Chapter Text
“Is it true that I tried to walk into the ocean?”
Cinnabar smiled. “You believed you could. I wasn’t far behind, though. Hah. I stopped you before you washed away.” She sighed. “You have a knack for getting into trouble.”
The ocean rolled in front of them, and Phos looked at her. The simple red swimsuit Cinnabar wore, how her skin folded slightly at her navel.
Pale, damaged skin with lots and lots of sunscreen. Boldly dyed red hair in a bun. Pale yellow sunglasses lodged into thick hair.
And Phos knew, that her eyes had seen so much more. But it was static and glass now, images and photographs taken away by the birds and the grass she was found in.
She knew Cinnabar loved her, and that it was something infinite and indescribable. Vivid colors exchanged between them, between small breaths in the early morning hours when one of them couldn't sleep.
Cinnabar’s eyes were vast pools of red, and there was love there. But it was hazed with sadness, and it stole all the oxygen from the space between them.
Space, to Phos, that seemed infinite and endless.
But to Cinnabar the space was mathematically determined by tiny strings that had been severed violently. Phos felt bad, watching Cinnabar pick up the tiny threads and trying to braid them back together.
Felt bad, watching Cinnabar trying to sew their broken relationship back together.
Because she was in denial, that the old threads were worn and fuzzy. That they needed to start over anew with new strings and new ties.
“Phos?”
Oh.
“Yeah?” Phos smiled, pulled her beanie down over her ears. She knew it probably looked stupid, wearing a hat in the middle of summer. But she couldn't go anywhere without it. The little bald spot on the back of her head was too embarrassing and she hated it.
“Ready to go?”
“Sure.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“...You used to love the beach, you know.”
“I know. You tell me all the time, don’t worry. Haha.”
“Haha. Yeah.”
Dia was the first one to get up and leave the classroom.
And she didn’t come back out, but everyone sat quietly, listened to the loud wails coming from the hallway.
An ugly, ugly sound from such a quiet girl.
Quiet muffled voices.
But they listened through the walls.
“What happened?”
Dia.
“Phos, God, Phos,” Cinnabar breathed, tried to calm down. “Phos, she, God,”
Something about an emergency room.
Something about a crash, those damn reckless drivers.
Lots of swearing, lots of loud sobs
And class was quiet for the rest of the day.
Cinnabar never came back.
And Cinnabar dropped out of the class. Out of school.
Everything felt terrible.
All felt destroyed and shattered like thin ice, ever since Cinnabar got cold feet in that waiting room, when the doctors warned that Phos would most likely not remember who she was.
The ugly bandage on Phos’s head where hair was shaved away.
Stitches.
But Phos smiled regardless, and it made Cinnabar want to vomit.
The rehabilitation, Cinnabar tried to forget because Phos wouldn’t stop asking questions about everything, and Cinnabar just wanted her to know.
Know, what Phos’s favorite cereal was.
Know, how to take out the garbage.
Know, all the times they slept in the same bed.
Know, that one time they shared a bath and Phos smeared the remains of a bathbomb all over Cinnabar’s face.
Know, all of the little things that lead them to their little apartment, how they fell in love.
But now, all Cinnabar needed to know was that everything was gone.
And Phos still needed to know everything in a different way, in a different light.
They got home from the beach, and Phos took a shower.
Cinnabar took off her shoes, laid on the bed that was Phos’s only during the night. She looked at her body, hip bones protruding, the tiny gaps in her swimsuit bottoms that they created. Small scars that had stayed with her over the years because she was stupid and fragile, and nothing seemed to heal right. She tucked herself under the covers, and part of her spiting self hoped that sand would remain behind and linger between the sheets.
Listened to the shower. Small noises.
Meaningful and meaningless.
Shirts crumpled on the floor, barely visible by the lowlight of candles. Everything felt okay, because Phos had her arms around Cinnabar’s stomach, they both wore nothing but it was okay because it was normal now. Hushed voices, quiet laughter.
Sheets adorned naked forms perfectly.
Window barely cracked open, moonlight bleeding through.
“Look at the moon, it shines for us,” Phos said.
“Oh?”
“Yes.” Phos smiled. “And it takes me away every time I feel like this.”
Cinnabar loved the riddles Phos always laid out for her, loved Phos and all her depth. “Good.”