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✧┊ March 3rd - Daily 3
1338/350 words ┊ 500 points

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Time slipped between my fingers. Fast, maybe too fast. Maybe it would have been better if I held on with all my might and refused to let go, maybe today would be a brighter morning. Maybe if I didn’t allow time to slip out of my grasp, he would still be here.

I remember a desolate winter night, the cold climbing up my fingers—as I trudged through the snow in dismay. As I wept his name, my tears froze as quickly as they fell down my face. My eyes were wide—fear pulsed through my body. I called out his name, once again, as if a response would come this time, as if by some kind of magic—his voice would call back.

“Yuki?”

No reply came.

His body was found the next morning. Frost had clung to his skin, and winter’s cruel hands took him. He was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. Knowing he was gone with certainty, without any hope I’d hear him call back—no room for the sweet denial that kept me plowing tracks in white, the denial that kept me crying out his name by the mere happenstance he was still alive.

Yuki was dead. It was a fact, an undeniable truth about our universe. A fact that would never be changed, and would forever be true.

Yuki had died on that cold winter night last year.


It’s been too long since he died.

Firsts always remain tricky. Your first time on a date…first time getting a job…first time driving…

The first morning without him was torturous, as seconds ticked down, every second a second without him. When I closed my eyes, praying when I opened them his brown hair would still be here. Praying that by some kind of miracle, Yuki was alive. That it was nothing but a dream that took him away from me. The first day was difficult. The day after that was too. And the day after. I spent too much time sleeping without a care in the world, for if I kept my eyes closed, I wouldn’t have to face the fact he wasn’t here.

Today was the first anniversary of Yuki’s death.

A bouquet of white lilies kept me grounded. Their sweet scent lingered in the air, the petal’s leafy aroma made my nostrils flare. Today, I will visit his grave.

The crunching of snow under my feet was unpleasant, every step I bore into the snow was a reminder of the night that took him away from me. A reminder of the calls without replies, the frozen tears of ice that fell from my eyes, and worse of all, the body when he was finally found.

When I arrived at Yuki’s grave, I wasn’t alone.

A red bird, a cardinal, was perched on his tombstone. I wanted to shoo it away, yell this wasn’t any place for it to be hanging around. This was a grave, Yuki’s grave to be precise. No one, not even a bird, had any right to be perched on it.

Carefully, I placed the lilies at the tombstone’s base, right next to a portrait of Yuki. I glared at the bird, “Get away!” I cried out.

The bird stayed perched, of course, for birds don’t understand the words of humans.

“Get away!” I screamed, once again. As if something would change. As if the bird would suddenly understand me, as if it’d know what I was saying this time. “This isn’t your grave, is it?!”It was immature and irrational, I knew. But grief did strange things to people—and I was no exception. There was no remedy, no silver bullet for grief, and fully aware of that, I acted on my own qualms. Crying knowing nothing would come of it.

It was ironic, and a bit too reminiscent of that unspoken night.

“Ugh. Bird.” I groaned. For whatever reason, the words left a bad aftertaste in my mouth. A feeling of regret flooded over me, but I couldn’t understand why—which frustrated me more than I already was.

Only a moment later, the bird flew to my side, and perched on my shoulder. I flinched. Birds…they weren't always this friendly…were they? Usually, just the slightest flinch was enough to make them fly off, never did they fly onto humans of their own volition unless they were trained to do so. Though, this bird is wild…isn’t it?

Yuki was a name that meant snow. It was the first time I remembered when his frozen body was found—like his name was some foreboding prophecy that told of his death. Everyone commented on how ironic it was. Red cardinals were associated with the season of winter.

Could it be?

No. It was impossible. Obviously, I had prayed and hoped that one day Yuki would return to me, that reincarnation would bring him back into my arms. But…of course, that was all grief talking. Reincarnation wasn’t real, and Yuki’s death was final.

Oh…but what if?

Maybe it would be okay. Maybe it was alright to indulge in fantasy. I could look back and chide myself for how stupid I was to believe such a thing, but it was okay. If it could get me through today, that was all I needed. Even if it would only hurt me, even if I was simply delusional.

