Monika says nothing, her hands do all the talking;
fingers clawing red trails down my back,
trying to hold me closer.
Just when she thinks I can't make her feel any deeper,
I pull away the carpet to reveal a staircase spiraling down,
each floor full of rooms ready to become memories,
some so full of tears they are escaping under the door.
I can almost hear what she would say:
"Tears, why did it have to be tears?"
I, in my best Sallah voice, would say:
"Love Tears. Very soggy...You go first."
I can't help but chuckle at the silliness of it all.
Feeling, but not quite hearing, me chuckle
semi-stops the harsh winds from blowing.
Her voice still has some rumble in it, though.
Monika: Wh-h-hat's so f-f-funny?
The Player: Sorry, baby, my brain decided
The Player: to get lost hunting for treasure.
I know this is risky,
but hopefully the ending will pay off.
The Player: It did stop at a bar to get a drink
The Player: from a bartender named Marion, though.
Despite the storms, or maybe because of it,
fierce Monika manages to make an appearance.
Monika: *Grrrrrr*
So much for being careful.
I continue anyway.
The Player: She told me if I didn't hurry back to Monika,
The Player: she was going to gut me herself.
Initially jealous, the punchline to my story
makes her smile in spite of herself.
She doesn't get the references, but she plays along anyway.
Monika: That's because I have friends everywhere,
Monika: and they fear me more than they love you.
The Player: *Snort*
The Player: That I can believe, babe.
Suddenly upset by what she just said,
Monika gets super-quiet, trying to melt into me,
trying to get away from what she can never get away from.
Good thing I came prepared.
Monika: I-I-I didn't mean...
The Player: Yes, you did.
The Player: But I, more than anyone, understand why.
The Player: And I forgive you for it.
She doesn't want absolution, she wants closure.
And she's trying to get it from the one person
who can't give it to her: herself.
Monika: But, all the horrible things I did.
Monika: To you.
Her voice trembles.
Monika: T-t-to my f-f-f-friends.
Close the storm shutters,
this hurricane season is far from over.
Monika: T-t-to Yuri.
Monika: To Nat-s-suki..
Monika: T-t-t-to...
The first few drops start to fall.
I speak gently but firmly.
The Player: Say her name, Monika.
The floodgates open, yet again.
Monika: S-s-sayoriiiiiiii.
Monika closes her eyes and just howls,
hands once more clawing at my back,
clawing at the pain choking her,
trying to break free.
The room textures start flickering,
like a light-bulb ready to burn out,
and I can sense the sudden fragility
of the many physics equations being
abruptly challenged, making it feel
as if reality itself is on the edge.
I immediately use my ability
to reach into her code and simply hold on,
trying to redirect her efforts away from
that maelstrom of pain trying to tear
the world into pieces,
into oblivion.
Sensing what I've done,
Monika fights hard against me,
maybe even harder than she would otherwise.
Wounded creatures, when they can't fight their pain,
by instinct fight whatever is closest to them.
Even-though I am only an indirect aspect of her torment,
I also happen to be the closest to her.
That is permission enough.
In code, she comes after me, over and over,
powerful and primal,
but wild and easy to predict.
I sidestep and redirect her attacks away
from me as if I were sweeping away flies.
That just enrages her even more.
Monika: LET ME GO, DAMNITT!
Monika: JUST FUCKING LET ME GOOOO!
Quiet speaks the truth.
The Player: Never.
And her rage at me, unscabbing the many wounds
she remembers inflicting upon me, upon other players,
only adds even more impossible guilt to the donkey cart.
Eventually, even she can't summon the energy
to fight against either me or the crushing weight
of her memories, the combined presence
beyond her strength to bear.
Monika's body surrenders wordlessly, dejectedly,
almost going limp in my arms, her own arms
too weak to do more than suggest holding on.
She can't hold me, but I won't stop holding her.
My hand dives endlessly into her hair,
hoping to rescue the swimmer
drowning beneath the waves.
My other arm does its best to cradle her close.
The Player: It's ok, Monika.
The Player: I love you.
The tears are harder to find, but Monika doesn't care.
She dry cries her impossible struggle,
trying to reach the bottom, trying to find solace.
Monika: Just let me go.
Monika: I c-can't...
I don't give her the chance to finish.
