Holly Berry

by Kard

Summary:

Rachel realizes that she has feelings like everyone else too late, at a funeral. She bottled up her emotions to pursue success, and now they're poisoning her. Her deadline is looming in winter. She gets a chance to change her heart, but it's not that easy. Can a sudden confession save her? Can she learn how to return feelings and accept them, before her lungs are overrun by roots?

Chapter 1: Routine

There was a note on her locker. She looked around, in a subtle way. The slip of stark white paper was not hidden. It was out in the open, like a threat.

Everybody noticed.

I’m the last person to find out about this. Of course. I would love to throw it away, but there’s too many witnesses.

The envelope had her name on it, in the upper left corner. The writing looked too familiar. It was like her own scrawl, but the r’s and the l’s were much smoother. It had been pinned to her locker with one piece of clear tape.

Who did this?

I am not in the mood to get noticed today, or ever.

She could not figure out who the sender was, or what their intentions were.

When I hear about love letters I snort. Threatening letters are even more cringe. Which one is this?

It's so plain.

She reached out. The page crinkled. She flipped it open. Still nothing. No name. Nowhere. Not even inside the envelope flap.

There’s no hearts. Who the hell wants to fight me? I’ve been extra introverted all year. Maybe for more than a year. My only friend got on a plane when I was fifteen, and I haven’t made another one. Who would spread rumors about me or hate me?

I’m too boring.

Her right ankle had a blister on it. It annoyed her as much as the letter did. Her ponytail was lopsided. The day was done, but she was stuck at her locker, with a crowd gathering around her.

Being boring doesn’t mean I fit in. I know I don’t, but I can’t think of a single name that would write a dramatic letter for me.

Nobody knew how to approach her, because she was known for not being sociable.

Did a teacher do this? Am I about to get a speech from the school guidance counselor about the importance of my average? My grades have been rolling down a cliff all semester. I know they’re important. I used to obsess over them. I don't now, and it still feels strange.

The blister popped.

She desperately wanted to take off her shiny uniform shoes. They were a size too small for her, but she could not afford to replace them. She was on a shoestring budget, and frivolously spending was reserved for fun things, not clothes. Spending money was confusing for her. The most responsible young adult isn’t perfect at budgeting. She had only just touched eighteen, and she didn’t feel any more mature.

Will the sender follow me if I try to leave? If it’s a teacher I’ll just get confronted tomorrow. If someone’s fist wants to be in my face I don’t have anyone to protect me.

She was kind of afraid of the content inside the letter. Eyes were on her. Other teenagers were listening. Locker doors were slamming. The square cubbies weren’t big enough to be useful. Papers tumbled out when sets of shoes in a hurry tried to leave. Everyone carried their real valuables on their backs and in their pockets.

It was just past the end of the day.

I can ignore this.

It’s probably an invitation from the guidance counselor. Some gentle encouragement for a failing student, who might need a session or three.

If only they knew.

If there were any adults in my life I’d be in a hospital bed.

Her thumb nudged under the edge of the envelope. She started to cut it open. She had steady hands. It opened cleanly.

I could drive away and not come back.

I don’t need to come to school anymore.

I’m not going to get better.

Might as well read this. If it’s a vague threat from somebody that doesn’t like me it could be funny.

She coughed under her breath, directly on the letter. The message was just as bland its outer shell.

-Meet me on the rooftop. I’ll wait until seven.-

She flipped it again. That was it. It wasn't signed. The letter was more like a promise. A pointless one with no context. Her ears turned red. The voices around her had decided, by process of elimination, that it was a love letter. All of her enemies had been expelled. She had survived almost four years of vigorous study. Her bullies had not. Being ruthless is an advantage, but you have to be smart enough to back it up. The gaggle of girls who thought she was too poor to attend their school, or exist at all, had been shredded by test scores. She was smart enough to survive school. There just wasn’t a goal to reach for anymore. None of her teachers had threatened her with expulsion yet, because she was supposed to be the good one. The good girl with a lot of grit. The perfect sob story tailor-made to make their exclusive, snobby institution look good. She was tenacious enough and smart enough to outlast people who hated her.

Even though life was lonely at home she still had that victory to hold on to.

I should go up.

How can my life get worse?

If there’s a smart bully waiting for me I’ll just quit school.

She trudged up the stairs, in her uncomfortable shoes. Sweat gathered on her back, under her stiff blouse. She undid the first button on it, because no one could reprimand her. It was after hours, and the janitors were more relaxed than the teachers. Filing a dress code report was not a valuable use of their time. The truly studious students were filing into the library. She listened to them, but their actual conversations didn’t reach her. She just listened to their laughter. There was a lively party in the computer lab two floors below her. She could still hear smiles three floors away. The upper floors were abandoned, because the vending machines and bike racks were bunched together on the ground floor. She undid the ribbon around her neck, and she let it hang.

It's creepy.

Why do the stoners hand out here? The rooftop is a death trap, and the janitors clean it less, because students aren’t supposed to use it.

Her shoes were leaving dust prints on the floor.

The final stairwell was wedged against a wall. A colorful wall covered in advertisements for universities, and trade schools. She teared up a little, because she couldn’t go to any of them. That door had closed for her. She was on borrowed time. That’s what doctors like to call it. When you’re the walking dead people have to be polite about it, or dismissive. Whatever feels better for them.

I don’t hear talking.

It’s not a group of bullies, then.

The last steps were all hollow metal. They rang like bells. The door that led to the rooftop was always open. The smokers, and the failures, liked to skip class there. She had never been so far up. The overhang hangout stank of weed, and gum had been stomped into the metal grill steps. She bumped the door with her shoulder.

The sender wasn’t within eyeshot.

They must be outside.

It was stuck but it creaked eventually. There was a layer of permanent dust on it. Sticky dust. She sneezed when she was free. A gentle wind caressed her face. It tasted fresh after all that dust, and another uneventful day in school.

Should I come back tomorrow?

I don’t want to.

I don’t think I’ll make it to graduation anyway.

Graduating would have made me feel proud of myself. I worked so hard for the right to live like a regular girl, but I’m soft. I dared to have a weak spot, when girls like me are only supposed to think of success.

She looked around. It was like she was in a zoo enclosure. The smokers left messes wherever they went. Their cigarettes butts had dyed the rooftop balcony acid orange. The open air saved her nose from the leftover stench. Her blazer was just thick enough to keep her warm, but winter was coming. A little late, but it was coming. She blew out a puff of air. It didn’t turn into smoke.

It'll be a green Christmas. Maybe a slushy one. I think this is the warmest summer of my life.

It’s the perfect excuse to run, but I don’t have a bucket list.

She had to fix her ponytail. Her hair could not withstand the gentle wind. She had fussy curls. Uneven ones. A curling iron didn’t work on her, and concealer couldn’t cover all of the markings on her face. Her nose looked permanently dusty. Her forehead had spots on it too. The dusting on her cheeks was darker than all the rest. She didn’t like her face, but that hateful feeling was fading. It was hard for her to summon strong emotions, when she was being pulled away. Away into a deep well of exhaustion. She had been sick for too long. Her legs were tired of her bullshit. Her schedule had no more meaning, but she was still going through the motions. Her routine was barely holding her up. Her instincts were poking her, and asking her why she was lingering.

“Rachel…is that you?”

Her striped ribbon fell off. It flew away. Her equally heinous and unfashionable plaid shirt flapped. Her monochrome outfit fluttered in a sudden gust of wind. Her bangs were in her face. Her hair was twirling like a tornado. She couldn’t see him, and she did not recognize him.

“Who are you?”

He caught her ribbon for her. He jumped up to do it.

“We haven’t spoken in a long time, but you saw me at my mother’s funeral. Do you really not remember me?”

His face looked twisted. He looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there. His uniform was not monochrome.

He’s from the school across the street. Bittons. It’s an all-boys place. I didn’t know he went there.

“Hello, Viole. You look different.”

She was trying to be tactful. He looked terrible. His sage and burgundy uniform was falling off of him. He was starvation skinny. He was too tall for his bones, like some teenage boys tend to be. His sleeves were hanging down like a robe. His neat bob of brown hair had grown out incorrectly. It was almost down to his shoulders. His handsome face looked gaunt, especially under the eyes. He was two years younger than her. Just young enough for her to tutor. Arlene’s son wasn’t very good at learning other languages, and that was her specialty. She had been paid well for her work with him.

He was ready to study abroad like every other rich boy, thanks to her French lessons.

“I haven’t spoken to you in five years, I think. Why…hey…do you want to talk about the funeral?”

She was hopeful.

Any outlet for her grief, or any of her feelings, would be a godsend. A gift she would greatly appreciate.

Arlene was his mom. He could be going through emotional shit too. I used to hang out with him, and her, every weekend for tutoring.

Does he need someone more mature to talk to?

Wait.

Why hasn’t he vented to one of his million friends? I know he has a ton. When he was close to passing his French proficiency test I could barely talk to him.

He always had guests. He’s rich. He’s got toys and video games and a car. That brings in friends like flies to shit.

This still doesn’t make sense.

Why would he ever need to share his emotional baggage with me, when we’re childhood friends in name only?

I’m more like his second cousin, twice removed.

Viole shook his head.

“No, I want to talk about you.”

Her head cocked to the side.

“Why?”

She couldn’t fathom why.

“You look sick.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“So what? That’s none of your business. I’m still growing. You look like a twig! Ugh. You’re not here because you’re volunteering, are you? It’s great that you want to be like your mom, but anorexia isn’t something you can solve with a pat on the back. You’re mistaken. I’m fat under this. It’s just baggy. Who told you I was throwing up? There’s too many goody-two-shoes bitches here. I’ll forget about this. Leave.”

She opened her hand.

He needed to give her ribbon back.

She only had one. Her spare had ripped in the wash.

“Can I keep this?”

Her ribbon was tangled around both of his hands. The skin under his wrists looked paler than milk. Much paler than hers, even though she was sick as a dog. His broad shoulders looked like they were about to collapse.

“Why the hell would I let you do that?”

She was sharp as a knife. Spit shot out of her mouth. She was seconds away from yanking it out of his bony hands.

“I love you.”

Her mouth turned down.

There are two classic responses that traditionally come after a confession. Rejection or affirmation. She didn’t choose either of them. She came dangerously close to the truth when she warned him.

“You can’t. You need to move on.”

That sounded pretty final, but he didn’t give her ribbon back.

What kind of cosmic punishment is this? He’s too close to my type, but my feelings aren’t about looks. I don’t know him anymore. He was a brat when I met him. A nice one. Everybody loves him. I’m a scholarship student from the school across the street. There are no scholarship kids in his school. I don’t even live near him. We don’t float in the same social circles.

