Is This How We Turn Out?

Link to article: Is This How We Turn Out?.

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Nothing will break them apart. She will live her life on her own terms, and not even Cupid himself will take that away from her.
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It had only been [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/turning-out a year] since Sylvie met her beloved friend, and yet so many things have changed.

For one thing, Sylvie was now swamped with research work. She had to chemically synthesize multiple anomalous compounds that came by her desk each day, each with exciting new reactions to try. She examined different extradimensional objects that came down from the Ectodimensional Studies section from across the site; sometimes they were eldritch monstrosities with at least ten thousand tentacles, other times they were hard to look at without getting a migraine. Sylvie could even take on research projects of her own now, without the supervision of senior researchers that took her under their wing.

It felt like yesterday that Sylvie was first introduced to Site-35, with its plaster walls covered with lovely little drawings made by the children who were kept there. She could still remember first meeting Caoimhe and her warm hazel eyes and auburn hair.

//How has time gone by so fast?//

It was all so overwhelming. Had she spent enough time with her friend, so that it all truly mattered? Had she done enough? The future had become so much more uncertain as each day passed.

Sylvie had gotten exactly what she wanted. It was everything that she ever desired and more. But there was still that little hole in her heart, a hole that could never be filled. What was she missing?

Sylvie sighed in exasperation, and opened the door to her dorm room.

Inside were various posters of 70s rock musicians and bands plastered all over the walls, from Jimi Hendrix to Black Sabbath and Deep Purple, each poster giving off a psychedelic feel. There were old vinyl discs stuck into one corner of the room. Her bed, with a cushioned headboard and covered in bold red and green patterns, sat in the other corner. Caoimhe was already there, sitting on the edge of the bed and scrolling through her phone.

She looked up as Sylvie closed the door. “Hiya, Sylvie!” She waved at her enthusiastically.

Sylvie gave a little wave and a slight smile back. “Hey.”

“How’ve you been? I feel like a walking corpse with the amount of shite on my plate lately.”

Sylvie shrugged. “It’s been going. All those research projects, you know.”

“I can tell with the bags under your eyes.” Caoimhe pulled out a deck of UNO cards, and patted the spot next to her. “Wanna play?”

Sylvie’s smile grew even wider. “You bet.”

Playing UNO was a great pastime for Sylvie and Caoimhe. It was a necessary distraction from the outside world and whatever Sylvie had going on at any given moment, especially for the backstabbing, deceit, and other trickery that culminated in trying to strangle your friends. It was a classic game for having fun and feeling absolutely miserable at the same time, right up there with Monopoly.

Caoimhe shuffled the cards, and dealt seven for each person. Then the game began.

Cards were stacked, swapped, and thrown across the room. What started as a quick round became a flurry of emotions, the tension in the room sizzling into a boiling pot with a mixture of laughter and loathing disdain. These exhilarating yet frustrating competitive challenges, they became shared experiences that created lasting memories between the two friends that Sylvie will always cherish for as long as she lives.

It was Sylvie’s turn now. She looked at her cards, saw a +2, and knew what she had to do. She placed the card down onto the pile, and didn’t say a word.

Caoimhe stared at it, nodded her head, and placed another +2 on top of it.

“…Really?” Sylvie frowned.

Caoimhe grinned. It was always that damn smile. “Yep.”

“I thought I said no stacking.”

“I thought you said we were free to pull, and I quote, ‘any bullshit to trip the other person up.’ Does that count?” Her grin grew even wider.

Sylvie couldn’t help but concede. “I guess so. Anyway,” as she pulled her cards from the deck, “oh look at //that//.”

She placed down a wild draw four card. “Blue. Now we’re even.”

Caoimhe laughed with a gentle, melodic tone like a songbird’s call on a sunny day. It was music to Sylvie’s ears. “You’re fun, you know that?”

Sylvie smiled back. “So are you.”

They kept playing, raging, and bonding. There was nothing that Sylvie could ask for other than this. She had it all, and she would do anything to keep it.

But that hole was still there. It was spreading, expanding to the point that it covered her whole chest. What was she missing? This was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

Other people didn’t have this feeling, right? But Sylvie wasn’t like them. Their trajectory was simple, obtaining all the ingredients for the recipe of living a happy life with the people they love. But as Sylvie couldn’t feel that way for her friend, or for anybody really, it wouldn’t be the same.

How could she try to navigate this path her own way? There were so many unknown variables, so many hidden obstacles that were waiting for her to bump into. It shouldn’t have to be this hard. Living a happy life with someone that she cared about should be simple, and quiet. Mundane, and carefree.

Those impulsive thoughts that couldn’t be kept down, they slowly crept into her mind, and kept coming, getting faster and faster, overwhelming her as the surroundings around her began to blur and become unfocused.

//I can’t lose her, I can’t lose her, I can’t—//

Look at the cards. She had to look at the cards. Staring at their bright colors, the only distinctive spot in the blurred room around her. Sylvie focused on those colors, painting her mind into a bright and vivid canvas.

Now as the painter in her thoughts, she drew a sunny summer day, the two of them in a field full of sunflowers, with clear skies without a cloud in sight. They held each other’s hands, strolling down this field, feeling the wind in their hair. Sylvie picked a sunflower and pulled it out, showing it to Caoimhe, who accepted it gracefully. She loved it. And they were both happy together.

She went back to the colors, back to the game again, and the internal tension inside her simmered down. Caoimhe was waiting on her.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about which card I should put down,” Sylvie said.

“That’s okay! Let’s keep going, shall we?” Caoimhe grinned.

They went back-and-forth, never missing a beat. An electric energy in the room that would not slow down. Sylvie could see her friend, giddily placing another card down to change the tides of the game. She was so happy. That pure, unbridled joy, it was the light that always brightened Sylvie’s day. Those little moments, those small everyday details, they were what made Caoimhe so special to her.

And there was no telling what would happen if she had to let it all go.

----

The water splashed all over the floor, as a mop was forcibly inserted into a yellow bucket. A janitor’s bucket, the kind with wheels that one could drag around. As the mop was lifted up, two burly hands began to wring it out, squeezing the excess water as it dribbled back down into the bucket. The work wouldn’t be exciting, or interesting in the slightest, but it had to be done nevertheless.

[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/i-only-loved-the-idea-of-you Cliff] sighed, as he continued to do what he always did. Here he was, going through the same motions, doing the same tasks, all the same.

All of these daily tasks compiled in the same script that inevitably melted together into one indistinguishable mess of a life.

The dull tick, tick, ticking of the clock that pounded his skull, the grey-toned tables that meshed into one, the piercing white lights from above, no variety to it all, it made the environment even more monotonous than it already was. He got used to it after a while, but he couldn’t do this forever. Could he?

What else could he do? With every bridge that he burned, every opportunity slipping from his fingers like sand, it became too easy to fall back into these routines.

He dunked his mop into the bucket, harder this time.

Cliff kept sweeping, back and forth and back and forth. Patterns that repeated over and over again, lines of splattered liquid that crossed into each other. Every once in a while, he looked around the room for anything memorable, any minute changes that could make his day a little more interesting. But, as always, there was nothing. Only chatter between faceless researchers.

