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Chapter Text

One thing Yuri excelled at, and others rarely realized she was skilled in, was observation. Years spent analyzing obscure references and deciphering metaphor in her books granted her the unconscious ability to note and catalog the most minute of details. Her anxiety, ever-present and crushing, also made sure she had plenty of practice closely observing others and their mannerisms, though it was usually put to use trying to figure out how to avoid making them hate her, then stuttering and generally being a fool and making them hate her anyway.

It was amazing how much you could read from subtle differences in expression, a quirk of the lips, a minute drawing of the eyebrows towards each other.

This combination of traits, coupled with her ability to fade into the background and avoid notice, revealed to her many things that she was sure others didn’t wish to be known.

It revealed the bags that all too often formed under Monika’s eyes when she stayed up all night studying time and time again, and how the president silently berated herself for any mistake.

It revealed the bruises Natsuki tried to hide, how the baker flinched at slamming doors and loud voices.

It even revealed how Sayori’s ever-present smile would at times fade when she thought nobody was looking, how she would get lost in thought and take a moment to shake off melancholy when she was disturbed, and how she would casually put herself down.

Yes, Yuri saw all these things. Monika’s problem was somewhat obvious to her, andshe had read books that involved abuse before, which meant she recognized the signs in Natsuki. However, she wasn’t sure exactly what was wrong with the vice-president, whether it was stress, her getting tired of acting happy, or something like depression or anxiety. But she did know Sayori wasn’t nearly as happy as she seemed to be.

When the violet-haired girl had first entered the club, she had seen all the others as perfect, everything she never could be. Monika was a strong, confident leader who knew how to manage people and was smart, popular, and athletic. Natsuki was bold, brash, and skilled, just as confident as Monika and unafraid to flaunt her interests, and god help whoever tried to make fun of her. And Sayori was happy andbubbly, always knowing exactly how to cheer someone up while also being dependable and honest.

But after a time, Yuri had realized they weren’t perfect at all. They were simply wearing masks. Masks of confidence, masks of anger, masks of happiness. But far from ruining Yuri’s perception of them, this knowledge instead simply heightened her respect for her clubmates, for they managed to push past everything that held them back and make something of themselves, for they were all strong in their own ways.

If only she could say the same about herself.

But still, while she knew they were strong, and the club was helping them, it was not enough. Their issues needed to be addressed if they were to ever start to heal. And unfortunately, she knew she had to be the one to coax them into taking off their masks, for she was the only one aware that they were masks in the first place.

Monika, for all her management skills and knowledge, still didn’t quite know how to handle people, and the masks of Sayori and Natsuki were far too well-crafted for the president to see behind them. Natsuki was even less able to recognize the other’s problems, for her own were far too pressing. And Sayori, for all that she was by far the most emotionally intelligent member of the club, wasn’t exactly what one would call observant.

So Yuri knew that despite the fact she was by far the worst candidate for doing so, she had to be the one to talk to her clubmates and get them to confide in each other. She knew that healing would take a lot more than that, but once the first step was taken, the rest would follow.

And she knew she had to start soon, for she would never forgive herself if she left her clubmates to suffer by themselves for a moment longer when all around them were friends that could support and help them.

*

Yuri looked up from her book and glanced at Monika nervously. Natsuki hadn’t come to school, which, considering her home situation, happened far too often for Yuri’s liking.

Later.

And Sayori had gone to hang up some posters around the school.

The violet-haired introvert wouldn’t get a better chance any time soon.

She hesitantly closed her book, marking the page. Monika was sitting at a desk, working on something or other in her notebook, her expression completely focused.

As usual.

Monika was always working on something. Be it poems, work for class, paperwork for the club, or studying, Yuri had never seen Monika not working unless she was addressing the club. The president, along with creating and managing her own club, also did sports, got perfect grades, played piano, was learning coding, and took further private lessons. She had no real friends outside the literature club despite her popularity, and even when she was in the club she was usually too busy to focus on developing a relationship with her clubmates.

The girl never once complained, but sometimes her composure would slip for just a moment to show what hid behind that constant, almost robotic perfection. A tired, overworked girl who tried so very hard and resented every mistake she made.

Yuri didn’t know how she was going to address this issue, and she was well aware of her lacking social skills. She was essentially going in blind, which was when she performed her worst.

Oh god, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ll probably just mess up and make her even more stressed and then she’ll hate me and she’ll never open up to anyone in the club and it would be all my fault when she-

Yuri paused and took a deep breath. She couldn’t give up. She knew that if she stopped now, she’d do so again in the future, and again, and again until she ended up discarding the idea entirely. The poet was nothing if not self-aware, and she knew her own patterns. She could not let her fears stop her from helping her friends.

Even if you know you’ll make everything worse?

She ignored the thought and stood up.

She made her way to the desk beside Monika’s, sitting down hesitantly. The president noticed and set down her pen and looked at Yuri with her usual, practiced smile.

“Hello Yuri. Did you want to talk about something?”

Yuri smiled back nervously before replying, “Y-yes, actually…”

She trailed off.

Oh no I don’t actually know how to start this conversation. How do you address something like this? Maybe I should… No, that sounds stupid.

…

Come on, Yuri, now is not the time for your pathetic stuttering and social incompetence! Say something!

“Um, is everything alright?”

She dragged her violet eyes from the floor and back up to Monika’s emerald ones, which at the moment werebetraying concern for the taller girl. Yuri realized she had been sitting there fidgeting nervously with her hair for far longer than she thought.

And now Monika’s worried about me when this was supposed to be about her! All because of my-

“E-everything is okay with me, I-I just wanted to talk about something with you…”

Monika nodded, but still looked concerned.

She opened her mouth to press, but Yuri went on, stuttering and fearful, but trying to convey her sincerity, “I j-just wanted you to know that we… that we all a-appreciate everything you do for the club.”

Yuri’s shy smile returned as she found the words.

“But… but you don’t have to be perfect.”

Monika sat back and her eyes widened in surprise, but Yuri had uncovered that too often unused confidence, and she wasn’t stopping now.

“I want you to know that it’s okay if you make mistakes, it’s okay if sometimes you need help or fail because… because we’re not just your clubmates, we’re your friends.”

For just a moment, Yuri stopped thinking and stressing about what to say and started speaking from the heart, passionate and sure in a way that she usually only was while talking about books or writing.

“And we love you. Not as Monika, perfect student and valedictorian, but as Monika, our friend. Our friend who does so much to help us, who founded this club where I think we’ve all been happier.”

She spoke from the wish to be closer to the president, to get to know her better and be there for her.

“You can tell us when something’s wrong, if you’re feeling overworked or stressed. We won’t judge, and we won’t think less of you for being human.”

She spoke from the pain of knowing how Monika isolated herself, in a different way from Yuri herself, but isolated just the same.

“You don’t have to work alone, you don’t have to feel alone. You can be yourself because we don’t care if you’re perfect, we care that you’re happy. Because that’s what friends do.”

Suddenly, it registered in Yuri’s mind what had just happened. She had started rambling again. Monika was staring with blank-faced shock.

“S-so… Just know that y-you can talk to us about anything…”

Mentally reviewing what she said, she saw so many flaws, so many things she could have said better, but she couldn’t take it back now. No wonder Monika seemed so unsure.

“A-and if you just want to have fun or enjoy y-yourself, we’d be happy to oblige…”

She just sounded stupid, why did she think this was a good idea? Monika probably just felt uncomfortable now because Yuri came out of nowhere and started addressing this issue melodramatically. Stupid, always so stupid.

“A-and… I’m s-sorry…”

Yuri quickly stood.

“I’m sorry, I… I’m going to go.”

She rushed to pick up her book and bag, gaze firmly glued to the floor, as she didn’t think she could meet Monika’s eyes after that pathetic display.

Stupid. Now Monika’s uncomfortable and I’ve made a fool of myself once again. Why did I just assume that I knew all her problems? Why did I think I could fix them? Then I was stupid enough to let myself get emotional and start rambling, the exact opposite of what I should have done! Stupid, always so, so stupid.

She didn’t register where she was walking as her anxieties flooded through her mind like a tidal wave, unstoppable, unbearable. The waves in her mind pushed her under again and again, angrily frothing and swirling, pulling her along. Whirlpools and waves battering, breaking, taking her breath away, allowing no quarter, drowning out rational thought and calm emotions, she was drowning, drowning, faster faster she couldn’t breathe her lungs burned she couldn’t get enough air she was pathetic useless Monika hated her she’ll have to leave the club and she’ll be alone again she wouldn’t go back she couldn’t go back drowning drowning in fear and hatred for herself shealwaysruinedeverythingwhydidshestilltrysheshouldjust-

A stab of pain made her realize her fingernails had dug into her palm so hard they had started to draw blood. Looking around, she realized she was far away from the clubroom.

She glanced around nervously before darting into a bathroom. She pushed through the raging flood of her thoughts to rummage through her bag until sheshakily pulled out a long, curved knife with a rusty red wooden handle.

She rolled up the sleeve of her uniform, exposing the webwork of overlapping scars that littered her arms. There were too many to count at a glance, some years old, some made just the week before, some shallow and soon to be healed, many deep enough that they’d last forever, and some that seemed almost dangerously deep.

Drowning, battering.

She placed the knife against her forearm and pressed down until it split her skin, faint trails of blood dripping from it. A thrill of pain rushed down her arm, calming the raging floods somewhat. But it wasn’t enough. They still were still sweeping, still pulling. She dragged the blade down, down, the blood that trailed from the wound itself bleeding the fury from the raging flood, it drained down, down. The pain pierced through her scattered, confused thoughts, bringing focus. She calmed.

She was no longer drowning.

She removed the blade from her skin and looked at herself in the mirror, saw her many scars, saw the long new cut, blood running slowly from it, saw the bloody blade in her hand.

Pathetic.

Disgusting.

Freak.

No wonder I’ve always been alone. I deserve to be alone. I deserve this.

Tears streamed silently down her face as she turned on the faucet and cleaned both the blade and her arm with precise, practiced movements, ignoring the jolt of pain that came with pouring water on the wound.

I think I can help my clubmates, the ones who I consider my friends, when I’m like this? A disgusting monster?

No, she had not stopped drowning. She was drowning still, but instead of sweeping her up and taking away her breath, this was slower, insidious. Instead of being pulled under and swept along, she now was slowly sinking, down, down. Slowly losing the will to tread water, unable to see land to swim to. Slowly, slowly she was drowning.

The tears didn’t cease as she replaced the knife and took out a roll of bandages, wrapping the new cut just as efficiently as she cleaned it. She pulled her sleeve down, hiding her shame, and picked up her bag.

She walked home almost in a trance, tears silently splashing. The small house she called home beckoned. She opened the door with a key that only she possessed, and locked it behind her. In the darkness of curtained windows, no lights on and no candles lit, behind midnight blue walls that had seen her best and most desperate moment, she collapsed onto the couch that had sat none but her, put her head in her hands, and sobbed.

Chapter Text

Yuri hesitantly opened the doors of the clubroom to see that she was the first one to arrive. That was to be expected, as she always rushed to the clubroom and didn’t have any other responsibilities to delay her.

She hurried to the back of the classroom to sit at her normal desk, pulling out a book and trying to get immersed, but she was far too nervous to do so.

What will Monika do now? She surely hates me. Perhaps she’ll throw me out of the club?

The very thought pained Yuri to the core. The club was her only solace, the only place she could feel even somewhat comfortable around other people. To lose it…

Would be just what I deserve for being so insensitive, stupid, arrogant.

She sank further down into her seat.

When Monika walked in, she flinched, waiting for the president to berate her, tell her that she was uncomfortable with the violet-haired girl in the club and she needed to leave. Or, at the very best, to give false thanks while secretly knowing how stupid Yuri was.

But the president did none of this. In fact, she didn’t even seem to notice Yuri. She simply sat in the front, at the teacher’s desk, with a pensive expression on her face. To Yuri, she didn’t seem angry or upset. Just in deep thought, considering.

The poet didn’t know what to make of this. Perhaps Monika was just going to pretend like yesterday never happened? She didn’t know how she felt about that. On one hand, it didn’t seem Monika was going to throw her out of the club. But on the other hand, she still remembered what happened, still knew that Yuri knew her secret, and was now hiding even more behind her mask.

Yuri had not only failed, it seemed she had made the situation worse.

She tilted her head down to hide her eyes behind her long hair, giving up entirely on reading and not wanting to meet Monika’s eyes.

They stayed like that for a time, Monika sitting and thinking, Yuri hiding and trying not to panic again.

The stalemate, uncomfortable to Yuri and seemingly unnoticed by Monika, was broken by Sayori’s entrance. The vice-president burst into the room dramatically, twirling to make her unbuttoned blazer fly around like a cape.

“Heeeeeello, literature club!” she announced to the room at large.

Despite her situation, Yuri could feel a small smile come to her face, and she made no effort to restrain it. She needed it. Sayori, no matter what was happening, always managed to brighten any room she was in.

“Hey, Sayori!” Monika responded absentmindedly while Yuri gave a small wave. “Have you seen Natsuki today? I know you have a class with her.”

Sayori pouted and shook her head.

“Nope, she isn’t here today. Again!”

Yuri involuntarily shuddered. What was Natsuki suffering while she had been drowningin self-pity for no other reason than she might be thrown out of a club?

Monika and Sayori chatted for a bit, Yuri wasn’t really paying attention, lost in thought.

She was abruptly pulled out of it when Monika loudly said, “Yuri!”

The poet started and looked up at the president, wide-eyed.

Her emerald eyes were amused.

“Did you hear me that time?”

Was she talking to me before?

Now that she thought about it, Yuri realized she might have vaguely heard her name being said, but it hadn’t really registered.

She also realized she still hadn’t responded.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

Monika just nodded and said, “I’m going to be leaving early, so Sayori’s in charge.”

The president smirked a bit before adding, “Not that it really matters, considering half the club is going to be gone.”

Yuri nodded. Internally, she was panicking and trying to figure out what this meant.

Is this my fault? Is this because of what I said yesterday? Is she uncomfortable around me now to the point that she’ll avoid the club entirely to avoid interacting with me? Oh god this is all my fault.

No, I need to stop being conceited, the world doesn’t revolve around me. Maybe she just has something she needs to do, a recital or something.

But she never skips club. Is is coincidence that the very first time she does so is the day after I revealed that I knew she was struggling and made a fool of myself?

But what if-

“So, how’ve ya been, Yuri?”

Sayori’s voice pierced her thoughts and made her look up. She realized Monika had left a while ago and Sayori had probably been sitting in uncomfortable silence while Yuri was lost in thought.

The girl was currently sitting backwards on the chair of the desk in front of Yuri’s, head resting idly on one hand and a curious look on her face.

Why would she-

I need to say something

“I’ve b-been doing well, all things considered. School and all, you know how it is.”

Sayori looked down and nodded with a wistful expression.

