"We're ofishally over, Serket."
The air felt stale. You wiped your hand on your grey jeans; you can't even look at her. Twirling your fingers into the edges of your shirt, kicking the pebbles with your sneakers, you muster up the courage to look up. Aranea opened her mouth once. Twice – not a single word came out of her chapped lips when she tried. The sounds of the highway roared and then seemingly screeched to a halt, or, at the very least, dulled when she opened her mouth to speak the third time. When she finally managed to squeeze words out, they played in echo inside of your ears. A haunting refrain that, no matter how much you want it to be gone, will never stop ringing inside of you. It comes out of her mouth controlled. Calculated.
"Can't you speak without a fish pun for one second? In a situation like this, where you won't even tell me why we're splitting up, you really had to use a fish pun? You're serious – no wait, no you're not. You're never serious; you have never been serious about anything in your entire life. " Aranea says coldly, quickly wipeing her face with her hands right after. Tears made pathways from her eyes to her chin despite this. She stood there for a long, long time, trying to contain herself in the cold, almost abandoned parking lot – her fists clenched at her sides being the only sign of her true rage. The sight of her quivering body sent terrible shivers through your own. You could only look at the ground below you. There was a near silent "That's it", before she turned her heels, her back toward you, and walked. The /click clack/ of her shoes on pavement provided another sound that ghosts along your memory. A simple, pitiful reminder that you failed. And, worst of all, you failed her.
Currently, you're failing at something else – not thinking of her. You're at the edge of a pier, swinging your legs above the sea. You like to imagine teasing the fish below attempting to bite your bare feet. Suckas. You look down. The dark skin of your feet and your face reflect back at you. The ocean is the same color as her eyes, sometimes. You've always noticed it. But like you, Meenah Pexies, would ever be caught dead thinking of someone's eyes – especially hers. The breeze tickles at you, making you itchy a little. You resist the urge to scratch. You've always loved to sea the ocean. The beach, the shore, the pier – every other place is pretty shrimpy in comparison. It's been a few months since that incident at the concert. You would krill to find out why the ocean hasn't been the same since then. There ain't nothin' like the smell of salt in the air or the sounds of seagulls making their way through the clouds. There ain't nothin' like the smell of old books or a soothing, velvety voice when your head was on her slightly chubby thighs –
Hey. Hey. None of that now, Pexies. You decided this, remember? She was crabbin' yo' style. She was pulling you down with her constant nagging, her constant worrying, the way she cared so much. The way she talked and talked and talked about her concern over you doing this and that; then she always cracked a smile afterword with her off-white teeth and kissed you with her soft lips, telling you how much she loved you in all the words she possibly could.
You know you miss her. There's not much you can do to deny it despite how hard you've tried.
You know it's all your fault. But how could you go back after that? How could your no good glubbin' self get the guts to go back up to her and say you're sorry? You've stepped up to your mom, head of the Betty Crocker industry, you've strifed with your no good father, and faced your doom plenty of times. Why can't you suck it up and just say you're sorry? You can't even say you don't know why, either. You tuck your knobby knees into yourself and cross your arms around them, creating a protective shell around yourself.
She was always good to you. Puttin' you first. Listening to your complaints, selfish whims, and desires. You bought her a gold bracelet with a cerulean gem in it, once, but that's about all you did for her. Buy her things. And she ain't about materials. She did so much more. Comforted you and was actually, yanno, there for you. What did you do? Absolutely nofin in comparison.
For the first time, you're actually scared.
You're scared to hear what she has to say. You're the one that glubbed up, not her. She would be completely and totally in the right to chew you out and hang you like a fish to dry. Or die. You kind of forgot how the saying goes, really. The reel question is, are you ready to face her like the adult you're supposed to be? Do you miss her enough – no, do you care for her enough to get your bony butt in gear and see her? Or maybe just text her. You wonder if she even has your number anymore. You know you never deleted hers. You flip out your shell phone and gaze longingly at her name. Now or never. You text a simple 'hey' with eager, but shaky fingers. You hope you're doing the right thing. A few minutes later your phone buzzes and shit, you pick it up so fast it almost falls out of your hands and into the water.
'Who is this?'
Your heart sinks lower than 50,000 leagues under the sea. Now you have to explain who you are. Is she even going to answer back once she knows? Clammy. Your hands are so clammy. There's no turning back now, though. No turning back.
'Meenah. Meet me later?'
You hold the phone in your hands and take a deep breath.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
/bzzt, bzzt, bzzt/.
You open your phone slowly.
'Well, that depends on where we talk as well as when you want to talk. And if you are going to take this talk seriously.'
There's not a second's hesitation.
'I will. Meet me at the usual beach. 12 tomorrow?'
'okay.'