I took a seat, and began talking to the bird like an old friend. Waxing over our fond memories before he died. I told him all he missed, I told him how hard it was without him. There came no response, obviously. But I had grown used to crying out without a response.

The red cardinal wasn’t there on the two-year anniversary, nor the third. But it didn’t matter much, not to me at least. It didn’t feel like losing Yuki for a second time, it felt more so like something happening that was long overdue. That this was how things were meant to be, that the cardinal’s appearance was a blessing that wasn’t meant to be in this world.

The universe had given me one final chance to talk to him, but now was the time to let go.

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➻ 1025 words

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Hugh Smith
Age: 18
A student at Lakeview High school. Not extremely popular, but not disliked.
Lives with his mother—his parents divorced after his brother went missing. Has a strained relationship with her, but is mostly tolerable.
Has a part-time job at a convenience store.
Physical Appearance: Relatively average in height and weight. Has slightly tanned skin and dark brown eyes. Typically has his hair in a middle part, and his hair is typically messy. His hair is also dark brown, and he typically dresses extremely casually.

Positive: Energetic, emotional awareness, humorous, determined, kind-hearted, understanding, good listener, and good comforter.
Negative: People-pleaser, impulsive, difficulty taking care of himself, impatient, stubborn, can’t leave things in the past.

When Hugh was 15 years old, his older brother, Henry ran away from home. Hugh had noticed signs of depression in his brother, but ultimately ended up not doing anything about it. When Henry ran away, Hugh was the only person who knew why, and he felt sick. He felt immense surges of guilt when his brother ran away, knowing that if he did something, maybe his brother wouldn’t have gone missing. Hugh desperately searches for his brother—but to no avail. Despite how long it’s been, he’s still determined to try and find him even though the chances are slim to none. He fell into depression himself after his brother’s disappearance, and still hasn’t fully recovered.
After his brother went missing, knowing that the reason why was due to depression, he was determined to make sure it never happened to anyone else again. Knowing what depression was like after his own spirals himself, and knowing what could come of it, He made it his mission to make the whole world smile in order to ensure no one else ended up like his older brother. Today, he tries his best to make the people around him laugh, and get rid of people’s burdens one by one until everyone’s happy.
He tries to make as many people smile as he can through humor and jokes. He attempts to make every last person happy, pushing them forward knowing what depression can do to a person, and he knows he wants no one to end up that way.
His uncontrollable guilt, the ‘what ifs?’ that run through his head, keeps him moving forward, whispering that if anyone else ends up like his brother—it’ll be all his fault for his inaction. He needs to make everyone smile, even if he loses himself in the process.

Relations
Henry - Hugh’s older brother who ran away from home 3 years ago when he was 18 (meaning he’d currently be 21). Was struggling from depression, which was the cause for him running away. Hugh and Henry both mutually cared for each other deeply, and Hugh fell into a deep spiral of depression after Henry went missing. They bickered like the siblings they were, but both would have taken a bullet for the other. Hugh is still in denial, and clings onto the hope that Henry is still alive even if the chances are slim, because a body was never found.

Noah - Someone who Hugh sees as an older brother figure despite him only being a few months older than Hugh. Met him shortly after his brother went missing, which is why he clung onto him as an older brother figure. The two of them enjoy each other’s presence, and both mutually see the other as a sibling.

Callum - Hugh’s best friend. Was by his side when his brother went missing. Has helped keep Hugh grounded through difficult times.

➻ 593 words

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The first image represents Hugh’s appearance on a physical level. Messy brown hair in a middle part, the usual teenage boy look. For that’s who he really is—a teenager.

The second image is a dark bedroom, this is meant to be a literal representation of what Hugh’s bedroom looks like, but also symbolic of what he carries alone at night. His overwhelming guilt and spirals, and the more personal side of him other people don’t see.

The third image is a representation of Hugh’s memories back when Henry was still alive. He can’t remember his face anymore, and his brother feels like something of a distant memory, something he can’t go back to, and something that won’t ever be the same. It’s a blurry memory of the past that Hugh can’t let go of.