“Yeah, yeah…”

Really? “School and all, you know how it is?” Could I give any more of a generic and boring answer? And I didn’t ask how she is, I should do that now-

“You know, we never really get to talk, Yuri.”

…

“Pardon?”

Sayori’s eyes met Yuri’s, more thoughtful than usual, but still with that air of cheerfulness that was almost always present. Deeper, if one looked closely, there lay an undercurrent also of melancholy, even more all-pervasive. That strange mix that Yuri found so very uniquely Sayori.

“Well, Monika and I talk a lot about club stuff, and Natsuki and I talk about manga a lot too, but I never really get to talk to you, and that’s a shame, because I’d really like to get to know you better.”

Yuri opened her mouth for a moment and then closed it, realizing she didn’t know what to say.

She wants to get closer to me? Me, of all people? When she has Monika and Natsuki to talk to at any time? Then again, that’s also very much so something she would do, making sure everyone in the club is comfortable, even someone like me. Maybe I should-

A hand snapping in front of her face snapped her back into the conversation. Yuri was about to apologize, but she realized Sayori didn’t seem irritated at all. Instead, she seemed… curious.

“You know, you do that a lot.”

Far, far too often.

“Y-yes. I’m so-”

“What do you think about?”

“… pardon?”

Sayori expression was not mocking or joking, just genuinely curious.

“What do you think about when you do that?”

Yuri took a long moment to stare at the floor and consider her response, while Sayori waited patiently.

“Well, I think about different things at different times, of course. Sometimes I’m thinking about books, or what kind of dinner I’m going to be having, things of that nature. But most of the time, when I’m lost in thought, I’m… over-analyzing. Considering what the people around me are saying or thinking, why someone is doing something, what they’re expecting of me,” A small, sad smile appeared on her face. “Ironically, it’s usually so that I can give a proper response, but I spend so much time thinking about what I should say that I end up not saying it, and by then the conversation has usually moved on.”

She looked back up to Sayori, meeting her cerulean gaze with her violet one. The smile grew just a tad more melancholy.

“I guess you could say that I just… worry a lot.”

The vice-president’s lips quirked in a way that matched Yuri’s. A rare moment where her cheer was nowhere to be seen.

“I think I know how you feel.”

When she first joined this club, Yuri would have mentally scoffed at the statement. But knowing what she did now, having seen what she had seen…

“I believe you do.”

Sayori’s eyebrow raised fractionally. Her smile slipped.

I shouldn’t, I’ll just-

“Sayori, could I… could I say something?”

The vice-president silently nodded, her eyebrow raising further.

This didn’t work the first time, why would it-

“I wanted to thank you. You’ve helped me more than you know, by being compassionate, by being a listening ear, and just by… being you. I think Monika and Natsuki would agree.”

She took a deep breath.

“Which is why I feel you should know that we want to help you too. In any way we can.”

Sayori’s smile dropped entirely for just a moment before her mask was put back up. But it wasn’t adjusted as well as usual, Yuri could see behind it, could see the brittle quality to her smile.

“T-thanks, Yuri! But I don’t really need help with-”

“I know you aren’t as happy as you pretend to be.”

The blue-eyed girl’s mask dropped off entirely, a look of disbelief and… shame replacing it.

“And I know you don’t want to bother us with your problems, but you’ve helped us so much in the past, and knowing you, you’ll continue to do so in the future. All I’m asking is that you allow us to return the favor.”

Sayori opened her mouth, but Yuri pushed on.

“You know, the only thing that hurts more than seeing you in pain, is knowing you’re in pain and are trying to hide it. Because I know you’re suffering. I don’t know exactly how, or why, or what exactly goes through your mind, but I know that much.”

Those brilliantly crafted smiles, those small slips, that underlying sorrow that never went away. That terrible knowledge was greater pain than any knife, Yuri was not lying.

“And… I just want you to know that you matter to us. To all of us. You’re such a kind, passionate person, always so willing to help with anything, always doing your best to support us… Not only would it not be a problem to help you in return, it would be a joy, knowing that we managed to give you, in some small way, the same thing you’ve given us in spades.”

Tears were rolling down Sayori’s face.

“We… I would love nothing more than to help you with your problems. I know I can’t make them go away, I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I know that even just the knowledge that you allowed me to try, that you might be just a small bit happier for my efforts… It would be worth anything. We all feel that way.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Yuri looking at the vice-president and she looking at the floor, tears streaming down.

No! Why did I do that? After what happened-

Sayori stood suddenly and raced out of the room, sobbing loudly.

Yuri stood up as well and reached after her, but soon let her arm fall, realizing it was no use.

I did it again. I got too emotional, said so many wrong things. I addressed this so suddenly andinsensitively, much too abruptly. I’m such an imbecile. She was crying. I made Sayori cry. Sayori, the one who is always so kind and has done so much for me, and I made her cry.

Thoughts, whirling, pulling, tossing, she couldn’t resist the waves that slammed against her again and again, she was drowning, drowning.

She raced to the bathroom, bag in hand.

I did it with Monika, now I’ve done it with Sayori. I tried to fix things, but I was arrogant and moved too fast and I ruined it just like I ruin everything

Her lungs burned, each short breath not drawing in enough oxygen.

She pulled the knife with the rusty red handle from her bag and rolled up her sleeves. Scars, so many, each a monument to her shortsightedness, her obsession, her weakness.

The knife was pressed against her skin, blood, running dripping, she was drowning, faster. The blade was dragged down her skin, leaving yet another blemish in its wake, one more monument.

Her thoughts calmed.

Disgusting.

Her head was barely above water and she was drowning, slowly, slowly.

Chapter Text

Yuri walked into the clubroom, head bowed and shoulders slumped. All day she hadn’t been able to get the thought of Sayori running away, sobbing, Monika, wide-eyed and not knowing how to respond. These people had helped her, had allowed her to, for once in her life, not be quite so alone. And how did she repay them? Exposing their secrets and confronting them, getting emotional and saying all the wrong things.

She just made everything worse.

The violet-haired girl sat in the back of the room once more and hid her face behind her hands.

I should leave the club. I’m just making everyone uncomfortable. I probably already was. I should have left a long time ago. I would have, if not for my selfishness. Perhaps-

The door slammed open violently, causing the poet to jump in surprise and looked up.

Natsuki was back.

“Hey, Yuri,” she said curtly before quickly making her way to the closet in the back of the room.

Yuri sighed. It was always like this when Natsuki was gone for a few days. When she returned, her usual crankiness would be amplified for a while until she eventually calmed down again. Before, when she first joined the club, she didn’t understand it at all and just thought Natsuki was a naturally abrasive person. Now, she just felt a deep sense of sorrow, knowing what the shorter girl must have been going through in those days out, knowing this was a defense mechanism.

…

No, I won’t do it again. I already ruined my relationships with two of my friends, I’m not going to do so with my last one.

The poet looked down at her hands.

But this will be my last chance. If I don’t at least try, Natsuki won’t confide in the rest of the club. She’ll just stay as she is now. Suffering and alone. She doesn’t deserve that.

Looking at the clock, Yuri realized that both Monika and Sayori should be here by now.

So I just do the same thing I did to them? Sayori is probably miserable, Monika is uncomfortable, and both are avoiding the club now.

…

Tomorrow, I’ll leave the club, no matter how this conversation goes. Monika and Sayori can return, and they can all be happy.

Everyone can be happy.

Yuri stood and walked over the closet, where Natsuki was looking through her manga. Personally, Yuri found manga a bit childish, but she knew better than to judge others for their interests.

“N-Natsuki?”

“What do you want?” Natsuki snapped at the taller girl.

Yuri shrank back a bit.

She’s already in a bad mood, perhaps I should do this another time.

No! I’m just trying to delay leaving the club. Don’t be a coward, you need to-

The baker let out a sigh.

“L-look, I’m… sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. Just… what do you want to talk about?”

Yuri’s eyes widened in surprise. Natsuki apologizing? Unheard of.

Why would-

S tart talking!

“Um, yes, i-it’s quite alright. I just wanted to discuss something with you.”

Natsuki made a ‘get on with it’ gesture.

Yuri put a hand on the doorframe to support herself, looking down at Natsuki.

“W-well…”

Deep breaths.

“Natsuki, you’re so strong. Probably the strongest person I’ve ever met. You’re talented and kind enough that it can’t be hidden behind your irritability and temper.”

Natsuki blushed confusedly, her eyes darting here and there, but she kept up her bravado, “Y-yeah, I know all that. Why?”

“A-and that’s why you deserve so much better than what you have now.”

Widened eyes, shock, familiar reactions.

“You know, everyone in the club cares about you, and you can talk to any of us about anything. Including your home situation.”

Furrowed eyebrows, shock turning to anger.

“I’m not saying you have to, I’m just saying that it might help. And whether you do or not, you know that any of us would be willing to put you up at our house.”

Red crept into her face, this time not from embarrassment.

“Every day when you go home, I’m always worried about what might be happening. That you might not come back. If Monika and Sayori knew, they’d be the same way, because we care about you, and we want to support you. If there’s anything we can do to-”

“You bitch!”

The fury in Natsuki’s voice made Yuri stumble back as if having been struck a physical blow, and Natsuki followed.

“I don’t need your help! You don’t know shit! Who do you think you are, trying to pry into my life like that? Fuck you!”

A fist was flying towards her face. Yuri just managed to get her arm in between Natsuki’s blow and her head, blocking it, though the piercing pain that shot through it reminded her of the recently made cuts hidden there. She stumbled back once more, clutching her arm and staring at Natsuki dully, awaiting another blow.

And again. I really do ruin everything. Natsuki is completely right.

But instead, Natsuki instantly froze after striking the violet-haired girl. She looked down at her fist as if it was a stranger to her.

“I d-didn’t mean t-to…”

She looked back up at Yuri with a shocked expression, but it quickly hardened.

“D-don’t tell anyone about… a-about the stuff you talked about, understand?”

Yuri silently nodded, still clutching her arm, partially from the pain, and partially to hide the blood soaking through her sleeve from the reopened cuts.

Natsuki nodded firmly, retrieved her bag, and exited the closet, shoulder-checking Yuri on the way out and making the taller girl stumble once more. She quickly left the clubroom.

Yuri pulled down the sleeve of her school uniform to look at the bleeding cut. Idly she watched as blood dripped down, down, from her arm, trailing down her arm, splashing to the floor.

A small red drop on the floor, a small red pool, a red ocean, land nowhere in sight. Slowly, slowly her will to swim faded.

Chapter Text

Monika sat in a chair in the spacious, well-lit dining room that was her usual writing spot, posture perfect, notebook in front of her, pen in hand. Yet she had written nothing, and instead was deep in thought.

She had skipped school today, ruining her perfect attendance record.

But…

“…but you don’t have to be perfect.”

She had a lot to think about, and she wasn’t sure she cared quite as much about school as she usually would. Her parents would probably be calling her soon , demanding an explanation, as they’d be home soon . They would be so disappointed in her. And that terrified her. And yet…

“You can be yourself because we don’t care if you’re perfect, we care that you’re happy.”

Not as much as it would have a few days ago.

Ever since Yuri had spoken to her two days ago, the president of the literature club had been pondering many things . She skipped club the day before, and now skipped an entire school day because there was far too much on her mind to focus on classes .

Monika had always held herself to a high standard because she had to, her parents would allow nothing less. Perfection, nothing less. That’s what she had always heard.

She knew her parents loved her, but that love had always been… conditional. Perfection in all things, perfect grades, perfect scores in athletics, extracurricular activities. She couldn’t afford to waste even a single moment.

But Yuri’s words had made her think.

The violet-haired poet had seen that which Monika had always tried to hide, knowing that if anyone knew, their perception of her would be ruined. Weakness. But Yuri… didn’t hate her. Didn’t think she was weak. She offered to help, told Monika it was… okay to fail.

That was something she had never, not once in her life, been told.

At the time, she had been too shocked by the circumstances to say anything, and Yuri eventually started apologizing, for what she didn’t know, and walked out. The president felt a bit bad about that, as well as skipping club the last few days, but she’d make it up to the violet-haired girl.

But now, she had a decision to make, one she had been agonizing over for a while. What should she do now?

Yuri knew she wasn’t perfect, knew that she got tired and stressed. How, she wasn’t sure, but she suspected she had underestimated how much the shy girl paid attention. The literature club had always been the place where she let down her guard the most, even if she never lost her perfect, confident front.

This was because i n the club she had found something that she hadn’t ever experienced before. True companionship. Others just wanted to be closer to her because of her popularity or her beauty, but none of the clubmembers were like that. Sayori probably didn’t even know she was popular, Natsuki liked her less for her popularity, and Yuri certainly didn’t care for that sort of thing.

And yet, they were her friends.

Even so, s he had never confided in them, never once shown a sign of stress or fatigue. But…

She was tired. Not just physically, not just mentally, but deep in her core. She was tired of pretending, tired of being perfect, tired of everything.

Perhaps… perhaps she didn’t need to pretend to everyone.

Perhaps she could confide in her clubmates.

Natsuki might make fun of her a bit, but it wouldn’t be serious, Sayori would be nothing but sympathetic, and Yuri had already expressed her willingness to listen.

Her mind kept returning to that one phrase.

“… we don’t care if you’re perfect, we care that you’re happy.”

I n the moment Yuri had said that, with such conviction, such honesty, that kind, gentle, understanding smile on her face… Monika had never felt so loved, so… safe. Because she believed the timid girl. She could be weak, she could make mistakes, and they wouldn’t care. She knew it to be true, but she had never dared test it for fear that she would lose her only true friends.

They just wanted her to be happy.

Something she never felt was true about her parents, however much they loved her.

Speaking of, she heard her mother calling for her from somewhere in the house. They were home. As she closed her notebook on her pen and stood up, she had a thought.

Tomorrow, I’m going to truly thank all of them for everything they’ve done for me.

*

Sayori stared at the ceiling of her darkened room, tears having finally dried, leaving her eyes red-rimmed.

Her tears may have stopped, but her thoughts continued to torture her, as they always did.

Idiot! Moron! I wasn’t happy enough, and now Yuri knows! She’s wasting her time worrying about me instead of herself. She’ll probably tell the others as well, and they’ll all waste their time on me instead of important things. I’ll drag them all down even more than I usually do.

She felt tears start to roll down her face once more.

The vice-president was used to days like this, but she hadn’t had one this bad for a very long time, not since joining the club. Though she had sometimes had to skip school, as she did today, telling her parents she was sick, it had been a long time since she had last felt such crushing self-loathing and lack of motivation to do anything other than lay on her bed, cry, and replay that conversation in her mind again and again. And it was all her fault, for being too weak, for letting Yuri see her true self.

But the poet… she hadn’t hated Sayori. She’d wanted to help her.

The knowledge brought a warm feeling to her chest, but it also felt like a dagger being driven into her stomach.

