"Tell me, Yori. Do you like my lips?"
Luisa stopped reading and lowered the book to her lap, looking at me. As if to follow her own question, she slightly pushed out her lower lip, making it look plumper than usual.
No one had ever asked me anything like that before. Come to think of it, Luisa always had plenty of silly ideas.
And what was I supposed to say?
"Hmm…"
"I noticed you often stare at them when I'm reading."
Oh…
It was hard to deny. I really did look at her a lot when she read. Sometimes at her whole face. Sometimes lingering on her lips. Why—I didn't quite know myself. Probably just trying to figure out where the voice was coming from.
Yeah… weird reason.
"What if I said yes? Would you let me touch them or something?"
Was it possible that in this world everything was that simple? Just ask and you get whatever you want? Not that I actually wanted to, but I decided to ask anyway, to see how she'd react.
A life that simple would be like living in an anime.
Wait. Like what?
Anyway, whatever.
Even though just moments ago Luisa had been deliberately pouting her lower lip, now they were pressed so tightly together they looked like a straight cut in paper.
At first she seemed confused by my question. Then, as if imagining something, she turned so red she could've invented the color itself. I even felt like the air around us warmed up, as if coals had ignited inside her.
A strange shiver ran through me as I watched her reaction. One I probably should keep to myself. Was I… looking forward to it?
Luisa turned away. Her hand rose to her face, and from the motion I could only guess she was touching her lips. When she lowered it, I could hear her muttering something under her breath.
"No… That's… weird."
Reality didn't work that way, after all.
Well, whatever.
"Now you read," Luisa said without turning, poking the book at me.
"Eh? But I'll take forever on one page!"
"Mhm…"
What was wrong with her? Was she upset? But about what?
By some strange whim, Luisa had asked the question—and I'd apparently dodged answering. Or just hadn't answered fast enough.
Maybe that's what was bothering her?
I didn't have time to think about it as Luisa insistently pushed the book at me. Its edge poked my ribs, making me flinch instinctively and squint.
It seemed that was the only answer I was getting. Not that it cleared anything up.
I took the book and placed it on my lap. Normally Luisa didn't care about personal space. In moments like that, it felt like her own laws outweighed even the constitution.
Now Luisa was acting unusually reserved. She pulled a pillow from the headboard and settled on it, a little farther away than usual.
She didn't lean on me. Didn't lie on me. Just…
Not that I was complaining, but it felt unnatural.
In the end, I decided to just start reading. Over the past week I'd learned enough of the alphabet to at least somewhat understand the text.
I still mixed up letters. Some looked like identical squiggles that just decided to pretend they were different.
So instead of bears hibernating in their den, I stubbornly got beans sleeping there.
Sure, in fairy tales anything can happen, but I don't think anyone would put beans in a bear's den for hibernation. Or… would they? Hmm…
I noticed Luisa sneaking glances at my face—as if waiting for something or searching. But for what?
Maybe she wanted to demonstrate that openly staring at people was wrong? Honestly, I had no idea.
One thing I could say for sure: the way she was looking at me made me a little nervous. It was hard to focus on the book.
If Luisa didn't sleep in the same bed as me, I'd probably just put the book down and go to sleep. Sleep always seemed like the best escape from any situation. But even if I tried now, it'd feel like a failed prison break—I'd end up back in the cell anyway.
"Are you mad?"
"No."
Luisa answered so fast I didn't even see her mouth open. As if the voice didn't come from her.
"Offended?"
"No."
It seemed like the first time Luisa answered so shortly and decisively. And worst of all, she didn't stop staring at me. Just her gaze felt like a cold wind blowing over my body, raising goosebumps.
"Then what?"
"You don't get it?"
Luisa narrowed her eyes so much faint wrinkles appeared on her face.
"Looks like it."
A second passed, and the tense expression on her face began to soften. Instead, she puffed out her cheeks—and showed me the middle finger.
What…?
"Are you threatening me or something?"
Truth be told, I had neither the strength nor the courage for violence. If she was really challenging me to a duel, I'd probably be in big trouble.
