Archive of Our Own

The first time your soul instructed you to flirt, you'd panicked. 

Inwardly, of course. On the outside, you maintained form: back straight, armor shining, sash blowing in a nowhere breeze. You had about one second—the time it took for your hand to raise, finger gun aimed straight, before you blurted out the first idiotic thing that came to your mind. 

You told Hathy her teeth looked like knives. 

Her cheeks began to glow in a cartoon flush and you knew, the same way you knew that there was a chest around the next corner, that when you asked her to stop fighting she would listen. 

In a way, it was comforting: a reminder that no matter how it felt, this world wasn't real. It didn't matter if you were creepy. It didn't matter that your voice was an ugly, flat monotone. You didn't need to know the first thing about it. You didn't need to mean it. Your soul (which could be counted on to do exactly what needed doing, except when it mattered most) told you to flirt, and you flirted. It always worked. 

The haze of smoke enveloping the battlefield stings your eyes and forces you to take short, shallow breaths. Beside you, Susie lays kneeling. Ralsei's clothing lays in a heap a few feet back, blown out of its tidy pile by concussive force. You don't like looking at it.

You understand better than anyone that dark worlds are dangerous. Ralsei knows because they know everything. Susie's been beaten and bloodied, but she always gets back up, never worse for wear. Maybe she's just putting on a brave face. Doesn't matter.

You know that if you get lost down here, all the magic in the world won't bring you back. It's why you have the Soul: your guardian Angel, an agent of the prophecy, except for the times it decides to totally fuck you over. Even so, the prophecy has no room for heroes dying ahead of schedule, and whatever's filled your soul and moves your limbs has carried you this far without getting you killed. 

You wonder if that's about to change.

You ache. Your body buzzes with adrenaline that isn't enough to cover up the pain. One of your ears won't stop ringing, and blood seeps down a cut in your cheek.

You don't want to die.

The thought startles you enough to push your aching limbs through the next attack, a wave of electricity that boxes you in and forces you to surge forward in sickening zigzags to avoid being shocked. The warped space around you would be dizzying if you could stop to think about it, but you barely have time enough to breathe. 

The volley ends. You stand, heaving, and rifle through pockets you know to be empty. 

Your soul tells you to flirt. 

It's the only thing that's had any effect in this battle. Even Susie didn't put up a fuss. The three of you dodged, healed, flirted, and watched as the enraged idol grew more and more flustered. 

Then Pink had started fighting with herself. The canned voice lines, ripped straight from the dating games your brother would hastily minimize when you entered the room, reached a crescendo, and in a shower of smoke and shrieking servos, a second Pink had flown out of the first. Susie and Ralsei were still up, at that point, and you'd had a moment to think to yourself, please, no. You could deal with monsters. You could handle giant robots. With Susie, you had defeated a Titan. 

You couldn't handle this. 

You did anyway, because you had no choice. You told her you'd give her extra wet food. You told her you'd watch her second season. You told her that her bells looked like Christmas ornaments, which was weak even for you, and watched as her body tore itself apart under the strain of an unwilling soul. The ghost curled around her protectively after each action, even as she berated her overheating body. The attacks grew more vicious. 

It has to be over soon. You don't want to know how this ends, but you aren't going to last much longer. A robotic purr ratchets out of the sparking body's chest while the ghost plants herself in front of it, and you swallow thickly.

Your arm lifts, finger pointing out like you're taking aim, and your mouth opens. 

All that comes out is a dry croak. You were distracted. You scramble to come up with something, anything that could even remotely be construed as flirtation. She… you…

"See! They never meant any of it!! Who needs humans and dates and—and—just keep your eyes on ME, okay?" The ghost lifts another bomb over her head. You have a moment, maybe less.

You tell Pink that you wish you were like her. 

"Like... me, mew?" She lifts her head. Something sparks in her neck, and she stops halfway. "I'm just..." 