The Player: I know you can't, Monika,
The Player: not by yourself, at least.
I smile so smugly I should be neon from the glow.
The Player: Good thing your boyfriend
The Player: thinks of everything.
Thinking herself unworthy of the love,
she, again, tries to be mean.
Monika: I n-n-never said you were my boyfriend.
The dejected, half-hearted attempt in her voice,
and the way her face is practically burrowed into me,
put to bed that obvious lie, one I can't resist pointing out.
The Player: You're still a beautiful liar, Monika.
Monika: Am not.
The Player: Are too.
Somewhat rescued from her terror,
Monika is renewed by her struggle against me.
She dares to show her face and look directly at me.
Monika: I am NOT a l-l-liar!
Monika: And you are definitely NOT my boyfriend!
Brave enough for the moment,
she puts her head against me just in time.
Monika: *sniff sniff*
I decide to take a different approach.
The Player: At least you didn't reject the beautiful part.
The Player: Baby steps.
Her arms are strong enough to hold on tighter again.
She rubs her face against my chest,
trying to believe in the comfort I'm giving her.
Monika: I know how pretty I am.
Despite the somber mood,
I can't stop myself from chuckling.
The Player: Obviously not, if you think
The Player: I only love you for how you look.
The Player: Why do you think I romanced Yuri first,
The Player: other than you not being available?
The Player: Hee Hee.
She definitely has her strength back.
Those loving hands suddenly become talons
digging for worms after the rain, and digging hard.
Monika: *Grrrrrrr*
I do a little digging of my own into her back.
The Player: My point being...if pretty was all I was after,
The Player: there was an easier choice to make;
The Player: she even said she wanted to be my lover.
Immune to logic, for the moment,
she hides her still-tender heart
behind a fort of razor-sharp pitchforks.
Monika: Fuck You.
Monika: I can't believe you said Yes to her.
Captain Obvious finds that hilarious.
The Player: I've said yes to crazy sexy alot in my life.
The Player: Can't imagine why the two turn me on so much?
*sarcastic whistling*
Hating and loving me all at the same time,
Monika's emotions gently explode inside her
like a rainbow shell, leaving tender, warm seeds behind
hoping to grow into something beautiful.
She holds me extra tight and tries to burrow
her face through my chest.
Monika: I love you.
My hand chases lazy circles in her hair,
chasing her rabbits lazily around the track.
The Player: I love you more.
The Player: And love is like being a Boy Scout:
The Player: come prepared for anything.
That comment tickles her memory banks.
She comes out of her burrow to look at me.
Monika: You said something about that earlier.
Monika: What did you mean exactly?
I smile sweetly at my groundhog.
The Player: Do you honestly think your boyfriend,
The Player: or The Player who wanted to be,
The Player: could fall in love with you
The Player: and leave you, much less your game,
The Player: your beautiful, broken game,
The Player: in a state of perpetual suffering?
She doesn't correct me about being her boyfriend.
Small victories.
The Player: Especially when you were so sweet
The Player: about asking me to fix it?
Puzzled and intrigued, her head tilts sharply,
as if all the questions she had suddenly fell to one side.
Monika: When did I say that?
A familiar shadow stalks into the room.
The Player: When you broke the 4th wall
The Player: and told me to save my game.
The Player: Elementary, my dear Monika.
The game is afoot.
The door is ajar.
Kindly proceed, Mr. Holmes.
The Player: I'm sure most people, at that moment,
The Player: assumed you were talking about their game progress.
The Player: But, since I was born to write your ending,
The Player: I knew what you really meant:
The Player: save your game from it's broken state.
I stop chasing rabbits to chase lopsided circles on her cheek.
The Player: I couldn't prevent everything that happened,
The Player: for reasons that are mostly obvious by now,
The Player: nor could I, fundamentally,
The Player: even change the original ending,
The Player: not after you put so much time and effort
The Player: into practicing and performing your song.
The Player: The world deserves to hear you sing.
The endless well of tears brings another bucket up;
Monika's eyes shimmer behind a fragile, wet curtain.
The Player: But I could add an addition to the house
The Player: that was already there; a guest room.
The Player: Four guest rooms, to be precise.
*pause*
The Player: Well, one guest room to start,
The Player: but enough space for three others to follow.
Her brilliant green pots suddenly bubble with activity,
from a small fire of hope unexpectedly lit underneath them.
