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“What do you know about ghosts?”
There’s a haunted look in the boy’s eyes, something that tells Mizi that he’s just like her. Which is why she opens her mouth to respond.
“Ghosts? I know a lot about ghosts,” Mizi informs him. Her tongue flickers out, wetting her dry lips. She manages an indulgent, kind smile. “I have one of my own.”
𓆩♡𓆪
She was young when she met her, and she was young when she lost her. That was their story, she and Sua. They were young together, and then they weren’t together at all.
Sometimes Mizi thinks that it wouldn’t have made a difference. It wouldn’t have mattered when she lost Sua; it would always be soon, too soon. Like the date of their competition, like the glowing numbers above their heads, like the gunshot that tore through Sua’s body and left Mizi’s heart broken.
That’s what she thinks sometimes. But mostly, she thinks she would’ve let the universe collapse just to spend another glorious minute with Sua.
𓆩♡𓆪
The thing about Mizi is that she looks well rested.
She knows that this is more than most can say about the refugees they find hidden among the stars, little treasures begging not to be found. She knows how different she looks compared to them, the faint glow that resides beneath her skin, the distinct lack of bags beneath her bright green eyes.
And the thing about this is that it isn’t the whole truth.
They’d say she isn’t haunted, that there are no ghosts that cling to her shadows and trail after her every step, cold breath creeping down her neck, and that’s why she sleeps so well. That’s a lie.
Mizi sleeps well because she sleeps to dream of Sua.
𓆩♡𓆪
These dreams come in abundance; every time she closes her eyes, there she is, smiling back at her with warmth enough to thaw the frigidness in her heart.
Sometimes they’re young again, running barefoot through hills covered with soft, green grass, flopping down in the shade of a massive tree, romping through the creek and splashing each other with joy. Mizi’s joy is innocent and free as she dashes alongside her friend, her feet feeling so light that she swears she has wings.
Sometimes they’re a little older, talking quietly side by side, practicing their songs. Mizi’s voice lifts in chorus and Sua’s twines around her own, formulating the perfect harmony. When Mizi peaks over to give Sua a shy smile, she finds that her friend’s gaze traps her in its tender earnestness.
Maybe she should’ve realized back then that Sua meant to die for her. But how could she have? How could Mizi know, how could Sua mean it? They were just kids then. She still felt like a kid now.
In one dream, one that genuinely hurts Mizi, they’re old. Older, as old as they could’ve been, if Mizi had been just a little smarter, just a little faster, just a little more determined.
Sua’s face is traced with smile lines yet her eyes are luminous, making Mizi feel almost drunk off the feeling of love. Mizi’s own bones creak and her hands shake, but when Sua places her own trembling hand atop Mizi’s, she knows with startling clarity one simple thing.
She’s right where she belongs. This is where she belongs, the life she should’ve lived.
Mizi wakes up from that dream with tears still streaming down her face, a faint smile on her face.
She doesn’t dare write it down, the way she knows some of the others do. She won't ever forget, and she would hate to lose the magic.
She only has so much magic left.
𓆩♡𓆪
Mizi holds on to every scrap of magic she has left.
When she cuts her hair short, she drags her fingers along the uneven edges and closes her eyes, remembering Sua. When she drifts off to sleep, she holds her arms tight around her body, remembering the way Sua used to hold her. When she eats, she remembers what Sua tasted like, and when she breathes, her lungs fill with the air that Sua should be breathing with her.
A fact that Mizi knows to be true: if it wasn’t for this, she would wish she was dead. But she doesn’t know what comes after death, and she doesn’t want it if she won’t see Sua.
Instead, she drinks in the presence of her ghost. She lets it fill her up, envelop her in its cold embrace, suffuse through every single one of her senses.
Mizi doesn’t care if she drowns in Sua’s absence. At least then she’ll know they’ll always be together.
𓆩♡𓆪
Mizi wouldn’t give up her ghost for anything.
She almost likes the pain that runs through her heart whenever she catches a glimpse of short, dark hair or a flash of deep purple. She relishes in the way her pulse stutters. It reminds her that it was real, that she had someone to love and someone to lose.
If only she hadn’t lost her.
“It’s okay,” the boy says, misinterpreting the look in her eyes. The fear in his eyes has ebbed slightly, making room for something else, something that Mizi hates: pity.
“I hope… I hope you can forget about it all one day,” he goes on, casting a dreamy look up at the stars above them. Mizi sees ghosts around his own life, unwilling to let him go. “I hope you’ll feel better.”
Unsure of what to say, Mizi only smiles. She knows that this isn’t what she wants for herself. Her hope is simple.
She hopes it never stops hurting. She hopes she never feels better.
She hopes Sua never leaves her behind.