We revolved around our discomfort like the sun and moon.

When she came too close, I'd reflect her fake positive attitude, and it would've been believable if I wasn't so cold and monotonous.

Anytime I felt the courage to be around her—to hope and fool us into some lasting peace before the day I left—I would be burned by her scornful eyes, ignoring the false gleaming smile that everything was okay.

It was a cycle that became more and more toxic as time went on that day.

I kept my phone with me at all times, receiving messages sporadically of Frieda telling me when she got on the plane, landed, layover, and more. It'd be until tomorrow before I saw her.

Ymir and I danced, never staying in the same vicinity of each other—an impressive feat given that we were in a studio loft. We did it so gracefully that it'd almost seem like we weren't even despairing.

By night, though, I was fed up with Ymir's sugarcoated small talk, knowing she wasn't saying what was on her mind, and she was far too gone. As the moon was found high in the sky, Ymir was last seen at the bottom of the bottle.

"Fuck," she whispered. "What the fuck did I do, huh?"

I feigned that I didn't hear, hoping it'd be rhetorical or she'd give up entirely.

"It's getting pretty late," I spoke, "maybe we should go to bed."

"Huh, yeah, I would, but it's sort of fucking uncomfortable living in a cage, huh?" She sat in front of her easel, guarding it from me, glaring at me over her shoulder.

I wouldn't take the bait.

"You drank a lot, Ymir, maybe you should rest. You'll be hurting in the morning." I reasoned, walking over to her and she scoffed, sneering at me.

"Don't fucking patronize me." She kept sitting where she was like a bitter child.

"Here, come look at this shitty painting. It's fucking done," I stopped near her, staring down at her.

"I don't want to look at it now. Not when you're like this."

"Why not? You fucking stayed long enough for it, right? Here, look at it, now, I demand it," she jabbed her paintbrush at the painting.

"No. I won't, Ymir."

"Do it," Ymir demanded, "and stop hiding your emotions. It's fucking pathetic."

She ripped my mask away and I seethed at her, glancing at the drawing. My glare faltered.

There I was—smiling over my shoulder, bare except for an apron on, dimples at the corners of my mouth, but it was still depressing.

Who knew how you could make a happy person lonely, or was it that I knew I wasn't happy?

Was I happy at that time?

"There, now you either take it or it will just go in the closet," Ymir was unabashed as she slurred her words, adding extra salt to the opening wound.

"Why are you acting like this?" Stupid question.

"What the fuck, are you for real? You come into my fucking life, give me inspiration, act like you want to be with me, and, then, you suddenly never liked it? I'm fucking acting hurt!" Got a stupid answer.

Stupid that I even asked rather than her answer being untrue.

"I was scared," I felt angry because she was tearing into me—she was doing it with no remorse as she stood up, towering over me, showing me that she could hurt me if she wanted—no, she wouldn't do that. Not all people were like that.

"Scared? Scared!? I did nothing to hurt you! I rolled with your punches! I fucking let you into my house without worry! I gave you food and helped you out! I fucking—we fucking slept together! Why would I sleep with someone if I didn't respect them? Care for them in some way?"

"You don't even know me, Ymir! What's my favorite color!?"

"That doesn't fucking mean shit! I didn't like you for your favorite food or color! I liked you because you were kind—you were fucking understanding! You knew when to give me space instead of suffocating me! I thought you understood without even fucking talking! Do you know how much that means to me!?"

"You only care that I gave you something!" I shut my eyes, ready for the impact of a slap or even punch in my face for speaking my mind. "Ymir, you only cared about yourself! Did you ever once ask how I felt? Did you ever wonder why I moved in on such short notice? Do you think someone like me just lets a stranger see them naked!? Do you think I'd really put myself in danger to meet some stranger from Craigslist if I was okay!?"

Ymir just growled.

"Relationships are a give or take! I gave what I thought you'd want, you gave me what I needed! I can't fucking read your mind!"

"You didn't have to, Ymir! You could've just asked! Why didn't you ask?!"