In fact, not only had Yuri not hated her, but even when she had been crying like a kid, Yuri had never lost that compassionate smile, only doing so when Sayori ran out. Then she looked… hurt.

Would I be hurting her more by not letting her help me? She even said it’s painful to know I’m hiding my pain.

No! I’m just trying to rationalize my selfishness. Besides, she wants to help, but she said herself that she doesn’t know exactly what’s wrong. She just thinks I’m a bit stressed or tired. She doesn’t know how pathetic I really am. If I let her help me, I’d just be a burden, even more than I already am.

She looked over at her closet, at what was hidden inside, and a plan appeared in her mind. Yet she rejected it more vehemently than she usually would, even with how hard her depression was weighing on her at the moment. She knew that if she did that, she’d been causing all of the other clubmembers far too much pain. They shouldn’t care about her, she was stupid and sad and ugly, but they did, and the last thing she wanted was to hurt them. Maybe a short time ago that plan would have come to fruition, but Yuri’s words, while they had caused her current inner turmoil, had also driven something into her mind, something part of her mind celebrated while the other part hated with almost as much passion as she hated herself.

They did care about her.

So that plan was out. But that still left the question.

What should I do now?

No matter how much she tried to formulate a plan, think about the future, her thoughts dragged her back into that cyclical echo chamber of self-hatred and guilt. She knew the excuse of being sick wouldn’t work twice without her parents getting worried, so she’d have to go to school tomorrow. And she couldn’t just abandon the club.

She’d have to confront Yuri again tomorrow.

Knowing the introvert, she wouldn’t bring it up herself. It must have taken a massive effort for her to even talk to Sayori as she had done. But that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t worry more and get suspicious the longer Sayori herself ignored it.

I’ll… I’ll have to lie to her. That’s just about all I’m good at anyway. I’ll just say that sometimes being vice-president is kinda stressful. She’ll still be worried, but if I can stop myself from being weak again, it’ll fade. And she’ll have no reason to tell the others.

The thought of lying to Yuri when all she wanted was to help her made her sick to her stomach, but it had to be done. Otherwise, she’d waste even more concern on her, and based on what they’d been talking about before Yuri had dropped that bombshell on her, the poet worried enough as it was. She didn’t need to be adding something as useless as Sayori to her list.

No matter what… she can’t know the truth.

*

Natsuki slowed as she approached her house, an old, rundown thing that looked about ready to collapse, with peeling brown paint and broken windows. L uckily her father’s car wasn’t in the street , meaning she was alone for now. She took full advantage of this by slamming all the doors on her way to her room and stomping up the rickety stairs, venting some of her frustration physically.

She flopped onto the springless bed in her room with a huff. It was the cleanest place in the house, free of bottles, clothes, or other trash, though the peeling pink paint and stench of alcohol made sure she still remembered what a shithole she lived in. She stewed in her anger for a time.

Who did Yuri think she was? Assuming Papa was a bad person, telling her to leave him and go to one of the clubmembers’ house. She didn’t know Papa, what he’d been through! She couldn’t just leave him!

She never condemned Papa. She doesn’t care about him, she cares about me.

W-well, she was fine! She didn’t need help from that edgy bitch or anyone else!

The rumbling of her stomach and the knowledge that there was no food in the kitchen immediately contradicted her thoughts.

Yuri thought she was weak! She thinks she can just swoop in and solve all of Natsuki’s problems?

She never said I was weak, she just offered help. She didn’t even say I needed it. She just said that if I wanted it, the club could give it to me. She didn’t offer to solve my problems, and she can’t. She just offered to help, if I wanted it.

She…

She couldn’t leave Papa. He was all she had, and she was all he had. Even if he was an asshole, even if he didn’t make enough money, even if he hurt her… they were the only family they had left.

Images of green, blue, and violet flashed through her mind.

Or… was he?

When she first joined the club, it was just to have a place to store her manga. But over time, she had started depending on it for another reason entirely, because it provided something she hadn’t had in far too long, since her mother left.

People who cared about her.

Monika, who, despite constantly leaving her manga up too high and arguing that manga wasn’t literature, still showed how much she cared in small, unsure gestures and standing up for the smaller girl. Yuri, who, despite their increasingly infrequent arguments , had always been kind and understanding. And Sayori, sweet Sayori, who always did her best to make sure everyone was happy, even at the expense of herself at times .

As much as Natsuki tried to hide it, she cared about all of them too, all of them having wormed their way into her heart despite the barriers put in place to prevent such an eventuality.

S he sighed heavily, the last of her anger draining away. She’d have to apologize to Yuri tomorrow, as much as she hated doing it.

She couldn’t leave Papa. They both needed each other too much for her to do so . But maybe talking to her friends, telling them what she had been going through…

Maybe it would help.

Tomorrow… I have a lot to explain to my friends.

Chapter Text

Monika strode towards the clubroom confidently, outwardly showing no sign of worry. Inwardly, she was formulating her short explanation and thanks to the club . She was having quite a bit of trouble, for despite the president’s leadership skills and skill in debate, she was still unsure how to really talk to people.

She pushed open the doors to the club, looking around and being somewhat surprised to see that Yuri wasn’t already here, but mentally shrugged it off. She had been the first to the room a few times before, when Yuri was held up by something.

She walked over to her normal spot at the teacher’s desk, but noticed a paper sitting on the desk. She curiously picked it up, and immediately recognized the elegant, flowing script. It was a poem, written by a familiar hand. A moment was taken to scan the room to make sure the poet wasn’t in the room before she looked back to it in confusion.

She started reading.

*

Sayori stood outside of the club for a moment to compose herself.

This is it.

She burst through the doors with a wide smile.

“Good evening, literature club!”

A smile that weakened slightly when she read the mood of the room. Monika was pacing in the front of s aid room, a worried expression on her features. This aroused no small amount of concern in Sayori, as it w asn’t common to see such things pasted so blatantly on the president’s face. Natsuki was sitting in a desk in the front instead of being in the back, tapping her foot while watching Monika walk back and forth. Yuri was nowhere to be seen.

The two turned to her.

“Hey, Sayori,” Monika said distractedly.

Sayori let her smile drop entirely, replacing it with a look of curious concern.

“What’s going on, guys? Where’s Yuri?”

Natsuki huffed and stood, walking over to Sayori with a paper in her hand.

“Monika’s overreacting because of one of Yuri’s unreadable poems.”

The baker thrust the paper into Sayori’s hands, and she fumbled a moment before taking it and reading it over quickly, though she soon slowed down, as she usually had to do while reading anything of Yuri’s. Monika just continued pacing.

The ghost flickered under amber light

Moving, yet unable to cross the line between past and present

Though still she would look out at that horrifying blue-green

And envy all others, who made their home there

Until one day, she was approached

By figures, strong and solid

One offered the ghost their hand

She took it, and was pulled into the world of blue-green light

For a time, the ghost stopped flickering as much

For once anchored in the present

Held there by those figures

And for once, the ghost was happy

And yet, when she looked closer

She realized those who were anchoring her

Were themselves flickering

Not as she did, not flickering to beautiful, insidious ambers whimsy

Yet flickering all the same

That strength, that solidity

It did not come from lack of hardship

But through the strength of those figures

So much greater than her own

The ghost made a promise

She would help these figures as best she could

Just as they helped her

Together, they might build themselves up to what they could be

But no matter how hard the ghost tried
And try she did
She did nothing but worsen their plight
Taking and taking and giving nothing back

And the ghost had a sudden realization

Perhaps it would have been better

Had she not left her amber light at all

For this blue-green was too beautiful for one such as her

She pulled away, and she dived into her amber streetlight

And now stayed where she belonged

Immortalized, as all one day are

In that glow that all may see and none may touch

Left to become nothing more than amber light

Shining at the back of those figures

Sayori scratched the back of her head. She definitely didn’t understand all of the poem, but she understood enough that she thought Monika might be right to be worried.

“ We should talk to Yuri about this next club,” she commented.

Monika stopped pacing and walked over with that same worried expression as she said, “That’s the thing, I think this poem is saying she’s leaving the club. None of us have any classes with her, she hasn’t been answering her phone, and she could pretty easily avoid talking to us if she wanted to. None of us know where she lives. Unless you do, Sayori?”

At this last statement the president looked at Sayori, obviously not expecting anything. Sayori shook her head, confirming it.

“Just like Yuri to leave us a poem that makes us guess what’s she actually doing,” Natsuki grumbled, though she couldn’t completely keep a worried note from entering her voice.

Monika threw a, quickly ignored, sharp glance at Natsuki, but didn’t comment, rather saying, “Well, we can still try to catch her at lunch or just after school before club starts. She can’t avoid us forever.”

The baker threw her pink hair back and said, “I don’t understand why she wants to leave in the first place.”

Monika took the poem back from Sayori’s hands and scanned it over quickly before responding, “Well, I think she felt like she was hurting us somehow.”

She sighed heavily and lifted her emerald eyes from the poem.

“And I think I know at least part of why. A few days ago, Yuri tried to help me with something I’ve been… struggling with, and I’ve been pretty much avoiding her since then because I had to think what she said over. She must have thought I was avoiding her because she messed something up. We all know how she worries about things. Did either of you have a similar experience?”

Sayori’s surprise grew with each statement her president made. Yuri had tried to help Monika with something as well? Looking over at Natsuki, she saw a similar response.

The shortest girl was the first to respond.

“Yeah, she… we talked about something I need to talk about to all of you, but now’s not the time. But yeah, I didn’t exactly…” she suddenly looked down, an unfamiliar expression of guilt on her face, “I didn’t exactly respond well.”

Sayori didn’t think it was possible to hate herself any more than she already did, but here they were. She had driven Yuri away from the club because of her irrational reaction.

Stupid me and my stupid depression. Now Yuri feels bad because of me of all people! Beautiful, smart, timid Yuri feeling guilty over failing to help someone as useless as me.

She gulped and looked up at expectant pink and green before she quietly said, “Y-yeah, she talked to me too…”

Sayori didn’t expound, but it was obvious from her expression that the conversation hadn’t gone Yuri’s way either. She was sure the other two were curious what the poet might have discussed with cheerful, ditsy Sayori, just as she wondered what issues they may have, but no ne asked.

The president sighed. She took a moment before standing up straighter.

“Well, there’s no point in feeling guilty now. We just have to catch Yuri tomorrow, explain everything, then we can all talk about whatever it is we need to talk about, she’ll come back and the literature club will be whole once more!”

Sayori her spirits rise just a tad, though the smile she gave Monika was still mostly forced . Not that anyone could tell.

Natsuki was unable to suppress a snort, though she probably hadn’t tried too hard to do so .

“That was corny as hell, Monika.”

Monika threw back a confident smirk that seemed entirely unaffected by the baker’s comment, though Sayori could see it wasn’t as genuine as it usually s eemed to be .

“ Well, I suppose you two can do your usual for the rest of club. We can’t get to Yuri now if she isn’t answering her phone , so we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to try to corner her. And I assume that whatever issues you wanted to talk about,” she gestured to Natsuki, “you want to wait on until Yuri’s here too?”

The baker simply nodded and made her way to the back, headed straight for her manga. Monika walked over to the teacher’s desk and continued to read over Yuri’s poem with a thoughtful expression on her face.

Sayori just collapsed into a desk and tried not to cry as the brief glimpse she had gotten of Yuri’s hurt expression from two days prior played through her mind. While she had been being selfish and lazy all day yesterday, Yuri had believed that she had hurt her. The girl didn’t deserve to feel that kind of guilt, especially for someone as useless as Sayori.

I’m driving away the people who actually deserve to be in this club, to be friends with these people. This is all because she cares about me. This is just more proof why she shouldn’t, just look how it ended up for her.

Her downward spiraling was interrupted by a hand on her shoulder. She arranged her features into a mask of cheeriness as quickly as she could, and looked up to see Monika staring down at her, her furrowed brows and thin lips showing that her worry had returned.

Because of me. Again.

“Hey Monika! What’s up?”

The president removed her hand and sat in the desk next to her second-in-command.

“I just wanted to see how you’re holding up.”

“I’m doing alright,” she automatically replied, though she realized it would seem suspicious if she didn’t show at least some concern. “Just a bit worried about Yuri, ya know? Feeling a bit guilty too, I guess.”

She hadn’t meant to add that last part. She internally cursed herself as Monika thought through her response.

“Yeah, I think all of us are. Worried and guilty, I mean,” she added with a small s mile. “But don’t worry too much, Sayori. We’ll all talk to Yuri and sort all this out.”

“Right!” the president shot back with a beam that wasn’t entirely faked this time. Monika’s confidence was infectious.

They sat in silence for a minute or so, and just as Sayori was starting to retreat back into her dark thoughts, Monika let out a small chuckle.

The vice-president looked at her curiously, and Monika explained, “I’m surprised Yuri was able to approach us all over these last few days. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen her initiate a conversation.”

Sayori nodded, thinking back to the conversation she had with the introvert. At first, she had been hesitant and stuttering, but she had quickly transitioned into the calm, confiden t orator that was typical of her when she was talking about something she was passionate about.

The fact her own happiness was something that Yuri was passionate about both warmed her and sent another pang of guilt through her, a combination that seemed to be characteristic of the last few days.

Monika’s words brought about another thought, however, one she seized desperately as an alternative to sliding back into her increasingly turbulent depressive thoughts.

Yuri had spoken to Natsuki about something the baker wanted to now discuss with the entire club, and had apparently talked to Monika as well. What could that possibly have been? And how had Yuri seen it? From the context, it seemed they had spoken about some issues the other club members had, but what they might be escaped Sayori entirely.

Natsuki was brash, confident, and quick-tempered. Her love for manga and cute things would have made her a target for bullying, if it weren’t for the fact that everyone in the school was well aware of the small girl’s ability and willingness to punch someone’s teeth in. Perhaps she wanted to talk about her anger issues or something?

And of Monika she was even more unsure. The only flaw Sayori could identify in her president was her occasional awkwardness when it came to talking to people, and inability to defuse the arguments Yuri and Natsuki had sometimes used to get into. Other than that, the president was practically perfect.

The vice-president had a much harder time identifying the flaws in others than she did seeing them in herself.

It wasn’t much longer before Monika stood up and announced that club was over, stuffing Yuri’s poem in her bag as she did so. The girls dispersed to their various homes.

As she skipped alone, humming a jaunty tune, Sayori couldn’t help but dread what tomorrow might bring.

Chapter Text

Yuri wasn’t at school the next day, and because it was Friday, they would have to wait out the weekend.

Natsuki reluctantly walked home, not particularly looking forward to another stint in that hellhole, but dreading the consequences of not coming straight home much more. She still hadn’t spoken to her clubmates about what she was going through, still maintaining that she wanted to tell the whole club at the same time.

