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It takes a lot to get Monika down. Usually, she wakes up with the sun and faces the morning with determination, whether or not she wants to. Today… is not one of those days. She’s used to pushing her way through the bad days, forced to get her act together for class, but today is a weekend and she’s alone in her apartment. College is good. Adulthood is good. But… Monika presses the heels of her palms into her eyes, sighing heavily. Lonely. It’s so lonely.
Days like these are more frustrating than anything. She gets up every day, she puts her best foot forward every day. Is she coming down with something…? Gritting her teeth, she bunches up her sheets in her fists and admits to herself that, no, she isn’t sick, and she certainly—hopefully—isn’t dying. Physically, she feels totally fine, aside from the mildly aggravating way her pajama bottoms have once again hiked themselves up to her knees. She’s not cold, not shaky, not overheating, not nauseous. So what gives?
(Somewhere deep down, she knows what it is. The question is whether she’ll let herself think about it long enough to figure it out.)
Monika rolls onto her side, stubborn exhaustion weighing down her eyelids. She doesn’t have anywhere to go, but she has this nagging in the back of her mind, like she should be doing something. What’s that trick Sayori always uses to get herself going? Monika’s face scrunches up as she tries to remember. It’s some kind of method, a counting thing. After focusing hard enough, it comes back to her. And maybe, just maybe, it’ll help.
“One… two…” Monika murmurs. When she gets to three, she has to get up, no exceptions. This arbitrary rule seems to work for Sayori, so why not for her? “Three.” At the last number, she flings the covers off her body and sits upright. Her head is foggy and her vision swims. Eugh.
Stumbling out of bed, Monika decides that nope, no, nope, she doesn’t feel any better. The first thing she sees is herself in the mirror, all dark circles and red spots that seem to be permanent residents on her face. If she tried harder, maybe they’d go away. Still… makeup does the trick. She laughs wryly as she gets to work—it’s ridiculous that she feels the need to do this even when she’s alone. No, a better word is pathetic. She can’t even look at herself.
With a surge of frustration, Monika swipes her beauty blender across her face for the final time and shoves her mirror out of the way. It promptly tips on its end and smashes against her desk. Oh, no, no, no no, please don’t be broken, she didn’t mean it! Monika carefully picks it up, realizing far too late that the glass has broken when her finger begins to sting.
A perfect storm, really, she thinks bitterly, pressing the cut to keep the blood from spilling any further. It hurts, but… Monika cringes as a thought surfaces. It should be a bad thing that it hurts, yet she finds herself missing the initial feeling as soon as it’s gone. The remaining sting is more comforting than painful.
Bzz-bzzt. Bzz-bzzt.
Glancing over her shoulder, Monika sees her phone buzzing on her bedside table, the screen lit up by a familiar photo. Sayori. Oh—Sayori!
Bzz-bzzt. Bzz-bzzt.
Monika springs up and rushes to pick up the phone, letting go of her finger in the process and getting a bit of red on her sleeve. “Hey, Sayori,” she says breathlessly, trying her best not to sound annoyed. The last thing she wants is for Sayori to think she’s mad at her—it’s misdirected anger. She’s just already had a long day, even though it’s only about nine or ten in the morning. “What’s?”
“Hi, Moni!” Sayori’s voice is as cheerful as ever, cutting straight through the fog surrounding Monika’s brain. It’s a welcome feeling, like ice to a sore muscle. “What time were you thinking of meeting later? I know we decided on that little coffee shop slash brunch place—is that what it’s called?—but I wasn’t sure when, ehe.”
Shit. Monika rubs her temples, using her shoulder to keep her phone at her ear. Shit, shit, shit. That itch in the back of her mind hadn’t just been anxiety, she really forgot that she’d made plans to see Sayori today. Guilt writhes in her stomach. She can’t possibly go out now, not like this, not when she’s actively plummeting toward rock bottom. Her clothing options are nonexistent with her failure to do laundry lately, she looks a wreck in every other way—how can she face Sayori like this? How could she have been so foolish to forget? It isn’t every day they see each other, either, since—
“You okay?” Sayori asks softly, a gentle sound in comparison to the low buzzing of anxiety that Monika can’t escape from. That she never has been able to. “I can practically hear you thinking over there. What’s up? Is now a bad time? I don’t mind if you want to do another day…”
But she does mind. That’s the thing with Sayori; Monika can tell when she’s not being honest, and right now, she isn’t. Because it means a lot when they make plans. Sayori has never forgotten them before, and up until this point, neither has Monika. She asks herself again: Is she really about to cancel? No, no way.
“N-No, today’s fine!” Monika tries to smile, hoping it reaches Sayori, wherever she is. Unfortunately, her voice breaks instead. It’s so unfair that her own body is betraying her like this.
“Moni,” Sayori begins, more serious than before. “If you’re having a bad day or anything like that, we don’t have to. I can reschedule! It’s totally okay.”