I thought he forgot me.

That’s why I forgot him, when coming to his house got too awkward. I was too awkward to make myself heard in his crowd of friends.

Viole’s head bowed.

“I missed you, Rachel. When I saw you again I felt guilty. I should have been sad. I was listening to the eulogy, then I saw you. The priest set the flowers down, and I saw you cry. You were crying harder than me. I didn’t expect that. You were always cool in front of me. When you were my tutor you didn’t try to be my friend. We were more like siblings. I thought trying to get close to you was impossible, but then I saw you. I couldn’t forget you. I haven’t. Not ever. These feelings…were coming no matter what. Seeing you in the corner of my eye just made it faster. Please, give me a chance. I fell in love with you all over again, when I saw you cry. I didn’t try to call you because I thought I didn’t miss you. I thought we were friends that drifted apart. I was wrong. I…I don’t want to burden you but…I don’t know if I can get over you.”

She felt awkward.

I should abandon the ribbon.

It’s time to flee.

“You will. The only couple in my class broke up in a week. If you like emotional, sappy girls that’s not me. You caught me at a bad moment.”

His head bowed.

Is he going to cry?

He coughed. It was a wretched sound. It made her heart clench. Both of his hands were pressed up to his mouth. Blood touched her ribbon, but then she looked closer. A crimson petal adorned with pink veins forced it’s way through his fingers.

She looked at him like he was on fire.

“It’s been a year since the funeral! How long do you have left!? Go find someone else right now!”

He blinked slowly.

“I’m too worried about you…to try and move on. You leave school when I do. You’ve changed. You look sad and…”

She pointed at him.

“Do you want to die? Pining is bad for the heart. You learned that shit in kindergarten. You know the risks. Why didn’t you tell me sooner? You’re supposed to confess as soon as it happens…”

Her head was about to implode.

I can’t confess my love. She’s dead. I’m among the very unlucky few. I won the worst lottery. He should have confessed. Then I could have said no. He should be healed by now. His condition has advanced, like mine. The only option is “get over it” if your feelings aren’t returned. It’s a slow process for people in love. I could technically make it if I go on a journey and fall in love with someone else.

What do I do?

What do I say?

I don’t want to be responsible for a death before I die.

If I die.

The petal floated away.

I can use this.

It was slick with red.

Viole tried.

“I didn’t want to burden you. You work so hard. You’re really independent. I know I’m not the kind of guy you like. When I’m not waiting to see you walk by I still think about you. Rachel, can you give me a chance? If it doesn’t work out you can insult me until the roots in my lungs die.”

She put her hands on her hips.

“Don’t try to be funny. You’re putting me in an impossible position.”

He gasped.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t hide it anymore. I know I look sick. I’ll try to give up…if…if you say no.”

She paused.

Isn’t this a good opportunity?

I can’t afford to be picky. I’ve been in shock for months. I can’t let go. I’m not sure if I can get over Arlene. He looks like her. We’re both on borrowed time. If I use him I doubt he’ll complain.

Our lives are on the line.

“Do you want me to say I love you, or something?”

His hands clenched.

“I want to keep this. Let’s start there, and I don’t have your phone number. I don’t want to keep taping letters to your locker. I want to spend time with you.”

She couldn’t doubt him.

There was a cut on his lip.

The thorny petal had sliced it on the way out.

She wheezed.

I don’t want him to know I’m sick too.

“Ok, but if I don’t like you I will rip those roots out of your heart.”

He surprised her when he tied her ribbon into his hair. It was too long. Too big, but he managed to make it sit on his short ponytail.

“You can try.”

 

Chapter 2: Rain

He needs a push.

It started like that. When an adult gives you a sense of purpose you listen. It’s tragically common to see teenagers, who have edged out of being cute into being gawky, get pushed aside. They’re irresponsible. Covered in acne and insecurity too. From the age of twelve plus you experience a sense of otherness. The sense that you aren’t wanted as much by parents or teachers. It’s around that time when adults expect you to start to fend for yourself. Yet, at that crucial moment they don’t tell you want to do. This is confusing enough with parents, and a warm home. Without those your chances of growing and changing get slimmer.

I still remember her voice.

It’s like I spoke to her yesterday.

That’s what she told me that day, the day we met. Before that day she was a name on a sheet. The face on screen that said I deserved a roof on my head. A liberal politician that said all the right things. I thought she was like all the rest. All of those perfect and well-groomed adults who love power. Then, I ended up in her house and I was done for.

Rachel had a social worker and six roommates before Arlene. Six miserly, misery infected roommates that couldn’t wait to be free of the foster system. Roommates that she didn’t want to resemble or be associated with. She thought she had more control than them. She had to. She had to think of their wildness as a flaw, even though normal children were allowed to rebel. Freedom was on their mind instead of success, which was wrong. She didn’t remember any of them, because they had slipped off, into an ocean of city lights. At age eighteen it was like a tradition. The children that aren't cute anymore, without a sense of purpose, fall away like fall leaves.

What else did she say?

I can’t remember what happened next.

She touched my back, and she pushed me closer to her quiet son with a stutter.

As fall passed into winter that year she began to feel old. Aging out of being cute is an alienating experience when there’s no family backing you up.

I used to be blonder, and cuter.

Is that why she picked me?

If I became ugly a year earlier would she have chosen another girl?

Would I be ok?

Rachel was one of those children people liked to call a young adult. She had been chosen, specifically, for an independent living program at the age of fourteen. Arlene had founded the independent dormitory that was still her home. She had to move out within two months , because her time as a child was up, but Arlene had given her many things.

Arlene, the Mayor of Paisley.

Arlene, the pioneer of the independent living facility. The pioneer who steered the homeless into pay-as-you-go rental units. The richest woman in town. The daughter of a doctor. She had modelled as a teen. She was like everyone and everything, in your dreams.

So relatable, until you remember that your dreams aren’t real like hers. Arlene was that kind of woman. A force of nature. A rich and smart and well connected person. Someone that experienced more than any peasant could in her short life.

Forty one sounded old to Rachel, but it’s really not. Arlene had an ageless quality in her memories. Beauty only fades if you don’t have enough of it. The special few last with grace until their last decades. Arlene had spent her entire life pretty in a privileged setting, but Rachel didn’t resent her.

Arlene had reached out.

To her.

Past a certain point age doesn’t matter, and there’s a vulnerable time where a mature love looks extra good. Extra solid. More reliable than the attractive boys on tv. That’s what makes love dig in deep. Rachel still thought she had good taste. There are worse people to fall for, out in the world. It’s relatively easy to pull the seed of a root out of your heart. It’s natural to recognize flaws in the one you love. It’s normal to acknowledge them and move on before you even confess your feelings. Before the seeds can even try to crack open. The disease in her represented an unhealthy state of mind more than anything. She had gotten too attached to the ideal that was Arlene. Her flaws had become more flecks of paint on a beautiful and admirable canvas.

I should hate her.

Arlene was a romantic at heart too. Another attractive bonus. One that stood out to a lonely girl. Arlene had barely survived her husband’s death. The flowers of their mutual love did not make her miss him less. The fact that her heart was taken didn’t bother Rachel, when the woman was still alive. The seeds in her lungs had germinated due to a series of unlucky events.

What am I doing? I don’t have enough time left, and the seeds in Viole will just die when I die. That’s what’s supposed to happen. If there’s nothing to be attached to the roots will wilt. Millions of bereaved spouses move on after a death. Death isn’t regarded as unrequited love. It’s the end. Tragic cases like mine are warped. More senseless than the usual disease, which demands an answer.

I can’t get my answer.

It would have been the end for me, if I got rejected, but I didn’t tell her. I’m the one that left. She didn’t push me away, or tell me to stop visiting her son. I left too much unresolved for myself, and it’s back. I didn’t get checked for seeds.

I didn’t recognize my feelings.

Why would she?

Am I waiting for him because he looks like her?

She was.

Arlene had died of tragically natural causes. Disease cares not for beauty or kindness. Arlene had left behind a lovely corpse. Rachel, at that time, didn’t suspect a thing. Before she arrived at the funeral she thought she was over her crush. Holding the invitation in her hand didn’t make her cough up blood. Seeing Arlene did. If she had chosen to skip the event she would have survived.

I thought it was a crush.

She didn’t know that the end of a crush usually means you take interest in someone else. She didn’t understand that your appearance preferences aren’t supposed to entirely hinge around that crush. She just didn’t, because she had no close female friends who adored love. Yura was a lover of music, who had not been touched by love at all yet. It didn’t come up in her daily conversations, and she didn’t have a mother to warn her.

Mothers are the most desperate champions against Hanahaki Disease. They encourage their children to wait for love, until they can express themselves the right way. They tell their children that it’s alright to fool around and experience crushes that won’t make you burst from within. True love is a taboo unless it goes both ways, so why fight for it, when mutual feelings are so much more rewarding?

Rachel didn’t have the answer to that question. Her perception of feelings and life was tainted by what she lacked. Her shell had made her a thousand times more vulnerable to the seed inside her. The dead version of Arlene was holding her just as hard as the living one. When the one you love is dead it’s too easy to pretend. It’s too easy to claim that they were perfect.

Rachel’s infected lungs thought so.

She pulled a tissue out of her pocket. A ripping cough tore the back of her throat. Phlegm spilled out, and it choked her. She had to spit it out, onto the ground. No one saw her. She was waiting in the corner of the parking lot, and thinking about running away. She pulled out a red petal from under her tongue. She produced at least twenty each day, and each one was painful. Her petals were no longer the pretty signs of lost love seen in movies. Their edges were not soft. Her lungs looked like the rocky bottom of a forest. She was certain that her corpse would be overrun by vines in her last days. Holly berries bloated with blood landed in her toilet in the morning. Her open mouth could not summon a scream against the wave of liquid and plant life.

I think I want to live, but this disease thinks I don’t.

It’s wrong.

Maybe looking into a damaged mirror will be enough.

Accepting love doesn’t mean I have to stay with him forever. I can let him heal me, and I can heal him, if I play along.

If I don’t want to die I need to.

I thought I wanted to see the world.

She crouched.

Another petal was squirming in her throat. She rested her head on her knees. It was pounding. She didn’t think it was possible to lose so much blood and not die.

Especially not daily.

I feel disgusting.

She didn’t want to think about love or falling in love. Liking Arlene was buried in her default settings. Arlene's tasteful bungalow was the first family home she had ever spent time in. She didn’t think of herself as a particularly sentimental person, but the pain in her chest disagreed. If Rachel was a little older and wiser she would know that her tough outer shell didn’t make her more mature. Her growing pains were making the pain of her illness stronger.

