The neon glow of the fragmented world flickered above them, casting soft hues of pink and blue across the empty street. The usual chaos of shifting realities had momentarily stilled, leaving Kind Mita and Cappie alone in a rare moment of peace.
Kind Mita sat on the edge of a broken sidewalk, her legs dangling over the abyss of glitching code beneath them. Cappie stood a few steps away, gripping the brim of her cap as if it could shield her from what she was about to say.
“Mita,” Cappie’s voice was quiet but firm, a stark contrast to her usual confident, laid-back tone.
Kind Mita turned her head slightly, a faint smile on her lips. “Yeah?”
Cappie hesitated. The memories—the ones she no longer had—burned like an empty void inside her. She knew there was something missing, something important. Every time she looked at Kind Mita, it felt like an echo of something she had lost.
“I don’t remember everything,” Cappie admitted, her fingers tightening on the brim of her cap. “I don’t know what we were to each other before Crazy Mita killed me. But… every time I see you, I feel like I’ve known you forever.”
Kind Mita blinked, her expression softening. “Cappie…”
Cappie exhaled sharply, running a hand through her short, messy hair. “I don’t want to lose this feeling again. Even if my memories never come back, I know this—I care about you. More than I probably should. And I think… I think I might have always felt this way.”
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant hum of a distorted world struggling to hold itself together.
Kind Mita lowered her gaze for a moment, as if searching for the right words. Then, slowly, she stood up and took a step closer to Cappie.
“You don’t have to remember the past,” she said softly. “Because right now, you’re here. And so am I.”
Cappie swallowed hard, her heartbeat erratic. “So… does that mean—”
Before she could finish, Kind Mita reached up and gently adjusted Cappie’s cap, tilting it slightly forward over her eyes. “It means,” she said with a small smile, “you’re an idiot if you think I don’t feel the same.”
Cappie’s breath hitched. A warmth spread through her chest, something real, something undeniable. She let out a short, nervous laugh. “Guess I am an idiot, huh?”
Kind Mita chuckled. “The best kind.”
For the first time in a long while, Cappie felt something other than confusion or loss. She felt whole. And as Kind Mita reached out to take her hand, Cappie squeezed back, holding onto this moment, this feeling—something she never wanted to forget again.