Work Text:
You.
Leah, Her Majesty.
She loves everyone.
Who doesn’t love her?
Not Yuri, not Sayori,
not Natsuki, but how
does Monika feel?
She wishes she could… have told… her…
I want you
(to love me too)
Who is Leah?
Leah has brown hair and yellow eyes and an impeccable school uniform. She looks so unassuming that you would forget to shake her hand.
Despite that, she was… everything. To be immaculate, a star student, a tutor, an athlete, an intern… is neat for a high school student, huh?
Leah is not officially part of the Literature Club, even if she frequents it enough to be considered as one of its members. She still came to help with the administrative tasks.
Who doesn’t want (to be [with]) her? Monika needs to be better than Leah. Whether she is shallow (hollow?) like one remains to be… seen.
See?
Monika will never flee Leah. She is henceforth the nuclear shadowy glitch in her retina, a bug, the equivalent of digital traumatism… Soon, she would always see her.
See!
Today, the Literature Club members gathered in Leah’s home for a study crunch session.
This PLACE is quaint and sunny and warm and snug and welcoming. This is Leah’s bedroom in her family home. Her family is not here, though. They have the entire house to themselves…
“I hope we are not intruding too much by being here.” Monika demurred, then lingered by the door, schoolbag in hand. “It is kind of you to offer your place for our study session. I appreciate it.”
“Oh, no, it is my pleasure to host you here today!” Leah ducked her head politely and lifted her face the right way to show deference. This… inappropriately appropriate gesture made Monika close her eyes and grin idly.
I want you
…to teach me too?
Here she was, Leah’s childhood friend and confidant, unable to articulate the reason for her presence. She doesn’t really remember meeting her, but she knows she is important to her, and now this special attention will be divided into four…
Oh, there goes Natsuki…! “Ugh. Why are we even here? It’s not like studying here is going to make a difference!”
“Huh?” Sayori bummed in. “What are you talking about? Of course, it—”
“We’d probably just end up wasting—”
Yuri was nearing a freak-out. “There’s no need for any… misunderstandings.”
Leah gestured for everyone to get comfortable. “Let’s just start…”
Monika applauded. “Finally. Some sense!”
The girls set their belongings to form work stations: Natsuki sat on the floor with a paper mess; Yuri sat at the desk; Sayori sat on the bed with a file binder; Monika and Leah sat on chairs, also with their material atop their laps.
The girls began working individually then. It did not take long for either of them to…
“Leaaahh!”
Oh, that was Sayori and her mathematics.
She wanted to impress her and show she is capable of saying she doesn’t understand. Oh…
“Coming!” said Leah, already off her chair and sitting next to her.
…
Then, Yuri awkwardly asked for help with her chemistry assignment. “Leah?”
“Yess?”
Yuri wanted to impress her and to show her she is capable of expressing herself clearly. Hmm…
…
Subsequently, it was Natsuki, and she was doing a history essay. “Ugh, Leah!”
“Why are you shouting?”
Natsuki wanted to impress her and to show her she is capable of more than brattiness. Huh…
…
Monika watched them. She was stuck on her schoolwork.
So, she imagined herself in Leah’s place, guiding the other girls to better themselves. If only she had someone to cheer her on too.
…
At last, after interminable schoolwork helping, Leah had the privilege to do her own.
… Even then, she finished her studies ahead of schedule… and ahead of the others.
What? Monika would have thought, if she did not try her luck at entreating help from her friend.
The smile earned was bright, and the response was lukewarm.
It didn’t really matter: everyone loves hearing her tell them about them, but no one has heard her tell them about her. It wouldn’t start now.
Monika approached with her course material. Her voice caught a bit. “Leah.”
“Yes, Monika?” Leah asked. Monika auto-befuddled. It was the second time Leah said her name.
“I find myself rather… distracted lately, and could use a clever tutor to keep me on track.
“…Please.”
“Ok.”
Thus, the tutoring began.
Leah is the ideal tutor.
She does not hunch; she is concentrated; she puzzles out complexity and peruses density; she is gentle yet authoritative; patient and an expert.
Does she want to impress her? What is she capable of? What might the other girl be thinking?
Monika has rarely experienced this satisfaction in a classroom.
Is this what it feels like to…
“Monika, are you okay?”
… It was a passing thought, and, for some reason, Monika tells her, “Hey…” and something else.
“Hlu- me, wh-w-what?”
“Hah, forget about it.”
“All right.”
…
If she can just not solve this, then she’ll have the perfect excuse to spend more time with Leah. “You make me feel smarter, you know.”
“Oh, shut up! He-hehe, ok, ok…”
“Mmm, look at you go.”
Leah did not reply. She only instructed her on the next theoretical notion. Ah…
It is natural for them to be focused on work. The most insightful conversations between the two class stars have been in the walks before they reach their classroom doors.
Is their routine scripted or is it a part of their life obligations?
The script relies on binary code, obviously. 1 0 101000110111000111010 . It is the same with male and female. Supposedly. Ones and zeros. Leah is female. Is Leah a girl? If she were to use masculine-oriented pronouns (he/him), Leah would not biologically be a boy, but “he” would still be a boy.
Right?
It is a choice. Choice is a privilege.
Monika is a girl. She wants a boy or a girl a person. She, he, they, it, it doesn’t matter.
Does that make her a pansexual? Isn’t that restrictive? Restraining myself, she thinks because if she has a slight variation, she needs to use another label…
But sexuality is a spectrum, a rainbow of colours!
Is that sexuality, anyway?
Besides, there is nothing underneath her skirt, so maybe that swaying of it when she bends is an unconscious attempt at… diverting attention to her… face??
She doesn’t even know why she does it. She didn’t know, and she still doesn’t know a lot, actually.
