Today is the festival of flowers.

Blossom Hill filled the night air with cheers, flowers and lights. Xandra had always wondered why they'd celebrate it at night, where it's cold and the flowers stayed still, stripped of its daytime essence. But now she couldn't be more grateful.

Where she stood, it was cold.

The breeze blew, the festival lights a mess of watercolors beneath her. Where she stood, she couldn't hear their laughter. The parade had started twenty minutes ago, and no one knew where she was.

From the ledge where she sat, she could see the hideous sculpture marching through the night. Townsfolk threw flowers and hit drums, their sound nothing more than a muffled jingle in Xandra's ears.

Her mother's rooftop never disappointed. To her right, left, and everywhere she looked, potted flowers in perfect bloom basked in warm orange light. Xandra tightened her grip on the ledge, kicking her feet against the air.

She glanced back to the rooftop, where her mother's plants swayed gently with the wind. Usually, they'd have brought a smile to her face, or prompted her farther away from the edge. But now there was no particular warmth in her heart.

In fact, she couldn't feel anything at all.

Everything beside her arrival at Blossom Hill, the rusted signs, the ice cream shop, her withered garden. Or her volunteer work for the festival, the sculpture she couldn't see clearly, the hag who hid in her son's name. Or her talk with Jasmine, her rugged hair, her tear streaked face.

It's all so blurry now.

All she remembers is the scent of the flowers, red moons, and gold. Striking, sad gold. The thought of it constricted her chest. She gasped when her kicking feet dragged against the wall, setting her world still again.

Xandra's hands clasped the ledge ever tighter, the constricting pain in her chest worsening with each second. What was it that made it so hard to breathe? The realization of how high up she is? Or the thought she so tried to escape?

It isn't the truth, because it isn't. She begged herself then, pleaded for her mind to forget, to look ahead instead. But she couldn't forget, and his words still rang in her ears.

When she woke from that dream, two tears rolled as she opened her eyes. That was all she remembered. How she got here, how she evaded her brother, she couldn't remember. Only those words.

And she hated to admit it, because it wasn't the truth, was it? But the suffocating emptiness in her chest, the tightness of her jaw when she remembers each nightmare, each dream in perfect, placid clarity. She knows she misses him. And her too. She misses the days the three of them spent together, unbothered with the rules of the world.

It couldn't be mistaken. But she has always flicked the thought off, because it was stupid and weak. And it was the past she shouldn't keep looking back on. What has gone has gone. What was before couldn't stay the same today. Time has to move forward.

"But does it really have to right now?"

A gasp. Another sharp jab. The white lights blurred into focus beneath her, the parade exactly in front of her house. This close to the festival, she could hear the people's melodious hymn, their petals and laughter dancing in the air.

The sculpture, too, was close. Through foggy eyes, she leaned a little forward, watching each part of the sculpture light up. Xandra blinked, something in her mind clicking in. The figure was undeniable, undoubtedly recognizable.

A blue fairy.

Its face formed in a delicate smile, lashes hideously long. A sharp, long nose stabbed smack-dab in the middle of its face, eyes closed into two half crescents. Its long, limp clothes were accented with gold, and in its hand, a bouquet of forget-me-nots.

Something hooked onto the collar of Xandra's shirt and she shot backward, back thudding against the roof.

A surprised grunt. Her vision swam, the rooftop's lights going in and out of focus. An incessant ringing salvaged her ear, and her breathing became labored.

Xandra opened her eyes to big golden ones. "M...Manasseh?"

It's real. She isn't dreaming this time, is she? "Are you really..." Her voice was soft against the harsh golden glow.

Manasseh stood, arms resting on the ledge where she used to sit. He was small, like the last time she had seen him. His drab, brown clothes were tattered, dirty. Damp. His hair, too, brushing his shoulders ever slightly, just as she had cut it, was wrung into thin wet strands framing his pale face.

Just as she had last seen him.

So unlike the dream she made for him.

"I guess I forgot to tell you, but the sculpture you and your mom made..." Manasseh started, young voice scratchy like a broken recording. "I didn't really get the chance to see it. Even though you worked so hard for it."

Xandra couldn't choke out a word, still sprawled on the dusty tiles. She swore she forgot how to breathe. Her mind still swam, the festival lights showering over the sight before her.

Manasseh turned, and Xandra's world stopped. She begged to close her eyes, to forget what was in front of her. But it still flashed: his pale skin, purple lips, and dim bronze eyes the most lifeless they've ever been.

Xandra flinched when he finally turned towards her.

Nothing but a bright smile.

She let go of a breath she's been holding, pinched face collapsing in relief.

"Hey, tell me what it looks like?"

Manasseh held a hand up to the blindfold wrapped around his head, toying with the seams. He lifted a corner as if to check, but pulled it down immediately after.

"But I suppose I should help you up first!" Xandra scurried backward when he advanced to give her a hand.

Manasseh tilted his head. "Are you afraid of me?"

Xandra opened her, closed it again, gulped, and spoke. "I thought you wouldn't be coming to the festival." She decided to play her part.

