Chapter Text
You must say, you’re pretty excited for this family meeting. Mirabelle says she has an announcement to make, and you’re pretty sure you know what it might be.
“So!” She claps her hands once you’re all gathered around dinner. “I’ve been, uh.” She clears her throat. “I, um. I don’t know how to start this? It’s just. It’s something very personal to me, and I kinda just figured it out, so I don’t know how to…?” She puts her hand to her mouth, chewing her nails.
“Mira.” You reach up to take her hand, pulling it away from her mouth.
“Oh! Oops! Thanks, Siffrin!” She laughs, and then breathes in slowly and out. Your family has dubbed this “Siffrin breathing,” and you’ll admit you’re pretty honored.
“If what you have to say is too nerve-wracking,” Isabeau says, “nobody’s gonna be offended if you want to wait. I was nervous enough telling everyone about the whole clothing designer thing, and that wasn’t even that big of a deal!”
You smile. You’re proud that he sees telling everyone his fashion aspirations isn’t even a big deal to him anymore. That wasn’t always the case.
You’ve been having more of these big conversations as a family in general, recently. Odile even came clean to everyone about her mother’s Vaugardian heritage. If even she’s opening up, something has definitely changed for the better between you. (And it only took a traumatic experience that will probably haunt you for the rest of your life to get there, haha! You have to laugh about it so you don’t lose your mind!)
You’ve…been trying to talk about your own country more too. As much as you can, without it hurting your head too much. (Your heart is another story, but you don’t think there’s anytime soon where that won’t hurt.) But it’s been good, to try. Everyone has been understanding , even though they don’t actually understand . That’s all you can really ask.
“Hello? Earth to Siffrin? Are you alright?”
You snap to, looking at Mira’s worried face. “Oh, sorry, Mira! I’m okay. Just thinking.”
“O…kay.” She nods, and you give her a real, genuine smile, not the fake one that makes your face hurt now. It’s sweet that everyone worries about you so much, but also a little much sometimes.
“Aaaand you’re stalling,” you say, nudging her softly.
“Maybe a little!” she huffs. “I’m nervous!” She takes a deep breath in through her nose. “Alright, so. I’ve been doing some soul-searching, and I think I’ve…learned some things about myself. So, um...you know how I…like romance books?”
Oh, so this is what you thought it was. You try to hide your grin.
“You’re asking your romance book bestie that?” Isabeau asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Okay, yeah, that was maybe a weak opener…” Mirabelle fidgets with her fingers. “But I guess, um. I love romance books! I love reading about people falling in love, and the trials and tribulations of all that, and whether it ends in happiness or tragedy, it’s always so good!” She flaps her hands excitedly. “But…I guess I didn’t realize until recently that other people like romance books because they want to have something like that in their life for real! And that’s…that’s weird to me.”
“Weird how?” Odile asks, tilting her head.
“Like! When I read a horror book, it’s just because it’s fun to read about! I don’t want that to happen to me, though! And I thought romance was supposed to be the same, but apparently it’s not for most people?”
Isabeau lets out a chuckle, and then covers his mouth with his hand. “Sorry! I’m not laughing at you! It’s just…you thought everyone thought romance was like horror?”
“I mean, I didn’t really think about it! I just…I know I’m weird for this, and I know I’m supposed to want that stuff, but I just never could want it! It’s so gross!” She catches herself. “Um, no offense to you and Siffrin, obviously. You two are a lovely couple.”
You have to fight not to flinch. You don’t know why, just… couple is a big word, isn’t it?
Isabeau doesn’t seem to see anything in your expression, which you’re glad for. “None taken! And it’s not weird. I had a coworker back in Jouvente who was the same way.”
Mirabelle’s eyes go wide. “Really?”
“Yeah, really, Mira!” Isa smiles at her. “People are a lot of different things, y’know? Your way of being isn’t any better or worse than mine just because it’s different.”
“To be honest,” Odile cuts in, “I can relate to that on some level. I thought I was the same way for a long time.”
“HUH?” Mirabelle exclaims, eyes sparkling, and you can’t help but smile. Rarely do you find any joy in remembering any event that happened on that horrible, neverending day, but if ever Odile mentioned her distaste for romance on the same loop that Mirabelle had confessed her lack of attraction to you, she’d turn to you with those starry eyes, an acknowledgement of your shared secret. Maybe it’s because it didn’t happen on every loop, but somehow that little moment was one of the precious few that never quite got old.
“I did fall in love, eventually,” Odile admits. “I was probably around your age at the time.”
“Oh.” Mirabelle’s face has never fallen so quickly. “So you think I might…?” Her mouth twists into a grimace before she can even try to finish the sentence.
“No, that’s not what I meant at all,” Odile hastens to add. “I mean, it’s not entirely impossible, but you seem fairly sure of yourself. And…I’ve come to find it’s not exactly as black and white as experiencing, or not experiencing romantic feelings. As I said, I have felt them, but much less frequently than I think most do. And I don’t know whether it’s a result of my upbringing not leaving me with much faith in romance,” here she briefly looks away, “or whether it’s something that would have been inherent to me no matter what, but the few romantic relationships I have had have been ill fated, and I quickly decided they were not for me.”