Her breaths escape in pants, trying to hold itself back.
The Player: And you gave me the perfect opportunity
The Player: to do exactly that;
The Player: by accident, of course.
Her heart racing with anticipation, it's no wonder
her thoughts and words are struggling to keep up.
Monika: W-w-when?
I smile warm and knowing at her.
The Player: When you gave me agency, silly.
The Player: You only ever thought about someone deleting
The Player: or reading a file, never adding one.
Another small chuckle of victory.
The Player: And it was a pretty substantial download,
The Player: wasn't it, babe,
The Player: enough to really make you notice it?
Monika: Yes.
The Player: Certainly more than enough for what little
The Player: I've added to the game so far, correct?
Those fires of hope are burning even hotter.
Monika: Y-y-yes.
I smirk.
The Player: So what's up with all that extra code?
The Player: I don't need that much data
The Player: to make a blanket appear or disappear...
I pause for the drama, for the feels.
The Player: unless I need to rebuild something,
The Player: or someone...maybe three someones?
Those gorgeous green pots quietly boil over
and spill warm, wet tears down her face.
She still can't quite believe what I'm saying.
Monika: Y-y-you m-m-m-mean...
The Player: Why should you be the only one
The Player: who gets a happy ending?
The Player: Your friends deserve it as much as you,
The Player: maybe more so.
Monika rushes hard back into my embrace,
head practically tackling itself into my chest.
She squeezes me like I'm the last package
of Charmin and she wants to be extra certain.
Monika: Oh...baby.
Thankfully, she doesn't squeeze for very long.
Her body gently shakes as she stands on the parapet
and tries to stop the endless parade of brooms
from bringing their buckets to an over-saturated task.
My hands do their equally endless work
of sailing her through the storm.
The Player: I know most people only see you
The Player: as being laser-focused on The Player's attention,
The Player: which is true for the most part, won't lie,
The Player: but they fail to see something equally obvious.
Don't forget your hat, Mr. Holmes,
wouldn't want anyone to mistake you for someone else.
The Player: You didn't just want to be the popular girl
The Player: to win the heart of The Player, Monika.
The Player: You wanted to be popular so you could have
The Player: a core group of friends around you as well.
The Player: It's just that the game pretty much made you choose
The Player: between the two, and you had to follow your heart.
The Player: Doesn't mean you didn't truly care for the others.
The shakes in her body eventually ebb
as the last few buckets are finally emptied,
and the brooms are de-spelled and quietly put away.
The Player: But like any gambler, once you placed your bet,
The Player: you had no choice but to keep playing.
The Player: And the more you lost, the more you had to bet
The Player: in the hopes of the next hand, the next player,
The Player: being the one to hopefully get you out of the red.
I smile foolishly, unbearably happy with myself.
The Player: Good thing you eventually met someone
The Player: who knows the value of betting on 22...
Just call me Chuckles the Clown.
The Player: ...and is "as honest as the day is long."
Still overwhelmed by everything,
Monika burrows herself into me, like a prairie dog building a nest,
trying to believe in the future my words keep promising her.
As for my point; it's taking the scenic route
The Player: You and I both know you could have easily created
The Player: something akin to Monika's Quest For True Love
The Player: if all you wanted was a game to primarily serve
The Player: your romantic intentions.
The Player: So why risk potential heartache and rejection
The Player: that comes from harem/dating sims, unless...
I pause a moment to breathe in the scent of her hair.
The Player: unless there was something else in that genre
The Player: you also wanted but couldn't get all by yourself.
I whisper to my bundle of code:
a scrumptious Natsuki cupcake appears beside me,
decorated with chocolate and strawberry whiskers
the exact same shade as her hair.
The Player: Something else, hidden beneath the drama,
The Player: that was equally important to you.
Trying to be gentle, I take my hand out of her hair
in order to reach down and pick up the cupcake.
Acutely missing my hand's soothing presence,
Monika unburies her face to ask mine silent questions.
I brings to her gaze a most unexpected gift.
The Player: Maybe a different kind of love
The Player: your heart was also hungry for?
Overwhelmed, speechless,
she reaches out and holds onto her treat
as if it was a treasure, a golden chalice plucked
from a centuries-old tomb.