He plunged the mop again. A few droplets of water splashed on his shoes this time. How fun.

As the clock kept ticking and time kept turning, Cliff once again dragged himself back into the inner depths of his thoughts and his regrets.

He imagined the different paths that he could’ve taken, the things he could’ve done to carve a better future. If only he made the right choices, and stopped basing his desires on his idealized fantasies. If only he tried to reach out to the people that he cared for, and wasn’t so naive.

//If only I knew how to love someone.//

But that didn’t matter anymore. There wouldn’t be any future for him regardless. This was it.

As Cliff reached the upper left corner of the cafeteria, he looked up one final time, to see two familiar faces scamper in from the hallway. The blonde one was stammering, and looked embarrassed, while the other one had her hands on her knees, laughing to her heart’s content.

It reminded Cliff of what could’ve been. It always did.

“Christ, I look like my old neighbor with how much I’m prying,” he mumbled to himself.

Should he go up to them? Say something? At least he had people to talk to, right? But he was already doing too much by staring at them. The conversation would be awkward, and short-lived, and he would go back to playing his part once again.

But it would be something. Time would move with or without him either way, so what’s the harm in trying something new?

Cliff began to saunter his way over to the two researchers, making sure to be discreet and inconspicuous. He went over to the far end of the furthest table, and started to sweep around the area with his mop.

Eventually, the researcher with the braided auburn hair spotted him and turned to the blonde one, who looked back and nodded.

The blonde researcher gave a little wave, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Hi again.”

“Afternoon,” Cliff greeted. “Don’t think I’ve ever introduced myself. I’m Cliff.”

“Sylvie.” She swayed slightly from side-to-side while standing.

“Nice to meet you, Sylvie. And you are?”

The other researcher reached out to eagerly shake hands. “I’m Caoimhe. I’m Sylvie’s friend. Nice to see ya again!”

Cliff nodded. “Yeah, it is.”

“Do you need anything else?” Sylvie asked.

He could tell she did not want to be there. That was something he could relate to. “No, I’m only here to say hi. It’s not often that anyone else does the same for me.”

Caoimhe nodded. “We’ll let you know if we spot anyone littering or if there’s any trash around. I respect the work you do, and I think more people should respect you back.”

He smirked. “Appreciate it. See you around.”

He gave another wave, and they both waved back. He could see Sylvie hiding behind Caoimhe as he left to continue his work.

Although those two were a painful reminder of the life he should have lived, Cliff was happy for them nonetheless. It was nice to know that there were people out there who didn’t have to second guess themselves, who didn’t have to lose everything because they could never figure out why everything didn’t match, why these aspects of life weren’t the same as what was presented and expected by those around them.

But in the end, it didn’t really matter for Cliff, did it? He made his choices. So he grabbed his mop and his bucket, and carried on.

----

Sylvie sat in the office of the head of Psychology & Parapsychology, the familiar mahogany desk and black-painted walls giving her a sense of comfort. She’d been taking appointments a lot recently, which for anyone else would be concerning but it wasn’t really that bad for her. It was nice to air out her feelings in private, without having to reveal them to the people that she cared about the most. This room was a safe space, a place where she didn't have to hide.

Across from Sylvie was a man in his early 30s, with dark-rimmed glasses and a distinctive Shire mullet. He was typing on his computer, most likely editing some documentation for another of his clients on the paranatural side. Sylvie could see that he still wore the black ring on his right middle finger and the white ring on his left, as he always did.

He, of course, was Michael Prescott, the head of P&P and her therapist. And if someone were to tell Sylvie that he was also everyone else’s therapist at the site, she would believe them. It was astonishing to learn how many clients he worked with each day.

He took a sip from the black mug on the corner of his desk, and placed it back down. “So, how has everything been going for you?”

Sylvie shrugged. “Alright, I guess.”

He stopped typing, and turned to look at her. “I know things have been… difficult for you in the past few days, but I’m here to help no matter what it is.”

“Yeah, yeah I know, but,” and she turned away from him, “it’s all so //frustrating//. I thought I had it all figured out. But it’s like I’m back at square one all over again.”

Michael seemed to ponder for a moment, before clasping his hands together. “We’ve navigated this before. I don’t believe that your situation will change for the worse. And even if it does, I’m still here if you need to talk.”

Sylvie began to fiddle with her thumbs. “There’s always that chance that something horrible is going to happen. And I hate that I can’t shake that feeling off. Everyone else doesn’t have to deal with what I have. They only have to worry about what their future will be like as a couple. Childcare, familial issues, what the wedding is going to be like, all that. We both know I’ll never have that. I don’t know how to spend time with her. She’s still the romantic, while I’m the complete opposite.”

She could feel her heart pounding. “What if she somehow finds someone else? Someone better than me in every single aspect? How would I handle that? How would you handle that? Tell me. Go on.”

No response seemed to come from the other end. The air felt heavy and stale, forcing down a pressure on them both, time standing still, a cold chill crawling up her spine. And Michael only stared. She knew why, of course, that was merely the way he had to process some things, but with the way things looked now it felt as if the weight of her words was going to crush her into a pile of slurry.

Michael looked down at his rings, then looked back up at Sylvie. “I know how you feel. You’re in the background. And then they get into those certain topics, and you feel like you’re being shut out.”

She felt sick. “Yeah. Like I’m a shadow on the wall.”

“It’s a hard thing to accept, knowing that you’ll never be what they expect you to be. But I’m here to help. I always am.”

“What if she leaves me behind?” She could barely get out every word.

“She wouldn’t. Because I know her, and I know you. Can’t you see how much she cares about you?”

“That’s the problem! I see it. But I don’t know if I’m giving the same to her.”

“Are you comfortable elaborating on that, for me?” Michael inquired.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I am.” She tried to look as calm as possible. “I think this is something that she and I should work out between each other. It’s not like we’re falling apart.”

Sylvie began to stand up, but Michael placed a hand on her shoulder. “We can still talk about it, if you want to. I’m here to talk.”

She nodded. “I know. I’ll make sure to email you when I need you again.”

Sylvie pushed her chair in, and left the room at a brisk pace, not looking back. This shouldn’t be a repeat of last time. It didn’t have to be. She could handle it herself.

----

The familiar scent of roasted carrots filled the whole kitchen, only undercut by the aroma of cooked chicken sprinkled with paprika and black pepper.

This was Cliff’s father’s recipe, and it was the only thing that he remembered fondly about the old times. Back before he had to cut himself off from everyone around him. Before his family found out that he ‘did it’ with the boy next door. Before his father never saw him the same way again.

Even now, when he was free to feel like himself again, those same thoughts of his complete and total seclusion kept flooding back to him.

All he needed was an impression of closeness with other people. But not in the way that most people would think of it. He had no desire for that. Sometimes he went days staying inside his home without any interaction with other people, only to come crawling back to the site for work and for the break room to talk with his coworkers. There were days that he desired for connection, and days that he didn’t.