Being confessed to didn’t feel bad, but he’ll change his mind soon.

I need one fleeting crush to save me from...this...

It was starting to rain. Water rushed out of the pipe next to her. It came down in a mist.

Great.

We were supposed to go for a walk. I know Viole fairly well, but I’m not comfortable going back to that house. It will just remind me of Arlene. She had her own spot in her house. A wicker armchair, surrounded by books, and a heated blanket.

I lost my fucking mind at the funeral. I don’t want to have a breakdown in front of that chair.

If I’m in the same amount of pain after a month I should go on a road trip. Viole’s kind of the only thing keeping me here now. I’ve been confessed to. I learned what love is…kinda. I should see the world before it ends for me.

She heard a splash. Her head jerked up. The humidity had ruined her curls. She was in her plainest, whitest t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. Her uniform was getting soggy in her bag, which had been abandoned on the way ground. She picked it up.

Is that him?

She didn’t catch him until she turned around. Viole was coming from the wrong direction.

“Sorry I’m late. I had to iron my jacket.”

He went home to change.

I wish I cared that much.

Her raised eyebrows refused to lower. He wasn’t in a full blown suit, which was a mercy, but his black blazer was distinctly formal. It made his skinny frame look slightly less dead.

A wide umbrella unfurled, and he offered her his hand.

She waited for her heart to flutter.

Come on.

It didn’t, but she took his hand anyway. She noticed the effect of that immediately. Viole was a lot less sick in her presence. He was trying to hide the severity of his condition the same way she was.

He wasn’t as skilled at lying, though.

I’ll save him with the truth if I have to. He’ll stop pining if I say I want his mom instead of him. That’s my back up plan. I’m not killing him. I’m not taking that to my grave, but I have to try to live. I feel like I haven’t even started my life.

His eyes are shaped like hers.

She touched his cheek. He held the umbrella over them both. His purple undershirt did not match his jacket, and he was wearing jeans too. They were equally unfashionable, in different ways.

Her ribbon was securely tied into his hair.

“I’ll buy you another ribbon today, if you want.”

Boys like to get gifts from the girl they like, right?

He didn't say yes. He asked her a question instead.

“What’s your favorite color?”

Water was rolling down the umbrella. Some of it was hitting her back. It was just big enough for both of them, but a hint of wind ruined that. His sneakers were just as wet as hers.

“Burgundy.”

She pulled his chin down. His eyes looked too gold up close. They weren’t quite right, and his jaw was too square, but she kissed him. She didn’t do it entirely out of pity. She did it because she was familiar with his pain. A temporary cure was worth more than a million dollars for her. She would kiss a frog to relieve it for an hour. Affection makes the roots loosen, but only returned love stops the spread. She wasn’t solving the problem. Her kiss could very likely make it worse, but she liked what she saw. Viole didn’t let the umbrella drop out of his shaking hand.

Their lips parted.

“I like the one I have. I’ll buy you a burgundy ribbon.”

She thought that was romantic, but her heart remained the same. Despite her short window of time she couldn’t see a good ending.

Not for her, anyway.

His mismatched colors, and his freshly ironed suit, were more charming than his handsome face. She felt that, but it wasn’t enough. She hated that.

She choked up.

She couldn’t say more than one word without sobbing. Her back felt freezing cold. Rain was sliding down her neck. Her sobs would end in denial and regret and the truth that he would never be ready to hear.

She didn’t say it.

“Ok.”

Chapter 3: Run

I didn’t know what being sick actually is before this.

She rubbed her eyes.

They felt sticky.

It’s not caring.

It’s not thinking.

It’s not being anything, ever.

Seeing Viole is the only thing that motivates me to go out. Getting dressed is starting to feel like a war.

I'm losing.

I don’t think I like him. I’d know.

If I did I wouldn’t be bleeding. I have a permanent low-grade fever and pain pills don’t do anything.

I haven’t improved at all.

Her hair tie had snapped in half. Her bangs were puffy and messy. Washing her face felt good, but her knees were weak for the wrong reason. Her sickness has not gotten much worse, but her condition was worsening overall.

Damn it.

The human body can only take so much. More pain doesn’t make it easier to deal with. She was being worn down, like an old wooden bridge that had to deal with modern traffic. Splinters of her were on the floor. Perfectly round red spots were lined up behind her. They almost looked like candy.

A naïve witness would never guess they were blood.

I haven’t slept.

When did that become normal? When did I stop freaking out? Seeing spots used to make me feel afraid. I used to lie awake at night wondering when I’d get over this. I used to be annoyed by it, and then nothing.

If I was attached to a heart monitor the line would be flat. I do want to live, but being sick takes so much out of you.

Her freckled face was too pale. She almost didn’t remember the old her. The disease in her was a slow one. It was feeding on her and making her harder to recognize by the day.

I look like a fucking druggie.

Rachel was alone, in a public bathroom, hunched over. Her hands were gripping the edge of the cheap linoleum counter. Everything should have been white, but she was in an old building. The ceiling panels were stained. The mirror that was holding her unattractive reflection hostage had rust on it. The only garbage bin was full of popcorn bags. Butter was sticking to the bottom of her shoes. Not one but two suckers were stuck to the side of the overflowing bin.

She washed her hands.

A cough was building up.

I’m sicker than him.

It’s so unfair. My presence makes him feel better, but I don't get the same benefit until I let go. I’ve been coughing for more than ten minutes. It has to be over.

Her episodes sounded relatively short to the untrained ear. It’s perfectly normal for a human to shrug off a few minutes of coughing. Inhaling wrong once can destroy you for a minute, but she wasn’t coughing for a minute. The difference between ten and one is an eternity. By the end her brain was always struggling for air. Her coughing fits were more like drowning. When you’re under there’s a high chance of water invading your lungs. The smallest amount can cause catastrophic organ failure. Rachel was breathing in blood, which causes a similar effect. It’s a unique torture that assaults victims with the love borne disease.

I don’t want him to see me. If he comes in the check on me I’ll run. I don’t want to be pitied. I don’t want to be helped.

I just want to hang out with somebody who likes me, before I die.

If that saves me, great, but I get what I want if I don’t make it too.

Dying in the street immediately after getting out of assisted living is too pathetic.

Rachel touched her neck. She rubbed it to double check, and then she felt a tickle.

One that wasn’t supposed to be there.

She sobbed.

“I…I just did it…why…ugh…”

There is no reasoning with a sickness. Her lonely cries didn’t get her any pity, even when she doubled over.

“Uck…”

Her head fell, and she coughed, but no sound came out. The petals in her throat silenced her then. She was at the mercy of her body. If her muscles couldn’t push out the next bloom that was it for her. Her date would find her curled up, killed by asphyxiation. The tip of one petal pushed through her teeth. The petals that came out of her were dryer than paper, but they were also wet with blood. The lubricant managed to push them out. Rachel was left gasping, with her cheek resting on the inside of the sink near the drain.

Three.

It used to be two.

I just got used to two.

It will only get worse. That’s how it works. I have to cough up plants three times a day now.

When will I have time to eat? When can I sleep? I’m a nuisance in class now. My neighbors think I’m a poor, stupid, lazy, sick girl. My classmates feel the same way.

I’ve got no one to turn to, except the boy I might kill.

Fruit flies investigated her blood stains, but they quickly returned to the suckers, which were a much tastier source of food. In her stupor she saw bugs eating her corpse, after the sweeter choices on the menu were gone.

I remember having the flu. I had to take antibiotics. I didn’t think I was going to die. I knew I was going to get better, but I haven’t forgotten the pain. Since I remember it so vividly I know this is worse. Sometimes I wish I would fall into a coma. Hanahaki does that sometimes. Maybe I’d meet my ideal true love in my dream, and live in bliss until an overworked doctor decides to pull the plug.

She got up. Her school uniform was only slightly rumpled. Her life was falling apart on every front. She didn’t feel the need to dress up for dates at all anymore. She wandered around town and ate discount salad bowls late at night. Going home made her feel sick at heart. Younger kids were moving in. She was supposed to be moving out and using her grades to get a scholarship, but that ship had already sailed. There was no way to get that chance back. The rumors about her had already spread. The nearby colleges had blacklisted her. She didn’t need to guess, or theorize, or even ask her teachers. She damn well knew that picking favorites means that the unworthy fall. Teachers are particularly heartless like that. Her truancy and misbehavior had birthed a new charity favorite. Someone more worthy of a scholarship and the privilege of standing next to the rich kids. She didn’t know who it was, but that’s how the system works.

If you aren’t exceptional someone else will be. That’s what I heard behind closed doors while the normal kids were at the mall.

Why haven’t I been expelled yet?

Blood slid out of her mouth. She pulled her head out of the sink. She cranked the tap, but it was clogged. The puddle of water cleaned the two petals she had coughed up. They were pretty. Holly leaves edged with her red leftovers. Their sharp spines had cut her deep down.

I quit.

She looked into her own eyes.

I’m not going to school tomorrow. Everything I did is gone, and I’ve been cast aside. I’m no longer favored by the teachers, and I didn’t make any friends. Yura called me last week, but we don’t video chat anymore.

There's nothing left to regret.

I need to go on that trip.

She trudged out of the bathroom, back into the movie theater, half blind. Viole had brought her to a very romantic place, as usual. The theater he had carefully chosen was on the verge of collapse. It was too far away from any of the local schools to attract any kids. Most of the movie buffs present were sixty years of age or higher.

Mr. Sheffield’s Movie Parlor looked like it had not been dusted in months. The popcorn popping in the popcorn machine was hopping behind a wall of milky glass. Most of the snacks were expired and flavored with filth.

None of Viole’s loving friends knew where he was. All of their dates were private, in secluded places, and she liked that. She had spent too much of her life as a third wheel. Yura was too popular. When she was with Yura she always ended up on the grass, trailing behind three or more cute girls on the sidewalk. Being with Viole was nice. Even enjoyable. After almost a month with him she didn’t feel the need to posture. His money was pretty much irrelevant to her. She was in too much pain to take advantage of his credit card. He did pay for their dates, but she didn’t feel like a gold digger. Most of his date ideas were straightforward. Simple and sweet. They had gone on more than a dozen walks. Their worthless chatter had been replaced with amicable silence.

He knew she was sick.

His cheeks were redder than hers. He didn’t have to excuse himself to go to the bathroom one too many times. His short ponytail was still growing, and some of his expensive clothes were more unfashionable than rags. He was wearing burgundy stripes, and jeans that were too tight. His bulky black jacket made him look even smaller.

She was cold.

“Can I have that?”

He wrapped it around her shoulders.

“I bought the tickets.”

I know you did.

