ups and downs - six
(6/?)
CW: arguments, suicide attempt. this episode contains a pretty heavy scene - if you're not equipped for that, please don't hesitate to sit this one out.
(next) (previous)
. . .
It's been long enough that Mabel can wake up to the sight of the ceiling or the closet and feel mostly at home. Home, where her worries are only inklings from the past, where her biggest hurdle is going to work and waking up early. Though — she squeezes her eyelids, vision unblurring — this time, it seems like she's had the opposite problem. Pink-orange washes over the bedroom, the metal frame of the window gleaming like the sun it frames. The edges of distant buildings poke out slightly from the edge, blackened into silhouettes, most of the world still sound asleep.
Mabel's first instinct is to roll back over and close her eyes, influenced by the weight dragging her brain back to drowsiness, but she feels she shouldn't. Not without looking over, reassure herself that her girlfriend is sleeping calmly, unburdened by bad dreams. She gently cocks her head and her half-lidded eyes freeze over the fading wrinkles in the bedsheets. Natsuki's not here.
Her legs chill with rushing blood as they suddenly go from numb to alert. A sigh drags out an icy cloud from her chest, heart tapping anxiously against her sternum, not quite pounding. She scans uselessly around the bedroom — still not here. Another sigh, let out this time through her nose.
She must have had a nightmare, maybe slept on the couch through the night. The soles of Mabel's feet prickle as she steps on the floor, standing up from the edge of the bed. She struggles not to shamble, firms her footing after one, two, three steps towards the hallway; relax. Everything is fine. She breathes in, out, and walks over. A glance around the wall, another ghostly, sharp jolt in the core of her chest. Nothing.
More blood slowly rushes, thin, down to her ankles. Maybe the kitchen. Another peek around the wall, and there's no one beyond the threshold. Through a shuddered breath, Mabel walks back around, standing in front of the bathroom door. If Natsuki's in there, then she'll have overreacted, but she has to make sure.
Two meager knocks echo in her ears. Five seconds pass, ten. She knocks again, asks if Natsuki's okay. Mabel gently opens the door. No one is inside.
The only sound she can hear is the drumming of her heart, reverberating in her eardrums. Her head goes numb, the blood rush leaving her anemic. She walks back to the bedroom, chuckles through a shudder; of course, she didn't check her phone.
She sits down on the bed, over the rumples Natsuki left behind, her vision forming a tunnel around the phone screen. Her heartrate gets loud again. Nothing, not a word, not a memo. Mabel sits, watches each letter from yesterday morning's texts blur into formlessness, her mind going blank. Her lips are left parted, her arms shivering in place. Her thumb wavers, the thought of sending a text like a current of urgency flooding her mind. She has to slowly, painstakingly type each letter, each tap punctuated by a sharp heartbeat, where did you go? are you okay?
The text bubble swims in her vision as it starts to wet. She watches the screen intently, waits for anything, any sign of life. Her heart explodes in her chest, blood going cold inside every limb, as she snaps her head to the sound of keys shifting inside the lock of the front door, echoing through the walls. She scurries off the bed, walks over, peeks from the doorframe, and watches Natsuki step inside, kick off her shoes, plastic bags in her hands. Mabel's vision sharpens suddenly, everything stark.
"Hey," Natsuki says, nonchalant.
Mabel blinks, her heart still frantic, but the freezing cold spreading through her chest slowly melts away into a sort of darkening heat. "Hey," she manages, the word lagging behind her throat. "Where… where were you?"
"At the grocery store. I didn't think you'd be up right now." Natsuki locks the door behind herself, sets the bags over the table, scratches her forehead.
"Why didn't you tell me?" asks Mabel, immediately, the words flying like bullets from a barrel.
Natsuki's eyes peer over her, her brow furrows slightly. "I woke up early, couldn't go back to sleep, I figured I'd be back before you even woke up—"
"Natsuki, that's not a reason. You have to tell me about these things," her voice shakes, slightly — noticeably? She can't tell.
