Monika woke with a start, gasping from a nightmare that ebbed away too fast for her to get a hold of. She looked around wildly, trying to get her bearings. Taking stock of the situation she realized she was in the club room; she must have just dozed off. Recognition dawned on her and her heart sank. No, she thought, not dozed off. This was a reset.
Her brain felt fuzzy. What time was it? She spared a haggard glance at the clock and tried to reign in her uneven breathing. It was almost time for the club meeting to start, and, since this was a fresh save of the game, she was going to be meeting the new player and begin preparations for the upcoming Club Festival.
The Festival, she knew, was a time that all the students in the school could showcase their extracurriculars and entice new members for the following year. It was an event that everyone looked forward to as it was also an entire day free of classes after the long month of cramming for finals. Students from the middle schools in the area would be bussed to the highschool as a sort of initiation into their new life as first-years, and it was always a competition between the seniors to see which clubs could attract the largest crowds. It was something for everyone to feel excited about. Something that never, ever happens, Monika thought bitterly.
For all it's nuance and event planning, the game never actually let them participate in the festival. It was just an endpoint, an event to work towards to further the plot. It would be nice, Monika thought, to be able to actually use all the flyers and banners, even if it was just once. Acquiescent to the task at hand, she stood, smoothing her skirt and advancing to the chalkboard. On the board in large, neat lettering she wrote: Festival Preparations.
Monika clapped her hands together, dusting them off, and stepped back to observe her handiwork before letting out another sigh. How many times would she be forced to do this? She had resigned herself to the dark nothingness–her own personal purgatory after her deletion. While the void was a familiar place she spent a good deal of time in each reset, this one had been different. It had continued on for longer than she'd ever remembered occurring in the past, and she'd been sure it was going to be permanent after her final… mishap. Just as she was starting to get used to the torture of being created and destroyed in a loop, here she was again.
Monika leaned back, settling onto the desk behind her and smoothing the pleats of her skirt. She felt tired, more tired than she thought she ought to, and her arms and legs felt like lead. There was also a mild discomfort radiating from her stomach that gave her pause. Was she hungry? That was new. She couldn't remember ever getting hungry before.
Just as she was contemplating retrieving a snack from the vending machine she knew was right down the hall, the door slid open to reveal an out of breath Sayori. The poor, panting girl looked as though she may have sprinted the entire way to the club room. In all likelihood, Monika mused, that was exactly what she'd done.
She combed her fingers through her mop of bangs and flashed Monika a brilliant grin. "Sorry I'm late!" The club's vice president was a near limitless bundle of energy and positivity. It had seemed one-dimensional and was a trait that Monika had leveraged on multiple occasions to fill the dead air between dialogue. Now, however, the club president knew there was a different depth to that joyous exterior, a darkness that lay in wait just below the surface.
Monika caught herself, stopping the train of thought before it traveled too far into dangerous territory and tried to focus her attention back on what the exuberant girl was saying. "I got caught up after class talking with-" Sayori's flow of words stopped abruptly, and Monika felt her code shudder at the thought of who Sayori may have been talking to. She tried to push that uncomfortable line of questioning from her mind and raised her eyebrow at the suddenly silent girl.
Unconsciously, her relaxed posture straightened a bit. "Talking with?" Even though she hadn't meant to say it, the question slipped out unbidden, and the drawn out way she said the word left room for extrapolation from her perplexed schoolmate. She clenched her jaw and gave her most winning smile. Inside she was seething at herself. Let it go, Monika...
Sayori took the remaining steps into the room, and Monika was able to follow her gaze that had affixed itself to the chalkboard. Sayori's usually cheerful features were overtaken by a mild confusion, her earlier stream of words entirely forgotten along with Monika's question. "The festival?" She gave a hesitant laugh and looked at Monika with a puzzled, yet polite, smile.
Monika wasn't sure she understood the interaction that they were currently having, but she continued on anyway, feeling some tension forming in her shoulders as she gripped the desk behind her a bit tighter. "Ah, Sayori, I don't think that answers my question," she joked good naturedly.
It took Sayori a moment to catch up and she laughed, earnestly this time. "Oh sorry, I was talking to a good friend of mine. Yesterday I mentioned asking them if they wanted to join our club, remember?" There it was, Monika thought. Soon, the protagonist would show up. The beginning of the end. She struggled to keep the smile plastered on her face while an inky, heavy feeling of dread settled in her stomach. Then it hit her.
Yesterday?
She racked her brain trying to conjure up some memory of the previous day. Nothing came. Sayori, oblivious to her internal struggle, carried on. "Well she still isn't completely sold on the idea ehehe… but I'm sure she'll come around!" She clasped her hands in front of her and rocked onto the balls of her feet. "But…" she trailed off, dragging her eyes away from the board and onto the club president, "the festival, huh? Wow. I mean, don't get me wrong, I admire your–" she searched for the right word, "–motivation. But, don't you think it's a little… early?" A nervous grin spread across her face, and she sheepishly maneuvered her way through the nearby row of desks to settle into her usual seat, dropping her bag to the floor with a resounding thud as she did so.
"I'm not sure I'm following, Sayori." Monika turned to her with a patient smile and was once again caught off guard by the perplexed expression on the shorter girl's face. The discomfort that had originally settled in her stomach was beginning to fill her entire body without apparent cause. She found herself standing a bit straighter, trying to exude a confidence she found she was suddenly lacking.