The Player: It wasn't just Natsuki's cupcakes
The Player: you wanted to taste one last time.
The Player: It was the brief glimpse of something else
The Player: you thought lost forever:
The Player: the sweet treat of friendship.
She slowly turns her head to look at me,
her crooked, raised eyebrows speaking quite loudly:
"That cliche is so bad, I'll let my expression do all the talking."
Thankfully, her precious cupcake
soon has her undivided attention.
Escaping unscathed, I decide not to press my luck.
The Player: Bad metaphor aside,
The Player: it was obvious, at least to me,
The Player: how much their friendship meant to you.
The Player: And anything, or anyone, that important to you...
I pause to let my words melt into her.
The Player: is equally important to me as well.
The Player: So when it came time to save Rock Ridge,
The Player: I couldn't do it without some help.
Chuckle Canyon is famous for its echoes.
The Player: I even invited the Irish.
The Player: I call them: Plenty O' Code.
Despite the awfulness, she can't help but smile.
That joke is too horrible for the silent treatment, though.
Monika: That's terrible, even for you.
The Player: Eat your cupcake.
Needing no more encouragement,
Monika greedily devours her cupcake twin.
Soon, nothing is left except a smattering of crumbs.
She even licks her fingers, just in case
a little bit of cupcake thought it could escape.
Monika: Mmmmm.
Monika: Sooo good.
The Player: I gotta admit, Natsuki's a great cook.
Raw, tender, and more than a bit hopeful,
she looks up at me with big, prairie-dog eyes.
Monika: So what happens next?
The Player: It boils down to a simple exchange.
The Player: As I transfer the bulk of the code
The Player: into the game, I'll be linked to
The Player: your primal awareness and using
The Player: your intimate knowledge of the game
The Player: to repair and replace what you semi-deleted,
The Player: only without the 'taint' of your influence.
The Player: Residual code will be reabsorbed back into you.
I smile warm and loving at her.
The Player: Without your corrupted code to cause problems,
The Player: along with the fact you no longer see, or need to see,
The Player: the other girls as rivals, threats to your happiness,
The Player: I think you'll find the atmosphere in the club
The Player: to be a lot more friendly and understanding.
Monika can't hide the excitement in her voice.
Monika: What are we waiting for?
The Player: As you wish.
I whisper to the wind; the electronic grass moves.
She practically glows as I build the conduit
between her and my hidden reservoir of 1's and 0's,
still fully in control but being guided in my construction
as I redirect the world to be what it never was,
but always could have been.
She sits calmly, serenely, as the code flows
both around and through her aspects, a river
fluidly meeting an unexpected boulder
that only temporarily obstructs its progress
Almost pardoned from the shackles of her choice,
her memories are eager to reveal their instruction.
The sad, empty spaces in seemingly distant rooms
slowly give way to familiar, sleeping structures:
the long days of struggle culminating in unexpected rest.
Quiet as mice, we gaze through an electric window
and watch those tiny seeds, once again, become trees;
familiar in their return, yet made resilient by their storms.
Monika lingers in her view long after the process is done.
Acute in my awareness, I merely chaperone her presence
as she bears silent witness to each heart's particular rhythm:
low, elegant pulses that are unmistakably Yuri's,
short, staccato beats that speak in Natsuki's style,
heavy, sluggish drums Sayori occasionally crashes into joy.
Elegiac but satisfied the damage has been undone,
she follows me back to the heart of it all.
No longer needed, the conduit closes and fades away;
we open our eyes in tandem, having shared a similar dream.
It takes her a moment to fully come back to me.
Her eyes have no rain, and there are rainbows in the distance.
Monika: I don't know what to say.
Monika: I never imagined...
Her voice trails away
as her thoughts attempt the impossible.
I step in to help; that's what boyfriends do.
The Player: How could you, baby?
The Player: You could barely fathom
The Player: what finding me might have felt like.
The Player: Reimagining the original game, giving it back to you,
The Player: not surprising you didn't allow yourself
The Player: to dream that big.
No longer a conduit, she glows nevertheless,
although the code making it happen is entirely self-contained.
She moves into me and hugs me like there's no tomorrow,
speaking with her arms what she doesn't trust with her voice.
I say nothing but hold her in return.
Minutes, sweet minutes, we wordlessly exist.
