"Guess we're postponing our coffee date. Taking a raincheck, if you will."
Belle peers from the alley and into the cold smothering of rain. Her fingers cling on a wall like she could be dragged down a drainage grate. Dark clouds languish over New Eridu, and a heavy slosh of rain falls over every inch, where rivers run from the Pubsec offices to the ocean, where waterfalls crash on concrete from the towering complexes. Any speck of flame or life hides itself within the great cold corona plaguing the city.
Miyabi steps into it. Looking up with water running over her frosty eyes and her body like a marble statue eroding over centuries.
"I'd like to go on our date anyway." Miyabi's lips break.
"Oh." Belle's eyes widen from her hidden patch of the alley.
"I'm sorry, just…" Miyabi's posture breaks under the weight of her inconsiderate request. She starts to glance back. "If the rain deters you, then we can go another day."
It's just the edge of Miyabi's eye, the faintest sliver of a pupil that Belle can see. Glimmering guilt and sly sadness. A haunch in the shoulders. A lag of an ear.
"Hey, Miyabi." Belle tries to match their gazes with a warm smile, if only Miyabi could reciprocate with those wet eyes. "If the rain really doesn't bother you, then let's do it."
"It's no bother. It's always raining in the hollows."
"No," Belle raises an eyebrow, "it kind of isn't."
Belle starts to run, but Miyabi's silent stroll slumps behind. Hot steps smash puddles, but slight steps slide through sludge. Splashing echoes through Lumina Square, and small shuffles drown in the rain. Lights dim in Miyabi's vision, as her feet guide her like following a burning spirit through a dark forest, but as she loses sight of Belle, within the depths of monotony, she finally tilts her head towards a light.
Far in the distance, a hot glow penetrates the gloom. Silhouetted within a noodle bar, where chopsticks tap against bowls as sticks brush a xylophone, two young men chatter above the wet mire. The yellow headband of Harumasa whips against his shoulder, the tail of Seth swings beneath him like the pendulum of a clock. Behind the bar, ramen flips and flops and oil splashes within the pan above the searing flames in a fierce crackle.
Miyabi doesn't remember walking to the coffee shop. Belle is already holding the door open for her, running a hand through wet tussles. Dead silence smothers the store.
The barista is woken from his slumber, and in minutes, Miyabi holds a tray of two coffees. Without a thought, without a care, she takes it to the door, out to the cold. Just as her hand reaches out, a voice snaps her to attention.
"Miyabi, are you okay?" Belle blinks, lips tilt, eyes soften. "You wanna go outside? In that mess?"
The question pierces the dreariness, and the fog lifts over Miyabi's mind. Her consciousness awakens, indicating how strange it is to go on a date just to drink coffee in the pouring rain. She exhales, but the pressure of her own oddities keeps expanding in her chest.
"Sorry. We can drink them indoor-"
"Because that's fine, if that's what you want." Belle bundles her arms behind her back, she swivels a toe on the floor. Her face turns straight.
Permission to be strange. Miyabi keeps her gaze on the door handle. The permission does not help.
Rain breaks against their parasol until it's all they can hear. Lumina Square hangs around them. Their dark silhouettes ripple on the rooftop of the coffee shop, lining against empty chairs like collapsed puppets on an empty stage. A single portable heater illuminates them in a sharp spotlight, and the steam of two large coffees ripple like the bated breath of a long-gone audience.
Date.
"Belle, I don't have many topics prepared." Miyabi's eyes drag to the table legs.
"Maybe you should tell me what's on your mind." Hands in her lap, shoes swiping along the floor, Belle straightens her back. "Come on, forget the date, let's get to the point."
Miyabi's chair scrapes along the roof. She leaves the table. The luminescence of the heater rots away. Cold mist clings to her clothes and hair clings to her face and a heart clings to cold mist.
"Is this a normal life?"
"Ooh, uh…" Belle taps her fingers on the table. "Going on a coffee date? Yeah, kind of, that's normal."
Miyabi stares over the edge of the roof, before the railing. Rain seeps through her, and the ocean seeps through the world. Far out, a dark reflection emanates across a grey surface, a hollow spreads forth and emits this pale wasteland, and the ocean quivers before it. So distant, lording over so much, so dark, blinding the world, so common, normalising evil.
And just below, under an umbrella, two sisters toss lures into the ocean. Fingers wring their fishing rods as fingers would grace a flute, and lures flit above the depths and bobbing as a watch's hand ticks away. With their backs to the small playground, a stoic pair of green and orange eyes ignore the hollow far away, and a pink pair of twintails catches a cold gust. Nicole hunches with a pout on her lips, between her and Anby is a rapidly filling cooler of successful hunts, and Anby remains expressionless even in the face of catching a record-breaking amount of fish.