The fourth image shows what Hugh’s true goal is: to make happiness for the world. It’s a simple image that shows the core of Hugh’s character, which is the fact he wants to make the whole world smile and make people happy.

The fifth image is literal, showing the past that drives Hugh forward and his central motivations for doing what he does. It’s a representation of the past that haunts him, and the force that drives him to continue working towards his goal.

The sixth image, a broken mirror, represents how Hugh views himself. He feels immense guilt for what happened to his brother, and his spiral of depression doesn’t make things much better for him. He sees himself as the person who failed his older brother—and he still can’t let go.

The seventh image is a simple sunset. It’s more so meant to be a representation of his character traits, showing his warmth as a character.

The eighth and final image shows a combination of himself, and his goals. He still can’t forgive himself, and still grieves his older brother, but he hides it behind a joyful facade. The image also shows his goals to make people happy in times of sadness.

➻ 338 words

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Meia could hardly remember the day’s events.

It was something that came with being an intelligence agent—being so bombarded and overloaded with work, going through one mission to the next—it was taxing. Both mentally and physically. There wasn’t a moment to breathe—a moment of time in which you were in a brief moment of just…existence. Nope. It was work this, work that.

Not even after work was done were you able to relax. Being an intelligence agent meant an intensity in your eyes that never left, sleeping with one eye open knowing what could come as a result of your profession. Meia was too used to looking over her shoulder every day, 24/7, without break. It was an uncontrollable, unescapable shadow that loomed over Meia, the fact that she knew that there couldn’t be a moment of peacetime in her life.

When she finally escaped the darkness of the night, retreating into her living quarters, she sighed out a short sigh of relief. Finally a moment of silence for herself, a moment of sincere loneliness for her to reside in. She took a short breath, and clicked the door behind her shut.

Her chest heaved up and down for a moment as she finally let herself breathe.

Of course, she still wasn’t allowed to relax—not just. Even within the privacy of her own home, she was still unable to lower her guard. Running a frustrated hand through her hair, she took a seat on a nearby chair and sighed. When she glanced up—a small analog clock—with blinking red letters. She didn’t check the time—she frankly didn’t care too much about how late it was—but her gaze was focused on the date.

It was Saturday.

There was a sudden influx of memories from the past. Most notably, a dark skinned, black-haired boy. Her brother, Kaien. She remembers it all, warm nights spent together under moonlit skies, the days filled with an irreplaceable childlike youth of the past. Nostalgia would be the only correct word to describe it.

Another memory came, the sweet scent of sugar coming from a sunlit kitchen. The taste of cinnamon was poignant on her tongue, while a broad grin appeared on her and her brother’s face. They laughed, a sound that felt so foreign to the ears of the now hardened Meia. She can’t remember the last time she laughed, this wasn’t a world that allowed for laughter. And more importantly…

The boy from her memories, she hadn’t seen in years.

What stuck out to her though, was the one variable in her memories that remained constant. Cinnamon rolls.

She hasn’t made them in a while—she’s certainly rusty now. However, the sunlit nostalgia that penetrated her mind made her pause to consider it. Before she knew it, she was standing up and in her kitchen. She looked into the pantry—certainly having everything she needed. It’d be so easy to start now, and she’d finish shy of midnight. However…

Was it really worth making if there was no one to share them with?

Meia’s heart told her no, yet it screamed yes as well. With practiced precision and memory, she began to bake.


Meia drifted into sleep as night’s embrace overtook her. She found herself floating between dreams and nothingness—a blurry line that not even she could distinguish. She reached out for something faraway—but she didn’t know what.

A memory played on the back of her eyelids—like a movie projected in her mind. Blurry frames coming into view, the world she was seeing felt distant. As if it were from another universe entirely.

“Squirt.” A boy laughed as he ruffled Meia’s hair, resulting in a scowl from the younger girl. The sweet pastry that they had just made together was held between their fingers, the sweet sugar sticking to their hands. The boy from her dream took a huge bite, wiping off the bits that got on his lips. Meia took a bite of her own.