The fact she had been so determined to talk about her issues that day, having been mentally preparing through her classes, and then being forced to wait for, at the very least, four days, caused Natsuki no small amount of anger. Normally, it would be directed at Yuri, for delaying, but the guilt she felt about being one of the main causes for the timid girl leaving the club made sure that didn’t happen. Instead, she chose to direct her anger at the universe at large, which was pretty easy, considering how much it consistently fucked her over.

Ah, the guilt. It was an emotion Natsuki was unfamiliar with, as most of the time when she yelled at someone, they deserved it. Whether they be an asshole, an idiot, or both, like her dad, she usually directed her prodigious temper towards those who needed to feel it, and she never felt any remorse for such things.

But Yuri? The timid girl was neither an asshole nor an idiot, as much as Natsuki might call her both. And while she had yelled at the girl plenty back when they argued more, she never really felt guilty, seeing as Yuri had responded with anger of her own, even if her anger tended to be of a much quieter and colder sort than Natsuki’s.

This time, Yuri had been doing nothing but try to help, and she had not only yelled at the girl, but actually tried to hit her. When she thought back to it, her anger, her words and actions, they reminded her of Papa. And that terrified her. The blank expression Yuri had on her face and her lack of resistance, simply nodding limply to the shorter girl’s threat, made her feel even more guilty upon review.

And then Yuri had left the club, which she had before expressed, through poetry and direct speech, as being the only place she felt comfortable around other people, usually preferring to be alone. And as much as she knew that her reaction was understandable, if not justified, Natsuki knew that she herself had been the final nail in the coffin.

As much as she hated doing so, she knew she would have to give a serious apology to the girl when they next talked. More than words. Perhaps she could bake something Yuri liked?

Yet the short girl’s musings were cut short when she spotted the ramshackle hut that passed for her house and she froze up in fear for a moment. Her father’s beat-up old car was in the street in front of the house. Papa was home.

She shook her head angrily and forced her limbs into motion, just hoping the bastard wasn’t drunk.

Carefully, she opened the squeaky old door, making sure to be much more cautious than she was the other day. She peered inside, the stench of alcohol that seemed to follow her Papa everywhere hitting her as she squinted to make out shapes in the dimness of the house. The lights were out and curtains drawn, as they often were when her father was home.

The unappealing brown paint that covered all the walls but those in her room framed the sagging furniture and trash on the floor as she tiptoed through the living room and towards the stairs.

Floorboards creaking in the kitchen adjacent the living room informed her that her father was indeed home, and it was further confirmed when the tall, pink-haired silhouette of her father appeared in the doorway, freezing her in her tracks.

“Natsuki?” he asked gently.

She relaxed a bit at the sound of his voice. She could tell from how clearly he said it that he was sober, which meant this might not go too badly.

“What?” she responded curtly.

Papa sighed heavily before advancing into the room, which made Natsuki flinch back a little. The sight made him flinch himself. His tall form was grossly corpulent, borne of a diet consisting more of alcohol than food, as well as a lack of any true exercise.

“Nat, I just wanted to… I wanted to apologize for a few days ago. I was drunk again, and I know that’s not an excuse. What I said was unacceptable, and…”

Natsuki tuned him out, more than used to his behavior. He would act apologetic and mournful, it might even be genuine, she didn’t know, but he would always go back to the bottle. Then any regret meant nothing, and he would rant and rave and hit her as punishment for the smallest thing once again.

She didn’t even know exactly what he was apologizing for at the moment, it all tended to blend together for her. Was he talking about when he punched her in the stomach for interrupting him? Or was he speaking of the time he told her she was pathetic and that it was no wonder she didn’t have any friends? Or maybe the days he kept her home from school, spouting about how he could teach her better than any teacher, when in reality he just lectured her on why she was a horrible daughter and how she should do what he says before collapsing in a drunken heap?

She didn’t know. She didn’t particularly care, either. It had been a long time since she had given up hope her Papa would ever change. She just waited for the man to stop talking so that she could escape up to her room.

He eventually noticed that she wasn’t listening and trailed off.

Smart man, Natsuki thought sarcastically.

He sighed again, his sorrowful pink eyes falling to the floor.

“L-look, I’m sorry. You… you can go.”

She just nodded and turned away, quickly darting up the stairs and into her room. Honestly, as much as she hated the repetitive, meaningless apologies that always came when he was sober, she much preferred it to when he was drunk.

A few minutes later, she heard his car pull away and mentally cursed.

She didn’t think he’d remain sober for long.

*

Monika closed the iron gate behind her and started up the trail leading to her home. The long, paved path was framed by trees, their green branches hanging down low enough to touch.

Up ahead, she could see the house. It was hard to miss, being quite large, almost enough so to be called a mansion. Graceful stone arches held up the roof, and the wood that made up the walls was unpainted, though high-quality and well-maintained enough that the unpainted nature of it simply seemed to be implying that paint was unneeded, and would simply diminish the grandeur.

The president entered and walked to the dining room, where she usually did her writing. As she did so, she ignored the well-lit, massive hallways, lined with paintings and vases. She was long used to them.

She set her bag down and pulled out Yuri’s poem once more, mulling it over and trying to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. She was concerned about Yuri, not just as the girl’s president, but as a friend. The fact she hadn’t shown up at school today, while no completely unexpected, did nothing to alleviate that concern.

And as she reviewed the poem once more, she considered something that she hadn’t before. Something she hoped with all her heart she was wrong about.

If she wasn’t…

She’d find some way to get to Yuri if the introvert wasn’t at school Monday.

But for now, she could do nothing, so she put the poem back in her bag and pulled out her notebook, jotting down poem ideas and small passages.

It was about an hour later when she heard the door of the room open, suddenly jerking her out of her thoughts. She looked up to see her mother walking in, straight-backed and stern, as always.

Her mother was of average height, and wasn’t particularly muscular, yet that didn’t stop the woman from being terrifying when she wanted to be. Her piercing emerald eyes could seem to stare into your soul if she so desired, and she used that in combination with her business acumen to be one of the highest-ranking employees in a large company in the city.

Immediately behind her was Monika’s father, a man thin and sharp as a razor wire, with a professional demeanor that seeped even into his private life. Monika didn’t think she had even seen him in anything but a suit, his auburn hair meticulously combed. He worked in the same company as her mother, almost as high-ranking as his wife.

They both walked over and sat across from Monika at the table, and she straightened her back subconsciously, plastering a smile on her face.

“Good to see you went to school today. I don’t want to see a repeat of yesterday ever again, understand? You have to be present and punctual if you ever want to be successful,” her mother rattled off with a sharp expression.

“Yes, mother,” Monika immediately replied, trying to sit even straighter.

The older woman sighed, and her expression softened.

“Good. Now, how was your club today?”

Monika’s smile dropped a bit.

“It was good, for the most part, but Yuri wasn’t at school today, so we weren’t able to talk to her.”

Her mother frowned a bit, and commented, “Well, if she can’t be bothered to even show up, I’m not sure why you’re bothering with her. Perhaps-”

She paused as her husband laid a hand on her shoulder and he finally spoke, giving his daughter a small smile, “I’m sorry to hear that. But I’m sure you’ll be able to sort out whatever is going on with your friend on Monday, and everything will go back to normal.”

She nodded at him with a smile that was a bit more genuine.

“Of course, Father.”

He nodded, and removed his hand from his wife’s shoulder.

They spoke for a small time longer about this and that, before her parents excused themselves, her mother going to prepare some food and her father to tend to his garden. Of course, they made enough money that they could hire people to do either task, but they both enjoyed these things as hobbies.

And as Monika reopened her notebook and put pen to paper, her thoughts returned to her clubmates. Sayori, who had been acting strangely these last few days, and who apparently had some issue that Yuri discussed with her. Natsuki, who had something she needed to say, but refused to do so without the entire club being there. And of course, Yuri, who had tried to help them and now was avoiding them because she believed they hated her.

As much as she loved her friends, the president couldn’t help but wonder…

When the hell did everything get so complicated?

*

Sayori checked her phone once again while she walked home, knowing that she wouldn’t see any response from Yuri, but being unable to help looking just once more. Nothing.

She sighed and put her phone in her pocket, picking up her pace a bit. She really just wanted to get in her bed, lie down, and never get up again. She wouldn’t of course, she couldn’t worry her friends like that. But at the very least lying in her bed for the rest of the evening would be good enough for now.

She eventually passed the empty house next to hers and reached her own home, a nondescript house among nondescript houses. She opened the door and loudly announced that she was home.

Last time for a while I have to be happy. Just a little longer and I can collapse in bed.

Her mother responded and walked into the living room. She was a short woman, barely taller than Sayori herself, with a near-constant wide smile that pushed her blue eyes into a squint.

She pulled Sayori into a hug, which she enthusiastically returned.

“Hi, sweetie. How was your day?”

The vice-president pulled away and automatically replied, “Pretty good! Club was fun, as always!”

She made no mention of the fact that she had been mentally berating herself all day, the crushing guilt at the fact that Yuri had skipped school entirely, how the club felt strange with only three members.

Her mother’s smile stretched just a bit wider.

“Good, good! Your father should be home soon, he had to work a bit late.”

Sayori nodded and glanced at the stairs to her room. Usually she would converse with her mother for a while, for she had an uncanny ability to make her feel a bit better, even without knowledge of the fact her daughter had depression, but today she really wasn’t feeling up to it.

“Alright. Hey, is it fine if I go lay down? I’m feeling a bit tired.”

Her mother immediately clapped her shoulder and nodded with a somewhat concerned expression, “Oh, you must still be feeling some of that illness from a few days ago. Well, you go lay down, dear, don’t strain yourself.”

“Alright, Mom!” Sayori said with a grin before leaving her mother to make her way to her room. Once she had, she let her bag and smile drop to the floor and grabbed Mr. Cow before flopping into bed, the stuffed animal cradled in her arms.

It was a very long time before she was able to gather the motivation to get up once more.

Chapter Text

Yuri wasn’t at school Monday.

The girl only missed school rarely, and between this, her not answering her phone, and the implications of the poem she had left behind, Monika was extremely concerned for her friend.

She was once again pacing in the front of the clubroom, thinking furiously. Sayori sat in the front with a distracted l ook, staring into space , Natsuki beside her trying and failing to not look concerned.

“Well, the hell are we supposed to do?” the baker responded to Monika voicing her thoughts aloud. “We don’t know where she lives, and we don’t really have any way to find out unless she tells us, which isn’t exactly looking likely.”

Monika sigh ed , not slowing her pacing. She eventually reached a decision. She stood still and faced her clubmates.

“I could call for a welfare check…” she hesitantly stated.

Sayori looked up for the first time since club started and asked, “A what?”

The shortest girl, on the other hand, just huffed irritably.

“Since when does involving the police help anything?”

Monika quirked an eyebrow at the girl. That sounded… particularly vehement. Did Natsuki have some sort of history with the police?

Monika dismissed the question for now, though she stored it for later.

“It’s where you ask the police to go check on someone you’re worried about for some reason. It’s usually for elderly people or people who are at risk of… hurting themselves.”

Sayori’s eyed widened, and the girl looked almost panicked.

“D-do you really think Yuri…”

Monika closed her eyes and carefully said, “I… I don’t know, Sayori. But I’m worried about Yuri. I’ve been looking over that poem she left, and… well, I’m worried it’s more than we think it is.”

Sayori looked down once more, a blank expression on her face . Natsuki seemed doubtful, but couldn’t hide that she was considering Monika’s point, and was disturbed by how plausible it was.

“W-well, as much as I hate to admit it, I think Monika’s right. If she’s fine, at worst she might be a bit annoyed, but it’s Yuri. Not like it’ll last long. And if Monika’s right…” Natsuki trailed off.

The president nodded at her, registering her approval.

Sayori spoke quietly, somberly, quite unlike her usual tone, as she said, “We don’t have any other way to contact her, and she’s had three days a nd today. You’re both right.”

Monika nodded determinedly and pulled out her phone, stepping out of the clubroom for a minute.

*

Thursday night , the day Yuri left the literature club.

Yuri lay still on the floor of her darkened home, in a pool of blood, still being fed by the last trickles coming out of the many, dangerously deep cuts on her arms. If one were to walk in and see her, they might assume she was dead.

But not yet.

This was the thought the poet had as she slowly opened her violet eyes. They darted down to the knife in her paler-than-usual hand, the tool she had used to inflict this upon herself .

The pain throbbing in her arms and in her head kept her calm, unnaturally calm. There was no waves in her mind, no push or pull. Yet still, her head was just barely above water.

She let the knife fall from her hands and slowly put her hands under her, welcoming the pain that pierced through her very being as she used her tattered arms to push herself up.

She stumbled through the unlit hallways of her house until she made it to the bathroom, where she sloppily cleaned out her cuts, almost collapsing from the pain as water ran through the many incisions.

This is what I deserve.

Yuri worried a lot. It was a fact of her existence, one she was long used to. But now, for once, there was little fear in her mind. Dread for what the future may hold was almost nonexistent. There was only solemn acceptance.

Once the blood had mostly been washed out, she loosely wrapped some bandages around her arms, still letting out crimson streams that stained the pure white cloth. She didn’t really care about taking care of the wounds, but she wouldn’t allow her blood to stain the work she would do next.

She made her way to her room, to the desk where she did most of her writing. She neatly removed three pieces of paper from her notebook and lay them upon the familiar wooden surface. The desk was as an old friend to her, for she knew every one of the many stains, every chip, every imperfection. Upon it she had let her thoughts flow in ink many times, and she would not have these letters be written upon any other surface.

Upon the top of the first page, she wrote, “Dear Monika”.

Upon the second, “Dear Sayori”.

Upon the last, “Dear Natsuki”.

Here, on these pages, she wrote out some of the thoughts that usually overflowed in her mind, though now she wrote them calmly, almost dispassionately, silently letting all that filled her mind spill upon those pages.

She reviewed them all carefully, as she always did. She did not allow herself to share subpar work, for her writing was one of the few things she allowed herself to feel pride in.

She ended each one, “With love, Yuri.”

With that, she took out three pure white envelopes and sealed the letters within, writing the name of each club member in her neatest, most elegant handwriting on the outside of each.

She left them on that old desk, which had seen her write down her thoughts so many times. She walked out of her room, leaving behind her collection of blades, beautiful pieces to a one.

That I desecrated with my disgusting ‘habits’.

She left behind the bed she had cried herself to sleep upon many times, the bookshelves that held the tomes that had been her only friends for so long, which had kept her entertained, been her only source of hope and motivation. She left behind the poems, all of which had a piece of her heart and mind entangled within knot s of words and metaphor.

She walked past the kitchen, which held the tea that had kept her warm on many a night, the scented candles that calmed and soothed her. She once again entered her living room, seeing the pool of her blood beside the knife on the floor.

She picked up the knife and sat on the overstuffed couch that had never seated anyone but her, facing a dusty TV, rarely used. She looked around the room, so often lit by soft candlelight or the light of the sun and moon, as she disliked the brightness of lamps. The midnight blue walls that had so long housed her, been the backdrop to her best and most desperate moments. The wooden floor, well-made and worn smooth by years of her passage, that was so familiar under her feet. The bloodstain upon it, just one more way she tainted this world.