"Oh, no. Which finger is it supposed to be? This one…? Or this…?" Realizing her mistake, she frantically switched fingers in panic.
She even raised her ring finger. How did she do that? I had trouble extending it without lifting the others.
I tried the same, but no matter how hard I tried, it barely counted as extended.
But anyway, I got what she was trying to say.
"So…"
"Lips are for your beloved!" Luisa declared, sticking out her pinky.
"Oh…"
Apparently she really didn't know which finger you put a ring on. Though it didn't matter.
What had she even thought when I asked to touch them? Maybe I should've immediately clarified it was a joke? Thinking about it, that was the only reason I'd said it.
If I told her something like "let's get married" right now, how would she react? Stare at me in shock with wide eyes? Most likely.
The world was somehow built in such a way that a single tiny needle was enough to make its whole mechanism creak. That's probably why all of this felt so intriguing to me.
"I get it. Sorry."
"Really get it?" she asked skeptically.
As if forgetting her own words, her face was suddenly way too close to mine again. Maybe she had bad eyesight and I just hadn't noticed?
"Well… it's for someone special, right? For your… beloved?"
I pulled back and scratched the back of my head. For some reason, just saying it out loud felt extremely awkward.
"Uh… haha…"
She laughed so suddenly I froze for a moment.
What was so funny? Was she impressed I'd reached that conclusion? Sometimes I had serious trouble understanding this girl—or rather, most of the time.
"And you?" she asked out of nowhere.
"Me what?"
"Don't you have one?"
That was a strange question. Not because I didn't know the answer—it just didn't stir anything in me.
Maybe because of my age, I took it too lightly. Because of how she acted, I often forgot Luisa was older than me. So it wasn't surprising if it mattered to her.
A beloved, huh?
For some reason, just imagining it made me want to grimace. Thinking about it, I really didn't want someone else taking the other half of the bed. Then again, maybe I was just too young for that.
"Well…?" she nudged impatiently.
"I don't really care, I guess."
Luisa narrowed her eyes.
"Don't care?"
I could confidently say her talk of a "beloved" found no echo in my heart. On the contrary—it repelled it.
And yet, looking at that innocent face lit by the dim glow of what was probably a lamp, a sudden melancholic feeling stirred inside me. Like when we almost shared the helion. I wanted to carve out these ticklish emotions, the quiet sound of her breathing beside me, her familiar scent, and seal this moment forever in my memory. And that desire was unbearably… sad.
I didn't know the name for these feelings. And honestly, I didn't really want to.
"It's too early for me to think about that…"
In the end I chose the safest option, which was immediately met with laughter.
Seriously, what was wrong with her today? Was she really trying to pick a fight?
I hung my head, and my mind hung with it. Even though the conversation didn't mean much to me, it left a faint residue inside. Like being buried under a layer of snow, surrounded by winter chill. That's how it felt.
Less poetically, I felt really tired and somehow frozen. Reading probably wasn't for me after all.
.
When I opened my eyes, it felt like only a second had passed. The room was too quiet and dark enough that it was hard to tell what time it was.
My first impulse was to check the clock, as if I could be late for something. Not that it made sense—there'd never been a clock in my room. But the feeling wouldn't let go.
I wanted to get up, but my attention was drawn to the person lying on my stomach. How much longer was she planning to use me as a pillow?
I shifted carefully—and immediately felt Luisa's hands clamp around my wrists.
How… How did she even know what to grab in her sleep?
I couldn't help but admire her unconscious awareness.
"Just a little longer…" Luisa mumbled, burying her face in my stomach.
I almost deflated like a balloon. And for some reason—instead of annoyance—I only felt a heavy, warm resignation.
"Why is everyone in my family so… headstrong?" The question wasn't addressed to anyone in particular.
Though technically Luisa wasn't family, I already thought of her as one. Honestly, my parents' attitude toward her went far beyond just "watching a friend's daughter." Dad, for example, shared sweets with her while I slept. Sometimes there was nothing left for me.
