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Cold.
It’s the only word Mizi can use to describe the girl in front of her, a mere few inches away, separated by two panels of glass and what feels like an entire universe.
Her plain, unassuming box. Her eyes, dark as an abyss, void of any emotion. She breathes shallowly, like the ruffles of her dress are suffocating her, and yet, despite her cold demeanour, the sight of another human warms Mizi’s heart.
Mizi's palm presses against the glass of her own box, trying to reach for her. The other girl finally looks up, surprise coating her features, and when she tries to reach back, Mizi thinks that perhaps the universe might not be so far away after all.
And then they are torn apart, the distance between them growing impossibly large, and Mizi bangs her fist on the glass in her desperation to reach for her again. Her eyes well up with tears, an emotion she still can't name engulfing her wholly.
Bye bye, she thinks, wailing. As the other girl fades into the abyss, Mizi swears she will carve her face into her memory—of porcelain skin and jet black hair, the stars twinkling behind her lonesome figure.
“Why do you like the stars so much, Mizi?” Ivan asks.
They’re sitting together under a tree, peering up at the endless night sky. When Ivan is here, it always ends up with just the two of them—Till doesn’t like the dark, for some reason, and Sua says she doesn’t want to hang out with Ivan.
Mizi hums, stretching a hand out to the sky. They sparkle beyond her grasp, and it’s unlike anything she’s ever seen here at Anakt. They’re not pretty like the flowers, or calming like the rivers, but they’re a special kind of beauty that draws her in.
“I don’t know,” she replies. “Aren’t they nice to look at?”
“They are,” Ivan agrees easily. He copies her action, reaching out and pretending to close his fist around one of the stars. Mizi giggles. “But you can’t even touch them.”
Her arm drops by her side. “I guess so,” she relents. “But they’re always there, right? They never leave you. That’s nice.”
Every night, without fail, the stars will come out of the shadows, lovely and invigorating. And every morning, when the stars have retreated, Mizi will see Sua waiting for her in the garden, her hands clasped behind her back and a sweet smile on her lips.
The stars are a certainty, Mizi decides. And if it’s one place she could choose to live outside of Anakt Garden, it would be up in the sky, where the universe waits.
When she looks over, Ivan has an odd, light frown on his face. It disappears the moment they make eye contact, though, and he sighs, ruffling her hair lightly. “Okay, Mizi. Whatever you say.”
“Do you know what they say about the ones who die?”
Mizi rolls over, the soft blades of grass tickling her skin, until she’s facing Sua. Sua herself is looking up, her hands resting on her chest. Her eyes are a dark, almost midnight shade of purple, and if Mizi looks close enough, she thinks she can see the stars reflected in her irises.
It’s a rather morbid question, but then again, Mizi has gotten used to Sua’s random bursts of introspection. She hums, shifting so that she’s mimicking Sua’s position and laying on her back.
“They say that those who die are turned into cosmic dust. Millions of little specks, so small that you can barely see them.” To emphasise her point, Sua plucks out a blade of grass, holding it up. Then, with nimble fingers, she rips the small blade up, until it’s crumbling apart and fluttering onto their bodies. “Those little specks of dust get tossed into the sky, somewhere far far away. Eventually, when they collect, they form dust balls, which are what we see as stars.”
“Huh.” Mizi traces a constellation with her eyes. “So the stars are just… us?”
“Just us,” Sua confirms. She wrinkles her nose. “But that’s not really nice to think about, is it?”
Mizi huffs out a laugh. “You’re the one who started talking about it!”
She sits up, drawing her knees to her chest and looking over at Sua. Sua’s hair is a mess against the ground, fanning around her face. She’s still fiddling with the bits of grass she tore and Mizi takes her hand, swiping them away, before lacing their fingers together.
“If anything, I think it’s kinda nice that the stars used to be people. It’s like they’re watching over us, waiting for us to join them,” she muses. “Maybe they’re the Gods of the universe.”
Sua’s lips part in surprise. And then she smiles, and it’s ethereal and breathtaking and Mizi’s chest aches a little at how much she likes her.
“That’s a nice belief,” Sua agrees. The conversation dies there—Mizi drops back down, brings their interlocked hands to her chest, and breathes softly.
Mizi hugs the fish to her chest, loud sobs wracking her body. Its cool skin stings against her warm one, and devastation rushes through her with the force of a typhoon. From beside her, Sua gives her a sympathetic expression, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"It's okay, Mizi," she tries to assure. "There are many more fish in the river."
Mizi turns to her with pitiful, wet eyes, and blubbers, "But I like this one!"
She's been visiting this fish for the past few days whenever she had the time, playing with it and watching it swim back and forth. She knows it's the same fish because it has a slight defect in its tail—the edge of the caudal fin is chipped on the top. When the fish swims, it wobbles, but the fact that it's still living made Mizi like it the most.
Today, when she visited, the fish was floating lifelessly, hovering on the surface. Mizi scooped the fish out of the water with a sorrowful cry, hugging it to her chest, and prayed for it to come back to life.
