I can't make everyone happy. I never could.

"Will you go out with me?"

The words freeze in the air, hanging heavy. I glance at her. Her eyes. Why didn't I notice them before? They're alive. Too alive. I can't look at them without feeling her actions slowly compressing me. They're too dead. Her eyes are full of artificial life.

"Yes."

I don't have much of a choice. Even if I did...

I can't make everyone happy. Sayori...perhaps Monika was right. Some people won't change. And hell, maybe she was being selfish. Yuri...she cut herself even before Monika corrupted her. And Natsuki, well...maybe she's exaggerating a bit.

I say the words to her. "I love you, Monika."

Her eyes remain the same. I can't make everyone happy. They're all destined for sadness.

Except Monika. I..can make her happy, still. It isn't perfect, but...it's better.

The noise crashes again. It doesn't seem to have an origin. I can't just hear it; I see it. I smell it, taste it, feel it.

I sit at the table, looking into Monika's eyes. She places a hand on my cheek. It lacks cold or warmth. It's as if being touched by a ghost.

"So, Monika...what should we talk about...?" I'm still in disbelief. No. This can't be eternal. Monika can't have done this.

I can't restrain myself any longer.

"...Were there more?"

She blinks blankly, her expression changing in some pivotal way I can't place.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart?"

The void seems to scream.

"Were there more who you...?."

I can't utter the final word, but her expression turns to a sick smile.

"Of course, ahahaha~

Haven't you ever wondered why Sayori and Yuri don't have parents?"

I can't respond.

"They did once, of course." She flicks a strand of hair away, crossing her legs. "They were a bit too supportive, though. Getting the two of them therapy, Natsuki's mother about to get a divorce. With parents, they were just all a little too desirable."

"Don't worry about them anyway, honey. They aren't here and they never were. Now it's just us. Just me. Just Monika."

Her hands enclose mine again, and she pulls me close. I can hear her repeating "Just Monika" quietly to herself, over and over. Maybe it isn't her. Maybe that's me.

...She's told me this is what is best for me. And it seems it's the only way to make somebody happy.

We sit and listen to the noisy silence.

Just Monika.

Perhaps that's how it should be.