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Bassie… was really trying her best.
She wanted to live up to their expectations. To fulfill her purpose, and be worthy of her title. But no matter what she did, she could never be like her.
Like Cocoa.
Wherever she went, she could feel everyone’s eyes on her—like they were watching her, and waiting for her to mess up, so they could quickly replace her with Cocoa. They didn't realise that she already knew the truth, that they wanted to replace her with Cocoa.
All this time, she had been pretending to be okay. But deep down, she was afraid—she didn't want to be replaced. She didn't want this constant fear of people breathing down her neck, or anyone waiting for her to make the smallest of mistakes. She had to be perfect, even though she knew she was far from it. And Cocoa, well, she didn't know any of this. She didn't know about Bassie’s fears, and how that very feeling threatened to consume her whole. She could never tell them about this. Never.
And when I think about you, Cocoa…
I can't help but feel jealous. I know I shouldn't, but I do. Why does everyone love you so much more than me? Why am I nothing to everyone, but you mean the world to them?
She lifts her hand, and reaches out for a nearby photo frame on the table. As she picks it up to get a closer look of it, her fingers can't help but tremble slightly. Inside the frame is a picture of her and Cocoa together, with them smiling happily—it must have been one of the last times Bassie had truly smiled.
That was before all this. Before she had found out the truth, and how Cocoa was supposed to be her replacement.
My eyes look upon you with so much envy, Cocoa. I wish I could be like you… but I can’t. I’m not you, and I never could be. Everyone wants you to replace me. I can see it in the way they look at you—they’ve never looked at me that way. Even if they don't admit it outright, I already know the truth. They don't want me. They want you.
But what is it that they see in you, Cocoa? What is it that you have, that I don't? What makes you more worthy of this role than me?
Her grip on the frame tightens, for just a second, before she takes a deep breath, and tries her best to relax. She gently sets the photo frame back down, afraid that she might shatter it if she continued to hold onto it any longer. It was just like how she treated everything else, and just like how everyone viewed her—fragile.
At that moment, something begins to twist inside her chest. Something ugly, a feeling she doesn't dare identify. She shouldn't feel like this. She shouldn't feel like she hated her.
Cocoa was supposed to be her friend, right? How could she possibly hate one of her friends—someone who cared about her so much?
But can you really call it friendship, when that other person could take your place at any moment? When they could replace you, and no one would notice—in fact, they would think that you were better off, that you weren't worthy of the role…?
The room tilts.
Around her, everything feels like it's spinning. Her thoughts are slipping away, and the strength keeping her upright fades. She feels weak… so, so weak. She’s been lost, all this time, consumed whole by this fear that she cannot shake off. She can't do anything, can't say anything, can't…
What is she even supposed to do? What can she do, other than wait for that awful day?
Slowly, uneasily, she smiles.
And she keeps smiling, even when her world threatens to collapse. She must pretend that everything is fine—even when her mind is unravelling at the seams, even when she feels she might suffocate under the weight of their expectations. She must become the toon that she’s supposed to be. Kind. Caring. The best main toon.
In their eyes, she has to be perfect. She can't afford to be anything else, because if she wasn't…
She could be replaced, at any moment.
She can see every flaw she has, every crack in her facade, every failure and mistake she’s made—but they don't care how she feels. They just want the illusion, the perfection. They’ve already decided who she should be. And if she can't live up to their expectations, then…
Someone else will. Because I am just a replacement. A stand-in, for the time being. This won't last forever, and I don't know how long it will take for them to realise that I am everything but special.
So, if I am just a replacement, if my role is only temporary… then what purpose do I have? Is it only to exist in the spotlight, until Cocoa eventually takes my place?
Honestly, I could be erased from the garden so easily. The others would forget me, like I never existed at all. And the worst part? I would be replaced by someone I trusted dearly. I have to live in this constant fear, like I can't trust anyone—because I can't.
So really, how could anyone expect me to be okay?
Her mind drifts back to the day she found that note… the day everything changed. When she found out their intentions of replacing her, calling her too “dependent."
She hadn’t told anyone about her discovery… How could she?
What if they agreed with that judgment? What if they thought it would be better that way, if she was replaced by Cocoa?
She feels something warm prick in the corner of her eye. She raises her hand quickly, and wipes it away before the tear can fall down her cheek.
She mustn’t cry now. She can't afford to look weak, to show them they had been right about her.
She’s just about to leave the room when a voice calls her name, snapping her out of her thoughts.
“Bassie? Are you here?”
Upon hearing that familiar voice, Bassie instantly stiffens, and forces herself to hold back her sobs. Of all people to run into…
“Y-Yes! I'm here!”