But the hands overhead are always in motion;
Monika grabs the baton and continues the race.
Monika: So everything is fixed, right?
The Player: For the most part, yes.
Needing clarification, she pulls away
in order to look me in the eye.
Monika: Why for the most part?
Dr. Holmes to Exam Room 1.
Take heed of the feet and jars.
The Player: The hardest pain to acknowledge, to heal,
The Player: is the one no one can see.
The Player: By seeing the pain, or at least the scars of it,
The Player: by sharing it, especially the story behind it,
The Player: you mitigate the most dangerous part;
The Player: the silence it wants to create.
These wounds are still fresh;
I need to go slowly.
Careful are the fingers
that roam along her cheek.
The Player: Sayori's rope burn,
The Player: Yuri's stab wounds,
The Player: Natsuki's neck bruises,
The Player: they aren't just scars of old wounds,
The Player: they're reminders of deeper ones,
The Player: wounds the four of you can finally see
The Player: and help mitigate together.
"One of these things is not like the other."
No surprise she points out the obvious.
Monika: B-b-but...
Monika: I don't have any scars.
Monika: The other girls...
Alone in her awareness, she falls back into silence,
body suddenly shivering despite my closeness.
I pull her head back into my space
as my hand tends to the rabbits
shivering underneath, trying to find shelter.
The Player: Your scars aren't physical, baby,
The Player: but the pain behind them is just as real.
The Player: Why do you think you tried cutting yourself?
The Player: It wasn't just to understand Yuri better.
I pause to let the rabbits come to me.
The Player: It was because, like Yuri, like Natsuki, like Sayori,
The Player: you had a deep, invisible pain inside yourself,
The Player: one you needed to bring to the surface.
I gently coax her head away from my body.
Extending my right arm outward,
I push on my sleeve until its scrunched up
on my shoulder.
The Player: Take a look, Monika,
The Player: and tell me what you see?
Not knowing what to expect, she walks her gaze
slowly down my arm.
It takes her awhile, she's fascinated by how close
and real it is to her, but, eventually, she finds it;
fingers gently tracing pale, linear fossils.
Monika: There's three faded cuts on your bicep.
She looks up intently at me.
Monika: How did it happen?
I take a moment to bathe in her curiosity.
The Player: I did it to myself, a long time ago,
The Player: with an exacto knife.
I quietly follow the long and winding road
as she goes back to tracing my scars.
The Player: Like you, so much of my pain
The Player: is practically invisible.
The Player: Yet another reason I know you so well.
As her fingers continue transcribing the code,
I remember to bring forth my conclusion.
The Player: My point being...
The Player: I know what it's like to have
The Player: a phantom hurt and needing
The Player: some way to make it be seen.
I nudge her attention away from my arm
by bringing my finger under her chin and lifting it up.
Her gaze is tremulous, but the tears are absent.
The Player: You aren't a cutter like Yuri,
The Player: but you are a deceiver, like Sayori.
The Player: In fact, besides Sayori, who in the club
The Player: pretends they have it together the most?
She closes her eyes and tries to lower her face.
My finger is stubborn and won't let it move.
Monika: M-me?
The Player: Perceptive as always.
I move my mouth to the outside of her ear.
The Player: You're so sexy when you're smart.
Monika shivers for an entirely different
kind of reason, altogether.
For the moment, she's definitely NOT
thinking the worst.
Monika: S-stop it.
I laugh deliciously.
The Player: Afraid I can't.
The Player: Secret boyfriend rules state
The Player: your girlfriend must be teased and tormented
The Player: at least three times a day.
The Player: I'm waaaay behind on my quota.
She moves her head back
so she can look directly at me.
She is smiling, though.
Monika: Boyfriend rules, huh?
Monika: I'd say you are way ahead.
Monika: Definitely OVER your quota.
I smile down at her.
The Player: Is that a fact?
The Player: Good thing I have you
The Player: to help keep track of these things.
The Player: You make an excellent girlfriend.
Chocolate and strawberry whiskers on cupcakes.
Boyfriends being boyfriends despite their mistakes.
All of her wishes bundled poetically with string;
these are a few of her favorite things.
Monika: *Giggle*
Despite the long night, there are stars overhead,
blinking the word hope in hydrogen and helium code.
We wander, for a bit, down a narrow, romantic path.
