Chapter Text
The bow atop your head could be straighter. The loose hairs spawning from your scalp could be neater. You stick out your tongue and check your teeth for blemishes. They could be lighter. Time to switch toothpastes again? All this back and forth between different products can’t be good for your teeth. But! How can you settle on just one? This one says “Best teeth-lightening paste in Vaugarde” but that one says “Dentist-recommended for teeth-lightening.” Which can you really trust? Have you even been keeping track of how light your teeth have been? Were they the same when you first started brushing your teeth at the tender age of… three? Four? You should have paid more attention all the while.
(This isn’t important right now.)
The face in the mirror stares back at you with contempt. You hate how much your lip quivers at every passing thought. Each nail on your dark fingers ends in jagged marks from where you couldn’t stop chewing. It’s a gross habit, really. You can still hear Maman’s voice as she scolded you, “Put your hands in your pockets, Mirabelle! What will people think if they see you like that?”
Memories of home flood your vision, dancing in the light of your eyes: a quiet garden, a pearlescent kitchen, a quiet bedroom where the sunlight poured in while you hid under your bed as the screams of downstairs-arguments gnawed away at your skull, tears drenching your hands as you wept and wept and wept-
(This isn’t important right now.)
Deep breaths. That’s what you always need. Keep breathing and peace will follow-suit. You need to be at your best. You need to make a good first-impression. If you don’t, if you mess this up? Consequences will follow. Amete wants you to like their new partner. Amete wants you all to be friends. That’s not hard, right? You’ve made lots of new friends since first coming to Dormont. Seems like so long ago, but you’ve come out better for it all. People like you. And! What’s not to like? You’re nice. You’re generous. You’re a little uptight. You’re anxious. You’re directionless. You’re hopeless. You’re-
…You’re not going to make a good first impression, are you?
Amete will walk in, hand-in-hand with their partner and say, “Hello, Mirabelle! Please allow me to introduce Saavi. She’s my romantic partner. She’s very important to me.”
You’ll shake her hand and grip too tightly or not smile enough or blink too much or not make eye-contact, and you’ll say, “Hello, Saavi! I’m Mirabelle. Please don’t take Amete away from me.”
.
.
.
That’s it, isn’t it? Ever since Amete and Saavi started seeing each other, Amete hasn’t been around as often as you’d like. They miss book-club meetings (reading alone isn’t so bad!), they eat fewer meals with you (you prefer to eat in your room, anyway!), and you don’t go birdwatching with them anymore (there’ll always be someone else to watch birds with!).
Sure, birdwatching was just you two sitting on a bench in Dormont, saying “Piou piou!” Whenever a bird landed in the grass near your feet. You didn’t do much else on those days but they were special to you. The wind felt nice, the sun was always warm, and you simply enjoyed each other’s company. You used to love Tuesdays. Always something to look forward to after a busy day of classes and volunteer-work and prayer. Mirabelle and Amete: resident ornithologists of Dormont.
Then Saavi came along.
She lives in Alambrielle, the closest city north of Dormont. Amete started heading to the city every weekend, which is fine because you don't spend much time together on the weekends anyway. Sometimes you do, but you rotate your friends as often as you can to treat them all equally. You wouldn’t be a very good friend if you spent more time with one over another. They’d notice how you valued them, you’re sure of it. You remember when you kept track of every hour spent with every friend in a journal. That was helpful! It felt good to catalogue it all, and a shining glimmer of satisfaction would burst from your chest when you had a perfectly balanced week.
That all ended when Claude found it. She held it up to you with a scowl, revolted at the very idea of your charts and logs. “What in Change is this?” She waves it in front of you like a parent with a bad report card. “You track your friendships?!”
It wasn’t like you and your roommate were particularly good friends. You were once told that bunking long-term with someone you like could damage the friendship. Luckily you didn’t get a chance to become Claude’s friend before becoming roommates. You don’t know if you’d have liked her much. You tried to! You always do. Best foot forward. Put the effort in and the results will yield themselves.
You stare at her incredulously, eyes darting between your open journal and her grimace. “Yes?” Why is she so mad?
“This is too much, even for you.” She puts the book down on your desk and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Why?”
Such a simple question with such an obvious answer. “So I can treat all my friends equally? So none of them feel left out or forgotten?” A foreign chill dances in the small of your back but it vanishes before you can identify it.
Claude sighs and says, “Alright, Plums.” Her friendly nickname for you based on one of your perfumes. Strange how she only uses it when she’s mad. “You can’t treat your friendships like a class schedule.”