But of course she hasn't forgotten.

The edges in which the world before her grows and lifts, from what she's seen, what she wants to see, and back again. Constantly overlapping, always fluctuating.

She took the dead boy's hand.

Manasseh turned his head and frowned, "It must've been selfish of me leaving you and Jasmine like that."

Xandra gave him a side-eyed look, sitting on a bench in front of blue and white flowers.

"It's a fairy." Xandra announced, watching Manasseh scurry around the edge of the rooftop to watch the parade.

"The pretty ones or the ones with fangs?"

Xandra paused, then continued in her usual stoic voice. "Both. It depends on how you'd look at them."

"So it changes?"

"No, it's permanently ugly."

The young boy turned to her with a betrayed face. "You just said it depends!"

"Yeah well sometimes you can choose to look at it as if it's beautiful, or see it as it is."

Manasseh frowned, then collapsed on the bench across her. He held his chin in thought for a while before letting out a tired exhale. "I don't get it."

Xandra raised a hand to pick out a single forget-me-not between them. In a silent whisper, almost to herself, "And it has forget-me-nots. A bouquet of it."

Manasseh held up a hand like how he'd used to when Xandra would teach him. "I know! I know! The Miyo-somethings!"

A small smile lifted the corners of Xandra's face, eyes locked on the flower's petals. "Myosotis."

"Yeah, that's what I said."

"You did not say that."

"I did!"

Xandra reclined on her seat with a chuckle, pained as it may be. She looked up at the sky and rested her arm over her eyes. "Honestly, you never change."

"Xandra? Something the matter?"

She took in a breath to keep the tears from forming and looked back at Manasseh. He wore a worried look despite the blindfold over his eyes. But of course she still hasn't forgotten why he wore it, and why he wore it now.

Xandra gulped, shaking her head as to not let the situation overcome her.

"Have you been writing lately?" She asked him. "You barely talked to us...before the–" She stopped herself and shook her head again.

"Writing..." A cheeky smile. "Heh, I forgot about that."

Xandra blinked at him. Glaring, she spoke in a teacher's voice. "You would never know how to write letters if you've been so lazy to practice, Manasseh."

He whined, putting his feet up the bench and waving his hand as if to say it's no big deal. "I already know my ABC's, lay it off for a while."

"That's not enough!" Xandra crossed her arms and huffed with her eyes closed. "You came to me first because you said you wanted to know how to write, and I promised I would teach you because you looked so desperate."

She opened her eyes to give him a stern look. "I still haven't forgotten that."

Manasseh went silent for a moment, lost in his own mind. "But what if I told you I didn't want to anymore? To write letters?"

Xandra didn't answer, a slow realization setting in. Her mouth hung agape, eyes dropping to the Myosotis flowers in front of her.

Manasseh chuckled, waving his hand again nonchalantly. "Don't worry about it. I've learned enough and...I did already write one. Just one." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Although it isn't as good as you might've wanted my writing to be."

"Manasseh...how long? How long have you–" Xandra paused, forcing the words out of her mouth. "How long have you not wanted to write letters?"

Tears formed in her eyes as she looked up at him. "It sounds selfish. But I want to know if I atleast helped." Her voice shook.

A small smile found its way on Manasseh's face, "I can't answer that."

Xandra fell silent, a shaky breath escaping her. Right. He looked up at the boy in front of her. Blindfolded, pale, hair and clothes a mess. Just under his hair and on the seams of his blindfolded, dried blood flaked off.

A corpse.

And yet not. Because when she blinked he'd be gone, and reappear in a quick second.

Xandra's eyes dropped to the forget-me-nots. Her heart twisted. "It's time we end this." His words rang in her mind. She wanted to lift her head, to see if he still had that lifeless smile on his face. To see if he'd lightened up. If the boy she knew was who he still was, or if she knew him at all.

The tears that hung on the corners of her eyes fell and rolled to her chin. Xandra quickly wiped it away, desperately hiding her face in her hair. Because the dreams she's had, they weren't nightmares at all. And she loved them. She cherished every moment she couldn't in the past.

But it was nothing more than playing house.

Xandra lifted her face and gave him a light smile, holding a single Myosotis flower. "It's called forget-me-not for a reason." Xandra's smile widened, reaching her eyes as she tried to give the most energetic voice she could muster.

"It's a promise, to never forget."

Manasseh took the flower with a teasing smile. He twirled it around with a laugh, "Hah! Am I really the kind you'd forget so easily?"

"No, that's the problem."

Manasseh's smile dropped. "Hey, send me off with a smile." He stood up. "Will you?"

Xandra shot up, approaching him as he sat on the rooftop's ledge. "Wait! You're leaving already?"

Her raw eyes filled with distraught, mouth agape. Xandra's hand flailed to catch his arm.

But it was too late, Manasseh had already leapt off, though he stayed in midair, floating. Underneath, the parade laughed and striked its drums, color exploding in the midnight sky.