"Over there. It's those two friends of yours." Miyabi breaks her stare with a blink.
Belle holds herself, as the heater fights the cold. She shuffles in her seat. The glisten in her eyes, born in joy, weaken as they reflect Miyabi's body soaking to the bone, until a dull shimmer echoes through her pupils.
"Please don't stand in the rain."
Miyabi is not moving. Seeping frost penetrates her skin, but curiosity is far more powerful. Her gaze transfixes on the two young women and their struggle against the splashes consuming their bait. Her arms stay joined to her sides.
So Belle stands up, and now, they both stand in the rain, frost seeping through their skin, hair clinging to their faces, watching the Demara sisters. The parasol and heater are miles away as dark torrents surround them, but neither have to take it on alone.
"They have a cooler filled with fish." Miyabi quietly observes. "Seems they've taken to fishing in the absence of work. Perhaps to make some money, perhaps just to have something to do."
"Yeah."
Belle slides so close that their shoulders touch, and Miyabi stands small and unperturbed. A slight mingling of arms, and Belle's hand glides on Miyabi's wrist, down to the hand, and fingers interlock. Sopping wet, a flicker of warmth spreads between them.
"Are they happy?" Miyabi's hand does not react to Belle's touch, and nor does her face.
"I don't know." Belle gives a small squeeze of the hand. She smiles, a little. "Should we go ask them?"
Anby pulls back her rod and the slick winding of her reel dances through the rain. Her bait has caught a fish, that was being eaten by a bigger fish, that was being eaten by a bigger fish. Anby's face does not change. Nicole, empowered by jealous rage or a deep determination, reels in her catch. On her hook dangles an old boot.
"There's no need." Miyabi mumbles. "They'll just say that they're happy, whether they mean it or not."
"How do you know that?" Belle breathes out and faint mist forms, barely hiding the narrowing of her eyes and sinking of her mouth corners.
Miyabi glances at the other end of the roof. A group of young women in school uniform hide themselves under their jackets and umbrellas, following a thiren as if hypnotised by her veritable force of a shark tail. 'Ellen, oh please, save us from drowning!' One girl pretends to faint in a puddle, and the backup actors join in and feign giggly panic as if being swept away in the rain to their certain doom. Ellen's dead stare tilts into an eyeroll, and without missing a beat, she sweeps up two of her friends in her tail, and hauls the other two over her shoulders, like an absolute magnet for swooning young women.
Miyabi breathes in, and out.
"Would you be happy if you were no longer a proxy, and running the video store with your brother was your only job?"
"I bet I would be. Everyone wants a normal life." Belle squeezes her hand.
"You're lying, Belle."
"Excuse me?"
Belle staggers. Their hands slip apart. She leans on a leg, arms crossing like covering an injury. It's almost anger, it's almost frustration, but it's just patience.
"Belle. Nobody in the world wants to be normal. Everyone dreams of being special. They dream of being wealthy, they dream of having a unique talent that leads to mass recognition, they dream of being masters of their favourite art form, they dream of being powerful, they dream of being something."
Ellen drags her friends through theatre doors, and allow the honour of future movie releases to wash over them as she dumps them on the floor like the world's most uncaring lifeguard. One girl is back up and immediately slides on Ellen's back, offering a lollipop as a reward, jabbed straight into the cheek with a devious smile. Then, the others all reach into their pockets and pull out their own lollipops in reverence as a sacrificial offering. In seconds, Ellen has five sticks poking out of her mouth and the girls ready their phone cameras for a group selfie. Ellen is not looking at the cameras. Memories are better than photos.
Belle retreats back to the parasol, into the sweet embrace of the heater.
"Yeah. Probably." She sighs. For a second, it's a little difficult to look at the void hunter. "And? Is there something wrong with dreaming about the high life?"
Miyabi looks to the sky. She won't be able to see the stars tonight. The clouds deny her the privilege.
"Why did my mother wish for me to live a normal life, with her dying breath?" She lops her head and flops her ears. "If being normal was so desirable, then why do people dream of a greater life?"
"Oh, well, um…"
The heater creaks like a rusted gear. Belle swallows. She settles into her chair and wrings her wrist along the table, counting the seconds in her own heartbeats. With her head hanging low, her gaze reaches over the roof, hoping that a puppet master will start pulling their strings again.
Miyabi's stare cannot pierce the clouds. Nothing answers her, no person nor spirit.
"Normal life. Normal things. What kind of things should I do?"
No audience to witness them, no friends to soothe them, Belle only has one option. Crank her neck as someone would wind the gears of a clock, crack her fingers like someone preparing to play the piano, breathe out as if her warm breath could dispel an arctic whirlwind.
"Normal things, huh?" Belle puckers her lips and stretches her arms out. "Movies. Food. Time with friends. Finding love. Me and Billy played some Snake Duel last week."
