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Two weeks after Hyuna rescues her, Mizi begins to dream.
She’s standing on stage, hair tumbling down her back. The spotlight shines over her, the only sun she’s ever known. There is no one in the audience.
Mizi’s heart lifts. She turns instinctively, dress whipping around her knees, and meets Sua’s broad smile.
Sua opens her mouth, and the first few notes of Oh, My Clematis drift out of her mouth. Mizi joins in for her part. They twirl gently together on the stage, the only two people in the world.
The song comes to an end, and Sua lets go, reaching up for Mizi’s face. Mizi’s eyes fill with tears.
“Sua,” she breathes, but before she can say anything more, crimson sprays across her vision.
Sua doesn’t collapse. She doesn’t do anything but stand there, a bullet hole in her head, blood streaming down her face like sweat.
“Sua!” Mizi gasps. Her heart thuds in her ears. Sua died. Sua is dead. But she’s standing here, doing—what? What is this? A trick of the Garden? A failsafe in case of escapes?
“Don’t be scared. I’m here,” Sua whispers. Her eyes are still the same—soft, warm, adoring. “I’ll always be here, Mizi. No matter what.”
Mizi wakes up crying, a scream trapped behind her teeth.
—
“We all dream, you know.”
Mizi looks up from polishing her guns, meeting the sympathetic smile of a fellow soldier. She doesn’t remember her name. She doesn’t know which school she’s from, or if she was even brought up in a school. She doesn’t remember her competing, either.
It’s a weird feeling not to know someone. She was forced to know everyone in the confines of Anakt Garden, even when she didn’t want to.
(Ruler of my heart, ruler of my heart. The mockery of a smile. The sensual brush of a body against hers. Dead eyes. Dead eyes. Dead eyes.)
Mizi shakes her head.
“Excuse me?” she asks.
She gestures to the bags under Mizi's eyes. Mizi’s shoulders climb to her ears. She feels horribly vulnerable.
“We all dream,” she repeats gently. “Of the people we lost, of how we grew up. It’s especially worse right after we escape. Even when we’re not physically there, they still have part of us. They still make us suffer.” Her mouth twists, expression suddenly sharp with rage. Mizi feels that anger land in her own chest, where it rings like a bell. She bares her teeth, and she grins back, approving.
“It’ll get better,” she says. He nods at her guns, eyes gleaming. “Especially when you shoot some bullets into their skulls.”
(Sua, eyes rolling back, collapsing. Sua, standing, blood pouring down her face, smiling. Sua, saying, “I’ll always be here, Mizi.”)
For a moment, something flickers in her peripheral vision—a white dress, drifting around a corner. Heart jackhammering in her throat, she turns her head quickly and sees—nothing.
Mizi swallows down a dizzying wave of nausea. She turns back to the woman, who still watches her patiently, and nods sharply.
The soldier leaves, and Mizi goes back to cleaning her guns. Her hands don’t stop trembling for hours.
—
“Sua,” Mizi gasps.
Sua’s hands climb higher under Mizi’s shirt, up her back, curving around her shoulders. Her touch is ice; Mizi can’t stop shivering. She closes her eyes in pleasure as Sua presses a blisteringly cold kiss to her jaw, then lower. “Sua, wait.”
Sua pulls back with a moue. She looks so much like she did when she was alive. “What is it?”
Mizi pauses. That’s right. Sua is dead, and this is a dream. Sua has a bullet in her head; if Mizi looks close enough, she can see Sua’s forehead warp to reveal viscous blood.
“It’s nothing,” Mizi says eventually. “Just…I miss you.” A lump rises in her throat, and she leans into the crook of Sua’s neck. “I miss you so much. So, so fucking much.”
Sua hugs her close. Her nails against Mizi’s sides feel like tiny knives, they’re so frigid.
“I don’t know how to go on, sometimes,” Mizi gasps, shuddering. “I think of you every day, and it feels like I won’t survive the grief.”
“I’m here, Mizi,” Sua murmurs, rocking them back and forth. “I’ll always be here.”
“I thought I saw you yesterday,” Mizi says. “In real life. In the compound.”
Sua doesn’t answer.
