#he wears that zebra cardigan and is fine and likes it but is also a little self conscious and this would prob be the same

[oceanwithouthermoon]

the way i have absolutely flooded the kubosai tag is crazy😭most of the recent posts are mine.. my bad..

... anyway, im thinking about kuboyasu picking up different hobbies as a form of anger management, teaching himself coping mechanisms and to use his hands in more gentle ways and let himself make mistakes without taking his anger out in unhealthy ways..

knitting, crocheting, art (he already draws but he wants to do it more and start painting n stuff too), or even scrapbooking or journaling ?? he also already stress bakes/cooks lol.

and since he does it so much, he has so many little pieces of art and he ends up gifting most of them to saiki.. because kubo thinks theyre crappy, but saikis eyes lit up in a way kubo doesnt get to see often when he caught sight of kubos crocheted little pink cat with a suspiciously saiki-like grimace on his face.

so now saiki has all kinds of little knitted/crocheted blankets, pillow cases, stuffed animals, gloves, sweaters, etc. (he made a lot of scarves, bags, hats, coasters, etc. at first since those are easier for beginners, and at first he was keeping them for himself and his mom but the house has too many damn coasters and they do not need that many accessories and sweaters.. so the whole friend group started getting them, but mostly saiki.. and saikis mom started receiving some too).

and little paintings of cats (because kubo definitely loves cats but also saiki just reminds him of one so he draws/paints them for him a lot.. he doesn't know if saiki actually likes them, but he says he doesnt mind so..) and some cute paintings of their friends.. he makes a lot of vent art but saiki obviously does not receive that stuff☠️.

he also tried to learn yoga.. but he learns quickly that he just isnt very good at keeping his hands still and unoccupied for too long.. he might revisit that later, but for now hes just trying to at least learn slow and calculated motions with his hands..

he probably also starts helping kusuo and kurumi with their gardening (because they definitely have a garden). i doubt arens mom has a garden but i bet he could convince her to help him start one after enjoying it with the saikis so much.

the scrapbooking/journaling he mostly keeps to himself.. its mostly pictures of him and his mom, his friends, and him trying to document his feelings in messy pages of writing/doodles/choas..

i love the idea that he starts collecting stickers+fun pens+washi tape to use, which is something he totally would not normally fixate on but he starts getting really excited about it..

tbh it's probably mostly silly stickers from anime he likes, like one piece and dragonball.. a lot of his other interests like the yakuza movies wouldnt have stickers he could get so he just doodles the characters.

but he starts branching out into sillier and more colorful stuff, mostly thanks to chiyo, kokomi, kusuo, and shun. chiyo+kokomi have lots of girly stickers and glitter pens that they give him when they catch wind of the journaling..shun has lots of silly stickers from comic books and theres a surprising amount of harley quinn+poison ivy along with the mcu stuff(mostly spiderman).

chiyo+kusuo have like vocaloid+prosekai stickers, but kusuo mostly is just the reason aren has lots of bright pink+green on a lot of his pages hehe..

anyway, a lot of the gifts he gives to kusuo start getting really.. obvious ? he once gives him this crocheted pink cat with a blank expression and a purple dog whose taller and smiling, both wearing glasses, that are permanently knitted together holding hands☠️and kusuo just.. accepts it. and a lot of the stuff he receives along with their other friends are suspiciously more detailed than everyone elses and there are a lot of hearts and the cat+dog thing becomes a frequent motif and theres so many coffee jelly stuffies and keychains its insane

shun will get like.. a black and red sweater, meanwhile kusuo gets a purple sweater covered in pink hearts+matching gloves+a scarf+socks+a tote bag+a headband ??? aren are ur hands okay seriously

kusuo keeps every single gift obviously, and the first dog+cat plushies along with some other gifts are on his desk so he can look at them literally all the time..

yet somehow they arent dating yet😭aren basically professed his undying love with all the hearts and romantic ass offerings but neither of them have really said anything out loud yet☠️☠️

[drowning-in-dennor]

Monochrome

This is my entry for day 1 of @aphyuriweek2019! I chose the theme of “colour” and the pairing here is nyo!DenNor. I actually wrote this quite a while ago, and it’s probably the longest one-shot I’ve ever written at around 4.5K words.