Sweet. A sweet flavor she hadn’t had in a long time overwhelmed her taste buds, filling her mouth with a happy, sugary taste. It was so familiar—so familiar. She could recount every day she made this with Kaien, and every bite they had taken.

But remembering that the boy was Kaien woke Meia right back up again—she hadn’t seen Kaien in way too long. If she was seeing him, she must be dreaming.


Meia woke up, yet the sweet scent from her dreams were carried to the real world. On the counter, was a fresh plate of cinnamon buns. Meia approached the table and grabbed one, taking a bite before she’d be forced to go to work. Days felt the same. Eat, work, sleep, repeat.

Meia didn’t feel a stray tear fall down her face at the taste from long ago. The food didn’t taste the same by itself.

I am slowly forgetting your face, brother.

➻ 815 words

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Get in, and get out.

Those were instructions that Meia had grown all too used to hearing—she remembers it clearly, maybe too clearly. Her first time hearing those words, and the times and times after she heard them too. She can remember the words her instructor told her today with startling clarity: it wasn’t the first time she heard them, and it’d be far from the last. All missions felt like they started and ended the same, all merging together in one watercolor blur. It got hard to keep up with missions—it only took about a day for Meia to forget about them, unless they were really important.

Meia had gone on several undercover missions before—but going back to school wasn’t something she particularly expected.

When she stood at the entrance of Lakeview High School, the reminder that she was in fact 18 suddenly sunk in. With the cruel horrors she’d been subjected to on the job, one might’ve been forgiven for believing her to be much older than her actual age. But when she actually stood in a school, the reminder that if she was never forced to work for Cloud Nine—

She’d be in school right now.

It was an odd realization to come to.

Nonetheless, Meia pushed away those thoughts. Suppression had been something she had grown long used to doing ever since she became an agent. She swallowed the feelings she had, and stepped into the building. Sunlight poured in from the windows.

It was after school hours, and many students were leaning against lockers in the hallways, laughing together over trivial things. With no classes in session, it gave Meia some flexibility to wander around the school without getting told off for skipping a class she didn’t attend.

Meia could hear various callouts from outside, most likely from a sport club of some sorts. Meia continued walking—that wasn’t the focus right now.

What was the focus, was the information she needed to gather.

Ms. Willows was one of the teachers working here. Cloud Nine had recently gotten info that led them to believe that she was associated with the enemy in some way, and her work as a teacher was simply a cover-up. Which was what led Meia here.

She repeated the instructions she was given in her head: Grab any files that look incriminating enough, get out, review the files for anything suspicious when she makes it back to the facility.

Ms. Willows is the coach for the girls’ tennis team. In that case, she’d be in the gym right now, leaving her room unoccupied right now.

Perfect timing to find anything in there.

Meia found Ms. Willow’s room easily, she had done her research on the school before she came—of course. What kind of intelligence agent didn’t analyze the place of their missions before arrival? She had pretty much the whole school mapped out in her head, and a route to every exit just in case things went awry. After all, while Meia was the same age as the seniors at the school, she still couldn’t blend in completely, given her scar. However, if she kept her head low she would be fine.

She opened the door, the dim classroom illuminated slightly by dawn lights outside. Meia closed the door behind her and walked in with steady steps. Meia’s first place to search would be Ms. Willow’s desk, of course, that would be most likely where she’d find anything nefarious she’d want to see.

However, a crumpled piece of paper by the base of a desk intrigued Meia.

It technically could have possibly been something important—and Meia knew in her line of work, it was best not to let a single stone go unturned. Maybe it was a bit of a curiosity that ran through Meia’s head that needed to be satiated, but she told herself she was simply being cautious..

Meia walked over to the desk, leaned down to grab the crumpled piece of paper, and unfolded it.