Natsuki steps back at the same rate that Mabel steps forward, and it's only now that she's noticed they're this close. She looks frail, easy to lose. "We ran out of eggs, man, I think that's a pretty decent reason to—"
"It doesn't matter. You leave the house for anything, you tell me, text me, wake me up, whatever, all you have to do—"
The sound of Natsuki wrestling her shoulders out of Mabel's grasp is sharp, sudden. Uncomfortable heat flares in the joints of her wrists as her eyes widen over Natsuki's posture. Planted, guarded, forearms raised at the height of her stomach. There's an indescribable look in her eyes, in the way they snap between each of Mabel's.
Mabel looks down at her shivering hands, hairs standing on end. Her bloodflow settles, slowly, alongside the feeling of regret burning in her gut. "I'm sorry" weakly crawls out of her lips, comes out as a faint whisper.
"Jesus," Natsuki breathes, slowly returning to a comfortable posture, still watchful as she walks over to the plastic bags, picks them up, and disappears into the kitchen.
Mabel's knees feel weak. The most prominent feeling she's left with is that of her cheeks burning under the skin.
. . .
The attention required for work is grounding enough for Mabel. She keeps her head raised, divides her focus between her breaths and the tasks at hand. She and Natsuki will occasionally glance at each other as they exchange trays and cups and paper bags. Each time, it feels softer, less heavy, less intense, a silent conversation. Mabel's chest feels lighter. She's gotten to apologize without words, it feels like.
Time marches on, the sun arching higher in the sky as they near the third hour of the shift. Break is a few minutes away. Mabel feels slightly tired, but she ignores her body's whining and firms her steps, tries to keep her vision sharp. The sound and feeling of her phone vibrating in her pocket, against her thigh, shatters her focus like high pitched noise to a wine glass, and she's still for a few seconds. Setting a full cup of coffee down on a nearby countertop, she fishes the phone out from her pocket. Her heart jumps slightly, the words beneath the cutesy cat icon like an all-too-familiar symbol.
"Mabes," Natsuki calls out. "Wake up." She's stern, but not angry.
Mabel sets the phone on the countertop, leaves it to vibrate again. "Yeah, sorry," she says, hurried, as she grabs the cup and walks over to hand it to Natsuki. She hesitates for a moment, and as the cup changes from one hand to another, Mabel stammers. "Uh, listen, I need to step out for a sec. I'll be quick."
Natsuki grumbles under her breath. "Swear to God…. okay, fine. Don't leave me hanging."
Mabel nods, returns to her phone, and heads for the back door. The air outside washes over her, and with a quick glance to her surroundings before she leans against the wall beside the door, her attention is back to the screen for as long as it takes for her to accept the call.
"Hey," she breathes.
"Hi," says Sayori.
Mabel hears a slight crackle on the other side. Sayori pauses, then speaks again. "How's it going, Maple-girl?" There's a cheeriness in her voice that spreads relief through Mabel's chest.
"Uh, good. I'm at work right now." She chuckles.
"Oh, sorry! I can call again later, it's—"
"No, no. I have… time."
"Mm. Okay." Mabel can hear Sayori clicking the roof of her mouth.
"… Did you wanna talk about anything?"
"Oh, well, not really. I just wanted to know how you were doing. You know, since you moved in with Wonder Girl over there," Sayori giggles.
"I'm— we're doing pretty well, yeah. I already have most of my things at the apartment, work is at a walking distance. We're doing great."
"That's good," Sayori says. It's simple, but there's a palpable genuineness in her tone. "I'm happy you're okay."
"Mhm." Mabel smiles. "Um, Yuri and Monika treating you well?"
"Oh, yeah! Uh, I had a bit of a bad time a few days ago. You know, kinda just rotting…" she chuckles emptily. "But they were patient and nice and encouraging. So I'm all good now. Also, we're going to a concert this Wednesday!"
Mabel chuckles softly. "Yeah, that sounds fun! I hope you enjoy."
"Mhm!"