  The first time Maren sees her, the sky is dull and so are her clothes.

  Platinum locks. A white cardigan. A beige skirt, grey heels. Fair skin. She’s clutching something in her arms.

  The air is stuffy with the prelude of rain, and Maren sees the girl a few meters away from her. She herself is heading towards the bicycle store for her shift, preparing for a busy afternoon. Maren finds herself wondering where that girl is going.

  The next time Maren glances at her, she is on the ground.

  She runs to help the girl, who is picking things up. They’re papers, Maren notices. Black and white and as dull as everything else about her. Maren holds out a hand to help the girl up, and she takes it. Her skin is cool. 

  “Thank you,” she says. Her voice is quiet and monotone.

  “No problem!” Maren replies cheerfully. “What’s your name?”    

  The girl looks into her eyes. They’re blue. Not the noonday-sky-blue of Maren’s own eyes, not the sea-blue of her brother’s. They are the blue of the night sky right before the sun rises, but there are no stars in them.

  “Linnea Norsdottir,” she introduces herself as. “I go to the public university here, and I’m studying world literature.”

  “Cool. This is Maren Dansdatter, at your service.” Maren grins. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  Linnea nods, stands up and, after another short “Thank you”, leaves.

  Maren still doesn’t know where Linnea is going.

…

  The second time Maren sees her, the sky is clear.

  She’s heading for her shift again, and catches Linnea walking in the same direction. Her skirt is blue this time, a pale blue like watered-down paint. She’s carrying a bag this time, a plain canvas bag slung over one shoulder. There’s a clip on the right side of her head, something Maren didn’t notice before.

  Maren waves at her with a smile. “Hi!”

  Linnea turns and locks gazes with her. “Oh, hello again. Maren, right?” She smiles at the other girl’s nod. “I’d recognise that messy hair anywhere.”

  “Hey!”

  “Sorry,” she says, not sounding very apologetic. “But it’s true. That, and your loud voice.” Her clip is cross-shaped, Maren realises.

  “So,” trying not to sound too indignant, Maren changes the subject. “Where are you going?”

  “The hospital.” Linnea clutches her bag closer and turns away. “I’ll see you later, Maren.”  She walks away before Maren can ask more.

… 

  The third time Maren sees her, the sky is on the other side of a window.

  She’s in the hospital, visiting her nephew after he’s broken his leg. After punching her younger brother in the arm, she walks into the ward. It’s small, with white walls and a window and a curtained-off other half, where another patient must be. She approaches with a careful smile. “Hey, Peter!”

  Her six-year-old nephew, with his legs propped up with pillows, gives her a wave. “Hi, Aunt Maren! How are you?”

  “I should be asking you that, kid. How did you end up here?”

  “Oh, I fell off a tree at school.”

  “You what?”

  “It was a dare!” Peter protests, turning red. Maren laughs when she sees him pout. “Wendy said she’d do my homework for me if I could climb the highest tree in the school. So I did, and I stood up and she clapped, then I slipped and hit the floor. Papa almost passed out when he saw me in the nurse’s office with my leg all bent.”

  “And what did your faather—” Maren snickers at that. “—say when he found out?”

  “Dad dropped a plate when Papa called him from here. I heard it from over the phone.”

  Maren snorts, glancing briefly at the door when she hears voices.

  “Linn?”

  “Berwald, is that you? We haven’t talked in years, how are things?”

  She swings the door open when she hears Linnea’s voice, feeling her heart pound. There she sees Linnea, wearing the same as the day before, in conversation with Berwald.

  No, Maren notices with a jolt, she’s wearing arctic-blue heels, with little flowers sewn on top. And Linnea’s hair is done differently today, in a braid that sweeps over her shoulder. She doesn’t realise she’s staring at her until Berwald taps her shoulder.