"It's gone for good," Sua tells her when she won't stop whispering for it to come back. She isn't saying it to be mean, but Mizi feels irrationally upset anyway. "It was defective anyway. And it's just a rob—"
"Who cares what was wrong with it?" Mizi says fiercely. She hugs the fish tighter to her chest. A droplet of water falls onto her clothes. "It was happy here in the river. It deserves to live!"
Sua frowns deeply. The expression melts away soon enough, though, replaced by a gentle, placating smile. "You're right," she agrees, and she pulls Mizi into a hug.
The fish slips from her grasp as she hugs Sua back, burying her wet face into her shoulder. Sua strokes a hand up and down her back soothingly. Mizi pouts and cries until she doesn't have any more tears to give, and when they pull away, she feels a little better.
"Is it stupid to cry over this, Sua?" she asks, rubbing her eyes. Ivan would probably make fun of her, and Till wouldn't know what to respond with. She can only ask Sua.
"Of course not," Sua says. "But don't worry."
She always says not to worry. Mizi always believes her.
Sua lifts a finger and points it to the sky, where it's still bright and breezy. "The fish isn't really gone. It's waiting for you with the stars, remember?"
It was her own theory, but for some reason, it doesn't feel as comforting to hear it aloud as to think about it. Still, Mizi swallows harshly and nods. "Yeah. With the stars."
Sua chuckles. "Exactly. And it's a very patient fish, so don't head up to the stars too soon, okay?"
She smiles sweetly, and Mizi's lips wobble as she smiles back. "The same goes for you, Sua!"
When Sua dies, the stars surround her lifeless frame, and it feels like the sickest mockery to be watched over as Mizi grieves.
“Mizi,” Hyuna calls softly, poking her head into the room. “The boys and I are heading out for a drive. It’s a nice night. Do you want to come?”
“Oh, sure,” Mizi mumbles, looking up. Hyuna grabs her wrist and doesn’t really give her a chance to change her mind before she’s being tugged out of the room.
There are already two bikes waiting outside when they arrive. Dewey and Isaac are on one, and Hyuna guides her onto the other, letting her hold on to her waist. Once they’re ready, they drive out of base and out into the open.
Not just 'the open' like Anakt Garden, but the real open. The actual universe and everything beyond. Mizi still has to remind herself that this is real, sometimes, and that everything she saw around her when growing up was simply a lie.
The wind whips past her hair as they drive. Isaac drives on ahead, leading the way. She doesn’t know if they’ll just end up at a bar again, but she wouldn’t be surprised.
“Hey, Mizi,” Hyuna says. “The stars are nice today.”
It’s an offhand comment, stated as simply as one would when talking about the time or the weather, but Mizi can’t help the pang in her chest anyway. A rush of resentment washes over her, trying to cover up the actual emotion bubbling in her chest—a fierce, undying grief.
Still, Mizi looks up. Indeed, the stars are lovely. They’re even better than whatever faux projection it was that the aliens showed them. The sky is clearer than she can ever imagine, and the stars fade in and out of sight as the clouds drift by. They’re a beacon of hope to some, and simply a pretty view to many else.
Mizi of a few months ago would’ve fawned over them as well. She’d bring a jar to the river, where the star’s reflections are smattered on the surface of the water, and try to scoop them up. She’d probably cry when she realises she can’t, and Sua or someone else will comfort her—
Sua.
The name tastes like copper on her tongue. Mizi chews the inside of her cheek.
Whenever Mizi pictures her, she pictures her by her features—the shimmer of her dress, the gentle smile she wears like a glove, and the twinkle of her eyes. She hears her sometimes, too, especially at night, when the phantom touch of her hands wrap around her shoulder and her chest and squeeze. When she thinks of Sua, she hears the tender, sweet melody of her voice, and it's like a haunting lullaby she keeps playing on loop.
“Hyuna,” Mizi asks, her voice devoid of any emotion, “do you think it’s possible to visit the stars?”
Hyuna’s body tenses visibly. She speeds up, and the cold sting of the wind on her cheeks is a welcome distraction from the echo of Sua’s laughter in her head.
“Possibly,” Hyuna replies after a while. “If we could fly to a different planet one day, we could definitely visit the stars on the way.”
“I see.”
“Do you like them?” Hyuna asks. She glances back for just a second, and through the reflection of her dark sunglasses, Mizi sees herself. She sees the misery etched in her eyes and the permanent frown between her eyebrows and the downturn of her lips, and she thinks, with a wave of spite— this is what you’ve done to me.
Mizi takes a while to reply. “Not really,” she admits. “They’re not really nice to think about.”
Hyuna makes a confused sort of noise, but she doesn’t prod, and Mizi remains grateful for it. As the drive continues, Mizi looks to where the stars hang in the sky and thinks of Sua dangling from above. Even the tiniest parts of Sua’s soul must be up there somewhere, scattered across the universe.
Mizi feels surrounded by her, and it isn’t the comfort she thought it’d provide. Instead, it gets under her skin and presses uncomfortably against her organs, seering through her body. She wishes she could remove the feeling, because maybe then it’d make loving Sua easier to handle.
Mizi, she hears, the voice sinking into her like a heavy, agonising weight, I'm waiting for you. Will you come visit me?
“No,” Mizi whispers, and it’s an act of defiance as much as it is an act of grief. “I refuse.”
She swears the stars get a little dimmer after that.