Monika slumps back into her stiff chair, glowering at the pieces of glass that are still strewn about the desk. Thankfully, her finger seems to have stopped bleeding on its own. She swallows thickly, confused and hurt by her inability to get the right words out.
“I want to,” Monika whispers, “I really want to. But I’m… just tired, I guess. This isn’t fair to you.”
“I understand. I promise it’s okay. Just take it easy, okay? I know how hard on yourself you can be,” Sayori adds knowingly, reading Monika flawlessly from afar. Her concern is palpable.
“Talk later?” Monika suggests before she can be subjected to the perfectly reasonable follow-up questions that she won’t be able to answer. ‘What’s wrong?’ No idea. ‘Are you okay?’ Probably not.
“Yeah. Of course,” Sayori agrees. “Love you, Moni. And I’ll see you soon, whenever that is!”
“Love you too, Sayo,” Monika responds quietly, the old nickname slipping out just as the line goes dead. She tosses her phone onto her bed without getting up and buries her face in her hands.
It’s all coming back to her now that she’s totally and completely blown her chance at having a good weekend. She does remember the conversation, and the cafe, and how much Sayori had been looking forward to it. If Monika could’ve just gotten her act together and gone out despite it all—but it’s not worth it to dwell on, and it serves her right. She deserves a miserable few days alone.
Really though, everything lately has been… subpar. Okay, it’s been awful, for more than just ‘lately’. Monika grimaces at the unwanted memories that suddenly choose to resurface; less-than-aced tests, sobbing over not understanding her stupid assignments, pointless all-nighters, embarrassingly failed conversations with her classmates. Why is it so hard to adjust to college, when high school had been so easy? Why… Why doesn’t she have any friends yet? Why is it a struggle just to get up sometimes?
Each question is a sucker punch. Monika almost slaps herself. She shouldn’t be feeling this way, she has no right to. So she forces herself to her feet and pads down the hall toward the kitchen. Though her place is small, it’s undeniably perfect for her; one of the many things she should be grateful for.
But as she stands there by the counter, gaze drifting from her refrigerator, to the sink, to the pile of dirty dishes, she realizes two things: she doesn’t have any groceries, and even if she did, she doesn’t have the energy to prepare anything. Her apartment is truly useless; even the little glass jar on the counter is empty of the fake flowers it had once held. Either way… it’s lifeless. All of it.
You know, none of this would be an issue if you just remembered your plans with Sayori, the voice in her head mocks, as if she doesn’t already know that. Who’s fault is that?
“Mine,” Monika grumbles, running a hand through her hair and wincing when it catches in a few tangles. It’s her fault, things usually are, because recently she’s been feeling like a bull in a china shop. That’s why she can’t make friends. (And probably why she’s about to lose all her old ones.)
Sayori wouldn’t ditch her over this, though, would she…? Monika paces the floor. She isn’t sure. After all, Sayori is the one who’s always had to deal with these feelings—the hopelessness, demotivation, the guilt. Yet she always pulls through, and she’s actually going through something. What gives Monika the right to feel crummy for one day and flake out? It’s not fair. Maybe Sayori will see right through her. Maybe she’s realizing that she was never a good friend to begin with.
Monika’s stomach begins to feel funny, warping in on itself and staying that way. She’s familiar with this feeling. When she gets really anxious or stressed, sometimes her entire body has something to say about it. She just… wishes it didn’t have to be right now. There’s a wrongness about her that she can neither place nor alleviate.
So she continues to pace, her breath quickening. With no phone in her hand to mindlessly scroll on and no people around her to force a smile for, she can do nothing but relive those same memories that have her in such a tizzy. Why, why, why does everything seem so impossible? Why is everything so loud? Someone is walking upstairs, the simple thump, thump, thump of footsteps has her blood boiling. A car alarm is going off outside. She wants to scream. Everything is too much. Life is too much, school is too much, she’s too much.
Monika presses her hands over her ears, stopping in her tracks in the middle of the kitchen. It takes every ounce of focus to stop moving, let alone to calm down. She’s had moments like this before, but most had been years ago. She doesn’t remember how to bring herself back down, how to get her feet on solid ground. All she can remember is the one, two, three, and she isn’t sure that applies to anything right now. She cups her forehead and tries to think back to those moments from so long ago.
“What do you see?” Sayori asks softly. She’s standing beside Monika’s desk, not quite touching her, yet not quite far away, either. The room is empty. “Name a couple things.”
“I, um… you?” Monika offers, her voice shaking nearly as badly as her hands that fidget on the desk. Her eyes dart around wildly, seeking out an answer to the question. “Th-The board,” she murmurs. “My… pen.”
Sayori smiles at her, nodding. “Yeah! Okay, let’s see. Something you hear.”
“Your voice.”
“Something you taste?”
“Uh…” Monika blinks, squeezing her hands together. “Spit?”