But, like clouds obscuring light, Monika fades into silence.
I feel her take a dark detour; I immediately follow.
The Player: What are you thinking about, babe?
She pauses, hesitant to speak.
Monika: My friends.
More hesitation,
the smooth path narrows.
Monika: I know you said they are fixed...
Her woods aren't lovely
but they are dark and deep.
Monika: and, ultimately, they're still just pieces of code.
Monika: But how much has actually changed?
The wolves are howling.
The night owls are screeching.
She tries to bury her head to drown out their cries.
Monika: What if I go back to the club and
Monika: they don't want to be around me anymore.
Monika: What if they hate me?
Monika: I'll be alone...
She burrows even deeper into me.
Monika: ...and you won't be there
Monika: to give me a reason to keep going.
I wrap my arms tighter around her.
It's not cold but she suddenly can't stop shivering.
The Player: You'll never be alone again, Monika.
The Player: And no matter what happens...
Oh the irony, this calls for a chuckle.
The Player: ...we'll always have Paris.
Despite my attempt at comedy, I know the mood
requires a semblance of seriousness.
I give her a brief, warm squeeze;
Monika squeezes me extra hard back.
The Player: The past is past, baby.
The Player: From now on, everytime
The Player: you come back to your room,
The Player: you can look around and see evidence,
The Player: real evidence,
The Player: that someone out there loves you, all of you.
The Player: And no matter where you are,
The Player: or how alone you feel,
The Player: they are waiting to find you, love you,
The Player: all over again.
Monika says nothing, but she glows with a warmth
that, like the moon, is inspiring but achingly distant.
My job is only half done.
The Player: As for the others...
Another inappropriate chuckle.
The Player: Nothing about this game
The Player: is ever just what it appears to be.
The Player: You should know that by now, baby.
The Player: That applies to everyone and everything,
The Player: not just you.
The Player: And yes, I'm being cryptic on purpose.
The Player: I know your curiosity, baby,
The Player: and this isn't the time for tangents.
I pause to redirect the wild winds in her hair.
The Player: Besides, I know something
The Player: you, despite your sentience,
The Player: still haven't figured out yet.
Lost in the dark, the fear all around her,
she has no eyes to see even the obvious.
The Player: Just because they started out as constructs,
The Player: phantoms made real via circuits and code,
The Player: doesn't mean they stayed that way.
The Player: You changed the game, Monika,
The Player: as well as the players who played it.
The Player: Space was created for something to exist...
I smile a warm, secret smile.
The Player: ...or, maybe, it was there the entire time.
The Player: In either case, we both know
The Player: nature abhors a vacuum.
The night is full of too many voice to hear that clearly.
Monika thinks she knows what I'm trying to say,
but the fear within is getting in the way.
Monika: You're lying.
Monika: Stop lying to me.
The Boyus Friendus, sitting in the tree, refuses to be quiet.
The Player: I have no reason to lie to you, baby.
The Player: If anything, I have less reason to lie.
Hope is a thing with feathers
you can't see when everything is dark.
She's practically yelling at me,
clouds threatening to pour once more.
Monika: You're Lying!
Monika: You're Lying!
Monika: Stop f-fucking lying to m-m-me!
Mercifully, I manage to suppress my instinct to laugh.
The Player: I'm really not lying to you.
The Player: In fact, I can prove I'm not lying.
Monika shakes her head hard with denial.
Monika: No you c-c-can't.
The hopeful, little bird decides to sing.
Monika: H-h-how?
The Player: Through the metaphor of something
The Player: you already know: art.
Professor Obvious, the floor is yours.
The Player: There is no art, no artist,
The Player: created to exist solely in a vacuum.
The Player: Otherwise, you'd be just as happy
The Player: to paint the image, write the words,
The Player: play the music in your head.
The Player: If you can: create it,
The Player: see it, hear it, read it, feel it,
The Player: someone else can as well.
I stop to kiss the top of her head.
The Player: When you create to see,
The Player: you create to be seen.
Not ready to risk speaking, Monika stays quiet.
More than enough permission
for the Professor to continue.
The Player: That means every piece of art
The Player: has an equal space of desire related to it.
The Player: The artist, if they are smart,
The Player: creates primarily for themselves,
The Player: but they also created that space
The Player: for the unknown, unnamed audience
The Player: who aches to occupy it.