And yet sometimes it felt like they loved her more than… me. Why—I didn't know. She just lounged around, disturbed the peace, invaded someone else's life. Ate for two. Made noise.
And yet—she shone.
That was probably it.
Not long ago I'd even complained when Dad gave the last berry bun to Luisa. And his response was just:
"So what? Look how happy she is. You jealous?"
"No, but… what about me?"
"There were only two buns," he replied calmly, shrugging.
"You could've saved me yours. Greedy!"
"Want to see a truly greedy person? Look in the mirror."
"People often say I take after my father."
As for Mom… their relationship was like a person with a pet. They exchanged greetings. Mom patted Luisa's head. Moved on.
Even more often than she did with me. Maybe she really thought Luisa was a cat?
And yet I couldn't be mad at her. I'd probably give Luisa Dad's bun too and wouldn't mind petting her. The heart always accepts what the mind dislikes, I guess.
"And why does she always sleep on me?" I grumbled at the ceiling.
"You're warm… and soft."
"Warm and… Hey!"
What was she thinking, calling my stomach "soft"? I wanted to tug her cheeks as punishment, but her head was still hidden under the blanket. I wasn't even sure she was awake.
A few moments later she lifted her head, throwing off the blanket and revealing her emerald hair. For the next few seconds I just looked at her. There was something mesmerizing about the way her wavy locks framed her face.
Like she was a dryad and only her face peeked out from the leaves.
"Why don't we sleep a little more?" Luisa suggested, yawning.
I didn't even get to answer before she buried her face in my stomach again. In the end, her brief moment of wakefulness changed absolutely nothing. I was still stuck under Luisa and the blanket. She was so fluffy, and lazily looking at her, I caught myself thinking that in a little while I'd dissolve into the fluff too.
What new joke would I hear from Dad if he caught us like this? That thought came to me as I drifted off.
It wasn't hard to imagine him crawling out from under the bed with a sly grin. Then saying something inappropriate—something that only amused him. And yet, between trying to escape Dad's teasing and sinking into Luisa's innocent embrace—I'd choose the latter. I guess Luisa and I weren't so different in that.
I ran my hand through Luisa's hair, petting her. Soft. I think I understood better now why Mom did it. Mine, especially when tangled, looked like a bird's nest made of carelessly dropped twigs.
"I'm hungry…"
How did she reach that conclusion lying on my stomach? I could swear mine hadn't growled.
"You really love to eat, don't you?"
"Just as much as you love to sleep," she said, lifting her head with a satisfied smile.
"Fair enough."
Probably both those interests were the main traits of our instincts.
"You should have more fun while you're still a kid," Luisa declared, rolling off me and stretching.
"You say that like you've seen a lot of life."
"Ho-ho-ho, I'm older than you. By a whole five years!" she announced proudly, flipping onto her stomach.
Looking at her propping her head with her hands and kicking her feet carefree, it was hard to acknowledge her as grown-up.
Though what did being grown-up even mean? When does youth end? And most importantly… what stops even a mature person from feeling young?
I pulled back the curtains, and my gaze shifted to the sky.
Through the tightly drawn clouds, I felt faint glimmers of light pouring onto me. As if seeping into me and spilling across the room, making it just a little—but still—brighter.
There, under the gentle weight of light pressing on my shoulders, my mind gradually cleared.
"You really are… old enough."
"Hey!" Luisa yelped, hurling a pillow at me.
I have to admit, despite the close range, Luisa handled the pillow with impressive skill. It hit me square in the face, as if she'd trained for years in basketball.
Basket… whatever.
More importantly…
"Hey! What if I'd fallen?"
"Your own fault. Never call a girl old."
That sounded unexpectedly reasonable. For a moment I even suspected Luisa could think.
"And guys are okay to call old?"
At that moment, it felt like time itself stopped around Luisa. She froze so dramatically I doubted she'd ever moved.
"Uh… well… um, no?"
Apparently, her wisdom only stretched to one sentence. Watching her smug expression shift to a guilty-silly one, I caught myself thinking I'd never get tired of teasing her from time to time.