"Mm."
"But that's something you already know, Miyabi." Belle clicks her tongue and drums her fingers with the nonchalance of being lost in the big city. "We've gone to the movies, we've gone out for food. You're young, you go out into society, you know what everyone else does."
Centred on the other side of Lumina Square, in a messy apartment with a questionable odour, Jane Doe digs through her kitchenette shelves in search of sustenance that doesn't rely solely on high-sugar energy bars. A radiator pumps heat, and Jane tiptoes through a cataclysm of her own design to flop upon her sofa, with a box of cereal in one hand and a TV remote in the other, and donning a onesie with a hood shaped like a cartoon rat's head. She flicks on a children's cartoon and shoves a handful of cereal in her mouth.
The heater glows beside Belle.
"As my mother died," Miyabi turns down to the streets, "was she thinking of me eating noodles and watching movies or going to the arcade?"
Belle scratches the back of her head and breathes in warm air. Orange light spreads over her contemplation.
"I don't think your mom was thinking that hard. She didn't expect you to take it this literally, she probably didn't expect you to, like, dissect what 'normal' means."
"That's a shame. That means she never got to see what kind of strange, stupid adult I would be."
"No, no, I'm sorry." Belle inhales sharp as a tack, like her throat is punctured. She almost reaches out through the water to pull in her friend. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
"Please don't worry, Belle, I know I'm the problem, not you."
"You're not, I promise, please don't think about yourself like that. I just…" Belle swallows, trying to regain herself like she were lost at sea. Concern that she caused offence, pity that Miyabi could say that about herself, maybe a little bit of understanding, it all wreaks havoc with her expression. Understanding how it feels to not have your mother here anymore. Wondering what your mother would say about your lifestyle. Knowing she isn't here to help anymore…
Hidden deep within a karaoke bar, Yanagi's eyes, decorated with dark bags, glare into a microphone, a foe greater than any ethereal. Fuzzy dark screens glare back at her, etched with lyrics, and these twisted words reflect in her glasses as her lips part and she takes a calming breath. The words dispel before the might of two blue hands, each holding a pom-pom, and her tight expression unwinds with a jolt. Soukaku bounces up and cheers 'Go, Nagi, go, Nagi!' The beat drops and speakers blare. So, Yanagi sings. Our world is not meant to hear this disaster, but Soukaku's smile is the only world that matters.
Belle runs a hand over her face. Regroup. Refocus. Miyabi stands in the rain with her back to Belle. She is a sculpture, crafted to gaze at the distant hollow.
"Let me try again. She wanted you to be happy." Belle's slow nod and the wipe of her lips hide a pause. "And, can I be real, Miyabi?"
"No permission necessary."
"You already know that all she wants is for you to be happy. Even if you're not technically living a normal life, you really can't interpret any other meaning from what your mom wanted."
"Mm." Miyabi breathes out. Nothing rises in her chest.
Belle's hands settle as though she were at a business meeting, laying it all out on the table. Feet firm beneath the table, slim shoulders broadening, she stares straight into the back of Miyabi's head.
"So, what's the real problem? Do you have depression? Did something happen to you? Are you lonely? Are you afraid of being weird?" Belle leans in, as if she could close the gulf of distance, and wide eyes behold her friend. "Please tell me. I promise I'll do anything."
Miyabi gazes into the hollow, so far away. It's always too close and always so far away. The oceans are always so grey. No matter how much colour one uses in their fight, everything becomes grey. Add all the happiness you want, everything still turns cold. Apply all your empathy, and there's still evil.
But Miyabi is still doing it. Still fighting it. Why?
"I like fighting in the hollows. It's comfortable."
"Yeah?" Belle waits for it.
"But I woke up and realised that I'm not living a normal life, I'm just addicted to living. Addiction is an enemy, but it clings on me like a friend."
The rain weighs down. Silent waters drown New Eridu. And mist covers them, and grey spreads through the ocean, and clouds blot the sky, and…
And Belle stands up.
"I don't like seeing you stand in the rain, Miyabi."
"I like how it feels."
Belle takes her hand and drags her under the umbrella. Awoken from a deep slumber, Miyabi's gaze cracks with life and her eyes widen, watching herself be pulled, and not wanting to resist. Through the numbness echoing through her body, she feels a tight grasp.
The heater washes over her. Seats taken, hands in lap, staring at coffee. Far through the wet mist, a large screen projects an analogue clock in an advertisement for a high-end watch brand. Sharp ticking pulses across Lumina Square. Belle slides the heater to the edge of the table. Warmth intensifies, and for a second, Miyabi leans into it, then leans back as if she doesn't deserve it. Belle watches.
"I'm sorry, Miyabi. I don't think I can help you with these feelings."