“Thanks. I don’t want snacks. Let’s go.”

She held his hand, His bomber jacket enveloped her down to the knee. She had a burning question for him. It was slicing another hole in her throat.

He's got a bright future. I can’t do that to him. I’m stuck in town if I want to use him. I’ve seen his phone. When he’s out with me he gets ten messages. He’s way more likely to fall out of love than I am, judging my all the hearts in his inbox.

Arlene was such a big part of my life, and he’s just her kid to me. Even now that’s all he is, even though I’ve been kissing him for a month. My mouth tastes like blood. He’s got a chance.

Her ribbon was still in his hair.

I should chase him off.

They were approaching the ticket both.

“Come with me.”

Her voice deepened, because her shredded throat made her groan.

His eyes looked like true gold under the fluorescent lights.

“What?”

She forgot how to blink.

“I’m quitting school. I’m…I’m getting on a train to climb the mountains, and see the sea, and look at the stars. I don’t really have a place to live. In a few months I’ll get kicked out anyway. I’ve already flunked. I did the math. Even if I manage to pass my finals there’s no way for me to make it. I didn’t think about traveling before. I was a good girl. I dressed in frumpy clothes. I helped out at the food bank. I was a babysitter, and I tutored other kids besides you. I lived not for myself but for my grand future. I was told that everything would come together when I was twenty five, or thirty, or dead. Whatever comes first. I don’t care if people think I’m a good person anymore. I want to walk on the sea when it’s frozen. There’s an observatory two towns away, but I’ve never been there, even though astronomy is my hobby. There’s drawings of constellations in my room. I can prove it, but I didn’t go because I had a budget. Now…I…I wanna sneak in and use the telescope and…”

He covered her mouth.

The pimply ticket boy was coming towards them.

“You guys can’t fight in here.”

Viole turned on his customer service charm.

“We weren’t fighting. I had to cancel one of our dates. I’m getting chewed out. I sort of deserve it. I’m too busy with cram school. We’re ready to go in.”

Pimples looked down on her. She didn’t look like the sort of girl that was allowed to lash out at her boyfriend. She looked like a hanger on. The fourth member next to a much closer trio. A nobody next to a somebody, but bullying her was below his pay grade. He had to get back to the important task of watching porn on his phone.

“You’ve been warned. Any more yelling and you’re out.”

Her eyes were burning. Viole was pulling her forward. Pimples took their tickets, and then it was time to find a seat. An elderly couple was coughing four rows above them.

Viole had bought tickets to a tragedy, but she didn’t know that yet.

When she sat down defeated his lips touched her ear.

He whispered in it.

“I’ll buy a car. We have to pack, and then we can go.”

Astonishment pushed her tears out.

“You have your license?”

He blinked.

“I got it when I was sixteen. Didn’t you?”

She shook her head.

“I can’t afford a car in this lifetime, so I didn’t want to pay for lessons. The buses here are good…that’s just an excuse. I was scared of spending money.”

His shoulder was touching hers.

“Don’t be. We can’t go to a dealership, because we both look young. I’ll buy a used car from someone local. We’ll go on a shopping spree, and leave my mother’s town behind. This whole place belongs to her. The new mayor still follows her policies. There’s a statue of her down the street. I feel the same way you do, Rachel. I want to see the rest of the world for myself. I’ve been told that this town is perfect my whole life. I can’t think of a faster way to fall in love than getting away from here.”

She should have resisted.

“Do you resent your mom?”

Viole looked at the screen. Lights were flashing in his eyes. They were both equally pale now, under the glare of the projector.

“I’m curious. My family has money, but we don’t travel. Not really. Going to a resort doesn’t count. I’m not being spoiled, trust me. Everything is controlled. Everyone has to be friendly, because it’s what they’re paid to do. I think I’ve become soft, because I’m too used to being waited on. I do extracurriculars, and I wanted to do an internship, but those aren’t real challenges. Everybody involved in those things knows my last name. An adventure with you is something that I would never willingly pass up. The cops will have to stop us.”

She snorted.

“They can’t throw us in jail for quitting school.”

Viole fiddled with his striped sleeve.

“My friends can report me missing, though.”

She inhaled.

“Right. Hmm.”

The film was about to start. Her chin landed in her hand, and she thought about their next move.

“How much cash can you take out of the bank without making your card company suspicious?”

Chapter 4: Road

My chariot awaits.

She swiped her key card. Most of her worldly possessions had been shoved into a dumpster. She didn’t own anything that deserved a rental storage unit. Leaving her used and useless worldly possessions behind felt good. There wasn't much left to her name. Her backpack, and her gym bag, were packed tightly with clothes and hygiene necessities.

She looked at her card key.

Her old face was smiling up at her.

Security is going to deactivate this in two weeks. I don’t have an address.

I don’t need this.

She tossed it away, and her secure identity key landed in a dirty pile of snow. The parking lot was frosty. Three cars were idling near the door. Most of her neighbors carpooled. She wasn’t the only resident without a license, and the bus overhang across the street was overpopulated. She wasn’t in her school uniform. She watched black and white skirts dart across to get to the bus, and she didn’t crack. She didn’t follow them.

I can’t pretend anymore.

Her hoodie was extra bulky. There was a thick grey sweater underneath. She suspected that her journey was going to be very cold and challenging.

Even if Viole managed to get a lot of money that doesn’t mean we can waste it. Living in hotels will bankrupt us.

I’m gonna have to live in this sweater.

Her best jeans were navy blue, and her short boots were discolored with age. They were supposed to be blue too, but she couldn’t afford to buy new winter boots every other year. Her cheeks began to sting. The wind was howling. The roads were busy. Her dorm room sized apartment was empty. Exhaust pipes were smoking and twenty young car owners were trying to warm up their frozen windshields. Scrapers were scratching over windows.

Nobody noticed her.

It was just another Tuesday morning, and they had to get to school.

They had part time jobs to worry about.

I signed the papers to get in here when I was thirteen. Independent dorm living wasn’t bad. I thought I was doing well, but now that I look at it…it doesn’t look like a friendly place. The girls from my school don’t like to hang out in this parking lot, because this is where kids drink. They run across the street to avoid contact with the poor kids.

Smoking is cool.

Drinking stolen beer is what losers do. I don’t know why that’s the case, but it is. I can see a six pack in the backseat of that car.

She looked for Viole. Her heels slid over ice. He had to find her, because his car wasn’t remarkable, and he was at the very edge of the lot.

He rushed over to her.

“Good morning, Rachel.”

His hair had been tamed by an awful lime green winter hat. His scarf was long enough for two. The lump of purple cotton was wrapped around his neck twice.

“You look warm.”

I’m jealous.

I’m cold.

Even when I’m under five sheets.

She kissed him, because she was supposed to, and nobody was watching.

Her public display of affection didn’t even lift an eyebrow.

She liked the way he relaxed when she kissed him.

She did want to feel the same way, when she was looking at him. As soon as she wasn’t her lovelorn mind forgot, but she had to believe that sincere feeling would stick soon. When she tried to cling to it she failed, and it crumbled.

Dates aren’t working.

Maybe adventure will knock Arlene out of my brain.

Viole held both of her hands.

“You forgot your gloves.”

She looked down.

“I don’t have a pair.”

He just smiled, and took of his.

“I have an extra set in my suitcase. These are too thick for driving. You can wear them.”

He took her to the car, which was actually a van. It looked like the stunted cousin of a normal van. The light brown vehicle rode low to the ground, and the front of it was flatter than a pugs face.

“Is this thing safe to drive?”

Viole hopped in the drivers seat. He leaned over, and pushed the passenger side open. When she approached she noticed a clean smell. It was minty, and three air fresheners shaped like pine trees were hanging on the rear-view mirror.

“The owner was having trouble selling this car. He got it professionally cleaned. I thought that was a good sign. It's less beat up than the other ones I saw online, and I got it for less than a thousand. The back seats can be flattened down into a double sized bed. It’s a sleeper van, from the eighties. I bought double sheets, some new gloves, refillable water bottles, and a mini fridge.”

She craned her neck. The mini fridge had been tied in place with a belt, behind her seat. Viole had also flattened out the back seats. The bed was already made. The windows came with blinds that could be closed with a snap.

It looks survivable.

I’ve slept in worse places.

“Thank you, Viole.”

Something in her was melting.

“I’ve been thinking about quitting school for months. I don’t know why I didn’t do it sooner. Leaving your daily schedule behind feels so wrong. I put so much…”

He patted her shoulder.

He’s not a forceful guy. We don’t kiss much, but he touches my shoulder and arm every day.

It’s like I’m a dog that he really wants to pet.

“It’s not wrong. You can’t focus. You’ve been sick for too long, and I’m the same. There’s no point in going on like this. Don’t tell me to bring the car back. Tell me it’s time to go.”

She pushed a button, and the radio turned on.

He knew that meant yes.

Every channel was infected with static. The antenna on the hood was too old to provide high quality music. She turned her phone off, and she slouched in the passenger seat. Viole inched out of the parking lot.

I’m running away from home.

That’s what this is, right?

Does it still count if nobody is looking for you?

The van couldn’t turn very smoothly, so Viole went extra slow. The other drivers could clearly see how old the van was, so they stayed a respectful distance away. The heater wasn’t very powerful. She blinked tears away, and she listened to music until her muddled mind stopped trying to punish her. Throwing away her diploma made her feel like trash. The same uneducated, unmotivated trash she used to make fun of.

She did not miss the irony.

Her mouth stayed shut. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know why he was so willing to run. If she didn’t stay quiet the question would slip out, and she didn’t want to pity Viole. She needed to like him. She had to see him as a man, just once, to make all the pain go away. Hearing his real story would muddle that with the pain of reality and another uncomfortable truth. Deep down she didn’t think his life could ever be as hard as hers. His trust fund made him harder to empathize with, and if she started to hate him it was game over for her.

She flicked the button.

Country music that ranted about mountain ranges and boobs in the same sentence blared.

“What did you think of the movie?”

Her hands latched on to her seatbelt. Viole had vanished for two days after their movie date. It takes time to buy a car and disappear. They had not spoken since then. It was an innocent topic to start with.

It should have been, but she started to sweat. Viole had taken her out to see a highly controversial film. An indie flick about obsessive love and one of the rarer variants of the disease currently in her body.

“I didn’t see the beginning, because we were too busy talking. Hanahaki Line didn’t get licensed in English, so I didn’t think I’d ever see it. I only knew it existed because it got some kind of award when it was released in Japan. I tuned out half of it.”

She tried to end the topic there, but then the van hit open road. The last gas station bar was a five minute drive away.

They were almost out of town.

“Did you like the ending?”

