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The starlit night should’ve been peaceful, but it was not.
Columbina couldn’t breathe, breath hitching and cheeks wet with the tears she couldn’t hold back. It wasn’t very often she lost her composure in such a way, and now that she knows what it feels like to sob so hard she loses all sense, she never wants to experience it ever again.
Yet she couldn’t stop. Her eyes were closed most of the time, but in this sickening, miserable moment, they were sore and wet.
She’s never experienced misery so heavy that they clogged her eyes, nose, and mouth. It was overwhelming. It wrapped a noose around her neck and choked her. She curled in on herself, arms desperately wrapped around her knees. Her own arms were the only thing keeping her from fully breaking apart.
Oh, but she longed for her arms instead. But she was gone, and while Columbina thought it’d be okay at first, she was beginning to realize that it is the furthest thing from okay.
Sandrone was gone. Gone.
That simple four letter word shouldn’t mean so much, but right now, it did. She didn’t want to know their meaning, didn’t want to be constantly reminded of how much she’s lost, but it was inevitable. Every waking second she would be reminded.
A goddess like herself shouldn’t be doing this. One loss doesn’t matter. She’ll get used to it. She’ll accept it eventually.
Still, no matter how hard she begs herself to get over it, she can’t.
Because she needed Sandrone. One way or another, she’s always had Sandrone within reach. She had felt settled that the other wouldn’t be gone forever, that she’ll always find her again, one day.
Today, it became apparent to Columbina that Sandrone wouldn’t be found by her anymore. Not after what happened.
It was cruel, the way the world cared not for how much she sobbed and how much tears soaked this bed that wasn’t hers. There was no miracle. No blessing, because while the people prayed to the gods, there was no one that the gods prayed to.
And no amount of tears can wash away her cursed, disgusting divinity. She is forever trapped in this illusion of perfection, and she wants to break free, so badly. Even if she’s supposed to be free now, the fact that Sandrone is now gone felt like a spear through the heart, keeping her immobile, bleeding.
After winning against evil, all should be well. Yet Columbina doesn’t think she can live with herself if it means being this miserable. One life mattered so much. Sandrone mattered so much to her.
Her hotheadedness always drew Columbina in. She liked how real the other was. Her anchor in the deep, keeping her from drowning in her own doubts.
Now what was she without her? What could she even hope to be?
She shouldn’t cry so hideously. But she can’t stop.
Why did the pain have to hit her now? She would’ve rather cried her eyes out in front of Sandrone’s unmoving body that day, but no. Her own misery was prolonged, and hurt infinite times more than what she could’ve ever thought of feeling. Only now, she supposed, she was realizing.
That Sandrone, the only perfect thing in her life, is not here with her.
So with that painfully clear in mind, Columbina cried the night away.
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When she woke up, she was still sniffling. Hiccups occasionally plagued her, and she refused to open her eyes.
That is, until she heard a voice.
“Columbina! Did you not hear me? I told you to stop sleeping in my bed ages ago, yet you’re doing it again!”
Oh. Right. This was Sandrone’s bed.
And that voice… was Sandrone’s voice.
Columbina startled awake abruptly, gasping for breath. Her eyes were open for once, darting around for that familiar face the moment she had sat up.
“Ack! Gosh, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” There she was, looking perfectly untouched, with that pretty, impudent scowl, looking like she had just jumped away from Columbina. There was Sandrone, and she was here, not gone.
Columbina’s frantic breaths quickly settled into something calmer without her permission. There was clearly a very big problem to this, but she couldn’t care less. Right now, all that mattered was the fact that Sandrone, in all her glittering perfection, was not a motionless body on the cold, hard floor.
“Columbina?” Sandrone sounded annoyed. “You’re awfully quiet.”
And that was enough to make Columbina tumble out of the covers, quickly latching her arms around Sandrone’s waist in a tight embrace.
“Co– Columbina!” Sandrone yelped, face flushing almost immediately. Her hands hovered over the long-haired goddess’ shoulders. If Columbina did not know better, she would say that Sandrone wanted to push her away. But she did know better, and she knew that as much as Sandrone liked to say otherwise, she would always let Columbina touch her.
“You’re here.” Columbina murmured reverently. She slowly lifted her face from the dark fabric of Sandrone’s corset, lifting her head up to meet the other’s embarrassed and confused expression. Her own eyes closed in relaxation once realizing that Sandrone was warm to the touch, and that she could actually hold her. “You’re… here…”
“Columbina.” Sandrone choked out, turning to the side, averting her eyes.
“Hmm?” Columbina only tried to pull Sandrone in closer. The action caused the latter to flush red again, avoiding looking at Columbina with stubbornness.
“Stop it. What do you think you’re doing?” Snapped Sandrone, once she recovered her voice. Though the slight tremor in the way she spoke did not go by amiss, not for the moon goddess clutching onto her like she could disappear in any second.
“Hugging you.” Columbina answered softly. Then she leaned backwards, the abrupt motion tugging Sandrone down with her. With another startled noise, the marionette landed on top of her, palms pressed against the mattress to keep herself steady. Columbina’s back was pressed to the bed, her arms and hands laying on Sandrone.