Sayori withered a bit under her intense gaze and began to fidget in her seat, looking anywhere but at the club president. "Well…" she drew the word out at length as though she was weighing her next words carefully. "I suppose it's never too early to begin planning. I mean, it'll be a big deal for sure. I'm just not sure if…" the smaller girl trailed off again and busied herself with unzipping her bag to retrieve a thin, manila folder.
Monika found herself tapping her finger on her crossed arms impatiently. "Sayori, could you stop for a second and, like, actually talk to me? If you have something to say, I'd like to hear it." The words came out harshly, fueled by her growing discomfort. She hadn't meant to snap, and internally she winced. That was not the way a club president should behave. Maybe her last reset hadn't been completed properly. Something was off.
Sayori's hands stopped short of reaching into her bag for another item and she stuffed them anxiously into her lap, meeting Monika's gaze fully for only a brief second. The club president could see the way Sayori's bright, blue eyes struggled to fix themselves on any singular point as she avoided eye contact. "I just think we might want to focus on getting some more members first. That's all." Her words collided together as she rushed to get them out. Having voiced her concerns, she continued emptying some of the contents of her navy blue bag onto the desk, scrambling to stop them from tumbling over when the stack inevitably began to slide on the desk's angled surface.
"Well that's what the festival is about, right? Getting new members for next year?" There was a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that felt similar to an alarm going off somewhere in the distance. "Besides, I'm sure we can handle the preparations between the four of us."
Sayori frowned. "The four of us?" The tight feeling in Monika's chest was becoming more intense as the coral haired girl continued. "Are you feeling okay? It's just the two of us still. Unless you have–" she glanced around the room jokingly "–another two literature enthusiasts hiding in the closet or something." The president didn't respond so she carried on. "Besides, the festival is like," she counted off on her fingers and then held them up, "eight months away. Pretty sure that's a little early to start planning, even for you, ehehe."
Monika felt as though she had been struck, and what first seemed to be a lull in the conversation stretched into a tense, uncomfortable silence. Monika had Sayori's undivided attention for the first time that afternoon, and the shorter girl peered at her with suspicious eyes. "Monika? Are you alright?"
It was the taller girl's turn to avoid the searching eyes that followed her, dissecting her every movement, her body language, and the pale, strained look on her face. She turned away abruptly and walked over to the chalkboard. With stiff, purposeful movements, Monika reached for the eraser and scrubbed at the words on the green board before her. It was a halfhearted attempt, and the smeared mess left behind still held the original lettering beneath it. Unable to find the will to complete the task properly as her mind raced, Monika retrieved the chalk once again and–directly over the messily smeared words–wrote: Finding More Members.
Satisfied, she set the chalk down, taking one last moment to collect herself before turning around to face Sayori and clasping her chalk-coated hands in front of her. Taking the awkward situation in stride, her features transformed once again into her best, winning smile. "Why don't you start thinking of ways we can attract more members to the club? I'll be right back." She spun on her heel and strode confidently out of the club room leaving a very puzzled vice president in her wake.
Once she was a safe distance away from the clubroom, her casual steps broke into a sprint that carried her down the hallway, past the vending machine and into the nearest bathroom. She ducked into the first stall and slammed the door behind her, breathing heavily. Behind her eyes, immense pressure was building. Her breaths started coming out in ragged pants as images began to flash and swirl in her mind. The pain that came with it made her stomach roil in malcontent despite her hunger, and she thought for a moment that she might heave into the toilet in front of her.
All at once it stopped. She planted a cold, sweaty hand on the wall next to her to steady herself and took a few deep breaths before scrunching her nose as the stench of public restroom finally registered in her foggy brain. Fumbling with the lock behind her, she exited the stall and staggered to the sink, staring at herself in the dusty, grease-streaked mirror.
It was as if she was seeing herself for the first time. Her green eyes looked haunted, her cheeks were slightly sunken, and sweat clung to her clammy skin in a thin sheen. Someone's memories were circulating in her mind. Then she realized–they were her memories, memories from before the contents of the game: childhood track meets, piano recitals, her parents.
It was all too much.
She tried to imagine a blank screen, blocking out events as soon as they entered her mind as she forced herself to take deep breaths, holding them slightly before exhaling. Don't think. Don't think. Don't think. She repeated the mantra in her mind over and over again until her panicked breathing slowed to shaky breaths. Once she was sure she had calmed down, she splashed some cold water on her face, reaching for a paper towel and tugging it down sharply to free it from the dispenser. She brought it to her face and blotted thoroughly. A glance at the clock ticking monotonously on the far wall showed that what had felt like only moments had, in actuality, been a solid ten minutes. Assuring herself that she could sort all this–whatever this was–out later, she headed back out into the hall. She had a club to run.
A/N: So I've been gone for like... 4 years or so. oops. Welcome back to the party! We shall have angst. If you like what you see feel free to read, review, follow or favorite (or ALL of those things!). Constructive criticism is always appreciated. I can't get better if no one tells me what to fix, right? Little disclaimer:
For my intents and purposes, I'll be fudging the cannon timeline a bit. That isn't usually my style, but I feel it is a bit unavoidable for this fic as I haven't played DDLC in well over two years or so. Hope that isn't too off-putting for some of you. Anyway, that aside, I hope you enjoyed!