3 years
Dear Henry,
It’s been 3 years since you left. It’s been a long time. Too long.
I keep hoping you come back, but maybe that’s wishful thinking.
Mom keeps telling me to give up. I don’t want to. It’s not impossible you’re still alive.
Just unlikely.
I miss yo

The pencil lines faded before the final letter, like the words on the page refused to be final. Meia glanced at the edge of the paper, it looked like it had been ripped from something. When she looked at the desk the paper was by, her thoughts were confirmed. A notebook with a ripped edge stood there lonesomely.

Meia had no idea who Henry was, but Meia could infer what happened to him based on the note. It felt a little too personal to be reading.

Before she knew it, her fingers began to fold the paper carefully—familar fold after familiar fold came after each other. Before she knew it, a small origami flower was in her hands, the words from the note peeking over slightly. Meia carefully placed it on the desk in front of her.

The door behind her creaked open—alert as ever, she snapped around, ready for a confrontation, already mapping out the closest and safest exit—

But no one intimidating was in the doorway. Just a boy her age.

He looked at her, a slightly confused expression on his face. “I don’t recognize you. Do you go here?”

“Yes.” Meia lied without faltering. She was used to lying coming as naturally as breathing.

The boy looked somewhat unconvinced, but then dropped the matter. He walked past Meia and glanced at the desk, an expression of pained embarrassment when he saw what Meia was looking at. Immediately he picked up the notebook and covered his face with it, as if embarrassed. Meia only eyed him.

“…Did you see what was written in there?”

“No.” Meia was technically telling the truth. The paper she read wasn’t /in/ there. It was originally, but it was torn out.

The boy groaned as he shut the notebook, putting the leather flap over it. He cringed slightly and kept his head down, before eyeing the origami flower on his desk.

“…You make that?” He asked, to which Meia nodded. The boy smiled softly, “That’s cool. I wish I knew how to do stuff like that.”

“…Thanks.” Meia said half-heartedly.

The boy flashed her an awkward smile, holding the notebook close to his chest. Based on what Meia had seen, the notebook was likely something like a journal where he wrote letters to whoever ‘Henry’ was. And from what she read, well…

Henry wasn’t around. Not dead, at least not for sure, based on what the journal entry said, but missing.

Meia frowned. It felt a bit too reminiscent of someone else, back when Meia didn’t know if Kaien was alive or dead.

She swallowed her somberness and walked to Ms. Willow’s desk. She eyed a manilla folder hidden beneath mountains of paperwork—suspicious. It didn’t seem like regular work, she pulled out the folder. “Mr. Dacus asked me to deliver this to him.” She said without hesitation. She looked into the staff before coming, which certainly paid off.

“Ah, I see.” The boy was sitting at his desk now, carefully unfolding the origami flower Meia had just made—seriously? I mean, she wasn’t going to take it with her, and it didn’t take that long…but it stung a little.

Meia clutched the folders close to her chest and turned to leave, now wasn’t the time to get hung up on stuff like that. It shouldn’t matter to her.

“Wait a second!” The boy’s voice cried out. Meia turned back.

“What?” Her voice came out a bit sharper than intended, but the boy’s smile didn’t falter.

The boy grinned and held out a piece of paper—Meia couldn’t even tell what it was at first, but upon closer inspection and glancing at the messy folds—it was an origami flower. It was abundantly more messy than the ones Meia made, and the sight of it made her smirk a little, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

He extended his hand more. “Take it.” He rubbed the back of his head, “I tried to copy the folds you did but it turned out not nearly as good…”

Meia grabbed it. “…Huh. Thanks.”

The boy smiled before turning back, “See you around?”

“Yeah.” Meia couldn’t stop lying today.

She turned to leave and carefully held the origami flower. She tucked the manilla folder under one arm and unfolded the seams of the flower, carefully so she could fold them back after. To her surprise, hidden inside was a note.

Whenever you walk, it looks as if you have some great mission or great purpose to attend to

It was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. She tucked the note into her jacket pocket and made her way to the nearest exit.

It was then she remembered just why Cloud Nine was fighting—to protect the people from the corrupt, so the people could continue living normally without a dictator.

That boy was one of the people her work protected.

➻ 1527 words

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➻ 3273 words total

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