Best Left Forgotten

“I think that about covers it,” Sunset said. “If we stick to this budget—tight as it is—we should be okay. At least for the summer, anyway.”

Wallflower looked over from her spot on the couch, her eyes running over the handwritten spreadsheet Sunset held. While the column of expenses had plenty of items solely related to her, the only income listed came from Sunset’s work as a waitress. Even with Sunset’s room-and-board agreement, she would barely be able to get by so long as Wallflower was draining her coffers.

“There has to be something more I can do,” Wallflower said. “I can try to find a job, or—”

“No way,” Sunset said. “What we have here is doable, Wallflower. I’m happy and able to support you for as long as you need.”

“Well... Well what if I wanna support you?” Wallflower huffed. “It’s not right for me to just take and take and not give anything back.”

“The best thing you can do for me is be good to yourself,” Sunset said. “That means taking it easy—it’s only been a few days.”

“I-I know, but...” Wallflower squirmed, guilt gnawing at her thoughts. “Maybe I could look for more fragments of the stone. If we find the one with my parents’ memories... It would make your life a lot easier.”

“What about your life?” Sunset asked. “Do you want to go back to your parents?”

“I mean...” Wallflower sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Honestly, no. I left for a very good reason.”

“Is it alright if I ask what that was?”

“Oh, uhm... Yeah, okay.” Wallflower stiffened up a bit. “So, they’re very religious, and—how should I say this? Traditional?” She deflated as hateful slurs and shouts raged in her memories. “So they don’t care much for tolerating certain kinds of people.”

“I think I see what you’re getting at,” Sunset said.

“In particular, they’re not exactly fond of ‘the queers,’ as Dad so often put it.” Wallflower stared at the floor. “I guess it never occurred to him that his own daughter would be one, too.”

“Oh, Wallflower...” Sunset wrapped an arm around Wallflower’s shoulder, giving her some sense of comfort. “That must have been really awful to come home to each day.”

“I guess, yeah,” Wallflower said, leaning against Sunset. “I used to be a lot more broken up about it, but I mean... After so much time apart, it’s just kinda stupid in retrospect.” She waved a hand, feigning a grouchy expression. “‘You can't be a lesbian, Wallflower! Go to your room and don’t come back until you’re as straight as the stick up my ass!’”

“Pfffffff—!” Sunset laughed, and Wallflower couldn’t help but giggle as well. “Please tell me he actually said that.”

“I may have embellished that bit at the end,” Wallflower said, bearing a sullen smile. “Still... You’re right that it sucked to come home to every day. Honestly, it's a huge part of why I was willing to go to a dance with a guy in the first place. I guess I figured, I dunno, that I could force myself to be more 'normal?' For all the good it did me...”

Sunset said nothing, holding her a little tighter. With a sigh, Wallflower allowed herself to sink in the one-armed embrace. As the two of them fell into silence, she grew more mindful of just how much more at ease she was than usual. For as long as she could remember, a constant sense of anxiety had clung to her at all times, leaving her muscles tensed and her mind on alert every second of every day. In this moment, though, Wallflower recognized how close she was to that long-lost feeling of being calm. Her body was almost entirely relaxed, but her thoughts still buzzed with memories of the past few days.

Despite everything Wallflower had put Sunset through, she was still right here, keeping Wallflower safe just as she had promised last night. Truthfully, Wallflower could not understand what possessed Sunset to be so nice to her. It was all too genuine to be rooted in pity. Maybe Sunset blamed herself for returning Wallflower’s memory, and caring for her was Sunset’s way of making up for it. Wallflower cringed when she thought back to the impulsive accusations she’d made against Sunset that night.

“Hey, Sunset?”

“Yeah?”

“What I said, back on the night I remembered... You know, uhm...” Wallflower sat up a bit. “You know I don’t blame you for any of this, right?”

Wallflower’s heart dropped when Sunset took her hand off her shoulder. Sunset shifted on the couch, turning to face her.

“Of course,” Sunset said, her eyes softening.

Wallflower brushed aside a stray lock of lengthy green hair. “I feel really awful about what I said... About a lot, really. All you’ve done is help me, and in return I-I’ve made your life so much harder in just a few days. And after the thing with the mirror...” She looked away, shrinking into herself. “I guess I just don’t understand why you'd still want me here.”

“Because you need someone supporting you,” Sunset said. “I want to be that person, Wallflower. If I have the ability to help you, I have the responsibility to do so.”

“You don’t need to feel obligated to fix my life,” Wallflower said. “At this point, it’s so fragmented that even if I had someone to help me pick up the pieces, I... I still don’t think we’d have enough to put it back together again.”

“Maybe not the way it was,” Sunset said. “But it doesn’t have to be like it was before to be worth living.”

“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself,” Wallflower said, her words dry with bitterness. “My old life wasn’t exactly great.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t make things better for you in the future," Sunset said.

Wallflower groaned, rubbing her eyes. “I still don’t get it, Sunset,” she said. “Why do you care about my future? Especially after everything you’ve suffered through because of me!”

“I’m not upset with you, Wallflower,” Sunset said. “Even looking back to what happened with the stone, I think your lashing out probably had something to do with what happened to you.”

“What do you mean?” Wallflower asked.

“You told me yourself how you’d been suffering for weeks, even with the memory erased,” Sunset said. “Even if you didn't remember what happened, I think part of it still stayed with you, y’know?”