The ghost's eyes go wide. For a second, you think she's going to cry. An ugly, bitter feeling wells up in your throat, and you force it down. Then her see-through features screw up in rage.

"Liar. Liar! LIAR!!! You already—you just want to steal my body!!" 

Another fusillade of bombs. Your body moves out of sync and you stumble, but your limbs drag you though it, a dive past one blast into a duck under a bomb soaring overhead. You don't know where you end and your soul begins, but you saw something there. You think, if you can just reach them—

A bomb explodes at your feet. You take one last lunging step, feel your soul shudder in your chest as it reaches its limit, and collapse. Your ankle feels hot, like the metal of your boot has been left in the sun. One last bomb lands next to you. It blinks white, faster and faster, as the fuse burns down. You try to move—to draw your sword, your shield, anything—but all you can manage is to bring up one arm. 

You close your eyes. You hear an ugly crunch of warped plastic passing its tension limit, then a shower of sparks burns itself into your vision through screwed-shut eyelids as something flies past your head. 

The bomb explodes ten feet behind you. You don't die.

When your eyes open, you see Pink—the doll, the body—crouched in front of you. Half of her leg is twisted off, hanging by wires from the knee down, but she doesn't seem to notice. Her eyes are fixed on you, highlights shimmering in wonder.

"Mew... want to be... like me?" 

You nod. She giggles, the sound chirping out from somewhere in her chest.

"I want to be a real girl. I want to go on dates, and go to school, and...." 

You tell her you want that, too. 

You tell her she's more real than you are. 

You tell her she's really, really pretty. 

"No, no, NO! You can't... she's not—we're not!!! How could you... how could a human like you ever understand?" The ghost curls around her, the same color as the smoke pouring out of her body. Ugly, bruise purple tears patter against the ground, then start to sink through the floor.

You reach out a hand. You try to point, to finish this in one final act with the only magic a human can muster, but you're too weak. Your arm goes limp. 

Pink catches it. A spark passes from her fingers to your gauntlet and her wrist makes an awful ratcheting click like it's tearing itself apart, but she cradles your hand between hers. 

You tell her you'll show her your Soul. 

"I… I…"

You start to glow. Using your Soul to seal a fountain is motionless: it slips out of you like a breath, drawn towards the pillar of darkness it's purpose built to seal. This feels different. It's a feeling like petals unfurling somewhere inside of you. It's almost like…

Your vision goes green. Your wounds close, aches dissolved and hearing restored in an instant.

"Kris!" Susie's voice, rough and familiar. The cage slams shut. A minute later, you've won: body and ghost reconciled, peace made with Orange and with the end of this Dark World. You receive your rewards: the fifth and final Shadow Crystal, and a kiss on the cheek. The half-bloomed thing in your chest aches.

"Man, that was close!" Susie says. "Can't believe I spent half the fight laying on the floor like a chump." Ralsei insists that they couldn't have won without her. You say nothing.

"Nah, Kris was really putting the moves on her at the end." Her grin turns sly and she elbows you in the side, right under where your chestplate ends. "Didn't know you had that typa thing in you, dude."

"The moves?"

You say nothing.

"Yeah! Man, they were saying stuff like… they'd show her…" A faint, rosy blush dusts her cheeks, and she looks away. "Hey, uh. You think Noelle…"

You say nothing. There's a star up ahead, a light that shines only for you, marking your progression along the path set out years ago.

"…jeez, fine. I won't steal your lines, if you're that pissed off about it."

The breaks are nice.

Your adventures through dark worlds up until now have been an accelerating blur of nonstop action. Even when they've featured less violence than you expected, by the end of each day your thoughts feel like they're being pushed through thick wads of cotton and your voice is hoarse from overuse. The cafe that you keep looping back around to has an air to it that gently insists on relaxation, and a menu of options for taking a break. You, Susie, and Ralsei sit and watch as Seth and Aqua squabble, and you feel better.

