Ariana
A movie never felt so boring before. Gyudon never tasted so salty before. And the moonlight never looked so annoying before.
Why am I acting like this?
The canvas in front of me fills with patterns I don't care to recognize. The brush is stroking on it, dipping into color, then again stroking on it. A rhythm I don't understand fully but somehow it puts my heart at ease.
Both my palms have been coated with paint. Orange, white, brown, black, yellow. Patches of colors have stained the marble beneath. I stare at my hands.
The wind blows past my dimly lit room. The pink walls have turned purple in the darkness. The brushes rattle on the floor, rolling and crinkling. Then my eyes fall onto the painting I created unconsciously.
A face. It's so familiar.
And when the haze drifts away from me; my heart leaps and my stomach takes a violent churn. I clutch the hem of my top.
Why? Why did I draw him?
I tilt my head backwards and stare at the ceiling. There's a sky painted by me. Every wall in my room has something painted on it. But why do I feel terrified to look at the painting I did just now?
The scene at the courtyard plays in my head again. This time, I let it play. The way Anna and Nathan were standing. They were… so close.
Aargh!
I slap myself. This isn't what it looked like! I know that. They're both like siblings! If someone gets to know my inner thoughts, they'd definitely think that I'm jealous. But I'm not.
What I felt at that time, seeing them, wasn't jealousy. I just felt… anoutsider. Like I didn't belong to their world. I sound selfish. They've never felt about me in that way. But recently, each time I look at him, I feel like there's a borderline between our worlds which I shouldn't cross.
***
I place the canvas on the bookshelf and lay down on my bed. Apologizing to no one in particular for my stupid thoughts.
I close my eyes to fall asleep. And Nathan, painted on my canvas, stares at the dark room with a dimpled smile.
###
Nathan
I'm dreaming again.
I know I'm dreaming because the forest is too quiet.
The trees stand tall and dark around me, their branches knitting together above like ribs. The ground beneath my feet is uneven, damp with moss and fallen leaves. Every sound feels swallowed; like the woods are holding their breath.
"Nathan."
Her voice threads through the silence.
My chest tightens instantly. I turn. My heart is already breaking.
She's standing a few steps away, framed by the trees, moonlight catching in her hair in a way that doesn't belong here. Her face is familiar enough to make my throat burn.
"You came," she says softly.
"I always do," I answer. Too quickly, like the words were waiting in my tongue for ages.
She looks tired. Not weak. Just… worn and thin. Like she's been waiting for a very long time.
She smiles and whispers, "Take me with you," Behind her, the ground seems to slopping away slowly. The sky is coming closer.
The space between us feels heavier than distance. Like something is pressing down on my chest from the inside.
"I can't," I say, even as my feet move closer. "You know I can't."
Her blue eyes flicker with—no, not anger. It's hurt.
"You said you would," she murmurs. "You promised."
Something pulses behind my eyes. Sharp and insistent. Images flash too fast to grasp: hands intertwined, laughter echoing through trees, her voice saying my name like it means home. My head aches. Sharp and sudden, like I've thought the same thought too many times.
"I tried," I say, breathing unevenly. "I swear I tried."
She steps back. The edge is right there now.
The air tightens.
"Then try again," she says gently. "I'm right here. You just have to want me enough."
My heartbeat stumbles. "I do." I whisper. Panic coating my voice. "I want—"
Suddenly the forest tilts. My heart slams against my ribs as the ground beneath her crumbles slightly. She doesn't look afraid. She never does.
"You hear me, don't you?" she asks quietly. "Even when you're awake."
The pressure builds. Not pain, not fear. Just weight, settling into my thoughts like it belongs there.
"Don't leave me," she whispers again.
My mouth opens. I don't know what I'm about to say.
The ground gives way and she fall—
***
I wake up choking.