“Was it you?” Mizi asks, suddenly desperate. “Was it? It can’t have been, right? You’re dead.”
Sua is still silent.
“You’re dead,” Mizi says again. “But you’re in my dreams, and I remember you, and I saw you. I saw you. But you’re dead.”
Tears drip down Mizi’s cheeks, freezing as Sua’s lips follow them. Sua pulls Mizi close, still not saying a word, and holds her until she wakes up.
—
Mizi loves cleaning duty. Nothing soothes her mind like scrubbing floors late at night and collapsing into bed hours later, the satisfying heaviness in her muscles quickly pulling her into sleep.
She hums under her breath, vague and meaningless melodies that sputter out into nothing. Mizi lives to sing—literally, she supposes darkly, but also in the way where music is a part of her, her truest form of expression. Music is what connects her to Sua.
And even though she dreams, of Sua every night, grief threatens to fell Mizi at the knees. She braces herself on the floor with her hands and closes her eyes, breathing in the scent of chlorine deeply.
“Oh, my clematis,” she sings to herself, softly, and then sings the full first verse, imagining Sua’s rich voice. The memory hurts, but she continues, revelling in the ache. This is what she has of Sua here.
Oh, my clematis.
Mizi’s eyes snap open.
“Sua?” she says sharply.
The room is dark and empty in front of her.
“Sua? Are you there?”
Silence.
Mizi sings the next verse, then the full song, looking around intently. She brushes away tears, impatient. She didn’t imagine that voice. She didn’t.
“Sua,” she calls, over and over, searching every corner of the room for a sign. A silhouette, a shadow, a voice, something.
“Um,” comes a voice, and Mizi whirls around to face the door. A young woman stares at her nervously. “I’m here to take over morning shift.”
Mizi startles. She’s been here for hours? She lost so much time—how did that happen?
“Sorry,” she says numbly. “I’m done here. I’ll clear up and go.”
Mizi returns to her room feeling raw. She tumbles into bed and closes her eyes.
—
They’re on stage again, but now, they face each other on opposite ends. Mizi feels off-balance. She wants to run towards Sua. She wants to run away.
“I heard you last night,” Mizi says.
Sua drifts closer.
“In the cafeteria. I heard you sing.” Mizi watches Sua come closer, dread mixing with elation in her stomach.
There is no warmth emanating from Sua’s body, from her hands when she takes Mizi’s, just as always. She feels like empty air.
“Sua,” Mizi says. “Are you actually here?”
“I’m here because you need me, Mizi,” Sua replies. “And I love you.”
Sua leans in and kisses her cheek. Mizi fists one hand in Sua’s collar, the other in her hair and shivers as Sua’s mouth drags down along Mizi’s neck. Mizi shivers, shivers, shivers.
She notices that Sua never comes near her lips.
“I love you,” Mizi gasps, eyes blurring with tears. Sua smiles against her skin. “But I need to know. Are you real?”
Sua steps back, sweeps her gaze over Mizi lovingly. They spend hours, or days, or years staring into each other’s eyes. Mizi never wants to stop. Mizi wants to stop now, because this isn’t right, hasn’t been right. Sua is supposed to be warm, present in a way she isn’t, despite how she acts. Sua is supposed to be alive.
Sua’s face is fond. Something about it sends chills down Mizi’s spine. “Does it matter?” she asks.
Mizi wakes up.
—
“You look like shit.”
Mizi looks up and sees the soldier from the other day. “I feel like it,” she says, too tired to be polite. She hesitates, then gestures for her to sit at the table.
“Name’s Derrick,” she says wryly. “I figured I’d remind you.”
Despite her mood, Mizi laughs. “I needed it,” she admits.
Derrick nods. “So, you’re still not sleeping, huh?”
Mizi grimaces. “Still bad dreams. And a lot of other stuff.”
“You and everyone else here. Sorry.”
Mizi shrugs. “What do people do around here to tire themselves out? Besides, you know, fight, plan rescue attempts, or spar, or clean?”
“You’ve nailed most of the big ones,” Derrick says. She scrunches her nose in thought. “We’re trying to figure that out, honestly. The aliens took over pretty much every aspect of what humans used to do, you know, before, and leading ourselves is kind of new to us.” She chews on her cheek. “I think we have a team in charge of games and entertainment. According to Hyuna, morale is important. We could check them out.”
