Sixteen days left. Serim had managed to get them an opening slot for a band she t at the festival, and it aligned perfectly with the last Friday before the end of the self-imposed deadline. Obviously, finding out about Dema’s circumstances turned what was a foregone conclusion into an actual choice Theora had to make.
Dema was sick. At the sa ti, the world was sick, because Theora and Dema were in it.
Dema and Theora had chosen this world together, entering through a portal that led them wherever they wanted to go. Both she and Dema wanted to go sowhere they could be happy. And the portal had led them just there; a place where, even if just for a while, they were happy.
This, along with the explanation of Lostina, had made sense to Theora at the ti, but after hearing from Isobel, it didn’t quite work out. It felt like she was still missing sothing. Why, out of all the places where they could have gone, did it have to be one that would make Dema sick?
Sure, they had been happy for a while, but the fact that this happiness was on a tir gave rise to a sour aftertaste. Perhaps she’d misunderstood the purpose of the portal? But even then, what other effect could it have that explained things equally well, or better?
Theora didn’t want to spend all her ti brooding in sadness, so she tried her best to shove that little question into the back of her mind, and enjoy band practice instead.
The band t up again and again, to really finetune their performance. Every ti they rehearsed the pause during which Theora would tune the instrunts, Dema told a completely new story; like she was filled to the brim with them. And every ti, Theora finished tuning both her and Dema’s instrunts the very mont Dema spoke the last sentence of her story.
Like they were in perfect sync.
Later that evening, Theora returned from a shower, finding Dema lying on the sofa listlessly. It was a common sight these past few days; perhaps Dema was overworking herself, or it was that illness, or maybe she was sad about their upcoming ending. There was only one way for Theora to find out, and so she went into the kitchen to pour so tea, returned with it to kneel next to Dema, and patted her head.
She asked, “Are you not feeling well?”
Dema sighed. “Nah… it’s just…” She shrugged. “Bad thoughts.”
“What thoughts?”
Dema pushed herself up and accepted the tea. The first sip made her close her eyes and pull her legs toward her chest. She patted the space next to her, gesturing to Theora to sit down.
“I realised sothing,” she said, her voice low. “When we talked to that girl.”
“Her na is Pashka,” they had eventually found out.
“Yeah.” Dema leaned back. “Pashka.”
“What did you realise?”
Dema looked miserable. She scrunched up her face in displeasure, and then gave another, weaker shrug. “Can’t talk about it. Sorry.”
Theora gave a careful nod. “So… it’s about a sche?”
That finally got Dema to smile. The smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, but that seed to result from her exhaustion more than anything. “Could say that.” The smile turned into a bit of a grin. “That’s right, I’m scheming!” The smile waned. “Rember that letter I was writing a while ago? In that shed?”
Theora nodded.
“Well.” Dema rested the cup on one of her knees. “It’s about that. It’s just… So things you can only say once. And you don’t get another chance. Or, like…” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “So things you should only say once, or they lose aning.”
Theora frowned. “I will rember what you wrote”
“Why, yes,” Dema said. “But that’s only if you actually read it.”
“Why would I not read it?”
“Dunno. Maybe you decide not to.”
Theora shook her head. “I will read it. And I will rember what it says.”
“Begging you not to make that promise right now. Decide when the ti cos, will you?”
What reason could there possibly be not to?
“Is there any other way to cheer you up?” Theora tried, and the question alone did manage to brighten Dema up a little.
“Why, yeah.” She got up and rummaged in one of her bags, producing a little notepad; possibly the sa she’d used back when they investigated Amanda Dupont’s disappearance. She flipped it open and searched for a peculiar page, then showed it off. It was a list. “Wanna help strike things off?”
“Finding a four leaf clover… done!” Dema said, scratching off another item. Her finger was holding the plant delicately, never actually plucking it from the grass. They smiled at each other.
Dema had asked Theora to take ti off to do this.
– Look directly at the sun
– Watch the stars with my crush
– Sleep outside without a tent
These were so of the easier ones; although Theora had begged Dema not to do the sun one, only for Dema to stare at her for a few seconds and then scratch it off. The more difficult items included things like ‘visiting the deepest spot in the ocean’ and ‘bathing in lava’ which were, admittedly, more tricky to actually accomplish.
There was one item that Theora really disliked, though. She’d caught glimpses of it a few tis, and it tied a knot in her stomach to even think about what it might an.
Finally, she got herself to ask.
“What is this list for?”
“Well, it’s a list of stuff I wanna do,” Dema offered, making it sound as if stating the obvious — and, well, she kind of was.
“Like… things you haven’t been able to do before?” Theora probed further. “You said going to parties was easier now that I could ‘carry you when you lose strength’. Like that?”
Dema looked a bit bashful. “Yeah, kinda? Like that, I guess.” She got up, looking back into the grass at the four leaf clover. “They say those make us lucky.”
Theora had never understood that logic. “Rather, doesn’t it an we had luck, which was consud when we found it?”
Dema’s expression turned so innocently baffled. “But it took us two hours?”
Oh. Right. Theora laughed. “That’s true. So in other words, we now stored up two hours of luck in that clover.”
With a smug grin, Dema booped Theora’s nose. “I think that’s not how this works at all.” She thought about it for a second. “But if it is, good thing we did it before finishing our list.”
They went off to the store next to buy groceries, and then returned ho to make dinner. Dema put the shopping bag on the kitchen table, and pulled out a jar of pickled red cabbage. She just put it aside.
Theora sighed. “You have to hand it to .”
Dema turned her head. “I an, yeah, obviously. You’re amazing.”
“What?”
Dema blinked. “What?”
Theora nodded to the table. “I ant the jar.”
With a confused turn of her head, Dema reached out, and then offered it to Theora with a questioning expression.
“Are you ssing with right now?” Theora asked, and took the jar, reluctantly. “Why are you so confused? It’s on your list.”
“Oh, right!” Dema let out. “‘Have my girlfriend open a jar for .’ Completely forgot about that one.”
“How did you forget… we literally picked it out for this…” Theora looked at the label. “You like red cabbage?”
Dema shrugged. “No clue. Never got the jar open…”
It turned out, they both liked red cabbage. After dinner, they sat on the couch again, and Dema was busy scratching through what they managed to finish that day.
It was now or never. Theora pointed at one of the remaining items. “What does that one an?”
It simply said, ‘break up’.
“Oh…” Dema bit her lip. “Why, you know how in romance stories it really breaks your entire heart when it doesn’t work out between the characters? Like… that always totally gets . Makes miserable for a week straight. Always wondered what that would feel like in real life.”
“You… want to break up?” The thought alone was already making Theora miserable. “With ?”
Dema smiled. “Why, yeah! And then we can do two items in one go?”
Theora tried not to cry as she asked, “What would be the second item?”
Dema pointed at the one right beneath, which Theora had assud was about costics of so kind. “Make up.”
Oh. “You want to break up and then get back together.” Theora breathed out.
“That’s always the best part in stories,” she said, nodding. “Break-ups are exciting because I know the characters will sohow find a way to make it all work out at the end!” She bead, and then, after a mont, the smile waned. “’Course, not all stories are like that. So few, they never get back together and their romance just ends. Those kinda hurt.”
Theora could imagine. “Please don’t break up with right now. I would cry really bad. Let’s do it so other ti.”
Dema leaned forward and kissed Theora on the cheek. “Sure,” she said as low as a whisper. “Another ti it is. Or maybe never, right? Cause so things never end.”
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