imaginarynetwork | 01, text | un: dearsunshine

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01, text | un: dearsunshine

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)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He has a lot of thoughts. And feelings. But first.]

can i come

[She sure feels a lot happening over there... It's probably fine.]

omg
literature is for everyone u dont need to ask my permission hehe (⋈＾◡＾)
ofc u can come!!! (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*。id love to see u there!!!

well idk maybe its everyonen except me! idk if itd be weird for me to be there
natsuki said i used to write poetry tho
so i thought

yeah

anyway

i like your poem
but its sad too
like natsukis

[He can't hold all these sad girls :^( ]

[Oh. That does sound familiar. That... It hits something in her heart that she can't pinpoint right away, but—]

yeah!!! yeah shes totally right!
i liked your poems they were rly good!!! （⋈’∀’人）♥
so u should def come to literature club and keep writing them (o˘◡˘o)

[And that's that!!!]

im glad you like it ♥♥♥♥♥♥
there are sad parts but there are nice parts too! like i said ill find them all eventually (*´▽`*)
and natsuki writes a lot of nice things too youll prob get to see some of them if we all go to literature club!

why do u have to find them all by yourself tho
thats the sad part

natsukis was really good im not saying it wasnt
i just
dont want ppl to be sad haha i guess its stupid when i put it like that

some of the ones i found w me when i woke up here are pretty sad too
the ones i guess i wrote
or at least i wrote some of em

[Jesus. There's a resonating, aching fondness across the Oath.]

no way its not stupid at all!!! (╯•﹏•╰⋈)
it sux when ppl u love are sad!
but...sometimes ppl have to be sad i think

[She doesn't really know how to explain why she's searching alone. Not here, like this. The fear that someone who knows more about her than she does will tell her the truth and she still won't be able to remember it for herself — that that's all she'll have to tell her what's real and what isn't.]

idk its kind of hard to explain haha (〃￣ω￣〃⋈)ゞ
thats why i write poems bc i feel like stuff makes more sense that way!
sometimes i dont rly know how to say everything im feeling otherwise u know?

u know
if u had poems with u that u didnt write
you mustve liked poetry a lot!!! （˶′◡‵˶⋈）

yeah thats true
sometimes ppl have to be sad
and nobody can fix that

[He doesn't say anything else for a bit, thinking on this. Not upset or anything, more just pensive. This seems like something he learned, once. Something he forgets periodically. He thinks that's true.]

[Hm.]

no i get u
its hard to explain shit
i think some of mine are like that too

i think
i think the ones i had with me that i didnt write are
somebody gave it to me
somebody wrote a bunch of poems and notes on em
cuz reading someones writing is like getting to know them
i havent talked about it rly cuz that seems too personal to tell anyone else
but its not a book i bought
its a book somebody made just for me

[She means to say something. Something else about sadness and making space for it, especially when you don't want others to see it.

But she gets stuck on somebody gave it to me. Her brain sticks on that and he keeps explaining and it just digs its heels in deeper at that juncture.

Reading someone's writing is like getting to know them.

It itches in the back of her mind. It itches like her own fingers digging and digging, scraping and scraping inside of her head. She should probably explain, but she forgets, because suddenly she just single-mindedly needs to know. (Know? Know what?)]

can you tell me some of the titles?
of the poems

[There's actually some hesitation here. Even showing it to Sayori — it feels safe and okay, but he's protective of this book. He knows it's private, that it was only given to him after a long build-up of trust.]

[So although he does what she asks, he makes the conversation private first. And even then, there's one poem's title he knows he won't share.]

um, the first ones "dear sunshine"
then theres "bottles"
"caught in the rain"
"snowstorm"

"lights"

[Dear sunshine.

She looks at her own network username and it hits her like a freight train. She doesn't remember every word, but with every new title title she knows, she knows—]

mista
thats me
dear sunshine

i wrote that stuff

[Wait.]

[That — that does make sense. He should probably have figured it out before, he knows. It's obvious. But—]

[He pulls the book out of his bag and looks through it again. He didn't have to to remember the titles, but he wants to look at this poem specifically to be sure.]

[%]

[This emotion, it's complicated. A sinking of his stomach, half from guilt over looking at something that isn't his, half from fear and worry over her. If Sayori wrote this, something's wrong.]

[But he knew that already, anyway. Didn't he.]

yeah
i guess you mustve

do you want me to give it back?

no
i definitely made it just for you
you should keep it

[She'd say the same thing regardless of what she felt on the other end of the Oath. Still, she doesn't understand right away. She has to make a few leaps of logic. He was sad to read the poem she posted here, because it meant that she was sad.

So for him to be feeling this amount of sick, conflicted worry, there must be something even sadder in that book. Right?]

are you ok?

[That does make him feel kind of relieved, that she doesn't mind him keeping it. It's felt important to him since he woke up with it next to him, that's why he's kept it by his side, but knowing it's from her just makes it more so. Explains a lot, too. All the little notes.]

[Still, it doesn't wash away the sick feeling. He hedges, thumb rubbing a slight smudge on the page.]

not rly
im not sure what to do
theres some stuff in here that it feels weird i know and you dont

are you
do you wanna look at it
you dont have to
but i dont know how to explain it otherwise
but i can try

[She...wars with herself. She still doesn't know how to explain her fear, but it's there as she considers this offer. There's something in her that wants to look away, too. Or— not simple want, but an instinct, like she's supposed to look away from it. Like you pretend not to see the spider that just darted by in the corner of your vision, and you tell yourself it's fine, it probably wasn't a spider anyway.