“Wow…” Mirabelle whispers. “I…I had no idea. Wow. I thought I was just…wrong, for not being able to Change in that way. I didn’t realize there were other people who were the same.”
“Hm, really?” Odile replies. “Given Vaugarde’s proclivity to being welcoming and accepting to all, I’m surprised it’s not common knowledge here.”
“Not at all,” Mirabelle says. “Romance is such a big deal here, what with bonding being considered the biggest way to Change.”
“Right down to the earrings,” agrees Isabeau.
“Right down to the earrings,” Mirabelle repeats softly, touching her own round, darkless studs with an expression of distaste.
“Well,” Odile shrugs, “I suppose no culture is perfect.”
The phrase makes you wonder what the cultural norms about romance were in your country. You try to think back to the first time you had this conversation with Mirabelle—had you found it particularly out of the ordinary, that she didn’t experience those feelings, or had you been confused why the thought was so upsetting to her? You can’t remember, exactly.
“And by the way, Madame,” Mirabelle giggles, “I would like to hear about your ‘ill-fated romantic relationships.’”
“As would I,” Isabeau adds.
“I don’t!” Bonnie exclaims. They’ve been so quiet, you almost forgot they were still here. “Dile’s old! I don’t wanna hear about her being in love. Gross.” They stick their tongue out.
“Well, you’re in luck, Boniface, because you won’t be hearing about it,” Odile replies. “None of you will.”
“Well, I’m gonna go write to my sister anyway,” Bonnie announces. They’ve been writing back and forth to Petronille whatever chance they get as the group make their way to Bambouche. “I’m sick of your boring grownup conversation.” They glance over at Mirabelle. “But I am proud of you, Belle. I don’t get why it’s such a big deal, but if it’s a big deal to you, then it’s brave of you to be able to tell us.”
“Aw!” Mirabelle laughs. “That’s very sweet of you, Bonnie.”
Odile watches them march off. “Well, you can’t say that kid doesn’t speak their mind.” Her tone carries a hint of amusement.
“Yeah. Um. There is actually one thing I wanted to say while they’re not here.” Mirabelle swallows, her fingernails drifting back towards her mouth. “Something that’s not, uh, super Bonnie-appropriate?”
“Oh?” Isabeau asks, brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
You…think you know. This conversation…it was good, the first time. Hopefully it will be this time, too.
“Well, uh!” Mirabelle’s voice pitches just a bit higher. “Alongside the romance stuff, I also feel super grossed out by all the, um. Physical stuff?” She seems uncomfortable even bringing it up. “And like, that’s, I know if I don’t want to do that, I’m never going to have kids, at least not biological kids, and that’s a big deal too! I’m missing out on an opportunity to carry the Change belief down, and the way that families transform from generation to generation is a big deal, and I can’t do that if I don’t want to…” she gestures vaguely.
Yeah, it’s exactly what you thought it was. You feel a little odd comfort in your heart that even with how badly you messed things up with her, she’s still managed to get here in the end.
“Siffrin?”
Ah, that’s your name. “Huh?”
“You’re…making a face,” Mirabelle tells you.
Wuh oh. “What kind of face?”
“An ‘I know something you don’t’ face!” She gasps. “Wait. Did we have this conversation before?”
“...busted?”
“Oh!” Mirabelle exclaims. “When we talked right after we broke the time loop, and you were gonna tell me something I told you in the loops but I made you not because I didn’t want any spoilers and I wanted to figure it out for myself! Was this what that was?”
“Hah, yeah.” You grin. “I’ve kinda been waiting for you to say this for a bit.”
“Oh wow.” Mirabelle smiles shyly. “And…and how did it go? The other times I told you?”
“It went well!” you tell her. “I mean, you were really stressed about it, but I usually managed to calm you down a bit. Get you to accept that you’re not broken.” She takes in a soft breath at that. “And it especially cheered you up when I told you that I…”
Your voice cuts off suddenly, a spike of stress shooting through you. When you first had this conversation with Mirabelle, it was the first time you’d ever told anyone how icked out you are about the idea of sex, but after saying it again and again, the novelty quickly wore off. But…you’ve never talked about it with anyone but Mirabelle.
You’ve especially never talked about it with Isabeau present.
Still, though, you can deal with the terror that’s beginning to seep into your brain like water saturating a sponge at a later date! Probably in the middle of the night sometime! What’s important now is helping Mirabelle.
“Told me that you what?” Mirabelle tilts her head in concern. “Oh, Siffrin, you don’t have to tell us if you don’t feel comfortable right now!”
“No, no, it’s fine,” you assure her. “I just said that…I’ve never wanted to do the, um, the physical stuff either. It grosses me out too. And that…that really comforted you to hear.”
“Oh!” Mirabelle giggles, flapping her hands again. “That…that really is comforting! And what Madame Odile said is too!” Her eyes are starting to well up with tears. “I felt so alone in being the way I am, but I had no idea we all had this in common!”
“Well, all of us save Isabeau,” Odile adds, “but yes.”
Mirabelle clamps a hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Isabeau! I didn’t think!”
Isabeau laughs. “Nah, it’s fine. I’m just happy for all of you. I know how important it is to figure out who you are, y’know?”
