Chapter Text
Gura stares blankly at the chalkboard. The numbers are blending together into blurs and swirls, and she thinks math should be abolished. The teacher drones on and on—what if ninjas burst into this classroom?—about some formula she won’t need—pizza…—or ever use in the future. She lists forward, laying her head in her arms. The afternoon sun is warm and present, blanketing the classroom in a certain drowsiness.
Somebody yawns. The teacher’s writing on the chalkboard, back visible. The rhythmic tapping of chalk against the board is all that’s heard. Gura’s eyes slowly close. Her brain is tucked into bed, night light on and blissfully asleep under two layers of blankets.
Then, someone behind her taps her shoulder. It can only be one person. Opening one eye, she leans back and slightly turns her head, arms crossed.
Amelia’s smirking at her, sticky note in hand. She quietly slaps the note onto Gura’s forehead.
That makes her open both of her eyes. “What the hell, Watson?” she whispers.
“Read it,” Amelia whispers back, a barely concealed grin on her face.
Gura squints at her. She takes the note off her forehead and reads it.
Why don’t ants ever get sick? the note asks.
Because they have little anty-bodies.
Gura wakes up a little. She smiles, grabbing her pencil and some spare paper. “That joke was so lame,” she says.
Amelia lets out a small giggle. “Hit me with your best one.”
The teacher is still writing on the chalkboard. He stops, pacing back and forth. “The class average on the last exams was lower than usual…”
Scribbling furiously, Gura notes down her go-to joke. There’s a competitive gleam in her eye. Once she’s done, she folds it up and throws the note backwards aiming for Amelia’s face.
“Ow!”
Gura turns around, face to face with the other girl’s middle finger.
Amelia puts her hand down and reads the paper.
Why do fish live in saltwater? the note asks. Gura’s smile grows wider, waiting and expectant.
Because pepper makes them sneeze!
Amelia looks Gura straight in the eye.
Gura blinks at her.
“...a 32 percent average is unacceptable. There was help available after school…” The teacher starts growing red in the face, pacing back and forth even faster.
Amelia makes the ugliest face possible to hold in her laughter. “Knock, knock,” she starts.
“Who’s there?”
“Quiet horse.”
“Quiet horse who?”
Amelia leans into Gura’s ear. “Neigh,” she whispers, tone even lower than before. Gura wakes up a little more. She gets a chill down her spine from the close proximity.
“...this is an embarrassment to me and the whole school. I know some students in this class did extremely well, but most of you here did terribly…”
Gura snickers under her breath.
Amelia grins at her, equal parts smug and amused. “Oh, wait! I have another one.” She clears her throat as quietly as possible. “Two fish are in a tank,” she starts.
The teacher has stopped pacing. His head is buried in his hands. “Everything I taught was covered on this exam…”
“One turns to the other and asks…” Amelia can’t stop her smile from growing again. “”How do you drive this thing?””
“...please tell me you guys at least know how to do basic addition questions like…”
Gura snorts. Loudly.
The teacher’s voice is suddenly clear. “Gura, please answer the question.” He’s on the verge of tears. The whole class is looking at her. In the crowd of eyes, Gura spots Kiara’s cheerful smile and Calliope’s deadpan face. Kiara winks at her, giving her a thumbs up.
“Ah,” she says out of surprise. She looks back at Amelia for help. The other girl holds up three fingers.
“Three?” Gura flashes a nervous smile.
His shoulders slump down with exhaustion, despair hanging from his limbs. He drags his feet towards his desk, collapsing onto his chair. “Seven plus seven equals three,” he states, monotone.
Amelia’s floodgates burst open. She breaks out into a cackle, slapping her knee and jabbing Gura repeatedly. There are tears in her eyes from how hard she’s laughing.
Gura wakes up all the way. Her entire face is rose red and she wants to bury herself in a hole. But at the sight of Amelia laughing so openly, she concludes that happiness looks good on her (even if at the expense of Gura’s dignity).
The teacher doesn’t even get mad. All he does is point to the door and say, “Both of you, get out.”
And so, they stand side by side in the hallway, backpacks hanging from their shoulders and matching charms dangling.
“Uh…” Amelia says. “Wanna skip? We have English after this.”
Gura doesn’t even need to say ‘yes’ before she’s running down the hallway towards the exit. “Race ya to the place!”
“What the hell—that’s not fair!” Amelia starts dashing after her, smiling brilliantly.
Their laughter echoes throughout the hallways, the two of them in a golden bubble of their own world.
❣
The sun beats down on Amelia’s back as she pedals as hard as she can, lungs burning with overexertion. Tinkles of laughter sound right behind her. “C’mon, Watson! Is that the fastest you can go?! I’ll overtake you any second now!” Gura says. Amelia can hear the smugness in her voice.
