Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was a dumb idea.

But.

Five drinks in and with a sixth on the go, you don’t really care about that right now. 

And you know what? It’s funny! You’re sick of pretending it isn’t! You just want to talk about it without ruining the mood for everyone. You’ve been trying to talk about it! You promised you would, and you’ve really, really tried! But every time you bring it up everyone gets sad. They look at you like— like you beat up their puppy or something. Or maybe you’re the puppy that got beat up? 

Whatever. Point is, they get sad when you talk about it, which makes you not want to talk about it, which makes them worry even more. And that doesn’t get you anywhere.

So for now, the tentative solution you’ve arrived at is this: Alcohol.

You’re not drinking alone, of course. That would be irresponsible! Nope, Isa and Odile are right here with you, cackling into their glasses at a joke you’ve definitely made before, and the fact that Odile’s laughing at all means she’s nice and inebriated. Isa would’ve laughed regardless, but you can tell he’s had more than his fair share, too. 

You three are sat around a table at the inn’s bar while Mira and Bonbon are having a sleepover upstairs. Mira doesn’t really drink, and she said that hanging out with Bonbon would feel less like babysitting than being around the lot of you while you’re plastered — which is rude, since they’re a literal preteen, but also true. This way, the two of them don’t have to hang out with annoying drunk people, but they’re close enough to help out if one of you gets a bit too messy. 

“Mmkay,” you say, squinting at the list in your hands. You’re pretty sure you’ve got all of them, now. Your memory’s still blinded, that’ll never change, but it’s pretty hard to forget these, haha! They’ll stay with you forever!!! Stars, your handwriting sucks, though. If you didn’t already know what it said, you wouldn’t be able to read it at all. “Should I start with the best or the worst?”

You can feel your accent sliding in a little thicker, the Vaugardian pronunciations clumsier on your tongue than usual. You usually try to wrangle it back in, but Isa and Odile haven’t mentioned it, and it’s nice not having to worry about it as much. You need to focus on what you’re saying more than how you’re saying it, and with the alcohol buzzing through your veins, you don’t think you can do both right now.

Isa hums. “Maybe start with the w—”

“Best,” Odile says, abruptly cutting him off. “Work your way up to the worse ones. I’m not drunk enough to jump straight into the deep end yet.”

Well, you’re not sure about that — you’re pretty sure all three of you are well on your way to developing a hangover tomorrow! — but sure, you can do that.

“As you wish!” you say, and then snort. Wishes! Ha! You’re so funny! Oh, they’re not laughing. Maybe they don’t get it. Boo… “Are you excited? Are you on the edge of your seats?”

“Sif. Buddy.” Isa leans in, his eyes twinkling. “The suspense is killing me.”

Ha! HAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh, now that gets you. You double over and slap the table as Isa chuckles. You’re laughing so hard you think you might throw up.

When you finally raise your head again, tears in your eye and your cheeks warm, Isa grins proudly. And you managed to keep your dinner! You’re so good at this.

Odile glares. “I hate both of you,” she says matter-of-factly. “I am at my absolute limit.”

“Nahhh, you love us,” Isa says. He looks at you, and then back at Odile. Huh…?

She sighs. “Yes, yes, of course I do. I was just being dramatic.”

Oh! She didn’t even deny it that time! You feel warm.

“Anyway, let’s get this over with,” she says, twirling her drink idly. “I’m not excited, as you put it, but I do want to know very badly. So. Spill.”

You tilt your glass dangerously and raise an eyebrow.

“Not your drink! Gems. Are you stalling?”

“Me?” You bat your eyes innocently. Eye. Whatever. “Noooo. I would never.”

“Siffrin.”

“Okay, okay!” You raise your hands defensively and grin. “Okay. Number one. Numero uno. The best of the best. Was.” You pause for dramatic effect. “…Pineapple.”

They both blink at you.

“Pineapple?” Isa tilts his head. Cute! “How did a pineapple kill you? Did it fall from the sky, or—”

Odile inhales sharply. “You— You’re allergic!” She gestures to you in accusation. Scary! “You mentioned it so Boniface would know not to feed you any, but you never said you’d actually tried it! You said Loop had told you!”

Isabeau balks. “Wait, you’re that allergic? I thought it’d just make you sick or something! Sif!”

Aww, busted. “I didn’t know I was allergic! I mean yeah, Loop told me, but I forgot.”

“How did you forget that?!” Odile looks affronted. 

Hmph. Of course she wouldn’t get it. How do you forget anything important to you? How do you forget your home, your childhood, your own name? The names of your loved ones? Everything that’s ever blinding happened to you? She gets to keep it all. Maybe you’re not trying hard enough.

…That’s not the point. This is about pineapples.

You stick out your tongue. “It was yummy, though,” you say. “That’s why it was the best one. Spicy! Totally to die for.”

Isa lets out an alarmed laugh. Heh, success! 

Odile puts her head in her hands. “Siffrin. Pineapple isn’t spicy,” she says behind her fingers. “That was— ugh, Isabeau, what’s the Vaugardian word for it?”

“It’s anapha— anaphylaxis.” He stumbles a bit over the syllables, but you know it’s just because he’s drunk and not because he doesn’t know it. Isa knows all the big words. Nerd. “Pineapple’s supposed to taste kinda sour and sweet. Like, tart! Not spicy.”

Oh. That makes sense.

You shrug. “Well, I still liked it! Not enough to try it more than a couple times—”

Odile makes a strangled noise. “A couple times?!”

“—but it was better than the others. At least while the taste lasted.” You pause. “Choking to death wasn’t really fun, though. Wouldn’t recommend that part.”

“Y-Yeah, I bet!” Isabeau squeaks. “Can’t say I’m planning on trying it any time soon!”

You narrow your eye. “Are you guys gonna be this weird about all of them?”

Odile sips her drink. “We are literally listening to you rank the ways you’ve died, Siffrin,” she says flatly. “We’re going to be a little ‘weird’ about it. Especially if it involves hearing that you’ve eaten things you’re deathly allergic to more than once.”

“I only did it twice, and the first time was an accident!”

“Sif, buddy, pal. The love of my life. My partner in crime.” He looks at you with all the kindness and patience in the Universe. “You know that’s not better, right?”

You kinda thought it was, actually, but you manage to catch yourself before saying that aloud.

Odile sighs. “Do you even have an excuse for the second time?”

“…I wanted to know Bonbon’s favourite foods,” you admit. “And I just wanted to eat something different for once. Since it didn’t matter anyway…”

Odile and Isa exchange glances. You hate when they do that.

“…Well, okay!” Isa says cheerfully. “Sounds like that one wasn’t too traumatic, then! What’s the second best?”