Why not? She stands over you and traps you behind your desk. You know you’ll stammer if you speak. Best course of action is silence.
“Nothing to say? Fine. Answer this:” She flips a page in the journal and lines the list of names with her finger. “Maku. You spent an hour with her yesterday, then an hour with Hewkii immediately afterward. Why the sudden switch?”
A small smile crosses your face and you easily answer, “Maku and I were fishing, then Hewkii wanted to show me some new rocks he added to his collection.”
Claude blinks, “It took an hour to look at rocks?”
You offer a nervous laugh and rub the back of your neck, “Ah, w-well, no. But I kept asking more and more questions.”
Her shoulders slack and her tone of voice surprisingly softens. “You wanted to stretch out the time?”
“...Of course?” Why isn’t this as obvious to her as it is to you? “O-Otherwise, he’d think I liked Maku more than him.”
“Do you?”
You open your mouth to answer but nothing comes. You would never admit the truth, that you’d wanted to spend the rest of the day fishing with Maku rather than looking at rocks. But!!! That wouldn’t be fair to Hewkii! You don’t want any of your friends to think you’re not doing enough for them. If you don’t spend equal time with them, how will they know how much you care? How will they know how much they mean to you? How will you keep them with you? The things they find in you, the support and love and trust: How will you stop them from finding those things in others? Others that would take them away from you?
…Hewkii and Maku started a romantic relationship soon after your conversation with Claude. You haven’t picked up your fishing rod in a while, and you’re slowly forgetting the difference between igneous and sedimentary rocks.
(This isn’t important right now.)
With a blink and a gasp, you’re standing in front of your bathroom mirror again. The memories are buried by the anxious voice in your head. You splash your face with water. Don’t think about what Claude said, that you can’t balance friendships like weights on a scale. “Trying to control everything will just push people away.” She sounded like she spoke from experience, but she never seemed the type of person to put much stock in friendship. Maybe she used to feel differently. Maybe that’s why she Changed.
Maybe you pushed Maku and Hewkii away from you and toward each other-
(THIS ISN’T IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW.)
Right. Focus. Amete will be back soon with Saavi in tow. To introduce you to her. To go out for lunch, the three of you. You have to look your best. You have to curb your anxiety. You have to be good enough. The alternative isn’t something you want to think about.
As you straighten your shawl and tighten your belt, you wonder if you’ll lose your love for birdsong. Sure, they have a simple language. But you and Amete were slowly becoming experts at identifying different species based on their calls. Maybe it was real birdwatching. Maybe it was more than just hanging out. It never started out that way. Of course, you didn’t know Amete had a different intent for bringing you to the bench in town, surrounded by tall trees and the House standing in the distance against a light sky.
They suggested it. Amete was the one who asked first - you’d never have had the courage to do so. Letting others invite you is easier. Because, if you invite them, what if they say no? What if you start manipulating them? You’d ask, “Would you like to hang out together? You don’t have to. No pressure. It’s okay if you’re busy!” Your favorite phrase. You need to tell them all how important it is for them to say no. Isn’t that the right thing to do? No one should feel obligated to hang out with you.
But once that became your signature catchphrase, you started to analyze your words. The first part was a genuine question. Most people would stop after asking it. But not you! You have to clarify. You have to remind them that their time is valuable. If they choose to hang out with you, you’d be over the moon with joy. If they don't, they’ll know that you’re okay with it! Because you told them, “It’s okay to say no and I will be okay and I won’t be sad and I won’t lie in bed awake staring at a dark ceiling for hours on end wondering if I wasn’t good enough or worth hanging out with and eventually you’ll all figure out that I’m wearing my own skin as if it was someone else’s like some horrible imposter that’ll never let go of you.”
…Sometimes you think the imposter will be your only friend, the only one who will tolerate you.
So, you started letting others ask you first. And! They did! They do! People come to you all the time and ask to hang out. Sure, they don’t add the dozens of caveats that you did. And even better that you would always say yes and make time for them. Sometimes they’d look at you funny when you pulled out your journal and explained when you were free. Claude might have been right, that it was a weird habit.
So, Amete asked you first. “Hey, w-wanna go birdwatching?” You never realized how nervous they were. In that moment, you were just excited to be invited. In that moment, you were loved. It always feels nice! That’s probably selfish, others might get that same pleasure from being invited and you’re denying them that by not asking first.
