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It was a particularly mundane day.
At least, it would be if not for the threat of elimination hanging over their heads.
Pin yawned, treading lightly so as to not disturb Gaty. Despite the Cake at Stake being just around the corner, however, she couldn’t let her be in a sweet euphoria of sleep forever. Gently, she poked at Gaty’s cheek until she stirred and eventually woke up. “Morning,” she said, giving a sheepish, yet warm smile.
Gaty blinked until her vision started to become clearer, spotting Pin in the corner of her eye. “Morning,” she replied back, stretching as her joints popped. “Did you sleep well?” she asked.
Pin blushed subtly. That whole night was a blur in her memory, and yet the warmth still lingered. For once in her life, she felt truly vulnerable. She was stripped of every ounce of her bearings and at her lowest in a good while, but Gaty helped manage it greatly and keep her calm.
It was funny; she felt much more free, more fragile with someone she’s only known for 7 years than she has with someone she’s known for nearly double that time. Not that she didn’t put in any trust to others she’s close with, but it felt like she couldn’t talk judgement-free until Gaty came into the equation.
It felt like she lived life trapped in a glass case; she always kept people at arm’s length. Coiny was an exception until now, and even then, it still felt like there was a barrier around her she can’t break without hurting herself. Gaty was the counterpoint of that in her eyes; a way to hit the glass with a hammer and finally, finally free her after an eternity.
Waking up to Gaty in the morning was a great distraction from the wasteland that was a result of the storm. “Yeesh,” Pin grimaced.
“Maybe some cleaning up would be cathartic?” Gaty asked, grabbing a trash bag.
As they both started to clean up the storm, Pin felt a lot more inclined to open up. “I feel like I’ve been relying on you for comfort too much,” she confessed, fidgeting with her hands. “Since Coiny got eliminated…it feels like I’ve been at rock bottom for the first time in a while. I keep thinking I’ll become…” she paused, looking much more ashamed. Her throat closed around the words she wanted to finish the sentence with.
“I don’t want to lose you too,” she finally replied.
“I know. It’s a bummer when you lose a friend in this game,” Gaty replied, picking a few scraps off the ground. “Unless they rejoin, you have to keep going and win or wait until your turn comes.” She paused to look at Pin, seeing her flinch slightly. “Even then, look how far you’ve come without him, Pin! I’m sure he’ll be proud of you when he sees you again one way or another.”
“Yeah,” Pin said, a slight smile forming on her face before contorting back into worry. “What am I gonna do if I lose you too, though? I’ll have to lead all on my own, and I’ll never be as vulnerable with the rest of my team to open up about my struggles as I am with—“
Pin’s breath hitched as Gaty took her hand to ground her. “It’ll be okay,” she said, gently trying to stop Pin from spiraling. “You work well as a team leader, and if I am gone, you’ll see us again eventually.” She gave Pin an earnest smile. “It’s not the end of the world, is it?”
Pin smiled foolishly at that. Oh, the irony.
—
A year and 40 days. 405.
She gripped the picture frame tightly, a faint sheen of green on the edges. It felt like Gaty lied. It was something she didn’t understand; she finally found someone who supported her unconditionally and without fear of judgement, and she disappeared in a blink.
It wasn’t fair. The very glass case someone else managed to shatter when others could only crack it felt like it was coming back together. It only felt like she was rusting away in the rain.
“Pin?” A familiar, gruff voice came from outside her locked door. “You ready to come out now? We still need help with the door.”
She sighed in exasperation, prying herself out of her bed. All she can do now is wait and pray someone will free her again.