It was hard to describe. It was harder to describe it to someone else. How does one describe a fundamental difference that only a rare amount of people could understand?

Cliff sighed, and went back to the skillet. He let his food simmer, watching it turn to a crisp golden brown. He flipped the chicken, sprinkled in a tinge of thyme, and reduced the heat to medium-low. Once the chicken was cooked thoroughly for another two to three minutes, he made sure to scrape up all the darker bits.

He turned the heat off, and backed up to see his work. There it was, in all of its homemade glory.

He grabbed a plate, carefully removed the chicken and the carrots from the skillet, and served himself, as he always had. He sat down, and stared at the chair across the table on the other side, where someone once sat. Someone who was no longer there. The only person who understood him. The only person who was there for him when no else was.
He imagined him sitting there, slurping Ramen noodles, his favorite food. Cliff perfectly recalled every detail from all those years ago, from his dirty blonde hair to that perfect smile that always brightened up his day. There he was, so full of life, full of pure, unbridled energy that couldn’t be suppressed.

Cliff remembered this day. It was one of their last days together, the last good moment that he had with him, before he had to leave everything he loved behind for a second time.

He remembered it like it was yesterday.

“Yo, Noah, check this out,” his past self pushed the newspaper closer to him.

Noah looked it over, before grabbing it and showing it back to him. On the page was an advertisement for wedding rings. “Changed your mind, huh?”

“Nah, I just thought they looked nice.” He grinned.

Noah shook his head. “You’re the one who didn’t want it.”

“Having a lawn with a white picket fence or a dog or vacations to Venice would be nice, but not as nice as being with you.”

“Oh, stop it! You’re going to make me blush.”

“You’re too easy to fluster,” Cliff said.

“One of these days, I’ll get you to crack. One day,” Noah wiggled a finger at him in jest.

But that never happened. In fact, he never felt it at all.

They ate in silence. Eventually, Cliff gathered up the courage to say something that he always kept to himself.

“…Can I ask you something?”

Noah gulped down his food. “Sure, yeah.”

“Have you ever felt… nothing when I teased you before? Nothing at all?”

“No, why?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m just thinking about something. You know, hypothetically. Would it be weird if someone didn’t have that spark? No feelings for anyone at all?” Cliff posed the question that he wrestled with for the longest time.

Noah simply sat there. “I mean, I guess? I don’t know what that would be like. It sounds depressing, I can’t imagine how lonely I would feel if I didn’t have you, or anyone really.”

“Yeah, that would suck.” Cliff tried his hardest to keep the pit in his stomach from growing any wider.

Those recollections, a roaring river of regret, cascaded through his mind to this day. It had been years since. Noah had probably forgotten about it all by now, and moved on with someone else. And yet here he was, still reminiscing on what could’ve been.

He pulled out his phone, and went on Grindr for the third time today. Why he kept trying to match with other men when he knew that it wouldn't work out to begin with was something that couldn’t be answered easily. Maybe it was for the thrill of it, for one more one-night stand. One more short moment after another to feel the warmth that he once felt. And then when the sun came and the morning birds made their call, he fell right back to the hole that he dug for himself.

Was he that much of a creep? Was he that much of a slut?

Cliff didn’t choose Noah as much as he did for him. He was the one who asked first, he was the one who always worried about him, who was there to be his guiding light in the everlasting dark. But Cliff didn’t give the same. He never gave enough. He had to leave, because he made Noah’s life harder than it had to be. And his presence in it wasn’t enough to make up for it.

That was the whole point of a partnership, right? To carry the burden together. But it would never be enough. Not with any part of him.

Cliff blinked and looked around the room, now realizing that he was lost in his thoughts yet again. Grabbing his fork, he took a bite of the chicken. It was getting cold. Reducing the amount of leftovers in the fridge would be a good idea from now on. He shoved his phone back into his pocket, and returned to chowing down on the dinner that he made, without anyone else to share it with. He tried to not think about it this time.

----

Sylvie sat in a desk chair in her friend’s dorm, waiting for her to return from a meeting. Looking around the hodgepodge of various assorted items scattered around the desk, she focused on a bobblehead in the back right corner. Its dark, lifeless beady eyes seemed to stare into her soul. She felt like it was judging her.

Caoimhe had an important project that could lead to her getting a lot of recognition, and with that came new people that she could meet, more important things to pay attention to, and less time that they could spend together. If that project got approved, what would happen then?

So many things were changing around her, and yet everything felt the same. Sylvie was stuck, anchored in the same place and unable to move forward.

Was she worrying over nothing? Nothing about their friendship seemed to change throughout the year since they met. At least, not outwardly.

She wondered what Caoimhe was thinking. They both knew how worried she’d get sometimes. Some days it felt like her brain was testing her body chemistry and cranking it up to overdrive, heating her up in an inner oven of her own making. And every time all this catastrophizing turned out to be nothing.

Just like this one. At least, she hoped it would be.

But what if it was legitimate, this time? It became obvious that Sylvie’s constant fretting made the scales tip over to one side, as Caoimhe now had to console her and take care of her more often. One side gave too much, and the other gave nothing at all.

The most important part of their friendship to her was the small joys. Walking down the park together, hand in hand, feeling the warm breeze and seeing the flowers bloom. Playing UNO together, watching each other scream in frustration. Getting close to one another while watching a movie.

Their friendship wasn’t like most, but it was //theirs//.

But as Sylvie appreciated the good things, she scrutinized the other side as well; all her imperfections. The way she clung to Caoimhe like a seahorse barely hanging onto a piece of coral, orbiting around her each day to stave off her feelings of desolation. Every moment that she tried her damndest to not make a mistake in front of her, or at least to make sure that she would never know about them. Managing all her problems herself and then being unable to admit that she needed help until much later.

She could see every crack starting to form, ones that could collapse the entire foundation if left unchecked. Sylvie once tried to confess a bit of it to her friend, but they both shrugged it off and went on with their days. Maybe it was nothing after all, like everything else she was obsessed over.

But it could turn out into something. It could slip by her unnoticed, and eventually cause something worse to happen in the future. And it would be her fault. And her friend would leave her for good, and she would have nothing left, and—

The door to the room opened, snapping her out of her inner turmoil. She turned to see her friend leap into her arms, squealing in delight.

“Did you get it?” Sylvie eagerly asked.

“Yes! They approved my project. I got it!”

Caoimhe tackled her onto the bed, cheering in excitement. They embraced each other, laughing all the way.

But it got approved. Sylvie knew what would happen next. She would fall further and further behind, as her lack of commitment dragged her into the depths.

This wasn’t envy, was it? No, it wasn’t. She was so proud of her friend for finally getting this accomplishment, the goal that she’d been trying to reach for a year. This was supposed to be a moment of celebration for the both of them, a highlight of Caoimhe’s career at the Foundation and something that they would both look back on fondly for years to come.

She should be happy for her. Shouldn’t she?

Her facade was slowly breaking down. But she didn’t want to worry her friend, like all the other how many thousand times. Her experiences were so far removed from everyone else’s that it would be impossible to describe to the average layman, but she couldn’t help but compare them anyway.

