Beach Day

28: Nothing More

"They're never going to love you, you know."

Tiff finds herself on the concrete slab in her dreams again, surrounded by more and more filing cabinets like spires of stone. She doesn't say anything. She just lets Nothing speak. They're sitting, this time. It's better than standing in the dark hall. It's better than drowning.

"Your parents? They're never going to let you come home."

"Can't I hope?"

"You can hope, but they're going to let you down in the way they have always let you down."

Tiff pulls her right knee up and looks out at the veins of stars around her, at the rings of a planet in the distance. The sword is already at her side, flickering between barbs and lily pads. "I know. But I want to give them the benefit of the doubt."

"They would hate you, if they knew what you were."

"Nobody here knows I'm aromantic."

"That's not what I'm talking about."

"Spit it out, then. All the cryptics don't suit you."

"Everything suits me. I prefer flannels."

"I think you prefer shadows, actually."

Nothing opens its mouth to speak.

She doesn't let it. "You don't have to say anything. I know I'm hilarious."

And she knows it's right.

This is a spot of peace, isn't it? This is a spot of upset. Connecting with something in her dreams is weird, but it isn't unheard of. It happens all the time, since she was sixteen and realized her mind was permeable to the right (and wrong) people. The question is of what this thing is, but she knows it won't give her an answer.

She sighs and looks out at the edge of the world. "So here we are."

"Here we are."

"Are we going to have another conversation about things I don't want to talk about that steadily gets worse and worse as I deteriorate the deeper we get into Dreaming?"

"We're not that deep. You're still awake, aren't you?"

"That's an interesting hypothesis. I guess we'll see what it means in a bit. Whether or not it's true."

"You do love a good theory."

"Whether or not I believe the things I say is up for debate."

"It makes you look odd. It makes you look more insane. But, then— that's the point, isn't it? Isn't that your whole modus operandi? Isn't that the way the world keeps turning?"

"It's not like I have a choice. I need people to think that everything I say is is hokum so they don't know if I fuck up and tell the truth."

"So you're content to live in a lie?"

"If it keeps everyone I care about safe, then yes. Even if they don't care about me in the same way. Like Drake. Like my parents. You know how it is."

"The way that it is? You're lying to yourself, too. I think you know that."

She sighs, leans forward into her knee. "I'm too tired for a repeat of all the things I said to Despina. I'm not afraid of myself; I understand I have rage, but it's not useful. Something something, I'm not afraid of what I'm capable of, but it isn't particularly useful in the day to day."

Nothing says exactly what its name is. The silence is astounding and uncomfortable.

"So, what's the soup du jour? What do you want to talk about? You brought me here for a reason, right? You wouldn't have brought me here if you didn't want to talk."