01, text | un: dearsunshine

[hxppythxughts]

hi everyone!!! ＼(＾▽＾ ⋈)／ if we havent met or u dont remember me yet my name is sayori!!!
i remembered i used to write a lot and parfaitgirls poem rly inspired me
so i wanted to make a VERY IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT!!! 《《o(≧◇≦)o》》

i went to the roswell center bc i wanted to read some baislan poetry
and while i was there i asked if they had a club where ppl could talk about writing
and it turns out they didnt! (￣ヘ￣)
but someone heard me ask about it and got RLY EXCITED
so we got some of the students together to start a literature club there!!! ☆*:.｡.__〆(⌒▽⌒ ⋈)

so if u like to read or write and talk about literature u should come to the roswell center in the afternoons for literature club!
i may not be there every day bc we have a lot to do LOL but i should be there p often (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)
and ur welcome to come by if ur just curious too!!! (⁀ᗢ⁀) writing is rly nice but u wont know if u like it until u try!!!

and since this is abt literature i thought itd be a good idea to share one of my poems here too
if u want to tell me what u think then consider it a trial run for the literature club wwwwww (⋈ ≧▽≦)ﾉｼ))


[As promised, there is also a photo of a page in a notebook! it's in two images bc it was huge otherwise but it's one page i promise]



(transcription available here)

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[protegge]

[She’s trying so hard. He can feel the way she struggles behind her eyes in the magical current between them, her shifting gaze the only outward sign of the fight to articulate herself through all of these missing pieces.]

[Nobody ever smiled at her the way he did, she says. Not back home. But something about her home was wrong, wasn’t it? He thinks he knows that, although what kind of wrong is a strange half-opaque constantly-moving mystery, a messy beast that keeps slithering out of his grasp. Regardless, it shouldn’t be that way. She should always be loved, always be smiled at — when she’s dark and drawn more than ever. Someone has to be the sunshine when she can’t be, or at the very least an umbrella.]

[Even now, his smile’s lingering. A little sad, but very real, and all for her.]

I saw something awful, yeah. I don’t remember all the bits and pieces, but I remember how it made me feel. Sad and angry and . . . I dunno. It was one of those things where I knew I couldn’t stop it or really even make it better, which is hard. I hate when that kind of thing happens, ‘cause I feel so helpless.

But I do believe in you. All the things I learned about you before then, like how you were brave and strong and funny and cute, how you were kind and always made me smile even if I felt like shit . . . you know, every time I look at you I feel like everything’s gonna be okay. Just like you said. When I look at you I know whatever storm’s passing over is gonna pass by. No matter what bad happens, it’s not stronger than you. Even if you don’t believe that, I know.

[hxppythxughts]

[It's a struggle not to kiss that smile and just disappear into it. The further they get from the poems, the more tempting it is to abandon the idea entirely and leave the rest for another day.

The weight of their journals against her leg reminds her not to. Still, he says all that and she can't not kiss him, so she closes that small, secretive space and presses her lips to his again, short and tender and easy. He's just so— something about the way he says things is just so genuine. So wholehearted. It makes her want to believe him even when her brain tries to tell her that he's wrong about her. Like she'd told him a few weeks ago, she doesn't feel like she's any of those things, brave and strong least of all.

But...she feels more like she can be, with him believing in her. There's something so steady and reliable about him that makes it easier.

She still lingers close after stealing that second brief kiss and gives a bit of a bashful grin, flustered by the praise even so.] See? You trust me so much. I think you have for a long time. [What makes her think so, she doesn't know. She'll recall later, or he'll remember and he'll tell her. She can't get hung up on it right now.]

I wanted to trust someone like that too. I... [A small pause, and then, with some realization:] I think I needed to? So...you don't have to thank me for anything. I'm just— really lucky to get to love someone like you, ehehe.

[protegge]

[She kisses him. When she's done kissing him, she stays; doesn't move away except enough to breathe, to smile, to show him how pink she's gone at words that, to him, are common-sense truths. Leaning his forehead against hers, he huffs out a breath, overwhelmed and flustered himself.]

[See? You trust me so much.]

I — trust you with everything. [His nose brushes against hers with a slight movement, brow furrowing, sort of pensive.] Not just my life, but . . . all the bad stuff. I trust you're gonna still love me if you know all of it. Even if I don't remember it now, I remember the feeling of telling you and . . . you didn't go away.