Even with how she defined it, she couldn’t love right. A half-love was no love at all.

Would she be left behind, in a world that would forsake her completely if it had the chance?

//Focus. You need to focus.//

And so she did. She focused on her friend’s warm embrace, lifting all the weight that held her down. She made sure to stay there, and hold onto it for as long as she could. To hold onto the only thing that mattered to her. The only person who understood her, the only person who could calm her down, the only person who would be with her when she fell apart. The light of her life, the gift that kept on giving.

----

“You got any bright ideas, this time?”

Cliff was leaning back on the reclining chair in his therapist’s office, crossing his arms and staring expectantly at the man across from him.

His therapist, Dr. Michael Prescott, sighed. “Have you tried anything I recommended to you yet?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“Let’s get started, then.”

Cliff stood up, while Michael clasped his hands together.

“So, how have you been feeling lately?”

He shrugged. “Same as usual. I get nothing accomplished, I scroll through dating apps to pass the time, and I keep thinking about things that you tell me I shouldn’t be thinking about. Nothing much, really.”

Michael paused to consider something. “Are you comfortable with diving deeper into this today? I know you can be a bit… reluctant to the idea.”

“Not right now. But maybe we can ask your pal over there. What does Aragorn think?” Cliff pointed to the poster of Viggo Mortenson on the back wall.

“Aragorn would have faith in your strength and encourage you to face these challenges head on, but would respect your decisions regardless of what you choose.”

Cliff rolled his eyes. “You really are a nerd for Tolkien.”

“I did tell you about my collection of his works.” Michael pulled out his clipboard and pen. “I think we should try to discuss it this time. If you keep shutting these feelings out, it won’t make you feel better. Trust me.”

He stared at Michael, unblinking, considering when the right opportunity was to make a break for it out of the room, before crossing his arms. “Fine.”

“Thank you. I’m not going to push you any further, because I know how difficult this can be, but I am here to help you navigate this. Take your time.”

Cliff never thought about looking into it, because why would he? It was the source to all his problems, one that he couldn’t get out of his head. The final nail in the coffin that tore him from the last good thing that he ever had.

That can of worms was something that should be left alone. But if he wanted to make progress, he had to open it. He had to find answers.

Cliff stood upright, wondering what he should even say, before giving his response. “None of it ever made sense to me. Going in, we knew we weren’t going to live like everyone else. But that didn’t matter, ‘cause it was ours. It was how we defined it. And yet, I never felt like I got what I wanted. What I imagined. It was like we were going through the motions, with a checklist, and not really living together. Like I couldn’t even put in the effort.”

Michael nodded. “You think you didn’t put in enough commitment.”

“I was in over my head. There were so many things that I wanted to do with him. A fireside by the beach, touring around the world, going camping. I dreamed of this larger than life experience where I could be free, and be happy. Be with him. But I never felt that way. I wanted to be close, but that ‘close’ never showed up.”

“It wasn’t like how it was presented to you.”

Cliff paused. “What I was presented with wasn’t how I was to begin with anyway. So I pushed it off. I didn't think it was that big of an issue.”

“Until it was too late.”

“Yep.” He shook his head in exasperation. “At least I know that there are people out there who can live that life. I’m grateful for that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you not see those two researchers running around and fawning over each other all the time? The blonde one and the other chick. I wish I had that much energy.”

Cliff looked back at him, to see Michael looking down at his clipboard, and then back at him, seemingly analyzing something.

It went on like that for a while before he snapped his fingers. “You good?”

“I am.” Some kind of recognition shimmered in Michael’s eyes. “I may have an idea.”

“An idea for what?”

“For how we’re going to solve this.”

----

Sylvie tightened her grip on her tray as she made her way through the bustling, cacophonous mess that was the site’s cafeteria. As she waded through the sea of indistinct faces and voices, she saw it. Two women sitting next to each other, their budding affection for each other clearly seen, one of them tucking the other’s hair behind her ear, and she could see how they looked at each other. That impossible-to-pin-down feeling, one which Sylvie could never understand, it loomed over her like a specter, always haunting her wherever she went. There was no place where she wouldn’t see it, no place where she was safe from it.

And then she saw them kiss.

That unmistakable dread that she always felt came back in full force. It was pushed so far down inside that she nearly forgot that it was there, but there it was.

Once the realization that this aspect of her life was fundamentally different from most people truly set in, she began to see it in //every single thing//. And once it took root it became impossible to shake off. There were some days where she could live as she wanted to, doing everything together with her friend. But on other days, when a conversation turned unfamiliar and uncomfortable, or when she had the alone time to think about it, that was when it struck.

The dread was always present in her, even if diminished, but on those days when there was nothing else to do, Sylvie dove deeper into the lack of mainstream representation, or how her identity was dismissed entirely, or how most people would never relate to her, or that she could never truly run away from the fact that she will never be able to fit in anywhere. Not even in spaces that would be more likely to accept her.

Because she //had// to prosper in an exclusive relationship, while other types were secondary. She //had// to marry someone else. She //had// to be a part of that experience, to fulfill and enrich her life. To become complete.

All these implications, all these small exclusions that formed together into a single mass, they dragged her down into the lowest depths and kept her there, muddling the way she saw the world and her ability to connect with those around her. There had been times where it practically paralyzed her, as she sobbed into her pillow with no one to hear her or tell her that she wasn’t alone.

It was too much to bear. But she had to keep living no matter what. Right?

If the world didn’t want her, then that was fine. It was tempting to crawl into her room forever, all alone, with nothing that could trigger the pain, nothing that could hurt her, nothing—

“Over here!”

Oh, that’s right. She needed to sit down.

Sylvie snapped back to reality, and went over to where she usually sat. Caoimhe was already waving at her to sit down next to her, and Michael sat across from them eating a bologna sandwich.

“Where’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

//Time for another excuse.// “You know, the usual. I get a stack of reports I have to do, I have to synthesize this, test the reaction of that, it all blurs together in my head. Haven’t had the time to do anything else.”

“I get ya.” Caoimhe puts a hand on her shoulder. “You know what day is coming up?”

“What day?” Sylvie raised an eyebrow.

“Our first anniversary of when we became friends!”

Oh //shit.//

That had completely slipped out of Sylvie’s mind. Caoimhe had wanted to do a little celebration, not like how other people did it but to cherish the time that they had spent together as the best of friends.

And she forgot about it.

Sylvie tried to look as unbothered as possible. “Oh, that’s right! I was so busy with work that it blanked out from up here.” She tapped the side of her skull. “What do you have planned for that?”

“Well… I was thinking of a picnic, or maybe we can go bowling, I know you like bowling, or we can watch a movie. Oh, wait! I know, we can do this—” Caoihme blabbered on and on about many different options, which gave Sylvie more time to think.

She didn’t want to disappoint her. She especially did not want to ruin their special day. Not with another obsession that made her spiral down the mental drain.

But what other options were there? Therapy with Michael wasn’t making any progress, and she didn’t have anyone else to talk to about it. Sylvie could feel the pressure bubbling up in her stomach, and it wouldn’t be long before it tore her apart.