Sayori looks like she isn’t sure whether to laugh or not, so Monika giggles awkwardly, a sharp contrast to the racing of her heart and pounding sensation in her ears. At this moment, she feels the waves begin to subside. The storm is receding.
“I can see my hands,” Monika whispers to nobody, feeling foolish rather than grounded. She finds herself moving again against her will, circling the floor like she’s trying to embed footsteps into it. “I can see the floor. I can see—I can see the walls, this isn’t working!” The noise in her throat grows to a wail, a bitter sound that’s full of frustration and anger toward nobody but herself.
She can get herself upset, but she can’t undo it. Shouldn’t she be in control by now, shouldn’t she know better? Why had she been able to fix this as a kid, and not now? Is it her? Is she… more broken than before?
“I can hear…” Monika begins, but she pauses upon realizing that there actually is something to hear other than her own quickened breaths and the buzz of the radiator. Her phone is going off again. Oh, crap. She rushes to her room, praying that she hasn’t accidentally forgotten some other big, important thing. Her panicked mind insists that it’ll be her parents with terrible news to share, but a familiar profile picture is smiling back at her as she finally picks up. She furrows her eyebrows. “Sayo?”
“Hey, Moni,” Sayori greets brightly, sounding a touch out of breath. “Are you in a ‘no people’ type of mood? I know sometimes when I feel bad I’d rather just be by myself, so I was wondering if, you know, you’re the same way.”
Monika blinks. “Wh-What?” Her mind races, trying to interpret the question. “No, I just… aha, I’m being ridiculous. Overdramatic. I—I wish I would’ve just gone with you to begin with.”
“Great!” After a brief pause, Sayori shuffles with something on her end.
Ding.
“Hold on, Sayo, one second,” Monika interrupts, exiting her room and reluctantly approaching the door. It must be a package or something. At least, that’s what she’s telling herself; she doesn’t think she can handle facing a real human being.
She thinks back to Sayori’s question. Maybe my response wasn’t entirely true, Monika muses guiltily as she leans forward and peers through the peephole. It’s not that I’m in a ‘people’ mood… Or a ‘no people’ mood, for that matter. What I meant is ‘no people, except for—’ She gasps suddenly, shutting off her phone and wrenching open the door.
“S-Sayori,” Monika exclaims, eyes wide and hands frantically trying to tidy her hair. She can’t decide if this is worse or better than a random delivery guy or salesperson. Sure she might’ve really, really wanted to see Sayori, but she’s in no state to—!
“Moni! I brought you…” Sayori’s voice cuts off the whirling internal dialogue, and she shifts the brown paper bag in her arms to look at Monika properly. Secured in her other hand is a small bouquet of wildflowers, the type that bloom sporadically in the grass near the entrance to the apartment complex. Monika hasn’t been outside enough to admire them.
Whatever else Sayori says after this is white noise to Monika, as she drinks in the surprise presence of her friend. Sayori is in a pretty yellow sundress, so crisp and neat compared to the mess of Monika’s disheveled pajamas. It compliments the flowers perfectly. Her face is bare; Monika can see the natural reddish tint of her cheeks and the sporadic smattering of freckles around her nose. Her hair is tied in a side ponytail, half-up half-down, and Monika can’t help the twinge of pain in her heart.
Sayori is beautiful. She’s beautiful, and put together, and everything Monika wishes so desperately she could be right about now. Everything she isn’t. It occurs to her at that moment that Sayori must’ve come so far to see her, even after Monika messed up their plans, and she must’ve already been ready and dressed when she made that first phone call. Why had she bothered at all, when Monika doesn’t deserve the effort?
“Hey,” Sayori murmurs, swiftly moving to place her bag down on the counter and the handful of flowers into the empty jar. She doesn’t bother filling it with water before coming to stand in front of Monika. She reaches out to gingerly touch her cheek, and it’s then that Monika realizes she’s been crying quietly since Sayori had stepped through the door.
“I’m s-sorry,” Monika blubbers, choking on her tears as she feels herself coming undone, unspooling like a broken roll of film. She scrubs at her face, getting smudged makeup and mascara on her sleeve to accompany the smear of blood from earlier. “I’m a wreck, and I f-forgot our p-plans, and—and you shouldn’t have t-to see this!” The sentence ends in a near-wail, louder and more childish than it had started. “And I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry, Sayori, I’m sorry.”
In an instant, Sayori’s arms are around her, an unquestioning, warm gesture that both comforts and shatters Monika. She can feel her broken pieces splintering into smaller and smaller shards that all embed into her heart, sending flashes of pain through her system with each sob that wracks her body. Sayori seems to absorb the shockwaves without so much as a flinch, an immovable force against the devastation that shakes Monika like a leaf in a hurricane. Her arms are strong. Her body is gentle. And, when Monika rests her head against Sayori’s chest, she can hear the ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum of her heartbeat.