"I didn't know I fucking had to, Historia! I thought you were being honest with me! Why did you have to lie!? Did you even like me—did you even want to sleep with me!? Am I some molester now that I know you didn't want to sleep with me!? What does that make me!? If I knew you didn't want to I wouldn't have done it!"

"You didn't do that wrong—I—I wanted to—but, not like that! You're not a molester!"

"I sure fucking feel like one! Fuck!" Ymir threw her paintbrush at one of her many portraits of men, puncturing and ruining it. "What the fuck!"

"I was scared! I am scared! I don't know what I'm doing, Ymir, but it's just not good right now! I—I like you—"

"So why is there a problem!? Weren't we good enough how it was? What the fuck changed? Did I miss something that was obvious!?"

I couldn't sort my thoughts. All I felt was anger as she glared at me.

"I don't fucking understand you! I thought it was charming at first but now it's just—just a fucking inconvenience!"

Nothing was going to save us.

"Why did you hide your depression from me?" It was all that I could bring up as she tensed up. "I saw the pamphlets, I saw how much you drank, I watched you sip a bottle away day by day, saying it was for your art, but all I see… is you alone and hurt, Ymir. I care for you, but I can't handle not knowing. I can't open up to someone who won't actually communicate with me."

Ymir went right into my face.

"Do. Not. Talk. To. Me." She seethed.

"You are always upset!" I yelled back with fear. "You never let anyone in yet you hurt because you're lonely! You won't let anyone in, Ymir! Not Sasha and now me! Sasha would've loved you if you kept her in!"

I clenched my teeth, holding her attention hostage as her face was melting, growing shakier as bitter tears came into her eyes.

"I said don't talk! I don't want to hear it!" Her shoulders kept shuddered as her hands clutched my shoulders. "Don't fucking tell me—"

"All I wanted was to know you but you only flirted and gave me what I wanted! I gave you what you wanted! We never knew each other, Ymir! You never let me in and I never let you in! You're afraid of getting hurt and I don't know why!"

"S-Stop!"

"I'm afraid of you hurting me! I'm afraid I won't have a home to go back to! Ymir, you can't keep pushing people away when you get scared! It's not healthy! You can't keep shoving people—"

"I KNOW!" Ymir was sobbing, choking on her own breath as she wailed. "I KNOW! I KNOW! I KNOW!"

"BUT NOBODY STAYS! I AM A HORRIBLE PERSON! WHY DON'T YOU RUN AWAY, TOO, HISTORIA!? SASHA GOT A GOOD ENDING WHEN SHE LEFT—YOU NEED TO LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Those very words were the same as the ones inside of me.

We had the same demons.

"Ymir, stop…"

"AREN'T YOU SCARED OF ME, TOO? TOO AFRAID TO GET CLOSE? I WILL HURT YOU IN THE END!"

"…Ymir…"

She bit her own lip as I pulled her into a hug as she dug her face into my shoulder, sobbing, reminding me I could run, I could get away, and that there was time for me to escape her.

I hushed her with kisses.

She found her comfort in my touch as we kissed more than we pleasured each other.

At some point, Ymir's hand accidentally got in her own acrylics as I pressed her up against her easel. Her hand reached up against the canvass, using it as leverage as she groaned, and lost in her bliss, she smeared her hand down the canvass, streaking it with red right across me.

Red for passion.

Red for anger.

Red for blood.

Red for the warmth.

Red for the morning I woke up, leaving Ymir alone in her bed, and packing what little I had and leaving with my sister who waited downstairs.

I never know if I will ever see this coffee shop, Sasha, or Ymir ever again.

But, Ymir…

I felt empty when I came but I left a little less.

I was a boring, static piece of line art that you re-imagined in all the positive qualities I only dreamed of, and you colored me in with colors I haven't felt since I was a child. Some colors I never felt until I was with you.

This might end sad, Ymir, but you will always be in my heart.

I'm sorry I couldn't stay.