My body jerks upright, lungs burning as if I've been running.. or falling. My sheets are twisted around my legs, damp with sweat. My heart is pounding so hard it hurts, each beat loud and erratic, refusing to slow.
"NO— no—" I gasp, dragging in air. "Wait—" My hands fumble blindly, reaching for something that isn't there.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Don't think about it. Don't see it again.
A voice echoes anyway. Distant, breaking, begging.
"Take me with you."
I sit up so suddenly the room spins. "No," I breathe. "I'm not—"
My hand flies to the bedside table, fingers scrambling until they find my phone. The screen lights up, too bright, but I don't lower it. I don't even think. There's only one name in my head right now who could hear me out. Who could understand me.
Anna
I don't think about the time. I don't think about whether I should. I just dial it.
The ringing feels unbearably loud in the silence. Each tone lands straight in my skull.
Come on! Please!
The call connects.
"I had it again," I blurted out before she could even speak. My voice cracks immediately. "The nightmare and Miaomi!... I woke up and I-I'm not okay! I can't breathe properly and I'm scared and I don't—"
My breath stutters. I suck in air too fast, lungs burning, vision blurring at the edges.
"I don't know what's wrong with me, Anna!" I gasp. "I hate this, I hate sleeping, I—"
"Nathan?"
The voice is quiet. Tentative. Almost afraid to break me.
I freeze.
That's not—
My mouth goes dry. "…Ariana?" I whisper, barely audible.
There's a pause. Just long enough for my heart to trip over itself.
"Yes," she says softly. "It's me. You-you called me."
I pull the phone a fraction away from my ear and stare at the screen like it might correct itself.
I swallow. Hard.
"I thought…" My voice trails off. I don't finish the sentence. It doesn't seem right to.
I go quiet. For a second, I consider hanging up. Apologizing. Pretending this didn't just happen.
But Aria speaks again before I can.
"It's okay," she says, gently. Like she's right here. Like she's sitting at the edge of my bed instead of miles away. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. But I'm here. With you."
Something in my chest loosens. Just a little. And I feel alive again.
"I hate nights," I admit quietly. "I hate that my head won't shut up. I hate feeling like this." I pause. "I hate being scared."
She doesn't interrupt. Doesn't rush to fix it. "That sounds exhausting," she says softly. "Anyone would be tired carrying that alone."
Alone.
The word hits something tender.
"I don't want to sleep anymore," I confess. "But I don't want to be awake either."
There's a small sound on the other end. Like a slow intake of breathe. Something warm.
"Then stay here," she says. "I'm here too."
So I do. We talk. Not about the nightmare. Sometimes about nothing at all. Sometimes about stupid things. Sometimes about how quiet the world feels before sunrise. Her voice stays steady, gentle, like it knows exactly how much space to give me.
***
Time slips. I only realize how much when pale light creeps across my wall, spilling through the window and brushing the edge of my bed.
I blink.
"Aria!" I say, surprised. "It's morning."
She hums softly. "Hm? Is it?"
I glance outside again, then laugh under my breath; tired and real. "We talked all night."
There's a pause.
Then she says, almost shyly, "Time's never enough with you."
The words hang between us.
Neither of us says anything for a second.
"I—I should get ready for school," she adds quickly, like she's embarrassed she said it at all. "I'll see you later, okay?"
"Yeah," I say. "Yeah. Thanks, Ari."
The call ends. And the room is quiet again.
But it doesn't feel empty.
I sit there for a long moment, phone resting in my palm, something unfamiliar settling in my chest.
I felt… comfortable. In a way I never have with Anna. Not worse or better. Just different. Softer. Real.
I smile before I can stop myself.
Then groan and lightly slap my own cheek when Aria's face pops into my mind.
"Get it together," I mutter.
But the smile stays as I swing my legs off the bed and stand.
Only then do I realize—
My head doesn't hurt.
It's been hurting for quiet a few days. But for the first time in days, the ache is gone.
And that thought follows me as the morning fully arrives.