“Well yeah, shortie! If I go any faster I’ll leave you to bite the dust!” Amelia pedals a bit quicker, autumn wind whipping through her hair.
“Hey, no fair! Just ‘cause your legs are a little longer than mine!” Gura complains, laughter spilling from her lips.
“That’s what you get for sleeping late!”
“We literally sleep at the same time!”
The winding roads seem to grow shorter, despite them only being a few kilometres away from their school. Sometimes the sheer number of years they’ve known each other eludes Amelia’s mind. The memories of them on this same road, biking and running and laughing, wash over her like a wave. The very first time they had skipped class together, she and Gura were walking on the sidewalk, laughing uncontrollably like this was an inside joke they had. It was spring back then; the spring where flowers were blooming faster than usual and the baby fat on Gura’s cheeks hadn’t disappeared yet. Amelia had stilled for a moment, simply watching Gura’s delighted expression.
Gura walked forward, a happy bounce in her step. She stopped not too far from Amelia and faced her, arms outstretched upwards as if trying to encompass the whole sky in her arms. “The world is so large! I can’t believe they shove us into classrooms for several hours a day,” she said, toothy grin almost taking up her entire face. “This was the most fun I had in a long time,” she breathed out. “Thank you.” In the wind, the words were almost carried away. But Amelia had hung onto them and kept them close to her heart, because this was Gura.
Amelia smiled at her. “What are you saying thank you for?” She walked towards Gura, reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know where we’ll end up, but you can bet we’ll always be together.”
Gura’s ears burned red at that and a giddy thrill made itself known in Amelia’s chest, one that she didn’t know the name for.
She wonders if Gura can tell her. This feeling that’s been in the background—
“Oi Watson, watch out!” Gura’s panicked voice breaks her trip down memory lane and when her eyes refocus, the only thing she sees is a green post getting bigger and bigger.
“Oh shi—” Fear replaces the adrenaline in her veins, hands seizing the handlebar to try and swerve. Her legs freeze up, and the next thing she knows, there’s a bump on her forehead and the blue sky in her sight. So much for being sappy, she thinks.
Amelia shuts her eyes and stays on the floor, contemplating her life. Dirty concrete be damned—she’s wallowing in her own pity here and nothing will interrupt this sad moment. Then, she hears footsteps coming closer and opens one eye to peek.
“You okay there, Watson?” Gura speaks, worry lacing her voice as she crouches down to inspect Amelia’s injury closely. So close. Too close. Gura’s face casts a shadow over Amelia’s own, shielding her from the sun. Amelia thinks Gura looks goofy with her bangs hanging down, forehead exposed. She reaches up and boops the other girl on the nose.
“Gura, did you know? If you break your bones again and again, they’ll get even stronger.” Her finger is still on Gura’s nose. She drags her finger down to Gura’s lips, lingering there for a moment before she moves to cradle her jaw.
“Please don’t tell me you’re aiming to break everything until you’re invincible,” Gura mutters, eyes softening. She pokes the small bump on Amelia’s forehead, ignoring the hand holding her jaw.
“I’m not saying I will but I’ll get there naturally. Eventually.” Amelia winces, hand letting go to flick Gura’s forehead. “It hurts, so stop poking it!”
“Ain’t you a rude lil shit? I could’ve left you here, y’know?” Gura stands and pats off the dust on her skirt before reaching out her hand for Amelia to take. “Anyways, get up! We don’t have all day and I wanna see the sunset.”
“Aww, that’s so romantic.”
“Shut up.”
Amelia takes her hand and holds it tight, whispering a prayer in the back of her mind. She can only hope that Gura is wishing for the same thing.
(Gura does. She hopes they can be together for a long, long time.)
❣
Gura takes a bite of her blue raspberry popsicle, pedalling slowly now that the race is over. Amelia’s popsicle stick is in her mouth, bobbing up and down along with the slight bumps in the road. They had stopped by the convenience store along the way since there were still a few hours before sunset and the bakery they frequented was closed. The cashier didn’t bat an eye at two ruffled teenagers bursting through the doors during class time debating about horrible animal combinations.
“Imagine if mosquitos and jellyfish combined forces!” Gura exclaimed, waving her arms for emphasis. “Giant flying pests that sting you and then take your blood—double the amount of itchiness!”
Amelia grimaced, walking towards the freezers. “I’d rather die than have to deal with more itchiness during the summer.” She peered down into the frosted glass. Gura copied her.
The freezer was as empty as Antarctica, only housing two wrapped blue raspberry popsicles. They both sighed.
“It’s autumn, right?” Gura asked.
Amelia glanced outside at the trees, leaves golden and red. The wind blowing away the last traces of summer, a certain chilliness that only autumn had.
“Yeah…” Amelia trailed off, sliding open the freezer to grab both popsicles.