You breathe a huge sigh of relief. What are you going to say, though? Her replies were short and somewhat terse compared to the wave of texts you'd get when you were dating. You would say it seemed fishy, but considering what happened you're not actually surprised. It just saddens you, is all. You wonder how you're going to sleep tonight or if you're going to at all, twirling the end of one of your braids in your hand. The answer is that you do sleep; it just doesn't feel like you did. One of those days where you wake up with a blink of an eye and boom, it's been eight hours. You go through your usual routine listlessly. You're wearing the same outfit from that day. When it gets to 11 o'clock you become restless. Nervous to the point of cold sweat. This isn't like you – not at all. Yet, have you really been the same you since the break up?
You don't know. But there's no time to think because you have to get going. You take the keys to your fuchsia motorcycle and walk the now heavy steps out of your house. Is this what fear does? Every step is like the burden on Atlas's shoulder. By the time you put on your helmet and step onto the bike, your brain is sinking in on itself. You need to put it on auto pilot. Can't be having these thoughts while driving. It'll get you into an accident or somefin. It's not long before you're there in the beach parking lot, the wooden boardwalk in plain sight. You hop off your bike after turnin' her down, giving the bike a slight pat. You said to meet at the beach. You already see Aranea, though. She's on the boardwalk heading toward the meeting spot. You don't know what comes over you – this is your private beach, you're gonna find her no matter where she goes – but your heart is clenching and suddenly you're bolting from your bike, up the rickety, creaking stairs, and screaming "Serket" from the top of your lungs. When you catch up to her you don't know how far away you should stand, so you settle for a decent amount of distance. You're panting and can't help but put your hands on your knees.
"Meenah?"
Holy mackerel her voice is heavenly. She sounds worried but you don't care. It's beautiful, she's beautiful even if she's just wearing her usual long sleeved blue dress and are those flip flops sticking out of her purse? Oh man, your heart is pounding so fast you can barely hear yourself think. You hear an uneasy click of a high heel coming near you. You hold up your hand, not looking anywhere but at the boardwalk below you, signaling that it's alright. It's a minute or so before you catch your breath again. You dare yourself to glance up at Aranea only to find that she has a worried look on her face – biting her lips ever so slightly. She's looking at you with those gorgeous eyes and there seem to be tears in them already and oh shit you've upset her just by coming here what have you done – seriously you called the girl and she's already going to cry? Maybe you should just go….but you can't leave without saying anyfin. You have to at least try to patch this up.
Straightening your back, you stand tall. You forgot how tall she was in her heels though, compared to you. She's almost your height in them. She's obviously not going to talk first. It's up to you. Move your lips – come on, Meenah. You can do it. There we go.
"Serket... I know I did some…things."
You pause. Silence. Guess that's your signal to keep going.
"And these…things, uh, hurt you."
Silence.
"A lot."
...
This is absolutely maddening. Serket's thing is talking, not yours – why isn't she talking? Did you really glub up that badly? You know you did, but really?
"Look, Serket, I'm trying here! Could you talk to me? I don't –"
"Oh, now you want me to speak? Now, of all times, you want me to speak? You didn't even let me get a word in on our own break up, did you? I know it takes two to tango, but you didn't even tell me what was wrong! What we could have worked together to fix! All this time spent pining over you, all this energy wasted on you, and what does it get me? Some half-hearted attempt at patching things up? Meenah what was even the point of this? This is so stupid…"
She just keeps on going off. You had no idea you made her this angry, this upset. This hurts. So much. You hurt her so badly for your own selfish reasons. You need to stop her. Tell her how you really feel. Do it. Do it – NOW.
"Serket."
"I'm so infuriated! I knew I shouldn't have even come here. I knew you wouldn't take this seriously but I hoped and gave you the benefit of the doubt and this is what it gets me!"
"Serket –"
"That's it. I've had it with this mess of a relationship. It's not worth it at all. Good bye Mee –"
Shit, she's turning around. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. You reach out a hand to grab her even though you know your arms won't reach. Your hand merely catches the bitter chill of the ocean breeze.
"Aranea!"
She stops in her tracks. Have you ever even said her first name before? You don't know, and honestly now isn't the time to wonder about that. You take a long, deep breath.
"Look, I know I did nothin' good. I didn't do a thing right. I was – nah, still am – selfish. I think I always will be and there ain't nothin' no one can do about it. I can try though. I got scared. I got scared because your naggin' was no chore to listen to anymore. My heart was 'bout ready to burst when I saw you and when it clamed down I had this weird feelin' that nothin' really mattered. Like everyfin else wasn't worth it. I was gettin' happier being with you than when Ma gives me gold. I don't take nothin' seriously. You're right. But I was getting serious about you. It scared me. So I ran. I'm sorry."
Aranea turns to her body back toward you. You don't even know if she'll believe you. You were never one for heartfelt speeches like that. All you know is that, for the first time in years, you feel like crying. You can't not look at her though. Her mouth's twitching at its fringes. Like she's about to speak, yet waiting for you to say something more. You sigh as you put your hand behind you and scratch the back of your scalp. Looking her straight in the eye, you try to force down the blush that's attempting to make its way to your cheeks.
"I mighta sorta kinda glub you."
