Lala
"Do you still love me?"
The question echoed in my head like a haunting song, twisting inside my chest. Her voice was soft, almost uncertain, as if she was walking on broken glass. I wanted to answer—God, I wanted to answer. But the words stuck in my throat.
I stared at Celestia, who sat still on the bed, her pale fingers fiddling with the hem of her blanket. Her eyes, though unseeing, felt like they were boring straight into my soul.
"I…" I swallowed hard, hands clenched at my sides. "Of course I do, Celestia."
But she didn't react.
She tilted her head slightly, her lips parted in what looked like confusion—or was it doubt?
"Then why do you sound like you're lying?"
I flinched. "I'm not lying," I whispered.
She leaned closer. Her voice dropped, almost cold. "You left me, didn't you? You said you'd be there forever. So why am I waking up in a world that doesn't remember me?"
I took a step back, guilt slamming into me like a train. "I didn't mean to— I was scared. I didn't know how to help you."
Celestia frowned. "Is that love, Lala?"
I couldn't breathe. I felt like I was drowning.
Celestia
She was cracking.
Her silence, the tremble in her voice, the tears welling up in her eyes—I could feel all of it. Every word I said was a needle, and she was bleeding guilt.
Was this too cruel?
A part of me wanted to stop. But I needed to know. I needed to see if she still cared, if any of it had been real.
I shifted on the bed and sighed deeply, letting my voice fall into a whisper. "Maybe I should just disappear again. No one would notice."
Her face twisted. She opened her mouth but no words came out.
And that's when I lost it.
A laugh—sharp and sudden—burst out of my mouth before I could hold it in. I covered my face, trying to muffle the sound, but I was already shaking with laughter.
Lala's eyes widened, horrified and confused. "Wh—What?"
I grinned through the tears. "Oh my God, Lala... you should've seen your face!"
She blinked. "Are you—what the hell—were you acting?"
I nodded, still giggling. "You looked like you were about to faint!"
She stared at me, stunned, then groaned loudly, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at me. "CEL! You psycho!"
I caught it with a grin. "Guilty."
But behind her exasperated glare, I saw it—the relief. The way her shoulders relaxed. The way her lips twitched, trying to hold back a smile.
She still loved me. I could feel it.
And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.
Celestia
My laughter slowly died down, fading into an uneasy silence. The air in the room changed—heavier, quieter. It wasn't uncomfortable, just… uncertain. Like we were both waiting for something neither of us could name.
I heard her shift slightly, maybe staring, maybe looking away—I wouldn't know.
My fingers gripped the blanket tighter.
"Lala…" I broke the silence gently. "What kind of person was I?"
She didn't answer.
"Was I cheerful? Quiet? Generous? Arrogant?" I asked again, my voice soft but searching.
Still nothing.
So I pressed further. "What kind of things did I do for you? Were they… good things? Did I make you happy?"
The silence stretched.
"Did I make promises?" I whispered. "Did I keep them? Or… did I leave you too, like you left me?"
Lala
Her questions were knives wrapped in silk.
I wanted to speak—God, I wanted to. I wanted to tell her she was everything. That she was sunshine and thunder all at once. That she made the world feel less lonely. That she was the only person who ever truly saw me.
But how could I say all that… when I threw it all away?
My throat burned. The words stayed caged inside me, trapped behind guilt that had taken root and grown claws.
She didn't know what I'd done. She didn't remember the nights I ignored her calls. The moments I chose silence over support. The times I said I cared… but vanished when it mattered most.
How could I tell her what kind of person she was… without revealing what kind of person I became?
So I just stood there, frozen, every question echoing louder in the silence I left behind.
Lala
The silence sat between us like a third presence—loud and suffocating.
Minutes passed. Maybe just one. Maybe ten. I lost count.
But I couldn't run anymore.
"You were…" I started, my voice hoarse. "You were kind. So kind it made me feel small sometimes."
Celestia didn't speak. She just listened.
"You were the kind of person who could barely see the world but still saw through everyone better than anyone else," I continued, forcing the words through the lump in my throat. "You—God—you were there for me when I didn't deserve it."
I took a shaky breath.
"Even when you couldn't see the tears in my eyes, you still knew when I was breaking. Even when I pushed you away, you stayed. You always stayed."
I sat down on the edge of her bed, slowly, carefully, like the truth might shatter if I moved too fast.
"You'd text me at 2 AM just to remind me to breathe. You made me laugh when everything in me felt dead. You listened when I didn't even know how to speak."
I looked at her—at her calm face turned slightly toward me.
"You were my anchor," I whispered. "You never treated me like I was a burden. And I don't know how you did it, Cel. I don't know how someone so… broken could still hold me together."
Celestia
I felt her words more than I heard them. Each one landed softly, like petals falling on my skin—but they carried weight. A truth I didn't remember, but could feel.
My heart beat faster. There was pain in her voice. Regret. But also love.
Maybe I didn't know my past, but somehow… I knew she wasn't lying.
I gave a small smile, even though I knew she couldn't see it. "That doesn't sound like someone easy to forget."
Lala let out a weak laugh, one laced with guilt. "You weren't. Not even for a second."
Celestia
"Wow," I said softly, my lips twitching into a bitter smile. "I was really nice to you, huh?"
Lala blinked. "…Yeah. You were."
I tilted my head slightly. "So nice, it sounds exhausting."
She opened her mouth to respond, but I beat her to it.
"You know what's weird, Lala?" My voice stayed even. Calm. Almost too calm. "Hearing all that—hearing how I used to be—it doesn't make me want to remember."
She tensed. "What do you mean?"
"I mean…" I paused, trying to find the words for a feeling I didn't understand. "If I was really that kind, that… selfless… then I must've been carrying a lot. And something about that doesn't feel right to me."
Lala didn't speak.
I continued, "There's this heaviness in my chest whenever I try to reach for the past. Like something inside me is screaming don't look back. Like it'll hurt more to remember than to forget."
I ran my fingers over the blanket, grounding myself.
"I don't know who I was, but something tells me she suffered more than she ever let on."
A quiet beat passed.
"So maybe… maybe it's better this way. Maybe forgetting was a gift."
Lala
My heart dropped.
There was no anger in her words. No blame. Just… resignation. A strange kind of peace that made my stomach twist.
She was talking like someone who had seen too much darkness—even if she couldn't remember it.
And the worst part? She might be right.
I looked at her, the girl who had once been everything to me, and realized how deep the scars must've gone beneath that gentle smile I used to take for granted.