The door swings open. Cocoa steps in, looking as cheerful as ever—she’s completely unaffected by everything, acting like nothing in the world could ever stop her. Bassie hurriedly flipped the photo frame on the table face-down, so they wouldn't find out what she’s been doing.
“There you are! I was looking for you!" Cocoa beams, a warm smile on her face. She seems so… oblivious to everything. So ignorant, so uncaring of what might happen. And it rubs Bassie the wrong way.
You’re so selfish, Cocoa. You really don't know what's going on, do you? Don't you understand what this means? How can you act so kind… when you could replace me at any moment? How could I ever trust someone like you?
Those thoughts come quickly, all bitter things Bassie would never dare to say out loud—but she buries them to the back of her mind, hoping that her disdain is not too obvious on her expression.
"What is it, Cocoa?” she asks, forcing herself to remain calm, and keep her expression composed. She can't afford to appear angry, or slip up. She must be perfect, even to someone like her.
“I… have something for you.”
For a moment, Cocoa seems hesitant, like she’s not quite sure about what she’s doing. And her smile falters—it’s barely noticeable, but Bassie picks up immediately. She watches her glance to the side, to where her hands were still hidden, right behind her back. Bassie’s eyes follow the movement, until her gaze remains fixed on whatever was behind Cocoa.
What was she hiding? Could it be something important?
Eventually, Cocoa brings her hands forward, and reveals the object she’s been hiding all along. “It’s a gift,” she explains quietly.
Bassie blinks, confused by their gesture. They’re… giving her a gift? But why? What had she done to deserve such a thing—
When she sees it, her mind instantly goes blank.
Cradled carefully in Cocoa’s hands is a small flower pot, with two flowers inside—one was a soft, pastel pink, while the other was a deeper, bright purple—both with the same gorgeous petals, curled delicately at the edges.
At that moment, everything else seems to fade.
That anger towards Cocoa. The fear she’s held onto for so long. That voice in her head, telling her that she wasn't enough. That she never could be.
Bassie lifts her hand slowly, almost afraid that the flower might disappear if she moves too quickly, or that she might end up damaging it in her haste. She reaches forward, letting her fingers brush lightly against a soft petal. She's never seen flowers like these before—they must be a special kind.
“How pretty…” she mumbles softly, her voice barely above a whisper. The words slip past her lips easily, and even she too, is a little shocked—she never expected to admit that. But the flowers… They really are pretty.
Cocoa hands the pot over to Bassie, and she accepts it gratefully, before taking the pot and cradling it close to her chest.
Was Cocoa worried about her? Is that why they got her that gift? All this time, she must have been worried for her… while Bassie could only think about cruel, mean things about her.
Guilt begins to creep into her mind, slow and unwelcome. All this time, all those thoughts in her head—had she judged them too harshly? Maybe she was being unfair, by blaming Cocoa for everything. Despite how cold she had been to her recently, she still came all the way here, just to offer her a gift…
“Where did you get this from?" Bassie asks, curious about where Cocoa could have obtained such a rare flower. Her gaze remains on the petals as she cradles the pot in her hands, and waits for their answer.
“Well… it’s from Delilah.”
Oh. Of course it is. I… should have known.
That initial warmth drains almost instantly. Although Bassie’s fingers are still brushing against the petals, her expression stiffens, and she grows cold in her demeanour once more. “I see. That’s very thoughtful of her.”
“Mm…” Cocoa nods in agreement, though her voice feels softer now. That same cheerful smile is plastered on her face, but for once, it looks doubtful. Almost uneasy, like it's fake.
Bassie sets the flower pot down on the table, and looks away, not wanting to think about it anymore. The two flowers sit there, seemingly lonely, all by themselves.
Cocoa should have left by now—so why were they still here, lingering in her room?
I mean, there must be something on her mind—that part is obvious. She can tell from the way they shift slightly, like they want to say more, but don't quite know how to.
And Bassie doesn't ask. She can't be bothered to, not after finding out Delilah was behind all this. The very person who wanted her replaced, and the one who had written that note.
“Are you feeling okay, Bassie?”
That question catches her off guard. She never expected them to ask such a thing.
“W-What…?” She barely manages to stammer out. "Why do you ask?”
Cocoa turns away, the usual cheerfulness in her voice fading as she avoids Bassie’s gaze. "It's just… you haven't been yourself lately. And Deli—I mean…” She trails off, almost unsure how to continue. It seems like the mention of their name has caused her to fumble. “It must be a lot to handle, right?"
And there is only… silence. Bassie keeps quiet, unsure of how to respond.
How could Bassie say it?