“Isabeau, don’t call them the ‘best’ deaths, it’ll only encourage him…”

You ignore her. “That one’s a bit harder,” you say. “I couldn’t decide between two of them to put second, since they were both pretty equal? But, uh, overall I think the rock trap was. Less bad.”

“The… rock trap?” Odile asks.

Isa’s spine straightens in recognition. “Oh! The one in the Death Corridor, right? Loop had to tell us how to disarm it…” He winces. “Oh, I guess you found out about that one the hard way, huh?”

You laugh. “Yeah, the hard way,” you say, smirking. Odile groans, but you get another laugh from Isabeau, even if it sounds a bit strained. “But it was fast! Near instant! Barely even felt it,” you reassure them. “It was more annoying than anything. The trap only triggered if we felt safe, so I was never expecting it. Most of the time I remembered to disarm it, but…”

“…But it’s you we’re talking about, here,” Odile finishes for you. 

Haha, ouch! She’s right, but ouch!

Isa shudders. “I get what you mean with the quickness, but crab, that boulder was so big… We saw what happens when you disarm it, it was so loud! Like, BAM!!!” 

He punches his fist for good measure. Around the room, a few people turn their heads. Odile shushes him. 

He blushes, hunching his shoulders. “Ah, sorry… But! You know! It was a lot! So imagining someone underneath it…”

“Yeah, it probably looked pretty gross from the outside,” you grimace. “That was the first way I died, too, right at the start. If I wasn’t looping…”

You trail off, and take another swig of your drink. You never know what to order at bars, because you always forget what the drinks are called and have no real personality traits that aren’t stolen from other people, so you just copied Odile and went for vodka. Yours is mixed with ginger beer, though. You’re not sure how she can stand to drink it straight. Tastes bad.

“…I know the loops were difficult for you—” HA! Understatement of the century! “—but I’m very, very glad that wasn’t the final timeline,” Odile says. “We’re all very fond of you, Siffrin. I’m glad you’re alive, and not crushed under a rock.”

Oh…!!!

“Aww, M’dame Odile, that’s so sweet!” Isabeau coos. Your cheeks are burning…!

“Shut up,” she says. Is she blushing too, or is that just the alcohol? “I’m just reassuring them, we all know how he can get. Don’t get mushy on me, Isabeau.”

“You started it!~”

“I did not—!”

“You guys are so nice,” you sniff, and in this moment, not even you can tell if it’s an act or not. “This is so much better than dying in a rock trap…!”

For some reason, this is what gets Odile. “Pfft— HAH!” She bursts into a fit of laughter, nearly spilling her drink. After a beat, Isa joins in, both of them giggling hysterically. “Hhaaaah, that’s too good,” she says, wiping her eyes. “Thank you, Siffrin. I’m glad talking to us is better than being killed by a giant boulder.”

“So flattering,” Isa adds. “Truly the highest of compliments!”

You mean it, though!!! You love being around them!!! You can’t believe you get to just… have this. It still feels too good to be true. You keep thinking you’re dreaming, and that one day you’ll wake up in that meadow or sometime before you’d even met all of them, and realise none of it was real.

But it is. It is real. You are loved. You’re loved you’re loved you’re loved.

You don’t deserve this, but… Please, you beg, Please don’t take this from me. If I can only ever keep one thing, let it be this.

Is the Universe listening? Can It hear you? Does It care?

You take another sip, hiding your face behind the glass. The vodka burns your throat on the way down. It’s good. Distracting.

“What was the third one, then?” Odile asks, saving you from your crisis. “You said it was around the same level as the rock, so I’m curious.”

You rest your glass back on the table, tracing the rim with your finger. You glance back at your list, even though you don’t really need to. This one’s pretty easy, you think.

“Third was the Tears,” you say. “You know, the— the ones that freeze you in time if you touch them?”

“Oh yeah! Bonbon pointed those out when we were in the House!” Isabeau pauses. “And that was… worse than the rock thing?”

“Mmmm, not at first?” You make a so-so gesture with your hand. “If you asked me, like… ten, fifteen loops in, I probably would’ve put it first on the list. Because! It was peaceful! Like dreaming! But the, heh, loopier I got—” you’ve made that joke too many times, neither of them bat an eye, “—the worse the dreams got. And— And it was slow. And cold. I got impatient with it eventually. Sick of it.”

You still remember every dream you had while frozen. Because of course, why wouldn’t you? Your brain only remembers the things you don’t want it to, that’s just how the Universe works. You’re just soooo blindingly lucky like that.

Odile raises her eyebrows. “Was it different from being frozen by a Sadness? That happened a few times as we went through the House, but Mirabelle was always able to unfreeze us, so I never considered it ‘dying’.”

You nod. “Yeah, I got frozen by Sadnesses plenty of times too, but that never made me loop? The Tears felt more… uh…” You trail off. What’s the word, again?

“Permanent?” she offers.

“Yes! That!” You snap your fingers. “I don’t think Mira would’ve been able to bring us back from those. I mean, I never tested it, because it was always me getting frozen…” You chuckle. “Heh, there was this one row of Tears that Isa would nearly walk into every loop, and the one time I almost forgot to stop him I totally freaked out! I don’t know how I would’ve reacted if he actually got frozen and Mira couldn’t save him.” Probably badly! You still shudder thinking about it.

“Aww, Sif…” Isa blushes. “You were that worried about me?”

“Um, duh?” you say. He’s smart, but he can be so dumb sometimes. “Of course I was worried? I love you?”

He makes a very high-pitched noise. Cute!!!

Odile rolls her eyes. “The two of you, I swear…”

Huh?

…Oh, you just remembered that’s embarrassing to say out loud. You resist the urge to hide your face again.

“I— I would’ve been worried about any of you!” you scramble to add. “I love all of you, I didn’t want any of you to get frozen!” Noooo, you’re making it worse now!

“Ew, the dreaded L-word. Disgusting,” she says, but she’s smiling, so it’s okay, you think? You breathe out. Isabeau is still malfunctioning, and you know from experience now that it might take him a few moments to get back to normal. “But still,” she continues, “None of us were frozen by Tears even once? Yet it somehow happened to you enough times to get sick of it?”

“Well, yeah,” you say, shrugging. “If I ever got stuck and needed to loop, or if I wanted to skip forward to save time, it was the easiest way to do it. At least for a while.”

They both grimace at that. Huh…?

“You froze yourself on purpose?” Isa asks, hesitant. “But you just said…”

“…Yes? Because I knew it would make me loop?” You frown. “The first time was an accident, but every other time it was just because we got stuck or something.”

Odile narrows her eyes at you.

