Regrowth
As soon as Wallflower heard the knock on her door, she knew who it was. Sure enough, a familiar voice called out just seconds later.
“Wallflower?” Sunset said. “Are you in there?”
Sighing, Wallflower hauled herself off the couch. Just as she reached to unlock the door, she shook her head and walked back across the room, picking up her sweater from its place on the floor. She threw it on, an act which only made her hair even messier, but Wallflower couldn’t bring herself to care.
Another knock. “Wallflower?”
Rather than respond, Wallflower crossed the room in silence. She unlocked the door and pulled it open, and was greeted by the face she did and didn’t want to see.
“Hi, Sunset,” Wallflower mumbled. Faking enthusiasm was just too much effort.
“H-hey,” Sunset said. “I, uhm… I was hoping to talk to you, is that alright?”
Wallflower shifted a bit. “About what?” she asked.
“Well, just… Our last conversation ended kind of abruptly,” Sunset said. “I wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”
“Oh.” Wallflower took a sharp breath. “Y-yeah, everything’s fine.”
“And…” Sunset rubbed her arm. “I was hoping we could pick up where we left off?”
A flurry of feelings tied Wallflower’s stomach in knots. In all fairness, she should have seen this coming. “Yeah, okay,” she said softly, stepping away from the door. “You can come in.”
Sunset walked inside, closing the door behind her. A brief glance around the room only deepened the fears that brought her here in the first place. Cracked paint and empty shelves were the only decor, save for a row of potted plants that had long since withered and died. The musty carpet had stains and spots every few feet, and was fraying along the edges of the room, exposing the cold gray concrete beneath. Against the far wall, a blue couch with torn cushions sat as the only furniture. The only other doors led to what Sunset assumed were the bathroom and Wallflower’s bedroom.
With a heavy sigh, Wallflower collapsed onto the stale couch cushions. Sunset followed, sitting down beside her.
“Comfy,” Sunset said.
Wallflower gave a sour laugh. “No it isn’t."
“Y-yeah…”
Silence held for nearly a minute before Wallflower spoke up. “So you wanted to talk…?”
Sunset took a deep breath. “I do, yes,” she said. “It’s been almost a week and I’ve had a lot of time to think, and well…” She looked around the barren apartment once more. “I realized I wasn’t being very fair to you.”
“I wouldn’t phrase it like that.” Wallflower said. “If anything, you weren’t being fair to yourself.”
Sunset turned her head. “What to you mean?”
“When you asked me, I wanted to say yes,” Wallflower sighed. “I wanted to more than anything. But I’m not good enough for you, Sunset. Not then, and not now.”
“That’s not true,” Sunset said.
“You deserve better,” Wallflower said, her eyes losing focus as she stared at the floor. “Better than worthless trash like me.”
Sunset gently placed a hand on Wallflower’s knee. “I wish you wouldn’t talk about yourself that way,” she said.
Wallflower shifted away. “Would you rather I lie instead?”
“I’d rather you see you the way I see you,” Sunset said. “I’ve seen you so… So passionate about life, Wallflower. When I first asked about your garden, the way your eyes lit up…”
“And then what happened?” Wallflower said. “I got all excited, until I remembered that I was alone. Then I just shut down, the way I always do…”
“You’re not alone anymore,” Sunset said.
Wallflower rolled her eyes. “Tell that to the everyone who quit the gardening club after a few weeks.”
“I know, and I’m so sorry that happened.” Sunset moved a little closer. “But, uhm… That's not what I meant,” she said. Her eyes met Wallflower’s own, and for a moment, the room was still and silent.
“I-I… Sunset, I told you, I can’t,” Wallflower said, her gaze breaking away. “People like me don’t belong with people like you.”
“People like you?” Sunset shook her head. “People can’t be ranked or measured like that. You’re you. You’re the only you, just as I’m the only me.”
“That still proves my point,” Wallflower said. “Even if I’m the only person like me, that doesn’t change what I am—a broken, useless shell. You deserve someone better than that, someone who can smile and laugh and enjoy life with you. I-I can’t do those things anymore, Sunset.” A hollow sigh left her lips. “Somewhere along the way, I just… I forgot how to be happy, and I’ve given up on trying to learn how again.”