She looked down at the knife, a beautiful thing, not even the bloodstains being able to hide the fact it was so. The wooden handle was carved in elegant patterns, the blade long and slightly curved.

She grasped the handle, pointing the blade back towards her, and held it over her heart, beating madly despite her calm, for it was trying to make use of the too-little amount of blood still with in her.

Yuri took a deep breath and closed her eyes, seeing pink, green, blue. Those who had pulled a lonely ghost from under amber light, took her in and made her feel comfortable in the present for the first time in far too long. Those who were damaged, suffering, hiding behind masks. Those she had caused nothing but pain and strife to.

She felt a single tear running down her cheek. Why? This…

This is for the best.

The knife trembled.

The ghost took a deep breath. Water streamed down her cheeks, leaking, a result of that vast, calm ocean, where her head finally plunged under the water. Where she finally gave up.

The knife plunged down into the weak, madly beating heart.

There, on that overstuffed couch that had only ever sat her, in that dark room, so often lit by soft candlelight or the light of the sun and moon, within midnight blue walls that had been sole witness to her quiet suffering, there lay Yuri for the rest of that night, and the next day, and the next, and the next, and it was not until the next, towards the afternoon, that light once again pierced that room, brought by a police officer, responding to a call for a welfare check, who discovered the body of a young girl who drowned in her mind.

Chapter Text

Three girls, emerald, cerulean, pink, wielding masks that were once impenetrable, now cracked. They sat in a room full of memory, of their meeting, of their developing friendship, of the close bond they now shared, all within this room.

Yet there was one missing, and her absence was keenly felt.

One paced, cracked mask concealing whirling thoughts, planning, considering, and, above all, hoping.

One stared at the ground, cracked mask concealing sluggish thoughts of self-blame that dragged her down, slowly, slowly.

One stared at the others, cracked mask concealing deep concern, both for the one absent, and the two present.

This last was the only one who noticed the cracks in the previously well-crafted masks.

The toll of the leader’s phone rang out loud, a herald of changing times in this quiet room full of memories.

She answered hesitantly, emerald meeting pink, then blue as she listened.

Cracks grew, thick, irreparable, her mask slowly crumbling as she stayed quiet. Emerald eyes went wide, softly she mouths useless denials. The phone drops from her hand, hitting the ground with a loud crack that makes the other two jump.

Dreading the answer, they looked fearfully up towards their leader.

“Yuri… Yuri committed suicide, a few days ago. She stabbed herself.”

Blue eyes stare at her blankly, uncomprehending. Masks crumble.

Pink eyes stare tearfully as brows above furrow in anger.

Angrily, the youngest stands and shouts denials. No, no, she must be lying. She must be.

She must be.

Desperately, she clings to that crumbling mask. She screams and rants, but emerald eyes see the tears streaming down her face. She understands.

Tears run from blue eyes, until a loud sob interrupts the youngest’s tirade. Silently, now, does she look to her friend, the last sitting.

Until their leader walks over and pulls the sobbing girl onto the floor and embraces her, the tightness of her hug conveying what her words could not, tears running down her face as well.

The third joins them, the three clinging to each other, as if they were rafts on a raging sea, steadying each other, anchoring.

Three girls with broken masks embraced on the floor of a room that contained many memories, of their meeting, of their developing friendship, of their close bond, where they had shared joy and sorrow. Yet there was one missing, and her absence was keenly felt. That room, full of memories, memories that in truth, were only in the minds of those three girls.

And those amber memories were the only place pink, blue, and emerald would ever meet purple again.

*

It was a very long time before any of them had the will to separate.

Monika was the first, as she lightly pulled back and looked up at the clock to realize club had ended long ago, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Red-rimmed emerald eyes turned back to regard the other two members of the literature club. Sayori’s sobs had quieted, but she still shook and heaved periodically, her closed eyes not yet drained of tears. Natsuki, who had not long ago been angrily shouting at the president, now had any anger replaced by misery.

Looking at her friends only renewed the ache Monika could feel deep in her chest, an ache that no amount of clawing at herself or crying could alleviate, let alone touch. It was an ache that was many times worse than any physical ailment, for even as she could feel it pressing in on her heart, feel that lingering pain, she knew she could do nothing about it, and it would never go away, not completely.

The only thing that could stop those claws digging into her chest was the sight of Yuri, alive and whole.

Yet, that was something she’d never see again, she reminded herself. She threw herself back into the group embrace, and though it was still there, still strong and squeezing her heart, the warmth of her friends made that ache recede, if only a little.

But as memories, unbidden, came to her, the claws around her heart tightened a bit more, causing her to tighten her hold on her friends in turn, trying to fend off the feeling.

Memories of Yuri’s timid smile, not seen nearly as often as she’d like, yet so very beautiful when it was. Memories of the girl shyly sharing her interests, as if she was afraid they would ridicule her for even bringing them up, and then excitedly rambling once they didn’t, as if it was a rare opportunity she had to seize while she could.

Memories of her trying to comfort Monika with a kind smile, then apologizing and rushing out, one of the last times she had ever spoken to the introvert.

Her heart felt like it was being dragged down, her ribcage compressing her lungs until she could barely breath.

I’ll never see her again.

*

I’ll never see her again.

Those were the words that kept rolling through Natsuki’s mind, over and over again.

It was almost funny, in a morbid way. It hadn’t been long since she had first met Yuri, and the two had been at odds for a very long time. In fact, just a few months ago, Natsuki probably wouldn’t have cared all that much about Yuri’s death. It would have been sad, in a vague way, and she might feel some guilt she never got closer to her, but it would have soon faded.

It had only been recently that she had really gotten close to the girl, and now she was gone forever. Befriended just in time for this to effect her.

What a bitch.

The thought had little heat, for these was very little heat within Natsuki at the moment. Her fiery temper was nowhere to be found, the defensiveness she usually fell back on insufficient to deal with this unfamiliar, crushing sensation. The fire she usually reached for to burn through melancholy or self-pity and replace it with anger had been doused, leaving her unable to comprehend these unfamiliar emotions.

She kept her eyes firmly closed as she tightened her grip on Sayori and Monika, unable to stop herself from doing so, unable to stop herself from crying, unable to stop showing her emotions in a way she always tried not to. Showing vulnerability when she had always tried to be strong.

But any time she tried to reach for anger, tried to pull away and insist that she didn’t care, the thought that she’d never see Yuri again, never talk to her, never argue or discuss poems or books…

And the last time she ever saw the girl, she had yelled at her, insulted her and hit her. When all she had been doing was try to help.

Yuri had died thinking she hated her, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. The introvert had been one of a very few people who Natsuki cared about, who she trusted.

And now she was gone. All because she had tried to help them.

Because of her.

This is my fault.

*

This is my fault.

The knowledge of this fact rolled around in Sayori’s head again and again, undeniable, unforgivable.

Stupid, selfish girl.

She wasn’t worth being any of these girl’s friends before, and now she had driven one of them to…

To what she should have done long ago. What lay in the closet in her room flash through her mind.

And yet…

She slowly opened her eyes to look at the other two, clinging to her just as desperately as she was clinging to them. Could she do that to them?

They wouldn’t miss me. They’d be better off without me.

Yet at the same time, she knew that her death would devastate them even more than they already were. She couldn’t do that to them.

Not yet.

So, she closed her eyes and let the sobs come out, burying herself in the arms of her friends.

Yuri hadn’t deserved what happened to her. She must have been suffering far more than Sayori was aware, if she had been driven to this. And yet, she had still tried to help her. Pushed through whatever was keeping her down, pushed through her social awkwardness and introversion, her reluctance to initiate conversation, all to assure Sayori that they all cared about her.

And this was her reward.

Sayori pushed herself into her friends, trying to escape the terrible knowledge, the haunting echos of Yuri’s calm voice. But she couldn’t. Because she could never escape one fact.

Yuri was gone.

And it’s all my fault.

Chapter Text

Monika was rather surprised when her parents gave her the week off from school. Originally, her mother only wanted to give her a single day, but her father managed to convince his wife to give Monika the week.

When she came home late, they were poised to berate her, but the expression on her face dissuaded them. And when she explained the reason she was late, they both tried their best to be sympathetic and comfort their daughter, but neither were particularly emotional people, so Monika simply gave them an empty smile, thanked them, and went to her room to sob into her pillow.

She had thought she had gotten this all out during the club, but it turned out that it was not quite so simple to get over grief of this caliber, and relating what had happened to her parents simply reopened the wound.

After the girls had finally stopped crying on each other, they had gone their separate ways, promising to meet up the next day if they could.

Once she gathered the strength to do so, she pulled out her phone and opened the literature club group chat. The sight of Yuri’s number, accompanied by a picture of the girl with her usual shy smile, almost made her lose control again, but she pushed back the welling sobs with a force of will.

She quickly typed out that she didn’t have to go to school that week, and said she’d be able and willing to meet up the next day.

*

Sayori read over Monika’s text.

I should say I can’t make it. I don’t deserve to talk to them after what I’ve done.

The words rang true in her head, and she almost committed to them. And yet, when she considered it, she recalled something she had once heard.

“You know, the only thing that hurts more than seeing you in pain, is knowing you’re in pain and are trying to hide it.”

She slowly texted back that she could make it too, and that they could meet at her house if they wanted.

When she had returned home, her mother had immediately spotted the red-rimmed eyes and dried tear trails and pulled her daughter into a hug. Sayori promptly broke down once more, and her mother hadn’t asked anything, simply holding her daughter and waiting for when she gathered the strength to speak.

Slowly, through her sobs, she explained that her friend had committed suicide, and her mother had tightened her embrace, softly murmuring comforting words.

Later, when she asked Sayori if she could do anything to help, Sayori simply said that she couldn’t go to school for a while, and that she might be going to meet her other friends. Her mother had immediately agreed and said to tell her if she needed anything else. Sayori had then retreated to her room.

Her father had also come in when he returned for work, softly informing her he was there for her if she wanted before leaving.

Since, she had done very little but lay in bed and cry.

Pathetic, she thought to herself as she put down her phone.

I’m the reason this all happened, and yet here I am, crying miserably all day, as if I deserve to grieve.

She thought about the rope she had stored in her closet, the rope she had spent many hours crying over in the past, pondering if now was the time to use it.

I drove her to suicide. I’m pathetic and miserable, they’d be better off without me.

She knew this was true, but she also knew that they didn’t believe that. If she was gone, what would they do? They were already devastated by Yuri’s… death. If she went too, it would just compound their grief, and one of them might do something stupid.

She shoved her face into her pillow, trying to get rid of the thoughts, but no matter what, they still lurked in the corners of her mind, urging, lambasting.

If only her friends didn’t care about her. If only she could do what was best for them.

But in the end, she was too much of a coward.

*

Natsuki stared at Monika’s text for a moment, considering what to say.

She had come home to the alcohol-sodden house to find her father was once again away, probably drinking or pretending to look for a job. She had immediately went to her room.

She didn’t know how her father would react to this. It probably depended on how drunk he was. But she had sneaked out under his nose before.

She texted back that she could make it.

She then went back to what she was doing before Monika’s text interrupted her. Staring blankly at the ceiling.

She tried to summon her usual anger, that which she usually used to face tragedy or sadness, but just like in the club, she could not. She wanted to scream and rage, wanted something or someone to blame.

Yet whenever she tried to find something to blame, all fingers just pointed back at her. She couldn’t blame Yuri, her conscience wouldn’t allow it. Her friends were grieving just as much as she, and she couldn’t bring herself to direct anger at them. At the universe? That was certainly something she had done before, yet now she found she couldn’t.

It was her fault.

That unfamiliar sensation of guilt that had came over her prior to learning what Yuri had done had increased by an amount that left her unable to do more than stare at the ceiling and wallow.

But eventually, deciding that this wasn’t helping anything, she picked her phone back up and added that she’d be happy to go to Sayori’s house.

*

Many times over the course of that sleepless night did Sayori look at the closet in her room, considering. And yet, each time she did, the memory of a soft voice telling her they cared about her, that they wanted to help her echoed once more.

She wasn’t sure about that last, and even if she believed it, she didn’t want to drag her friends down, but at the very least it was enough to dissuade her from using what lay in that closet.

Now, Natsuki and Monika would be coming over soon. She had to start getting ready, she had to get a hold of herself. She hadn’t even told her parents that she had friends coming over today.

And yet, every time she tried, she couldn’t summon the motivation.

They already know I’m a stupid mess of a human being, why not just lay here until they get here? I’m such a useless waste of their time.

And then, moments later, she would start berating herself for being lazy, but as soon as she considered getting up, the lack of motivation would hit once more. It was a vicious cycle.

And so, that’s how she spent her time, alternatively hating herself for not getting up and hating herself too much to get up, up until a soft knock at the door interrupted her. Her mother’s voice gently informed her that her club president was waiting downstairs, and if Sayori wanted she would tell the girl to go away.

It took more effort than expected to raise her voice loud enough to respond, but she eventually did, saying, “No, it’s fine, Mom. I’ll be down in a minute.”

She heard footsteps retreating down the stairs.

Okay, Monika’s here. I have to get up now.

Her limbs didn’t move.

What’s the point? I should have just told Mom to tell her I’m too sick to talk or something. She’d be better off just talking to Natsuki and leaving me out of it. I don’t deserve their friendship.

Lead weights were tied to her arms and legs, and no matter how much she instructed them to get up, no matter how she tried to trick herself, it just wasn’t worth it.

“...but I know that even just the knowledge that you allowed me to try, that you might be just a small bit happier for my efforts… It would be worth anything. We all feel that way.”

Tears came to her eyes. Why was she so useless? Why did she sit here and do nothing, when any normal person would just get up and start recovering? Why couldn’t she…

Why couldn’t she just accept help?

She told herself it was because she would drag her friends down, but in her heart she knew they wanted to help her, knew that they would be happier for it. The scene that played through her head again and again, of the last time she saw Yuri, ensured she knew that. That sincerity wasn’t faked. Despite the pain reliving it caused, it had also forced to truly think about what Yuri had said, really consider it for the first time.

“You know, the only thing that hurts more than seeing you in pain, is knowing you’re in pain and are trying to hide it.”

They knew she was hurting because they were hurting, and if she pushed them away, it would only hurt them more. And the last thing she ever wanted to do was hurt her friends.

Ever so slowly, she pushed herself out of her bed and onto her feet. She looked down at her wrinkled clothes, the same uniform she had worn when she returned home the day before. She knew her hair must have been even more of a mess than usual, and there were likely dark bags under her eyes.

She didn’t really care.

She pushed open the door and walked down the stairs. She could hear the voices of both Monika and her mother in the kitchen, so she made her way there. She hesitated just around the corner for a moment, taking a deep breath to prepare herself. She entered.