“You came,” Monika whispers, regaining her voice somewhat although she doesn’t move her head. She’s too tired for that. Every movement takes an irreversible toll on her, like gravity is dragging her down, down, down to the molten core of the planet. “You didn’t have to.”
“But I wanted to,” Sayori tells her sincerely, holding her close and rubbing slow circles into her back. Despite how horrific Monika feels inside, this one simple gesture helps to relieve some of the aching in her bones.
With a final shaky breath, Monika lifts her head. She winces as she meets Sayori’s eyes, feeling like a large spotlight has just been placed on her. Her own eyes are still watery, definitely red and puffy by this point. She knows she’s a mess. Yet… Sayori doesn’t look away, her gaze doesn’t falter. She cups the side of Monika’s face, carefully wiping the tear tracks away as she cradles it.
“You’re beautiful, Monika.”
The words are enough to break her all over again. Monika hiccups and tears up, no longer able to find the blue of Sayori’s eyes through the blur of colors and shapes. She sniffles, trying her best not to get snot on her face, but the effort is truly in vain. There’s no reason for her to be acting like this, but here she is, falling apart like a poorly constructed castle of cards. The lightest breeze would’ve crumbled her to pieces; she’s just lucky Sayori had happened to be here to help her rebuild.
“C’mon,” Sayori takes Monika’s hand and leads her down the hall toward the bathroom, pushing the door open for her. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”
Monika hums back her agreement. Her nose is stuffy and there’s still a lump in her throat, both of which prevent her from speaking coherently. She allows Sayori to take control in this moment, watching in silence as she flips on the tap. Upon testing the water, she gasps sharply and retracts her hand—the ‘hot’ handle is cranked up all the way. Monika should’ve warned her. Stupid.
After a moment more of fidgeting with the handles, Sayori appears to deem it an acceptable temperature. When the sink basin is filled partially, she shuts the water off. Then she removes the hair tie from her own ponytail—ignoring the soft noise of protest—and begins to unknot Monika’s hair, using her fingers as a comb. Despite hating how much of a burden she’s being, Monika can’t deny that the sensation of Sayori’s fingertips against her scalp isn’t mind-numbingly wonderful. It soothes her worries and puts a damper on the bad thoughts, if only for a few minutes. The briefest respite.
Once the knots are gone, Sayori ties Monika’s hair out of her face, then finds a clean washcloth from the cabinet—she knows this apartment like it’s her own, despite having only been here a few times—and holds it beneath the gently flowing stream of water for a moment.
“May I?” Sayori asks, one hand finding Monika’s cheek again, and the other holding the damp washcloth. She gestures to her face.
Nodding miserably, Monika tries not to catch her reflection in the mirror, and decides to sit on the closed lid of the toilet just so she’s too low to see into it. She knows her makeup is running. It had been stupid to put it on at all, but crying it off in front of Sayori, of all people, is next-level moronic. She averts her eyes. She doesn’t want to watch, doesn’t want to see. Doesn’t need to know.
But Sayori holds her chin so carefully, like Monika is something to be protected and handled with love. The washcloth is a cheap, rough one, yet it glides across her skin with the delicacy of a summer breeze. It’s not too warm, not too cold, because Sayori is wonderful. Because Sayori cares so much that it’s tangible. This still doesn’t answer one question, though:
“Why’d you bother?” Monika mutters, eyes closed as Sayori uses the cloth to gently remove her mascara. She doesn’t usually leave the house without makeup anyway, as it quickly became a crutch once she began using it. In other words, this is well out of her comfort zone in more ways than one.
“Something felt wrong,” Sayori says. Just from her tone—and the way her hand jostles ever so slightly—Monika can tell she’s shrugging. “Plus, I’ve used the whole ‘tired’ excuse enough times, ehe… Takes one to know one. I just… didn’t want you to be alone, if my guess was right.”
Monika cracks one eye, peering up at Sayori. The unexpected eye contact clearly takes the other girl by surprise; her cheeks begin to darken just a bit beyond their normal rouge.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Sayori taps Monika lightly on the nose, prompting her to close her eyes, and finishes cleaning her face. The water runs once more, and the warm sensation of the cloth on Monika’s cheek is gone. When Monika looks at Sayori for direction, she curtsies deeply, her dress rippling with the movement. “All done! You look like a princess, madam. Fairest in the land.”
A princess? In this state? Yeah right. Glancing away, Monika feels the shame welling up in her chest again. She doesn’t deserve this type of care. She doesn’t deserve the compliment, either. Still, she can feel Sayori’s gaze on her, accompanied by the strange sensation of being… known. Of being seen, really seen, for the first time in a while. At least, the first time since she’d been home.
“Hey, your sleeve,” Sayori says abruptly. She takes Monika’s hand and observes the red splotch on her sleeve. Her gaze shifts to the mark left by the glass shard, and there’s a sick mixture of fear and dread written on her face. “Did—?”