“Well I haven’t given up on you,” Sunset said, “and I never will. If you don’t believe you can be happy again, I’ll believe it enough for the both of us.”
Wallflower hugged her arms to her chest. “I… I know you mean well, I really do,” she said, “but you can’t fix me. Some people are just beyond saving.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” Sunset said. “I told you before, Wallflower—I know what it’s like to be lonely, and all the awful feelings that come with it. I know how inescapable it feels… I really, really do.”
“Maybe I’m a different kind of lonely,” Wallflower sighed. “Even when you didn’t have your friends, you still interacted with people, but me? I’m just… I’m like a ghost, even now. Aside from you, no one else bothers to notice me…”
“It doesn’t have to be that way forever,” Sunset said. “It takes a lot of active effort to make friends, but I understand it’s not that easy. Anxiety is a really hard thing to push past.” Again, she placed her hand gently on Wallflower’s leg, but this time Wallflower didn’t flinch away. “But having someone with you, someone you’re, uhm… Close to…” She took a deep breath, burying a brief rush of feelings. “It can make all the difference in the world.”
For a few seconds, the two of them just stared at each other. The slightest hints of redness warmed Wallflower’s cheeks, until she pulled herself away once more. “Maybe I don’t want to make a difference,” she said, frowning. “Maybe I just want to stay here and decay, marking the days until I run out of reasons to keep living.”
Pressure built up behind Sunset’s eyes, her breath faltering. “Do you really want that...?” she asked.
Wallflower didn’t answer, instead staring blankly at the wall.
“Wallflower…” Sunset spoke in an almost-whisper. “Are… Are you safe right now?”
Again, Wallflower didn’t reply. She turned away, her gaze falling to the sleeves of her sweater, then to the floor.
Sunset caught the brief flick of Wallflower’s eyes towards her arms, and immediately a horrible thought entered her mind—she had never, ever seen Wallflower without a sweater on. As much as Sunset wanted to, she was unable to push the thought away. With a shuddering breath, she put on her best determined face and spoke up.
“Wallflower, I need you to look at me.”
Wallflower stayed silent, curling into herself as if doing so would make her disappear entirely.
“Please,” Sunset said, fighting to keep her voice calm. “Look at me,” she repeated.
A shaky breath passed Wallflower’s lips, and she started to turn around. She moved as slowly as she could, but inevitably she was face to face with Sunset once more, withering beneath her look of concern.
Sunset took a deep breath. She hated that she had to do this, and she hoped against hope that she was wrong, but she didn’t have a choice. Doing her best to keep her words steady, she looked Wallflower in the eyes.
“Roll up your sleeves,” she said.
At that, Wallflower recoiled as if gripped by terror—partly because she was. Her mind raced back and forth, desperate to find any possible way to refuse Sunset’s request, but nothing came to mind at all. A wave of dread swept over her, a rush of adrenaline pulsing through her veins. She wanted to flee, to sprint to the bathroom and lock herself inside, but deep down, Wallflower knew there was no way out of this.
Gritting her teeth, she closed her eyes and reached down, grasping the cuff of her sweater and slowly pulling it up to her elbow. With a quarter of her shame revealed, Wallflower let resigned inertia guide her hands to roll up the other sleeve.
Sunset gasped the instant her fears were confirmed. She covered her mouth, unable to hold back the tears that stung her eyes. Wallflower had dozens of scars covering her arms. Some were faded, some were scabbed over, and some looked like they’d been made only hours ago. On her left arm was a scar larger than all the others—thick, wide and purple, the remnants of a cut far deeper than the rest.
“How long…?” Sunset couldn’t keep her voice from wavering. When Wallflower kept her silence, Sunset repeated herself as firmly as she could. “How long, Wallflower?”