Sometimes it’s okay to be selfish, right? To take care of yourself first? That’s what Papa always says. It’s the motto of Search and Rescue. “In an emergency situation, you must save yourself first. You can’t save anyone else if you’re dead.” Most days, you aren’t strong enough to apply that to your daily life. He’s so much braver than you. You always wanted to be more like him but things never panned out that way. You were dealt the hand you deserved.
But Amete still wanted to hang out with you (you, the coward draped in nerves and chipped nails). You happily said yes. Immediately, their posture straightened and they stopped toying with their fingers. Their smile was warbly but the light in their eyes shined through. “Okay, great!” Why is their voice shaking so much? You’ve been friends for years.
The first time you birdwatched together was quiet. Amete only spoke occasionally, and you didn’t know what to say. You usually let others take the lead in conversations. Maybe Amete was mad and didn’t know how to tell you. Maybe they were trying to find the nicest way to end your friendship. You must have done something wrong. How could you have not? Every second watching those birds and not talking, you had all the time in the world to search your brain for evidence backing up your crimes. You were the prime suspect and the investigator creating your own scenarios and filling in the gaps with superficial evidence. It’s almost a talent.
But they kept asking you to go birdwatching. They spoke a little more each time. Because you’re friends! Friends talk! That’s good, that means they haven’t figured out you’re an imposter. Not yet, anyway.
The third time you hung out, Amete brought an ornithology book and you both learned a little more about avians. The fourth time, they sat a little closer to you on the bench. You didn’t mind! It’d be nice to hug them but you don’t want to overstep. The fifth time…
You don’t like to think about it.
The wind is warm in the shining spring sun. Each bird is quieter than normal, like they all know Amete has something important to say. You didn’t even realize until they quietly asked, “Can I tell you something?”
You turn to face them and they avert their gaze. Amete always struck you as someone confident, why are they so meek? They don’t seem angry. That’s good! But something is bothering them. You give them your full attention. This is obviously something important.
They fiddle their thumbs in their lap and take a few breaths. “You’re my friend. I’m really grateful for that.”
Your smile pushes your cheeks up into your eyes. You want to reach out and say the same, but you recognize that they need time to talk and work through their thoughts. There will be plenty of time to tell them afterward.
“Well, see, I-I’ve been thinking a lot. About you.” They still won’t look up at you. Where are they going with this? Amete stammers, “A-And, how much I like talking to you. You have such a pretty voice, a-and you’re so nice…” Their voice lowers to a whisper, “And… and you’re very beautiful.”
.
.
.
Your insides are condensing into each other, pulled and pushed around the trappings of your flesh. Every muscle in your body tenses and your jaw aches. This was not a conversation you expected. Not one you even wanted. And, why is your body so reactive? Why do you suddenly feel the undying urge to run?!
You hide your collapsing chest cavity behind a sterile smile. They’re still talking. You want them to stop. Amete finally looks up at you, stars in their eyes behind their shaggy dark hair, and says, “I-I don’t want to ruin our friendship. But I can’t keep denying how I feel about you. It’s not fair to you. T-To either of us! Because, I don’t want to keep secrets from you.”
You have never wanted to vanish so quickly or so completely. If only there was some kind of Craft you could use to get out of this conversation. Something that can freeze Amete in time, giving you a chance to run away, and then they’d wake up and say “Huh, where did Mirabelle go? I guess I’ll just forget about this harrowing conversation and pretend it never happened.” You can find a hole to bury yourself in. You haven’t been this afraid since that tornado ripped through your hometown when you were small - too small to remember anything beyond terror.
But… That was a tangible thing. Something dangerous. Something your instincts told you to avoid at all costs.
Amete is your friend. How are they drawing that same terror out of your chest? That sense of absolute wrong? It doesn’t… it doesn’t make sense.
With newfound confidence and straightened posture, Amete boldly asks, “Would you be interested in becoming more than friends?”
Behind your closed lips you bite down on your tongue to stop yourself from screaming. More?! But, you’re great friends already! There doesn’t need to be more! You love them! And they love you! You love your friends with very fiber in your body. You didn’t want things to Change! You-
…You…
.
.
.
Everything is supposed to Change, isn't it? You've always preached it. You believe it with all your heart. It's a force that drives you, and the whole world. It's something to embrace! You should be so happy that Amete confessed their feelings for you. This is a beautiful opportunity to Change!
So… why are you afraid?
Why are you nauseous?
Why does it feel
so
wrong?