Mizi can’t help a smile at her casual use of we. “I’m not sure I’m really in the mood for that.”
Derrick blows out a breath. “Well,” she says, casual. “There are other things we could do to help you sleep.”
Mizi frowns at her, then sits up straight. “Oh,” she says. “Oh.”
“No pressure, of course,” Derrick says hastily. “I’m not really looking for anything permanent or anything, and I don’t think you are, either.” She winces. Mizi thinks of her performance with Sua burned on screens all over the universe. “But I don’t sleep well either, and company helps, sometimes.”
“Just company, huh,” Mizi says.
“And other things,” she repeats, smiling.
For one heartstopping moment, Mizi is sorely tempted. A body next to hers, no strings attached, and the chance at a restful sleep almost have her saying yes.
And then she sees Sua watching her across the room.
Sua is hidden in the shadows of the doorway, blending in with the dim gray of the walls. Her expression is calm and sweet, betraying nothing.
Mizi chokes silently, guilt dropping her gullet into the floor. What am I thinking? Oh, what am I thinking?
“No,” she says abruptly. “No, I’m sorry. I—I can’t.”
Derrick nods, easy. “No pressure,” she says. “Want me to take you around base again? I can show you places you probably haven’t seen yet.”
Mizi looks at the door again. Sua is gone.
“Yeah, sure,” she says, shaky, and tries not to run.
—
”I saw you again today,” Mizi says abruptly.
Sua tilts her head. They’re sitting in their field, the artificial green of the garden softened by dream.
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Sua asks.
Mizi pauses.
“I thought you’d be happy to see me,” Sua continues. “I’m here because of you, Mizi. Why aren’t you happy?”
Happy. Sua is right; that’s what Mizi should be feeling. The universe has given her gift—her lover, returned to her, by her side forever.
Mizi’s mouth moves to sound out, “I am happy,” but what comes out is: “Why do you never kiss me?”
Sua raises an eyebrow. “I do kiss you.”
“Not on the lips,” Mizi says. “Not how—” Not how you used to.
Sua watches her carefully. “I think,” she says softly, caressing Mizi’s hair, “that’s a question that you need to answer.”
They spend the rest of the dream sitting in silence, watching the sunset.
—
“Can’t sleep?”
Mizi looks up to see Hyuna peering at her. The lights of the mess hall are dim, and the table she’s occupied is at the far corner of the room. Hyuna must have been searching for her to find her so easily. She shakes her head and scoots over.
Hyuna takes a seat, brushing her long hair back. Unthinkingly, Mizi’s eyes follow the long line of her throat, and then she jerks her eyes away, stomach churning. Sua will see, she thinks, suddenly certain. She looks up, and sure enough, there Sua is, the white of her dress glowing in the darkness.
Mizi has found a pattern. She’s just not sure what it is.
She breathes through a sudden wave of nausea and grief, hugging herself.
“What are you thinking about?” Hyuna murmurs, nudging her.
Mizi takes another breath, expels it in a sigh. “I was thinking about Sua.”
“Ah,” Hyuna says. There’s an eternity of understanding in that simple sound, and Mizi allows herself to crumble just a little bit. She sways into Hyuna’s side, and Hyuna’s arm settles around her.
“Do you believe in ghosts?” Mizi asks.
Hyuna doesn’t react to the question, and Mizi relaxes. She hums out a breath. “When Hyunwoo died,” Hyuna says, “I thought I saw him for weeks afterwards.”
Mizi straightens, heart thumping. “You did?”
“In my dreams, and sometimes, when I was exhausted, in real life, too.” Hyuna’s tone is bland, like she’s reciting the lunch menu. “He didn’t say much. Just stared at me. Smiled. Tried to hold my hand sometimes. When he did speak, though…”
“What?” Mizi asks softly.
“The only thing he said was ‘I love you.’” Hyuna’s eyes shine in the dim light of the room. “It was worse than anything else he could have said.”
“Was he real?”
Hyuna shrugs. “I don’t know. I never had anyone to ask. Who knows if ghosts are real? Humans didn’t used to believe that aliens existed, and look where the hell we are now.”