“Yeah, exactly!” Mirabelle lets out a breath, sniffling and wiping her eyes. “Oh, Change, I’m so relieved. I’ve been trying to figure out how to get this off my chest for so long, and it’s finally out there!”
“Aw, Mira,” Isabeau chuckles. “C’mon, bring it in, group hug.”
You, Isabeau and Mirabelle immediately pull one another into a hug, but to your surprise, another body joins the human pile.
“Madame Odile?” Mirabelle exclaims.
“ You’re joining in the group hug?” Isabeau adds, equally incredulous.
“It’s a special occasion,” Odile replies. “Don’t expect this too frequently.”
“Okay.” Mirabelle giggles as she pulls back. “Okay. I think I need some downtime to process stuff. But…thank you all so much.”
“It’s no problem,” you tell her. “Thank you for trusting us with this.”
Mirabelle shoots all of you a grin before she skips away. You watch her go, smiling.
“Hey, Sif?”
You jump at Isabeau’s voice. “Huh?”
“I’m glad you said something too. About not wanting physical stuff.”
“Oh. Yeah.” You nod, a lump in your throat. “I’m, um. I’m. Sorry?”
“You’re sorry?” Isabeau repeats. “Sorry for what?”
“I, I, I guess.” Your words are sticking to your insides, your brain churning too fast to properly form words in a language not native to you. “I just, I know you’re not, you’re not like me, you do want things that I don’t ever want, and I love you and I want you to be happy with whatever this is but I don’t know if I can ever be enough–!”
“Whoa, hey, Sif!” Isabeau interrupts. “Hey, hey, you’re okay! Where’s this coming from?”
“I’m. I don’t know?” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own. You feel dizzy. “It’s just, I’m already a whole load of emotional baggage as it is, I don’t want to be more of a burden for you…”
“Well, that’s just a load of crab.” Isabeau crosses his arms, eyes locked on you. “Nobody here thinks that about you, Siffrin.” Oh, now you’re Siffrin , not Sif. He’s really serious about this. Great going, stupid, you made things weird! “Yeah, you’re…fragile right now, but so are all of us, to some extent. We all look out for one another, because we love each other, and that’s what you do when you love someone. You’re there for them at their best and their worst because you love every part of them. That’s what you are to us, and what we are to you.”
“Y…yeah.” You’ve been told this, and you know it to be true, but when your brain gets going down that path, it’s hard to make yourself believe it.
“And as for the other stuff…” Isabeau sighs. “You know I don’t want anything from you that you’re not willing to do, right? Like, anything that would make you unhappy, I’d never want that! What I want from you, more than anything, is for you to just tell me if something makes you uncomfortable.”
“Okay. Yeah. I’ll try.” You force yourself to breathe. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine. He doesn’t resent the fact that the person he fell in love with is broken like this—no, not broken, you cut your own thoughts off. If Mirabelle isn’t broken for not wanting what others want, neither are you.
“Alright, good.” Isabeau starts to say something else, but he’s cut off with a yawn.
You laugh. “Up past your bedtime, are you?”
“Yeah, I’m getting a little eepy,” Isabeau admits, smiling back at you. “How about you?”
“I think I’m gonna be up for a while longer,” you tell him. You don’t know what he’s expecting. It’d be more cause for concern if you were in bed before midnight, something you only ever do when you’re stupid enough to unthinkingly use Craft and send yourself into a bout of illness. You really hope that at some point you’ll be able to use Craft again without making yourself sick, but one step at a time.
“Okay, well.” Isabeau’s eyebrows crunch up. “Are you…gonna be safe if I go to bed?”
“Yeah! Yeah, I’m safe.” You hear this from your family all the time, but you try not to let annoyance flare up in you. It’s not like you’ve given them particular reason to trust you by yourself. (You don’t trust yourself that much either—if you did, you wouldn’t have sold your knife to the first pawn shop you came across, but even the companionship of the trusty dagger that had been by your side as long as you’d been traveling Vaugarde wasn’t worth the fear of what you might impulsively do with it when you next hit rock bottom.) You realize you’ve been silent for too long, and add, “Besides, Odile is here!”
“Oh! So she is!” Isabeau looks startled at having realized that. “Sorry, m’dame.”
“No offense taken, Isabeau,” Odile replies, not looking up from her book.
“Right! Okay then! Both of you, have a good night.” Isabeau squeezes your hand. “And try to stay out of your head, alright, Sif?”
You smile softly. “I’ll do my best.”
You watch him go, breathing in, breathing out, slow and steady. You’re fine, you’re safe, you’re—
“Siffrin?”
You jump at the sound of Odile’s voice. “Huh?”
“May I ask you a personal question? You don’t have to answer.”
“Oh, um. Sure?” You swallow.
She looks up, staring at you as if you’re the subject of her nonexistent research. “When Mirabelle referred to you and Isabeau as a couple, you seemed ill at ease. Is there a reason for that, or…?”
Oh. Of course she noticed that, because as you’ve learned the hard way, Odile notices blinding everything! “It’s not a big problem. Just, we haven’t really…had that conversation yet. And everyone keeps assuming it’s a done deal, but…?”
“But it isn’t,” Odile finishes. “I understand.”
“Yeah. And it’s kind of a lot to think about when I’m not even sure that I…” You trail off. You’re not even sure where that sentence is going, and the idea of trying to follow it scares you just a bit.