Wallflower nodded, turning away. “I guess that makes sense,” she said. “But it doesn’t excuse what I did to you—what I’m still doing to you.”

“Wallflower...” Sunset smiled at her. “These past few days have been a lot, but I’ve never blamed you for any of it.”

“How can y-you say that?” Wallflower sniffed, blinking away the mistiness in her eyes. “I tried to kill myself in your bathroom! How are you not angry with me for that?”

“Because it’s not your fault,” Sunset said. “What happened to you... I never could have survived it. I never would have had the strength to unlock that door and let anyone help me.”

“I heard you, Sunset,” Wallflower said, lowering her head. “I heard you pleading and crying and banging on the door, and I just... I did that to you.”

“Wallflower, please don’t expect me to be mad at you.” Sunset sighed, closing her eyes. “I mean yeah, there have been moments when I’ve been scared—so scared that I’m not doing enough, or doing something wrong...”

“What? But you’ve done so much for me,” Wallflower said. “You’ve been nothing but wonderful to me ever since I remembered—before that, even. Taking me in, staying up with me... And what you did for me last night, helping me through that...” She gave Sunset her best attempt at an encouraging smile. “I wish I could that strong if you ever needed it.”

“Y-yeah... I’m doing my best,” Sunset said. “And I know you’re doing your best too.”

Those words were enough to turn Wallflower’s forced smile into a genuine one. She and Sunset sat in silence for a moment, until Sunset spoke up beside her.

“Hey, uhm... Can I show you something?”

“What is it?” Wallflower asked.

Sunset took a deep breath, and then another. “Okay,” she said. “I’ve never told anyone about this, so... Here goes, I guess.”

With that, Sunset pulled the hem of her knee-length skirt back to reveal her right leg. All across the top of Sunset’s thigh, faint scars—long since healed—criss-crossed over each other, their thin lines spreading unevenly outward. Immersed within them were a few scars which were thicker and more reddened than all the others.

“S-so... Yeah.” The sound of Sunset’s voice made Wallflower realize she was holding her breath. Her eyes snapped up to meet Sunset’s own, which were downcast and full of apprehension.

“Sunset, I...” As the initial shock began to wear off, Wallflower was overcome with confusion. “I had no idea,” she said. “You always seemed, I dunno...”

“Like I have it together,” Sunset finished. “It’s pretty dumb, I know, because I do have it together—at least in terms of like, life stuff. I have great friends, my own place, all these good things.” She sighed, her shoulders hunching. “But before all that, when I was still bitter and angry and awful to everyone, I’d come home every night and just... Sit in silence. I’d go whole weekends without speaking a word out loud, just because I had no one to talk to.”

Wallflower shifted in her seat, grimacing. “I know what that’s like,” she said.

Sunset gave her a sad smile. “You handled it much better than I did,” she said. “For all those years I was on my own, even though I would never admit it... Deep down, I hated myself. I’d given up so much and hurt so many people because I couldn’t get over my own stupid pride. And every night, as soon as the lights went out, I was alone with my thoughts.” She wiped away a tear. “It didn’t take that long for those thoughts to turn on me. I guess hurting myself made them stop, if only for a little while.”

In her periphery, Wallflower saw Sunset’s hand shaking. Without thinking, she took gentle hold of it. “Do you still...?”

“No, not anymore,” Sunset said, to which Wallflower felt a little relief. “I haven’t for, I dunno... Two months now? Something like that.”

“That’s still more recent than I would have thought,” Wallflower said, before immediately regretting her choice of words. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay, I get it,” Sunset said. “From the outside looking in, you’d think I would have stopped after I finally found friends. A-and they did help, for sure. But, I mean...” She exhaled heavily, leaning back into the couch. “Aside from a few sleepovers or whatever, I was still alone from the moment I got home until I left the next day. A lot can build up in that time, y’know?”

"I do,” Wallflower said. “Self-loathing becomes routine.”

“That’s exactly what it was,” Sunset said. “A routine. Every night I would hurt myself, even when I didn’t feel like I needed it. After a while, it became like... Like a way to pass the time, just another thing to do.” She sighed, sinking further into the cushions. “Eventually it was the only thing to do.”

“Well...” Wallflower held Sunset’s hand a little tighter. “I’m glad you were able to stop.”

“Me too,” Sunset said. “Although if I’m being honest, I still want to do it. Especially when I feel alone. Which sometimes happens even when I'm out there, around other people.”

“I never would've thought crippling loneliness was something we'd have in common,” Wallflower said.

“Yeah... I really wish I’d met you sooner.” Sunset paused, then looked up. “I mean like talked to you, sorry. I know we met before, uhm...”

“It’s okay, Sunset,” Wallflower said. “I understand what you mean.”

Relief flashed in Sunset’s eyes. “I guess I’m just trying to say that... That you’re not alone in struggling, y’know? That it’s okay for you to not be okay, because I'm not okay either. And I hope this doesn’t sound too selfish, but having you here really helps me, too.”

“That...” Wallflower’s voice wavered with a feeling she couldn’t describe. “That makes me really happy.”

“You said you wished you could be as strong as me,” Sunset said. She gave Wallflower a gentle smile. “But the truth is that you already are.”

Wallflower felt her heart stirring as a flurry of emotions ran through her. Silence held for a second longer, and then she and Sunset embraced. In that moment, Wallflower at last found the total tranquility that had been lost to her for so long.