Her heart clenched. She was holding on with all her strength.

“I did some reading, Viole. Despite everything I know you're kind of lucky. You've got the common variant, right? The roots are in your lungs…n…not your skull. It was an artsy film, that’s for sure. I figured out the plot twist before that close up shot of the back of her head. Hana was an ok main character. I caught on to the most obvious hints. She couldn’t remember any names, so we didn’t get to see any other named characters. It was just her. Alone. The whole time. She was following someone she loved, or maybe not. When she died…I think the actress tried to show us that she was following the wrong couple. She was so jealous of them. So convinced that what she wanted was right there, but when she collapsed I don’t think he recognized her. The couple didn’t even know they were being stalked. They just kind of…shuffled away from her to call the cops. Hana couldn’t remember who she was looking for.”

Viole disagreed.

“Near the end she forgot which half of the couple was her lover. It was the man. That’s what the first half of the film was about. He didn’t recognize her because she was dirty. In the final scene she’s only got the clothes on her back left. She lived on the street, and followed them, for several months before she deteriorated. She was too different for him to recognize.”

She inhaled.

“Oh…that’s worse.”

They reached the highway, and the van sped up.

“I like your interpretation though. That would be a good short film.”

She touched the radio again, and death metal assaulted her ears. It scrubbed her mind clean, and she pushed Hana’s grimy body out of it.

“I thought you were inviting me to see something romantic. I gagged when I looked up and saw a stalker.”

Frost bloomed on the windshield.

Mirth and warmth snuck into Viole’s eyes, and he tried to be funny.

“So, did I successfully scare you into loving me?”

She growled.

“No. It’s such a…patronizing message. Don’t let unreciprocated feelings build up kids. Don’t be clingy. It’s bad. Blah blah blah. You’ll turn into a creep with no life. Put yourself first. I’ve heard it all before, and I believed it too. Maybe it didn’t get famous because it was too simple. Everybody who isn’t in kindergarten has learned that lesson already.”

Snow was falling.

“I worry about you when you’re sick. I'm sorry. I chose that movie because I've been waiting for you to tell me.”

The back of her neck prickled.

He didn't stop.

“I thought you’d jump into my arms if you were scared. That’s why I wanted to see a horror movie at first, but I want you to give up too. I chose that specific one to get under your skin. I thought…seeing a character like Hana would make you realize how futile suffering alone is. I shouldn’t have done it. There was a classic romance movie playing next door, but I had this fantasy. When you saw her die I imagined you looking back at me like I could save you.”

She let that sink in.

“You sound like Hana.”

He didn’t think that was funny.

His eyes looked a little too wide.

“Maybe I do. Rachel, when were you going to tell me?”

She turned up the radio.

He didn't ask her who her true love was.

He waited for her.

"I wasn't...going to. You confronted me in the first place because I look like shit. I didn't think it would stay a secret for long. I haven't told anyone, so I couldn't get the words out."

He spoke instead of the host. He drowned out the radio, but she could still hear the static.

“I want to be honest with you. I love you, and when you watch someone you love suffer you think about strange things. No more scary movies. I can't trick you into loving me. Where do you want to go? Our budget is about twenty four thousand.”

She was impressed.

“That’s a lot of money.”

They were alone on the road.

There were no other cars.

Everyone else was at work.

“It’s half of my credit card limit. I still have my phone, but I don’t want to get tracked so we have to use yours. We can stay in a couple of nice hotels if you want. If we stay in here every night we’ll start to hate it.”

She gave into temptation yet again.

“Ok, where’s the nearest four star hotel?”

He fiddled with his clunky GPS screen. It was stuck above the radio.

“It’ll take an hour to get there. We can think about what we want to do next, before we go further.”

She looked at him.

From the side he looks so much like Arlene. Even his chin is like hers, even though he's a boy.

Am I doomed?

What do I do next? Do I break his heart to save him, or do I keep trying to live?

Why am I being punished with such an impossible choice, when I tried so hard to be good?

A red line of blush started to spread on his cheek, because she was staring at him.

I hate myself. 

I should have lied and said I'm recovering from pneumonia.

Now that he knows I have to hide the rest of my secret.

She could not smile.

I wonder what kind of face he would show me, if I tell him he's just a replacement for his mother.

Chapter 5: Rude

She had to sign for the room, because she was eighteen. She looked old enough, and that was all that mattered. It was late. She didn’t get questioned. Four star hotels look nicer, but certain rules bend after midnight. They were paying in cash, so the concierge didn’t like them. Good customers are supposed to use credit cards, and points cards, and coupons at check in. Viole’s stack of cash was an affront. An anomaly. The concierge had to open a safe to get them change. Nobody escorted them upstairs. Viole pushed a metal trolley with his suitcase and her gym bag on it. A silver elevator beeped, and then they had a double queen room for eight precious hours.

She leaned on a wall.

“We should use hotel rooms when we need to shower.”

Viole pressed the right button, and the elevator moved up.

“If there’s a storm we should get one too. Winter is supposed to be mild this year, but there’s always one big storm. We chose a bad time of year to live in a van.”

She crossed her arms, and walked by his side. Her curls were a mess, and he had horrendous hat hair.

“Don’t you hate me?”

He didn’t stop pushing the trolley.

“Why should I?”

He sounded genuinely curious, so she enlightened him.

“You got the truth out of me. Your creepy movie worked. You like me, but I’m using you to try and get better. Don’t you…not love me anymore? Aren’t you going to give up? Somebody else drove me to this. If it was you we’d be celebrating right now. Your confession would have saved us both, but here we are. Do you really want to bounce from a van to a hotel until your chest turns black?”

Viole glared at her.

“There are no roots on my chest. What about you? How often do you check?”

He was serious.

She almost thought he was going to lift her shirt up.

She covered herself protectively.

“If I was that far gone I’d be in a hospital bed. Relax.”

Her ribbon was about to fall out of his hair. He was in better shape, but he was sick too. He looked like he needed to sit down.

They found their room. The four star hotel beside the highway was serviceable, not luxurious. It was a business hotel. There was a business center next to the lobby. Guests were allowed to use printers, a gym, a fax machine and conference rooms during their stay. That was how it had achieved its prestigious four star rating. It was a functional office away from home. The Greyling was not a fun place for runaway teenagers. They didn’t fit in, and the concierge knew it. That was why Viole was pushing his own trolley, even though their queen accommodation suite was four hundred bucks a night.

She tapped the key.

It unlocked, and she entered a room that felt too spacious. The screen in front of the beds was slim and modern. The beds were grey and silver. Even the frames were made of grey wood. Winter woods had been framed on the walls. The trees in the paintings were black, like the roots in her chest.

I lied again. They look grey, not black, but I don’t know how I’m functioning at this point.

“I’m using the bathroom first.”

She showered. Her hands pressed against the wall. Her head fell, and steaming hot water burned her. She stayed there, until she couldn’t feel her own skin. When the water stopped flowing she had to cough, and wash blood out of her mouth six times. By the time she was finished the complimentary bottle of mouthwash was empty. Somehow, blood had sprayed on the pure white hand towel next to her. Spots, dots and drips from her coughing were on the mirror too. She flushed the sharp holly down the toilet, and unzipped her gym bag. Her pajamas were yet more grey t-shirts and sweaters. She didn’t have enough patience left to dry her hair, so she let it drip on her back.

When she emerged Viole herded her back in.

The hair dryer turned on.

When the heat touched her she sighed.

It was a good sigh.

“Thank you. I was rushing because I know you need to wash off too.”

He corrected her.

“You were being lazy.”

She blushed.

“Stop acting like you know me. We haven’t been friends for years.”

He blasted hot air in her face.

“Shut up. You practically lived in my house forever. I know you. You can pretend that you don’t know me, for now, but you tutored me four days a week. You slept over most of the time too.”

She dodged the blast.

“Ugh. Fine. Give that to me. I want to use it now.”

He handed her the hair dryer. His jacket was gone. He was built like a wire fence. Parts of him needed to be filled in. She could see what shape he was supposed to be. He was supposed to be a quintessentially attractive tall boy, but he was a mess.

Because of her.

She blasted him with hot air until he left the bathroom. When it was his turn she didn’t hear him cough.

The shower turned on.

That’s good. He has more time than me. He’s stubborn but the mom thing is my last card. It’s foolproof too. If he knew even half of my feelings for her he'd be disgusted.

I slept over to see her.

I didn’t care about him.

That kind of betrayal will crack his arrogance in two.

She heard the dryer whirr. When he heard hit the grey pillow pile her chest felt stuffy. She struggled to breathe evenly, but she closed her eyes.

Viole came out. His t-shirt was black, and a cloud of steam followed him. His forehead was brick red.

“I like hot showers too.”

He sat down on his separate bed, and she smirked.

“What? Rachel?”

She winked, and it was only half a joke.

“Don’t you want to sleep with me?”

He launched himself across the room. His knee landed next to her, and she grunted when his elbow slammed into her side.

He didn’t say sorry.

“You feel cold. I’ll help you. You just had to ask. I'm here.”

She yelped. His arms caught her. Her yellow eyes bugged out, and he reached up to turn the last lamp off. Then he fumbled with a remote to kill the overhead lights. They were together, in the dark, and he didn’t know about the grey veins in her chest that almost looked black. Being cuddled was outside of her frame of reference. Arlene, her only love, wasn’t very touchy. She preferred to convey her feelings with words and rewards. When Viole cuddled up to her she realized that he wasn’t like that. His way of expressing himself was a lot healthier than she expected. His hair was still warm to the touch. It was like she was sleeping next to a cinnamon bun. His manly antiperspirant smelled strongly of the stuff. It clogged up her nose, but she already couldn’t breathe, so she didn’t complain. Her fingers wiggled under him, and she hugged him back. His head rested on her chest, and she didn’t push him off. She didn’t feel any perverted intentions in him. It was like he was a thousand times colder than she was. If he could coil around her like a snake he would. She didn’t doubt that. His head bumped into her chin. His knee pushed between her legs so more of him could be hugged. Her body actually heated up for once, and she was able to fall asleep.

She dreamed of him and his mother because, even in dreamland, she could not escape Arlene.

It was a nostalgic dream.

.

She woke up last. The first thing she saw was Viole’s eyes. He didn’t bother to pretend to be asleep. She untangled her trapped leg, and they broke apart, and she noticed that the coldness in her chest had moved down.

 It's in my stomach now too.