She looked up, and locked eyes with Michael. He gave her a knowing nod. It seemed that he had something on his mind.

“—or we can stay inside the dorm and play UNO all night. Whatever you want.”

Sylvie nodded. “I’d love that.” It would be much better if she fell apart at the site than somewhere else unfamiliar to her. Besides, they had plenty of medical staff.

“Great! It’ll be grand, I just know it,” Caoimhe beamed, her warm smile and her autumn eyes grounding Sylvie to reality as it always had.

“We can figure out other things to do from there.”

“Fine by me! I’m going to get my refill.” She stood up, and grabbed her cup from the table, walking towards the soda dispenser.

Michael turned to look at Sylvie. “I see you’ve been handling this well.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just don’t know what to do.” Sylvie sighed.

He took a bite of his sandwich, before responding. “I think I found something to help you out.”

“What is it?” Sylvie inquired.

“I’ve found someone else with a similar situation to yours. I was thinking that we could do a session with him, and work out both of these issues together.”

“Wait, wait, hang on,” Sylvie waved her hands around in a perplexed motion, “I’m doing this with a complete stranger?”

“Correct,” Michael affirmed to her.

“I- I don’t know about that, what if it doesn't go well? What if I’m too awkward, or I mess something up? I haven’t done this before, it’s only been me and you.”

“Sylvie,” Michael said slowly, “you’ll be fine. I promise you, I’ll have everything under control. Bringing in other perspectives might help you clarify things about yourself, so we can move one step closer to your goal.”

“Okay, okay.” She took a deep breath. “Okay. Are you 100% sure it’ll be fine?”

“I am.”

“Alright.” Sylvie nodded. “I trust you. As long as this can finally be over.”

“That feeling will never go away, Sylvie. But we can work together to manage it.”

The sound of someone quickly seating themselves was heard on Sylvie’s left. She turned to see Caoimhe sipping from her cup.

“Ugh, I can’t believe they ran out of ice. Unbelievable! They never run out of ice.”

Sylvie raised an eyebrow. “Can’t you just ask them for more ice?”

“I will, yeah.” There it was. That Irish sarcasm coming through.

“Perhaps you can bring your own ice next time?” Michael retorted.

“Oh, piss off!” She then laughed, and so did Sylvie in turn. Their laughter was contagious for each other. Once one started, neither could stop.

That was the highlight of Sylvie’s day, what she always looked forward to when she woke up in the morning. The memories she could make, the time well spent, everything falling into place without any imperfections. But it would crash down like a house of cards soon enough. The imperfections were very much visible, she could see them all and there was nothing she could do.

Everyone else could find something worth it in their life. Not her. Not in this deep dark pit that she found herself in, with no way out, enveloping her whole. No one there but herself, all alone.

----

The low, droning hum of the air conditioning in Michael’s office was the only thing preventing Cliff from dozing off into a thirty minute nap. Keeping himself alert was becoming increasingly more difficult as the session went on.

“And that’s what we’ll be doing today. I’m bringing in another client of mine, and as a group we can unpack both of your current dilemmas together, and help each other through that process. Would you be comfortable with that?” Michael asked him.

He looked back from staring at the wall behind him. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you just said is fine by me.”

“You weren’t listening, were you?”

“Hey, as long as I don’t have to say anything, I’m fine with whatever you send at me. Go right ahead.”

“Alright, then.” Michael leaned to his right, looking at the door to the office. “You can come in, now!”

The door cracked open, revealing a woman with long, blonde hair peeking into the room.

Cliff turned his head to look beyond the chair, before looking back at Michael with a slight furrow between his brows.

“Why’d you bring her here?”

“She’s what I was trying to explain to you earlier. Both of your concerns revolve around the same thing, so I figured that I could try something unique for today’s session.”

“I barely know her, Michael,” Cliff whispered. “You can’t just throw two strangers in a room together and act like the problem is solved with that alone. It’s not going to work like that.”

Michael leaned in closer. “That’s why I’m here to facilitate this conversation. I promise you, we’re going to make progress today. As long as you’re okay with this.”

He sighed. “Alright, fine. Let’s see it.”

Michael gestured to the woman outside, who didn’t seem particularly keen on participating, but sat down regardless. He could see her shuffle in her seat, and stare at her thumbs while twiddling them.

“Why don’t we get started, then? Who would like to go first?”

Cliff looked at Sylvie expectantly, but she didn’t say a word. The only sound in the room was that maddening buzzing from the AC. He had to prevent this from feeling more awkward than it already had been.

“Alright, since everyone here clearly wants to know about what happened between Noah and I, I’ll nip this in the bud. It was all my fault. That’s all that needs to be said, really. There’s no underlying cause of this, nothing to look under a microscope or to psychoanalyze or anything like that. I screwed up, and that’s all.”

Cliff pointed to his left at Sylvie. “And she doesn’t need to be here. Because this isn’t going to work.” He looked over in her direction. “No offense, by the way.”

She nodded. “You’re fine.”

“Thank you for sharing, Cliff. What about you, Sylvie?”

Sylvie seemed to sink into her chair. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Take your time, you’ll be fine,” Michael said.

“I wasn’t prepared for this! I’m not ready yet.”

“And that’s okay. No one is ever ready for most things in life. Not all situations can be prepared for. So we adjust and we adapt.”

“I know! But I can’t do it. I can’t.” Sylvie curled up into a ball, trembling.

Cliff put a hand on her shoulder. “You alright?”

She nodded once more, still shaking.

“It’ll go down soon. We’re both here for you.” He turned to look back at Michael. “Told you.”

The therapist slumped his shoulders, deflating like a balloon that got its air squeezed out. “Yeah. Maybe you were right. I should’ve thought about it more.”

“Well, at least you tried.” Cliff stood up. “I got to go. Work’s calling. She’ll be fine, right?”

“I’ll help her. You can go.” He waved his hand toward the door.

Cliff gave a thumbs up, and meandered his way out of the office. He looked back one last time, before closing the door behind him.

----

It was dark out. So dark that the only thing that could be seen was the outline of the closet in the wall facing ahead of the bed. Sylvie knew exactly when it was, as she obsessively kept checking the time every 30 or so minutes to see it change, to see if something would change, but no. She was still awake. Her body was tired, but her mind wasn’t.

She looked over at her friend sleeping next to her. Caoimhe looked even more adorable when she slept. It was envious how fast she could fall into a deep slumber compared to her.

Sylvie sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall ahead of her. Was it really that difficult? Or was she not trying hard enough? It was obvious now why the session failed as spectacularly as it did. It had to have been her. All the cracks in the foundations, all those little flaws piling on top of each other. All her.

Even when Sylvie defined their friendship in her own way, she still couldn’t measure up to those expectations. And that was pathetic.

What more could be said? She failed her friend. Failed herself. Failed everyone around her. Failed in every aspect of her pitiful life.

Sylvie pulled out her phone, and checked the time. It was 3:30 in the morning. Any longer and she would pull an all-nighter. The last time that happened was when she was 17 and stayed up all night on Christmas Eve to finish wrapping her gifts that //should’ve// been done the day before.