"At least–At least visit Jasmine! Let's go back to the lake again." Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably, her grip tightening.

"I wanted to play more, with you and Jasmine. We never had enough time. I–!" A sob racked her words.

Xandra climbed up the ledge, dangerously close to the edge. Manasseh's face twisted to shock, then disbelief, filled with terror. But Xandra only edged ever closer. "Please! If you're going to leave, take me with you.

"At least if I die, I could make it up to you. That'd mean we're even right?" Her teary eyes grew wide. This is the only way I could tell you I'm sorry.

"And I..." Fireworks blasted to the sky, coloring the sky pinks and blues and yellows. Xandra raised her voice. "I want to be with you more! And Jasmine! I want to play by the lake, I want to have sleepovers again. I want to buy ice cream, I want to watch the sunset. I want to have picnic, I–"

Xandra closed her eyes and shouted above the fireworks. "I don't want it all to end! Not like this, not ever." She shook her head, breaths coming in short gasps.

"Xandra."

Manasseh, still suspended in the air, bowed closer and smiled. He pulled out the Myosotis and held it close to his face. "Even if it has ended, I know you won't forget.

"You promised, after all."

With another spark of glittering fireworks and rotten blue petals, he was gone.

Xandra shot backwards again to the rooftop's tiles, far away from the ledge. Her breathing came ragged, tethered.

She looked at the bench he sat on. Nothing. She looked at the ledge he jumped off of. No one.

She was all alone. But his words continued to ring in her head.

"You won't forget, but remember yourself."

Xandra didn't leave that floor until the next morning.

***

Her apartment reeked of something old, like jackets at the end of her closet, or papers browned at the edges.

Xandra dropped her briefcase on the low Japanese table and took out a clear blue folder. It had been around two weeks and a half since her vacation at Blossom Hill, and everything had gone back to normal. Well, as normal as it can get.

Right after the festival, Xandra found Jasmine passed out on the floor of their living room. Apparently Xandra had offered her some drinks to get her out of the way and it worked.

Xander however, was busy covering up for 'Miyo' and Xandra's scandal from the preparations as well as helping finish the work she hadn't finished, which was but polishing a few loose screws on the sculpture.

Xandra had offered to completely redesign it at the last minute but after she ran away, her brother could only try and put the sculpture to a somewhat decent shape.

She collapsed on the tattered brown sofa with a folder in one hand and a phone in the other.

"She's a fairly new speaker, started it when she was in prison." William clicked his tongue, voice muted in the staticy signal. "Honestly. Who'd want to listen to some abuser fresh out of prison."

Xandra closed the folder and let it sit on her lap as she reclined on the sofa. "That's what being rich gets you."

"One look at her social media accounts and you'd know every one of her devoted followers are bought."

Xandra turned to look at the flickering lamps bathing her apartment in orange hues. "But why would she be...here?" Disgust twisted her mouth into a grimace, eyes locking onto the window that overseered towering city lights.

"Apparently she's been going around on a little house truck and booking on cheap event centers with pocket money from her dead parents."

"She's at Blossom Hill the same week as I've been."

"Well, It's safe to say she's been stalking her son's dead friend for some clout."

Xandra's breath hitched in her throat. She sat up, eyebrows furrowing. "You're saying she could have staged all of what happened in Blossom Hill?"

"Not 'could have', Xandra. I'm certain."

William continued. "When you pass out, do you remember anything?"

"I don't remember any woman knocking me over the head, if that's what you're hinting at."

"Then were there times you passed out and woke up in the same place?"

"Not many."

Xandra's eyebrows shot up in realization but instantly dropped back to her annoyed glare. "Tch. I don't know why I didn't see it sooner."

"You've been too busy with everything, I understand why you wouldn't."

Xandra paused. "Right."

"Also have you been taking your medication seriously?"

"Didn't pass out once on Blossom Hill."

"That's good."

Silence on each end.

"Are you busy?" Asked William.

Xandra looked at the blue folder and flitted through the papers before throwing it on the table. "Aren't I always?"

A sigh and a laugh. "Just know that whatever comes of the trial, me and Xander would be by your side. No old woman can harm you, got that?"

She hummed, settling her nape on the sofa and placing an arm over her forehead. "Not like I'm gonna let her anyway."

Xandra opened one eye, peeking under her arm. "She isn't getting away with it anymore. Not after eleven years."

She continued. "But thanks for the information, William. I'll be telling that to my lawyer."

"Don't mention it, I'm not letting my favorite patient lose this one." William chuckled. "Good night!"

"Night."

Xandra hung up and basked in the silence. She stared at the window, tired eyes seeking the sky for stars. Just like always. The sky here never shines.

I'm so tired. I'm just so tired. But I don't want to turn my head away anymore.

Xandra remembered a time when they were kids. The first time she'd seen Manasseh so upset. The first time he'd raised his voice other than for childish reasons.

"It won't disappear if you just ignore it, Xandra. Face it."

A tear rolled down her temple. I hope you're seeing me now, Manasseh.

I'm done playing.