Everyone here knows how this ends, even the flowers. Seeing them laugh and bicker and play with one another… you don't like looking at it, but you want even less to look away. You know they didn't exist before today. They're just flowers—their shared history, their likes and dislikes and loves they hold dear only span back from the moment your knife pierced the tile floor of your dad's shop. All of this is just another dream, too.

But you think of Susie, her voice low as she picked at the fraying seat cushion of the ferris wheel car, and you know she's right. They're real. As real as you are. They're real, and you have to do this anyway. Maybe that's why you go down the list, doling out the payment for each break. Penance, or witness, or simple duty. If you're going to end their world, you'll look it in the eye first. Someone should remember.

After watching Ralsei's latest attempt at reconciliation with Orange go off the rails, you return to the menu and point at the next option down. It takes you a moment to realize what you've just "ordered". As your feet carry you towards the low teak table, you catch one last glimpse of the menu.

Pink & Kris.

It's not so bad, at first. Everyone's eyes on you itch, but Aqua and Seth interject, and Pink—the ghost—seems more preoccupied with staking her claim on her own body than she is with you. The body (the one you spoke to, the one who thinks she likes you) leans in, hands across the table, but your eyes flit away, and your hands are mercifully your own. You leave them at your side.

She is pretty. But there's about a million things in the way of you and the kind of "date" she's looking for, not the least of which is sitting at a table with Ralsei across the room, scraping a straw against the bottom of her drink as she tries to slurp the last drop of soda from a paper cup. It doesn't matter that you said things to her you've never spoken to another soul. Or that she saved your life, just to hear more. There's no reason to get Pink's hopes up.

You don't flinch when she says "true love". You don't have to say anything, usually; stay silent long enough and people get the message.

"Dude, you know Kris flirts with every enemy, right?"

You say nothing. It was true, after all. Across the table, Pink spits tea.

"I mean, we were just acting… to win the battle."

You hadn't exactly been given any other choice.

"Oh, man… Kris, you really went too far this time…"

You don't look at Susie. Pink flinches like she's been struck, a strangled "mew" sputtering out from the voicebox in her chest. The the blunted tip of of your own chestplate digs into your stomach.

"It's OK, Kris! No one else ever took your flirting seriously…"

Pink looks lost. Stray sparks dance over her skin, and you smell burnt-plastic smoke. You open your mouth. The cup in your hand trembles.

You say nothing.

The other Pink—the Lightner ghost—intercedes, sputtering outrage at your two-faced behavior. She pulls out a bomb. It explodes harmlessly and the two exit stage left, cartoon char flaking off of an unharmed idol body. Everybody laughs. Break over.

You're back at the cafe.

There's no reason to be here: you followed the stars to the obvious end, a confrontation with Flowery that can only go one way. You know you won't lose. You can't lose, even if you wanted to. But you'd stepped into that glowing doorway to nowhere and found yourself back here, feeding even-more-fake money into a machine and collecting drinks you'll never get to use.

It's a nice cafe. Maybe that's all. Your eyes scan over the menu anyways, hoping for a new entry. The end of a dark world is always like this: the final bit of a scab stuck to your skin as you tear it off. You want it over and done with; you want to drown in the feeling. It's a world you have to end, but it is another world.

Your eyes linger on the last item on the menu.

You are, fundamentally, a liar. You practiced, first on Noelle and then yourself, honing the art from a young age. Drink this, it's good. I promise there's nothing in my hands. My horns will come in soon.

You've been lying to your mom and dad for years. To Susie, from the moment you opened that closet door to just minutes ago, when she'd stopped to stare at the impossible sunset and said (absently, like it came to her as natural as breathing) that she wished Noelle could see it. Happy for you, you said. Even Ralsei, who knows the ending, believes in you, which has to be the result of one lie or another.

But today, on a blast-marked battlefield in a space that didn't exist, you told Pink you'd show her your Soul.