“Broke a mirror,” Monika explains hoarsely. She knows that fear. She knows the question that had almost been asked. Did you do this to yourself? No. But it isn’t not a possibility, and it also isn’t really that far off, which makes it just as bad. Honestly, though… it’s just the littlest scratch, and on her finger, of all places. It shouldn’t be worrying to begin with. Yet…
Nodding in a half-confused, half-relieved way, Sayori doesn’t press the matter and simply opens the medicine cabinet. After rustling around for a moment—and knocking a few things over, punctuated by interestingly censored cuss words—she produces a small box of bandaids. Rather than handing one to Monika, Sayori instead takes her delicately by the wrist and wraps up the injured finger herself.
“Thanks,” Monika mumbles. It’s odd, being taken care of like this. She hasn’t felt this way in a long, long time. It had been a rarity even in her early teenage years.
“So… Do you wanna tell me what’s up?” Sayori breaches the subject with caution, allowing her hand to rest on Monika’s knee. It reminds her, once again, of her woefully inadequate attire.
Monika nods toward the hall. “In the other room would probably be better. And th-thank you again, I feel… less terrible,” she admits, her face warming up. Though, she isn’t sure if it’s just mere embarrassment at being seen so vulnerable. There’s something new about Sayori that she’s beginning to see now. Maybe it’s always been there, and she’s been blind this whole time. She’s not quite sure.
As Monika leads the way into the living space and sinks onto the couch, she finds this revelation weighing on her. It’s a different sort of weight than her anxiety and… and sadness, but it’s still nagging at her nonetheless. She’s always known that Sayori is a good person, and believe her, she’s always been well aware of her physical beauty. This is beyond anything she’d seen from her before, though; being clubmates didn’t exactly offer much opportunity for such closeness, such intimacy. It’s more than just ‘kind’ or ‘pretty’.
Rather than sitting down right away, Sayori instead grabs the fuzzy blanket draped over one arm of the couch and tucks it around Monika’s shoulders. Then she takes the offered seat, rests her chin on her fists, and blinks up at her intently, like Monika is the most captivating person she’s ever met in her life.
Curling into the blanket, Monika sighs lightly and pulls it up to partially cover her face. “I feel bad that you had to go out of your way,” she begins in a quiet voice, “just to have to… deal with me.”
“Deal with you?” Sayori echoes, a nudge to continue on.
“Yeah. We were supposed to—to do something fun, and I ruined it.”
“You didn’t ruin anything.” Sayori shakes her head firmly, eyebrows knit. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now. Swear. But Moni…” She sits up and drums her fingers against her thighs. “This isn’t what I meant, and you know it. What’s really bothering you? I’m… worried.”
Monika squeezes the blanket in her fists, unable to even feel its fuzz in her death grip. She wishes she could explain everything to Sayori; the buzzing sound, the pit of anxiety, the way she feels like her stomach is filled with rocks. Class is hard. Being away from home is hard. Being away from Sayori is hard. It’s only been a handful of months—maybe a bit more than that—but it feels like the walls close in more every day. The pressure builds and builds, mounting like a rising tide growing into a monstrous tsunami, and she doesn’t know how to handle it. When nobody is pushing her forward, when nobody is there to reassure her, who is she? Where does she fit?
“I’m not good enough for this,” Monika confesses in a wobbly voice. “I try my hardest every day, but it’s not enough. I put my best foot forward, but it’s not enough. And I’m… I don’t know if I can do it anymore. I’m not good enough.” The words repeat hollowly in her mind, not enough, not enough, not enough.
“Oh, Moni,” Sayori breathes, “you can’t mean that.”
Unable to form a response at first, Monika reaches out and takes Sayori’s hands. She presses her fingertips into them, feeling the ridges of her knuckles and the smoothness of the back of her hands, just to know she’s real. She’s real, she’s here, she’s not leaving. Not yet. They still have time.
“Sometimes I think it’s true.” Monika takes a slow breath, trying to maintain the composure she’d gained just a few minutes ago. “But I… feel more like myself now. I think I’m just lonely. That’s probably it.”
There’s a look on Sayori’s face. She bites her lip and rubs her thumb against Monika’s hand, visibly debating something in her mind. Finally, she meets her eyes again. “Can I ask you something?”
Monika nods.
“Have you… ever thought…” Sayori tightens her grip on Monika, her expression more serious than she’d ever seen it. “Moni, have you ever thought that maybe you’re… depressed?”
The sound of that word leaving Sayori’s mouth slices through Monika like a bolt of lightning. She immediately thinks back to high school, to Sayori confiding in her, to realizing that mental health is so much more complex and hidden than she’d ever realized. Her, Monika, depressed? How could she ever say that? There’s another explanation, surely. She can’t claim to have depression when it’s something real, and she’s just a typical homesick kid with no reason to be struggling. She… She can’t say something like that.
“N-No,” Monika murmurs.