The day after wasn’t too bad, but that experience instilled a deep, primal fear inside her, one where she will never get enough sleep, and each night will get progressively worse, culminating to one all-nighter after another, and then she will get the hallucinations, and feel like a walking corpse, with no respite from the waking hell that she lived in.

She’d rather be narcoleptic, at that point.

But it was going to happen. There was nothing that could be done. Hitting her head against the wall and falling into a coma would be easier than this.

And there it was. That subtle shift that she could feel.

It was hard to feel at first, but Sylvie could always tell when the worst of it was to come, even when nothing was out of the ordinary seconds earlier. It had started. She didn’t even have to feel her breath falter to know it was starting.

Her heart rose up her throat, before dropping back down again. Rise, and fall, rise, and fall. It got faster, and faster, the sudden starting and stopping feeling like a car engine failing to power on.

//It’s here.//

Her vision blurred, the room collapsing in on itself as if it was an optical illusion on steroids, or an M.C. Escher painting. She scrambled for the bathroom, wheezing and nearly falling as she did so, bracing a hand against the smooth plaster wall to help her navigate. She could see the bathroom door in front of her. It was so close. Just a few steps away. One step, then another, then—

The door swung open, and Sylvie nearly collapsed on the bathroom floor. She crawled her way towards the rightmost wall, and curled up against it, slamming her eyes shut. Rise and fall, rise and fall went her heart. There was no other sound but her own breathing, leaving an awful nothingness that pulsed in her ears, refusing to quit. And there was that horrible, discordant thumping inside her.

“Why can’t you just get it over with? Please?” Sylvie whispered, tears streaming down her face. “I can’t wait like this. Not now. I have to be strong. I have to be strong for her.”

But there was no convincing, or pleading that could stop it. All she could do was wait.

Was she even breathing now? She couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. Her chest would tighten nonetheless.

The only sound that could be heard was the clock that was ticking to the right of the bathroom mirror. She latched onto it, her mind grasping at the constant, cyclic sound. Focus. //Focus.//

It felt like days until Sylvie could somewhat feel aware of the surroundings around her. She opened her eyes, the darkness still overpowering her. Taking deep breaths, she slowly crawled her way up the wall, and took her time to stand. Once her legs stopped wobbling and she felt stable enough to not fall over again, then it was safe. Hopefully.

Looking to her right from the bathroom door towards the hallway, it seemed that Caoimhe was still fast asleep. She was a heavy sleeper, after all. Not even jumping up and down on the floor with the heaviest boots that Sylvie had would wake her.

She stalked her way across the hallway to the left, and carefully turned the door open to the rest of the dormitories. Her muscles were still tight, her breathing shallow. There had to be someone out there. She didn’t care who, just anyone would do.

She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take.

----

The cafeteria looked quite eerie with no one around. But that was how Cliff liked it. As a night owl, he enjoyed staying up late and basking in the silence and the empty halls. Nobody around to deal with. A calming quiet that pervaded the atmosphere of every room. No distractions from his work. Pure bliss.

His superiors always told him that he didn’t really need to stay up overnight to work. There were plenty of janitors that they hired, so it wasn’t like overtime was necessary. But he did the work regardless. Why not? There wasn’t much to do this late.

But there was a difference between choosing to be alone, and that feeling that he had always felt. Of being left behind to sink into the depths of complete and total seclusion from other people.

Cliff couldn’t have that. Yes, he chose this grave that he dug himself in. Yes, he actively stayed away from people and focused on mopping floors for a living. But didn’t he deserve more than that? Didn’t he deserve //something// in his life? Someone?

Not in that way. But that never meant that he should be cast aside and laid to waste, forever doing the same routines and walking the same route through this facility over and over again. That connection that can be formed with other people still mattered to him.

And yet, he was still standing here, in the cafeteria, with nothing to look forward to but a broom that’s been worn and weathered by old and rough hands, and the distinctive plinking sound of water as it dripped onto the bucket below him.

Just as he began to resign himself back to his work, he heard a sound off in the distance. A faint pit-pat, pit-pat that gradually became louder as it got closer. It was the distinct, rapid sound of footsteps, of someone running, of someone who was desperate. For what? Cliff couldn’t tell.

He got into a defensive position, broom at the ready to smack who or whatever was coming towards him. They didn’t have any killer statues or anything at this site, but you could never completely let your guard down working for something like the Foundation.

When the shadow of a person was close enough to become a faint outline, Cliff could recognize that it was a woman, with hair that ran down to her shoulders and with recognizable bangs—

Oh, wait. It was that blonde chick that he had that session with earlier in the day. What was her name again? Sylvie, right? Yeah, Sylvie.

Why was she here? Clearly he made her nervous, which was understandable, considering the fact that he looked like a nomad who lived deep in the woods, way outside of human civilization. But if she was running back to him instead of her friend while looking this frantic, then something wasn’t right.

He dropped the broom, which promptly clattered on the floor, echoing through the empty cafeteria, and he ran towards her. Once she reached him, she leapt into his arms, and broke down, sobbing and barely being able to stand as she held onto him.

This wasn’t the reaction that Cliff expected, but he made sure to hold onto her as tight as he could.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, you’re going to be okay, shhh, it’s okay,” Cliff attempted to comfort her as he gently patted her on the shoulder.

Sylvie tried her best to calm herself. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know,” and she went right back to breaking down again.

“It’s alright, I got you, it’s okay.” Cliff moved them both to a nearby table, and gestured to Sylvie to sit.

They both sat there, with Sylvie still trembling and bawling her eyes out. She held his hand, to ground herself, an anchor to reality and stability. It felt like forever until she was finally coherent enough to tell him everything.

Deep breaths. In, and out, in, and out. And she was okay. Not great, but okay.

“I don’t think I’m good enough for her.”

Cliff was taken aback. “Hang on, say that again, I must not be hearing things right.”

“No, I’m serious. It’s never enough. Nothing I do is ever enough. I’m never satisfied, and I doubt she is either.” She sighed. “Why am I even telling you this? I’m sorry, I’m really out of it right now, I shouldn’t be oversharing—”

Cliff put a hand up. “No, no, it’s fine. I get it. You want to know something? I’ve felt the exact same way with him.”

Sylvie turned to look at him. “With Noah, right?”

“Yeah. I did care, but it never felt like I showed it. I was present, and we were doing everything that a couple would do, and going through the motions, but I felt nothing at all.”

Her eyes grew wider. “Do you think the same thing is happening to me?”

“Well, I hope not.” Cliff looked to see Sylvie whimper in response. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that— God I’m an idiot. You’re not going to end up like me, okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Look,” he let go of her hand and placed his hand on her shoulder, “the reason why I screwed everything up was because I was focusing on the wrong thing. I was focusing on what he and I as a couple could’ve been instead of what I had in front of me. I didn’t even bother to ask him for help, to see if we could work it out together. I tried to fix it all myself, and when that didn’t work I packed everything up and left to work here.”