"And men are born old already," Mom said, poking her head through the bedroom door. "So grumpy and grumbly. Like your father, for example," she continued, stepping into the room with her hands hidden behind her back.
"Mom? How long have you been there?"
I could imagine Dad eavesdropping, waiting for the moment to prove me wrong, but Mom… That was beyond me.
I wanted to correct her, saying Luisa grumbled a lot too, but Mom beat me to it.
"Though you grumble all the time too. Oh, you take so much after your father," she giggled, walking to the bed.
"Mom!" I protested, feeling my cheeks burn from Luisa's smug smile. "Why are you here?"
"I was at the market square and bought you girls these."
She brought her hands from behind her back, holding out two yellowish, long fruits that suspiciously looked like weapons. I think they're called "bananas." Whatever.
"What's this?" Luisa asked in surprise, taking one.
"It's…"
"A boomerang," I jumped in quickly. "If you throw it, it comes right back to your hand."
I signaled Mom with my eyes to play along. Mom raised an eyebrow, as if deciding whether to join the farce—and stayed silent.
From her expression alone, it quickly became clear she didn't quite get what I was talking about. So she was probably curious to watch too. Though I wasn't entirely sure about my own words either.
It felt like ephemeral nostalgia, when your body fills with warmth from something familiar. But a moment later, you can't even remember what it was.
"Boomer… ang?"
Luisa froze for a second, as if some truth had dawned on her. Then she awkwardly swung her arm—too wide, too hard.
I held my breath, watching.
The fruit traced a weird, crooked arc in the air, as if it itself had started believing it was a boomerang. For a brief moment, it even seemed like it might actually come back to Luisa's hand.
Then there was a dull thud against the wall.
The banana slid down and ingloriously fell to the floor.
I swallowed loudly and stared at the floor—my shoulders already shaking, barely holding back laughter.
"Liar! It didn't come back!" Luisa shouted, jumping off the bed.
"What are you talking about…? Nobody gets it right the first time," I said, cheeks puffed out, stubbornly trying to look serious.
Thanks to Dad's recklessness, I'd learned more or less when to stop. Things stop being funny the moment they turn from play into outright bullying.
Instead of watching the fruit smash against the wall again and splatter, I decided to show her how to handle it properly.
Pressing my nails into the edge, I peeled the skin and bit off a small piece.
"You've really never seen bananas?" I asked, chewing.
"Bananas?" Mom and Luisa asked in unison.
I almost choked from their surprise. It became obvious that in this situation, I didn't know anything either.
"It's aurilune," Mom explained with a suspicious look. "Though your head's always full of weird stuff."
In the end, she just waved it off again, probably chalking it up to childish imagination. Well, I was grateful for that.
"Ha! Gotcha!" Luisa cried triumphantly.
"Yeah, super tasty," I nodded, continuing to chew calmly.
I could hear Luisa muttering under her breath as she turned away. Looks like that wasn't the reaction she expected.
Picking up her aurilune from the floor, she peeled it and…
"You broke it!"
She held it out. It looked a bit… battered. As if, not knowing how to open it, someone had squeezed it, trying to force the inside out.
"Me?"
"You made me throw it at the wall!"
"Made you?"
There was some logic to her words. But was it really my fault that Luisa believed everything I said without question? Or was it? Hard to say.
"Fine. You can have some of mine."
"Some? You have no… uh-uh…"
Sensitivity? Compassion? I wasn't sure what she was trying to say. Honestly, I didn't feel like thinking about it.
I peeled the larger aurilune, broke off half, and handed it to her.
Watching Luisa climb onto the bed to take the piece, I felt a little embarrassed by her carefreeness.
"Um…"
"What?" she froze, holding the aurilune near her mouth.
"I can see under your skirt."
"Hey!"
Clearly flustered, she immediately rushed to fix her hem. Actually, given the situation, it was a bit weird that it bothered her. We even bathed together. So what was the big deal?
I glanced at Mom, as if she could give me an answer. But my words seemed to make her uncomfortable too. Maybe I was the weird one.
