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Somehow it’s more like watching a movie play out rather than an “out-of-body experience”. It’s a movie I’ve seen before, and one I hate the ending of.
The jester avatar bounds up to the ragdoll in the blue dress, practically vibrating with excitement. “Ragatha! You won’t believe it!” Pinwheel eyes of red and blue are wide and hopeful, and I wish I could make it stop. The jester has no idea what she’s going to lose by doing this. I want to scream at her, tell her to shut up before she ruins everything. I wish I hadn’t done it. I’d do anything to be back in the Circus, back with you.
You smile, a sight that had made the jester’s heart flutter and even now sends me over the moon. I sigh, moving closer as if I could hope to touch the face of a goddess one more time as the jester continues “I finally found it! I finally found—” and suddenly I’m seeing through the avatar’s eyes, looking up at the smiling face of perfection.
“Found what, hon?” You prompt, all patience and unending love, and I’m tongue-tied all over again by your voice. You wait for me to find my voice again, and the words come without me thinking.
“I- I, uh, I finally found… Kinger’s centipede!” I tell you, forcing a smile. “So it won’t be roaming around anymore!” The look on your face is enough to make my smile real, the gratitude and love in your eye. You move closer and I can feel my cheeks redden. “So… we can relax now.” I finish, unable to look away from the perfection in front of me.
Your eye crinkles when you chuckle with relief. “Oh, thank god…” you sigh, and my hand finds yours. You looks down at our hands, suprise flickering across your face. “Pomni?” You inquire with light concern. I recognize the strangeness, considering I rarely initiate contact, and I find my grip tightening as I meet your gaze.
“Let’s go find the others.” I suggest, and your brow furrows as you scour my face. I give a small insistent tug, willing you to not prod lest I unravel, and you come willingly with a renewed smile.
“Sounds like a plan to me!” You agree, and I want this to last forever as you begin walking and I follow like a lamb to the slaughter. When you turn to face me after only a few steps, I feel the guilt crushing me. “What’s wrong?” You ask. “Pomni?” Your voice is usually a balm to the raging thoughts that spiral in my head, but this time its more like twisting the knife in my heart. I’m bleeding out in front of you and you can’t see it, you never will see it because—
“This isn’t how it happened.” I whisper, feeling my throat tighten. Despite that, you step closer with a sigh. When I look up, all I can see is your sorrow. I bite my tongue, wishing I’d never spoken at all, that I had just shoved this guilt down and simply enjoyed having you while it lasted.
“No, it isn’t.” You agree, your other hand coming up to join in holding my hand. When I look up at you again, it feels like I’m drowning and the only life preserver has been yanked cruelly away from me just as I reach for it. There’s regret in your eye, the small, sad smile of someone accepting their fate. “But it was nice to dream of a moment it did.”
Even though it’s just a dream, I feel like this is the only chance I’ll ever have to tell you what I wish I could have, knowing what I know now— that I’ll never see you again.
“You were a wonderful experience.” And I mean every word. I’m blessed enough to even be able to dream about you.
You look at me with a knowing gaze that still is brimming with unconditional love. “And you were everything.” My heart breaks because I know it’s true. You bend down, and I rise onto tiptoe to meet your lips against mine. It’s a soft kiss that spanned all a century and a heartbeat, our lips communicating the grief we couldn’t convey with words. We break apart, and I feel cold as your hands release mine. Then you’re walking, walking away to the red curtains and vanishing from sight. As I hear the familiar music begin to play, I stare ahead.
Day after day after day after day you’ll fly, fly on without me, because I managed to get out— but at the cost of leaving behind the best thing to ever happen to me. As I feel the first stirs of waking up, I find the words that have ached in my chest for so long.
“Goodbye, Ragatha.”
Maybe one day I’ll dream of you again, I’ll dream of your smile and warmth, the way you always tried your best. For now though, the dream has ended and I need to wake up.
…
My eyes open to a bland white ceiling, not the red and blue tent colors I long for deep in my bones. I sigh, the air heavy in my chest. Every day I’m here, I’ll miss you.
Will you miss me too, even if you were never real?