Her mother had seemingly been getting to know Monika, having heard about the club president from Sayori, but never having actually met the girl, but the conversation paused as Sayori awkwardly shuffled in and waved at Monika, who was wearing a white blouse and jeans.

Both the president and her mother looked concerned at her appearance, but Monika quickly walked forward and embraced her second-in-command. Sayori clung to the taller girl and choked back another sob. Just as it did back in the club, the warmth of another human being helped to focus her a bit, detract from the ever-present weariness and lack of motivation that always seemed to be trying to suck the energy from her soul.

But it ended far too soon for her liking, though she didn’t say so, merely giving a small, melancholy smile to attempt to convey her gratitude that the president was here.

Monika returned the smile as best she could, and Sayori took this moment to check up on the president. While her posture was as perfect as ever, her clothes unruffled and hair meticulously cared for, there were many signs that the president wasn’t as okay as she wanted people to think. Like Sayori, there were bags under her eyes, speaking of a night of restlessness, and her appearance was imperfect in a way that would be unnoticeable on anyone but the usually perfectly put together president. The biggest indication of her internal conflict, however, was her smile. It was small, unsure, forced. Nothing at all like her usual unshakable confidence or occasional mischievous smirk.

Sayori’s mother spoke up, causing the two to look over at her.

“Why don’t you two go sit down in the living room and chat? I’ll make something for you two and… Natsuki?” Sayori nodded, “and Natsuki to eat once she gets here, alright?”

Sayori just nodded again, guessing Monika had informed her mother that the last member of the club was going to be joining them as well. Monika put on the best smile she could and thanked the woman before the two girls retreated to the living room, a room painted sky-blue and brightly lit by the large, open windows. Front and center, there was a large couch, an armchair beside it, facing a TV on the wall.

Sayori immediately sat on the couch, and Monika took the spot beside her. The couch was large enough that Natsuki could choose between sitting next to Monika on the couch or taking the armchair for herself, a freedom she’d probably appreciate.

For a small while, they tried to make small talk. It was an awkward affair, Monika unused to it and Sayori struggling with her own demons while trying to do so. It didn’t help that most of what they would usually talk about, the club, books, their friends, were mostly avoided, for all of them were difficult to go in depth into without bringing up the forever absent fourth member of the club.

So, they fell silent, simply waiting for Natsuki to arrive, Sayori silently sinking back into her mind. Sayori’s mother brought in a few sandwiches after a while, then told them she was going out, and that if they needed anything, to call her. Sayori knew she was giving them privacy, and she appreciated it.

Monika ate one sandwich while Sayori slowly nibbled at another. They left the others for Natsuki, knowing that with her appetite she’d eat them all quickly.

When a knock finally came at the door, the president got up to answer it, leaving the room for a moment, then returning with Natsuki in tow. The small girl was wearing a short-sleeved white shirt with a small pink cat emblazoned on her left shoulder, as well as a frilly pink skirt. Like the other two, there were dark circles under her eyes, and the usual challenging smirk or angry frown that were her default expressions were nowhere to be found, replaced by an exhausted look that seemed to go beyond simple lack of sleep. Sayori could empathize.

With a tired greeting to the vice-president, the baker picked up the remaining sandwiches and plopped down on the armchair, quickly devouring the food. Monika returned to her spot on the couch and waited for Natsuki to finish before speaking. She didn’t have long to wait.

The president cleared her throat, drawing the attention of the other two, Sayori having to force herself to focus on the words Monika was saying, and not her own thoughts.

“So, Natsuki, you said that there was something you wanted to… discuss with us?”

The short girl uncharacteristically adverted her eyes and sighed before saying, “I… I don’t really think now’s the time. It’s some pretty heavy shit, so we should wait until later.”

Monika shook her head, her expression completely focused on the pink-haired girl.

“No, I think we should talk about it now. Especially if it’s something important. Not talking about things is how…” the president paused, her expression turning pained before her emerald gaze fell to the floor. “Look, I just… I can’t let this happen again.”

Her voice was strained, full of guilt that Sayori felt was intimately familiar, and her heart ached for the girl. She guessed that, as the president, she must have been under a lot of strain, and the knowledge she had just been wallowing in her own guilt and sorrow while Monika was suffering just made her hate herself just that little bit more.

Monika looked up again, emerald meeting pink.

“We’re more than just a club, we’re friends. If I had to guess, probably the best friends any of us have. We should be able to trust each other, confide in each other. We’ve seen what happens when we don’t. We just want to help you, Natsuki.”

Sayori felt a stab of fear, for she knew that Monika would turn that determination upon her soon. But at the same time, her words only drove in harder what Yuri had tried to convey to her, that these people cared about her and would help her no matter what, that they wanted to do so.

She looked back up to see Natsuki’s gaze had gone from Monika to her, seemingly still unsure. Sayori gave her best attempt at a comforting smile and nodded at the girl. Monika had spoken for her too. Whatever Natsuki had to talk about, Sayori was determined to help the baker, just as much as the club had helped her. She wouldn’t let what had happened happen again.

She took a deep breath and focused on Natsuki, whose eyes were closed.

She kept them closed as she began speaking, in a quiet, vulnerable voice that was completely unlike the baker, “My father is… Ever since my mom left, about seven years ago, he’s been drinking a lot. In fact, he’s pretty much constantly drunk, and he spends all our money on it.”

Sayori really didn’t like where this was going, and she felt tears welling up as Natsuki paused and took a deep breath.

“And when he’s drunk, he gets… angry. Irrational. He yells at me a lot, insults me. And sometimes he… he hits me.”

Sayori felt yet more tears trailing down her cheeks, and she heard Monika gasp as the president held a hand over her mouth.

She’s been being… a-abused? And she’s been so strong, while I have nothing wrong in my life and still just-

With an effort of will, she pulled herself out of her spiral and looked at Natsuki.

The small girl angrily wiped her eyes, this being the first time Sayori had seen the emotion from her since that initial outburst at Monika when she’d delivered the news. She heard the girl mutter something about being tired of all the damn crying all the time.

Sayori tried to think of what to say in response, what she could say to comfort or assure the girl, but she could think of nothing. As much as she tried to know what to say to people and could usually comfort them, this was something far more serious than she’d ever had to deal with, and she knew far too little about the topic. So, she did the only thing she could think of.

She slowly got up and walked over to Natsuki. She paused a moment as the girl looked up at her, seeming so small, so fragile.

“I-is it alright if I hug you?”

Natsuki hesitantly nodded, so Sayori knelt beside the armchair and wrapped her in a gentle embrace, which the baker returned. Slowly, the tears that had drifted down Natsuki’s cheeks turned into louder cries, and then sobs as she tightened her hold on the vice-president.

In that hug, Sayori could feel years of loneliness and oppression, fear and anger, all trying to escape to the air around the warm embrace. Not all of it could, of course. Such things would last Natsuki a lifetime, and it would take much more than a single hug to truly begin her healing. But it was a start. So Sayori let the smaller girl cling to her, almost like she herself had clung to Monika earlier, how they had all desperately sought comfort in each other when the news of Yuri’s death came.

A few moments later, Monika tentatively asked if she could join, and the two made room for her. And for just a moment, Sayori could forget the ever-present thoughts that dragged her down, all the tragedy and hopelessness, and just feel companionship and love.

But, of course, that wasn’t to last. As soon as they separated, and she and Monika went back to the couch, her fears, doubts, and thoughts returned.

She looked at Natsuki, who was once again wiping her eyes, and said, “Thank you so much for telling us about this. If there’s anything I can do, just tell me. Doesn’t matter what, if you need help, if you want to talk, or even just complain, I’m here for you.”

The small girl looked up with a small, yet genuine smile and nodded at the vice-president.

Monika spoke up as well, “The same goes for me, of course.”

The three all sat for a while, looking at each other and trying their best to smile. None of them were very convincing, but they all declined to mention it. The fact they were trying was more than enough.

The first to break the silence was Monika, who turned to Natsuki with a concerned expression and said, “So, do you think you could stay with Sayori or me tonight? My parents would usually never allow it, but with the circumstances they’d probably allow it even not knowing what you’re going through.”

Natsuki frowned at the president. Sayori mentally slapped a hand to her forehead. She loved Monika, the girl was a magnificent president and she tried her best. But she really wasn’t the best with people sometimes.

“Why would I stay at one of your places?” Natsuki said, some of her old defensiveness appearing in her expression.

Monika looked down awkwardly, “W-well, I can’t let you go back to your home, knowing what happens there…”

The baker folded her arms and gave M onika an insult glare .

“Monika, with all due respect, I’m not just going to crash at one of you guys’ places. I’ve slept at my home every day for years, I think I can survive it. I’m not gonna just abandon my dad, either.”

Monika stood up, desperation in her emerald eyes, “Why not? You’re eighteen, right? He can’t keep you there.”

Sayori kept her eyes firmly glued to the floor and tried to think of how to fix this. She understood both their points, Monika obviously wanted to keep her clubmates safe, but Natsuki could make her own decisions, and the other girls knowing what she’d gone through didn’t really change anything about the situation itself.

As much as it pained her to know what Natsuki was going home to, and as much as she wanted to just lock the girl in a room to stop her from going back, she also knew the girl had been going through this for a long time, and just telling them about it was a big step.

“Exactly, I’m eighteen, which means I can choose for myself, and I’m staying where I am for now.”

“Natsuki, what he’s doing isn’t okay! He can’t-”

The baker finally stepped up as well, doing her best to look down on Monika despite the height difference, “I’m well aware the guy is a fucking bastard, okay? I don’t have Stockholm Syndrome or whatever.”

“Then-”

Sayori finally stood up as well, interrupting the president, “Guys, let’s talk about this later, okay? We’re all emotional and not really in the right mind for arguing something like this.”

Natsuki huffed and sat down. Monika reluctantly followed suit, still throwing concerned glances at the baker.

Sayori just sighed. They were all already in pain and were emotional, they really didn’t need to add an argument to add to the stress they were under.

They sat in silence once more, but unlike the previous one, this one felt stifling and uncomfortable.

Monika, once again, broke it first, turning this time to Sayori, meeting her blue eyes with her emerald, “Sayori, is there anything you want to talk about? Any problems or anything, even if they’re pretty obvious, considering what happened? I want to make sure everything’s out there.”

Sayori opened her mouth, and her default response almost came out, ‘I’m fine.’

But…

“You know, the only thing that hurts more than seeing you in pain, is knowing you’re in pain and are trying to hide it.”

They only knew she was hurting, if only because of what Yuri had done, but there was more, so much more. And the sincerity in Monika’s eyes, in Natsuki when she looked over at him, that Yuri had before she was gone…

They truly wanted to help, that she couldn’t deny.

No, stop trying to rationalize your selfishness! You just want them to help you, even if you’re being a stupid burden.

Tears fell down her face as she struggled with herself. Both the other girls looked on with concern.

Sayori looked up at them. She remembered what had happened to Yuri, her promise that she wouldn’t let such a thing happen in the literature club again.

And she knew to do that, she had to tell them.

“I have depression. I’ve struggled with it all my life.”

She focused on the ground, not able to meet their gazes.

It was so very easy to just say it. Just two sentences. And yet she could never take it back. As much as everything had changed, this was just one more way in which nothing would ever be the same, now that they knew.

Now they’ll have to worry about me all the time, and whenever I’m sad for no reason they’ll try to help me instead of just doing their own things. I shouldn’t-

Warm.

Once more, she found herself wrapped in an embrace. She heard Natsuki mutter something about everyone being so touchy-feelly lately, but she still walked over and joined them.

Speaking over Sayori’s shoulder, Monika said, “I’m so sorry. Thank you for trusting us. If you ever need help, please tell me, okay? I’d be willing to help with anything, whenever.”

Sayori’s mind was jammed full of conflicting emotions. There was warmth, gratitude, happiness. To finally tell someone, to get this off her chest, it was an amazing feeling. Yet, at the same time, now she knew she would drag them down, now they’d worry and fret about someone as unimportant as her.

She closed her eyes.

Why can’t I just enjoy this?

*

Three girls with broken masks sat together, in a room full of warmth and love, tension and grief.

One after another, they confessed their reasons for needing such all-consuming masks, ending with their leader.

For the rest of that day, those three girls with broken masks did their best to comfort each other, provide some normalcy. They each ignored the forced quality of the others’ smiles, the awkwardness in their conversation, the deep, emotional exhaustion that was obvious in all of them.

And despite all of it, they had confessed their issues to each other, and, despite all of it, they all felt a companionship and love they had all rarely experienced. The fragile smiles of the others helped to bolster their own, and then the favor was returned.

It wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot. They were still broken, still maskless. But slowly, they were building new ones, for all people wear masks.

Yet these new masks hid less, were more genuine. In the end, perhaps that was all they could ask for.

Chapter Text

Yuri’s funeral was to take place on Wednesday, six days after her death, two days after the discovery of her body. Today. The ceremony was to be closed casket, for obvious reasons.

The literature club had been informed of this a few hours after their meeting had ended the day before. None of them knew why the funeral had been rushed so much, but none of them cared all that much either.

Natsuki was pacing nervously, knowing that she would need to get going soon. She glanced at the clock nervously. The funeral would be in an hour, and it would take her about forty-five minutes to get there. She should leave now.

She opened the rickety old door of her room and started cautiously making her way down the stairs, but her mind was elsewhere.

Far too much was happening at once for her liking. Just after they’d realized that Yuri was… gone, they’d had that meeting and she’d admitted that she was being abused. She had many mixed emotions about that. Monika was being a bitch and trying to control her, which she very much didn’t appreciate. But Sayori had taken it extremely well, and honestly it felt like a weigh had been lifted from her.

All these years of suffering alone, of never being sure when Papa would be drunk and decide to start berating her for being useless or for forgetting to do something, and never feeling like she could tell anyone, or she’d be punished, seen as weak, cast out, but now she had people she could confide in. People who would listen and be sympathetic. It almost brought a tear to her eye now, and it certainly had then.

But her thoughts were cut short when she stumbled on the last step down, too distracted to remember the unevenness of the stairs. She hit the floor with a loud thud, making her cry out.

And she was then given a reminder that no matter what she told her friends, she still had plenty to worry about.

“Natsuki!” she heard her father bellow from somewhere in the house.

She froze in fear. From the sound of it, he was drunk, and that was never a good thing for her, especially when she had just drawn his attention, and therefore his ire.

When the fuck did he even get home?

She scrambled to her feet, not sure whether she was intending to flee, face him, or any other of a number of options, but her choices suddenly became very limited when her father stormed into the hallway and roughly grabbed her arm, causing her to cry out again.

He glared down at her with hateful pink irises, the scent of beer heavy on his breath, almost making her choke.

“Where the ‘ell you goin’?” he slurred at her.

She winced as he tightened his grip, and quickly stammered out, “I-I’m just going to meet some friends, Papa! That’s all!”

