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As much as Sua would hate to admit it, Ivan’s words remained in her head long after he had said them. They swam in gut wrenching circles around her mind as she speedwalked through the fake woods of Anakt Garden, searching quickly for a secluded spot to let her tears fall.
“You will become nothing more than a trauma to the one left behind.”
It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. There had always been something off about Ivan, something fundamentally irregular about him that set him apart from the other children in Anakt. He had never built a relationship like Sua had with Mizi. He could never understand what it was like. He didn’t know what he was talking about.
(A treacherous part of Sua wondered if she’d have turned out the exact same, had it not been for Mizi’s generous acceptance.)
She wiped her tears and wandered aimlessly, her destination indeterminate, searching for whatever there is to find amongst the artificial trees. Any distraction would do her well. Anything but Ivan or Mizi right now; she couldn’t bring herself to look at either of them, for entirely different reasons.
She turned—and was met with a restless teal gaze. Till’s left hand was in the air, fingers caught in a bizarre position that resembled the way he’d press down on the neck of his guitar. In his right hand was a crinkled sheet of paper that he flipped over the moment his eyes met with Sua’s.
Sua’s first impression of Till had been negative, a little fearful, even, but she thought that completely reasonable, considering his first few weeks in Anakt consisted of him screaming through the night, biting and hitting the teachers, being constantly muzzled and restrained, and even temporarily prohibited from partaking in mandatory playtime due to his violent tendencies. Sua’s plan was to keep her distance, ideally forever.
But Mizi, bless her beautiful and trusting heart, was convinced that the Feral Kid of Anakt was “just misunderstood” and “a sweetheart deep down,” so she had all but dragged Sua into the first few interactions they’d had together.
Through her, she and Till had become acquainted, and eventually began interacting on their own. They had laughed over the fact that they'd both fallen for that same girl (“you can’t even talk to her without stuttering,” Sua would tease, and would be given a rude hand gesture in response), rivaled over their test scores (“I’m a genius,” Till would say, as if it were sufficient explanation as to why he’d beat Sua’s music grade by one point again), and even bonded over mutual dislike for some of their fellow classmates (“Acorn’s bothering you? I hate him too!”).
Surprisingly, she’d consider him a friend.
They stared at each other. There was something about the erratic way Till eyed her that never failed to make her uneasy, something intelligent that made her feel exposed, as if she was being studied and analyzed for every action she took. She felt this way under Ivan’s watch as well, but there was something inexplicably different about it, like a contrast between two random objects that couldn’t necessarily be considered opposites, but didn’t have all that much in common, either.
It used to scare her before she spent a little bit more time with Till and discovered that he had the exact same opinion on the way she looked at him.
“The pairings were released,” He stated the obvious.
“I know.”
“You’re up against… her. Round one.”
“I know.”
A beat of silence. “So what’re you gonna do about it?”
Her answer was immediate: “What would you do if you were in my place?”
It was hard to tell in the dim light, but she swore she could see his eyes soften. He turned his attention back to the paper in his lap. “See you on stage.”
✼ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ✼
Another thing she’d found she had in common with Till is a strong distaste for physical touch. They’d never asked each other why, had simply accepted the similarities in their boundaries and enjoyed the personal space that was so dear to their hearts.
Mizi, of course, was their only exception to this rule. (And sometimes Ivan, in Till’s case, but that privilege was exclusively reserved for their “good days.”)
And even though she knows this, Sua can’t help but bump her hand against him now, as she walks in her white dress and pearl earrings to what will be the final performance of her life. She can’t help but give a small smile as he awkwardly wraps an arm around her shoulders in response. She can’t help but lean against him as he rests his chin on top of her head.
Silently, words pass between them without the need to be verbally expressed.
I know you, but I don’t.
I understand you, but I don’t.
We’re the same, but we aren’t.
I’ll miss you.
Neither of them plan on making it out of this alive. Maybe that’s for the better.
✼ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ✼
Till’s glad he was able to hug her goodbye. It made this so much easier.
As Sua’s body hits the floor, he manages to keep his eyes on Mizi’s devastated face, and not a sound escapes his muzzled mouth.
(He doesn’t see the look on Ivan’s face, bitter resentment festering just underneath a slack expression.)
Sua, a deity, a doll, a girl, is still for the last time. The crowd goes wild.