The bedroom was in shambles. Clothes, plushies, and all manner of belongings were strewn everywhere. A collection of gold trophies lay sprawled across the shelf on which they had been lined up tall and proud. The precious computer set-up on the far end of the room was the only area that had managed to remain relatively untouched, and sat upright among the sea of stuff. Even then, the monitors had been knocked slightly askew, and a neon green bra was clinging onto a precarious corner of one of the screens for dear life, its matching partner lying crumpled over the keyboard that sat not too far away.
It was as if a hurricane had gone through the place, which was exactly what had happened, figuratively speaking: Mikka had always been a force of nature. Keary supposed this was the least explosive outcome, considering her current state of distress. Emotional management had never been a strong suit for her.
But had she really needed to pull out every single item of clothing from her wardrobe and fling them all around? And all these stuffed toys… How could anybody even have this many stuffed toys?? And why were every single one of them CATS, and nothing else???
Where was the girl, even?
“Mikka.”
No answer.
“Mikka, where are you?”
Still no answer.
From behind him, Kumiko called in softly, “Kiki, make some no-oise.”
A slight rustle. “Oot, oot,” came a weak croak from underneath a mountain of fabric. “Hands in the air like you just don’t care,” it continued, dead tone completely disparate to the festive party cry. A pale hand flailed up above a pile of rumpled cloth before flopping limply back down.
Drama queen, Keary thought to himself. He kicked at a cat plushie at his feet, which bounced away with a squeak. “I heard about the video.”
Silence. Then: “You watched it?”
He snorted. “No. Did you want us to?”
No reply.
“More importantly,” Keary continued, “What is this that you’re doing right now?”
Another pause, before the dull voice said, “Dunno. Wasting away. Languishing. Dying?” A pause to deliberate. “Yup. I’m dying.”
“... You’re not dying.”
“Of despair.”
Mikka the Melodramatic. “Get out here.”
“Can’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Am dead.” She paused. “With despondensationnessalicism.”
“What?!”
Finneas had painted a bleak picture of Mikka’s situation, and, knowing her effusively bubbly nature, Keary had felt some worry despite himself. But seeing as how she was still capable of joking around at a time like this, perhaps she was fine after all.
“If you have the energy to make up ridiculous words, then you have the energy to pull your ass out of this fucking bed,” he rebuked, shoving a pathway through the chaos toward the spot where Mikka’s paw had made its fleeting appearance. “Or you’ll find out what real despair feels like.”
Another rustling noise, but she didn’t emerge, only curled further into the pile. “Just leave me alone. I already know I’m stupid.”
“Stupid is you lying here moping around like it’s the end of the world, instead of hunting the fucker down and pumping acid up his ass until it comes out of his sockets!” He dismantled the garment mountain in a few fistfuls, unearthed the blue-haired girl, and yanked her up by her shoulders. “Why aren’t you doing anything about this?”
That was when Mikka, whose replies had been listless up until that point, lost it.
“DO YOU THINK I HAVEN’T??” she screamed. “OF COURSE I FUCKING DID! I TRIED TO TRACK HIM DOWN BUT IT WENT ROUND AND ROUND IN FUCKING CIRCLES TO NOWHERE! THEN THERE WERE MORE AND MORE OF THEM AND I KEPT RIPPING THEM DOWN BUT THEY GOT POSTED AGAIN ALMOST IMMEDIATELY! I DON’T FUCKING KNOW WHAT TO DO ANYMORE, OKAY?? I’M STUPID AND WEAK AND DUMB, I HAVE A POTATO BRAIN, I DON’T FUCKING KNOW!!!”
Then, in a flourish that put all Disney Princesses to shame, she hurled herself theatrically back down to wail into the bed.
At the door, Finneas muttered, “That went well.”
Kumiko sighed and face-palmed, but before she could reply, Mikka began a loud, albeit muffled, lament.
“Everybody’s gonna see it. Probably already did. My reputation is FUCKED!!! I’m gonna be the butt of all jokes across the whole country. My bosses have probably seen it, and I’m gonna be fired from work any moment now.”
One finger in an ear to check if his eardrums were still intact after the banshee screech delivered straight into his face, Keary heaved an impatient sigh. “You do programming work remotely for an overseas company. They don't give a shit. That’s how you’re even able to keep blue hair.”
“And when my parents see it, they’ll kick me out of the house in disgrace,” Mikka rambled on, pinching into a mumbling whine. “And then I’ll be a homeless penniless beggar on the streets and I’ll die cold and frozen and all alone selling matches in the winter, because nobody uses matches now, it’s all just wind-proof lighters and Zippos and flame-throwers.”
“......”
“And then,” Mikka’s voice started to warble with emotion, “cats will eat my corpse, and there will be nothing left of me, but my pathetic little teeth—” a sob, “and my tiny toenails—” another sob, “and my squishy eyeba-a-a-alls…”
Mikka’s catastrophising diatribe dissolved into a full-on bawl. As she squalled into the mattress like her entire village had been burned down, Keary cast a perplexed look towards the two at the door, but Kumiko only shrugged, and Finneas had his lips sucked in tight, clearly struggling to hold back laughter. Neither looked like they were going to step in to help.
“I’M SO HUNGRY!” Mikka howled. “I WANT CHOCOLATE! BUT NOT M&M CHOCOLATE!! I THOUGHT WE COULD BE LIKE CHOCOLATE!!! I WANT A CAAATTTTT!!!!”
“FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” This was absurd. Had he let his precious evening with Cardin be rudely interrupted, only for him to come here and listen to this woman’s asinine prattle? Jaw clenched, Keary hauled Mikka up again, ready to shout her back to her senses, but stopped short when a small, shaking hand clutched the front of his shirt.
“What if he’s back?” she mumbled almost unintelligibly. “Everyone’s gonna find out that I slutted myself out to a piece of shit and I can’t stop it, nothing’s working, I’m scared, I don’t know what to do…”
And there it was: the real fear that lay buried under all of her nonsense.