They walked to the cashier, hands brushing in the cramped aisle. Paid, then unwrapped their popsicles outside and continued biking to their destination.
Gura’s tongue is stained blue. Once she’s done, she stuffs the stick into her skirt pocket. The sun is lower in the sky than before, not quite touching the horizon. She looks at it, shielding her eyes from its shine. When she was a kid, she had tried to outrun the sun. She ran and ran through the streets, occasionally peeking at it to mark her progress. It stayed diligent in its chase, always right beside her, bright and beautiful. So now, she accepts the fact that the sun won’t go away anytime soon—hopes it won’t ever go away.
Gura looks at Amelia and finds their gazes meeting.
They both hold eye contact for a few seconds before Amelia looks away first. There’s a lump in Gura’s throat. She tries to swallow it down.
“We’re almost there,” Gura says, as if they both haven’t cycled through these roads a thousand times. The familiar trees stand strong against the light wind, a stark contrast to the leaves clinging onto its branches, golden-veined and fleeting. A hint of coldness is in the air, making way for the snow that would soon come.
Gura stops first. She gets off her bike and throws it into the bushes, the leaves concealing it so no one else sees.
Amelia does the same thing, then removes the popsicle stick from her mouth and pockets it. She stretches, mouth wide open in a yawn. “Well,” she starts lazily, rubbing her eyes. “Let’s get hiking.”
Gura hops onto the stairs, advancing two steps at a time. “You owe me a soda if I get to the top first!”
Amelia immediately fires up, a competitive edge in her voice and the earlier slowness gone. “Not everything has to be a race!” She runs after her, grinning and laughing.
Soon, they make it to the dirt path that leads uphill to the scenic overlook of the town. Gura and Amelia are neck and neck, but Amelia powers through and overtakes her. Gura jabs her with her elbow, eliciting a short yelp from the other girl.
A few seconds later, they both make it to the top, shoulders heaving and panting for air.
“Who…who won?” Gura manages to say in between gasps. It feels like someone has poured hot water over her and she mentally notes to never exercise ever again.
Amelia’s hunched over, hands on her knees and trying to get as much oxygen as possible. “Let’s just…“ She straightens up, putting her hands on her hips. “Let’s just call this a tie. We can buy some soda on the way home,” she concludes, smiling triumphantly at Gura like she had won.
Gura narrows her eyes. “Just admit that I beat you with my slightly shorter legs,” she says, ignoring the gazebo in favour of marching over to the fenced part of the mountain.
“Yeah sure, keep tellin’ yourself that.” Amelia trails behind her.
Gura leans on the fence, looking out to their town. Up here where the sun is brightest and the houses are kilometres away, she thinks they’re at the heart of eternity—the two of them secluded in their own world. The sun has finally started its descent, melting gold at the horizon. Its amber strands bathe the two of them in warm light, almost dispelling the chill of the breeze.
Amelia shivers a little, rubbing her arm. Gura notices—she always does. This is Amelia, after all. Amelia who goes quiet sometimes, whose laughter makes her heart ache unbearably, who taught her that tenderness was in the hands. The same Amelia who’s been by her side since day one, unwavering like a mountain.
Gura’s eyes focus on Amelia’s face. The setting sun tinges her blue eyes with flecks of amber, Gura notes.
Shaking her head slightly to snap out of her daydream, she reaches for Amelia’s hand and holds it, grip firm and steady. Her gaze is locked onto a single point in front of her, too embarrassed to face the other girl.
Amelia doesn’t react for a moment, her hand slack in Gura’s grip. Then, she laces their fingers together and squeezes back, equally as firm. “Thank you,” she whispers, something fond in her tone.
Ears reddening, Gura can only look down at her feet and nod.
In front of them, the sky is melting into watercolour hues of red and yellow. The world is slowly sinking into deep indigo and soon the stars will come out, twinkling like individual lights. But all Gura can focus on is the feel of their hands, slotting perfectly into each other.
❣
A grenade explodes nearby, the detonation a cacophony of sounds and light in Amelia’s vision. The force of it knocks her back, sending her sprawling into the dirt. She can only vaguely feel the gun in her hands, solid and the only thing tethering her to this planet. As the seconds tick away, the ringing in her ears subsides a bit. Calliope’s voice, muffled but strong despite the distance between them, calls out from somewhere in the battlefield.
“Watson!” Calliope shouts as she shoots down another enemy. Bullets whizz past her, one cutting her on the cheek.
“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?!” Calliope has finally made it over to where Amelia’s laying. There’s some dirt and guts on her armor but other than that, she’s in one piece.
Amelia is safe at home, fingers working furiously at her keyboard and mouse. “Yeah, I’m fine!” she says into her headset, swiftly recovering from the explosion. Her character jumps up, reloading then gunning down another enemy.