You look down again, not able to contain the flush on your face. She's full blown staring at you now and the gaze is glued to your face with a heat that may just be as hot as your face right now. It's a while before she speaks up.
"Can you say it properly? Without the fish pun?"
Picking your head up, you glance at her eyes and decide to keep your own there.
"Oh man do I –"
"Meenah!"
"Okay, okay."
Another deep breath.
"I love you." You say it with a smirk this time.
That's it. You got it. This has to get her to come back to you.
…Except she's still standing there. Waiting. Her face is contemplative – no. Wary. She's eyeing you down from head to toe. Maybe you don't got this. Maybe she really won't take you back. The fuck are you going to do? God damn it, Meenah, pull yourself together! Think – oh God, there's no point in thinking. She's about to leave you and you're just going to sit here and take this silently? No. You are the heiress to Crocker Corp, and you'll be damned if you don't at least try one more time.
Aranea lifts her fingers up, her mouth opens as if she's about to say something, but you get there first. Your hands are balled up in fists like hers were that day, and you shut your eyes tight, opening them only after you've started panic-talking.
"Aranea, I'm legit sorry. I ain't fucked up nothin' worse than this. I mean it, really I do! I can't manage to do anythin' without you. It ain't even worth imagining a life without you in it – even as a friend. I'd miss your face and your crooked smile and your dimples and how you're such a bad ass and no one even knows it 'cause you talk so fuckin' much; I'd miss your uncuteness when you're mad and fuck if I ain't ever seen someone manipulate nobody like you do – but it's okay 'cause you love most people so much that it barely ever comes out and oh God you're worth more than every single piece of gold I could'a ever gotten my hands on. And when you're silently reading and the way your eyes go from page to page I wish that it'd be you'd look at so…so serious-like – there's so many things about you that could'a and should'a been said – you're flawed but I'm more flawed and god fuckin' dammit I'm just so sorry – please, Aranea!"
The whole time she looked at you while you were speaking. An expressionless face, taunting you into saying each and every word that you didn't even know you could say out loud. And then, after so eons of silence, there's an expression.
A smirk.
"Not one fish pun."
You didn't even realize that you hadn't said any. You gulp, and blush a bit.
You see her wiping tears off her face and a regular smile forming, those dimples coming out fully on her roundish cheeks. She's always had somewhat of a baby face.
"I'd give 'em up for a while if it means you'll take me back." You say cheekily, gaining some confidence back.
Is she accepting your apology? You think she is. Your smirk turns into a full blown grin. You scratch your cheek with your index finger slightly, and look up toward the sky. Seagulls make their rounds as usual – nothing's changed. Yet everything feels different.
She's looking at you in the eye now – some kind of weird emotion in them. You can't really tell what it is. You don't really know what to say. All you want is a hug, really. So why don't you ask for one?
"Um…are we okay now? Can I, uh, get a hug?"
By the time you notice, you have no time to react. Aranea's shoes are off and she's barreling into you top speed, football player style. You fall on your royal behind with her weight on top of you, your arms around her waist – grabbing her tightly because for fuck's sake you're falling with nothing to grab. Luckily you don't hit your head too hard. But the minute you're done muttering a curse or two, her face is there, in front of yours, smiling the happiest smile you've ever seen on her. She's laughing and now you're laughing and it's so loud and real and silly sounding. You're glad this is a private beach. You spend an eternity just holding each other, her arms under your neck soon becoming uncomfortable. But you don't mind. So long as it makes her happy. Her face is been buried into your neck, too and her warm breath is tickling you. She's muttering something into your neck. You can't hear it well, though, so you ignore it. Then, her mouth is next to your ear and your heart jumps.
"Meenah."
"Yes?"
"Kiss me."
"When did'ja get so demanding?" you say with a chuckle.
Aranea lifts her head up and you see her cheeks puff up like a little fugu fish. Absolutely adorable. You laugh as you take one hand from her waist and put it behind her head, pushing her down, with very little force, into you – being careful of your glasses and hers. It's a closed mouth kiss, and never becomes more than that, but it still sends shivers down your spine. You love her. You love her so much you can't stand it. When the kiss breaks, you kiss her everywhere on her face but her mouth. Eyelids, nose, forehead, cheek – she giggles. You figure you should get off the ground sometime soon, though.
"Did you walk here, Serket?"
"Yes. Is something the matter with that?"
"Just wondering if you wanted a ride home."
She kisses you on the cheek.
"That would be great."
"Then you might wanna get offa me."
She blushes quite a bit and she rolls off of you like a turtle. Nice. Her pale skin is hot and your body kind of misses the heat already. The both of you get up, dusting yourselves off. When you get down to the bike you give her the helmet and head to her house, her arms around you. You wonder what's going to happen now – now that you've made up with her and everyfin. You wonder if maybe you can convince her to let you lie in her lap and have her read you Moby Dick or somefin. Or maybe that greek mythology book she loves – that specific story about what's her name. Arachne? Doesn't matter. As long as you can just be with her.
Yeah.
You'd like that.