But it's not fair to ask Mista to hold this, either. And...she has to keep looking. Even if what she finds is a creeping black critter.]

its okay you dont have to do that
i want to see it
im just

[A pause. The typing indicator shows a lot of attempts to write something.]

im scared ill read it all and still wont be able to remember writing it

[He waits. Patiently, if worriedly. And when the answer comes, strangely, he feels relief, because what he needs to do next seems so simple all of a sudden.]

i get that
i dont remember writing mine and some of them are about things that happened that are really bad
some of those things i dont remember either

if you dont wanna look at it today its ok
i just need to know youre ok
and it can wait until another time

or if you wanna do it now im gonna be here with you

either way i love you a lot

[All he can do — all he has to do — is walk the path with her. Whatever it ends up being. That's what he's here for.]

[The anxious prickle persists, but there's a blanket of comfort over top of it. Because she feels like...no matter what happens, if Mista is with her for it, she'll be safe. She'll be okay even if it's not okay.]

i love you too
so so so much

i think i wanna do it now before i lose my nerve lol
i can come find u if thats ok

yeah
come find me
ill be ready

[He's in his cabana when she finds him, having sent a firmly-worded text to Alex that he is Not to return to the cabana for at least an hour. This text was then followed by equally firmly-worded texts denying any hanky-panky. "Sad memory shit" and "girl crying" finally ends the conversation. It's a very stupid conversation.]

[Once it's resolved, he sighs and throws his arm over the back of the couch, looking out towards the ocean. Man. This is gonna be hard.]

[She had to come over from the Roswell Center, and it occurred to her about halfway through the journey that she could probably Virtualize the rest of the way right to his bracer. She doesn't, because she doesn't want to scare the shit out of him, but. She should probably tell him that she can do that. For next time.

This is a less uncomfortable preoccupation than the hanky-panky conversation, at least.

She sidles up to the cabana a little more casually than she really means to, her steps both idle and bouncy as she ducks around the privacy curtain. Despite the circumstances and the slight furrow in her brow, she smiles when she sees him, because just seeing him makes her happy.] Found you.

[Like hide and seek? Get it?]

[It's the same from the other direction; he hears her voice and looks to her and smiles, crooked on one side. Found you, she says, and he reaches out his hand for her.]

Hey. Does that make me it now?

[The smile grows a little brighter as she steps in to take his hand.] Ehehe. I think it does.

I'm not gonna hide though, [and she plops down on the couch next to him, settling underneath his arm] so maybe we can both be it.

[And she won't have to search alone, so maybe he won't have to be so sad about it.]

[That's nice. How she takes his hand and slips under his arm in one motion, snuggling up beside him on the couch. It's too hot for this, really, but he doesn't care. This is where he wants her, so much his whole heart kind of hurts.]

That sounds good. [He kisses the crown of her head and pulls the book into his lap, resting mostly on the leg that bumps up against hers.] Two heads are better than one and all that.

[. . . It occurs to him that maybe he could offer to trade with her, later. She could help him seek, too. But not right now. This is already a lot.]

I dunno how you wanna do this. From the beginning or . . .

Yeah, the more the merrier. [Oh they're using it correctly this time. Arc development!

It's hot, and Mista runs warm, and she's already way too toasty but she's absolutely not moving from this spot. This is her spot. It feels right to be here, so this is where she's going to stay, especially after that soft kiss.

She hums in thought.] From the beginning. I've been writing in my journal since I— remembered that I do that, so...I think I probably would've told the story in order in this book.

[And if that's how she told it, that's probably how she should read it.]

[He nods. It makes sense. Even if that means she'll get to the one that worries him pretty quickly . . . it's the right way to do things.]

Okay. I'm ready when you are. [Steady. Not nervous, not really. He might be in a little bit, depending on what happens, but for now he's calm at her side.]

[She takes a deep breath in. Then lets it out, slumping a little closer to him as she does.] ...Okay. I'm ready.

[So she reaches for the book. Gingerly, even though she knows she's the one who made it, because— even though she made it, it's not hers. It's Mista's. So she's careful, so careful as she opens the front cover and starts to read.

It's her own handwriting, without a doubt. It's exactly how she would say the things this says, the little note at the beginning that explains her reasoning for giving this to him.

The first poem strikes her instantly with nostalgia. Dear Sunshine. The first poem that she shared with...the Literature Club (wow, that explains a lot.) The first poem that she shared with anyone, she knows. The actual poem is cute. It makes her smile. The notes, though—

It's about that boy.

She keeps reading.

Bottles. If Dear Sunshine was happy nostalgia, Bottles is the sad kind. The melancholy in it feels like home, after you've turned all the lights off to listen to a rainstorm outside. The similarities with the poem she just shared strike her immediately, so much that she almost feels like she doesn't need to read the notes.

She does, though. And speaks again after a moment; not about the conflicted knot of feelings, or the facts she can infer from the book, or the shards of memory that still aren't entirely coming back to her, but...something she wants to know nonetheless.] Which one's your favorite?

[He sits with her. He listens. He presses against her, hip to knee, and keeps himself deliberately close enough that she can curl into him if she wants or needs to. And he feels her through the Oath, not ready to jump in and fix things, because he can't, he knows, but . . . to open himself up further, if that's what she needs. To be what she needs, if he can.]

[The feelings that are building into a complex, indescribable shape in her chest are still on his mind when she asks him that question; still on his mind when his expression goes from pensive and attentive to purely happy, as he ducks his head and leans over the book.]

Lights. My favorite one is Lights. I like all of 'em, but this one is—

[He flips the page over to it, and realizes he doesn't have to say it. It's all right there in Sayori's own words. His crooked grin is almost too fierce to speak through, but he says it again anyway.] This one's my favorite.

text | un: mrbellucci

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