They’re playing HALO: Reach as a training game for Calliope after she expressed interest in trying out FPS games. They played a bit of Apex, CS:GO and PUBG on other days and now this was the game for today. Calliope had tremendously improved within a few hours of experiencing different types of battlegrounds. She went from not knowing the controls for moving to getting more kills than Amelia in a single round.
A Skirmisher shoots at her, bringing Amelia back to action. Muscle memory comes into play as she moves her mouse, aims and shoots.
Headshot.
The Skirmisher falls down and she can only pause for a split second to admire her own godly aim before her health bar takes another hit. More enemies file in by the tens, lasers and bullets and blood a barrage of colours on her screen.
“How is it not over yet?!” Amelia exclaims in slight frustration. They had been defending this zone for fifteen minutes now and the objective at the top wasn’t going away.
“Man, I have no idea,” Calliope replies, chuckling a bit. The tiredness in her tone from the late hour makes the chuckle rougher than intended.
In the midst of the battle, their characters end up backed up against each other, still shooting at the enemies around them.
“Now that I think about it—” Calliope kills a Skirmisher with a swipe of her gun. “I never thanked you for showing me all these FPS games. They’ve helped me de-stress a lot, actually.”
Amelia smiles. “Calli~ You gettin’ all sappy with me? Save that for Kiara!” she says, giggling.
“Be quiet before I shoot you,” Calliope grumbles. Amelia likes to imagine she’s glaring at her computer screen.
Calliope clears her throat. “Anyways, I can see why you like these shootin’ and blastin’ games so much. It’s nice to hack away time with this and, uh, avoid responsibilities,” she stammers out.
Amelia stays silent, only the sound of her mechanical keyboard and mouse clicking. She shoots an enemy down with a headshot. The objective is finally cleared, and they are given a new destination. She sighs, moving away a bit from the computer to stretch.
“Think this is a good place to stop?” Amelia asks, looking back at Discord to see how long they’ve been calling. The call is at three hours and ten seconds. She looks at the time too, since everything passed by so quickly. Too quickly.
2:03 AM, the tiny clock at the corner of her computer screen flashes back to her. The moon is high in the sky, dying her room in melancholic blue. If she squints hard enough at her ceiling, she can imagine the glossy surface of the ocean when she’s underwater, rays of light breaking into individual columns under the sea. It feels like she’s drowning—getting dragged by the ankle into the unknown by something deeper and older than the ancient seabed itself.
“...fun. Thanks for carrying, Watson,” Calliope was saying. Amelia’s back in her room now, eyes suddenly focused.
“Ah—yeah no problem.” Amelia exits out of the game. Their call is still ongoing, seconds ticking into minutes.
Another beat passes.
“Goodnight. See you at school later,” Calliope says, voice crackling through Amelia’s headset like a radio.
“Goodni—”
“Don’t skip.”
And the call ends there. As expected of the student council president, Amelia thinks, slightly amused. She shuts off her computer, sitting there for a minute, staring at the dark screen.
Her phone screen on the table lights up with a message notification. Just one ominous message from Calliope asking, ”Are you sure about this?”
She unlocks the phone, a sigh on the tip of her tongue.
ame: wdym?
calli: You know what I mean. Can’t you talk to them?
The sigh from earlier comes out. She’s been doing that a lot, lately.
ame: i can’t
it’s more complicated than it looks, calli
my whole life has already been planned out
there’s nothing i can do
Calliope’s texting bubble appears. It stays on the screen for a minute, then leaves. A few seconds later, she gets a reply.
calli: Okay.
I still think you should talk to them.
ame: i’ve tried multiple times
idk what to do now
calli: When will you tell her, though?
Amelia’s thumbs hover over the keyboard. The light from her phone screen is far too harsh on this blue night.
What if... the message starts off with.
She pauses. Reads Calliope’s text again and again, hesitance on the tips of her fingers. Backspacing, she writes out a weak response. Better than nothing.
ame: what
calli: Both? About you know… feelings? and the other thing.
ame: ummmm
soon hopefully
what about u tho?? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
calli: 💀🖕🖕🖕🖕🔪
calli has gone offline.
Amelia blinks at her phone screen. Did Calliope really bail out on her like that? After she was the one who messaged her first? She snorts, throwing her phone backwards onto her bed. It bounces towards the edge, almost falling to the floor.
Yawning, she follows suit and flops onto the bed face first. She turns her head to the side to peek out the window. Gura’s window has the curtains drawn, a hazy yellow glow coming from behind. Her fingers itch for her phone, tempted to text the other girl to ask why she was still up. But the lull of sleep is stronger than the desire to be a menace, and she passes out so quickly that it feels like gravity’s been pulled under her.
That night, she dreams of the ocean in all its familiarity and peace.