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Soleil doesn’t know when they started to fall out of sync.
They used to be inseparable, she remembers. She thinks about how their footsteps used to fall to the same beat, how there never was less than a meter’s space between their hands. Thinks, about how much she relished in knowing that wherever she went, Merise would be right by her.
Soleil doesn't recall when it had ceased.
When a hand about the waist drifted to her elbow, then her wrist, and then nothing at all. When hourly texts dwindled into daily, then weekly, and then stayed empty for more.
She’d asked for it, didn’t she?
Asked for it, begged for it, really, when she stopped opening her chatbox. When she left messages unread overnight. When she stopped seeking her out for company. Of course Merise would take it that way. She can’t blame her, for taking it that way.
Someone once told her distance was the best way to get rid of unwanted feelings. Take some time apart, sort yourself out, they had said. Come back and start afresh.
Is she even allowed to come back, now?
Soleil doesn’t know, so she doesn’t ask.
She shrinks back into herself, doesn’t speak unless she is told to. She meets new people. Convinces herself that they are enough. That they will be enough, to fill this gaping hole in her chest that cannot seem to stay shut, no matter how many stitches she sows over it.
It always comes back to Merise, somehow.
She’d once allowed herself to dwell on it, thinks, Should I have held on tighter? , and immediately banishes the thought. Merise is not an object you own, she chides herself, but a human that has all the right to come and go as she likes . There is nothing she can say about it that wouldn’t be selfish and completely unfair to Merise. No, she won’t do that to her.
It doesn’t kill the emotions taking root in her heart, though.
She has no right to, but envy wells up in her throat when she sees Merise at Baiyu’s table, again, again, again. Déjà vu. She is afraid it will show on her face, afraid they will take one look at it and find out what a disgusting little girl she truly is. She stamps it down, looks away.
She has no right to, but tears bubble up in her eyes when she sees Merise immediately whip her head around to pick Baiyu as her partner. Déjà vu, déjà vu. How long has it been, since that person had been her? How long? She doesn’t want to know.
She hates it. Hates not being able to initiate something without stammering like a little fucking kid, hates not being able to return to being Soleil and Merise. Just the two of them. God, she’s delusional.
Does it sound like she’s in love? Soleil doesn't know.
She can’t see herself sustaining a romantic relationship with her. She can’t see herself wanting to. She doesn’t think she would be suited to it. Merise doesn’t deserve someone so horrible in her life, when all she has done is be so kind.
(If Merise wants a kiss, however, she will gladly give it. And more, if she asks. Soleil has always been weak for her.)
It’s hard to think about being simply friends, though. Friends don’t have the innate need to sow themselves to the other, messily dig the needle through skin and twine their bodies together with thread. Friends don’t have the carnal urge to keep the other away, perhaps lock the both of them away from the world, leaving them alone together, forever. They don’t, don’t they?
Soleil is leaving many answer boxes blank. It’s not a good habit.
Merise is not helping either.
After months and months of barely speaking, many, many moons of one-worded answers and one-worded replies, Merise wraps her arms around her on a random Tuesday. Winds it around her neck and pulls, like a noose, effectively pressing her back flush against her body.
It lasts for a long hundred and twenty-six seconds. The room is hot and stuffy, elbow uncomfortably tight around her neck. Soleil stares at the floor and wills herself to not hope. Greedy girls do not often get what they want, no matter how much they desire it.
What is she doing? What does this mean? What do you want from me?
Perhaps she wants nothing at all. Perhaps it was a one-time thing, and you will go back to pretending they have not known each other since the beginning of time, go back to being silent acquaintances.
Soleil watches her back shrinking away, shoulder pressed to Baiyu’s, and thinks, I am right.
And there is nothing there to be done about it.
Sometimes, Soleil wonders if there is another universe out there. Ignores who was the one who had ignited her curiosity on the topic. It would be interesting to know that there is another you out there. You, but also not.
Maybe, in that other universe, the other Soleil would’ve handled this better.
Maybe the other Soleil knows what name she wants to put on these feelings. She would’ve talked it out, made it clear how she felt to Merise, what she hoped they would do.
Maybe, in that other universe, it would’ve worked out.
Maybe their other versions would’ve made an effort to keep in contact. Maybe they would go out by themselves every once in a while, just the two of them. Watch a movie, walk around a mall aimlessly. Soleil and Merise.
It sounds good.
Too bad it isn’t here.
Soleil doesn’t realise she’s been staring out into empty space until a hand shakes her shoulder. “Sol, Sol—” She jerks, as if suddenly awakening from a stupor, eyes wide and flickering. It is quickly schooled into a neutral expression. Soleil has gotten better at this. “Hm?”
“You good?” There is something in her tone that Soleil hasn’t heard in a long, long time. “You looked a bit out of it.” Soleil shakes her head, smiles. “No, no, I’m fine."
“If you’re sure about that,” Merise says, brow raised. She pats her shoulder, once, twice, and walks away.
Watching her make the familiar route to Baiyu’s desk, Soleil thinks, I want you to be my —
She closes her eyes.