01.04.202X - Kate's Thoughts

 

Chapter 6 – Kate's Thoughts

Kate laid in bed. She hadn't expected Sayori to barge in the way she did, and she felt vaguely thankful that the high-schooler hadn't noticed just what she was doing.

Or who I was thinking about.

Maybe she was a bit... oblivious? Naïve?

Cute, all the same. Really cute.

The food at the clinic hadn't been the best, and the girl had been kind of... emaciated was the wrong word, but... ribs showing, bony shoulders, thin arms. If she'd been a couple inches taller she'd probably be classified as “lanky”, but at five foot two she seemed more...

Not perfect. She's not your toy. Don't put her on a pedestal, you fucking idiot.
You know where this road leads.

Still, “perfect” came close to describing it – although Kate hated the term and what it implied. Nobody was perfect, but Sayori...

Maybe a bit heroin-chic, with the eye bags and the tired, but vaguely cheerful exterior – although she'd recognize self-harm anywhere. She seemed surprisingly – and depressingly – adept at hiding her pain. There was some slight discoloration on her neck, as well, a familiar pattern, and...

Well, it didn't take a genius to figure that out. Poor girl. It looked faded now, maybe three or four years ago?

She kept her arms around Sayori's waist – the girl didn't seem to mind being the little spoon. Or the hugs.

The opposite, rather. She seemed to really enjoy a good hug.

Maybe she'd enjoy a little peck on the cheek? Or, perhaps, a little bit of tongue? Or, maybe, a trail of kisses down her flat stomach, and then...

She groaned. It had been so fucking long. She'd almost been there, almost gotten it out of her system, and then... “Couldn't sleep.”

Yeah, neither can I. What shampoo are you using? You smell like apples.

She buried her face in Sayori's hair and inhaled.

Autumn orchards, freshly-picked... or maybe it's more of a peachy thing? If stuff starts calming down, maybe I could buy her a nice fragrance, or borrow her one of mine, or...

No. You don't own her. She's not yours. Nothing is official.

...yet.

She couldn't quite put her finger on what it was that drew her to Sayori. Maybe it was just her being Japanese, and her inner otaku taking over, but she hated the thought of it being just that, just “yellow fever”, just cultural fetishism.

No, there had to be something more there.

The way she'd get animated and her eyes would light up when they'd talk literature, her weird humor, how she sometimes looked so dazed and confused, big blue eyes – contacts? – just... taking in the world around her, how she begged to hold hands when they were creeping past Room 2, the hugs, how she'd always give her her own portion of fries since “you're working so hard, you have to eat”, how she'd sometimes look kind of confused and then look at her and then smile a little and...

Oh my fucking God I'd die for that smile. Helen of Troy, in the flesh.

The predatory side in her also felt a slight guilty rush at remembering how scared she looked, how vulnerable she made herself around her, but...

She's not your toy. She might not even be into you. She might just be doing that... “skinship” thing. 

...I wonder how many girls she's kissed before. She seems like a bit of a geek, kinda, maybe she hasn't... maybe I could be her first kiss?

SHE'S NOT YOUR TOY. STOP PUTTING HER ON A PEDESTAL.

But a girl could dream, couldn't she? Still... there was the age difference, which made her feel a bit uneasy. Almost five years older. Sayori... probably wouldn't be into her. She had little crow's feet already from her days in the Kentucky summer, and try as she might with her sunscreens and lotions and toners and everything under the sun, she felt too old for the girl sleeping in her arms.

You fucking predator. She's legal, though, but... she's not your toy. If the situation gets worse we're gonna have to come up with something more long-term. Looks like Mom took most of the canned goods with her. God she smells so nice...

Kate carefully moved her hand to Sayori's head, and started running her fingers through her hair, occasionally scratching behind her ears, like a little kitten- 

She's not your toy.

But I wanna play.
I wanna play so fucking bad.
But I can't, and I won't.
Can't hurt her.

Inhale. She couldn't see any dark roots – not that the moonlight was anything special, she'd pulled the curtains. Still, it looked dyed, didn't it? And her eyes, did she wear contacts?

 

Five foot two, eyes of blue.
But oh, what those five foot could do.
Me, for instance.
Has anybody seen my gal?
Yeah, she's right here, but...

...she's not my gal.
Might never be.
Christ, I want a spliff so bad.

I want a spliff and a kiss with some tongue and I want Sayori to moan “Katie, Katie” in that cute little accent and oh my God you couldn't just have waited five minutes before coming in?

Not that she minded, all that much. Even if they'd just stay platonic, this... God, she'd missed this. Skin on skin. Someone softly dozing in her arms, someone cute that smelled nice and had that kind of weird-but-smart slightly-quirky thing going on and...

Someone severely depressed. Maybe she could help, do something, make her feel better. Make her realize her own value. The girl had been a real lifesaver at the clinic – she'd had nothing but respect for her colleagues, but it wasn't... friendship. Not as such.

And, she thought darkly, that respect disappeared when they left me and Sayori high and dry after what happened in Room 2.

But Sayori felt like a... friend. She'd been so stuck in the work-gym-anime-sleep routine that she'd barely had any time to really make – or mend – any proper connections in Rosewood. She'd went to school there, yeah, but... everyone had moved on. New York, California, London, Vermont...

She sighed.

 

Why did growing up have to be so fucking hard?
Work and work and work and occasional chemical solace and maybe a convention or two she could go to and make friends she'd just talk to on Discord or IRC but...

Skin on skin.
Skin on skin.
Just a hug.

She'd missed that so fucking much.

Kate gently stroked Sayori's hair again, heard the girl murmur something barely audible but content-sounding in her sleep, and unable to resist the urge anymore, she oh-so-very-gently kissed her cheek.

Just a little peck.
That's all it was.
That's all it would ever be.

She leaned backwards, one arm trapped under Sayori, her other hand still idly playing with the girl's hair, and closed her eyes.

New day tomorrow.

New day, new me.