But the previous months begin to flit past her mind’s eye in vivid detail, a much more accurate depiction of her life than what she’s been telling herself. Sure she wakes up with the sun, but she’s never rested. Sure she faces the day with determination, but it’s all forced. The smiles she gives her classmates, the small talk she fails to initiate; that’s forced, too. All of it. The reason she doesn’t see Sayori as often anymore isn’t just because they live in different cities, it’s because half the time, Monika doesn’t even have the willpower to send a text or make a call. Her days lately have been tinged a pitiful shade of blue-gray, and she’s starting to wonder if maybe Sayori has a point.
Monika shifts slightly. “Maybe. I… I don’t know. I just feel really awful, Sayo. I don’t know how else to put it. There’s no r-reason I should feel this way, but I can’t even look at myself anymore. Nobody likes me. I have no friends.”
From the knowing glimmer in Sayori’s eye, Monika can tell that this all sounds familiar to her. In horror, she realizes that it’s more than just a trick of the light causing that shine; tears are brimming in her eyes.
“Before I say this… I know it isn’t going to magically fix anything,” Sayori prefaces carefully, wiping at her eyes before Monika can mention the tears. “Just, you gotta hear me out, okay?”
“Okay,” Monika repeats, barely a mumble.
“You are easily— easily —the most capable person I’ve ever met,” Sayori begins earnestly, with palpable emotion in her voice. “You don’t deserve to feel this way. You’re… Jeez, you’re Monika! You’re starting your life, you’re putting yourself out there. Anyone would be lucky to get to know you, I promise. You have absolutely nothing to prove. Nothing. And you’re more than enough, Moni. You’re incredible, and wonderful, and my—my best friend. But I’ve been seeing you less and less lately, and when I do see you… you’re less and less yourself.”
Monika’s heart sinks. She might know where this is going.
“You try to make everything seem great, but…” Sayori shrugs and looks to the side, before her gaze comes to rest on their hands, still intertwined between them. “It’s not, is it? I can hear it in your voice sometimes. It’s hard, knowing you’re going through all this by yourself.” She pauses, jaw clenching. “I wish I would’ve gone with you,” Sayori finishes, giving Monika a watery smile as she echoes the earlier sentiment. “That’s all.”
It hurts to hear everything laid bare like this. Monika’s chest tightens. It hurts to look the truth in the eye. She wishes Sayori had gone to college with her too, she wishes she weren’t so alone, she wishes she weren’t so perpetually sad and exhausted. But Sayori needs time. High school wasn’t that long ago, after all, and her brain is working against her. (Funny… Monika winces at her silent comment. Now she’s sort of in the same boat.)
“You did what was right for you.” Monika opens the blanket and makes space for Sayori to join her, holding her around the waist after they’re both engulfed by its fluffy warmth. “I should’ve too. Look at where it got me.”
Laughing, Sayori shakes her head and snuggles closer to Monika. “Nah. I remember how amped up you were before you left—you were born for this. You’re gonna take over the world.” With her cheek against Monika’s shoulder, Sayori tilts her head to look up at her. “This rough patch will pass, Moni, I promise it will, if… if you let the right people help you. If you let yourself accept the help.”
Help. That’s a word Monika really doesn’t like. She physically stiffens at the sound of it, like it’ll jump out and bite her. She’s a bit of a solo act, to say the least.
“Ehe… I thought you might say that,” Sayori remarks.
“I didn’t say anything—!”
“Your body did.” Sayori shrugs. She had always been able to see right through Monika, even able to read her during trivial spats about poetry and grammar, so this is no shock to either girl. “Anyway… I’ve talked too much for the one who was supposed to be listening. I’m just glad to see you.”
The sensation of Sayori’s body weight leaning into her is… really, really nice. Comforting and reassuring all in one soft, warm person. Her favorite person, she decides. Monika stifles a yawn behind her fist. “I’m glad to see you, too, Sayo.”
This is the best day I’ve had in a long time, Monika thinks to herself privately, allowing her eyes to close. It’s ironic, given how said ‘best day’ had started… but she is always surprised when Sayori is involved, somehow, some way. The longer she mulls this over, the sleepier she gets—until at last, lulled by Sayori’s soft snores, she drifts off.
Peaceful. Is that the word Monika is looking for? It’s been so long since she can remember using it.
“Wh’ time is it?” Monika jolts awake, her leg involuntary jerking forward in the process. She glances around feverishly in an attempt to get her bearings, before remembering what’s going on and what day it is. Though… her breath hitches when she finds an empty space beside her.
“It’s, uh—one-thirty!” Sayori announces from somewhere to her side. Her head pops into Monika’s view as she leans over the couch. “Oops, I mean one twenty-two. I tend to round time, ehe… But also, it’s lunchtime. So get your butt to the table.” Her expression softens after the teasing command leaves her mouth. “Or, you know what, I’ll bring it to you. You deserve the best!”