  “Hey, do you two, like, know each other or somethin’?” Maren asks. She realises that Linnea is deliberately not looking at her.

  The blonde clears her throat, looking down. “Berwald’s my ex.”

  Maren stares at Berwald. “Since when did you like girls?”

  He stares back, glaring when she starts to smirk. “Experimenting. I was experimenting.”

  “It was high school,” Linnea adds. “We dated for two weeks, I think, before Berwald realised… that. Then we just kind of stayed friends.”

  “And I never knew about this.”

  “It was two weeks,” Berwald grunts. 

  “A while after we broke up, I realised I swung both ways, so I guess it helped.” Linnea shrugs and pushes the door open. “Now goodbye.”

  Maren follows her inside the ward. “You’re here to visit Peter, too?”

  She ignores her and passes Peter’s bed, pushing a curtain aside and walking to the other half of the ward. From her spot next to Peter’s bed, Maren hears, “How are you?”

  From behind the curtain come coughs, and a weak, almost-inaudible reply. 

  Trying to distract herself, Maren looks out the window. It’s dark now, and the little dots of lights poke out from windows and stand out like stars. The clock on the wall reads 8:24. 

  She leaves the room a few minutes later with a goodbye fist-bump to Peter and heads home. Almost two hours later, she gets a text message from Berwald. Tino and I just left the hospital, it reads. Linn is still there — I think she’s staying the night.

…

  The fourth time Maren sees her, it’s raining.

  She’s walking to the hospital, ready to help Peter get home after a week at the hospital. It’s raining cats and dogs and she has her umbrella open, though it doesn’t stop rainwater from splashing onto her shoes.

  In front of her, under a clear umbrella, is Linnea. She’s wearing her bland colours again, all whites and beiges and greys. Her head is bowed.

  Maren doesn’t talk to her until they both get inside the hospital, closing their umbrellas and kicking off stray droplets. “Linnea,” she calls.

  She turns, and Maren notices that her eyes are dull, defeated, tired. “Hello, Maren.” Even her voice is weaker.

  “Hey, are you okay? You look really tired.”

  “I’m fine,” Linnea says. She walks towards the elevator, although her walk looks more like a trudge. “And can you stop following me?”

  “I’m here to see my nephew,” Maren counters, while walking into the elevator herself. “He just happens to share a ward with whoever you’re visiting, so I can’t help it.”

  “Tch.” 

  They ride the elevator in silence.

  Peter is gone. Maren stands in front of what once was his hospital bed for a moment, before hearing a chime that came from her phone. She turns it on, noticing exactly 15 text messages and 4 missed calls from her brother-in-law.

Tino Maren (3:13 p.m.) Maren  (3:13 p.m.) Marennnnnn  (3:13 p.m.) Dont go to the hospital  (3:14 p.m.) Peter’s already home (3:14 p.m.) We picked him up (3:15 p.m.) so stay at home (3:16 p.m.) Maren Dansdatter don’t go to the hospital!!! (3:17 p.m.) Holy crap it’s raining so hard (3:17 p.m.) Aaah (3:17 p.m.) So yeah (3:17 p.m.) Stay at hone (3:18 p.m.) *home (3:18 p.m.) You won’t see Peter (3:18 p.m.) Also he says hi (3:20 p.m.) If you want to visit Peter then come over when its not raining (3:20 p.m.) See ya (3:21 p.m.)

  Linnea snickers while reading the messages. “You really should check your phone more.” She nudges a dumbstruck Maren, who jumps at the contact. “You know what? There’s no use in you staying here, so come along with me.”

  Maren stares at her. “What?”

  She pushes the curtain aside and gestures impatiently. “Come on.”

  There’s a girl asleep in the hospital bed, tiny against the mountain of blankets covering her. Linnea sets her bag down on a chair next to the bed and approaches the girl, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “Sula?”

  The girl — Sula — stirs, opening her eyes. She sits up slowly, propping herself up on the pillows. “Linn?” She murmurs.

