Tissues · in · the · Corner

“Tabula Rasa”

“And even though it never worked, I still feel love for you.”

- Vertical Horizon, “Sunrays and Saturdays”

Lying to others is easy.  It’s lying to yourself that’s the tricky part.

Even with someone as overbearing as Yucie, enough answers of “I’m fine, really!” will eventually convince her.  Sure, she’ll still worry, but for the most part she’ll back off.  It’s just how things went; she cared, but she was as thick as bricks.  The others were easier to lie to, but she knew it wasn’t because they didn’t care as much.  The five of them were like sisters; surviving something as monstrous as the Eternal Tiara can do that to a girl.

No, they just respected her boundaries more.  Kokoru would worry, yes, but she was too timid to ever say anything about it.  She would discuss it with Beth, and Beth would assure her she had nothing to worry about.  As for the Fairy girl, she would never make much of it.  Of all of them, she knew what it meant to have something you needed to deal with on your own.  Erumina would be as impassive as ever; she would worry, but she would never let you know.

And Yucie, that over-energetic ball of joy, would worry.  She would ask her, when no one else was around, just what was bothering her, but she would sooner tell her father (yeah, like that would ever happen…).  So, after another quiet refusal, she would go to Arc, and Arc would listen and be encouraging before telling her that she needed to give her her space.  Arc wasn’t directly part of their group, but he was close enough thanks to Yucie.

Still, when it all came down to it, she just didn’t know how to tell them.  As far as she knew, Erumina had never been in this kind of situation.  Yucie had had Arc since they were kids, and she knew nothing would be able to come tear those two apart.  Beth and Kokoru – while still in denial for the most part – were practically joined at the hip, so they couldn’t even sympathize.  In reality, she was all alone in this.

You see, she loved someone – a prince.  And he loved her.  He had even asked her to marry him.  And though she had only known him for a few days, she had been ready to say yes.  There was just one tiny hitch, and for most people it would probably have been nothing, but…not for her.  Her prince was a frog, and while he could turn into a human he liked being a frog.  He was born a frog, and he thought human forms were disgusting.  His name was Amphi, and they had met when he had come to town searching for a cure to a curse that had been placed on his sister.  He had turned himself into a human to make traveling easier, and that’s how she had met him.  He was human, and she had fallen in love with the human.

A few days may not seem like long enough time to fall for someone so hard, but that’s what happened.  From the moment he first smiled at her, wedding bells were sounding off in her head.  She had known he was the one; she had even told her father about him (causing him to come rushing to prevent his precious baby girl from ever marrying).  She had known, and she had loved knowing.  She had laughed at Yucie that night at the beach, mocking her for how gaga she had gotten over Arc, but really she had been jealous.  And then Amphi had shown up, and it was bliss.

And as soon as it came, it left.  She made the cure, he healed his sister, and they both turned into frogs – poof! – right before her eyes.  She could face hordes of monstrous demons and not once break a sweat.  She could turn people to cinders, not once feeling a pang of remorse for their loss.  She could face the world and conquer it all, and never once feel the teensiest shiver of fear.

But she could not, for the life of her, face a frog.

She couldn’t even say why.  Maybe she had had a traumatic childhood experience with one of the slimy green demons.  Maybe one had tried to eat her.  She didn’t know what caused it, but she knew it was there, a deep, almost irrational psychological fear of frogs.  She couldn’t stand them, and she could never be near one.

She had learned how a heart breaks in that briefest glimpse of time.  When he had taken her hands in his own tiny, green ones, asking her to be his bride, she had snapped.  She had screamed in denial, tossing both him and his sister out of the window.  She had heaved, screaming and shaking and trying her best to breathe as the world crashed around her.  And then she had left, choosing to just walk for as long as it took.  Her friends had followed her, concerned, but she wouldn’t talk to them.  How could they ever understand?

It wasn’t even that the man she had loved turned out to be a frog, the one thing in all the worlds she hated.  No, that could be understandable.

What they would never understand – what she knew they would never, ever understand – was that she still loved him.  After throwing him half-way to Hell and screaming that she hated his tiny green self, she still loved him.  And the truly amazing thing?

She knew he still loved her, too.

He had been at the concert her friends and she had put on as part of their Platina Curriculum.  He had been there with his sister, jumping up and down in the audience near Yucie’s pet friend Mokorin, cheering her on.  He had even sent her a present for her graduation.  She had been shocked to see the tiny gold statue of him, though it had made her glad to know he still remembered her.  She had brushed it off as an old wound when Beth had inquired about it, and as far as they knew it was in a trash heap somewhere, or even melted down for other trinkets.  They didn’t know it was in her room, tucked away in the drawer of her nightstand.  They didn’t know she held it close every night as she slept, imagining that – just for one night – he would be beside her, fully human with no traces of his froggy past.

No, that was something they could never, ever know.  If she could have it her way, that is.  She knew they’d probably figure it out on their own.  Some of them were good at things like that.  She knew Yucie wouldn’t, though, so for the time being she was ok with it.  If Yucie figured it out she’d have a problem; Yucie loved to meddle even more than she should when relationships are involved.