The pencil in your pocket is a sword, but if you reach for it in just the right way, it remembers what it was. With a shaky hand, you hunch over the menu and mark out a single digit.

You slide the menu back towards the counter with the appropriate payment. Green looks at the money, then at the menu, with the obvious graphite smudge next to the neat, printed font on laminated cardstock.

You slide over another five dollars. Green shrugs, and disappears behind the counter.

The low, round table in the center of the cafe welcomes you. You aren't sure she'll come, but you sit anyway. The blunt fingertip of your gauntlet makes a soft metallic click as you trace it over the ceramic chips of the flower mosaic adorning the table.

"Oh, man, is that…?"

You flinch. Somehow, you'd lost track of Susie. She's beside you, now, standing where you're kneeled at the table. She cranes her neck to look at the doorway, and you follow her gaze to see the frilled hem of a pink and white dress, just out of view.

"Dude, again? It's like… kinda not cool to play with her heart like this."

You like Susie. You can't think the other word without wanting to throw up, so you like her. In the span of four days, she's made you feel more like a person than you have in a long time. You laugh around her. You smile without meaning to. It's going to make this so, so hard, but you can't help it. She's Susie.

Right now, you wish she were anywhere but here. She scuffs the floor with her boot, and makes a sharp squeak against the polished wood.

"Like, I dunno much about… love, and stuff. But you shouldn't pretend to be into someone. That's just…"

Your mouth moves. Words form on your lips, a hacked-together approximation of the mess churning in the pit of your stomach.

"Think about somewhere else"

"Huh?"

"I think…" Ralsei's voice doesn't startle you; it's too familiar. They always sound like they're murmuring, even when they're speaking at full volume. "I think maybe Kris would like some space?"

You hadn't liked Ralsei much at first. The resemblance felt mocking, their kindness like a jab at your own shortcomings. They knew too much, and it put you on edge.

In this moment, you couldn't be more grateful. They drag an indignant Susie over to a table at the far corner, promising her that it won't be long, and that Kris had given her some space when she needed it, right? You turn your back on the table, and try not to wonder what she's feeling.

A second later, stepping out from the shadowed doorway as if she'd been waiting for the room to clear, you see Pink. She waves at you, then frowns.

She stomp-flounces over to your table and sits, angrily, with a jingle of oversized bells.

"You've got SOME NERVE trying to score a second date after that. Did you think—"

You see the change ripple over her as her body cuts in. It's subtle, but even if she hadn't cut herself off, you think you would have noticed. The way she holds herself shifts, eyes softening and shoulders falling.

"Kris, mew? Did you, um…"

"Sorry," you rasp, in your unmusical voice. Pink's eyes shimmer.

"I knew it, mew! You don't really flirt with everyone, do you?" She speaks in exuberant line reads, like it's a great day in the recording studio. You can't help it: you look away, just for a second. Susie and Ralsei are at a table in the corner, the former unsubtly sneaking glances at your table.

"They weren't lying," you say, for once honest yourself. Pink's eyes lose a few highlights, and a spark jumps off of her skin.

"Mew…?"

"I"

You start and stop. Your chest aches. This was easier when you were dying.

"Meant it with you"

The ghost—you think it's the ghost, she uses her eyebrows more—blushes.

"Then… we can date, mew? It's true love?"

She says everything like it's so clear. Like she isn't ashamed at all. You flinch and look away, your gaze darting to the table in the far corner.

Susie looks down fast, grimacing. Ralsei has their hands over hers. Their mouth is moving.

"Hey. Hey! HEY!!! Will you quit LOOKING AWAY while you're on a date with my body?" The ghost is… blushing. She screws up her eyebrows and pokes you in the chest. "If you're so distracted, I'll just go! To the clifftops where the sun is setting!! And take you with me!!!"

You blink.

"Let's go watch the sunset, Kris!"

She takes your hand in hers. You can't feel anything through the metal gauntlets of your armor, but a tiny spark passes from her finger and travels up your arm.

You let her lead you to the door.