So I'm lucky, too. 'Cause I need to trust somebody with the bad things. I wasn't really alone before, there were a bunch of people around, but I felt alone, you know? And I don't anymore, not with you.

[hxppythxughts]

[All the bad stuff.

Her heart twists in sudden memory, some gut-wrenching thing that rattles noisily off the shelf as he explains. Her hand lifts to her chest, gripping the front of her shirt as if to hold her heart inside her own body. It doesn't all come back, but she remembers him crying like she'd never seen before. She remembers the fear she felt from him as he confided in her. And the bone-deep, raw trauma of— of whatever it was that had hurt him, that he'd been holding inside for so long.

She breathes out a shaky sigh, suddenly needing a release for the tightness in her chest.] You—

[What can she say in the face of trust like that? She feels like she already put all her best words into that poem, but she presses on, clumsy but protective conviction as she leans into him and closes her eyes.] —I promise I'll stay with you as long as I can. You won't have to be alone with that stuff again. Anything you want to tell me, even if I don't remember yet— you can, okay?

[She wants to keep him safe, this boy who believed in her right from the word go. She wants to be worthy of that trust.]

[protegge]

[He's so used to being the protector, he doesn't think of himself as needing protection. If he were presented with the idea of someone wanting to protect him, objectively, he'd probably say it'd feel weird. But the wave of fierce emotion that comes from Sayori feels completely natural. Like a space would feel empty between them if it weren't there. She's always kind of wanted to protect him, he thinks; she must have. Because that's just who she is. Down comes a bottle to save the day.]

. . . I know.

[As seems to happen so often, his feelings echo hers. Clumsy, soft, protective. His chest feels tight. To ease the tightness, he pulls her close again, squeezes her against him. Kisses the top of her head and nods, nods, nods.]

I'm not afraid of telling you stuff. Or I guess . . . I wouldn't be afraid anyway. But I don't feel like I have to protect you from it. I just feel like, I dunno. We're partners, right? You have my back, and I have yours.

[Which is somewhere between the dumbest and most earnest way he could have put that, so. On brand.]

[hxppythxughts]

[It's easy to tuck herself more snugly into the space beneath his chin as he nods, kisses the crown of her head and sends a wash of warmth down her body from the point where his lips touch. God, it's hot on this island, but she wouldn't trade the warmth of his embrace for anything.

She closes her eyes and breathes in the familiar smell of him, letting it out in a contented sigh after a moment of holding it in her lungs.

Partners.

Something about it feels secure in a new way. There's something concrete there, like she's been sifting sand through a sieve and finally chanced upon something solid. This is something else she doesn't understand, moreso because it lacks the well-worn familiarity of many of the other strange things she's been feeling. She doesn't touch it, because she lacks the context to make sense of it, but—

It does make her happy. She doesn't know why, but it does. A light, relieved sort of joy. A giggle bubbles out of her before she realizes, and she nods too, squeezing her arms around him in return.] Yeah, totally. You're the best partner I could ever ask for, ehehe~

That makes us sound super cool, too. Like partners in crime!

["Cool" is probably not the word most people would use to describe this, but sure.]

[protegge]

Heh. Yeah, it does.

[Whether or not it's accurate, her assessment is clearly something he agrees with, if the pulse of satisfied amusement through the Oath is any indication. If that doesn't do it, the way he wraps his arms tight around her and squeezes is another hint.]

We'd be good at that, too. Except you're way nicer than me, so I think we'd have to do, like, Robin Hood crimes. Or maybe mysterious dessert deliveries, if we wanted Natsuki's help. [A beat.] Or to just make desserts really badly.

[Wouldn't that go back to being a really awful crime at that point, though?]

[hxppythxughts]

[Huh. Robin Hood crimes.] I think someone said I was like Robin Hood once. Because of my bow.

[She blurts that one out without thinking and immediately feels a little embarrassed, because Robin Hood is a hero and Sayori is just Sayori. But, true to form, she pushes forward rather than sitting in it.] So I guess I have some practice, ahaha~

[She snuggles a little closer into his embrace, though the journals are kind of getting in the way. Which makes her think of something. And she means to say something about the desserts too, and not wanting to do awful dessert crimes on purpose, but the more immediate distraction wins out for the moment, as it often does with her. So:] Hey, can I sit in your lap while we read the rest? I just— want to be closer to you. It feels safer.

[It is an entirely innocent request, but she does understand that it could be distracting for him, so it seems polite to ask first.]