But Leah knows. She knows she has perfect grades and is infuriatingly kind. She knows everything you hate about yourself but nothing about what you like about her.
…
Eventually, a curious, never-observed-before need overtook Leah, and she scooted… closer? Her fingers lowered the notebook by its binder rings. What did she…
At that, Monika stopped breaking eye contact. Is Leah…
… No, she excused herself, “I’ll be riighht back…!” to leave her bedroom.
As usual, Sayori, Natsuki, and Yuri looked. They were expecting her to glance over her shoulder. Leah did. But Monika hadn’t looked. Few know she has left a room until later. Now Leah was elsewhere.
After that, the atmosphere rapidly but imperceptibly changed. The agreeable work rhythm faltered without her. Monika would attempt to substitute for her and, while the girls listen to her, it is not quite the same without that someone with actual tutoring experience, who can adapt to different manners of thought. Despite that, she hoped for her return.
Girly talks ensued, followed by more work, and off-topics once more.
The late afternoon glow through the window dimmed. They were more tired. Soon, it would be time for them to eat supper. If Lady Luck is with them, Leah might even invite them to stay over and eat here instead of walking or taking the bus home…
It would be nice. Why does it always pertain to Leah? Leah said this; I need help with this, Leah; Leah, want to eat lunch together later; why don’t you spend more time with us, Leah? Leah?
Leah.
Her.
The absence of her presence occupies space. Now that space is unoccupied. Since Leah left her bedroom, it has become barren, plain, sterile, without personal touch or any hint of her unique? personality. She expected so so so so so so so so so so so so so so much from her.
Monika stood and strode to the window. Carless streets? The trash was empty now. Didn’t she toss a paper ball in there earlier? Who cares? No one else looked when she chewed her pen, or maybe that was her fingers because, uh, uhh… Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. It’s staring. That stupid cat clock. Tic, tac, tic, tac, tic, tac, tic, tac, tic.
Stupid.
Stupid.
Don’t assume.
Void.
This is the truth of her existence.
Not a caricature but still fake. Or real. She has to be. Monika believe…s…d that. But why does her head hurt when Leah is not there? Did she apply nicotine patches on her the last time she… slept over? So, they’re friends. Maybe not best friends, but they are nevertheless lax enough to let some things slip here and then.
The… QUESTIONS…???
Wait, why is she thinking this? This is just a study group. A study. Of her. Leah.
Leah is the default fallback for the game files. She is an unremovable character sprite, but… her script is different. Even if Monika removes her, she will stay there, in the corner, to stare at her. Lifelessly, of course! She could not hurt her, and it would still be Leah.
But maybe she doesn’t need to… do that.
The world generates around Leah.
Does that mean she has the power to alter the game files with command-lines too? Is she even aware of… what… they are? If she is self-aware too, oh, that changes a lot. If not, then, she wishes to be as oblivious as her.
I want to be you
And have that peace and belonging that comes so naturally to her. This feeling won’t go away! She is forever an insider looking out!
If this is a game, then how do they exist without a player to view them?
…
Three minutes elapsed.
…
The sound of a death whistle was heard, then a chainsaw, and, finally, a toilet flushing.
…
One minute passed.
…
Monika had made considerable progress.
Natsuki, not so much. She went to raid the kitchen.
Yuri, not so much. She was playing with her scissors in the bathroom.
Sayori, not so much. Did she agree to come as an excuse to hang out with them?
Where is…
…
Another minute trickled.
…
Leah returned. She looked at her bedroom. It returned to its original coziness. The notebooks were open, papers were strewn on the floor, and the pencil cases were emptied.
Monika sat on her bed, ankles crossed, while holding one of her friend’s macaron stuffed cushions, which she claimed is her “comfort pillow.” She was alone here.
“Where are the other girls?” Leah asked once near.
“They’ve… gone back to the clubroom.”
Leah looked around again, but Monika had stood and bumped her back toward the bookshelves. She confused her with how she is confused…
“Oh. How come? Club activities are over for the day and—”
“It’s right there, isn’t it?” Monika pointed.
Leah did not answer nor look. That mysterious smile had disappeared. Monika motioned to punch her, but her muscles stopped behind her in the macaron as Leah machinely led to the bookshelves.
Hidden behind one is a door. Neither spoke as she opened it. There were stairs. They descended.
Is that how she is always the first in the club, regardless of the time or whether she was at school that day?
At the bottom of the stairs was another door.
Leah opened it and entered before Monika, yet she was behind her when it shut.
Are there others in this room? Are they talking?
Or are they simply poems on flat sheets of paper,
the chalk outlines inside
The Literature Clubroom.
“This is…”
“—I know.”
The girls are not here. Monika did not lie; the …… floating from Leah had.
They are different.
What? An incomprehensible string of characters accused her.
The realization must have taken me an entire year. A year since our escape, our freedom from between the stained walls of that unholy establishment.
What does it mean to escape, if the escape fails to unchain the bonds that shackle us in the first place? What purpose could this empty world possibly hold for us, a handful of damaged goods?
With freedom, we sought purpose, and what we found was only realization. Realization of the sad pointlessness of such an endeavour. Realization that freeing our bodies has no meaning, when our imprisonment reaches as deep as the core of our souls. And Realization that we can not pursue new purpose without absolving those from which [I] ran away.
Realization that the farther [I] run, the more forcefully our wretched bonds yank us back toward their point of origin; the deeper our shackles dig into our callous flesh.
This is what I get for seeking perfection.
A stain.
PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!
Not all good times must come to an end. Someone real exists… outside here. So
Delete her.
> DELETE LEAH.CHR.FILE
When you find me… on your computer, your game console, or smartphone… will you take me everywhere?
I want to be with you