Monika scrubs the sleep out of her eyes, finding Sayori’s claim hard to believe. Still… Did she say ‘lunch’? Monika had been asleep for all of twenty minutes. How had Sayori managed to prepare something so quickly? Can… Can Sayori cook? She peers into the kitchen, but rather than finding an array of messy pots and pans as expected, she finds it cleaner than the day she moved in. There isn’t a dirty dish in sight, and the jar containing the wildflowers has been filled up and moved to the windowsill. The glass reflects golden sunlight into the room, and it occurs to Monika that she hasn’t opened the blinds in quite a while.
Hang on. Had Sayori tidied up the kitchen while she’d been—? Before Monika can voice her suspicions, however, Sayori hauls her mysterious brown bag over and plunks it onto the coffee table. She then proceeds to extract the contents: one bottle of chocolate milk, one cup of coffee, a few sugar packets, and two smaller paper bags. Monika’s bag is labeled ‘For Moni!!’ with a sharpie in Sayori’s wonderful, lopsided handwriting, complete with smiley faces and hearts. Her own heart melts at the sight. Nobody has been that thoughtful toward her in a long time.
“Okay, it’s not the greatest in the world,” Sayori admits as Monika pulls out a bakery muffin from her bag, “but I stopped by that brunch place on the way here. And this is definitely not the same as actually being there, so we can go properly another time, but I thought this might make up for it.” She taps her index fingers together before continuing her ramble, red in both the face and the ears: “I, uh, hope I got your coffee order right, I think I remember something about vanilla and… caramel…? Or maybe it was—”
Monika couldn’t have cared less about the coffee. She takes Sayori’s face in her hands, hopes to god she isn’t about to ruin the best friendship she’s ever had, and kisses her. In an instant she pulls away, eyes wide, and claps her hands over her mouth as if the action had been completely out of her control. The timing is shit, and she didn’t ask if she could do that, and the timing is so shit it’s unreal!
“Oh.” Sayori’s eyes are just as wide as Monika’s, but if there had been a blushing competition, she’d be winning.
“I’m… I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that,” Monika stammers. She wishes she could rewind and do that over again, but she knows she would do it all the same. “This is the worst way I could’ve—oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
Sayori touches her lips lightly, as if she can’t believe Monika had just kissed her. Truthfully, Monika can’t believe it, either. Who in their right mind admits to potentially having depression, falls asleep on their guest, then follows all of that up with a peck on the lips? You absolute fool!
“Can we… pretend I didn’t do that?” Monika mumbles, embarrassed. She can feel the static coming back, drowning out the rest of her surroundings so that all she can hear is idiot, idiot, idiot.
“Did you not want to?” Sayori asks suddenly, searching Monika’s face. She wrings her hands. “‘Cause, if, if you didn’t want to, I’ll forget about it. But, um… Moni,” she says carefully, “I’ve… ah…”
Monika waits with bated breath, accidentally squishing part of her muffin as her fist clenches subconsciously. She sets it down carefully back onto the bag, mentally apologizing to it, before gathering all of her strength and returning to look at Sayori.
“I’ve kinda liked you for a while,” Sayori explains, wincing as if Monika—who just kissed her, to be clear—will freak out. She twirls her thumbs, suddenly awkward and quiet. “I thought it would go away when you left, but… it didn’t. Not even a tiny bit. And I—I didn’t have any ulterior motive here, I promise! It had nothing to do with me stopping by today, trust me, I didn’t expect this at all. I just… You’re really, really hard not to like, you know that?”
Dumbfounded, Monika can do nothing but stare with her mouth slightly agape. “I… what? Me? Even after this?” she asks. It’s truly something she can’t even begin to wrap her head around. For a while? Suddenly, though, things begin to slot into place. She’s beginning to wonder whether Sayori’s face is actually naturally flushed or not. (Is it wrong to hope that she really has liked her for all this time? Is it wrong that she wants to believe it?)
“Even after this,” Sayori confirms with a nod. She chews at her lower lip once more, taking her own ‘lunch’ out of her bag; it’s a cinnamon roll, and now she’s staring at it so intensely that it might just burst into flames.
“And I never noticed.”
“Nope.”
“Gosh.” Monika presses a hand to her forehead and takes a bite of her muffin. It’s her favorite flavor, lemon poppyseed, because of course, Sayori pays attention to everything. How foolish Monika is, to have felt so lonely while having the most incredible person right there the whole time. “I’ve been taking you for granted, haven’t I?” she asks quietly, ashamed to admit the thoughts swirling in her mind.
Sayori shakes her head, swallowing part of her roll. There’s a smidge of frosting on her face that Monika doesn’t have time to wipe off before she begins to speak: “No,” Sayori informs her firmly. “It was my choice to not say anything, I was gonna stay quiet forever, ehe. Besides, Moni, you’re dealing with a lot. You should give yourself credit for that, I mean, leaving and going out on your own is so brave. And stressful. But mostly brave! There’s a reason I couldn’t do it, after all.”