Pink takes you to her shop.

You hadn't realized it was hers, before. She'd been a lot more subdued, back when it was just the ghost. Before the doll woke up and started getting her own ideas.

She's still holding your hand. You'd hoped it would be easier to talk without your friends there.

It's a nice sunset. You suspect it had been a nice sunset the moment you made this world, and it'll be a nice sunset until the moment you end it, but still. Distant waves lap at the base of the cliff far below.

"I've never… been on a date before, mew."

You haven't either, really. Playdates with Noelle didn't count, even if your parents liked to chuckle and say that the two of you were getting awfully close, and one time Rudy had ruffled your hair and told you not to go breaking his daughter's heart.

Is this a date? It doesn't feel like it. Your heart isn't trying to break out of your chest, like it did when you rode the Ferris wheel with Susie. You don't feel like you're dying, like you did when you wrote her name next to Noelle's on the ballot.

You're not stupid: you know this isn't love. It's not anything. This world won't be here tomorrow, and neither will Pink. It wasn't even a promise.

You don't say any of that.

Pink squeezes your hand.

"Kris?" she says, suddenly shy. "Can I ask you a question, mew?"

You nod.

"Did you really… mean it? What you said to me, back there?"

It's exactly what you came here to say, but some part of you still seizes up at the question. You open your mouth. Your tongue feels foreign and gummy, syllables like the names of family friends you don't remember meeting. You try to speak and all that comes out is a raspy croak.

Maybe it was one time only. Maybe that kind of honesty wasn't meant for you and the universe could tell; that's why Ralsei and Susie had shot it down.

(She had heard, though. Susie had heard you say it. Couldn't she tell?)

…you have an idea. Maybe, if you just…

       Close your eyes and think about Pink

You didn't mean the part about the cat food, you say. Next to you, she giggles.

You did mean it when you said she was pretty. Her giggle cuts off into a squeak. Your face feels warm.

You tell her you meant the other stuff, too.

She doesn't laugh at that one. When you open your eyes, she's looking right at you.

"I don't get it, mew… You've got a real body! You can go to school, and eat food, and go on dates in the sunshine… I want so many things I can't have!"

Your eyes are open now, and you can't close them. All you have is your own clumsy, bashed together phrases. But your face is warm and you'd swear you can almost feel something through the metal gloves of your armor and so you say, tonelessly,

"You're enough"

She just stares at you, eyes wide. For once in your life you feel like you have more to say, even if it spills out of you in ugly jagged chunks, so you say,

"your ghost cares"

and

"don't need anyone else"

and

"it's you in the mirror"

You're not even sure what you're saying, really. Clipped phrases spill out of you like mangled punchcards, one after another. Pink puts her hands on your shoulders. She smiles at you, but her eyes are shimmering.

"You must think I'm awfully greedy, mew… I know she loves me, but I just want more. Is that so bad?"

You shake your head. It's okay when it's her. Everyone wants things they can't have. Sometimes they even get them. Not you, though; you have a mission, a responsibility. A promise.

You say none of that to her. Instead, as some final approximation of everything wrong with you, you blurt out

"I love her"

It feels like the moment between a tree branch cracking and the ground rising up to meet you. You duck your head down, unable to look her in the eye.

"Sorry"

You're expecting heartbreak. An angry ghost. Maybe even smoke and sparks; a physical breakdown to match your own. Instead, when you look up, Pink is smiling at you.

"I know, mew." She pokes you on the nose. "It's really obvious, silly. But it's fun to pretend for just a bit, isn't it? I didn't want this dream to end… without getting a chance to try."

"Besides… don't tell Ory, but I think you're the cutest human."

There's an extra seat behind the counter in her shop. You're still a little shaky, but Pink doesn't let go of your hand, and she doesn't say anything about it as she leads you inside. For a second, you think that you'll miss the sunset.

"I spent a lot of time here thinking, mew… dreaming. About all the things I could do if I was a regular girl."