They both showered again. She used all of the free coconut cream body wash she could find. She wasted three bottles, and she filled the tub too. Without school or a schedule all she had to worry about was staying warm, and love. When Viole finished drying his hair their time was up. Their room rudely locked behind them, and she felt motivated to steal. She rushed out of the elevator to the complimentary breakfast station. She looked the concierge dead in the eye when she took a whole bag of croissants. He didn’t say anything when she shoved them in her gym bag, because yelling at her would disturb the peace. Viole drank two coffees in quick succession. They microwaved two ham sandwiches, and an entire full plate of eggs. The concierge almost choked to death watching them. She was smiling the whole time. Nothing brought her to life quite like mischief, and Viole was happy to indulge her. He filled up two more paper cups with green tea, and they left.

Viole halted jerkily in front of a brochure stand.

“Hold these.”

She took the teas.

He picked up about fifteen brochures. Most of them were Christmas themed, and badly photoshopped.

He looked confident.

“These will be our next dates.”

She pointed at one, and he flipped it over.

“The Friday Harbor Christmas market? That’s really far away from the observatory, Rachel.”

Affection welled up in her heart, but it wasn’t love.

“The observatory can wait. It’ll be open after Christmas. I don’t do holiday stuff, but now I’m with you. I think I want to buy some overpriced jam and candles.”

He looked hesitant.

“We can’t burn candles in the van.”

She had a solution.

“Well, we can set up camp and have a candle lit dinner.”

He looked flabbergasted.

“Are you trying to be romantic?”

The stolen cups of tea were burning her hands.

“I’m not sure. I’ve seen candle lit dinners in movies, and I want to do that. You owe me after that scary date.”

Viole tried to strategize.

“We can do it in a park. There’s lots of Christmas tree displays. I think that would be nice. Rachel, are you blushing?”

Her cheeks were burning too, because she was smiling too hard. The grey roots in her chest had darkened and denial could not save her. The clean hotel mirror could not lie.

When he leaned forward she didn’t expect a kiss. She initiated kisses. That was the way it was, during the whole month they had spent together. His kiss was light as a feather, and his eyes were like sweet chocolate up close. More sweetness bled into his voice and his kiss. It didn’t end for a long time. When their lips separated the concierge was advancing like a vengeful warrior. The dramatic kissing display had disturbed breakfast in the lobby. Old men in meetings were staring. The laptops in the business center had stopped clicking.

Viole grabbed her wrist.

She dropped both cups of tea. They cracked open and rolled across the red welcome carpet. The rude concierge slipped and fell on his ass. They ran back to the van, which did stick out surrounded by corporate cars. Viole gunned the engine, and it stalled, but they made it out of the parking lot full of adrenaline.

“Last night you asked me why I’m not giving up.”

She looked down at her feet.

Her boots had green tea on them.

“I did.”

They were speeding.

“I’m only like this with you. I don’t want to be…who I am without you. I don’t like that guy. He’s a snob. When you’re not around I’m lonely, even when I’m with my friends. When you left that didn’t change. It was like you were in my ear, taunting me. Telling me how much fun you were having without me, with your own friends. I’ve been wanting to knock on your door, and visit you, for a long time. I wanted you to miss me.”

She touched his shoulder.

“Slow down.”

Early morning traffic started to grow around them.

“Ok.”

Viole followed the speed limit, and they made it to the Christmas market in one piece.

Chapter 6: Rose

They decided to sleep in the parking lot. The Friday Harbor Christmas Market was deep in cottage country. It closed early. Nothing in the area was open late. An actual choir was singing, and they sounded more in sync than a flock of birds. Waves were lapping the shoreline. The harbor wasn’t frozen. The mild winter had brought too much mud, and paper thin ice that couldn’t be used for fishing. The polar dip competition had been cancelled, because the water wasn’t chilly enough to challenge competitive competitors.

The festive atmosphere of the market was dying down, even though a few hours were left. A couple of stands were packing up early. Luckily for her fifty percent of the merchants present were selling candles. There were plenty left to choose from.

She approached a woman that was mostly scarf. Her scarf was somehow bigger than Viole’s cotton monstrosity.

“May I have a rose scented candle? No, two.”

Viole gave her some cash, and then the transaction was done. The harbor in winter possessed a peculiar kind of beauty. Bare branches were rattling above them, but the shoreline was made of shattered stone. She wanted to dip her feet in, even though it wasn’t the right season for that.

“I would love to live in a cabin out here.”

She glanced back at Viole.

“Are you sure? Do you think you would make it without all of the rich boy comfort you’re used to?”

He did not doubt himself.

“I wouldn’t miss it, and I would bring you with me.”

She eyed a sloped cabin in the woods, across the water. The stillness of it didn’t scare her. The dark cabin looked like a peaceful place, free from the chaos and drama of society.

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Viole held her hand. His other hand was occupied. She had bought eight candles in total. All of them were heavily perfumed and wider than her hand. Viole had to help her carry them all. The Christmas market merchants did not mess around. Each candle was decorated with reindeer stickers, fake holly, and cheap painted golden bells.

“Two hundred and thirty…”

Viole was looking at the receipt.

“Is that what I spent on candles? Stop worrying about money. This is a one time thing. A candle lit dinner is only cool once. Want something sweet before we go?”

Viole threw away the receipt.

“I thought all the bakeries were closed.”

She tugged him forward.

“There’s one near the entrance. It’s an old lady. I think she’s shrewd. She’s definitely squeezing money out of everybody right now. We’re all leaving, because everything else is closed. That means the last stand standing makes all the money.”

Viole looked intrigued, and the Christmas Coconut Hut was still open. A withered old woman gave Viole five hot chocolate coconut cookies, and then the last tent fell. The muddy winter had ended the market by force. Some of the tents were sinking in the mud flats. The festival was a total failure. None of the local vendors had managed to make a penny, except the experienced old woman near the entrance.

Viole tossed his cookies onto the makeshift bed in the backseat. He had bought some burgers, and salads too. Those went in the fridge. They had enough good food to get them through another two days.

She joined him in the back.

The parking lot was depressingly empty. It was a fifth of the way full, and all of the disappointed guests were eager to leave. Viole parked near the bush, and then they had a private place to be. She plugged her phone into a charger brick, and it lit up the bed.

Viole was already eating his cookies.

She stole one, but she gave half of it back, because it was too sweet for her.

“Do you love me yet?”

She pinched his nose.

“Eat your cookie.”

He closed his mouth.

“I’ll save the rest for tomorrow. I don’t want to eat in here too much. Cleaning a van is way harder than cleaning your bedroom. We do not want to leave food in here.”

She kicked the sheets back, and wiggled under them. He joined her soon after. The power pack attached to the fridge was noisy, but bearable. He rolled her onto him, so she could enjoy his warmth.

“I liked that. It wasn’t too busy. Everything smelled good, and the view was amazing.”

Viole chuckled.

“It was really awkward when we heard the fish truck guy swearing about how much money he wasted…but yeah. I thought everything about Christmas was supposed to be busy. We didn’t have to wait in any long lineups, and it’s not too cold. We don’t have to worry about getting wet or drying off as much as I thought.”

Her head landed on his shoulder. Her curls were all over him, because she didn’t wear a ponytail to bed. His hair was a little longer too. She couldn’t not notice. The longer it was the more he looked like Arlene in her eyes. When she was half asleep it was like she was there. She didn’t let go of his hand, and the pungent scent of cinnamon served as a reminder.

I’m not with Arlene.

She’s dead, and that’s ok.

Her dreams didn’t come anymore. Sleeping was just lying still at this point. The lines on her chest were about to crawl up to her neck, but there was still so much left to do. So much that she wanted to do, specifically with the boy next to her.

“Viole, bring me the brochures.”

He took them out of the glove box, and she chose her dinner date setting.

“Churls Log Farm. Yes! They sell Christmas trees, and they have a big display one. I want to do it there. We can eat the leftover salad. The food doesn’t have to be fancy.”

Viole whipped out his phone.

“There’s a diner near the farm. We can buy some fresh food, and save the leftovers for the gas station microwave. I want to make your candle dinner special.”

She kissed his cheek.

Do I have to love him more than Arlene?

Can’t I love him a little bit?

Why isn’t that enough?

Why was the human race cursed with this kind of love? After I die I’ll probably, finally hate Arlene. I’ll realize that the pain wasn’t worth it, after it’s over. If I see her I’ll have a revaluation, and she’ll look like a regular middle aged woman to me.

She whimpered when Viole turned off his phone, which was the last source of life.

Her chest was convulsing.

I’m such a bad liar.

I can’t even lie to myself. If I really believed that I’d be cured. If I do get to see her in the end how could I possibly be angry?

It's what I’ve been dreaming about this whole time.

Viole patted her back until she was half-asleep, and then morning came. It slithered through the blinds on the windows to peel her crusty eyes open. Viole didn’t stir for another hour, and she stayed still the whole time. She couldn’t drive, and that meant he had to use more energy.

He needed his sleep.

“Rachel?”

She looked away from her phone.

“Did I wake you?”

He sat up.

“No. I was dreaming. Nevermind. Get in the passenger seat. Churls is another three hours away, but it’s kind of close to the observatory. Do you want to go there next?”

She crawled into her seat.

“Sounds good.”

The radio sounded tinny. The cottage country radio channels had bad reception. When they were halfway there the hosts started reciting ads for Churls. They passed by two dead dear, and a giant rock that was all red on the inside, like her.

The lone diner had a drive through. She could actually see the lights on the giant Christmas tree in the distance.

“What do you want?”

She tried to think of a fancy dinner food.

“Alfredo pasta.”

Viole had to awkwardly yell their order, because the speaker had been built back in nineteen eighty nine. He ordered salmon, and two ginger ales. A teenage girl gave them a greasy bag, and they completed the last ten minute leg of their journey. Churls Log Farm was sometimes a campsite. A public park and picnic benches were scattered about, near the border of the farm.

Someone had forgotten to turn off the display lights, even though it was mid-morning.

“Viole.”

“Yes?”

“I want to stay here and see what it looks like at night.”

“Me too.”

They ate their diner food. It was sub par. The free bread was the best part. After the most filling breakfast ever they napped the day away. The pathways around the edge of the log farm smelled heavenly. Winter wasn’t sharp enough to dull her nose, so the scent of pine was extraordinarily powerful. They skipped stones on a pond until they ran out of flat rocks to throw, and then the sun started to set. The glowing lights in the park trees began to come to life. She claimed a seat under the largest and most colorful tree. The centerpiece had been drenched in tinsel and bells, as well as lights. Light bounced on the decorations merrily. They weren’t completely alone. Children came and went with their parents, but the park was their private dining hall for most of the day.

She coughed, and looked at the setting sun.

“I’ll go get the salads.”

When Viole was gone she spat a long petal put of her mouth.

Her tongue tasted like iron.