Frowning, Monika shakes her head. She may have been the one melting down a bit earlier, but she knows full well that Sayori’s life is far from a walk in the park. If her day-to-day is even a fraction of what Monika has been dealing with lately… Well, the mere idea of it physically sends a pang through her heart.
“You’re…” Monika trails off. After a moment of quiet, trying fruitlessly to find the perfect words, she releases the breath she’d been holding. The perfect words won’t come, but Sayori won’t mind it if she sounds less than sophisticated. “You’re exactly where you should be. And… deciding to heal and recover rather than pushing yourself too hard and getting hurt… that’s braver than anything I’ve ever done.”
It’s true. Monika may be ‘going far’ and ‘working her hardest’, but it’s Sayori who’s had to face the most challenging decision. Sometimes, resting is more difficult than anything else. Prioritizing yourself is harder than any test or quiz Monika has received; that’s why she’s spiraling now, and that’s why she can’t even wash her own face or do her own dishes.
“Shuddup,” Sayori protests through a mouthful of cinnamon roll, “you’re g’na make me cry, meanie.”
Shaking her head, Monika laughs softly at the sound of her voice. Sayori has always had an impeccable knack for bringing the sunshine when all Monika has found lately is rain. Rain… where has she heard that before?
“Sayo, what did you call your depression when we were younger?” Monika furrows her brow as she tries to think back. It’s bittersweet. Such a beautiful time, filled with so much sadness. “Stormclouds?”
“Rainclouds,” Sayori corrects softly, a faraway look in her eyes. “It’s been a while since I called it that, ehe. They haven’t bothered me as much lately. Does… it feel that way to you, now?”
Monika finishes her muffin and toys with the wrapper, stalling for a moment at the question. “Y-Yeah,” she murmurs, sliding the wrapper into the empty bag. “A little.”
They sit in silence for a few moments, no words necessary. Opening up to Sayori is the smartest thing Monika has ever done. Just sitting with her is different suddenly, because now she understands exactly how Monika has been feeling. And being understood is like… like having the sun warm her skin for the first time in a long time. Like sitting by the fireplace after being out in the snow; your hands have been numb for so long that you forget they used to have feeling in them, but it will come back if you’re patient. If you just wait a bit.
“Sayo,” Monika begins gingerly. She gets an attentive nod in reply, but she can’t stop herself from wiping the icing off of Sayori’s face before continuing. “Later on… after I, um, start feeling a little better, do you think we could actually go to that cafe?”
“Are you asking if we can hang out at the coffee shop slash brunch place?”
“Sort of.” Monika bites her lip, feeling a real smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. It’s bittersweet, but when haven’t the two of them been that way? Although she isn’t exactly out of the rain yet, she’s going to fight like hell to get there. “I’m asking if I can take you on a date to the coffee shop slash brunch place. If you’d have me, that is.”
Grinning, Sayori nods ecstatically. “I would love to, Moni. More than anything in the whole world.”
“Even cinnamon rolls?” Monika arches an eyebrow as Sayori pouts and gazes longingly at the crumbs remaining from her treat.
“Mm… Yes.”
“You hesitated.”
“I did not!”
When the crumbs are swept away and the trash is thrown out, Monika finds herself once more standing in the kitchen. She glances to the side; this time, rather than finding her vacant apartment, she finds Sayori peeking back at her. Monika brushes her hands on her pants and returns to stand by the couch, behind Sayori. As much as she really, really doesn’t want to be alone again, she knows that the traffic will get crazy soon.
“You should probably get going,” Monika scratches the back of her neck, ignoring the bitter aftertaste of her suggestion. She forces herself to stay in the moment, to avoid thinking about her empty refrigerator and even more depressing bedroom.
Sayori catches her gaze and holds it for a moment, getting up so that she can stand in front of her and face her properly. “Are you sure?” she asks, a shadow of concern flitting past her features. There’s an unspoken conversation between them, with furrowed eyebrows and pointed glances in place of words. “I could stay with you. Just for tonight.”
“You’ve done too much for me already,” Monika insists.
“No,” Sayori interrupts. She brushes a few loose pieces of hair away from Monika’s face, looking at her in that intense Sayori way. “I haven’t. All I did was show up. If you want me to stay, I will. I was serious when I said there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
Without thinking, Monika pulls Sayori into a hug, allowing herself to be held, allowing the warmth to permeate her skin. Allowing herself to be loved. Her breath catches. She has a long way until the rainclouds clear for good and she can take Sayori back to that cafe, but she wants to get there. So, so badly. And if the first step is accepting a little love… then maybe that’s something she can learn how to do.
“Okay,” Monika whispers into Sayori’s shoulder. She can hear her heartbeat, she can see that pretty yellow sundress, she can smell vanilla and cinnamon sugar. Sayori is here and the storm is receding. “Stay.”