Thankfully, Odile doesn’t try to prompt you to finish it. “Hm,” she simply says, still staring intently at you with the firelight reflecting in her glasses. “Interesting.”
WHAT DOES THAT MEAN???
Odile slams her book shut. “Well, I’m going to go to get ready for bed.”
“Uh, yeah. Me too,” you mumble without thinking.
“Really? Before midnight?” The face she makes is all too familiar to you, from all those times she got dangerously close to figuring it out, and the one time she did. (You wonder absently what would have happened if you hadn’t looped back. Would it have saved you, or is it just a case of hindsight being 20/20?) You jolt at the feeling of a hand on your forehead, and realize Odile has stood up and come over to you. “You haven’t gone and made yourself Craft-sick again, have you?”
“No!” you say. You don’t feel great right now, but you’re pretty sure that’s more mental than physical, not that you’re not well used to both by now, teehee! “I just….I need some time to think, that’s all. I’m not actually gonna sleep.”
“Good,” Odile says, and then adds, “Well, not good, ideally you’d go to sleep at a regular hour, but you are still Siffrin, after all.”
You laugh. “Yeah, fair enough. Night, Odile.”
“Goodnight, Siffrin.”
You put on your pajamas and brush your teeth, even though you really don’t at all plan on going to sleep anytime soon. Too many times you’ve gotten lost in your own thoughts for so long that you suddenly find yourself waking up still in your clothes, and you don’t like doing that. Feels too much like napping, which in turn feels too much like…
Anyways, you’re not particularly a nap person anymore.
When you get to the tent that your family has been using en route to Bambouche, you smile at the sight. Isabeau is already out like a light, and Bonnie is cuddled up against his side. Aww.
Mirabelle is still up, although in her nightgown and bonnet, with a book in her lap. “Oh, Siffrin! Are you…going to bed? It’s barely past 10…” She frowns. “Are you okay? You’re not sick or anything, right?”
Stars, are you that much of a night owl, that it’s such a huge concern that you’re going to bed early? “I’m okay, Mira! I’m not gonna sleep, I just need to…think.”
“Oh. Well.” Mirabelle tilts her head. “Do you, um…would you like me to brush your hair?”
You blink. “Oh! Yeah! That’d be…really nice.”
Mirabelle gasps. “Really?”
You giggle, grinning at her. “Yeah, really!”
Mirabelle peers closer at you. “What’s so funny?”
“No, it’s just…you freaked out a lot more about me saying yes to that in the House,” you explain.
“I…I said it in the House?” she asks, eyes wide. “Oh, Siffrin, I’m so sorry, if you don’t want me to do it, if it brings back bad memories, you don’t have to let me, I don’t want to–!”
“No, no, it’s alright!” you promise. “It wasn’t something that always happened. I think it’s fine.”
“Okay…” Mirabelle purses her lips. “But let me know if you start feeling bad and I’ll stop, okay?”
“I will!” you tell her, and then at her disbelieving look, “I will .”
“Okay,” Mirabelle huffs. “I am going to choose to believe that you learned your lesson about telling us if something is wrong. Do not make me regret that choice.” Her voice is firm in a way that makes you giggle again.
“Mira! I’m going to tell you,” you insist.
“Good.” Mirabelle pats the bedroll in front of her, and you sit down as she gets to work. Her hands running through your hair feels so nice.
Both of you sit in comfortable silence until after Odile has come in and gone to sleep, before Mirabelle says, “You know, I’m sure you don’t remember this, since it was so long ago for you, but a while back you did my hair in those lovely braids. I was surprised, since we have such different hair textures, but you’ve got a real skill with styling kinky hair!”
Yeah, she said that in the loops, too. You do have quite different hair textures—you inherited yours from ███████, but ████████ had hair more like Mirabelle’s—
“Siffrin!” Mirabelle exclaims as you let out a gasp of pain. Flew a little too close to the sun, thinking about it like that. “Are you okay? Was I pulling your hair?”
“Ah. Ow. No, not at all.” You do that thing Odile showed you once that helps with headaches—pinching the skin between your thumb and index finger. It’s weird that it works, but it does.
“No you’re not okay or no I’m not pulling?” Mirabelle asks. You hold up two fingers to indicate the latter, and she lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh, Siffrin, another headache?”
“Uh-huh,” you grit out. “It’s passing, though.”
“Good.” Mirabelle nods firmly, her hand coming up to gently squeeze your shoulder. “Did something I said trigger it?”
You know lying to her to save her feelings will just make her mad, so you say, “Maybe a little?”
“Oh. I’m sorry! Here, let’s change the subject.” She lets out a breath. “I’m so glad I finally said what I said today. Sitting on it for so long was no fun. Even before I knew for sure, it still felt like I was hiding this big thing even from myself. It’s awful.”
“I totally get that,” you tell her. “The first person I told that I felt the same—at least about part of it—was you, after you told me how you felt. It’s just…I dunno, it’s not something that comes up easily in conversation, y’know? But…it felt like a weight off my shoulders to say it out loud. I imagine it was the same for you, huh?”
“It was!” Mirabelle smiles, ruffling your hair. “You know, I’m really honored that I’m the first person you told that.”