A weighty thump slammed against the picnic table. Viole had also brought the candles, and the matches. She helped him light them all. Roses, vanilla bean, and fruity grape smells wafted up all at once.

She unsnapped her plastic salad bowl full of leftovers. The spinach had wilted, and she didn’t even have a real plate to use, but the allure of the candlelight got her. Her head landed in her hands, and she watched Viole eat.

When he noticed his plastic fork missed his mouth.

“Am I doing something wrong? Is there something on my face?”

She pinched herself. She didn’t let her eyes more away from him, but her cheeks stubbornly stayed blush free.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, ever. Who else would support this crazy plan? Without you I’d be behind my desk, wasting away. I don’t feel like I’ve wasted a day since you came back.”

He stopped eating.

“Then why didn’t you come back to me? Why did I have to do it?”

She frowned.

“You have to know.”

His voice shot up.

“I don’t! Tell me!”

The candle flames shook.

“Viole, you had a family. You still have lots of friends. I’m a poor scholarship kid. I didn’t think you’d want me around. H-hear me out. You were a super sweet innocent kid when I met you. I didn’t know…if you had changed. I didn’t want to take that chance. I’ve been told that I’m not good enough before. Most of my classmates think they’re “too good” to hang out with me. I was happy with you too. I didn’t want to ruin those memories by meeting you. I didn't want to see a snob instead of the boy I knew.”

Viole looked angry, for a second.

He had to stop himself, twice.

“You were wrong, Rachel. Money doesn’t make memories go away. Even if I did grow up and become and asshole I wouldn’t treat you like shit. You were too important to me. Even if I told you to go away I wouldn’t have looked down on you. That’s not me.”

Rachel groaned, and spoke through the pain in her chest.

“I didn’t know that. Get it through your head. We don’t have some kind of special connection. If we did you wouldn’t have weeds. Wait, are your roots because of someone else too?”

He looked up at her through his lashes.

“No, and quit jumping to conclusions. I'm here because I want to be, and you’re sick too. As if I could leave you alone.”

Rachel had to look up at the stars, because the accusations in his eyes were too much.

The candle flames were shivering.

She couldn’t say I love you.

It wouldn’t be sincere, and he deserved better than a lie.

“Thank you.”

Chapter 7: Ridge

The Nawlight Ridge Observatory and Science Center is committed to education through entertainment. Through you, our community, we get enough support to travel the stars by eye. Make your Winter Break wonderful with an amazing journey to the Science Centre. Pop into a science arcade, explore a space hall and wander through a holographic rainforest—all in a single visit! Buy your tickets today!

The brochure was saccharine and jovial. She flipped through all of it. The Christmas section was lackluster. Santa had to sit and let kids hit him until two in the afternoon. The telescope she really wanted to see wasn’t something the plebeian public could touch. She was disappointed about that, but just the thought of seeing a space-grade telescope made her grin.

“Viole, what day is it?”

He turned down the volume. The radio was mostly static at this point. They were driving up a steep hill next to a mountain ridge.

“December twenty first.”

She felt confused.

“Really?”

He chastened her.

“We spent three days in another hotel because it had a water slide. Christmas is really close. You were too busy throwing yourself down the slide to notice.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“I think it was worth it. The food was tastier there too, and we got a king bed. I’ve never slept in one of those before.”

His blush entertained her.

“Then I can’t argue. I don’t think this observatory is very popular. We’re in the middle of nowhere right now. I have to turn the radio off. There’s no signal.”

She took in the view.

“This looks like the kind of hill kids fall off of.”

Viole handled a sharp turn expertly, but there was sweat on his brow. His hands were always gripping the wheel ferociously. His green tea had gone cold an hour ago. They were closing in on the observatory. A cement dome was buried in the hills.

“Is there a star you want to see, Rachel? Like, a constellation?”

She lost sight of the observatory. They had to slide through another couple mile of iced road to get there.

“I can’t be satisfied with just one. The astronomers notes are on display there, and a professional shows off the telescope at three. That’s what I want to see. I really want to see countless stars. More than we thought existed in one lens. If I was better at math I’d be an astronaut.”

Viole tried to appeal to her hope.

“You can still do that.”

She fixed her ponytail.

“Nice try. That would have worked on me if I was ten, but look at where I am. I’m a dropout, and I dragged you down with me. Space school would never accept a bad influence like me. Thousands of good girls are fighting much harder to take my dream.”

He pried more.

“Is going to space your dream?”

She bit her lip.

“I’m not that cool. If I did make it in life I’d want to work in…an observatory. Like the one we’re going to. Sure, there’s kids everywhere. It’s a public place and you have to be welcoming to get funding, but there’s so much value in looking above us. It’s good to remember how small we are. Studying asteroids helps us understand our sky. Biologists like to say we’re all connected, but it’s more humbling to look at the opposite. Our planet becomes a lot more wonderful when you look at the millions of lifeless death rocks out there.”

The road was taking them in deeper into the woods. The top of the hill was flat. It was like they were back on the ground.

She saw a frosty sign with Santa’s bearded face on it.

Fireworks?

I want to see fireworks on top of a mountain.

All of the signs were bent. Strong gales had knocked them over. Winter was much stronger higher up. When the parking lot came into sight she looked around.

“It’s empty.”

The joint parking lot that led to the science center and observatory was devoid of cars. When the van roared to a halt Viole checked his phone.

“It’s closed until the twenty third. If I turn back now we can make it to the motel.”

She cringed.

“Viole, the motel we saw looked like a death trap. More than one prostitute has definitely died in there. This month. I would rather sleep in the van. We have a heated blanket, and I’m tired. I know you’re tired too. We’ve had enough fun. I’ll have enough energy to enjoy the fireworks if I sleep for a few days.”

Viole turned off the engine.

“Fireworks? Here? I really want to see that.”

She heartily agreed.

“I do too. Now let’s huddle for body warmth. We’re in deep winter now. Frostbite still comes, even if it’s a couple digits warmer this year. I don’t want to accidentally spend another thousand dollars either. We're staying.”

Viole unbuckled his seat belt.

“You’ve been sleeping more lately.”

She hummed.

“Good. I need to catch up on sleep.”

Viole went limp.

“Me too.”

She crawled into the backseat, into bed. She was about to go into hibernation mode. They had leftover breakfast buffet croissants, and cheese, to eat. The makeshift bed was soft, and Viole had splurged on a triple tall double thick heated blanket.

They were camping in style.

He pulled the blanket over her, and when it heated up her infested chest calmed down. The constant pain could be fed and distracted by heat. His body heat made her feel marginally better too. Her hoodie was zipped all the way up.

He didn’t need to know about the twisted root lines below her throat.

A snow squall came, and the trees protected them from it. The windshield frosted over, until it felt like they were trapped under a lake.

Viole winced.

He was lying down next to her, on a pillow.

“What’s wrong?”

He added another pillow.

“I have a headache. We’ve been wandering around in the cold too much.”

He buried his head under the heated blanket, and he went to sleep first. The creamy fabric hugged her, because he was too tired from constantly driving to do it. Her fingers twitched under the covers, and she counted.

How many days have we been gone? Ten, or eleven? During the summer I volunteered. I haven’t had eleven days off ever. Or even a week off.

I’m enjoying my adventure, but I don’t feel like I’m in love. It’s like I’m trying to squeeze everything I used to wish for into every day. I sleep in. I’ve got someone who listens to me. I eat expensive food and I hang out in overpriced hotels. I don’t have homework. I don’t think about money. If I wasn’t sick this would be paradise.

Her phone lit up.

She touched it. She fully intended to turn it off, but there was a message for her.

It was from Yura.

Merry Early Christmas Rachel! I’m going skiing in the Alps so my phone is going to crap out. I didn’t want to risk missing telling you a merry Christmas.

A voice recording was attached. She pressed it up to her ear, and she played it. About half of “Rudolph the Red nosed Reindeer” played. Yura was singing, and she had an impossibly clear voice. She had talent. Rachel gave in to a punishing kind of temptation. She stalked Yura on social media, while Viole slept. Her only friend from elementary school had learned how to play the flute. She was proficient in french. Most of her photos were solo glamour shots, but she was a member of several clubs. One of those clubs was the ski club. She looked right at home there, surrounded by tomboyish girls and broad boys. She wasn’t the only girl with blue hair. She fit in like a glove on a hand that was waiting for her. Yura also wanted to learn how to play the saxophone. Her lessons were going to start next month, after her snowy mountain vacation. Her ski gear was all soft teal, and she looked like she belonged in a commercial, not real life.

I’m signing off for a week to shred the slopes!

Bye.

This user is inactive.

Rachel turned off her phone, and she didn’t wake up until the middle of the next day.

.

“Rachel. Get up.”

He poked her stomach, and she was ticklish there, so she jerked like a fish on a line.

That made him laugh.

Her eyes opened.

“I’m up. It’s the observatory open yet?”

He checked his phone.

“It will be, in another four hours. This place is totally abandoned when they’re not open. If they had a security guard we would have been questioned by now.”

She felt guilty.

“I love space stuff. I could spend a whole week loitering here, but is there anything you want to do?”

Viole was curled up in a ball.

“I want you to teach me about telescopes.”

She squirmed under the heated blanket.

“Ok, but that’s also something I want to do. Have you…talked to your friends lately? If you message them through a video game or something they can’t track you. Aren’t you curious about what they’re doing for Christmas?”

He drank some water.

“We do the same thing every year. A steak dinner, and a gift exchange before we go spend time with our families. I don’t have one anymore, so Aguero was going to invite me to his Christmas. It’s a huge ballroom dancing type thing with catering, because his family is…complicated. An extra guest could totally slip in unnoticed. He has a hundred relatives that he actually has to meet during the holidays. I appreciated his concern, but I really didn’t want to go. I have other relatives too, but they don’t live in this country. We’re not close. The only thing I’m going to miss is that steak dinner.”

She didn’t mention Yura.

“We can do that next.”

He looked eager, which was her goal.

“It’ll be a long drive, but I want to go to Keegan’s. It’s pricey, but it’s worth it. Have you ever had gnocchi?”

She shook her head.

He looked satisfied.

“Good. It’s going to knock your socks off.”

She rolled over.

“Stop talking like an old man.”

When her eyelashes fluttered again the Observatory was open. There were other cars in the parking lot. She shook Viole until he was alert and alive. They used shower-in-a-bag wipes to clean up, and then it was time for another date.

She kissed him, but her roots didn’t let her go. They were parked in the very back of the lot, so they had to trot to the doors over an ice rink. The imposing cement building had been brightened up with posters and pictures of Santa. Toddlers that came up to her knee were waiting to sit in some guy’s lap. The tiniest kids were in costumes.

Viole almost stepped on a Christmas super hero cape.