“D-Don’t look at me like that!” you protest. “It was completely painless! You would’ve done the same thing if you were the one looping!”

“…I probably would, yes,” she allows. You’re similar in that regard, and you both know it. “I suppose it doesn’t sound like too bad a ‘death’, all things considered, so I’ll let it slide.”

You’d hope so, considering that was the tamest way you’d force a loop. You glance at your list again.

…You’re really not looking forward to some of the next ones.

“I still can’t believe you ranked being frozen in time worse than the rock trap…” Isa laments.

Odile scoffs. “I still can’t believe you ranked anaphylaxis as the ‘best’ death.”

You’re really, really not looking forward to the next ones.

“They’re my deaths, I can rank them however I want,” you say, sticking your tongue out. “And anyway, it doesn’t really matter what order those three went in. Those were the easy ones.”

Isa doesn’t quite choke on his drink, but it’s a very close thing. “‘Easy’?!”

“…You know we lost to the King, like, a bunch of times, right?” You raise an eyebrow. “Obviously that was way worse than these. Come on, Isa. That’s the whole point of ranking them.”

“I knowww… I just wish you didn’t have to die so much,” he says, pouting. You try not to flinch. Clearly, you fail, because he quickly adds— “Ah! I mean, no wishing, we’re not doing that! I just wi— wanted, you to not, um, have to go through all of that? But!!! It happened anyway, I know, I’m not trying to change that! A-And I’m glad you’re talking about it with us!”

He goes to grab your hands, and successfully knocks his drink over in the process. 

“…Oh, crab,” he says.

It was some sort of fruity cocktail you can’t remember the name of, sweet and cranberry-based. You like those types of drinks too, but you never order them for yourself because they’re expensive, and you don’t want to waste the group’s money on yourself. Isa, though, deserves all the tasty drinks in the world! He usually goes for beer, which isn’t nearly as nice, and you’re proud of him for picking something he actually enjoys more. At least he was nearly done with this one before it ended up all over the table… it would be a shame if he didn’t get to drink it, even if it was far from his first for the night.

You go to stand, but he beats you to it, only slightly swaying as he does. 

“Sorry, sorry!” he apologises. “My bad! I’m gonna go get a cloth. I’ll be right back!”

And then you’re left with Odile, who peers down at you over her glass.

“…This was a bad idea,” you say. 

She smirks. “Maybe, but we’re making progress, aren’t we? We can deal with the consequences tomorrow.”

Ugh. Consequences. You press a hand to your temple. “I’m gonna regret this in the morning… You know I used to never get hangovers? I’m getting old, Odile.”

She positively cackles at that. “You are like a little baby,” she says, sipping her drink. “Just wait ’til you get to my age. You’ll get aches in places you’ve never even heard of.”

“You’re not even that old!” you protest. “I bet I got older than you in the time loop.”

“Siffrin. That’s not even remotely how time works.” She looks amused. “Even if you lied to me about the number of loops—” You didn’t! You were completely honest about it! And it sucked!!! “—I don’t think your brain would be nearly as intact as it is now if you’d somehow managed to loop long enough to catch up to me. Nice try.”

She is. So mean. Loop-years have to be worth at least ten normal-years. But, wait— 

“You think my brain’s intact?” You bat your eyes — EYE! Stars! How are you still forgetting that? — cutely. “That’s so sweet of you, Odile!”

“Why are you like this,” she deadpans.

You laugh. Why, indeed?

Isa rushes back in, a pile of serviettes in his hands. “Sorry, I’m back, I’m back! I couldn’t find a cloth, so…” He dumps the napkins on the table. They get dark and mushy immediately as they soak up the thick liquid. “…That’ll do, right?” 

He pushes them around a bit until everything’s mopped up, then bundles the damp pile back into his hands. You watch as he races to the nearest trashcan, dumps the mess in there, wipes his hands on his pants, and runs back over to sit back down.

He doesn’t have a drink anymore, though… You’re nearly done with yours, too. You knock the remaining beverage back and stand up, ignoring the way the world spins around you. 

“I’m gonna get another drink… Another round?” you ask, looking at Isa and Odile.

“You sure, Sif? I can get it!”

“Nah, I got it.” You wink at him, and giggle when his face turns beet dark.

It doesn’t really matter who orders it, anyway; this is all coming out of the group’s travel funds. You mainly just want to prove that you can still walk in a straight line. Your alcohol tolerance isn’t what it used to be, but no one needs to know that! You can do this!

“I’ll take another, too,” says Odile, who has a little less than a quarter left of hers.

You nod. Ah, but— “Isa?” You smile sheepishly. “What’s your drink called again?” 

You don’t like admitting when you forget things, even though it happens a lot. But you’re getting better at it! You’re learning how to talk to them!!! And also, you’re drunk, and you think it’s fair for drunk people to forget what cocktails are called. Because of the alcohol. Probably.

“It’s a cosmopolitan!” he says brightly. “You can just call it a cosmo for short! The bartender will know what it means!”

Oh! A cosmo! Like ‘cosmos’! The Universe and stuff! Okay, cosmo, cosmo, cosmo. You can remember that. You give two big thumbs up.

“And mine’s a vodka on the rocks,” Odile says dryly. “Do you remember what yours is called, too?”

She’s so mean. YES you know what it’s called. You flick your middle finger up at her in the universal Craft symbol for ‘crab you’, which she returns immediately with a smirk.

Drinks order sorted, you spin on your heel — Woah! Dizzy, haha! — and make your way over to the bar.

You manage to order without much incident. The bartender does have to correct you when you accidentally call Isabeau’s drink a ‘cosmos’, which is so embarrassing you think you might die on the spot, but she got what you meant and that’s what matters. The drinks go on your group’s tab, which will be getting a sizeable discount because you saved the country! That’s nice! The three of you decided earlier not to tell Mira about that. Knowing her, she’d refuse to take it and insist on paying the full price. She’s too kind for her own good. Considering you all risked your lives (and sanity!) to save Vaugarde, you think a small discount is the least they can do.

You do not look at your list while you wait. It won’t be long, but for this brief, beautiful moment in time, you don’t have to think about it. Your alcohol-riddled brain is content to simply zone out and think of nothing until your next cue arrives.

Not that it’s a cue. Stars. You’re not on the stage anymore, Siffrin! Stop thinking like that! Maybe your brain isn’t so intact after all.

Whatever. You stop thinking.

Once the drinks are done, you take all three and carefully carry them back over to your table. You walk slowly, muttering “please don’t spill, please don’t spill, please don’t spill,” under your breath. It’s Wish Craft, you know that now, and after everything you’ve been through you’ve been trying not to use it as much, but you’re drunk and you only have one eye and there’s no way you’d make it back without it, so you don’t really care right now.

