Chapter 2
It seemed that Serene still thought of herself as the useless and more boring one out of the two of them. Sometimes, a self-deprecating look would cross her face but as soon as she notices Alice was looking, she would blink and smile as if nothing happened. Alice wasn't naive, stupid, or gullible and she was sure as hell that Serene didn't think so either. She never pushed though, much to Serene's frustration.
Honestly, it was obvious.
Maybe not to other people, but Alice was an expert in Serene-ism before everything else. She took pride in that.
Countless hangouts, laughs, secrets shared between them, and all of those years of being friends, yet the poor girl still thought of herself as boring. Oh, how silly! The one thing she hated the most was boredom. If she was that boring, Alice wouldn't have stuck around for so long.
She's well aware of the horribly disproportionate perception Serene had of her; awfully filled with grandeur and too religious for her own good, much like a follower to their God. She never tried to dispel the misunderstandings, though. Where was the fun in that? Besides, it was quite flattering.
It was much more amusing watching her silly little head bumble and run around looking for answers to questions that were obvious.
(But it was scary. Even if she could never admit it; Serene became something more than a test subject to her. She was something important, a needed constant to her fixed experiment called 'life', and the prospect of that was terrifying. Attachments meant being chained down and affection meant dependency.
And so, she will keep her at arms length.
Even if the hole in her heart begs and screams to swallow her whole.)
The more she knew, the more she realized they weren't that different fundamentally. If the circumstances were right, it would've been Serene standing in her place. If she just grew her hair out more, believed in herself more, let herself desire more, then maybe their roles could've switched.
It would've been Alice being played with, having her buttons mashed non-stop and her wings pierced with needles.
It was an interesting thought.
(Chilling, terrifying, even. In a way, remaining at Serene's side served as a motivation for her and as an unrelenting vice at the same time. Alice had never been on the receiving stares of her own stares— that she knew Serene hated because of how cold her eyes were, not that she ever noticed whenever Alice accidentally let warmth seep out— but sometimes, she would catch Serene wear those same eyes, and then her breath would catch in her throat because of how it makes her shiver and how breathtaking it is. As if she was witnessing the corruption of someone who used to be so pure.
And yet she claims that they weren't similar, at all. Turns out, she had it in her this whole time. Just out there, fighting the same demons.
Actually, that should've been obvious from the start. Clear as glass from the moment Serene had laid her hands on Alice's neck, squeezing and squeezing until it bled and left a scar.
"I'm sorry," Serene had said. Unsurprisingly, she had given in first. It was quite unlike someone who was just brimming with aggression and anger just hours earlier.
She really thought it was her fault, the poor girl.
"It's okay."
Alice didn't turn to her as she had said this, voice monotone in the exact way that she knows will kill her from the inside.
"With the scars on your hands and wrists, we'd match, won't we?"
Serene pauses, running her fingers over her bandages.
"Yeah."
Alice tries to keep her steps steady, quickly stifling that laugh that tries to escape from her throat.)
Sometimes, she gets forbidden thoughts.
Thoughts like drugging her food, dragging a knife across Serene's pale skin and watching as it bleeds while she sleeps or scarring her face with scissors or suddenly disappearing on her only to come back and be greeted with anger and "Why did you fucking leave me again?"
Followed by;
"You're going to leave me again. Right? Say you won't leave me."
"I won't leave you."
"Say it again."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Again."
"I'll always be here." With you, Alice doesn't say.
"Do you believe me now?"
Serene smiles— something between a snarl and a grin, "No. I don't."
Alice does nothing but laugh.
Then it all repeats.
Well. You get the gist. It was all welcomed and expected— she could think of the most grotesque way to torture Serene mentally and physically while smiling at the victim of it all. Unblinking. Innocent. Unassuming.
But no, it wasn't those thoughts.
It was thoughts of stagnancy, of living sincerely, laugh.sfx, one day Alice would finally give into this sticky feeling and watch those shows that Serene liked so much, and maybe— just maybe, she would answer Serene's questions. Open up a little bit and see her smile so happily like learning her favorite color was that much of an honor to her.
Such a notion was, frankly, terrifying. Perhaps Alice was just so used to falling hard and losing interest just as quickly. Too used to disappointment and disillusion. Not like she would know; she knew a lot of things but her own self wasn't one of those things. Although, some things were better unknown.
But occasionally, after a tired day of pretending, she wonders what the point of anything— everything is.
And then Serene would notice and ask,
"What's wrong?"
Then, just for a moment, she would contemplate taking off that mask of hers even if for only a second.
Nothing! Because I'm perfect and I'm never exhausted and I don't need anyone to take care of me and I don't need anything! I'm not starving for warmth or anything at all and I have a perfect life with no financial problems— or problems in general— so that means I'm fine and dandy and flawless and I'm the best and I'm not pretending at all!
Or,
I feel like all of the things I'm doing are just me trying to make up for this warmth that I don't have or have lost. Why are you still here? No matter how much I ponder, I can't understand you at all. Why do you stay with what hurts you? If I were you I would've killed me. Why can't you see all of the lies? Why can't you fight back for once?
But she says nothing, just smiles as radiant as she was this morning and nothing is out of place, absolutely, that was impossible, unacceptable, after all.
"Nothing."
Unfortunately, the mask has long been sown into her face.
"I love you. I really do. I love you so much that it hurts." It sounds like she says it after moments of silence, but, well, that's the funny thing, isn't it? She didn't. It felt so sudden, so spontaneous, like those feelings— stupid impulses that Alice felt on a daily basis and she almost feels like gasping.