And as her thoughts were drawn back to her bubbly friend she found herself sighing.  She paused in her stirring of the viscous goop in the black cauldron before her, and she found herself watching the lazy bubbles plip and plop against the surface.  It was unsteady and almost reckless, much like herself.  In an ironic kind of way, Yucie was the same way.  Yet where her rash streak came from demonic roots and a lifetime of being worshipped as the perfect princess, Yucie’s almost foolhardy actions sprung from pure emotion and a heart way too big for anyone to safely have.  They were both spitfires, roiling under a deceptively calm surface and likely to go off at any moment.  Just like her current potion.

Maybe that’s what made it so easy for Yucie to see through her.  Maybe that’s what made it so easy for Yucie to see through everyone.

The bell over the door jangled as a stream of murky, evening streetlight swept into the Magic Shop.  She stood straighter and returned to her stirring, trying to appear as professional and commanding as possible.

“We’re closed,” she said.  “Or will be soon, so be quick about whatever it is you want, got it?”

“How quick will a talk be?” the customer asked, and Gurenda looked up to see Arc standing across her cauldron, arms folded over his chest and curious eyes staring down into her brew.  She frowned as her stirring paused again.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.  He kept his eyes trained on the potion, shrugging slightly.

“Can’t a guy stop by for a chat?” he asked.  She raised a brow and leaned on the ladle she had been using to stir.  She gave him a sneaky grin, and he frowned as he glanced up at her.  “What?”

“Normally, sure, but not you,” she said.  “What’s really going on?”

“Well, you’ve been acting weird lately, and -” he started, and she sighed.

“And Yucie wanted you to come and pry me for information because she knew I’d never talk to her if she did it,” she said.  “Well what makes her think I’d be any more willing to talk to you, huh?”

“I’m more detached than the others,” he said, shrugging.  “You could tell me and know that I probably won’t be telling them.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” she said, picking up her stirring to distract herself from the annoyance that made her want to take the ladle and slam it down over the prince’s head.  “You’d have to tell Yucie by unofficial couples’ law.”

“And if I told you I was just worried myself and had no attachment to Yucie or anyone else?  That I just wanted to make sure you were ok because Yucie keeps saying how distracted and miserable you look?” he asked.  She paused and looked down, her eyes flashing a glimpse of some indescribable pain for the briefest of moments.

“I’d say you were a terrible liar,” she said stiffly.  He sighed and looked back to the potion, biting his lip.

“Well, it’s a mix of the two,” he said.  “What’s really going on, Gurenda?  You can’t lie and brush it off as nothing - too many people are noticing now.”

“What if I didn’t want to talk about it?” she asked.  He threw his eyes skyward, biting back the annoyed snap she knew he wanted to toss her way.

“Stop the mind games, Gurenda,” he finally said.  “Is it something with your father?”

“Of course not - I can handle that old disgrace!” she said, laughing slightly.

“Then what?”

She tensed, though she wasn’t entirely sure why.  What was that in his voice?  Concern?  Yes, obviously, but it was a mix of something else, too.  What made him care so much?  She was just a friend - and a semi-distant friend at that!  What did he care if she was treading the millions of tiny shards her heart had burst into almost a year ago?  What did he care if she was still pining for some frog?

“A…Amphi,” she said after a long moment, and his eyes widened.

“The prince of the Frog Kingdom?” he asked, and she hesitated only once before nodding.  He frowned.  “Yucie said you hated frogs, though - that you hated him!”

“Yeah, well, she’s wrong, ok?!” she snapped, her arms working faster as her agitation grew.  Arc frowned, showing - as she knew would happen - he didn’t understand.

“I don’t get it,” he said, confirming her hunch.  She sighed and stopped, looking down at the slow boil of the potion.

“How could you?” she finally asked.  “How could any of you?  You all have someone that you can be with.  You’d never understand – you have Yucie, and you’re always gonna have her.  I…you wouldn’t know, Arc, but when you love someone so much that all you can do is think about them, and then they’re taken from you…you can’t forget that feeling overnight.  Do you have any idea how long it takes for a broken heart to heal?”

She saw him look down, and he sighed.  He finally shook his head, not bothering to look up at her.  She had got him, and for once she knew he didn’t know how to respond.

“No,” he said.  She smiled slightly.

“Too bad,” she said, continuing her stirring.  “I would have liked to know.  It would make the wait for it easier.”

But he wasn’t leaving, even though she considered the topic closed.  He struggled for a moment, maybe trying to think of something to validate an argument he was trying to form.  But what could he argue her with?  What could he say to make any of it better?

“Gurenda,” he started, continuing only once she had looked up at him, providing her undivided attention.  “Don’t do this to yourself.  You’re right – I can’t possibly know what you’re going through.  Not first hand, but I’ve seen it.  I’ve seen people in your situation, and I’ve seen what that unattainable love does to them.  I’ve watched them waste their life away in misery because of some stupid mistake in their past keeping them apart.

“Don’t let yourself get like that, Gurenda,” he finally said, and her grip tightened on the wood.  “Don’t let yourself turn into one of them.  Just…it would be better for you if you just forgot him.”

Satisfied with his reasoning, and apparently thinking his mission complete, he gave her a nod and walked to the door, opening it to a hazy purple prenight glittering above the rooftops.  He paused once more, looking back to her in a moment of hesitance as he said, “Please, at least try to forget him.”  Then he was gone, and she was left to her brewing.

With a sigh, she released the ladle and turned to the table behind her.  She ran a hand along the aged tome spread open before her, and her frown deepened as she read over the final instructions.

“Don’t worry, Arc,” she said, her hand lingering over the silvery script.  “That’s exactly what I plan to do.”

Part II