You reach the table. Triumphant, you set the three glasses down, without even spilling a drop. You do a bow for good measure.

Isa claps proudly. “Clap clap clap!”

“Yes, yes, they’re very talented,” Odile says, pushing away her now-empty glass and reaching for her new one. “But enough distractions. Let’s get back to business, shall we?”

You slump into your seat, groaning. “Do we have to? The next one’s embarrassing.”

“Yep. Sorry, but you don’t get a choice.” She doesn’t sound very sorry…

“Embarrassing?” Isabeau looks confused. “How can a death be embarrassing?”

“Oh, I can think of a few ways,” Odile offers. “Care to enlighten us, Siffrin?”

“Mmrgh…” You try to hide in your cloak. She’s either going to laugh at you, or be horrified, or both, and you don’t think any of those options sound very fun. “…You know how in comedy plays, a character will step on a banana peel, and then they’ll slip and go splat on the ground and die, and the whole audience laughs?”

“…Yeees?”

“Uh huh…”

“Well…” You avoid their eyes. “…There was this one banana peel in Dormont…”

“…You’re joking.” Her mouth is agape. You pointedly do not say anything. She asks again: “You’re joking, aren’t you, Siffrin?”

“Oh crab…” Isa covers his mouth. “What… How does that even happen?”

Yeah, you’re in danger. “Um. Remember what I said about the Tears? How I’d need to loop forward sometimes to save time?”

“You slipped on a banana peel and killed yourself to save time?!” Odile is staring at you in horror. Haha, you guessed right! You know her so well! “Siffrin. What, and I do not say this lightly, the crab.”

Ooh, Vaugardian swears! You’ve really broken her this time. You don’t think you’ve heard her say ‘crab’ since that one time on the House’s roof.

You wince. “I know it sounds bad—”

“Yes, Siffrin! It sounds bad!”

“—but it was kind of…” You trail off. You probably shouldn’t say this, right? A normal person wouldn’t say this. They will not react well.

She narrows her eyes. “Kind of what.”

Eh, you’re already in trouble, why not make it worse? 

“It was kind of funny,” you say. “I mean, objectively, right? Like, haha, they tripped and broke their neck again! It’s like slapstick!”

You laugh. They don’t laugh with you. Haters.

“…Sif, you know you’re the funniest person I know, right?” Isa asks.

You blink. You weren’t expecting that. “I am?”

“You are!” 

Oh!!! A genuine compliment… Your position as the funnyjokespun person is secured. Thank the stars. It’s all you have left. 

“Which is why I need you to know that this isn’t a personal criticism when I say this,” he continues, “But… Sif. Siffrin. Siffarooni. If you think that slipping on a banana peel and cracking your head open so hard you die is funny, we gotta get you some new jokes, bud.”

…This is the worst thing that has ever happened to you. You just got told your jokes aren’t funny by Isa, of all people. Your life is over. This is it. You’re done.

“Isa, no… How could you…” You press a hand to your heart and slump over dramatically. “You don’t think I’m funny anymore… Where’s a banana peel when you need one…?”

“S-Sif?!?!”

Oh, he didn’t like that one either. “Kidding, I’m kidding!” you say, sitting back upright and holding up your hands in surrender. “I just can’t believe this… I guess my comedy skills are slipping, huh?”

“HA!” Yes, you got him! He slaps his hand over his mouth before more laughter can escape. “Wait, no! I’m not laughing at that! Sif!!!”

“What? Don’t find my jokes a-peel-ing?”

“Noooo!!!” He’s trying so hard not to laugh, his mouth is twisted like a tree branch. 

Against all odds, Odile is smiling. “Come on, Siffrin, admit it,” she says. “You’ll never get us to laugh at your death jokes. It’s an exercise in fruitility.”

…What.

WHAT?!?!

Isabeau explodes. “HAHA— HAHAHAHAHA!!!” He clutches his sides, tears streaming down his face.

You— Your brain is short-circuiting. Odile made a pun?! And it was funny?!?!?!

You can’t help it. You explode with laughter, too. Oh no, there’s something to be said here with side-splitting, laughing, banana splits, but— you’re laughing too hard, you can’t get the words out—!

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” she says, still chuckling. You take a moment to breathe. In and out, come on, normal breathing time. Don’t think about banana puns. “So, I assume when you told Boniface that you couldn’t eat bananas or plantains, this one wasn’t due to an allergy?”

…Maybe the pun can go here? No, the moment has passed. A shame. 

You nod. “Yeah, I’m not allergic, it’s just… the smell,” you say, grimacing. “Makes me think of falling and dying. Nearly threw up when I tried the plantain chips again after doing it a few times.” Even just thinking about it makes your stomach churn. Guess you won’t be having anything banana-flavoured for a long, long time, huh? Just another thing you’ve managed to ruin for yourself with bad associations.

She sighs. “I’d ask why you put yourself through that, but… Again, you were going depressed and insane, so…”

Yeah… It seemed like a good idea at the time, but. Well.

You do not think about the next item on the list.

“…So what’s next, then?”

Except that Isabeau forces you to. Stars damn it.

“I don’t want to talk about the next one,” you say, crossing your arms. “Can we skip it?”

“No,” Odile says. “If you won’t talk about it when you’re drunk, you definitely won’t talk about it when you’re sober. You can’t keep avoiding this.”

You’re pretty sure you can, actually! You can do whatever you blinding want!

“Odile,” Isabeau says gently, “If Sif doesn’t want to talk about it—”

“That’s the entire point of this, Isabeau!” She throws her hands up in exasperation. “If we keep waiting for Siffrin talk about these things on their own time, they never will! And if he keeps everything bottled up, he… We saw what happened last time! It’s not good for him! Or any of us!”

Ouch. She’s right, but ouch, ouch, ouch. All you ever do is hurt them, don’t you?

“That’s not fair,” he says. “They’ve been way better at talking to us lately, but they don’t have to tell us everything. He can still have some privacy! If this is too much—”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” you say. They both flinch. “I can tell you, I just… You’re not going to like it, okay? And that’s going to suck. A lot. So.”

“…I haven’t ‘liked’ any of these, Siffrin,” Odile says. “But there’s still more after this, right? So it’s not the ‘worst’ death?”

“It wasn’t for me.” You can’t look at her. “But from everyone else’s perspective, it… probably looked pretty bad.”

She purses her lips. “Was this another case of you ‘saving time’?”

…You nod.

“And, um…” Isabeau taps his fingers on the table nervously, back and forth, back and forth. “I-If you’re willing to talk about it… How, exactly, would you do that?”