“I didn’t know that,” Mizi says, wonderingly. To think that the defining powers of their universe were thought to be fiction—the impossibility of the notion leaves her strangely light-headed.
“There’s a lot to be learned from our history,” Hyuna says, smiling a little. “After…” She makes a gesture. “After everything, it’s part of how we’ll rebuild.”
After. What a concept.
“But anyway, he left eventually, but only when I was ready. I was holding onto him, I think, real or not, and that’s why he was here. It wasn’t a bad thing, of course, but…it wasn’t helping me. I kept living in the past, and it was affecting…well, at that time, it was affecting my survival.” Hyuna grits her teeth. “My scores were at an all time low, and I knew I couldn’t keep it up anymore.”
Mizi thinks of hours lost in her head, exhausted sleep, waking up in tears over and over again. She thinks of shaking hands, poor scores during weapons practice. She thinks of grief’s unyielding grip on her throat.
“How did you let him go?” she asks.
Hyuna pauses. “I apologized to him,” she says, quiet. “I vowed revenge. I told him I would protect everyone else like I wasn’t able to protect him, and to do that, he needed to leave and I would be okay.”
“Are you okay?” Mizi asks. It’s a silly question, but Hyuna slumps.
“There are some things that don’t need to be dead to haunt us,” she replies, bitter.
Mizi leans her head into Hyuna’s shoulder. She ignores the flash of black hair in the corner of her eye. “Are they any easier to bear?”
Hyuna is silent for a long moment.
Mizi thinks of Hyuna’s screams after she lost Hyunwoo; the hours she spent crying, the way she isolated herself from the others for weeks, blistering anger in her eyes. She hears the faint song in the back of her mind: ruler of my heart, ruler of my heart. She thinks of how, for all his suave, nauseating charm, Luka never looked anything but dead—except for when he looked at Hyuna.
She remembers how, once, long ago, Hyuna looked back.
“No,” Hyuna says finally, the word falling from her lips like a body dropping to the floor. Guilt writhes in the broken rasp of her voice. Her eyes are very far away. “But I don’t think I want it to be easy. Any of it.”
Another flicker of movement in the shadows. A silhouette of a face in profile, lips quirked. Sua smiles at them, beatific.
“Why?” Mizi breathes.
Hyuna clenches her fists. “Because if it’s not easy, if it hurts, it meant something,” she says, fierce. “And if it meant something, then that means—” Her voice catches. “That means that they didn’t take away my ability to care. It means that I’m still human.”
Mizi closes her eyes against a sudden burn of tears. How is it fair that in this horrible, broken world they’ve been left to save, the only way to stay human is to love to the point of agony?
“We deserve more than that,” she says, quiet.
Hyuna takes her hand and squeezes it. “That’s what we’re fighting for. We’ll have it one day. I promise.”
—
“I love you, Sua,” Mizi says.
“I love you, too,” Sua returns, as easy as breathing.
Mizi catches her hands. “I don’t let you kiss me,” she says. “That’s why you don’t.”
Sua smiles, silently encouraging her to continue.
“I’m punishing myself not by allowing myself to be happy you’re here, real or not,” Mizi continues, voice breaking. “I’m punishing myself because I feel guilty that I couldn’t save you, and I need to atone. I’m punishing myself by holding on and pushing away anything that could help me heal. The pain is all I have left to remember that you meant something, everything, to me, and you always will.”
“I’m here because of you, Mizi, and I always will be,” Sua says, the words as comforting as song.
Mizi smiles against her tears. “I know. I know you will. Because the pain isn’t all that there is. There’s love, too. So much love.” Her mouth trembles. “I think I have to let you go, now, Sua.”
Sua pulls Mizi into her arms. “I know, my love.”
“I’m going to help save everyone, Sua. You’re going to be so proud of me.”
“I already am,” Sua says, and for the first time, her eyes brim with tears. Her hands rise to cradle Mizi’s face, and Mizi leans into her icy touch. “I always will be.”
Mizi leans in and Sua kisses her for the first time, the last time, for as long as the dream lasts.
When she wakes, her lips are cold, and she’s smiling.