She hooked her arms around Sandrone’s neck, pulling the other down. Their noses brushed, and she breathed softly in the familiarity of Sandrone’s scent. It was something sharp like steel, something that shouldn’t be comforting, but right now, it was more calming than any incense.
Sandrone was so warm. So alive. This close, Columbina could hear the faint whirr of the key in Sandrone’s back, always turning. She hummed in content, trying to press her lips to the other’s without a second thought.
“Colu– H– Hey!” Columbina had never realized that Sandrone’s face could get so red as the Marionette quickly turned away, dodging her attempt at contact. “Columbina!”
“What is it?” Columbina said absentmindedly, fingers sliding from the the nape of Sandrone’s neck to the middle of her shoulder blades, exposed by her choice of clothing. “Are you uncomfortable?”
“I’m–” Sandrone was breathing heavily, blinking furiously. “I’m not…”
“Then kiss me.” Columbina murmured. “Please.”
Sandrone had a distant look in her eyes when she stared down at the damsel laying under her. She didn’t speak, chest rising and falling with each breath she took.
She finally spoke, her voice so much softer than usual. “I can’t, Columbina.”
Even though Sandrone practically whispered the words, it didn’t lessen the blow it had on Columbina.
The warm haze was abruptly destroyed by those two simple words. Reality shattered her heart, and she felt her chest tighten exponentially. Pain was in her every nerve. How would she ever get rid of it?
The goddess was frozen, her body tense beyond measure. She can’t help but notice how the warmth of Sandrone’s body was gone, abruptly replaced by the harsh, unmoving cold.
“Sandrone…” Columbina breathed, her voice wavering. Even still, though she shivered uncontrollably and her hands shook, she pulled Sandrone down into her arms. She held the other tightly, refusing to let go.
Her eyes felt wet again.
“Columbina. Let go.”
“Columbina.”
“Columbina, you know better than this.”
“You have responsibilities. Don’t be immature, Columbina.”
“I’m gone, Columbina. You’re dreaming.”
Columbina’s breath hitched. It hurt so much to hear her own thoughts be voiced by the one she cared for the most. A dream. It was all a dream. She despised it, yet she couldn’t wake up. Doomed to suffer staring into the eyes of the dead girl she loved, it seemed like her pain would never end.
“Kiss… me.” That was all Columbina could say, her voice weak. “Just this once, please kiss me.”
Her conscience could’ve played a sick joke on her and refused her even the tiniest of reliefs, but it didn’t. This Sandrone of her dreams blinked, and then leaned down hesitantly.
“Please, Sandrone.” Columbina repeated; a broken whisper in her own loneliness.
Without another moment wasted, Sandrone let her lips brush against Columbina’s.
It was not electric. It was freezing ice. And it was ice that Columbina desperately kissed back, tears finally slipping from her closed eyes once more. She kissed a corpse, with tears like crystals mingling between them.
Columbina’s hands subconsciously scrabbled for a tighter purchase on Sandrone’s body, doing everything in her power to hold onto her. It was with the desperation of a drowning woman that she clung onto Sandrone.
She kissed a fragment of her own imagination, and it hurt so badly. She would’ve died just to feel the touch of something alive. But that’s the thing, is it not? It was sacrifice after sacrifice, and neither of them will ever get what they want. It was one loss after another. This time, she drew the short end of the stick. She would be the one to mourn a death, of all possible things.
And maybe it was loneliness that hurt her once more. Or maybe it was simply the fact that it was her. Sandrone, who never hid what she thought. Sandrone, who was the only person that felt real to her. Sandrone, who was perfection dressed in subpar fabric.
Columbina yearned to see Sandrone again. Without the layers upon layers of unnecessary clothing. She knew the other was beautiful. She would give until she had nothing left, just to see for herself what she had been missing her whole life.
Ah, but how could she forget? There’s no chance.
With a gasp, she ripped away from the kiss. Her hands grazed the junction between Sandrone’s neck and shoulders. She clamped down, fingers digging hard into the flesh.
“Columbina,” Sandrone whispered. And it looked like pain in her eyes. Fake, deceitful pain that was not real. Oh, how she was her own biggest enemy.
“I need you. Don’t go. Don’t. Please.” Columbina’s words were choppy, barely choked out through the unbearing wetness of her eyes. It was hard to speak, hard to ask. Especially when she knows no one will listen anyway. “Stay. Please. Please, Sandrone.”
Instead of answering, Sandrone smiles. She does not speak at all, and the silence felt like a knife through the heart.
Just like in the end, Sandrone was never able to say something to her. Not even a goodbye. And for Columbina? She had never been allowed to cry that day, under a ripped sky and light that should’ve meant victory.
Columbina was so, so cold.
Would the real Sandrone scoff at her for being so miserable? Would she laugh? What would she do?
All Columbina wants is to feel again. But without her love, how is she supposed to?
She recognizes the moment that Sandrone was about to slip away. The subtle shift in the atmosphere of her dream. In a dazed panic, she tried to grab Sandrone’s face. If not for a kiss, just for one more look at her eyes.
But she was cruel. She was not granted even the smallest of desires.
Her fingertips brushed against Sandorne’s cheek. But it was too late. Her efforts never meant anything, after all.
So when Columbina woke up, staring at the dark ceiling of the room that wasn’t hers, the goddess’s only company was her own dried tears.
How lonely.