“Wow, I- I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing I can do now. But I can help you. Nothing is ever going to be exactly what you want. None of this has to be perfectly planned or understood to mean something to you or her. You just have to take it all one step at a time. And you have to tell her everything. That’s the one thing I never did, and I’ll be damned if I don’t prevent you from making that same mistake.”

He stood up, and helped her to stand as well. “Love is what we make it out to be. And that’s the same for whatever you have going on. You can’t know how this’ll go until you //talk to her//.”

“But what if that part of me is right? What if we aren’t the right fit for each other?” Sylvie asked one final time.

“If that was the case, then I wouldn’t be seeing you making eyes at each other all the time. Well, not like that, but you know. Now come on, you gotta get to bed.”

“What about—”

“I’m staying up for another hour, I’ve got work to do. You need those hours more than I ever will. Come on.” And he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards the personnel dormitories.

Once they were there, he opened the door for her, and led her into her room.

“Have a good night, okay? Well, at least the time that you still have left.”

“I’ll try. And thanks. I needed that.” Sylvie smiled ruefully, feeling relief but a sense of uncertainty that was still there.

They waved goodbye, with Sylvie closing her door quietly to get back to her friend, and Cliff walking off into the night. It wasn’t over yet, but Cliff could sense a change in the air, a good change. A change for the better.

----

Sylvie struggled to open her eyes, her vision blurry, her eyelids heavy. She could hear a voice right beside her, but her processing power was too off the fritz to fully understand the muffled sound. That was the very obvious downside of staying way up past her bedtime.

Attempting to sit up was an immediate failure, as her entire body refused to budge, no matter how many electrical signals she sent to each nerve. It felt tempting to close her eyes and drift off to sleep once more, in her dreams where she could fly above the clouds and nothing bad will ever happen.

But she didn’t get that chance, as she was violently shaken awake by a pair of hands. Sylvie looked to her left, to see Caoimhe grin at her.

“Morning, sunshine!” Her smile was as bright as a warm summer day. “You alright there? You look absolutely shattered.”

“No, it’s fine. Just another bad night.”

Caoimhe’s expression shifted. “This is the third time in the last three months. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“You don’t have to worry about me, alright? I’m fine,” she pulled the covers off of her, “but I need to go talk to someone.”

Caoimhe tilted her head. “To who?”

“Nothing important. I just need to figure this last thing out.”

She put a hand on her shoulder. “You know you can talk about it with me, right? We can help each other out.”

“I will, actually. But not now. I’ll tell you why when I have the chance. Just trust me, okay?”

Caoimhe nodded in acknowledgment. “Okay, but I think we still need to talk. You don’t have to hide what you’re feeling.”

“I know.” Sylvie pulled her into an embrace. “Thank you for always being there for me. I don’t know where I would be without you.”

They held each other there, time standing still, before Caoimhe pulled herself back. “Stay safe, okay?”

“I will.” Sylvie moved over to the edge of the bed, and stood up against the weight of everything that pushed her to her lowest point, and every expectation pushing her even further.

Her world mattered the most, even if the wider world was against her, even if she didn’t belong anywhere, even if the things she prioritized were only secondary to everyone else. Nothing could ever break the friendship that she had. They were the flowers that bloomed in concrete, the stars that shined brighter together, the outliers that made life as beautifully vivid and complex as it was.

Nothing will break them apart. She will live her life on her own terms, and not even Cupid himself will take that away from her.

Once Sylvie got dressed and prepared for the day ahead, she went toward the only place that she knew he'd be at. The cafeteria was even more of a zoo today, and while distracted by the horde of personnel Sylvie nearly bumped into someone carrying a tray of food. She zipped through crowds of people, looking for Cliff and his droopy and sad-looking mop. The sea of researchers almost made it impossible to find even a glimpse of anyone resembling a janitor, but eventually Sylvie broke free from the flock and stood by the ramp leading out into the hallway above.

There she saw him, leaning against the wall and checking his watch. While walking up to him, she could tell that he was bored out of his mind.

“Hi.” Sylvie waved awkwardly toward him.

He gave a half-attempt at a wave back. “So, how did it go?”

“I didn’t tell her anything yet. I wanted to see if you can help me figure out what to say.”

Cliff shrugged. “Sure, why not. Got nothing to do around here anyway.”

They made their way to a nearby table, and sat down next to each other.

“Okay, so. Tell me what you remember about what I said last night.”

“I need to focus on what matters to me now, right? Tell her how I feel. Actually try to work it out with her,” Sylvie recalled.

“That’s right.”

“But what if I slip up? What if I say the wrong thing? I know you said I can’t spiral over it again, but what should I say? I don’t have any clue where to start.”

Cliff pondered for a moment. “You know what? How about I tell you what I should’ve told Noah, and then you can figure it out from there. Yeah, that’ll work.”

He then pulled out a letter, and began to read off of it, with Sylvie listening intently at every word he spoke.

“I was only with you because I was trying to figure out myself. I was trying to love the person that I wanted to turn out to be, and living a happy life with someone else was part of that. I should’ve realized that our relationship was more than a checklist, but there’s nothing that can be done now.”

“I think if younger me knew that there were more ways to love and appreciate someone than what we’re presented with, maybe things could’ve been different. I could’ve been there for you. I could’ve treated you as you wanted to be instead of how I thought I had to. It would’ve been nice to know that being close with someone doesn’t have to strictly be a black and white thing. But for what it’s worth, at least you’re better off without me.”

He rolled the letter back up, and placed it in his pocket.

“See? It’s not what you should be telling her, but it’s the truth. It’s what I should’ve said to him. You need to tell her exactly why you’re feeling this way, and then you can figure it out together with her after that,” Cliff explained.

“Right, right.” Sylvie frowned. “What about you?”

Cliff raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”

“I don’t know, I just think you should be more forgiving to yourself, that’s all.”

“Eh.” He waved it off. “That’s past the point. I made my decisions, and you should be making better ones.”

“Would Noah want that?” Sylvie asked him.

He glared at her. “You don’t know shit about Noah.”

“Yeah, you’re right, sorry.” She sighed. “But I’d think he’d forgive you, wouldn’t he? But even if he didn’t, I think he’d want you to at least forgive yourself. You helped me out this much, so I think I should return the favor.”

Cliff paused for a moment. “You’d really do that?”

“Yeah. Yeah I would,” she replied.

In a split second, Sylvie could see Cliff’s expression shift, like a weight that he’d been holding for years had finally been lifted.

“I’ve never had anyone do that for me. Thanks, I guess.”

“I can’t leave a fellow aro behind, you know? We gotta stick together,” Sylvie said.

He tried to conceal the smile that was creeping in, but it was there. “I don’t know how anyone can help me of all people. I still don’t know what’s in store for me. Who I should be in spite of everything.”

“Well, we can figure that out together, right?” She held out her hand.

He accepted it. “Sure. Why not.”

----

It was the 26th. One year ago on this day, Sylvie and Caoimhe found each other in the lab, working together on various experiments. They were an unlikely pair, but their chemistry for each other mixed together to form a bond that could never split apart.