  Linnea smiles at her, although her eyes remain dull. “How are you feeling?”

  Sula coughs. “Much better. Doctor Ardelean said my fever’s going down, too.” She coughs again, covering her mouth with a gasp. Linnea jumps and scrambles for a bottle of water, hands shaking when she hands it to Sula.

  Maren feels invisible while watching Linnea fuss over the girl, without sparing so much as a single glance at her.

  “T-Thanks.” 

  And Sula looks into Maren’s eyes, and the older girl finds herself locked by a gaze that eerily resembles Linnea’s. 

  “Who are you?” Sula asks quietly.

  “Sula, this is Maren.” Linnea says. “She’s… a friend, I think. Her nephew was the one who stayed in this room with you.”

  “The loud kid who wouldn’t shut up?”

  “Yeah. And Maren, Sula’s my younger sister.”

  Maren waves awkwardly. “Hey.”

  Sula blinks, not dropping her gaze. “Your hair is messier than my life.”

  “My hair is what, now?”

  “Kids these days,” Linnea mutters. “All nihilists.” She smooths out Sula’s blanket and reaches for her bag. “Literal twelve-year-olds talking about how life is meaningless while eating detergent.”

  “That was one time,” Sula protests weakly. “And I won Mr. Puffin from that.”

  “Oh, right, that’s how you got him. Speaking of your bird, he misses you.” Linnea pulls out a plastic bag. “Pecked me awake at three in the morning yesterday asking for food, then screeching when he didn’t get any.”

  “You have a puffin?”

  “Mr. Puffin is actually a… a…” Sula looks to her sister. “What’s that bird called again, Linn?”

  “A zebra finch, Sula. But he looks like a puffin, and Sula loves puffins, so… that happened.” Linnea places the plastic bag on Sula’s bedside table with a flourish. “I brought you some liquorice. Don’t tell Aleks.”

  Someone knocks at the door.

  “Oh, speak of the devil.” Sula hides the bag of liquorice under her pillow as Linnea goes to open the door. “Hi, Doctor Ardelean.”

  The doctor in question is a young man Maren’s age, wearing an easy smile and a strange red hat alongside his scrubs. Strawberry-blond hair, amber eyes, the only colour standing out from his sterile white clothes. The tag attached to his coat reads Aleksander Ardelean.

  “How are you, Sula?” The doctor bends down in front of her bed. “Feeling better?”

  Sula nods, forcing a smile. “I’m not coughing as much as I used to, and I don’t feel as tired. Can I go home soon?”

  At the corner of her eye, Maren sees Linnea stiffen. “Maybe in a week,” her sister says. “If Aleks says you’re well enough.”

  “Yeah, one week more and I’m sure you’ll be able to go home,” Ardelean agrees. “Don’t forget to take your medicine and lay off on the candy, okay?”

  The sisters exchange a knowing glance at that.

  “Is there anything else we can do today, Aleksander?” Linnea asks. Maren, in surprise, notices how her voice is tight with worry. “Something to help Sula feel better?”

  “Not much. Just keep doing what you did before, Linn. Things are getting better, and they’ll keep on getting better.”

  Ardelean stays for an hour, keeping Sula company as Linnea fetches basins of water and towels for her sister to wash herself, new clothes for Sula to change in and a stack of worksheets she turns her nose up at. “Really?” Sula asks incredulously. “I have pneumonia, and my teachers are worried about my grades?”

  The girl smiles at a stack of get-well cards, though, spending a good amount of time telling Maren about her friends. “Erika, she’s the one who gave the green card, is one of my best friends,” she says. “Her older brother is scary sometimes, but he’s nice, I guess, once you get to know him.” She points to another card, white with a messy red scrawl and doodles of birds and dragons. “This one’s from Ka Yu, another of my best friends. She bet that I was too chicken to do this challenge where we put a detergent pod in our mouths. But I did it, so she gave me Mr. Puffin!”

  “I don’t like her,” Linnea adds briefly, wringing out a face towel and hanging it up. “What kind of friends bond by eating Tide Pods?”