There's a cup of tea between the two of you. You don't have to be told to drink it. You take occasional sips and let her talk. The light filters in through the paper screen, casting the room and its contents in a faded, rosy hue, like petals left out in the sun.

"I know I won't get to do those things, mew. Not here, with my friends… but, I got this." She reaches for the teacup and takes a sip from the same side you were drinking from. Hatched blush lines cross her cheeks. "So… it wasn't wrong, was it, mew? To have those silly, impossible dreams."

There's a mirror on the shop counter. It stands on its own pedestal, its polished surface no wider across than your outstretched hand. It's aimed at the shopkeeper's seat, though she'd had her back to you when you first arrived at the bluffs.

"Do you like it, mew?" Pink tilts the mirror up, and then down. "I spent a lot of time looking into it, before you arrived. I couldn't tell why it made me so happy, mew. I thought, it's just me."

And then, before you can object, she turns the mirror around to face you.

It really is a tiny little thing. The border is unassuming, lacquered wood, and the mirror itself is so small that you can't see the shop behind or the empty space next to you. What you see is this: your own face, familiar shape, unfamiliar skin. The curtain of your hair falling roughly over your eyes. A ribbon, tying a portion of it back into a rough ponytail, and the pink of your sash falling across your chest.

"See? It's just you, mew. But your dreams… they fit, too."

In the rosy reflection of a mirror fit for one, you start to glow.

It's not like it is with a fountain. It's not like it was in battle, either; you don't pick up where you left off. This new bloom won't last even a day, but right here, just for now…

"Kris, mew? Is that your…"

You tear your eyes away from the mirror and turn to Pink. She's looking at you like… you don't know what. She's looking at you in a way people don't look at you.

You nod.

She walks you back to the cafe, after. One of your gauntlets is tucked under your arm, so you can feel every point of articulation against your bare hand as she laces her fingers in yours. Her skin is cool, and her palm doesn't sweat, but… it's nice.

You wish it could have lasted longer. One step through the doorway takes you back to the cafe. You hear voices: Ralsei and Susie, the chatter of recruits. Once you leave, there's nowhere to go but forward. The sun will set.

Just before you step through the door, Pink squeezes your hand. You turn to face her, unsure of what to say, if anything.

She kisses you. 

Her lips are smooth and hard, gloss finished molded plastic. A jolt runs through you, then... you close your eyes. 

You feel warm. 

"From one body to another, mew... don't give up, okay?" 

The cafe feels busy after the quiet of Pink's shop. The soft patter of conversation, the sizzle of Green's frying pan as they cook up a meal… and in the corner, Susie and Ralsei. Susie is stacking cups into a makeshift castle. Ralsei is folding napkins into banners.

You walk over. Ralsei notices you first.

"Kris! Did you, um, enjoy your date?"

The castle loses its west wing as Susie whips around. Paper cups fall to the floor and roll in elliptical orbits before coming to a stop.

"Their—come on, that wasn't a date. Right, Kris?"

"It was nice," you say, and start to put your gauntlet back on. You flex your fingers a few times to make sure it's settled back into place, and are satisfied with the way each segment bends and folds into the next.

"Hang on!" Susie grabs you by the shoulder and spins you half around. She's blushing, eyes darting to the side like she can't look straight at you. "Did you guys, like… I mean, not that I care, but,"

You've shared a lot with Susie. Food, money, your home. Everything that wouldn't ruin you and a few things that would, little cracks in your armor that you pried open with shaking fingers to let her inside. This is something you'll keep for yourself. Besides, if you're being honest—and somehow it feels easier, now—she's cute when she's jealous.

So you shrug out of her grasp, and duck under her hand when she swipes at you again.

"Kris??? Hey, isn't she like… kind of old for you?" She squints. "Like, her ghost said she doesn't even go to school anymore."

You tell Susie she said you were mature for your age.

…You tell Susie she didn't actually say that.