Mabel relaxes against the wall, even if it slightly bothers her shoulders. She stares at the sky, the shadow of the coffee shop casting a shield over her top half. Her gaze quietly moves to the floor, to her foot wiggling slowly in place. "How's the…"
When Mabel turns to her side, her arms go cold. Natsuki's arms are crossed as she stands at the edge of the door, staring at her as if trying to pry through her eyes and look inside her head.
"Uh, yeah, I gotta get back to work. See you."
Sayori says something Mabel doesn't process, and eventually the call ends on its own. She quietly places her phone back in her pocket, looking over at Natsuki. "Sorry."
"Yeah? Good." Natsuki steps over, her hands shifting from the nooks between her arms to the valleys of her hips. "Sure hope it was a fun convo."
"It was." Mabel clears her throat. "I'm sorry for leaving you hanging, I kind of just…"
Natsuki's eyes narrow, waiting for a follow-up that never comes. "Kind of just what? Just got super enthralled calling whoever-the-fuck? We're on the clock. I can't do everything on my own."
Mabel sighs. "I know. I'm sorry. Can you… please calm down?"
"Calm down," Natsuki snorts. "Yeah, sure, dude. Really rich of you to freak out on me for sneaking out. You think I'm out messing around and then tap out to go chat with some other person."
"Natsuki, that's not what…" She shivers. Her footing feels uneven, frail. "That's not what's happening."
"Who were you talking to?"
"Sayori," Mabel breathes.
Natsuki pauses, shoulders ever so slightly unstiffening. "Fine. I'm glad she's that important to you."
She lingers on those words, takes a second to let them hang in the air before she turns on her heel to walk back inside. There was something venomous about her tone. Mabel sighs, squeezes her fingers against her palms, lets the shadowy feeling of guilt slowly wane out of her through her breaths. She walks back inside. The conversation she and Natsuki were having doesn't follow them, silence in their gazes, but the words aren't left behind at the back exit.
. . .
Afternoon, sunset and evening bleed into each other. Mabel and Natsuki have spoken fleetingly, both suffocated by a cloud of tension that follows them both around and coalesces anytime they're close. Mabel's thought to make a joke about sleeping on the couch, thought to apologize again. Her throat wouldn't let her; she'd close up the moment they got within speaking distance. So, as the clock hits nine, and they've separately showered and brushed their teeth, Mabel settles into bed next to Natsuki, who curls towards the wall beside the bedframe, facing away.
Time ceases, it feels like. There's a fog in Mabel's mind, coming and going since the early morning, since the… incident. She sighs, holds the tips of two fingers against her sternum, feels her pulse. She's stable. Nothing is in her mind, besides what feels like a wall of clouds. That wall feels… weighty, pressured, as if it's holding something back. Mabel tries not to think.
She rolls over countless times, replays conversations in her head that could have gone better, reminds herself of worse times. Stubborn, her brain refuses to let her sleep for what feels like an hour, maybe more — the sky hasn't changed in color.
Sayori used to count sheep, and now so does Mabel.
The skies are darkly grey. It was sunny moments ago. Her legs feel hurried, yet reluctant to walk. The path is straight, close by, no turns around the street, and yet it feels like the pavement stretches for miles. Her steps quicken.
The front door looks locked, but it's not. It's dead silent. Her footsteps are the only source of life around the house, every room she goes through briefly given the illusion of activity, only having it taken away when she leaves for another. Eventually, she makes it to the stairs, and they too feel nearly infinite.
Everything is dark in this hallway. The window at its end lets no sunshine through. The architecture feels unfamiliar, unwelcoming, suddenly hostile to her. She's overstaying her welcome, feels as if she's forsaking some rule by being here. She's overcome with an urge to treat everything in this house as if it doesn't belong to her.
She gently opens the door.
Come on. Come on. Come on. Come on.
Her breaths are thick, pained, her chest pumping blood through her arms as they press down, over and over and over and over. Her shoulders strain, force being pulled from every other inch of her body.
Come on. Come on. Come on. Please. Please don't. Please.
