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It’s the day before the festival, and you can’t sleep. You wanted to get to sleep early because of how much you’ll have to get done tomorrow, but your body just rejects falling asleep anytime before twelve. Too many nights staying up too late watching too much anime or playing too many video games has had a permanent effect on your sleep schedule. You squint at your phone screen in the darkness of your room. 10:00. The goal was to go to sleep at 9:30, but the past half hour of tossing and turning has shown the flaws in your plan.
Of course, tonight, there’s been more to your insomnia than habitual late-night anime binging. No matter what you do, try to silence the room, play white noise, music, nothing can get that phrase out of your head.
“Why aren’t the rainclouds going away?”
Those words echo throughout your mind, rebounding off your skull, increasing in intensity each time. You know that even if you can never truly understand the pain Sayori is going through, you can even now feel the shadow of those thorns around your heart. You can’t erase the feeling of her embrace weakening around you, even as you hold her tight, hoping desperately to keep her from fading away.
You sit up. You can’t stand it any longer. You can’t just go to sleep, hoping everything will be okay even though you haven’t done anything! A simple hug and some comforting words you just came up with on the spot? How’s that going to just magically change everything? No, you can’t handle it. You have to do something.
You change out of your pajamas, back into the clothes you wore during the day, and leave the house. You knock on Sayori’s front door, and while you aren’t really surprised that there’s no response, it is still unsettling. You check the handle and it’s not locked, so you come in. “Hey Sayori, I’m coming in.” You announce your entrance. No answer. She’s probably in her room.
As you make your way toward her room, the unsettling silence of the house is broken by a sudden crash. It sounds like it came from Sayori’s room. “Sayori? Are you okay?” You call again, and you hear a scream. You rush to the door.
“Sayori? Sayori? Can you hear me?” You try the door, and while it’s not locked, it still won’t open.
“No, no, no, no, no. You can’t come in! You can’t come in!” There’s sobbing on the other side of the wall.
“Is that you, Sayori? Are you okay? I can’t open the door, what’s the matter?” You try the door again, with no results.
“No, you can’t come in, you can’t come in!” There’s pounding on the other side of the door, like it’s getting punched. “Just go away, okay?”
“Sayori, I’m not going to leave you like this. What’s the matter? Let me in!”
“No… please…” The pounding stops. You’re just about to try to enter again when you hear her scream once more. Over and over, accompanied by the same pounding against the door. At first they’re long, drawn out, so loud it hurts to listen, but over time, they get shorter and quieter. The pounding slows down, until it’s gone. There’s nothing left but the sound of heavy breathing on the other side of the door.
You wait a full minute, maybe more, stuck on the other side, listening to the sound that can only occur when someone is too spent to even cry anymore. “Sayori… I’m going to come in now, if that’s alright.” She doesn’t say anything, but you feel the weight on the other side of the door leave, so you assume you can let yourself in.
Right next to the door, you see her, against the wall, hugging her knees. She looks exhausted, there are red marks all around her neck. You want to know what happened, want to ask her, but you know that now is not the time for that. You sit next to her, try to offer a hug, but she flinches away from you, so you settle for sitting next to her. You don’t know what to say, and she doesn’t have the words either, so you sit and take in the view of her room.
Her room is bizarrely neat. The bed is neatly made, everything put into its proper place. The total order of the room is contrasted by the foreign object in the centre: a chair, unceremoniously knocked over. Above it, a rope secured to the ceiling, frayed and just hanging limply down, no knot or anything. You’re starting to piece together what happened, but you still don’t have the nerve to say anything.
“Why… did you come back?” Sayori asks, her voice quiet, broken.
“I was worried about earlier today. I was worried I hadn’t done enough for you, that… I don’t know.” And you don’t. It was nothing more than a vague uneasiness that had forced you into this situation.