“And I’m honored that I’m the first person you told!” You laugh, leaning closer to her.
“We’re doing pretty well at this Feelings Buddies thing so far, aren’t we?” she asks.
“I’m FEELING the same way.” You smirk.
Mirabelle looks at you seriously. “Siffrin,” she tells you firmly, “that was bad.”
“I know, I know.”
“Not even regular Siffrin bad,” she adds. “I think this might be a new low for you.”
You put a hand to your chest. “You wound me, Mira.”
“Oh!” Her eyes go wide. “Did I actually upset you, or—?”
“No, not at all!” you hasten to say. “I’m doing a bit, I promise.”
“Okay.” She lets out a breath. “As long as I’m not hurting you for real…”
A smile spreads over your face. Stars, you love her so much. How’d you end up with such an amazing family?
Oh yeah, you went on a journey to save the country and then had such a breakdown about the idea of leaving one another that you broke time itself about it. Right, that whole thing.
Mirabelle sighs. “But anyways…there’s still so much I’m learning. Like, I didn’t even know there were people like me, let alone that you could have different feelings on romance and, um, sex.” She glances nervously at Bonnie as if worried they’ll wake up and hear her. That’s fair. They’re probably just about old enough to have that talk, you think, but that’s a job for Petronille and is neither your circus nor your monkeys. “But it’s like that for you? It’s different?”
You nod. “It is different, yeah.” You don’t know why there’s a lump in your throat all of a sudden. It’s probably nothing.
“A-and what Madame Odile said, too!” Mirabelle adds, bouncing in place. “Like, it’s not as simple as having or not having romantic attraction, it’s also about feeling it later or less often than other people. I didn’t know that was a thing at all either. I’ve never heard of anyone not having a crush until they were my age and then having one then! Have you?”
Well, have you?
You try to think. Come to think of it, you’re older than Mirabelle is, and before Isabeau, you’re not sure you’ve ever…well, even with Isabeau, did you even really feel anything until you knew how he felt for you? No, you did, a bit, you think, but it was just at the back of your mind, barely even perceptible and so entirely unfamiliar to you that you’d let it slide, until it hit you like a rock from the blinding ceiling what exactly it was he wanted to confess and suddenly you wanted him to so so badly, until you’d realized that he was never, ever going to touch your shoulder so you acted on your worst instinct, until you could feel the fabric of his shirt clutched tightly in your hand as you pulled him in and the stubble on his chin pressing into your face and his mouth on yours and his hand on your arm pushing you back because he would never hurt you even when you hurt him and the tug on your stomach that would make it so he would never remember this happened except for you who would have to live with the full knowledge of how disgusting you are—
“Siffrin!”
You make a strangled noise as Mirabelle’s voice cuts through your thoughts. Oh no, were you visibly freaking out?
“Oh, Siffrin,” Mirabelle whispers. “Just breathe, alright? I’m here. You’re not in the House, you’re not in Dormont, we’re on the way to Bambouche, and—”
“I know,” you manage to rasp. “I’m okay, Mira, I promise.”
“You don’t look okay—”
“I’m an adult, okay, Mirabelle? I can deal with myself!” you snap, and then immediately feel the nausea return as you see her eyes widen. “Stars, I’m sorry for yelling, I’m sorry for being a mess, I’m sorry for being the way I am—”
“Hey! Stop it!” Mirabelle’s voice snaps you out of it. “I know you’re sorry, Siffrin. I don’t want to hear that right now. What I want is to make sure you’re safe. Yes, you were a bit of a crab just now, but I love you for every part of you, even the crabby ones. And don’t let me hear you apologize for existing again, okay? I’m so, so glad you exist.”
“...mmkay.” You don’t really know if your brain can handle that right now, but you slowly scoot back onto the bedroll next to her and lean into her side.
“Okay.” She breathes in and out slowly, and you try to follow her. Funny, isn’t it, that now she’s the one helping you do Siffrin breathing. You let out a hollow little laugh, which makes her smile. “Heheh, see, Siffrin, you’re okay!”
You blink, heavily, looking at her. “You…you look tired,” you croak out. “Should probably sleep.”
“Not until I know you’re safe!” Mirabelle insists. “Don’t try to take care of me while I’m taking care of you!”
“‘S kinda how this whole family thing works,” you point out.
“...fair enough,” Mirabelle agrees. “How about this? We can both lie down, and I know I’ll probably fall asleep before you do, but I can keep an eye on you until then, and if there’s anything you need you can wake me up! And you will wake me up, alright? No worrying about bothering me.”
“Alright.” Tentatively, you lay your head down on the pillow, and she lays hers down next to yours. “Goodnight, Mira. I love you.”
“Goodnight, Siffrin! I love you too!” She smiles at you, and you try your best to return it.
As predicted, she drifts off within a few minutes, and you do not. You give her sleeping face one last smile before flipping over, your eye landing on Isabeau.
You breathe slowly, trying not to let the guilt creep back into your head. He doesn’t think you’re disgusting, even after you told him that you kissed him without asking in one loop, you remind yourself. He still wants a romantic relationship with you.
That last part….doesn’t make you feel much better, you realize.