You really don’t want to say it. But you should, you know you should. Because Loop told you to talk to them, and if nothing else, you owe them this.

…Maybe if you all drink enough, they won’t remember this in the morning. There’s probably no chance of that, though; their memories actually work, unlike yours. As if you could ever be so lucky.

You sigh and tilt your head back, exposing your neck. “There’s an artery right here,” you say, tapping the spot. “If you cut it just right, it’s pretty quick. It’s the— the same thing you do when hunting, you know? To give the animal a quick death. It’s meant to be a mercy.” You lower your hand. It’s shaking. You curl it around your glass instead, lifting it to your lips. “I know it was bad. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea. It just… seemed faster, I guess. And I just couldn’t cope with those blinding Tears anymore.”

You take a long drink, letting the alcohol burn down your throat. Your companions are silent. That’s your fault, too.

You set your glass back on the table.

“…Sif…” Isabeau’s hand reaches for yours. You let him take it, his fingers running over your gloved palm.

You’re not looking at her, but you can feel Odile’s eyes on you, sharp as a dagger. You always thought it was strange that she isn’t Piercing type, considering how her gaze always seems to cut straight through you. You suppose paper can cut, too. 

“Siffrin,” she says. Her voice is even. You can’t make out any anger in it, so… good start? “I need you to be honest with me. Please look at me.” Reluctantly, you do. You’re surprised to find in Odile’s eyes, of all things, concern — though perhaps you shouldn’t be. She’s always been kinder than she lets on. “Do you… Hn. Are you… going to be a danger to yourself?”

Your breath hitches. “A danger?”

She folds her hands together. Oh! They’re shaking too, haha! You really are alike. 

“…I know the loops were… extenuating circumstances,” she says. “You were functionally immortal then, so… slitting your own neck… wouldn’t have had the same lasting consequences it usually would. I understand that. And I know you do, too. But please, I need to know—” She looks at you, pleading. “Do you want to die, Siffrin?”

Isabeau’s hand stiffens in yours.

You. Don’t know how to answer that.

But she’s waiting, and she’s worried, and she cares, so you have to answer. You have to say something. Something truthful.

How do you answer?

“…I used to,” you say, finally. “Before I met all of you. A-And during the loops, too, but they were, um. Like you said. Extend— Extenuating circumstances.” Stars, you can’t get your words out properly. You’ll choose to blame that on the alcohol, and ignore the way your entire body is trembling.

You’ve never told anyone this before. That you wanted to die. You don’t remember much from before you met everyone — you barely remember anything before the loops — but you know you used to stare at the stars at night and pray that you wouldn’t wake up in the morning. Because you’d just be alone again, wouldn’t you? Aimless, drifting? You were barely an existence back then. You didn’t have a personality, a home, a reason to keep going. You just… did. So you’d skirt too close to the edges of cliffs, weather storms with nothing but trees for cover, eat food you’d foraged without a care for what it was. Stay in a country being frozen in time with no real reason not to leave. You wouldn’t have admitted it, but you were never really planning to outrun the Curse. You thought it sounded peaceful. An eternal rest.

But then you met everyone.

You’re glad the stars never granted that wish. Maybe they knew, deep down, that it wasn’t what you truly wanted.

It was never really that you wanted to die. You just didn’t want to keep living like that anymore. And then you met Mirabelle and the others, and you weren’t alone anymore, and you had a reason to live, and— and you thought it was going to end. That you’d have to go back to the way things were. Of course you’d do anything to prevent that.

You know better, now.

“…I don’t want to anymore,” you say. You’re sure of it. “I want to live. The future is scary, but I— I actually feel like I have one, now. With all of you. And I don’t… I don’t want to lose that. Not ever.”

You look up at Odile and Isabeau, and place a hand over your chest. “I’m not a danger to myself,” you say firmly. “And if I ever think I will be, I’ll tell you. I— I super duper promise.” You’re not great at keeping promises, but you’ll try. You’ll try with everything you have! That has to be enough. And if it’s not, you trust your family to have your back.

You’re not a hundred percent better. You probably never will be. That Sadness will always stay with you, but things are better now. You’re not alone anymore. That counts for a lot, you think.

Odile studies your face for a bit, then breathes out in relief. “Okay,” she says. “I… I believe you, for now. But we will be talking about this again once we’re sober,” she warns, dead serious. “I— We all care for you very much, Siffrin. So if you ever feel like that again, you have to tell us, so we can help you through it. Okay?”

You nod. You’ll try. 

Isabeau squeezes your hand. “Thanks for telling us, Sif. I bet it was hard.” His eyebrows draw together. “And, uh, for what it’s worth… you’re not alone. In having felt like that. It’s been a while for me, and it probably wasn’t as bad as yours, but, um… I get it. I’ve, uh, been there, a long time ago, and it’s not… great. So I’m glad you’re here.” He smiles at you warmly.

Oh. So even Isa…? Huh. 

You never knew.

You squeeze his hand back. “I’m glad you’re here too, Isa,” you murmur. “And thank you for telling us, as well. I’m— I’m not happy you went through that, but. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one, I guess?”

“Of course you’re not the only one. Suicidal thoughts aren’t as uncommon as you’d think,” Odile says. “It’s not something to be ashamed of, it’s just… difficult for a lot of people to talk about, so it’s harder to see. But they are something to address before it becomes a serious risk.” She looks you in the eye. You make a valiant effort not to avert your gaze. “I’ll say it again tomorrow when we’re back to being real functioning adults, but just remember that for now. You aren’t alone. You’ll be okay.”

“Cheers to that,” Isa says, raising his glass. “To not killing ourselves?”

“Isabeau,” she scolds.

You laugh. “To not killing ourselves!” you cheer, and clink your glass into his.

Odile sighs and raises her glass, too. “Fine. To not killing ourselves, I suppose. Gems alive.”

“We’ll try to keep them that way,” Isa nods sagely.

Your glasses all clink together, and then you drink.

You all sit there quietly for a few minutes, letting the beverages settle in your stomach. Even though none of you are speaking, it doesn’t feel awkward. Isa strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, and you close your eye for a little bit, letting the sounds of the bar around you pass over you. It’s noisy in here, but in a nice, distant way, like the three of you are in your own little bubble away from everyone else.

You’re sleepy… Alcohol makes talking easier, but it also makes you tired. Probably why it’s not the recommended method for therapy… and lots of other reasons, you guess, but you don’t care right now. Desperate measures, and all that. A little social drinking never hurt anyone.

That’s probably not true, but logic is for sober people.

Alas, the peaceful moment comes to an end. If it was just Isa, you might’ve been able to put off the rest of the conversation for another night, but you know Odile would never let you off the hook so easily.

She clears her throat. You open your eye to look at her.