"You're here."
Within the confines of her worried gaze, Belle summons a smile. The mirror she uses to echo someone's feelings reflects a murky grey surface, but that's okay. She lets the impulse take control, the impulse to do or say anything to make another person happy. It always has to start with a smile.
"You don't talk to your friends about this stuff, huh?"
Miyabi shakes her head. Something about this shared gaze is too much for her. The smile, the concern, this is a bad time to try and accept them. She turns away.
"I'd like to be one of them. I don't know if it would suit me."
"One of who?"
Somewhere in New Eridu, Harumasa and Seth fight over who pays the bill. Nicole is throwing a third old boot back into the ocean. Jane has fallen asleep with cereal dribbling out of her mouth. Ellen sits between her fawning friends as they debate whether or not the upcoming comedy movie could make her smile. Yanagi claps along to the music as Soukaku shows her own lack of musical talent.
Belle is on a coffee date.
"Your coffee went cold," Belle pulls the cup towards them, "but it's still there. No matter what you're feeling, you can still reach out and grab it. No matter how you feel, the world has a lot for you to do. It still has movies and noodles. It has fish to catch, games to play, love to find."
Miyabi chugs her coffee. One swift motion, one large gulp, one gentle tap of the empty cup on the saucer.
"That was disgusting." Cold americano clings to the roof of her mouth.
"Yup." Belle's hand starts the slow slide over the table. "And, no matter how you feel, someone in this world wants to hold your hand, because you deserve it."
Delicate fingers slink together. Miyabi watches their hands join, and the fingertips sliding beneath her glove, and the fabric peeling away until her dry, bare hand is exposed, and skin touches skin. That foreign burst of endorphins wriggles under Miyabi's heart as their small embrace rests before the heater.
"Thank you." Miyabi gentle brushes aside her hair, showing the faintest of pink blushes.
"Maybe…" Belle starts, "all of the little things we do in our lives are normal, or maybe even inconsequential. It's the people that make it special. Watching a steamy lesbian romance movie hits a little different when it's with you."
Miyabi softens and threatens to express something close to glee, but might be slight embarrassment. She stares into Belle's eyes, and both of their lips straighten and gazes sharpen.
"Belle, what do you find so attractive about me?"
"I like you because you jump on coloured tiles on the way to your office, you little weirdo."
Miyabi's laugh hits like a pin popping a water balloon, and shy and quiet chuckles cascade out of her. Her posture breaks into a slump as her shoulders unravel and her chest swells and her arms flop in her lap. All the while, she almost misses a finger poking her chin, guiding her face into Belle's loving stare as though those eyes were recording the moment.
"Is my laugh that priceless to you?" She lightly brushes away the finger.
"Of course it is. I have to take it all in."
Miyabi does not wipe herself off. She needs the water on her face. Until the feelings subside. Whatever these feelings are. But they're warm.
"I apologise for heaving my burdens on you."
"They aren't burdens, they're feelings." Belle taps her shoulder and winks. "I'll listen to them all."
"Then, I'd like to do the same for you. It would only be fair." Miyabi clears her throat. Their fingers graze together like two lovers caressing under a blanket. "Would you like to inflict some feelings on me?"
"Careful, you think you can handle my trauma dumping?" Belle bumps their shoulders.
"I am emotionally prepared to validate feelings involving familial loss, the destruction of animal ecosystems, and crime."
"What about the unhealthy need to be liked? Or the stress of proxy work?"
"Sorry, no."
Two heartbeats tick across a second and pump giggles through them. Their hands clasp over the table and against the heater, and the orange hue paints their laughs.
"Jest." Miyabi shrugs. The smile will be a fixture for quite some time.
"I know." Belle scoots up. She almost crosses the event horizon to slide on Miyabi's seat, with their arms lining up and shoulders brushing and legs entwining and breath mingling. "Can you kiss me on the cheek without fainting?"
"Resistance training needs to start somewhere." The void hunter knows no fear, no surrender, no remorse.
Mwah.
"Soft." Miyabi's slow lean back into her chair gives her a moment to process it. Belle's face turning an inch against her, the gentle flush of her cheek, the welcoming gaze, the faint warmth. And deep in her chest, Miyabi untangles the ball of emotions just now. Fizzling in her heart, that might be affection. The squeezing feeling, that was either physical attraction or the proximity of another person. But that gentle caress beneath her body? It's the undeniable joy that someone wants her to kiss them.
Belle is already standing when Miyabi breathes out the tight compression and finally blinks.
"It was nice of the store owner to let us borrow the heater, it set the scene pretty nicely." Belle stretches her back. "So, are you buying me a new TV or what?"
"I am. And I like watching movies with you."
"You know, that lesbian romance movie we watched has a sequel."
"Sequel."