You want this too, in theory, but in practice, you don’t blinding know what you want! Yes, you know you can have romance without sex, but how much do you even want romance? You’ve had… ample practice kissing since the loops, this time the right way where both parties are sure the other is okay with it, and you're pretty sure you like that . Isabeau’s never referred to you as his partner before, but you’ve mentally toyed with the idea of asking him to, and you’ve decided you like the idea. (There’s another word, something else you want to be called, but you can’t put your finger on it, and it’s…probably safer not to try.) But stuff like “couple?” That…that scares you, and you just don’t know why.
You wish you could explain this to someone, but…Mirabelle won’t quite get it, given that she doesn’t experience romantic attraction at all. Even if Isabeau weren’t off limits by virtue of this being kinda about him, you still know he wouldn’t get it. He’s such a romantic in a very traditionally Vaugardian way, where it’s kind of all-consuming. He’d accept you, you’re pretty sure, but you just don’t know how you could explain this to someone who feels romantic love in the way Isabeau does. Bonnie’s just a kid, they don’t get any of this yet. Odile…might, from what she said earlier, but is she in-between in the same way you might be, really?
They’d be understanding, but they would not understand . Most of the time that’s enough, but right now the difference could not feel more stark.
Your mind drifts back to that sad diary from the house. The cautionary tale about Wish Craft, about the person who crafted another self, because nobody truly understood them but themself. The one that was told to you as a kid. (You can remember that kind of thing a little better now, as long as you don’t think directly about it too much. Like looking at the sun.) Even though the story was meant as a warning, you’d still always loved the idea of getting to talk to another you, who would instinctively understand you without having to explain.
Now, of course, you’ve learned that’s not all it’s cracked up to be, but it’s still better than nothing.
Careful not to wake anyone, you push yourself up onto your feet and tiptoe carefully over your family members out of the tent. You put on your boots once you get to the tent flap—you’d rather not step on something out in the woods and have to go to a Craft healer in the middle of the night, regardless of how silly you look in pajamas and heels.
Once you’re far away enough from the campsite, you sink down on a rock and stare at your hand for a while before forcing your shaking fingers to go through the motions. You’ve done it a few times since that day under the Favor Tree, and nothing came of it, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting to pretend that it’ll work this time.
Okay, okay, okay. Make a fist, stick out your thumb and little finger. You’ve always thought it looks like a banana, like that stars-blinding peel lying on the ground in Dormont that spelled your doom all those times. You think of the feeling of your face going crack on the pavement, and shudder a little as you bring your hand up to your face.
Alright, last step. The hardest one, right now. Feels…gross and vulnerable, even if you’re pretty sure nobody can hear you.
You just want to talk to them.
You want to talk to them. You want to talk to them you want to talk to them you want to talk to them you want to talk to them you want to talk to them you want to talk to them you want to talk to them—
You breathe in and out, trying to suppress the hysterical laugh bubbling up in your chest. Stars, what else should you have expected? They’re gone, Siffrin! Who knows where, but surely somewhere they can’t reach you and you can’t reach them! Either that, or they don’t want to!
You keep trying to breathe. Even if they’re not there, it’ll help to talk. To pretend.
“So, I’m, uh.” You clear your throat. They’d usually be the one to start these conversations, but obviously that’s not an option right now, and you are…not a great conversationalist. “It’s not going great right now.” The silence that follows feels oddly loaded, seeing as there’s nobody on the other end. “I mean, no, that’s not fair. Things are a lot better. We’re all getting better at actually talking about things with one another, that’s a big plus. Myself included. And, like, Mirabelle told everyone about how she doesn’t feel attraction today, and I’m super proud of her for that! And I also brought up how I’m…y’know, the same way about the sex part, and I was kind of scared that…I don’t know, that Isabeau wanted that from me and would be put off by the fact that I don’t want that at all, but he didn’t! Except…except…” Your voice falters, and you clear your throat again. “Except, I don’t even know whether I—well, I know I’m not like Mira, I’m not completely devoid of romantic feelings period, but I also don’t think I feel them the same way people like Isa do? And Odile said something about not thinking it’s totally black and white, and I think that kind of resonated? But I’m not sure I totally get it either. Ugh, I just don’t get any of this and I don’t need this confusion on top of everything else–!”
You sigh. Your throat stings. Blegh, it’s weird to talk this much at once.
Ugh, put your weird banana-hand away and go back to bed, Siffrin. Nobody’s going to—
[Having a breakdown all by yourself, stardust?]
You have to stifle a scream. Did you really just hear that? No, no, you must have been imagining it.
[Aw, I bet you’re thinking about how you must be imagining this, huh? I know talking to me is a dream come true, but you’re really doing it!!! Hiya!!!]
You have…so many questions, but the first that comes out is, “Where…are you?”
[Oh. Well. Funny, I’m not really sure!] You hear their laugh in your head. [I’m not dead, so that’s something, I guess! But I also don’t really exist all that much right now? I dunno, the Universe is mysterious, isn’t it?]
“You’re telling me.” You hear yourself sniffle, and run your hand over your eye and nose. You hadn’t even realized you were crying.
[Aw, stardust, there’s no need to get all choked up! You really missed me, huh?]
“Yeah, I did!” You sniffle again. “Why—why didn’t you answer me, the times I’ve done this before? I’ve tried to talk to you, and nothing! Could you hear me the whole time?”