“The fireworks start at eight. I thought we’d have to sneak around, but it looks like everyone will be camping in the parking lot today.”

She held his hand, and the line moved forward. A red banner was bragging about the fireworks show. It was a Nawlight local tradition. An hour long spectacle that could be seen from above and below. The sparks from the fireworks fell like snow, down the side of the mountain, into a lake. The only restaurant attached to the Science Center was serving pancakes.

Viole gave her a ticket. It was plain, and white.

Welcome to the Science Center. Our special hours are 10-10 from Dec 23-25. Our three fireworks shows all start at eight. Please do not overcrowd the parking lot. Do not block the exit or any lanes, or your vehicle will be towed.

The threat at the end ruined the Christmas magic, but she walked in with a skip in her step. The constellation charts the observatory owned were more official, and more detailed, than her drawings. Or any of the drawings she had seen on the internet. The lineup for pancakes was out the door, and it got even busier. The fireworks were the final act. Nobody wanted to lose their parking spot.

We're all camping today. The staff won’t notice if we hang around until Christmas is over.

I think that's exactly what I want to do.

Chapter 8: Rock

She kissed Viole’s cheek.

“This is the best date so far.”

He bravely led her through the thickest part of the crowd. An astronomer was messing with knobs on a telescope that could easily crush a car. The dome of glass around it made it look even more majestic. It was sealed off with red velvet rope.

Viole hailed the woman that was messing with it.

His voice boomed.

“Hey! You’re open late tonight, so can we look through the telescope!”

A pair of coke bottle glasses turned towards them. Rachel had never seen such thick lenses. The petite woman found them, and pointed at them.

“If you come back around nine thirty, sure.”

Rachel felt butterflies burst in her chest.

“Really?”

The astronomer made her daydreams come true.

“Really. Look behind you. Everybody else is here for that holographic forest, even though this is the most expensive piece of equipment in the center. If you really want to look, you can.”

She shook Viole’s arm wildly, but then it was time for the astronomer to take her breakfast break. She ducked behind a curtain like an actress on stage.

“I want to be her!”

Viole pulled her into the line for the computerized rainforest. It was noisy. Fake frog recordings were croaking on repeat. Screaming children made the lineup and the overall experience draining. They managed to get a table for lunch, and a “Star Soda” mixed with edible glitter and grape juice. Viole didn’t get bored, much to her delight. She indulged in the hobby she loved the most, and she shared it with him freely.

I thought this was too boring to share with Yura, but I don’t care today.

Viole finished his milkshake, and they ended up in a claustrophobic hallway with some moon rocks.

They were very small.

“Wow!”

Viole jogged after her.

“You’ve been saying “wow” for hours. What is it this time…wow.”

The rocks from space wowed him too. They leaned on the glass, even though they weren’t supposed to. She was too close too Viole. Her head bumped into his.

“Ow!”

His scream caught her off guard.

She reached out to him, but he stepped back.

There was blood on his forehead.

“Did…did I hit you that hard? I wasn’t paying attention. Sorry Viole. I’ll get out of the way, and you can look…”

He bowed away.

“I’m going to the bathroom. Be right back. I’m not mad.”

She watched him run away, in his bulky coat. She didn’t cry, but her concern for him almost made her forget about her chest pain. When he came back he looked like a zombie. The color in his skin had drained away.

“Viole? Did that overpriced sandwich give you food poisoning?”

Her answered too quickly.

“Yup. I just threw up. Now that’s over and I should be ok soon.”

She didn’t trust him, for some reason. His condition wasn’t as advanced as hers, but people with Hanahaki disease aren’t supposed to run around. Or drive.

“Slow down, Viole. These kids don’t understand how cool moon rocks are. There’s no one here. If you have a headache we can hide here.”

He sat on a bench next to the glass display, and he didn’t protest. She looked at his side profile. She really stared at him. She didn’t see Arlene. She saw a good person. Her eyes found what she didn’t want to see. Her own pain and loss had blinded her. His mop of hair was hiding it well. The harsh spotlights above the moon rocks revealed the truth.

There were black lines along the edge of his scalp.

Stay calm.

She didn’t scream or swear.

He has to get to a hospital. We’re an hour away from a cottage town, and three more away from the city. I can trick him into driving, maybe. I’ll say I’m bored of the Observatory tomorrow, or I can drive him away. I can’t keep dragging this out.

I still have my final card to play.

She coughed, but she suppressed the petals that were trying to push out.

“Viole.”

He turned to her slowly, with bleary eyes.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore. Living in a van sucks, and I’m not going to get better. You look like her. I thought I could use you. I thought I could pinch myself and trick my brain into loving you instead. I think you’re annoying. That’s the real reason why I stopped hanging out with you. I didn’t want to be in love with Arlene, because it was an impossible love, and you were boring. There was no reason to stick around. You noticed me again, because you saw me crying for her. I don’t feel that way about anyone else. I’ll take the bus home. I can’t stand being around you anymore. You’re like…the ugly version of her. You’re just not as good as her. I thought a replacement would work as a bandage, but you can’t even do that.”

She waited for him to cry. He seemed like a crier, not a screamer. Her voice was perfectly level. She sounded like the evil character at the end of every video game.

Viole didn’t get up.

She tasted her own blood.

“Did you already know!? Did you figure that out too?!”

Her echo bounced back.

He was leaning on her.

“I didn’t know, but I’m not surprised. Most of the people in my life see her when they look at me. My future is still being controlled by her. I have a job with the city. Did you know that? Just because she was the best mayor ever I get a union job anyone would kill for. Even though I don’t need. It. My mother introduced me to Aguero’s father, who introduced me to him. I made a normal friend on purpose. His name is Shibisu. He's a great guy, but his family has actually been employed by Aguero’s family for a couple of generations. I can’t escape her, Rachel. Of course you like her more than me. I am just her shadow.”

Her reflection in the glass was fuzzy.

“You’re not. I just told you you’re nothing like her! Give up. Reject that internship and blow her money on a trip around the world. She’s not around to stop you. Don’t you hate me yet?”

His arm wrapped around her waist.

“You said it wrong, Rachel. Maybe I could hate you, if you were more convincing, but you're too obvious. You're yelling at me because you care. You're so cruel. I hate her for stealing you before I could. I feel so…light. I felt like I wasn’t allowed to hate her. She was too flawless, but she stole my first love. I’m allowed to hate her now. It feels pretty good.”

He looked sleepy, but she had to come up with another strategy. She hooked her arm around him, and they toured the rest of the Science Center. Her real goal was the phone in his pocket.

He mentioned two names.

I have to text his friends, and tell them where he is. I’ve gone too far. I shouldn’t have taken him with me.

She forced him into the arcade. Space ships and aliens were flashing and racing in clunky retro boxes. The light show knocked him off balance, and the crowd was crushing him. Lines of kids were swirling like water around their feet. She bumped into him on purpose. Her hand reached in, and she got his phone. She stole it and she stood in line for a laser gun game.

“You wait outside!”

He touched his forehead before he fled from the chaotic kids zone. Then she had a time limit. She opened his phone. Thankfully he had left it unlocked. His message bar was maxed out at ninety nine. She found twelve names. Twelve friends that she had stolen him from. She scrolled through the avalanche of love and concern with no jealousy in her heart. Not one shred.

She had a goal.

I’m in the Nawlight Observatory.

Come get me.

Some of the older messages were too heavy for her to bear. One girl confessed her love to Viole, after ten unanswered messages.

Please come back.

We miss you.

I called the cops.

Every type of love was in there, except the one that could rip out the roots in his brain. She held the phone with both hands, and she hugged it. She prayed, even though she didn’t believe in God. Minutes later responses were flowing in, and the phone was buzzing.

You bastard!

Who are you?

Who is this?

You’re not Viole.

We’re coming.

She didn’t look at any of the names. She couldn’t. Her feet stumbled but she made it back to him. She muted the messages so he wouldn’t suspect her.

“You dropped your phone. Here.”

He took it from her.

He didn’t suspect her.

You should be in urgent care.

They shuffled to another cement section, with the crowd.

The variant that grows in the skull can be removed, at least partially. A really good surgeon can literally remove me from his brain. He’s got a chance. His friends, and the cops, will force him to take it when they see the shape he’s in.

He's in bad condition.

I didn’t notice, because I feel tired too.

The sky was starting to turn grey. They ran out of places to go. She ran out of things to say.

He pulled her head down.

It was her turn to rest on his shoulder. The bench he had found came with a great view. A deadly one. A rickety fence was blocking off the sheer cliff. They were sitting outside, in the bracing cold, and snow started to blow in. She didn’t want him to get suspicious, so she just held him. Snow began to blow. Fat flakes of it settled in his hair. He had forgotten his hat. Her ribbon was tangled in his ponytail. It was waving in the wind. The flurries brought bitingly cold wind, but they waited for the fireworks. Most of the children were crowded around an overhang, hiding from the snow with their parents.

“Rachel.”

He nudged her to keep her awake.

“Yes?”

Ice was forming on his collar.

“I love you more than I did before.”

Her throat felt raw.

“I don’t know why you do.”

Her hoodie was soaked.

“That’s ok. I don’t want my feelings to be some sort of burden, for anyone. Especially not you. I thought you would like to be loved, when I met you. I wanted to give that to you. You didn’t want it from me, but the heart goes where it wills. If I could hold onto this feeling without getting sick I wouldn’t have any regrets. I don’t think yearning is the big, bad, awful thing our teachers say it is. You should be allowed to care about someone, even if they don’t feel the same away. Types of love shouldn’t have to fit together like puzzle pieces. That’s too boring. Don’t you think so too?”

She sighed shakily.

“I do. I don’t want to let go. I want to live true to myself, and what I feel. If only I didn’t get punished for it. I don’t want to be perfectly happy, Viole. I don’t think that’s what growing up should be.”

The stars didn’t come. The falling snow mingled with hail and the night sky failed to reach through. The fireworks weren’t going to come either. The show had been cancelled. Cars were stuck in piles of hard ice pellets and frozen muck. Viole’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

Someone was calling him.

Is he crying?

I don’t think I said anything particularly profound.

She wanted to tell him to stop being a baby, but she couldn't speak. 

Her voice was gone.

A dark line raced down the side of Viole’s face. She coughed, and her blood froze in her mouth. The snow was blurring her vision. The same employee from before was telling everyone to come back inside.

I'm tired.

They were just out of sight, behind a lump of rock. The fence near the cliff was shaking, cracking, and falling away. The chains holding it down snapped, and she didn’t hear the metal hit the ground. The void swallowed it, and her boots froze in the slush.

.

.

.

The snow piled up.