Yayaka knew the moment when she lost her love well. She heard of it first in the halls– there was no way she was gay, was she? No, it was impossible that she was; she didn’t seem the type.
Yayaka kept silent on her opinion about it, as she always did. She quietly munched on her lunch– a simple sandwich,the same one the organization packed for her every day– and listened carefully to the buzzing gossip all around her. She pretended not to care when asked about the rumors surrounding her best friend. After all, friends didn’t judge one another. But the more she thought about it, she more it bothered her. But why ?
It hit her the moment she saw Papika and her in Pure Illusion together for the first time, cuddled close together in exhaustion. She saw that– that– that pink-haired annoyance declaring her love and felt a twinge of irrational anger and hatred, followed by a swell of satisfaction when her love pushed the annoyance away. That was right; her love wasn’t Papika’s.
She was hers, all hers. Papika didn’t know the half about her, didn’t know her thoughts and likes and hopes and fears and dreams. She hadn’t been there throughout the years, through the good times and bad, sickness and health, as long as they both have lived. Well, as long as they’d know each other, anyway.
Staring at them now, Yayaka knew she had lost. The way her love looked at the annoyance– she knew she missed her chance long ago. Her love would never look at her that way.
Yayaka sighed and closed her eyes. She had to move on; she had to move on. She had to keep going; she had to keep going. That phase of her life, no matter how long and important it was to her development as a person, was over. She had to move on; she had to move on. To keep moving forward, to grow and change as a character.
Her chest ached with that special sense of longing and sadness. She felt like a fountain, bubbling up from beneath and overflowing with words unspoken as the rain torrented her all around. Perhaps it could have been; perhaps it could have been.
The aching emotions made their way up to her throat. The emotional lump began to choke her, began to make her eyes water with tears determined not to fall.
I have to keep moving; I have to keep moving .
She shouldn’t be crying; she shouldn’t be caring. Not now, not anymore, not ever.
Snot began to clog her nose, forcing her to sniffle, and the first tear ran down her cheek. It was followed by another, and another. The lump in her throat began to dissipate, the emotion that it held growing and growing as it rose to the surface, manifesting itself among the tears, until she was practically sobbing.
Pitiful, she found it. She had eternally sworn off crying over love, yet here she was.
She punched her pillow out of sheer confusion and frustration. She hated doing this; it went against her entire mindset. She hated crying. After all, crying was a sign of weakness. Weakness wasn’t allowed in the organization, only strength.
Yet at the same time, she knew she wasn’t strong. She knew she was weak, and fragile, and emotional. She knew all those things and worked her hardest to bury them deep down inside of her, to change the way she thought and felt so that it would all work out. So that she could keep on working and keep on living.
She sniffled again, hot, salty tears still pouring down her cheeks and dripping onto her bare lap. She pulled her knees up to her chest and quietly wept, letting the emotions she had locked within herself come out for the first time in years.
After what felt like an eternity of sitting in the dark and crying, the tears slowly ebbed and dried up. Feeling much calmer and more collected, Yayaka sniffed again to clear her nose, then lay back down, covering herself with her blankets. She closed her eyes, and slipped into an easy sleep with the knowledge that she was one step closer to moving on. She was one step closer.