[Of course I could, silly! But I knew you weren’t in a state to Craft all that much, and if you got talking to me, you’d just keep going until you made yourself sick, now wouldn’t you? Not that you really should be crafting now, but you’re at least a bit stronger than you were. Besides, you’re in a conundrum, and what else am I here for if not to help with your conundrums!]
The words make your stomach turn. “That’s not fair,” you tell them. “You’re a person too.”
[Maybe! I don’t want to talk about that right now, teehee!] You…really hope you don’t sound like this when you work yourself up into a state, but you kind of suspect you do. [Anyways, stardust, how can I help you in this wonderful new loop?] A pause. [Oops, force of habit. You know what I mean.]
“Well, I mean, uh.” You laugh awkwardly. “I did just kind of tell you.”
[Ah. Yeah. That. I…wish I could help you there, I really do, but you’ve gotten farther than I ever have. So.]
“Huh, really? So Isabeau never…?”
Loop laughs again, bitterly. [Oh, come on, stardust, my Fighter was the same as yours. It takes something truly astronomical for him to get to that point, you know that as well as I do. We’re the ones who changed, not them, remember? At least, until recently.]
“Oh. I guess that makes sense.” You sigh.
[He did…hold my hands, in a couple loops.] Loop’s voice sounds achingly wistful. [His hands were always so sweaty I could feel it through my gloves. It was kinda gross. But nice, too.]
“Yeah, haha!” You find yourself laughing, despite yourself. “I took his hand while we were walking into a town to go shopping the other day, and the guy looked like he was gonna pass out. It was sweet, though.”
[That does sound sweet.]
“Yeah. Except…” Now that you’re thinking about it, there was another feeling there. “It felt nice holding his hand like that, but it felt weird to be seen like that. Like every time someone looked at us, it felt like they were making all these assumptions that…that I don’t even know if they’re true or not.”
[Well.] Loop is silent for a moment, then asks, [Do you want them to be true?]
“I…don’t know.” It feels like a weight off your chest to say it aloud. “I said I needed time to figure it out, when he first confessed, but the more time I take the more confused I am! And like, I’m not a child, I should know how this works, but I just don’t! And I feel so…I feel so…!”
[Yeah. Again, I can’t really help you with that one too much, stardust. I’m flattered you think I could, though!]
“I dunno, I just wanted to know…what would you do, in my position? Did you want this, to be a couple or whatever, when you were…me?”
[Well, were you in any state to figure any of this out in the loops?]
That’s…fair. “Well, yeah, but if you got the chance now? Would you?”
[Still a hard call. I know how you think, yes, but so much has changed, for both of us. I mean, if you replace every part of a ship, until no wooden board or thread of the mast is the same, can you call it the same ship you started with? Everything that makes you Siffrin, I lost it when I became…this. I don’t have your face, or your name, or your personality, or your voice. We don’t even speak with the same accent.]
You blink. No, you don’t, do you? How hadn’t you realized? They, like you, have kept that silver coin from the boulangerie this whole time, and yet they’ve lost the thing that makes it matter.
It used to bother you a bit, how every word you spoke marked you so obviously as foreign. Not that people were unkind about it, not here in diverse, accepting Vaugarde, but it still made you feel weird to so clearly stand out. Then after the Incident, the apprehension turned to fear that what happened with the boulangere would happen again. But…the idea of losing your accent makes you feel sick. It’s one of the few indestructible threads you have to where you come from. And it’s…well, like Loop said, it’s one of the things that really makes you Siffrin. It’s a part of you, through and through, that you can’t imagine living without.
You take a breath. “So…you don’t think we’re the same person anymore?”
[I didn’t say that! Don’t put words in my mouth, stardust. Or lack thereof, teehee! I was just posing a question!]
“Oh. I mean, yeah, I dunno. We’re…really different now, you’re right.” You know this is a serious moment, but you suddenly remember a silly question that you’ve always been curious about since you last saw one another. “I mean, we don’t even use the same pronouns. I use he/they, but you just use they/them. Why is that?”
Loop is silent for another moment, and then bursts into laughter.
[Heehee, yeah, you’re so right, stardust! Good catch!] Are they being sarcastic with you? You hope you’re not this much of a blinding jerk, at least. [Honestly, I don’t know. I wouldn’t be entirely opposed to he/him, I don’t think, but it’s not the way it was anymore.]
“...the way it was?”
[Well, yeah. Like, for you, when people use your pronouns, that feels somehow just…right to you, right? I mean, if I were to say, “Siffrin has the cutest little confused expression on his face because they have no idea what I’m talking about,” that just feels inherently correct, does it not?]
“The pronouns, yeah, the sentiment, no,” you grumble, trying to force your face out of whatever expression they were talking about. Ugh .
[Aw, you. Anyways, I just kind of…I guess I don’t feel like I like or dislike he/him pronouns anymore, it just…is. Same goes for they/them to some extent, honestly. I’m just kind of apathetic, but I gotta be called something, right?] They laugh again. [Maybe I’ll try something new. Like she, or it, or xe. Or…]
“The ‘royal we?’” you joke, your mind drifting back to your first meeting.
[Pff, yes, I did say that, didn’t I? That was funny. You didn’t get how funny it was back then, but that was a good one!]