It shouldn't be wrong. Maybe you just don’t like Amete in that way. If not Amete, then there’s someone else who will stir romantic feelings in your heart. There just has to be! You’ve read so many books about love and romance and other such things. You’re a student of it. You stare blankly into Amete’s eyes and scan your brain. Becoming… involved… with any of your friends like that… Surely one of them excites you?
Just one?
.
Someone?
.
Anyone?
.
(w h a t i s w r o n g w i t h y o u)
.
“Mirabelle?” Amete tilts their head. “A-Are you listening?”
Trapped in your thoughts again. They deserve an answer. Even if you’re having a crisis of faith or a panic attack or a major wound to your self-worth or whatever’s going on in your unchanging brain: none of it matters! You’ve read many books where romance blossoms. There are fewer still where characters are turned down. You have no experience in this. Channeling those stories is your only option.
You smile (though you want to scream) and say, “Amete, you’re very important to me, too.” You’re desperate not to stammer so you clench your fists until your jagged nails leave deep impressions in your palms. “B-But I think we should just stay friends.”
They chuckle weakly and blink, “I guess it was too much to hope that I’m your type.”
(Type? Do people have those? Should you? You should probably figure that out sooner, rather than later.)
Amete takes a deep breath, “Well, whoever you end up with will be a very lucky person. I hope…” Their shoulders slack and they try to smile. You easily see through it. “I hope knowing how I feel about you doesn’t change our friendship. I just couldn’t lie to you anymore.”
“O-Oh! I don’t feel like you lied to me.” You desperately try to reassure them, “I’m happy to spend time with you.” You start to reach out your hand toward them but quickly pull it back. Holding hands with your friends is one of your favorite things to do, but some people see that as a more… intimate gesture. You don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea, least of all Amete at their most vulnerable moment. Placing your hand in your lap, you pivot and say, “I-If I ever make you uncomfortable, o-or if you want to stop spending time with me-”
“No, no!” They hold up their darkless hands and panic, “I’d hate myself if we weren’t friends. I…” They lower their guard and intertwine their fingers, “I’ll just need a little time to get over my feelings.” Under their breath, they add, “I’ve done it before.”
That certainly has a mournful weight to it. Is it bad that you’re feeling better with this new opportunity to focus on them? Anything to get out of the maze you’ve created in your mind, every turn leading toward a dead end or a trap. You lean forward a little and ask, “Do you want to talk about it?”
They blink and sputter, “A-About what?”
“Well…” You don’t want to pry, but you need to think about anything else. “The last person you confessed too…” This is a very bad idea. You jump back in your seat and say, “Unless you aren’t comfortable sharing! I… I don’t know how to make you feel better.”
Amete smiles weakly. “Not much you can do, but I appreciate the try.” With a heavy sigh, they admit. “Maybe a year ago, I had a similar conversation with Falin.” Their eyes drift away from yours and they turn, staring up into the sky instead. “It’d just be nice, having someone in my life to share everything with.”
What? They can’t share everything with you? You share everything with them. Are... are you not friends? Or, do they hide things from you? Isn’t friendship about openness? Companionship? Sharing? What are you not giving them? Are you n o t e n o u g h ? ? ?
Amete asking to be more than friends… Is there a limit to friendship? A cap? An end? Do you reach the threshold, and everything can only collapse afterward? A finality like light bleeding from the setting sun? How soon does the ending call to your friendship with Amete?
“Ah, I’m sorry.” Amete shakes their head and looks back at you, “I don’t mean to be all doom and gloom. I know there’s someone out there for me. And!” They playfully tap your shoulder, you shiver at the touch, “There’s someone! For you too!”
You try to laugh but end up coughing instead. This is becoming quite the mess. You clear your throat and attempt a graceful landing from your rampant freefall. “Yes! Of course there is. Of course!” You’re trying to convince yourself too, of a great many things all at once.
An unfamiliar caw echoes through the air. You both look up into the sky to see a large lightless bird with a wide wingspan soaring above, toward the eastern forest. Amete whips out their ornithology guidebook and whispers, “Oh, I think that’s a Vaugardian Sparrowhawk?”
As they thumb through the pages, they look up at the hawk and back down to the book. Their hands are shaking a little. A pit forms in your stomach, a terrible churning of bile and half-digested lunch threatens to make itself known (if only you didn’t eat so much). You feel awful. Only bad people make their friends feel unloved. Is that what you are - a bad person? Is this what a lack of Change does to someone?
You turn and watch two plump pigeons fly up to a tree branch, the larger one nestling their head in the smaller one’s breast.
And again,
You blink.
(This) (Isn’t) (Important) (Right) (Now)