Throughout all of this, Caoimhe was her usual bubbly self, always looking after her, always cheering her up after every failed experiment with lackluster results, always being the light to brighten up her day.

If she had anything negative to say about Sylvie, she must have been very good at hiding it. But that never showed. There were no signs, no change in her expression, nothing but that bright and jovial smile. The only changes that moved in flux were Sylvie’s thoughts about everything they had and everything that could be taken away.

But communication was key. If the problem couldn’t be solved alone, reaching out would be the next best thing.

She went down the hallway connecting all the personnel dormitories, her mind racing, her heart lumped in her throat. There were so many things that could happen. So many things that could go wrong. But she couldn’t run in circles anymore. There was no other way.

The door opened, and she stepped into her friend’s room. It looked to be even more of a mess, with papers scattered around her desk and the wastebasket overflowing with soda cans, with a few having fallen out onto the floor. Sylvie knew Caoimhe was extra busy as she was still working on that project for the higher-ups. She had no idea who those higher-ups were, but they had to be important, right?

With all this bureaucracy and red tape, it could get difficult to track names and faces. But that didn’t matter at this moment. She shouldn’t make her friend’s life even harder by sitting this out.

Caoimhe was sitting at her desk, head in hands, staring at a large set of papers stapled together. Sylvie came up and sat beside her, looking over her shoulder.

“What’s all this?” She asked.

“What do you think?” Caoimhe threw the papers up in the air. “Sorry, I’m just really frustrated right now. Nothing’s been working, and I’m supposed to show this to my supervisor in a week from now. I don’t know what to do.”

Sylvie had never seen her like this. Never this exhausted. “I can help you out with that, if you need any suggestions or anything.”

“No, I’ll be fine, you don’t need to worry about me.” She shrugged it off.

“I should be, actually. It’s okay to ask for help. Take it from me, I could also use some help right now.”

Caoimhe looked at her curiously. “Is something up?”

“More like something’s down. I need to talk to you about something, and it’s really important, and I know that I shouldn’t be distracting you from your work, but I just need to let this out of my system.”

Her smile came back in full force. “Anything that distracts me from this hawkshite is a plus. C’mon.” She pulled her arm as she rolled her desk chair to the middle of the room, where they had more space to talk without feeling cramped.

She swiveled the chair around to face her. “You can take your time, alright? No rush here. Say what you want to say.”

Sylvie sat there, contemplating on what to say, analyzing every single word that could be phrased in different ways. But it was obvious what needed to be said. She didn’t have to overthink it this time. It had to come from her heart.

“I’d first like to say that whatever I’m feeling is not because of you. It’s my fault. All of it is. I didn’t feel like I was doing enough for you. I never defined any of this with you, and I know it's ours and that’s all it needs to be, but I’m scared, Caoimhe. I’m scared of being left behind. I’m a big fucking baby. I’m not proud of who I am at all.”

She could feel herself shaking again. “I just wanted to live a quiet, carefree life with you. I shouldn’t have to worry about how people see me. See us. Because it’s not what they expect. I feel like I’d fall apart without you, not even for a week, and that’s not healthy. You’re off to that important project, and I’m sitting here by myself because I don’t have anyone else. I’m sorry for dragging you down all this time. I’m not worth it.”

She could feel the tears coming again. Why was she so weak? Why was she so worthless? Maybe the world was right about her. Maybe—

A soft, warm embrace fell onto her like a blanket, allowing her to let it all out, the floodgates opening all the tears that she was holding back.

“You are worth it. You’ve been the most important person in my life, Sylvie. I’m serious. Do you remember the time when I fractured my leg, and you volunteered to do both my work and yours at the same time, regardless of how taxing that would be? Do you remember rushing over to my dorm after my mom had to be taken to the hospital, doing everything you can to support me when I thought she was going to die? Do you remember all those times where you took me out bowling, or ate at your favorite restaurant, or when we laughed at all your baby photos? Do you even remember //any of that//? You’ve done more than enough.”

Caoimhe pulled away from her. “If anything, I’m not the one pulling my weight. But I don’t think it matters how much we’re doing to let each other know that we care. What matters is that we care. You still care a lot about me. And I’m the same. Even more so. Because you’re the coolest person I know. You’re my best friend. That’s not ever going to change. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Sylvie nodded, wiping her tears away. “Okay. Thank you. Sorry for all of that.”

“No need to apologize. Better to just say it than keep it buried inside, eh?”

“Yeah.” Sylvie stood up. “Shit! I forgot. I still have that surprise for you today.”

“What surprise?” Caoimhe asked.

“For our anniversary. I thought we should make it more special, bring a few more people to celebrate with.”

Caoimhe hugged her again, squeezing her as hard as she could. “That is class! You’re the best, Sylvie.”

“Yeah, okay, okay, can you stop squeezing me please—”

Later in the day, they all gathered up in Sylvie’s room. Caoimhe, Cliff, and Michael were all there, playing cards and having a good time. They had a giant chocolate cake and everything. Once they had downtime, Sylvie went up to Cliff, who was leaning against the wall.

“Hey. I want to say thanks. For helping me out.”

Cliff nodded. “Least I could do.”

He took a sip of his drink. “Well, I better get going. Thanks for inviting me.”

He turned to the door, before Sylvie grabbed his arm. “I think we should talk, first. I still need to put in my part of our deal.”

Cliff simply stood there. “I do appreciate it, but you can’t help me. No one can.”

“I’ll try my best. You don’t have to feel like you’re left out of the conversation anymore. I know what that’s like. You can hang out with us. Hang out with me.”

He turned his head to the right. “Can you find me a guy who doesn’t think I’m there to only have sex?”

“I’ll look around. You know that guy over at T&C, the one with the lip piercing? Caoimhe told me that he was a tattoo artist before he got here. I think that’s pretty cool.”

Cliff chuckled. “I don’t think I’m ready for that, yet.”

“Yeah. All I’m saying is that I hope that you find someone who makes you feel loved in a way that you’re comfortable with. Or if you don’t want to partner with anyone, that’s okay too. I still question myself sometimes, even though I got it mostly figured out, but that’s fine, because we’re always discovering something new about ourselves each and every day. You’re you, and that’s all that matters.”

He fully turned towards her. “You’re a kind soul, you know that?”

“Yeah. Thanks. Thank you. The door is this way.”

They walked out the door together, and as Sylvie held it open for him, Michael watched them from the chair by the back wall. He knew it would work eventually. It wasn’t how he wanted it to go, but it turned out right in the end.

To turn out, to figure out this aspect of your life, it was hard to navigate. It always was. But with others by your side, to be there to support you no matter what, to make you feel like you belong, it lightened the burden. There will always be others out there just like Sylvie. Just like Cliff. Just like Michael. It’s what gave the world its beauty with a variety of experiences and identities that made up all of its shades of colors.

Even if the world didn’t want them, they still existed. They will always exist, and they will always be free to live as they want to, to dance and cry and run and laugh and smile and //live.//

In the end, it will all turn out for the better. And just this once, love lost.

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