You do! I've always known you loved me! And that's exciting, so wonderful, so, so, wonderful, and so curious because how can you love me? Alice replies— no, she doesn't, she thinks that, but the thought— the voice in her head says it so clear that it feels like she did say it. She didn't. The cause of all these feelings is all in front of her. Human. Blinking. Turning a little red in the face.
Haha. She wants to grab and squeeze Serene's face between her hands, poke it as if playing with a doll. The thing, the person that's causing all these impulsive emotions and it's like she could reach out and grab this feeling like it's tangible. Her eyes are a little bit too wide, a little bit more manic than usual and she's probably staring too much, but, hey. She can't tell the difference anymore.
"Did I say something wrong?"
Serene squirms in her seat, of course she does, fingers drumming against the table and it's almost overshadowed by the voices of people talking over each other but— Alice doesn't miss it. Can't miss.
"Oh, no! Nononono," She pauses, catching herself mid-speech, and, ah, her skin feels a little clammy. An irregular beating beneath her skin, thrumming a little louder and faster. "There's no right answer." It's probably just excitement, she tells herself, (even if it doesn't really feel like it.)
"...Right answer?"
Serene squints, oh, she's been doing that more often now, she notes. It's natural in its own way; She's so expressive without even meaning to be, tries to stifle it visibly and ends up becoming more expressive in the process. Trying to hide her emotions is a worthless endeavor when the one in front of her is Alice but she doesn't try to stop her.
"That's what you feel, right? Then there's no correct answer to it. You love me," Right? She pauses, almost slipping on her words, "And that's all there is to it." She says almost a little too forcefully.
(She's quite unlike Alice who tries hard. Tries hard to make herself smile a certain way, satisfactorily, a smile that will certainly make her mother proud. It takes a lot effort, blinking widely at the mirror, trying all sorts of expressions until she settles on one she likes. Coincidentally, it's the one smile Serene had complimented, and, no, that was just a passing comment that doesn't have anything to do with it.)
Serene nods, Alice sees it— unsaid words on her lips, maybe not her lips, but in her throat, yet to force itself out. Sees it in the way her lips tremble ever so slightly. Then, she swallows, the words long lost. Or— not actually lost. Just saved for later. To be dissected and mulled over later.
It's almost as if she hadn't confessed. Now, she doesn't know what she'd prefer, if Serene had kept her mouth shut about the things she'd already known (so she wouldn't have had to deal with it with her blindfold and gloves off, cuz' it's scaaary!) Or if she yelled it at the top of her lungs and kept Alice's wide eyed like an actor who forgot the script to her own play. (I mean, who the hell thought of these crappy lines?)
It had its pros and cons— gave Alice a type of euphoria, a high that you'd get when you play too close to the edge of a skyscraper's roof and nearly fall off. That kind of frantic heartbeat (and fear! Wait, fear? Haha!) But, goddamnit, heart! Stop beating like, like, like that!
"Now," Alice almost forgets she's in a restaurant, ah, being with Serene does that a lot. "Why don't you eat your meal?" We, she almost says, but quickly corrects herself, "You don't want it to get cold, do you?"
"I owe you a lot. I owe you this meal, too."
Serene continues, but Alice isn't quite there, eyes glazed over and unfocused.
(She notices.)
Alice stares at the utensils in her hands. Serene fiddles with the knife before cutting into the steak with a sheepish smile. The silver isn't cold in her hands, (these damn writers in those books keep lying!), she keeps staring, but really, she's looking at herself reflected in the knife. At her own eyes.
It would've been so, so love...? Ah, so easy to just say those three words back. It just stays in her throat like some annoying lump she wanted to vomit out.
(Lies don't come easy anymore.)
And, and, it's not as if it would've been a lie.... would it?
These impulsive feelings, would it be enough to call it love? This infatuation... Maybe it was how all of these definitions came together and formed an existence; Serene. She was allergic to self esteem (they're working on that, though!) Yet easily prideful, but isn't everyone else the same? All she had to do was pick a random girl from the street and force it out for the whole world to see. But it was this existence specifically, so small, so fragile compared to the grand scheme of things that just piqued her interest. It's like an impulsive desire to stick pins into an insect and observe its struggles. And isn't that love? Maybe, that's love? Is that what love is? Inaccurate baselines stuck on top of each other by other people trying to define what love is until it becomes mangled beyond repair and unrecognizable? Ahaha.
(Such a prospect is terrifying because love is blind and Alice can't become like... that. She hates that word with a burning fucking passion and hates everyone else who says it's inevitable all because it's human, and, well, if that's the case then she fucking hates being human!)
"...Alice?" Serene's eyebrows furrow and her eyes soften in a way that makes her feel so... so..? Unsafe? Uncomfortable? It just makes her still-annoyingly-human brain short circuit and scramble for coherent words. It's, ahhhhhhhh, so annoying!
Maybe her annoyance shows, it probably does, her mask is coming a little loose, now, but Serene doesn't shrink like she expects her to. Since when has she stopped doing that?
"...Yes?"
She means to say more. She should say more, but she doesn't. For the first time, she goes against her own script, and it's getting slightly hot in here or, maybe, she's not getting enough air.
"Shizu." Serene says more confidently. It's— that confidence, it doesn't, uh, it's rare? It's disgusting. Or maybe not. What is she feeling right now? God.
"Yes, Yuki?" That's supposed to be a statement.
"It's fine if you don't want to give me your answer."
Answer? Oh. Oh, right!
"..."
Maybe that's what love is. Comparing answers.
Honestly, she should just say it back.
But she can't, so she doesn't.