“So,” she says. “How many more are there on your list, Siffrin?”

Ugh. Right on cue. She never lets up, does she? Back to it, you guess. 

“Three.” You hold up three fingers. It’s almost a Scissors sign! But not quite. What a shame. “That was the last of the, um, intentional ones, though. Everything else is just… stuff that happened to me.”

“I see…” She nods slowly. “I assume the times you died on purpose aren’t the highest because it was within your control?”

You nod! Yes, yes, that’s exactly it! She gets it! As awful as those deaths were — you still can’t stomach the smell of bananas, and you don’t think you’ll ever forget how it felt the first time you split your neck open — at least you chose them. You knew what you were getting into, in a twisted way. You could anticipate it, pretend it was in the stage directions.

You wonder what this says about you.

“I guess that makes enough sense…” At least she can understand your reasoning. You’re relieved. Maybe you’re not as much of a lost cause as you’d thought. “Which type of death gets the bronze medal, then?” she asks.

“Oh? I thought you didn’t like thinking of it that way, M’dame,” Isa says.

“I got over it.” She shrugs. “Besides, we’re getting to the ‘worst’ ones now. I’d much rather think of them that way than as the ‘best’.”

You don’t really get the difference, but whatever. You glance at your list.

Ah, right. This one.

“Uh, being killed by a Sadness,” you say. “It only happened a couple times, but it was… Um. Not fun.”

Isabeau winces. “Oh yikes… Change, that must’ve hurt. We didn’t see that many Sadnesses when we went up the House, ’cause I guess you cleared most of them out? But the ones we did see looked really strong!”

You circle the rim of your glass, round and around and around. “At the start, before I got stronger from all the loops, yeah, they were pretty hard to beat… But it still shouldn’t have been a problem. We were all together, so— if I wasn’t looping, and I didn’t manage to die to all the traps and stuff, I think we would’ve been fine? With fighting the Sadnesses?” You make a face. “I just got sloppy. Like I said, it only happened a couple times, and I always made sure to take it out before I died so it wouldn’t get the rest of you—”

Odile takes off her glasses and pinches her brow. You pause.

“…Did I say something wrong?”

“No. It’s fine.” She sounds weary. You think she’s probably lying, but you can’t tell why. “We can unpack that later. Keep going.”

…? 

Well, okay… but what else is there to say, really?

“Um, that’s kind of it for this one…?” you say. “I wasn’t paying enough attention, so I died, then I started again. And eventually I got strong enough that it didn’t matter anymore.”

“Hmm…” She studies your face. You feel like a bug under a microscope. “All right,” she decides, evidently satisfied. “Sounds pretty straightforward, then. Next.”

Isa blinks. “Wait, just like that?“

“What more is there to talk about?” Hey, that was your question! “Sounds like it was unpleasant, an accident, and rare. That’s all I needed to know.” She takes another drink. “So. Next.”

Yeah, you’re keen to move on too. You’re almost done with the list! Just two more to go!

Though, speaking of…

“This next one’s weird,” you say. How do you describe it? Thinking is so hard. You’re so sleepy. “Um, you know that island north of here? The one no one can remember?”

“Yeah!” Isa smiles at you. “The place you’re from, right?”

Oh, you forgot you told them about that. Haha… forgetting. It always comes back to that, doesn’t it? You’ve gotten better at holding information about it in your head since the loops, but plenty still manages to slip through the cracks. Your brain has a lot of cracks for memories to slip through, after all.

“Right,” you say. “The King was from there too. S’why he wanted to freeze Vaugarde, so the same thing that happened to our country couldn’t happen here.”

“We know, yes,” Odile says. Ah… you forgot you told them about that, too. “What does this have to do with you dying?”

“I’m getting to that!” you snap, and then immediately feel terrible when she recoils. You can’t yell at your friends! You’ve done more than enough of that already. 

Stars above, you can’t wait for this to be over. 

“I mean— it’s related to that,” you correct yourself, hopefully keeping your tone in check. You can’t quite tell if you manage it or not. “Because, in some loops, before I knew what kind of person the King really was, I tried to… talk to him? About it? About lots of things, like why he was freezing Vaugarde, and about Time Craft and stuff, but also about that.” 

You stare at your glass, watching the liquid glisten in the light. Isa and Odile are silent, letting you continue. 

“This one time, I… I asked him where he was from. Even though I already knew. Every loop he’d ask me, ‘Do you remember?’ ‘Do you remember?’” Without realising, your hand reaches up to touch your throat. It burns at the memory. “…He thought, if we both said its name together, we could bring it back. So we tried. I tried.” You clench your eye shut. “It didn’t work. I couldn’t say it. I… couldn’t say it.”

It’s quiet for a moment. You hear the clinking of glasses and dishware echoing throughout the room, the distant chatter of voices, but they’re not the ones that matter.

You wonder what they must be thinking. A voice in the back of your head still asks: What kind of person can’t even say their country’s name?

“…So, wait, hold up.” Isabeau. You don’t look up at him. “You tried to say the name of your country? And it… killed you?”

“Mm.” You nod, your eye still squeezed shut. “Coughed up blood the first time I tried. Still tried a second time. It was stupid. Killed me.” You breathe in, and out. Calm down, Siffrin. You already had your moment with the dagger one, you can be normal about this. “That’s when I saw that shade for the first time. You know, the— the one in the sky, at the end?”

“Ah, right. The ‘colour’?” Odile, this time.

“Yeah. We found a book in the House about it once. People see it when something ‘breaks’.” Hesitantly, you open your eye again. Isabeau’s making that sad, someone-beat-up-a-puppy face you’d been trying to avoid, but Odile just looks curious. That’s preferable, you think. “I don’t know for sure, but I think it’s related to Wish Craft,” you say. “Like… trying to say the name goes against whatever wish made it disappear? I don’t know, I just… It was stupid, trying to say it. It’s gone. It’s never coming back.”

“Oh, Sif…” Isa sniffles. “That— That’s so sad!”

Ah, so he’s gotten to that level of drunk. You might need more tissues soon.

Odile shakes her head. “You’re not stupid, Siffrin, you’re homesick.” You flinch a bit at the word. For better or for worse, you’re painfully aware of that, now. “It’s— I understand, to a degree, from my own experiences, but… I can’t even imagine what it must be like.”

“Bad,” you offer. She snorts.

Her eyes drift to Isa. “…Isabeau, stop crying. You’re not the one who—”

“I can’t help it!” he sobs dramatically. “I’m an empath!!!”

“You’re not being empathetic, you’re just being regular pathetic.”

Oh! “Odile, was that another pun?”

