Forever

     Something about those bright colors always made her feel better.

     "Sora?" she asked, looking into a pair of cerulean eyes that were just the right distance from the strands of florescent pink hair that grew, like magic, from her pallid scalp.
     "Nana," Sora sighed, looking to a figure with an opposing color scheme: dark brown eyes and hair of the same, and skin that gave the deception of seeing years of sunlight.

     Sora's ivory dress, covered with frills from the waist down, gave no contrast to the white sheets , while Nana's dark blue lolita-style dress made of silk and lace insisted on making an exclamation, rather than a statement. The pure white sheets failed to hide the lack of innocence this room encased, nor did the white walls, the white wooden dresser, or the white nightstand. To Sora, this room was fairly maddening. The only things that were not white were the rainbow closet and the purple computer. The computer was the object of Sora's focus during awkward silences, which had recently become more frequent. Nana claimed Sora was addicted to computers, but in reality, the one who knew HTML and JAVASCRIPT usually proved to be more of an addict.

     Sora gently placed her hand in Nana's, hardly noting the perfect fir as they intertwined. Perhaps she had decided not to notice. She tried to deny any romantic feeling she had, especially for another girl. It simply was not something she spoke of. Nana was the opposite, openly obsessed with romance and thoughts of love. She squeezed Sora's hand and whispered,

     "Please stay forever."

    Please stay forever. Sora resented these words. A tear rolled down her porcelain cheek, glistening like glass that cut slowly into Nana's heart, growing deeper as it fell. Tears were what ailed Nana the most. For whatever reason, Nana tightened up and became defensive when Sora cried. Sora's tears were the only thing able to induce a sharp pain in her stomach by mere sight. To Sora, crying in front of Nana was no different.

     Nana hugged Sora, but there was no warm feeling. There was a certain emptiness Sora noticed was omnipresent on this day. She wanted to talk to Nana about this. This feeling, or complete lack thereof, exhibited by Nana unnerved Sora. Was Nana worried that Sora would not stay forever?

* * *

     Sora woke up first. This morning, it was her own bed where Nana silently slept. Nana had stopped dreaming. Sora felt like Nana had stopped feeling. This worried Sora, but she always kept silent. She never said a word about how she felt, other than saying that she loved Nana and Nana only.

     Sora stole away from her sapphire comforter to stand on her emerald carpet and stretch her arms, reaching towards an off-white ceiling from which a scarlet fan hung. The comfort of her own room could not suppress the discomfort she felt inside. She watched Nana, who was engaged in a dreamless sleep. She looked peaceful, dead even. She made no noise, no movement as she slept. Sora did not want to wake her, despite feeling haunted.

     Nana blinked quickly, then opened her eyes. Sora worried that her back cracked too loudly or that she yawned without noticing. Nana looked as empty as she did when she was sleeping. She resembled a zombie, a walking dead sort of creature. Usually, Nana was full of life. Her aura was almost like the rainbow gradient of the clothes she wore, especially her rainbow pinstripe pajamas.

     "Good morning," Sora said with a strained but hopeful smile.
     "... Morning," was Nana's reply.

     Months had passed, and the amount of lead in the pit of Sora's stomach had increased. She knew something was going to happen. She just knew. She sat at her mahogany computer desk, set up her portable easel, canvas, and watercolor palate. She grabbed a paint brush from her cup of last night's water. Nana never let her drink water that was left over from the night before, so she was sure to make use of it in the morning.

     "Sora, I have to go."

     Sora knew something was going on. For three months of not hearing a word of Nana, she knew that something was not right, that the situation was moving in a direction she had no control over. She tried contacting Nana, but nothing response came until Sora received a message saying, in essence, that she could no longer be her girlfriend, nonetheless her friend. There was no explanation, aside from an ambiguous ending statement of "I'm sick of this."

* * *

     Sora saw Nana from time to time, from place to place. She would wave and be readily acknowledged, but no words would be spoken. No smiles would appear on Nana's end, nor angry looks. It was like seeing a shell of someone she once loved deeply, a badly painted doll, badly painted because Nana, unlike Sora, knew nothing of make-up. Sora reminisced about how Nana's make-up skills paled in comparison to her own. Putting on make-up was like painting, and Nana was never quite the painter. Sora enjoyed thinking of such frivolous parts of their relationship. It lessened the pain of loss.

     On the fifth of November, one of the few days Sora wore her self-tailored black trenchcoat, she saw Nana once again at the bus station on her way home. Nana's bus was coming in fifteen minutes, so she could not run away this time. Sora told Nana exactly how she felt about the situation and subsequently asked Nana how she felt. Frustrated by five minutes of being ignored and silent, Sora stated, almost yelling, what it was she truly wanted to say.

     "I'm sick of this!"
     "Please," said Nana, a twinkle of sadness in her eye. "Please leave... forever."