  Ardelean leaves when his pager rings, giving a few reminders to Sula with a grin. Linnea turns away when he talks and hides her expression. With a muttered “Thank you”, Linnea walks out the room, her heels echoing in the hallway. Maren, with only a few seconds of hesitation, follows her.

  Linnea is sitting on a bench in the corridor outside, scrolling down her phone with tired eyes. With a glance out the window, Maren realises that it’s getting dark, but raindrops are still pelting the ground below. She sits down next to Linnea. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “It’s getting late. When are you heading home?”

  “I don’t know. You can go first.”

  “Linnea?”

  “It’s fine,” she insists. “Really. Thanks for staying, Maren.”

…

  The fifth and sixth time Maren sees her, it’s pouring. Linnea’s clothing is as dull as the sky, her cerulean eyes reflecting the dismal gray of the storm clouds. They stay at the hospital for hours on end, arriving in the afternoon and leaving late at night. They talk to Sula, to Aleksander, to each other. 

  Maren learns more about Linnea in their many conversations. She’s twenty-one years old, four years younger than Maren, and studying world history at the university in town. She went to Berwald’s high school when Maren was studying in Denmark. And Maren tells Linnea about herself. She never went to university, she works at the local bicycle shop with her best friend, she goes to that bar run by old Kirkland every Friday. 

  After leaving the hospital, Maren walks Linnea home, to a small apartment complex in a quiet part of town. The younger girl always nods, thanks her, on the sixth day she smiled at Maren (and she likes replaying that smile over and over in her mind), but her shoulders are curled forwards in exhaustion and there are bags over her eyes.

  Neither of them talk about that, though. Linnea gives her phone number to Maren on the evening of the fifth and they chat the night away, sending photos and exchanging jokes like middle school besties.

  She learns more, and tells more. Aleksander is one of Linnea’s childhood friends; one of her classmates, Ka Wing, has a younger sister close to Sula. She’s kind of jealous of Berwald for getting married and having kids before she did; she was in the debate team back in school.

  She saves Linnea’s contact in her phone as “Linn”.

…

  The seventh time Maren sees her, a storm is thundering through town. They’re both running for the hospital, hopping over puddles and dodging lampposts.

  They shiver once they reach the air-conditioned entrance of the hospital, blinking under the bright lights, blinding compared to the dim sky outside. Linnea wipes fallen leaves off her umbrella, Maren shakes hers dry. 

  “Is there stuff in my hair?”

  She turns to face Linnea, eyeing her golden locks for sodden leaves, blades of grass. Nothing. Maren’s eyes wander down to her face, catching once-bright blue eyes that stare without seeing and puffy with tears that may or may not have been shed the night before.

  “Nothing.”

  They don’t talk again until they reach Sula’s ward, and Linnea puts on her big-sister mask. “Hi, Sula.”

  “Hey, Linn.” Sula is sitting up in bed, playing on her cell phone. “Hi, Maren. Guess what?” She continues when Linnea stays silent. “Doctor Ardelean said I can leave next Wednesday! I don’t have fever anymore and I don’t feel like trash, I—” Sula collapses into a fit of coughing and Linnea rushes to her bedside.

  After a while of Linnea comfortingly rubbing Sula’s back and passing her a bottle of water, the girl continues talking. “Okay, I still kind of feel like trash.”

  Maren approaches Linnea’s side. “You’re doing good, Sula,” she says. “You’ve got an awesome big sister and her friends looking out for you! You’ll be back to eating soap and taking care of your bird in no time!”

  “They’re Tide Pods.”

  “You’ll be back to eating Tide Pods and taking care of your bird in no time, then.”

  “And I’ll have to go back to school and suffer tests again.”

  She laughs a little. “Well, that’s life.”

  They talk like that for a while, telling stupid puns and laughing at stories. Linnea cuts in as Sula is telling Maren about shenanigans with Ka Yu. “Don’t strain yourself, Sula.”