He squinted at her with his far too observant eyes before swinging around to look at a clock in the hall. He twisted her arm as he turned back to her with a sadistically amused grin.

“Yer goin’ to that fuckin funeral, aren’t ya?”

Natsuki’s eyes widened in fear. Being caught in a lie was something he would surely see fit to “punish” her for.

How did he even know about that?

“H-how-”

“How’d I know?” he finished with a chuckle that was a bit too much for his inebriated lack of balance, forcing him to lean heavily on her. She stumbled and tried not to fall with him on top of her.

He sneered at her before continuing, “Yer school called ‘bout it, said somethin about students needin support or some shit. Told us ‘bout the time for the funeral too. Normally I wouldn’t give a shit, but I remembered you sayin that name, and I realized she was in that club of yers.”

She closed her eyes, remembering that she had told him the clubmember’s names when he was sober at some point. Fucking stupid. One thing she knew about her papa was that, for everything else he was, the man was smart, and had a good memory. He could put things together from the smallest clues, and that had come back to bite her more times than she could count.

She should’ve known he’d use them against her at some point.

He jerked her arm again, forcing her to look into his darkly amused eyes as he loomed over her, “Guess she got tired of dealin with yer shit, eh?”

The words stung far worse than the pain in her arm, as she knew he was right. She heard him laughing heartily, and tear stung at the corners of her eyes, but she forced them back. She couldn’t cry in front of him. His large form towered over her, the strong grip on her arm preventing her from running, not that she would be able to. She was frozen in fear, just like she always was.

“Really, I don’t fuckin care why the bitch did it. But yer not goin’ to go to some sobshow for a coward who couldn’t face her own damn problems and offed herself, you hear me? If she wanted attention, she fuckin got it, but I won’t have you supportin’ it.”

At that, Natsuki could feel that familiar anger, that familiar temper returning as it hadn’t in far too long. She wouldn’t let anyone talk about her friend like that when she had suffered so much! This fucking hypocrite turned to drinking because he couldn’t handle his emotions, so where did he get the right to lay blame on someone who had never hurt a soul but herself?

So, she did something she had considered many, many times, but had never managed to build the courage to do. While her fear was still there, her anger burned through it, and she lifted her skinny arm to punch her father in the face as hard as she could.

Her lack of strength was made up for by the sheer desperation and anger behind the blow, as well as his inebriated state and the sheer surprise of her hitting back. He let go of her arm and stumbled back, clutching his eye and tripping over himself, landing flat on his back with a groan.

At this, she once again froze, as she had the last time she had struck someone. The last time, it was out of guilt. Now, it was fear.

If he had punished her for such minor things as accidentally waking him up in the morning, what would he do now? He might actually fucking kill her.

She was still frozen as he slowly started pushing himself up.

I have to get out of here.

She had to get to the funeral. She couldn’t miss it, no matter what. She couldn’t miss this final chance to say goodbye. So she dashed past him, dodging the hand he reached out to grasp her with, and made it to the door, quickly unlocking it and opening it.

A yell stopped her.

“If you go out that fucking door, you won’t be coming back! I’m tired of dealing with your shit, and you’ve disrespected me too many damn times! If you leave and I catch you coming back, I’ll beat you so bad you’ll wish I went as easy as I usually do, and kick you out in the street! We’ll see how damn lucky you are when you’re living in a cardboard box!”

She froze halfway out the door.

He… he would make her leave? But… but they were all they had. They were family. She couldn’t leave him like this.

But she’d never forgive herself for missing this last chance.

She looked back to her father, on his knees, glaring at her furiously. If she stayed, he’d beat her for sure, probably keep her in here for the rest of the week at the very least.

But he was her father, and he was right, without him she’d have nowhere to go.

Or…

That used to be the case. She knew Sayori or Monika would take her in for as long as they had to, though it seemed Monika’s parents might be keen to keep that arrangement very temporary.

But could she really abandon him? He was all she had for so long, and when he was sober he wasn’t a horrible person. Her leaving would crush him.

But Monika’s worried face crossed through her mind, Sayori’s gentle concern. And…

“Every day when you go home, I’m always worried about what might be happening.”

And she was hurting the people who really cared about her every time she came back here.

She looked at her father, for once as who he was and not as the fearsome, unconquerable demon she had built him up to be, nor the caring father who she pretended was someone else entirely. Instead, she saw a man who had suffered, and couldn’t handle it, so turned to drink. To taking his anger out on his daughter, promising he’d stop over and over and then going right back to it the day after. A pathetic man, who even as he glared at her was swaying because of the drink he had imbibed.

She took a deep breath.

“Goodbye, Papa.”

The last she saw of him was his eyes widen in something that looked like fear, just before she slammed the door and ran, tears streaming down her face as she left that crumbling old house, the beer bottles and stench of alcohol, the peeling pink wallpaper, the constant fear, and the one who, despite everything, she still loved as her father.

*

Sayori’s mother kissed her cheek before pulling back, holding her daughter’s shoulders and staring into her eyes.

“Now, you’re sure you don’t want me to come? You know I will. And your father could easily call off work for the day and join us as well.”

The vice-president shook her head silently. Her mother sighed and accepted this, silently letting go and adjusting her scarf, ready to start out to her own work.

“You know that if you want me to, I can call off and pick you up, alright?”

She just nodded again, not trusting her voice at the moment. Her mother smiled at her, a smaller one than her usual wide grin, but no less genuine for the sadness she could see there.

As they walked out the door, her mother pulled her into a hug.

“Good luck. I love you.”

*

Monika faced her parents with a strained smile, which for once they seemed to mirroring, both obviously uncomfortable with dealing with their daughter’s emotions.

“I’m going now, if that’s alright.”

Her mother seemed to be stuck between her usual stern expression and a softer, more caring look that obviously didn’t come naturally to her as she responded, “Very well. Be back when you can. We called you off school today, as well as canceling your other appointments.”

At this, the woman couldn’t hold back a small frown, but she soon hid it.

Monika simply nodded and turned to walk out, but her father stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. She stopped and looked over at him in surprise, as neither of her parents were usually ones for touching of any kind.

He smiled at her, the expression more natural on his face than his wife’s, though still obviously unfamiliar to him.

“I just wanted you to know that, even if I know we aren’t the best at showing it, we do care about you, and we do feel for your loss. If you need anything, you can tell us and we’ll do our best to provide it.”

She tried to smile back, but realized her expression looked more like a grimace.

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

Maybe you do care about me, but I now I have people who I can trust more than either of you, and would go to them long before I considered asking you for anything.

He let go and she walked off, not sure if she wanted to sprint as fast as she could or drag her feet, and in the end managed to go at a normal pace.

Time to say goodbye.

Chapter Text

Monika watched the coffin being slowly lowered into the six foot deep hole in the ground. She had thought that perhaps she had cried all the tears she could over the last few days, but that theory didn’t last long in the face of seeing that box being lowered, knowing that within it was the sweet, shy girl who they would never see again.

The literature club would never be whole again.

She dragged her gaze away from the box to look at her clubmates. Natsuki looked like she was going to throw up, and was clutching her arm for some reason. Did she hurt it?

Or… did her father do something?

Beside her, Sayori looked like she was about to collapse, hugging herself tightly.

Other than the men who were performing the burial, who were silent and respectful, but obviously not grieving, and the three girls, the only person who showed up was a middle-aged woman with short purple hair and blue eyes.

There was sorrow in her expression, but it was a vague sort, of the kind one m ight expect when knowledge of the death of an acquaintance or news of a far-away tragedy is imparted. She had informed them that she was Yuri’s aunt.

Monika had wondered, when she first arrived, where Yuri’s parents were. A moment of irrational anger had washed over her. How dare they not come to their own daughter’s funeral?

But then, when they had made their way to the cemetery, she had a realization.

Yuri was to be buried next to her parents. Their stones showed that they had gone eight years prior.

Monika, having exhausted her means of distracting herself, turned back to the simple wooden box that contained what was once a person. A girl with hopes and dreams, a girl who suffered and cared and loved. All of it was being lowered into the ground alongside what remained of her body.

She would leave behind nothing but a few unfinished novels that would never be read, many notebooks full of poems that would never see the light of day, three notes, and memories in the hearts and minds of three young girls.

Monika had known her friend was dead, had grieved and cried, but seeing the hole now being refilled with dirt, covering the box, she felt a sense of finality. The claws around her heart seized, and she struggled not to drop to the ground and wail pitifully.

She tried to say goodbye, tried to do something to ease the ache, that unbearable pain, yet there was nothing. She couldn’t say it. Not yet.

Natsuki rushed off, and Monika could hear the sounds of dry heaving in the distance.

After the ceremony was complete, and Natsuki had returned, Yuri’s aunt walked over to them with a stern expression.

Monika faced her and tried for a polite smile, but found she could not even muster the weak, strained version of a smile that had become her staple over the last few days. Sayori just stared at the ground, and Natsuki crossed her arms and and stared at the woman.

The woman looked at them for a moment, before reaching into her bag and pulling out three envelopes and holding them out to Monika, who took them and scanned them, not being able to bring herself to feel much curiosity.

But her eyes widened and the claws dug even tighter when she saw, in familiar, elegant handwriting; Monika, Natsuki, Sayori.

She actually clutched her chest for a moment, silently handing the respective notes to the other two. Natsuki took it and then looked as if she might be sick again. Sayori fell to her knees, staring blankly at her name in her friend’s writing.

Monika, worry for the girl managing to win out over the urge to do the same, walked over and put a hand on her shoulder as she sobbed.

As her president, as well as her friend, Monika was very concerned about Sayori. It was bad enough that all this had happened, but pile on her depression and she couldn’t imagine what the smaller girl was going through. She had seriously considered telling Sayori’s parents, or just pushing Sayori to getting professional help, but that was for another time. Now, all she could do is try to comfort the girl.

The forgotten aunt spoke up once more, “I know it hurts, but you all still have each other. You’ll get over it eventually.”

Sayori started shaking more and Monika found herself glaring at the woman. Natsuki likely would have tried to punch her if she w as able to stand .

“Thank you,” Monika said coldly. “You can go now.”

The woman raised an eyebrow before nodding and walking off.

*

Natsuki reluctantly asked Sayori to talk to her for a moment, and they paused a short distance down the road from the cemetery, neither wanting to hang around the place for too long.

The baker shuffled her feet a bit as Sayori watched with red-rimmed, expectant eyes.

She really didn’t want to pressure her friend into this, especially knowing what she did now, but she knew she needed a place to live.

She could still hardly believe that the cheery girl was struggling with depression. But, the more she thought about it, the more it made a horrid kind of sense. She hadn’t known how to talk to the vice-president since, simultaneously wanting to treat her like glass, but knowing that would make it worse.

And now she needed to ask her if she could live at her house.

Goddamn it.

“So, S-Sayori, I uh…” she closed her eyes. “I need a place to stay, since I had a big fight with my dad, and I’m finally leaving, so I was wondering if I could, uh-”

“Of course you can!” Sayori interrupted.

When she looked up, Natsuki was surprised to see a small smile that seemed almost genuine on the girl’s face.

“I’m so glad you got out of there. My parents won’t mind, especially if we explain the whole situation to them. You don’t have to though, they’d just say yes anyway. Probably.”

Natsuki smiled exhaustedly at the girl. That was easier than expected.

As they walked back to Sayori’s house together, the small girl could feel the envelope in her pocket weighing her down as if it were made of lead.

*

Natsuki stared at her phone, which was currently ringing. The tone was a familiar one to her, and she was debating whether or not to answer.

On one hand, she really didn’t want to talk to the bastard. On the other, this might be the last chance she’d ever have.

They had ended up explaining everything to Sayori’s parents, and they were more than willing to put the small girl up. They had also offered to call the police or something similar, but Natsuki assured them it wasn’t necessary, as she was out of there anyway.

And he was still her father, so she didn’t want to see him dragged away.

She ever so slowly accepted the call and brought it to her ear. He should be sober by now, so hopefully this wouldn’t just be a screaming rant.

The exhausted sigh and quiet greeting of, “Hello, Natsuki,” informed her that she was correct.

“Hey dad,” she said after a moment.

He took a deep breath before saying, “Look, I was drunk and didn’t mean what I said. You can come home. I had no right to try to stop you from going, especially considering she was apparently your friend.”

She bit her lip. He sounded genuine and remorseful, but then again, he always did. And…

She didn’t want to go back.

Sayori’s parents were such kind people, they already treated her like their daughter, as if they had known her for much longer than the few hours which were their only real experience with her. And Sayori…

Sayori needed her.

“I’m not coming back,” she said, a sharp exhale coming from over the phone, “I’m going to be living at a friend’s house for a while, at least until I can get a job and get my own place. I’m done with your shit. You can’t stop me, I’m eighteen and can make my own decisions.”

She waited in silence for a long moment that her nerves stretched out even further. She was really doing this. She was really leaving.

Instead of the expected ranting or screams, there was simply a sigh over the line before her father said, “That’s probably for the best. I’m a drunken mess, and you deserve so much better. I… I’m sorry. You can come and get your clothes if you want, or send someone to get them.”

His broken tone made her heart squeeze, but she also felt unexpected relief. She wouldn’t have to fight him. She wouldn’t have to worry about him coming after her or some shit. She could just live. Without him.

“I can get new clothes. You can just throw out all my shit, I’m not attached to any of it.”

T he only possessions she really cared about were tucked safely in the closet of the clubroom.

“O-okay.”

Silence.

How does one say goodbye to a parent? A parent who beat them, abused them, made them feel small? Who was remorseful, turned to drink because they couldn’t handle the grief and self-hatred from their wife abandoning them, who was, despite everything, still their father? How does one convey the overwhelming relief that they’d never see the other again, and the aching pain knowing that they’d never regain what was lost?

In the end, Natsuki didn’t know.

She tried to convey it all into one word.

“Goodbye.”

He understood.

“Goodbye. I love you.”

She hung up.

Tears were streaming down her face as she laughed.

I hate you. And I still love you.

Chapter Text

Dear Monika,

As the president walked into her room, she pulled from her pocket the envelope Yuri’s aunt had given her.

I a m unsure why I am bothering to write this, if I am being quite honest. I know it would be much better if you all simply forgot about me, as unlikely as that may be . Perhaps it is simply one last act of selfishness.

She sat on her large, plush bed and held it in her lap, simply staring at the envelope, at the familiar writing, debating on whether or not she should open it.

In the interests of brevity, I will not bother with my reasons for doing what I am about to do, for I feel that between the poem I left you all, as well as some small deduction, it should be quite obvious.

On the one hand, if she didn’t read it and simply discarded it, she knew she’d always wonder what Yuri had to say, and would never forgive herself for not looking.

In the same vein, I will not take up what would likely be countless paragraphs trying to explain the many things wrong with me, my psyche, my interests, and honestly every aspect of my being.

On the other hand, she wasn’t sure if she could take whatever was written inside, having already gone through far too much grief and heartache recently.