I hadn't said it because I was embarrassed. Or because I wanted to embarrass her.
I said it—because I noticed.
"You always do that," Luisa grumbled, diligently covering herself with her hand.
I didn't quite know how to respond. So I just stayed silent, finishing my half.
"Well, if you're eating it, my trip through the snow wasn't for nothing."
Mom said that to me, but her hand was still on Luisa's hair.
For a second I wondered if I should pretend to be offended too?
Whatever.
"Now, let's go," Mom said, getting off the bed.
"Where?"
"To eat."
During our little game, I'd completely forgotten Luisa was hungry. Though I was a bit puzzled why Mom was looking at me when she said "eat." Did I look that hungry?
Before going down, I glanced at Luisa one more time. She was still awkwardly finishing her piece, looking anywhere but at me. It was hard to admit, but unlike Luisa, I always looked at her. Maybe I was just really bold?
In good ways and bad, she was quietly filling my life and overwriting my memories. I couldn't remember waking up in this room completely alone anymore.
Would the day come when I couldn't recall my childhood without Luisa?
Probably. Actually, it felt like it was already happening.
Was it fate that brought us together? Or just luck? Either way, I couldn't just leave her like that.
"Luisa."
"Hm?"
I pointed at the aurilune peel, prompting her to look my way.
"What?"
"The color," I emphasized, wiggling my fingers.
A little embarrassed, she squinted, as if she couldn't see it. She stared for a few moments when suddenly a squeak escaped her mouth. One look at the faint blush on her face made it clear she'd understood.
"Shut up," she tried to sound stern, but her voice wavered.
As if confirming my words, Luisa hung her head, pulling her hem down to her knees.
"I didn't say anything," I shrugged, grinning.
"That's enough. Stop teasing the poor girl."
Now Mom's hand was on my head. I had no way to argue. Instead, I closed my eyes, letting her hand carry me somewhere beyond this room. Maybe even farther.
"Sometimes you're a real walking troublemaker."
"God, how rude."
"Really? And who ruined the fruit with her antics?"
She slid her hand to my face, pinched my nose between her fingers, and tugged, as if trying to turn me into a lying wooden boy. I involuntarily scrunched my face, as if to express my displeasure.
Though I couldn't deny it. Another trait I'd inherited from Dad. Sometimes I wished I took after Mom more. But for now, we had little in common besides hair color. And… my nose between her fingers.
"Exactly. You can be unbearable."
No one asked Luisa's opinion, but she gave it anyway.
I couldn't think of a better way to describe her personality.
I probably should've stopped. But every time Luisa got embarrassed, I felt a strange satisfaction—and for some reason, that was enough.
Leaving the room, Luisa followed closely behind me, as if afraid I'd notice something else. Weirdly, that just made me keep glancing back at her over my shoulder.
"If you say one more thing…" Luisa leaned closer, so close I felt her breath by my ear. "…you'll really regret not strangling me right away."
"Whoa."
Not exactly what I expected. From her voice, she wasn't joking.
I felt I was still too young to die. So I raised my hands in surrender.
The long strands of hair she used to hide her face really did make her look like she could curse me if I wasn't careful. How skillfully she switched from cute dryad to forest witch.
.
At least a few hours had passed since then, and nothing had changed—Luisa was still sulking at me.
During lunch she kept throwing glances my way, making it impossible to even remember the taste of the food. And now, propping her head on her hand, she stared out the window like an offended cat.
If I think about it, quite a lot had actually changed.
Maybe I really had gone too far? Though honestly, the stick was pretty thin.
Was it that big a deal if someone non-verbally pointed out the color of your clothes? Especially since I'd known it before anyway.
How mysterious.
Either way, I needed to smooth things over somehow. The problem was I had no ideas. I could start reading—but that would only annoy her more the moment I stumbled over every second word again. Not on purpose. Almost.
I glanced at Luisa one more time. The sun outside was setting, painting her face in a faint red hue that reminded me of leaves after autumn arrived. As if not just the season, but Luisa herself had taken a giant leap backward.