“What? No, I—” She jolts suddenly. “…Oh gems. It was, wasn’t it?”

“It was!” You grin. To your side, Isa’s sniffles have turned into tears of laughter.

She shakes her head, failing to hold back a smile. “I can’t believe this. You’ve infected me.”

“Admit it! Admit you love puns.”

“I will do no such thing.”

“You loooove puns and you think they’re soooo funny,” you drawl.

With great effort, she manages to school her expression back into something approximating seriousness. “Stop that. We’re getting distracted again.”

Killjoy. You like being distracted.

“Oh!” Isa perks up. “Actually, there’s only one left, isn’t there? So the last one must be…”

That’s right. You gave it away earlier, didn’t you? 

“Yep,” you say. “The King. Ta-da.” You fling your list onto the table, face-up for them to see, and make jazz hands. “That’s it. The worst death.”

“Ah,” Odile says, deadpan. “Yahoo.”

Isabeau splutters. “M’DAME?!”

“What?”

“What kind of response is that?!”

She scoffs. “Oh, so when Siffrin copes with humour it’s fine, but when I do it it’s a problem?”

“It’s different!” he insists. “You’re not funny like they are. It doesn’t work.”

So he does still think you’re funny! You thank the stars yet again. Maybe this night hasn’t been a total disaster after all.

“Wow. So rude,” Odile says, rolling her eyes. “Didn’t anyone tell you to respect your elders?”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, M’dame, but it’s true. Can’t argue with facts.”

“You’re biased.”

“Maybe!” he admits, crossing his arms over his chest. “So what if I am!” 

Ha, he’s blushing! You know exactly what to do in this situation.

“No, she’s right,” you say very seriously. “Yahoo.”

“Yahoo,” Odile echoes.

“Yahoo.”

Isa grumbles half-heartedly. “…I really wanna yahoo with you guys but I’m too stubborn to give up,” he says. “SUBJECT CHANGE!!! Sif, talk about how the King sucked!”

Noooo! Anything but that! And you were having so much fun, too.

“Uuuuugh,” you groan. “He killed us, Isa! Multiple times!” Are you being too loud? You don’t care. You take a swig of your drink for morale, and then set it back down again a little too quickly. “Even— Even after we got Mira’s shield, sometimes he was still too strong, or I’d mess up the timing and tell Mira to deploy the shield at the wrong time, and he killed us! And it wasn’t fast!” you add. “It took so long to die! It hurt! It hurt like, like—”

“Like crab?” he suggests.

“Like crab!!!”

“Aw Change, Sif, I’m sorry.”

No! The sad puppy face is back! You thought you’d distracted him, but now you’ve just made him sad again. The King might’ve been good at killing you, but it seems you’re even better at killing the mood.

“Don’t be,” you say, tucking your chin into your cloak. “Wasn’t your fault. We all died, I’m just the one who got to remember it.”

“But…”

Distantly, a part of you is desperate to stop talking, but you ignore it. They wanted to know. You’re so close to being done, now. How bad could it be?

“Dying wasn’t even the worst part,” you say. “It was… seeing the rest of you die, too. Bonnie always managed to escape—” Except for that one time!!! You will never forget it!!! “—but the rest of you… I hated it. I hated it! I never want to see any of you die ever, ever, ever again. Even I have to die a thousand more times to prevent it.”

Isa hunches his shoulders. “I’d, um, rather you didn’t?”

“Siffrin, for the love of… We don’t want you to die for us,” Odile says. “Stop trying to be a martyr, it’s depressing.”

“I’m not trying to be!” Well, maybe you are a bit, but that’s not the point. “I knew I’d come back! I only ever asked him to kill me first because it would be faster!”

“You—?!”

Ah. You never told them about that part, did you? Whoops.

“Of course. Of course you did, you shattering— No. I’m too drunk for this. Gems.” She lets out a long, weary sigh. “It’s… fine. You were in a time loop. Nothing was permanent. We’ll deal with it later.”

Deal with what?! You’re dealing with plenty already!

Isa frowns. “Sif… When you asked him to kill you first, was it only in the loops when he’d already defeated us? When we were all already dying?”

“Yes!!!” Stars, you’re tired. “I was just asking him to finish it!” 

They have no blinding idea how much it hurt to be killed like that. They’ll never know, because they’ll never remember — because you made sure it never happened to them, not really. Not in the reality that exists now.

But you know! You remember! You will always remember! And you will always, always, always make sure that they’ll never have to feel that kind of pain. Never again.

You don’t care what it takes. You don’t care what they have to say about it. Whether it’s an eye or your life or your sanity, you’d throw it all away in a heartbeat to keep them safe.

What kind of person does that make you?

“…Then it’s the King’s fault, isn’t it?” he says, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

Wait, what? “Huh?”

“It was the King,” Isa explains. “Like… it doesn’t matter if you asked him to kill you first or whatever if we were all gonna die anyway. He’s the one that was killing us! Killing you! And, and attacking Vaugarde! So it’s all his fault, no one else’s.”

“But I…”

“Nope! No buts, not allowed! It wouldn’t matter if the King just didn’t kill us in the first place.” He looks pleased with himself, as if it were so simple. But it isn’t! It obviously isn’t! 

Odile seems to agree with him, though, because she smiles in that smug, subtle way she always does before teasing you. “You’re right, Isabeau,” she says. “It is the King’s fault. How hard is it to not kill people?”

“Yeah! Like, is he stupid or what?”

Ugh. You don’t think you can argue with this one. And you don’t really want to, either? You can barely even remember the point you were trying to make.

“Maybe you’re right,” you allow. “It is pretty easy to not kill people… I mean, I don’t kill people every day.”

Odile nods. “Exactly. Skill issue.”

“And he couldn’t even make it quick!” you add in mock offense. “That’s just sloppy.”

Isa huffs, resting his chin on his hand. “Stupid crabhole… I’m glad he’s frozen in time forever.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Odile says, sipping her drink. “I would’ve loved to see him die a more violent death.”

“Yeah! So true, M’dame!”

“We did kill him for real every other time,” you tell her. “Mira always got the final blow on him… Made him disappear, like pchoooo. It was satisfying!”

“Woah… Mira’s so cool…”

“She is!” You love Mira. You miss her. She’s only upstairs, but you haven’t seen her in hours!

“But did he suffer?” Odile prods.

“Oh yeah, he sobbed like a baby.”

“Perfect,” she says, smiling. “Now I just hope he suffers for eternity.”

“Me too…” But he isn’t suffering, you know this. He got to remember your country in the end. He’ll get to hold onto it forever, now. In a way, it’s the best thing that could’ve ever happened to him.

You try not to feel bitter about it.