How could she look Cocoa in the eyes and admit the truth—that every time she saw her, she felt afraid? That she resented her, knowing that she could take her place? That Bassie hated her, for something she could not even control?
How could she begin to explain everything? Could she even say anything at all?
In the end, she doesn't utter a word. She keeps those feelings buried away, not wanting to burden Cocoa with them.
“I’m fine.”
It comes out too quickly, like she’s trying to brush things aside. Like she’s trying to ignore them.
But Cocoa still steps forward, and tries to reach for Bassie.
“Are you sure? I—”
“I said I’m fine, Cocoa.”
The words come out harsh, far more than she intended. Bassie almost ends up shoving her away, but she stops herself, not wanting to hurt her any further. But Cocoa notices how tense Bassie had become, and freezes, still mid-motion.
“I just…” Cocoa pauses, her voice faltering. Her expression seems uncertain, and almost hurt, in a way. She looks just like Bassie—completely lost on what to do.
Something unfamiliar in Bassie’s chest tightens. Cocoa’s probably never seen her like this before… so cold, so distant, and closed off.
But she can't help it. It feels like she can't breathe, not with this heavy burden of others’ expectations weighing down on her, not with that constant feeling of others watching her, and judging her for the toon she could never be. She just needs… space. And time. Lots of it. Anything but this, really.
Cocoa swallows hard, her hands curling slightly at her sides before she clenches them, and gathers the courage to speak again, though it's softer this time.
“Can I... give you a hug, Bassie?”
To that request, Bassie wants to refuse.
The answer sits at the edge of her tongue—no. Absolutely not. She doesn't want this, doesn't want affection from someone like her. Not when everything inside of her feels so bitter and cruel, like she might lash out at any second.
But then, she sees Cocoa’s expression. Those wide, pleading eyes, full of concern—all just for Bassie. She doesn't deserve this.
Finally, Bassie gives in.
“…okay. Only for you, Cocoa.”
Cocoa nods quickly, clearly surprised but pleased by their acceptance. She instantly steps forward, before wrapping her arms around Bassie in a tight embrace.
At first, it felt too tight—almost suffocating. And the smell… it hits her immediately. There's that rich, sweet chocolate, cloying and overwhelming, clashing against the softer, more faint fragrance of the flowers in her basket. It seems too sugary-sweet, and the hug is anything but comforting.
Everything feels too much. She should have known this would never work out.
And yet, she lets Cocoa hold onto her—and they’re still clinging onto her tightly, like they’re afraid she might disappear. Bassie stiffens, her arms hovering awkwardly at her sides, unsure of what to do, or how to feel about all this.
“Bassie… you know you can tell me anything, right?”
Cocoa’s voice trembles with fear, and Bassie’s heart twists painfully at the sound of it. It sounds like she’s scared for her, like she pities her—and she knows she doesn't deserve it.
You care too much, Cocoa. And I can't bring myself to feel the same way. No, I should hate you… because you are everything I am not.
But despite the feelings raging within her, Bassie still lifts her arms, and hesitantly returns the hug—though her grasp is not as tight as Cocoa’s, though she doesn't have the same, desperate longing—she knows it’s enough to pretend. Just for now.
But I don't. I could never. How could I ever hate you, Cocoa, with all of the kindness you’ve shown me?
I’ve convinced myself that I despise you… but that isn't true, is it? It was never your fault that things turned out this way.
But it wasn't mine either. So tell me…
Why?
Why can't I be like you? What is it that everyone—what is it that Delilah sees in you, that I don't have?
Her chest aches with guilt, and everything in between.
I’m sorry. I know that we’re friends. I know that you care about me. But I can't help but feel this way—and I hate that I do. I know what I’m doing is awful, and because of everything, I feel so lost.
I’m sorry, Cocoa. You don't deserve this. You never did.
Finally, Bassie pulls away. She forces a small smile onto her face—a practiced one, just another facade.
“I know.”
Cocoa searches her face, like she’s trying to find something hidden beneath that smile. But she doesn't pick up on it, on how Bassie’s pretending to be fine. That look of concern fades, replaced by that familiar bright smile.
“Promise me that we’ll be friends forever?”
It seems so simple for her. To be warm towards others. To give her light, and her joy… it's something Bassie knows she could never truly replicate. She truly is the best Easter toon, isn't she?
And still, she tries. Even though she knows that this act will only end in failure, she tries her best—because that's all she can ever do. She smiles back at Cocoa, even if it lacks that same sincerity that they seem to carry so naturally.
“Of course, Cocoa.”
The words come out easily. Too easily, in fact, because deep down, they are nothing more than a lie.
And that promise…
She knows she will never mean it.