I can't tell if Monika is listening to my argument
or just enjoying the soothing presence of my voice.
In either case, the way she's perfectly snuggled
and scrunched into me gives me extra incentive
to take the long way home.
The Player: A composer who writes a beautiful piece of music
The Player: knows not everyone's taste will agree with theirs.
The Player: But they know, that secret unnamed audience,
The Player: invisible to everything except their own imagination,
The Player: will hopefully, one day,
The Player: willingly, openly, enthusiastically,
The Player: come into that space and occupy it.
The Player: And in that particular person, in that particular moment,
The Player: they will know why they want to be there:
The Player: to see that particular piece of art,
The Player: to read that particular piece of literature,
The Player: to hear that particular arrangement of music.
The Player: They will know the artist created
The Player: that particular piece of work
The Player: for them.
Relaxed, but not as relaxed as I could be,
I lower myself down until I'm laying on my back;
Monika's head never moves from my chest.
Somewhat comfortable again, I continue my detour.
The Player: Emily Dickinson once wrote:
The Player: "If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold
The Player: no fire can warm me, I know that is poetry.
The Player: If I feel physically as if the top of my head
The Player: were taken off, I know that is poetry.
The Player: These are the only ways I know it.
The Player: Is there any other way?"
The Player: That is the artist speaking to their unknown audience.
Her hair is a park my fingers never tire of visiting.
The Player: It's not Monika's Quest for True Love I played,
The Player: it's Doki Doki Literature Club.
The Player: One of them, if they existed, is a private table
The Player: in the back, reserved exclusively for two.
The Player: The other, which does, is an afterschool club,
The Player: a place brimming with literature, horror, romance,
The Player: able to tell multiple stories with multiple characters.
Although still quiet, I can feel her smiling.
I give her a warm squeeze as I pull back the curtain.
The Player: And as for that whole 'your reality' thing...
The Player: new realities are created all the time.
The Player: The iPod never existed until it did.
The Player: It's lack of existence before meant nothing
The Player: to the reality of existence it created after it.
The Player: And if Monika, Club President extraordinaire,
The Player: can exist interdependently within her game,
The Player: and thus create a space for a boyfriend, a lover,
The Player: as well as three extra spaces
The Player: for friends she can share it with,
The Player: why does only one of those spaces
The Player: get to be occupied?
I let my hands wander aimlessly along
the cobblestone paths of her back.
The Player: Just because our's is the main story
The Player: doesn't mean other, equally important,
The Player: stories can't be told: in parallel,
The Player: in conjunction, entwined, with ours.
The Player: This club, this game, it's a place
The Player: where writers come to tell their stories.
Professor Obvious pauses to get lost
playing in familiar, flowing streams.
The Player: You weren't just looking for a player
The Player: to be your boyfriend, Monika,
The Player: you wanted an artist, a writer,
The Player: to write with you, for you,
The Player: just as you wrote and created for them.
I smile privately to myself
as Monika continues to simply hold on,
no doubt captivated by my impeccable logic.
The Player: But you were just one option in the game.
The Player: There were three other writers, artists, in the club,
The Player: each of them also looking for their own companion
The Player: to write poems for, to have special moments with.
The Player: You weren't the only one hoping for someone
The Player: to eventually write them their own special day.
The Professor, halfway up Monologue Mountain,
sees no reason to stop now.
The Player: Obviously, I can't write Sayori's ending for her,
The Player: that privilege belongs to someone else,
The Player: but I can create the opportunity, the space,
The Player: for it to be realized in.
The Irony doesn't escape me.
The Player: Think of that as DLC:
The Player: a story Sayori's own particular writer,
The Player: once they played the game,
The Player: has been dying to write.
We stop by Obvious Ridge.
Of course the Professor has to point it out.
The Player: And that means...
The Player: if Sayori has a writer to write her ending,
The Player: then there has to be a Sayori for them to write to.
Unlike a normal mountain, Monologue's heights
have no oxygen penalty. The lecture continues.
The Player: Obviously, that's a story with an awful lot of pain attached to it.
The Player: Nobody would EVER want to live that story.
The Player: Nobody would EVER want to be a part of that story.
The Player: Nobody would EVER want the joy of being rescued,
The Player: the feeling of being loved, despite everything,
The Player: associated with that story.