  “I’m fine, Linn,” she protests. “I’m just a little tired.”

  Linnea goes off collecting supplies for Sula again, helping her change into new clothes and passing her damp towels to wash her face. Nobody talks about how she slumps while carrying basins of water or her heavy steps when approaching the nurses. 

  Aleksander drops by occasionally, refilling Sula’s IV and giving Linnea a hug when she yawns. “You’re a great sister, Linn,” Maren hears him say. “Don’t beat yourself up if you can’t handle everything. You’ve gotta take care of yourself, too.”

  The two of them stay in Sula’s ward until almost eight in the evening, when they walk down to the hospital’s canteen for dinner. Linnea barely gets anything down before returning upstairs, leaving Maren to pack leftovers for her. They share a batch of liquorice with Sula, playing a game of chess and taking turns competing against each other.

  And, all of a sudden, it’s eleven o’clock and Sula is nestled against her sheets, snoozing away. Linnea brushes her sister’s hair from her forehead with a wry smile. “At least she’s getting enough sleep now.” Maren follows her out of the room and into the bench they sat side-by-side on three days ago.

  Linnea drops down onto the seat, exhaling sharply. She rubs her eyes, blinks, yawns. And she starts crying.

  Maren sits down next to her and wraps an arm around her shoulder, unused to seeing the composed girl breaking down. “Linnea?”

  She wipes at her tears, head bowed. “I’m fine,” she tries to say. “I’m just fine.”

  “No, you’re not,” Maren insists. She pulls Linnea closer, surprised when the other girl’s breath hitches and she starts crying harder. “You’ve been dead on your feet these past few days. You won’t let anyone help you, you’ve practically become on of the nurses and hell, even Aleksander says that you’re working too much! Why aren’t your parents here helping you out?”

  “They don’t care.” Her voice is quiet, barely a whisper. “They pay for Sula’s hospital fees because they don’t want her dead. They don’t care how sick she is, they just need her to live. I’ve been taking care of Sula for almost two weeks now, and I’ve barely been scraping by my classes in uni and I don’t want to fail, but I can't just leave her here!” She buries her head in her hands, shoulders shaking with sobs. “My life is a mess, Maren, and I have no idea how to deal with this.”

  “Sleep,” Maren says firmly. She helps Linnea sit up straight again, staring into eyes flooding with tears. “You need to rest, Linnea. Forget everything for a while and just sleep, okay?” An arm still around her, Maren holds Linnea tighter as she leans into her and rests a head against her shoulder.

  From the window, Maren hears the sky boom with thunder and flash with lightning. Linnea sleeps through it all, her chest rising and falling evenly with every breath. Maren doesn’t remember when, but at some point darkness takes over and she passes out.

  The next morning, Maren wakes up lying against the bench, a killer cramp stabbing through her neck. Linnea is nowhere to be seen — not on the bench, not in the hallways, not in the still-sleeping Sula’s ward. The clock on her phone reads 10:43 a.m..

  Ding!

  She looks down at her screen, almost dropping her phone when she realises it’s a text from Linnea. 

  Linn   Thank you for staying with me. 

…

  The eighth time Maren sees her, the sky is bright and so is she. Three days after spending the night with Linnea, neither girls hear from each other again until Wednesday, when Sula is discharged from the hospital. Maren receives a text message from Linnea at eight in the evening, grinning madly when she reads it.

  Linn   Sula’s home today. Come over and have dinner with us, okay? I’m cooking.

  She runs for Linnea’s apartment complex as fast as her legs can carry, almost getting run over by some driver who flips her off through the window. Maren arrives at the building in less than ten minutes, out of breath and grinning like crazy. She presses the buttons on the speaker panel, listening as it crackles, before Linnea’s voice sounds over the static. “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s Maren,” she says. “I saw your text, so, uh… yeah.”

  The door clicks open and Maren dashes inside.

  She knocks on the door of Linnea’s flat, waiting for what seems like forever until she opens the door. Then Linnea steps into the doorway, and Maren freezes.

