
Caitlyn silently breaking into a familiar place might’ve been one of the moments Vi just wants to sit back and watch, but seeing Caitlyn being confused and mad at a lock isn’t really that fun for Vi. Most especially when Caitlyn's too focused on everything but on Vi. The lightning and impatient raindrops are also the closest to a sign Vi needs to finally move.
“Caitlyn,” Vi calls her out. “Do you trust me?”
With her rusty or nonexistent lock-picking skills, Caitlyn shoots Vi an annoyed look. That turns to something close to frustration when Caitlyn sees Vi grinning at her.
Caitlyn pauses and gives her a nod. “Trust me. There’s no chain lock the first and last time I went here.”
Suddenly, Vi wants a lot of things. She wants to tell everything to Caitlyn already. She wants to say she's actually the one who unlocked it and forgot to put it back that time. She wants to cross a boundary even when she doesn’t know where the line is. She wants to carve something out of her ribcages every time her eyes catch Caitlyn’s. She wants to catch fire even when there’s already a downpour. She wants to pull Caitlyn and kiss the hell out of her already—
And Vi does. She gently pulls Caitlyn’s arm, that is.
Vi leads Caitlyn to the hidden door at the back that she’s discovered back then. Months have passed, but Vi knows nothing changed inside her old workplace. When she lets go of Caitlyn’s arm, she walks to the closed shelves where she hid some things.
Pulling out the spray paint cans she once placed there, Vi walks closer to Caitlyn who is visibly confused but also has been rendered speechless.
“Vi, what the fuck? No, I'm so lost. Unless you're a professional trespasser, no one should be that good. So you need to tell me. How’d you even know that…” Caitlyn glances in the direction where they entered. “And those?” She points to the two spray paint cans Vi’s holding.
“I used to be a caretaker here,” Vi answers truthfully, handing Caitlyn one of the spray paint cans. “Ended up ruining a perfectly planned retribution of a flower shop owner who doodles a skull and its middle fingers. Now, I finally got the chance to redo that.”
“What… Wait, does that mean… Wow, okay. Okay, this is crazy, admit it—” Caitlyn’s shock seems to be settling faster than the rain when she turns out pleasantly surprised. “Trespassing and vandalism? I think that’s too much for me, Vi,” she says in a tone that’s not even as half as convincing ‘cause she sounds a little too bit excited.
“A bit rich coming from you, Cupcake.” Vi points in the direction of the white picket fences surrounding them. “The owner loves those fences the most. Even more than her pool.”
“What? Vi, how could you? Forgiveness is divine, you know, and we can’t stoop down to that level… Fuck, stop smiling at me, I know I can’t even say that with a straight face. Come on. Let’s do this.”
Smelling like spray paint blended with an earthy after-the-rain scent, they are both sitting on the edge as their feet dangle in the pool.
“It’s got to do with flowers, I guess?” Caitlyn mutters. “My dad has a greenhouse. He has all the seeds and knows all of their names. He can sort them by season or by colors or by anything. My mom swears plants and flowers hate her. She doesn't have a green thumb like dad, that's what she always says. They're unlucky I plucked all these tiny parts and ended up being both of them while also not being anything like them. Constant... and still... and—”
“—Empty,” Vi cuts Caitlyn off. “Like their souls are too tired to move except when they hold onto that empty out of each other.”
“Exactly. They're like skeletons with flowers blooming around... I want that.”
“That’s a classic.” Vi dips her hand with traces of red paint inside the pool. “You sure about this, Caitlyn?”
“If I end up regretting it, I know I won’t, you’ve no choice but to take full responsibility for me.”
“Huh. Not a threat to me at all.”