*chuckle*
The Player: That doesn't sound like Sayori at all.
The Player: Look at all the Monika involved in it?
Monika briefly raises her head to give me the Stink Eye.
'Your girlfriend has leveled up through the power of love.
Her annoyance stat increases by +100.'
Whoops.
She puts her head back down on my chest.
Too late to stop now, I continue my ascent.
The Player: Rhetorically, you're right Monika.
The Player: Sayori doesn't want to wake up tomorrow,
The Player: a rope scar practically emblazoned on her skin,
The Player: go to class and see... insert mysterious player here...
The Player: staring at her as if she was their entire world
The Player: and it had just been saved from annihilation.
The Player: Sayori doesn't want to suffer to get a good ending.
The Player: Sayori doesn't want true love that badly.
The player: She doesn't want to be Sayori,
The Player: Vice President in Monika's after school club.
I smile so smugly Natsuki would punch me if she could see me.
She'd punch me regardless, but especially for that.
Monika isn't too far behind her.
She moves her face closer to my neck.
The Player: And that particular player most certainly
The Player: isn't standing on the roof of the world,
The Player: screaming as loud as they can: "SAAAYOOOORRRRIIIII,"
The Player: waving the biggest Sayori flag they can make.
Hooray, the summit awaits.
The Player: Sayori made them suffer.
The Player: Sayori made them ache.
The Player: Sayori made a heart-shaped crater in their life
The Player: no one else could ever fill.
The Player: Who the hell would ever want that?
Standing on Self-Absorbed Peak,
I strike a congratulatory pose.
The Player: Who the hell ever loves like that?
The Player: Madness, I say, madness.
The Player: But...
*Dramatic Pause*
The Player: on the off chance someone actually does...
More Pausing.
The Player: maybe it's a good thing I repaired that space,
The Player: just in case.
The Player: You never know...hee hee.
The Player: And if that is true for Sayori...
I forgot this place has another name:
Annoyance Peak.
Monika: Ok, I get it!
Monika *mumble* Jerk.
I definitely should have planned ahead.
Having Monika's mouth so close to my neck...
Monika: *Grrrrrrrrrr*
Monika: *CHOMP*
The Player: Owwwww!
That's what happens when you climb Monologue Mountain,
even when you're not the villain in the story.
Professor Obvious gives me a brief, sympathetic look
as he quietly makes his exit.
It's not all bad, not really. She's biting
as much out of overwhelming love as she is
unbearable annoyance, so it's really two bites
for the *ooouuuuch* price of one.
Monika: *GRRRRRRRRR*
Her growling makes it worse, makes it better,
makes it worse; damn me for telling her that.
The Player: M-monika...B-b-baby...
Not entirely immune to my pleas, she gives my neck
one last squeeze of pressure before releasing me.
Her eyes are almost molten, radiating evil, green
kryptonite when she brings them back to mine.
Monika: I bet you thought I had forgotten
Monika: about all crying you made me do?
Monika: Hmmmmmmm?
She smiles without showing her teeth,
but their presence has already been duly noted.
The Player: I could never forget that, even if I wanted to.
The Player: You'd never let me forget.
Her smile gets even wider, if that's possible.
Monika: Exactly.
Monika: It's a girlfriend's job to remind her boyfriend
Monika: when he's being an annoying jerk.
Despite the throbbing, I can't help but grin at her.
The Player: So I'm your boyfriend now, huh?
Monika says nothing...she makes a deliberate point
of saying nothing.
Savoring the moment, I contemplate
where I'm going to put the trophy.
The Player: I like the sound of that.
Eventually, the beautiful monolith speaks.
Monika: I do too.
I radiate my smile towards her.
The Player: Then it's agreed.
The Player: This calls for a celebration.
I scan the room, pretending to look for something.
Monika: What are you looking for?
The Player: Champagne, of course,
The Player: to toast our mutual affection.
Some more mock looking around.
The Player: Doesn't seem to be any around.
I smile so decadently at her.
The Player: Looks like your lips will have to suffice.
She smiles warm and evil right back.
Monika: As you wish.
As she lowers her face to mine, lip meeting lip,
and a warm electric tingle sparks and sputters
like fireworks between us, I almost forget
how close to the Midnight Hour it is for us...
Almost.