I wonder what Luisa was like this past autumn? Like she is now, or like this morning, for example?
I wanted to ask, but something told me she'd ignore me. Or hiss. Hard to say which I'd prefer.
And I didn't want to seem pushy. Funny that I only thought of that now.
If she called me annoying and compared me to a fly, for example, I don't think I'd ever recover. Even if said in anger, it would mean deep down she thought so, right?
I sighed and slid down the headboard, almost immediately getting sandwiched between two pillows. Waves of warmth washed over my head. They were so soft, so comfortable.
Honestly, it felt like I was doing something wrong. Like hiding. No—like running away.
If Luisa saw my frivolous behavior, she'd probably get even angrier. Luckily, I couldn't see anything except what was right in front of me. And I was probably invisible too, since my head was blocked. I noticed my toes drawing tiny circles in the air while I thought about it.
I sat up abruptly, shaking my head side to side as if chasing away sleep. Looks like I'd experienced firsthand what "running from problems" meant.
Though my rise was quite… dramatic, Luisa paid me no attention. While I sat there grimacing with my mouth open, she silently kept watching the setting sun.
"What do you see out there?"
In response she just shook her head side to side. I could see her gaze brush over me before returning to the sky.
"Nothing."
"Seems like you pay way too much attention to 'nothing.'"
I didn't even think before the words flew out. I even covered my mouth with my hands, as if that could take them back.
From her reflection, I could see she'd puffed up even more.
If this dialogue had happened in my head, I'd probably have found better words. So why did it always feel like someone else was speaking whenever I opened my mouth?
"Sorry, I…"
"For what?"
"Well…"
She turned to face me—and there was no anger in her gaze. Just tired disappointment.
"You don't even know, do you?"
It felt like guessing randomly would only make things worse, so I just nodded.
"Looks like even you can be reasonable from time to time."
What did she mean by that? That I'm usually stupid? Though it didn't matter.
"Yeah," I nodded again.
For some reason, in that moment—imagining Luisa might never forgive me, that we'd spend these days pretending the other didn't exist, and then she'd just leave—my mind fogged over. Impenetrable and exhausting, it drained the last drops of my willpower.
That's how a world without Luisa appeared in my head.
The scene mirrored those days when I'd lazed around for three whole years without leaving my bed. Though from the outside nothing seemed too different, inside everything was gradually changing—and I could feel it.
"I've never had friends and… well, I don't know."
I was too unreliable to be a pillar like Mom. At the same time, I suspiciously excelled at being frivolous like Dad.
No matter how much I didn't want to compare myself to him again—it was true.
I wonder if Dad ever thought about others' feelings after his pranks?
Speaking of which. No, not the time.
When Luisa smiled, I somehow forgot she actually needed a family.
And me…
Who was I to her?
Did she need a friend? Could I even be one? Or… was she just putting up with me because she had no other choice right now?
Thoughts like that quickly filled my mind, sticking together, tangling like a web. I suddenly got scared that if I lingered in them even a little longer—I wouldn't hold up.
Probably tired of my pathetic sight, Luisa sighed and glanced out the window one more time before standing up. Like dispersing the fog, she walked over to me.
She took my hands and squeezed them tightly. For a moment I even thought she'd try to twist them, but no. For some reason, in that moment I felt myself relaxing.
We hadn't talked properly for just a few hours, but the feeling of separation hit me harder than expected. Judging by the completely defenseless smile—one rarely seen on Luisa's face—she shared my feelings.
"So what am I supposed to do with you?"
"Love me, feed me, and never abandon me."
"Are you a pet or something?"
In a way, it wasn't far from the truth.
She laughed and petted my head with one hand, as if I really were some animal. With the other, she kept holding that strange, fragile bridge between us.
It even felt like this whole quarrel—if you could call it that—had brought us closer. It dragged out sides of our personalities we usually don't show strangers.
Maybe sometimes you have to go too far to understand where the real boundary lies.
…That was a joke. Moving on.