A cycle in her mind, blending out of shape, her hands shaping into one thing over the girl's chest, pressing down. She could hurt her. She could break her ribs. She tries not to think, only act, knees tough against the floorboards as she keeps pumping. Her shaky, strained breaths are constant, scratching against her throat. One desperate scream slips out between.
Please. Please don't. Please don't. Please don't.
Sounds and sights blend like swirling wastewater. A flurry of footsteps around her. The chill of the wall against her back. Chatter drowned out by muffled sirens. Her throat hurts, her cheeks sting, her vision blurry. The girl disappears behind the double doors of the ambulance, out of her sight.
"Who's the boy?" "Friend of hers. She would have died if he wasn't there." "Damn. Lucky girl. I can't imagine what would have happened."
She would
have died
if he wasn't there.
I can't
imagine
what would have happened.
Mabel's heart is pounding again.
. . .
The sky has hardly changed color, the stars likely still in their right place. The moon is just as static, eyeing Mabel down, shining a weak light upon her. She holds her hand against her chest, feels her heart pump blood in differing rhythms — no matter which, it's still too quick.
Her head feels heavy, now, and it's not much better than the fog that settled before, now gone in place of what feels like shallow flames burning inside her skull, like the remnants of a fire. She's thought about getting water, but her limbs and joints feel covered in rust. She can't leave the couch, can't push herself from the armrest. Even her eyes struggle to move away from a nondescript spot between the houses below.
Her memory is as stubborn as her heart, flashing across her mind's eye. She closes her actual eyes, tries to push the visuals away. Her phone is nearby, and she thinks to call Sayori again. She shouldn't. There's no need. She has people taking care of her. Hopefully she's sleeping well.
Mabel doesn't jump at the sound of footsteps quietly rustling behind her. She doesn't turn around, even if a small part of her wants to.
"Hey." Natsuki's voice is quiet, gentle, carefully swiping away the cloud of smoke inside Mabel's head.
She swallows. "Hi."
More footsteps. The weight shifts on the couch behind her, just barely. There's a long stretch of silence. Natsuki, again, quietly, gently, chips away at it.
"I'm sorry. That I got jealous."
Mabel takes a moment. "It's okay, love."
"Yeah," she breathes in. "It's stupid, but… you know. My dad was a piece of shit, but it didn't help that my mom just… walked. I had him, my two dickhead friends and, well, you."
Mabel turns, first with her eyes, then with her neck.
"You're the only one I had. The only one I… have." Natsuki struggles to say the words. There's a weakness hiding behind her tone. Tears start to form in the corners of her eyes, and it makes Mabel instinctively shuffle forward, but she restrains herself.
"I know. I'm not leaving," she says, simply, truthfully. Natsuki nods, eyes on the seats of the couch, on the small gap left between the two of them. Her hand comes forward.
Mabel quietly slips her fingers beneath Natsuki's, lets them slip under each other. Like a yin-yang, they curl together, Mabel's thumb resting over Natsuki's knuckles.
"I'm sorry I lashed out at you." Mabel sighs.
"Yeah. 'S alright." Natsuki purses her lips, glances between each joint of each finger.
Mabel slowly turns back to the window. The moon looks slightly different in a way she can't put to words. "Night's pretty today."
Natsuki mumbles. "Mhm." Her hand feels quite still, as if it's playing a part in holding back words. The thick silence finds them again, for longer this time.
"Do you... wanna talk about it?"
Mabel looks back over, eyes bouncing between Natsuki's features. The thought scares her, but Natsuki's gaze is earnest, present. She watches the absent swiping of her thumb, left to right, as if cleaning a spot on Natsuki's hand. Mabel squeezes, Natsuki squeezes back, an exchange that, if put to words, could sound something like I trust you, I trust you too.
"Yeah. I want to talk about it."
They gently part, facing each other.
(this one was hard to write, even for me. there will obviously be other emotionally heavy scenes throughout the series - it is called ups and downs, aha - but I may try to keep things lighter until then. thank you for reading! I love you! please be gentle to yourself!)
@babs-butterfly @thefirstmatey @euphuistically @beddhead-red @sunflower-sayori