“But Sif, Sif!” Isa sits upright, stars in his eyes. “You know what that means?”

“What?”

“You made it!” He beams at you. “Yeah, you died a bunch of times, and yeah, you went through all that awful stuff, but you survived! You got through it! And now you’re here, with us!!!”

Oh! He’s right! You did survive! You’re here, with them!

You…

You’re here, with me.

…Ah. 

A part of you isn’t, though. There’s a version of you still stuck under that tree in Dormont, all alone, waiting for their happy ending. They never made it out like you did.

But that’s not how their story ends, is it? They promised. Their coin still sits in your pocket as proof.

You’ll see each other again. Until that day arrives, you have to keep on living.

“…I am!” You smile. It comes easy, naturally; you hardly even notice you’re doing it. “We made it!”

“We all did, didn’t we?” She looks relieved. It’s rare that you get to see her smiling this openly, without any irony or distance.

“CRAB YEAH!!!” Isa cheers.

You laugh. You made it! You really made it! You’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive! You lived to see another day, and another day actually came! And you get to spend it with these people you love, and who love you!

You thank the stars. You thank the Universe. You thank your wish, clumsy as it was, for keeping you safe, for letting you stay with everyone. And you thank Loop, too, wherever they are. Without them, you never would’ve made it.

But you did. You’re alive. Even after everything, you’re alive.

You still can’t believe it’s real.

“Congrats, Siffrin,” Odile says. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

And with that, every ounce of energy in your body leaves you. You slump face-down on the table. “It was awful I’m never doing this again.”

“HA!”

“But do you feel better about it?” Isa asks.

Do you? You take a moment to think about it. You don’t feel all that different, but your chest feels a little lighter, you think.

“…I do, yeah,” you admit.

“Then it worked! Alcohol win!”

“Isabeau, you can’t say that, they’ll think we’re alcoholics,” Odile says.

“Pshhh, and?”

“And if they think we’re alcoholics, they won’t let me buy more vodka. And then I’ll have to kill you.”

“Me?!”

“Yep.”

“Noooo!”

You can’t help but chuckle. Your head’s still so heavy, but you bring your arms up on the table and rest your chin atop it so that you can see them better. 

“Being murdered by Odile wouldn’t be too bad,” you offer. “I’d probably rank it just a little less good than the pineapple.”

“Siffrin, if you don’t stop saying you enjoyed the pineapple death, you will be next.”

Ah… “Yes Odile sorry Odile.”

And with that, the night goes on.

You laugh. You drink. Your memory of the rest is hazy as you float in and out of the conversation, content to let Isa and Odile do most of the talking. You did your part already! And you just like hearing their voices.

You’re tired. You’re happy. You’re warm. These feelings carry you into the night as you’re surrounded by your friends, knowing that you’re loved.

You will definitely regret this in the morning.

⋆ ✧ ⋆

You’re still hungover when you wake the next day, vague memories of someone holding back your hair flitting through your mind. Ugh. Your stomach still churns at the thought, but at least you’re pretty sure it’s empty now.

There’s a shuffling sound in front of you. You crack your eye open, wincing at the light that filters in through the window, and find Mirabelle standing next to the bed, placing a glass on the nightstand beside you.

Oh! Water! Water for you! Yes! You need that. She’s so smart.

Your mouth is dry, but you will it to move anyway. “Mmm… Mira…?”

She jumps. “Oh! Siffrin!” she says, hushed in a half-whisper. It’s still loud enough to send a spike of pain through your head. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

A little, but you don’t mind. You stick an arm out of your blanket cocoon and make grabby hands. “Water…”

“Hm. What’s the magic word?”

“Pleeeeease,” you say, as sweetly as you can manage.

Mira giggles. “All right, sit up a bit so you don’t choke. Here you go!”

You push yourself up against the pillows as she hands you the glass. You drink it as fast as you can, spilling a little on the blankets, but you don’t really care. Water is so good. It’s gone all too soon, but once you’re done Mira places a hand against your forehead and channels some Healing Craft into it, soothing the pounding in your head just a bit. A worthy trade, you think.

You lower yourself back down into the bed. It helps a little with the dizziness, but your head still spins. After a moment, Mira sits on the edge of the bed next to you, careful not to jostle you too much.

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

You groan dramatically, covering your eye with your arm. “This is worse than dying,” you say. “Put me out of my misery.”

“Ah… That bad, huh…”

“Mira.” You drop your arm and look up at her seriously. “Never drink alcohol. It’s bad.”

She stifles a giggle behind her hand. Betrayal! “Thank you for your wise advice, Siffrin. I’ll, um, keep it in mind. But did it go okay?”

“…It did,” you admit.

“Do you think you’ll be able to talk to me about it later? Without the liquor, this time?”

Well, you’re never drinking liquor again, so that part’s a given. But as for the rest of it?

“Yeah,” you say truthfully. “I— I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I can ask for!” She smiles and pats your head. Feels nice… “I’ll leave you to it, then. You can sleep a little longer — you look like you need it.”

“Uuuughhh… Love you, Mira.” 

Wait. You didn’t mean to say that out loud. But before you can regret it—

“Hehe, I love you too!” she says. Oh!!! She leans forward and kisses your forehead. “Get some rest, Siffrin. You’ve earned it.”

And with that, she stands, and leaves you be.

You close your eye.

…You can’t quite remember everything that happened last night, but the broad strokes remain: You drank. You talked. You were honest about things you never thought you’d speak to anyone about, and they didn’t even leave you for it.

You talked about your deaths. Actually talked about them, in detail. You ranked them in a blinding list, for the Universe’s sake! Was that your idea? It probably was. Why did you ever think that would go well? Isa and Odile didn’t like them, which means Mira really won’t like them, but… you hope it’ll be easier, now that you’ve already gone over it once. They’d made it clear, so clear that you can still remember it despite the alcohol and your eternal self-doubt, that they only didn’t like hearing about it because they love you.

They love you! They love you! They love you!!! You’re still getting used to that. You don’t know if you ever truly will, but it’s starting to feel real, now. At least, as real as anything else.

…Are you still drunk? You might be. You can’t remember how much you drank last night, and it’s impossible to tell if that’s a side effect of the alcohol or just your generally broken brain. Maybe both.

It doesn’t matter. You’ll just sleep it off. There’s no hurry — no King to beat, no country in need of saving, no end to rush towards. Your loved ones aren’t leaving you, and that won’t change if you take a break for a little while.

You snuggle down into your blankets and breathe, in and out. Your heart beats steadily in your chest. Your head hurts, your stomach churns, and you might still need to puke later because apparently your actions have consequences, but…

You’re here. You made it. You’re alive.

You wouldn’t trade it for the world.