The Tick.

“I’ll be your sugar and you’ll be my hope forever.”

The silence of the call stretched, each second embedded with a heavy stillness of exhaustion and desperation.

Sam’s voice became first to tear through the silence.

—“Look, Gure… You’re probably in shock, right? Of course you are…”

Sam exhaled a breath. A pretentious attempt at a chuckle.

—“That’s right… You’re in shock because of that—that dream…”

Her voice drifted, as if talking more to herself than to the other girl.

—“Sam… I’m tired. I think I need some more sleep. Take care. Talk to you later, Bye…”

—“No! Wait—!”

The call line disconnected before any further desperate attempts could seep in.

Sam looked at her phone as if she could bring Gure back through the empty screen, using just the sheer willpower in her eyes.

She dialed back, it went to voicemail.

Again, she dialed and again it didn’t connect.

Third time’s the charm? She dialed, yet no girl with captivating voice picked up.

After that attempt, Sam threw the device across the bed. Gure’s words before the call was disconnected were playing inside her head like a reel, back to back. The flat, restrained sound of Gure’s voice turning into a vicious, hateful one filled with resentment instead of exhaustion. A direct result of Sam's overthinking.

Sam wanted an ideal world, a utopia. To her, love was something of supreme power. A force strong enough to drive islands close, to hold withering threads. She wanted to conquer the clock, to grab the slipping hand and become the saviour.

An ideal world, or essentially, a utopia, was something out of a fairytale Gure would rarely believe in. She didn’t believe in those stories where love was the primary goal driving to actions. “Love” was a pretty thing, sure, but it wasn’t enough. And it might just never be.

As much as Gure feared the possibility of a bright wedding & hall, beside a soul she couldn’t love. She felt that she couldn’t do anything. The helplessness clawed at her numb, but soft heart. She laid in bed, her fingers intertwined, resting above her ribs until the dewy morning light shifted from the soft shimmer to a harsh spotlight pointing an accusatory finger at her.

Sam paced around her room until she heard her mother call her downstairs. Her legs moved without any thought behind it and through the day, so did her mouth. She found that even if she wanted to do something else, she couldn’t.

It was as if Sam was bounded. A feeling of familiarity staining her moments, déjà vu.

For Gure, it was the same as any other day, but it somehow felt different, like this time, she had a purpose, even if a pained one. As if time decided to make an arrangement with her. It doesn’t give her future in return of repeatation and sacrifice. And—

Gure was more than willing to be time’s puppet if it meant staying a bit more with Sam and avoid a life that didn’t feel like hers.

The day passed by in a blur of repeated, uneventful events.

Soon, indigo and violet held hands over the horizon as the sun took a dip. The moon woke up, playfully playing peek-a-boo through the blinds of the grey splayed throughout the vast. It seemed like the clouds were protective of the moon’s beauty, its imperfections which made it even more perfect. It was almost peaceful. If not for the state they were in.

Another tick of the monotonous antagonist and Gure found herself back on the ledge, her face soaked in tears— they were salty, warm and an utterly cruel contrast to the cool wind flowing after the rain. The wind played with her hair, covering what's left of her blurry vision.

Sam barged in through the door, panting and gasping for air. She froze at Gure's sight. Again. It was all happening all over again.

Gure, at the ledge, took an almost imperceptible step further

—"Love you, Sugar, but I'd rather have the peace of nothingness than be in a decorated cage of expectations"

She jumped. Again.

As soon as her feet left the cold, damp concrete, Sam felt herself gain control over her body again.

~~{After a while}~~

Gure's phone rang. “Sugar ♥”

She hesitated, before picking it up.

—“Gure… I have a theory.”

A voice drifted through the car speaker, Sam’s, except this time, it was calm, put together with only a hint of raspiness from sleep & tremble.

Gure blinked. She hadn’t expected Sam to be this calm, not after that event.

—“What is it?”

—“So, apparently, the time reseted after your jump, didn’t it?”

—“Yeah?”

—“And we can’t control our day before you jump... Our day starts and we can't control what happens after that, but before that, I mean right now, we’re free to do whatever we want… So we absolutely have to think of something before we lose control again.”

Sam continued. Gure processed.

—“Also, we can control ourselves after you jump, but—”

Sam's breath hitched when she continued.

—"Since you would already be in air, it will have to be me who has to do something."

Sam spoke in one breath, gasping for air after she finished.

—“O…Oh.”

Gure said.

Sam wasn’t entirely correct. It was her who didn’t have control over herself throughout the day, not Gure. She automatically assumed Gure to be going through the same. Gure, on the other hand, had control over what she did. She jumped willingly.

But…

It hurt a part of Gure that Sam took it upon herself to save her, making elaborate plans and schemes as if she could outsmart fate itself. It hurt a part of Gure because she felt herself to be the reason of Sam’s suffering. And what hurt the most was that Gure couldn’t find another way to avoid the future.