“I’m so sorry that you have to see this.” She says, still refusing to look at you. “I wanted this to be over, so you wouldn’t have to worry, wouldn’t have to be stuck with me, wouldn’t have to feel bad for me.” It looks like she has more to say, but had to stop. You don’t interrupt. She takes a few shaky, but steadying breaths. “I thought if I could just finish things up, close all the loose ends, this could all work out for the better. You.. wouldn’t have to get hurt by me anymore, and I wouldn’t hurt anymore. Perfect, right?” Her eyes fill with tears, and they fall silently. The feverish cries from mere moments before were gone. She almost starts to laugh, but it turns into a choking sob, divorced from the energy you’d expect. “You’d think I – I could at l-least get this right, you know? But I just – just can’t do… anything. You’d think I c-could at least kill myself, right? But I can’t even tie the knot right!” She buries her head in her knees, shaking soundlessly.
Stunned, lost for words, you just drape an arm around her shoulder, hoping that you can at least offer some comfort.
“You probably think I’m so pathetic.” She mutters.
“I don’t think you’re pathetic.” You pause, searching for the words. “I think it’s sad that you’ve been forced to believe you are.” You wait for a response, but her silence indicates she’s waiting to hear more. “What’s happened is that you’ve been lied to, tricked into believing something that’s not true.” You stop, thinking carefully about what to say next.
“Then how do I stop?” She finally looks up to you, if just for a moment, before looking at the wall on the opposite side of her room.
“I think… that the brain is pretty gullible. It tends to believe what you tell it. So you should start by telling it good things.” You can’t help but think you’re over-simplifying a complex issue, one you may never fully get.
“But… you don’t get it. I can’t just start doing that. I… I don’t know how to explain it. If you’ve never felt this way, I don’t think you can get it.” She says hesitantly. It’s clear she doesn’t want to hurt you, is just trying to help you see the way she sees the world.
“I know I don’t get it. But I’m convinced that if you can make it through this, you won’t regret it. And you don’t have to make it through alone.” You take your arm off her shoulder, and interlock your fingers with hers.
“If you’re going to say something like that… you’re going to help me make it through, aren’t you?” She looks up to you again.
“Of course.” You lean down, and kiss her softly. An action of pure affection, a moment shared, a contact of the lips. Nothing more, nothing less. “Why don’t we start now? Why don’t you just list off the things, however many there may be that you enjoy. Things that remind you how much you enjoy being alive.” Again, you can’t help but worry that it’s too simple.
She smiles. Not a smile full of joy, or even a smile of happiness, a smile both bittersweet and broken, but a smile nevertheless. “Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”
You let yourself chuckle a little. “Maybe. But it’s the little things, all the stereotypes, you know? They’re what’s going to help you get through this night, and the next, and all the ones to come.”
Her smile just barely brightens. “Well,” she kisses your cheek, “that’s sure one of them.” She giggles, then hesitantly continues. “I don’t know… I like Natsuki’s baking, when she brings it to the club. Her cupcakes are so tasty, and always so nicely decorated. Oh, and then there’s that tea Yuri always makes. She’s got it down to a science – no, more than that – she’s made an art of it! And…” she pauses for a moment, then looks to the window in her room. “Every morning, even when I don’t feel like waking up, I get to see the sun first thing in the morning. And that’s always worth seeing. When I can manage to convince myself it’s worth getting up, and I open up the window, and feel the bright sunshine on my face, that’s always nice.” She yawns. “I’m so tired… will you stay here tonight? With me? I don’t really think I should be alone right now…” You can’t help but agree.
“It’s okay, I’m here for you.” You suddenly remember something, and pull a crumpled piece of paper from your pocket. “Hey, want me to read you a couple poems? I just realized I brought a paper I’d been working on some poems on. Want to hear a few?”
She leans into you, resting her head on your shoulder. “Sure thing. Wish I wasn’t so sleepy though, I wanna be able to pay attention to them…”
“Don’t worry. I’ll never leave you, so you can hear them anytime.” You hear her hum in agreement, and you start to read.
It’s not even two minutes before she falls asleep, body gently rising and falling with each soft, even breath. You finish reading the poem you’re on, just for the sake of completeness, but you can’t help but get sleepy too, with that gentle rhythm right beside you. And so, you two rest that rest which can only be achieved by having vanquished the troubles of the day, and leaving the troubles of tomorrow for tomorrow, secure in the knowledge that you will conquer them as well. Together.