SOTF Archive/SOTF Classic

"Mm. She hasn't."

Because, Michael knew, if Yuka had, she wouldn't have still been with Teresa.

The announcements had called her a 'simple and effective' murder. Same as they'd called Camila.

He still wasn't sure if she'd been murder. Wasn't sure whose decision it had really been.

He slowly lifted himself from the glass, feeling his vertebrae shifting back into place.

"And I don't look for people. I let them come to me."

And it wasn't a party if it happened every night.

'Tap tap tap tap, tap, tap tap tap tap, tap tap tap tap, tap,' against the glass.

He still faced away from the rest of the Gucci Gang.


"...Y'know this isn't real, right? None of this was ever real. We don't exist. Don't think we ever really did. Hope y'all realize."

"The party in the sky's right here, Mickey." The voice came out more monotone than she liked. It'd been a while since she spoke to people.

Saku left with some randos she didn't really care about as fast as she'd arrived. There was a twinge pulling her in her direction, but she ignored it. Such things weren't as urgent now. They weren't on the island anymore. There'd always be another time to talk with Saku, catch up, shoot the shit.

They had all the time in the world.

Teresa brought up her sisters. She winced a bit. It didn't matter.

"Mm. Goatfucker here's right. I've been waiting a few days for them. They'll come around eventually. Everyone does here, I think."

She caught view of some of the cameras in her peripheral vision. Only a few were still in motion, the rest trained on long-immobile bodies.

"And, does that matter? Still feels real to me."

She placed her left hand on top of the salt shaker. It felt nice having ten fingers again. She appreciated that about this place.

She then unscrewed the cap of the salt shaker, dumped the rest of its contents on Michael's head, followed by the shaker itself.

"That still feels real to you, I imagine."

"It doesn't."

The salt shaker clanked against the pinball machine.

Same as he ever was. He hadn't really felt real since the suicide attempt at the menagerie.

It had worked, in retrospect — the suicide attempt. He knew the symptoms of a severe amphetamine overdose. He pretended like he didn't, but he knew. The worst of the physical symptoms had started around the same time as Lizzie'd been shot. Muscle spasms. Fluid building up in his lungs. Hyperpyrexia. Acute amphetamine psychosis had been the first symptom to show.

He'd been living on borrowed time since the first day. Even if Arizona hadn't killed him when she had, his heart would have just given up around the same time.

In retrospect, the reason he couldn't get over Beryl was that she'd been what had given him PTSD.


He closed his eyes, otherwise still not moving a muscle.

"I made a deal with Erika, when we both won the murder prize. I wanted her to take the gun. She killed your sister with it, I'm pretty sure."

He inhaled.

"So hit me again, and make it real this time."

Teresa snickered. "Why do you always wanna get bitch slapped so bad? You're such a strange dude."

She picked up the plate of pizza and took a big old bite, chomping away as time froze until she said her turn was up. "Even if we wasn't real or whatever, I kinda don't think that shit doesn't matter any more. We died. Our stories are done. Go home and eat pizza."

Another chomp. It tasted just like cardboard. "But also, like... nevermind, whatever. Hit him, girl."

Yuka wiggled the fingers on her left hand. Clenched, unclenched. There was a sharp gasp of air.

Barry. Berry. Beryl.

"Ah."

Teresa mentioned her in the same breath as Yuka's siblings.

Yuka nodded to herself.

"You know, Beryl and I were best friends. Since childhood. She went over to our house and we played, talked, got makeup done, whatever. And, she had a lot of friends, she talked about a lot of people. I heard all about the Nick thing from her, for example.

"And, I find it odd that you're looking for her, according to Teresa, because, of all the people she mentioned, she didn't mention you once. Not a single time.

"Is that real enough for you?"

"..."

He inhaled.

Part of him still wanted to explode; to go and scream 'Fuck you. How the fuck would you know? You can't even remember my name half the fucking time. And Teresa's a crackhead. Fuck you. And you stole the goatfucker line from Catherine. Beryl was my friend too. She voted me for prom king. You're like Ivy except chartreuse.' at the very top of his lungs, but

but it didn't matter, and it wasn't worth it.

and he was tired of hurting people.

and Yuka's Beryl was real.


So he exhaled. Kept completely still.

"Okay," he stated, breathlessly.