  No more dull clothes mirroring the dull sky — now Linnea is wearing all-blue as clear as a summer day, a sailor-collared shirt and matching skirt, eyes sparkling and the faintest hint of a smile on her face. Even her clip seems brighter. “Hi, Maren,” she says.

  She doesn’t reply, trying to remember how to breathe again. 

  Linnea rolls her eyes and grabs Maren’s hand, pulling her into the apartment. 

  Sula waves from a sofa, tapping away on a laptop with a similar smile. She isn’t coughing any more, her face no longer sallow. A bright flash shows up on the screen and she gives a tiny cheer. Linnea heads for the kitchen, humming quietly to herself.

  Their parents are nowhere to be seen. Maren, remembering what Linnea told her, stays quiet, flopping down on the sofa next to Sula. “Hey.”

  “Hey, Maren.” She’s playing a computer game, looking away from shooting demons for a while to glance at the older girl. “Thanks for coming over. You’ve made Linn a lot happier, you know. She smiles much more now.”

  “And you’re feeling better, right?”

  She nods, blowing up enemies with a flourish. “I get to go back to school tomorrow, but a lot of my friends dropped by today. The homework’s going to be a nightmare to catch up with, but hey, at least I’m alive, unfortunately.”

  “Unfortunately?”

  Linnea appears out of the kitchen before Sula can reply, holding a steaming pot with mitten-clad hands. “Dinner’s ready.”

  She passes plates of food to Sula and Maren before serving herself. “I haven’t made raspeballer in a while, so I hope it turns out fine.”

  Sula polishes off two plates of the potato dumplings, holding her plate out for a third. “I haven’t had your cooking in so long,” she quips. “And the hospital food was trash.”

  “You excited for school tomorrow?” Maren asks.

  “Excited to see my friends, yeah, but not for, y’know, school. I’m going to ask Ka Yu if I can copy all the homework I missed.”

  “You’re not copying anyone’s homework,” Linnea says, cutting into a piece of meat. 

  “Not even for math?”

  “Especially not for math.”

  “I mean, you’ve been sick for a while, so you can kinda copy,” Maren says. 

  Linnea glares at her.

  They finish the rest of their dinner talking, laughing. Sula goes back to her computer game after dinner, calling her friends while playing. Linnea and Maren sit side by side on the sofa, and Linnea rests her head on Maren’s shoulder like she did before. “Thank you,” she murmurs. 

  “For what?”

  “For keeping my hopes up these two weeks, and making me happy. Sula was hospitalised for almost a month, and I was failing classes to take care of her. Thank you for helping me out.”

  “You're welcome?”

  “And I noticed something, since you’ve been coming to the hospital with me.” Linnea sits up and turns so that she’s facing Maren. “Maren, do you like me?”

  Maren fervently glances at Sula, still engrossed in her phone conversation, before making eye contact with Linnea, deciding to be honest. “Yeah, I like you. In that way.”

  She smiles, inching closer still. “I like you too, you know.”

  “I, uh…” Maren finds herself getting lost in Linnea’s eyes, intoxicating and dizzying. “A-Are you asking me out?”

  Linnea nods, a blush slowly spreading across her face.

  “Well, I mean, I like you and you like me so we could totally date, and, so…” her face feels hot when she realises she’s rambling. “Yes, I’m so going out with you.”

  And suddenly Linnea is kissing her, lips against hers and slow and sweet and Maren feels like her heart has stopped, perhaps she’s died and gone to heaven because it feels like an angel is kissing her—

  Linnea’s face is bright red when she pulls away and she ducks her head, avoiding eye contact with Maren. “Sorry,” she mutters. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

  She wraps an arm around Linnea’s waist and pulls her closer, lifting her chin so that their noses are almost touching. And they kiss again, Linnea melting into Maren’s touch. She doesn’t say it, but the message is clear in her eyes: “I love you.”

…

  Maren stops counting the days they meet after that. She stops looking at the sky too, for every day it’s a breathtaking blue.