Ah fuck, this thing again...

The hoodie was folded in the back of the wardrobe like a secret no one was supposed to find. Void hadn't meant to dig that deep - she was just trying to avoid thinking, and her fingers wandered where her mind didn't want to go. But the moment her hand brushed that familiar fabric, everything else stopped. Black cotton, as soft as Aura's sorrow. Worn elbows, sleeves stretched from Aura's habit of pulling them over her hands when the world felt too loud. Void stared at it like it might vanish if she blinked. Then she pulled it out and pressed it to her face...

happy birthday, love. another year.
wish i could hold you, pull you near.
you wear my face, but not my smile.
still, you've walked with me every mile.

oh great, here comes the birthday ghost.
with lavender dreams and a tragic toast.
what's next? tea leaves? moonlight lore?
you left, remember? i clean the floor.

i know, i know... i left too soon.
but i'm still there, beneath your tune.
you carry me in every breath.
a girl-shaped scar, a softer death.

you say that like it makes things fair.
you handed me your cross to bear.
no guidebook, no "just in case,"
only your tears on a pillowcase.

but look at you - alive, still here.
cussing fate and facing fear.
you walk through pain and laugh through ash.
you made your bed from broken glass.

yeah, well, i sleep like shit most of the nights.
i dream in static, flinch at every light.
but fine. some incense, then one deep breath.
a muffin, half-burnt like me, cheated death.

that's us, my friend. a crooked flame.
but burning still. and not in vain.
so happy birthday, void, cursed and true.
a half of me... but wholly you.

oh fuck you. i should hate this rhyme.
but damn it. just this one last time.
happy birthday, aura. wish you were here.
no toast from me though, i don't drink beer.
you blew out your candle. like you said, too fast.
now i'm left with the smoke, and a shadow that lasts.

Void woke up to sunlight bleeding through the curtains like a wound that refused to clot. It painted the room in soft, golden smears - too gentle for how she felt. The bed beneath her felt all wrong. Too soft, like it was trying to comfort her for no good reason. The pillow was still warm, like it had cradled someone else before her and hadn't cooled down yet.

This wasn't her bed.

This wasn't her life.

She laid still, blinking at the ceiling. Listening. There was nothing. No cars. No sirens. Just the hum of static somewhere behind her eyes...

Void woke up with a massive headache.

Not the usual tension bullshit or "screamed into a pillow for an hour" aftermath - but a deep, bone-crawling ache behind her eyes. Her limbs felt like they were moving through wet cement. Her mood? Think black hole wrapped in barbed wire.

She'd been lying on the couch for two hours staring at a crumb on the ceiling.

And it wasn't just the fatigue - it was the rage. Like everything was too loud, too much and she was going to break the next thing that dared exist near her. Which, unfortunately, was the fridge. She opened it. Stared inside. Forgot why she opened it. Slammed it shut. Stared at her hands like they weren't hers.

"This body sucks," she growled. "What the fuck is wrong with it."...

Void stepped into the supermarket, akin to a vampire accidentally invited into a sunlit cathedral.

It was bright. Too bright. Fluorescent lights overhead, colors screaming from every box and can on the shelves, every smiling logo silently deriding her.

Aura used to like this place. She had a route. She had a list. She hummed quietly under her breath and picked produce like it was a love language...