I suppose I shall begin with what I wish to say to you most, as that would be the most logical place.

Perhaps she should simply read it later, in a few weeks perhaps?

I would like to thank you, Monika, for creating the literature club.

And yet she knew that if she didn’t open this letter tonight, she might never gather the courage to do so.

It is because of the literature club that these last few months of my life have been quite possibly the happiest I have ever experienced. I believe I’ve smiled more since I’ve joined the literature club than I had throughout my entire life to that point.

Monika opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.

*

Most of my life before the literature club was spent in isolation, with nothing to occupy my thoughts but anxiety, guilt, and frequent imaginings that I was quite literally anyone else.

Natsuki heavily sat in a chair in the guest room Sayori’s family had provided her.

Those imaginings resulted in a few novels, by the way. None made it past a few chapters, for I quickly lost the motivation to continue them. Which is likely for the best, they weren’t all that good anyway.

Trying to get her mind off her conversation with her father, she tried focusing on anything else.

But I get off track. That was my life before the literature club. But after I joined, I had friends, people who cared about me, enjoyed my writing, who supported me and tried to lift me up.

Unfortunately, the first thing she could think of was the letter still in her pocket.

It was a novelty to me, but an extremely welcome one. You all provided me the friendship I had so desperately craved for so long, and you gave it freely, expecting nothing but my own friendship in return.

She slowly, reluctantly retrieved it, staring at her name in pristine handwriting upon equally pristine white paper.

Even not knowing all of my issues, you helped me become so much more than I was. I found ignoring my anxiety much easier, I had panic attacks far less often, and for once I actually felt as if I was worth something, all because you all believed so as well.

An inexplicable urge to simply tear it up and shove all the pieces into a trashcan came over her, but she resisted it.

You supported my writing, praised it and pushed me to continue. You enjoyed my tea, you discussed various books with me, you picked me up if I was feeling down and corrected me if I was too self-deprecating.

As sick as it made her to even think about what had happened, let alone read something so directly related, she knew she had to read this.

For all of this, and so much more that I do not have the vocabulary nor time to express, I can never thank you enough.

For her own peace of mind, if nothing else.

I would also like to assure you that what I have done is not your fault. The fiasco that has taken place over the last few days is entirely a result of my own incompetence and lack of tact.

She opened the envelope.

It simply reminded me of something which I’m sure I’ve always been vaguely aware of, but had always repressed, for I was far too busy selfishly enjoying bathing in the light of your friendship and care.

*

Sayori sat on the floor of her room, hugging Mr. Cow tightly.

I am a disgusting, horrible human being. I use you all to make myself feel like a person, rather than the ghost I always felt myself to be before, to assure myself that I am worth something, that someone does care and I am no longer alone.

She stared at her closet, at the rope within, vaguely knowing she really shouldn’t be alone at the moment.

This realization would have happened eventually, no matter what you did. You could have done nothing to prevent it, and indeed, it is largely due to your efforts that my last few months have been the best I’ve ever had.

But she had to be alone to read what lay within the envelope in front of her.

Quite honestly, this is inevitable, but if I ever had to go, I do believe now is the perfect time. I have been very happy for a very long time, I have been supported and loved, I have felt that which I never before believed I would. Now I will leave with those memories in mind, and with a smile to know that, though I’m sure you are sorrowful now, your life will inevitably improve because I am gone.

She squeezed the plush in her arms tighter, mind already swirling with dread at what she might find within that letter.

I am sorry for all the pain I have caused you. In the past, through my constant bumbling and stammering, your having to put up with me and try to fix something that was long ago broken beyond repair. Just recently, in my incompetent flailing in trying to help you. And now, through what I am about to do.

Perhaps she should deprive herself of the satisfaction of reading? After all, she knew why Yuri had done what she did. She didn’t need or deserve to read this letter.

I assure you, this last is for the best.

But eventually, she managed to convince herself to open it. She did so, holding it in front of her with the stuffed animal still in her arms.

*

Thank you for reading these ramblings, I’m honestly somewhat lightheaded at the moment, so I’m sure this writing is moderately incoherent and not in the least up to my usual standards. Nevertheless, I feel as if I need to write you something, if only to make sure you receive the gratitude I was never able to convey to you personally.

My everlasting thanks and apologies.

With love, Yuri.

Chapter Text

Their next meetup was once again in Sayori’s house, which was logical enough considering two of the three were already living there.

Monika had been greatly relieved when she heard the news. Natsuki was finally out of that horrible situation, and would finally be living in the loving home the poor girl deserved.

Now, as she made her way to Sayori’s house, she had an agenda in mind for this meeting, one she helped would prevent this from ever happening again. If nothing else, one thing Yuri’s letter had impressed upon her was they were not adequate help for someone suffering from a mental illness.

So, after Sayori’s mother let her in and they all had gathered in Natsuki’s bedroom, Sayori insisting hers was far too messy, Monika addressed her second-in-command.

“So, Sayori, I have a question.”

Said girl nodded somewhat apprehensively at the president.

“Do your parents know about your depression?”

Sayori froze for a moment, her eyes wide, before she slumped and avoided Monika’s gaze. That was all the answer she needed.

Natsuki silently looked on as Monika continued, “I think you should tell them. They deserve to know, and maybe they can help you.”

Sayori slumped further, not responding.

“More than that, I think you should get professional help for this.”

Sayori looked up, horrified.

“M-Monika, I can’t do that!”

The president patiently said, “Why?”

Sayori’s eyes darted around as she looked for an excuse that the other two would accept.

Eventually she came up with, “ I don’t need professional help, right? I-I have you guys!”

Monika shook her head, “I’m guessing you read the letter Yuri wrote, right? If it was anything like mine, you’ll know that we aren’t enough. We weren’t enough for her, and we won’t be enough for you. We’ll help you however we can, but we aren’t experts. And besides, that isn’t the real reason you don’t want professional help, or to tell your parents, is it?”

Water splashed down from Sayori’s eyes, which still couldn’t meet Monika’s.

“I don’t deserve help,” came the quiet reply.

Once again, Monika seized the smaller girl in an embrace.

“Yes, you do. You’ve helped us all so much. You’re kind, and selfless to a fault, and I know that your mind tells you otherwise, but that’s exactly why you need professional help. I…”

She tightened the hug.

“I can’t let what happened to Yuri happen again. And I’m scared that if you don’t get help, it will. I care about you, Sayori, and I don’t know what I would do if you… you were gone. I don’t think I could stand it. So please,” her voice cracked, her tone desperate, “please get help.”

Natsuki finally spoke up, joining Monika in holding the vice-president, “Same goes for me, dummy. I’m… I’m really worried about you, ya know? And I don’t know how to help, and a doctor or therapist or whatever would, and if nothing else, it’d made us feel much better. And I have a feeling it’d help you too.”

Then the room was silent, for a long time, all the members thinking, hoping.

“I’ll do it,” Sayori said quietly.

*

Sayori’s parents were equally horrified and saddened by the news. They hugged Sayori immediately and promised that whatever she needed, they’d provide. When she said she wanted to go to a therapist, they were thrilled.

Her first appointment was the next week, and she was nervous the whole time over, but Natsuki had sat beside her in the car, calming and reassuring her as best she could, though she still wasn’t the best at the whole “feelings” thing.

Returning, she seemed subdued, but hopeful, and she said she wanted to go back.

Monika returned to school that Monday, Natsuki returned on Wednesday, and Sayori made it back Monday of the next week.

Though they returned to school, nothing was as it had been. Without Yuri, there felt like there was something missing at all times. Not to mention the fact that the literature club had been disbanded, for they were below the minimum amount of students.

Monika’s dream was dead, but she couldn’t bring herself to care all that much. The literature club itself didn’t matter much anymore. The people within it did, and the three of them continued to meet up at least once a week, usually much more.

They reminisced, discussed literature, cried on each other, watched corny movies and talked about every topic under the sun, never managing to get bored of it all.

Sayori continued to go to therapy, and slowly improved. She still had trouble getting up in the morning, she still had her moments of self-deprecation and guilt, but she was better.

That guilt was something they all shared, to the point where Monika had eventually decided to go to therapy herself, Natsuki following soon after.

Monika’s parents weren’t thrilled about their daughter going to a therapist, as a perfect girl shouldn’t need help like that, but Monika managed to convince them.

And they all improved. They were all still guilty, still had nightmares and cried themselves to sleep sometimes. Natsuki never spoke to her father again, and never did find out what became of him. It bothered her less and less as time went on, and she started considering Sayori’s parents as her own, but she still wondered every once in a while, still felt the pain he inflicted on her, wondering at his pain.

Throughout it all, they supported each other. Whenever Natsuki’s memories got the best of her, Sayori would comfort her, Monika would remind her that it was all over. Whenever Sayori was too hard on herself, Natsuki and Monika would remind her that she deserved love too. Whenever Monika started tiring herself out trying to be perfect or berated herself for mistakes, the others would remind her that it was okay to be imperfect, they loved her anyway.

And whenever one of them would get too lost in grief, remembering violet eyes and shy smiles, they would all gather together and cry once more.

They found themselves doing it less and less over the years.

They rebuilt their masks, but they were different.

Sayori was cheerful and energetic, but when she felt like the world was against her and she couldn’t summon the motivation to get out of bed, she’d call Monika, or Natsuki, or her parents. She conquered the urge to always respond to questions after her well-being with “I’m fine”, replacing it with, “I’m not fine, but I’ll get better”. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Natsuki was still loud and brash, not afraid to insult someone or point out mistakes. But she allowed herself to show her friends that she cared about them, and when she needed help, she asked for it. Reluctantly, of course, but she did so all the same.

Monika was still confident and skilled, and still tried to be the perfect leader and friend. But when she made mistakes, she forgave herself for them. She told her parents when she didn’t want to do something, or that they were pushing her too hard. They pushed back, but eventually accepted that their daughter was going to do what she wanted now. Most of all, she confided in her friends, told them when she was feeling stressed and overwhelmed, and always took time for herself, as well as time to spend with them.

Three broken girls, wearing masks, healing, and slowly starting to make their masks more and more of a reality.

Perhaps they’d never be perfect. Maybe they’d always have nightmares, have off days or attacks, but they’d be better.

And that was enough for them.

Chapter Text

Six Years Later

Natsuki heard a knock coming from the door and shouted, “Coming!”

She set down the plates she had been carrying on the table and made her way towards the front door of her modest, extremely pink house.

Over the years, she had gained quite a bit of weight, relishing in the chance to indulge in all the food she had before been denied. The skinny little girl was gone, though she was still extremely short, not that anyone could say that and get away with it. She had gained enough weight that she was certainly chubby, but she got enough exercise that it remained that way, and anyone who dared call her fat would soon find a fist shoved through their teeth. Other than that, her physical appearance was much the same.

She opened the door to reveal the former vice-president of the literature club, Sayori. She had let her coral pink hair grow out, and now it reached the middle of her back, a nd while she wasn’t monstrously tall, she still towered over Natsuki . Her bright smile lit up the room as it always did.

She seized the shorter woman in a hug, “Hey, Natsuki! It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, now stop squeezing me to death.”

Sayori immediately retreated and nervously poked her fingers together, a habit she had never lost, “But you’re so cuddly!”

Natsuki pouted playfully at the taller woman before gesturing for her to follow. They made their way towards the dining room and made small talk.

“So, how’s the wife?” Sayori asked cheerily.

“Oh, still beautiful and thoughtful as ever, not that I’d ever call her either of those things to her face.”

The two giggled a bit at the comment.

Natsuki continued, “She cleared out a bit ago, supposedly to go shopping, but really to give us some space. She knows we like to have it be just us today.”

Sayori nodded a bit more solemnly this time.

Natsuki, not ready to let the mood fall just yet, asked, “And how’s the idiot?”

Sayori giggled once more before responding, “He’s not that bad, Natsuki. I know he can be a bit… dense, sometimes, but he’s sweet and he tries.”

The pink-haired woman huffed.

“I don’t care what you say, the guy’s a moron. You two are a perfect match.”

Sayori playfully swatted at the pink-haired woman as they both sat down at the table, indignantly saying, “Hey!”

They both giggled before falling silent, wordlessly agreeing to wait for the final member of the trio.

And when a knock came, Natsuki went and retrieved her as well, and they returned to the dining room.

Monika had grown much taller since her younger days, and now was well over six feet tall, dwarfing her pink-haired friend in an almost comedic fashion. Her hair had been cut short, much to the horror of her parents, not that they had much of a say anymore, and her eyes shined just as brilliant an emerald hue as they always did.

As they walked in, Sayori heard Natsuki asking, “So, found anyone yet? I can’t believe someone as sexy as you still isn’t married, or dating at least.”

Monika chuckled as she waved to Sayori, which Sayori returned, before replying, “Your wife might not appreciate you describing another woman as sexy, Nat. And besides, I’m not looking for a romantic partner. I’m not particularly interested.”

Natsuki just shrugged and started towards the kitchen, “Fair enough, I g uess . I’ll bring out the food and drinks, you two just sit there and prepare to be amazed.”

Monika sat and wryly commented, “I’m prepared.”

Sayori chuckled a bit before they both fell silent. It was a comfortable silence, neither feeling the need to break it as they waited for the resident baker to make her way back.

Which she soon did, bearing a platter of cupcakes and a bottle of wine, the glasses and plates already on the table.

Monika raised an eyebrow at the ensemble as Natsuki set it down, commenting, “Glad to see we’re staying healthy.”

Natsuki seemingly ignored her as she poured the wine into each glass, but she eventually replying, “The cupcakes are for nostalgia, the wine because we need something to toast with.”

Sayori lifted a cupcake and bit into it, not waiting for the other two, “Works for me!”

Monika nodded thoughtfully. The cupcakes certainly did bring back fond memories of that club she had founded so long ago, in which friendships that would last a lifetime were forged. Nostalgia was certainly appropriate, considering what today was.

She took the glass in her hand, spinning it a bit to watch light reflect off of it.

Natsuki sat down and Sayori finished her cupcake, restraining herself from reaching for another.

The former president stood and brandished her glass towards a small bookshelf in the corner of the room, upon which stood a small pictureframe holding a photo of a young girl with long, violet hair and eyes to match, with a shy smile and kind, expressive features.

“To absent friends.”

The other two held their own glasses up.

“To absent friends.”

*

Three women sit together in a room full of memories, memories that were not made in the room, instead coming from the women themselves, on the anniversary of the day a young girl drowned in her mind.

Yet, one is missing, and her absence is keenly felt.

The literature club, long dead yet still alive in these three, will still never be whole.

And yet, while they all feel the absence of the fourth girl, they have long since accepted it. They had healed, they had found love, whether romantic or that of friends, they had suffered and conquered every trial and tribulation in their path.

And while they did not know, they liked to imagine that somewhere, a young girl with violet hair was watching, and was proudly smiling at the ones who had never forgotten her.