“It was!” You break into laughter, but your throat catches and you cough into the sleeve of your pajama shirt.
[I should probably let you go. You’re starting to push how much Craft your body can take right now, aren’t you?]
“I can handle myself!” you insist, even though you’re realizing now that there’s a headache starting in your temples and your stomach is beginning to feel nauseous and your arms are shaking. But it’s whatever! You’ve had your fair share of Craft sickness as of late, and one more minor bout probably won’t do any permanent damage. You think. You’re not a healer.
[Uh huh, sure. Sure, stardust, if you say so. Just don’t pin it on me if you collapse, Mx. Terrible Self-Care Skills.]
“Hey, I resent that!” you huff. “My self-care skills are…improving.”
[Eh, regardless, I should probably let you go! Don’t want your family members to worry.]
“...yeah.” You didn’t miss the bitterness lacing their tone. “I’ll tell them you said hi.”
[Please do.] Loop’s voice perks up as they add, [Alright, stardust, we’ll talk soon! Hopefully soon enough we’ll both be strong enough that we can talk for longer!] They are starting to sound a little worn out, you realize. You wonder if doing this exerts them as much as it does you.
“Yeah, for sure!” You pause. “And you should talk to my family as well at some point. I know you’re well aware they’ve tried to call you, and they want to know you’re okay.”
[...I may take you up on that, yeah.] You can almost see Loop’s eyes smile in your mind. [Alright, stardust, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Probably don’t do most things I would do either! Teehee! Byyyye~!]
“Bye…” you reply. For some reason, you’re tempted to add, “I love you.”
You don’t, though, instead dropping your hand to your side.
You sigh, and start trying to make your way back to the tent, but that’s easier said than done. The second you stand up, your head starts spinning, and it keeps getting worse the more you walk. Sure, you feel less ill than you previously would have after even half the time you just spent using Craft, so that’s a plus, but you still feel dizzy and generally off , and neither your lack of depth perception nor the unfamiliar trees are doing you any favors.
You hear a crunch behind you, and spin. Your hand goes to your pocket before you remember you no longer carry a dagger. And Craft isn’t an option unless you want to make yourself sicker and weaker. In other words, you’re stars-blinded. And now whatever this is, it’s gonna—
“Frin?”
“Bonnie!” You let out a breath. “Why are you up, Bonbon? It’s the middle of the night!”
“I had to go to the bathroom,” they reply. “Why are you up? I thought you were a Sadness or something, you scared the crab outta me!”
“Hah, I thought the same thing about you!” You laugh, coughing a little.
“You weren’t getting mad at yourself again, right? ‘Cause of stuff that happened in the timeloops?” Bonnie’s eyebrows scrunch up, and they reach out to take your hand. “You promised if that happened you’d talk to someone instead of going off by yourself.”
“No, it wasn’t that, I promise,” you tell them. “I was just feeling a little stir-crazy, and I needed to get some fresh air before I went back to sleep. I’m feeling a lot better now, though.”
“Oh yeah?” Bonnie frowns.
“...yes…” you reply slowly. “Why are you saying that like that?”
“‘Cause you’re shivering even though it’s not cold and even if it were, Za says your PJs are made of the same stuff that your cloak is that makes sure you never get too hot or cold.” They reach up to put a hand on your forehead, making sure to pause for a second so you know what they’re doing. You must be running a little warm, because when they pull back they tip their chin up and announce, “You were using Craft even though you’re not s’posed to!”
Wuh oh!!! “J-just a little! I was just seeing if I could do it!”
“But you’re not supposed to do any! Your body isn’t ready, Dile said so! I’m gonna tell her in the morning, and then she’s gonna be mad! Or worse, disappointed .”
“Oh, no, not disappointed!” You laugh, but it turns to more coughs, which in turn triggers a bout of nausea. You lean on your knees, breathing slowly. Ugh.
Bonnie frowns. “We just worry about you, Frin. I mean, you had to do that whole forever school thing! You gotta rest and take care of yourself, dummy!”
You breathe in, and out. “I’m sorry for worrying you, Bonbon. The Craft thing I had to do was pretty important, but I probably shouldn’t have been so hasty.”
Bonnie tilts their head. “What was it that was so important that you had to do it now?”
You don’t have the energy for this. “I’ll explain in the morning.”
“Okay! C’mon, I’ll walk you back.” Bonnie takes your hand. “And maybe I’ll make you some of my awesome healing soup in the morning, as long as you promise not to use Craft again until you’re all the way better.”
“Okay.” You giggle, squeezing their hand as you begin to walk back together.
Once you get back, you flop down on your bedroll, a wave of exhaustion hitting you. Suddenly, you feel a small body curl up against yours.
“Sorry, ‘s it okay if I stay with you?” Bonnie mumbles. “Don’t wanna have another nightmare.”
Oh. Emotion floods your chest. You can’t believe how far things have come that they trust you with this. “Of course, Bonnie. I’ll protect you, alright? And you can protect me. And because it’s just dreams, there’s no chance either of us will get hurt for real!”
“Mmkay. Sounds nice.” Bonnie snuggles closer to you. “Love you, Frin.”
“Love you too, Bonbon.”
You shut your eye, and before you know it you’re drifting off to sleep.