Wallflower tucked her arms close to her chest, doing her best to hide them. “Before you knew me,” she said softly. “It started when I was fourteen…”
Four years… Wallflower had been doing this to herself for four years. Sunset resisted the urge to pull the girl into a hug, fearing she’d be rebuffed for attempting to do so.
“And before you ask, it wasn’t because of you,” Wallflower said. “I-I mean, yeah, you were pretty awful to me—to everyone that year… But that had nothing to do with it, I promise.”
Sunset could tell by Wallflower’s unsteady tone that she was lying.
“I just… I dunno. I have all these awful feelings, and I always have this sense that I don’t deserve to feel as bad as I do.” Wallflower shifted, sighing. “I guess hurting myself is a way to prove that things really are as bad as they feel. If they weren’t, I wouldn’t be doing this, right…?”
Sunset couldn’t hold back the tears. Wallflower had been suffering for so long, had hated herself so much... And even after they had become friends and grown closer, Sunset had been too blind—too stupid to see what was going on.
“It’s not so bad,” Wallflower said, her eyes tracing over the scars. “Though, uhm… I guess my thighs are a lot worse.”
Caution be damned. Sunset lurched forward, embracing Wallflower and holding her close. What else could she do? There were no words to express what she was feeling—the guilt, the fear, the ever-swelling heaviness that filled her heart. When Wallflower didn’t resist, Sunset hugged her a little tighter.
A slow, shallow breath later, Wallflower’s hands found their way around Sunset too. She didn’t deserve this kindness, let alone the chance to return it. Still, something was stopping her from pushing Sunset away, something rooted in a long-lost wish for compassion that she had given up on long ago. Wallflower let her head rest on Sunset’s shoulder, immersing herself in the warmth of the embrace, the sound of Sunset’s slowing breaths, the smell of strawberry shampoo… She closed her eyes, sighing as Sunset at last pulled away. Even as she did, her hands found Wallflower’s own and took gentle hold of them.
“Thank you for telling me,” Sunset said. She didn’t dare release Wallflower’s hands to wipe away her tears. “I want you to know that I don’t think any less of you because of this.”
Wallflower looked down at the disgusting, shredded skin of her forearms. “You’re either naive or lying,” she said. “Look at what I’ve done to myself—no one could ever love that.”
Sunset bit her lip. “W-well,” she said, “that’s just flat-out wrong. You need help, Wallflower. That doesn’t make you bad or weak or anything of the sort.”
“I always need help,” Wallflower said. “If my parents still remembered me, they'd confirm it for you. I’m nothing but a parasite, emotionally and otherwise.”
“That is not true,” Sunset spoke as firmly as she could. “And just because someone will always need help doesn’t mean they’re not worth helping.”
“I-I still don’t get it,” Wallflower said, glancing at Sunset. “Why do you even want to help me?”
Sunset held Wallflower’s hands a little tighter. “You already know why,” she said softly.
Wallflower’s cheeks reddened, and she looked away once more. “I don’t understand that either,” she said.
“I don’t really understand it myself,” Sunset said. “It’s just one of those things where I knew it when I felt it. Maybe it’s because I love seeing you passionate about the things you love.” Wallflower’s blush brightened a little more, and Sunset moved a little closer. “Or maybe it’s because you’re a living monument to me being a good person.”
“What do you mean?” Wallflower asked.
Sunset’s gaze fell to the scars on Wallflower’s arms. “Back when I was so awful, I hurt you more than anyone else,” she said. “I didn’t even know just how much until now…”
“I told you, it's not your fault,” Wallflower said. “I’m the only one who’s responsible for what I do to myself.”
“I made you feel so horrible in the first place,” Sunset said, sighing. “Tangentially or not, it was my fault. But now? You’ve forgiven me. You like me. The fact that I’m sitting here with you right now is proof that I’m no longer the person I used to be.”
Wallflower let out a soft exhale. “Everyone likes you now, Sunset,” she said. “What makes me so special?”
Sunset shifted even closer to Wallflower, so close that their legs were barely touching each other. “Well…” she said, “maybe I just think you’re really cute.”
A flutter danced in Wallflower’s heart. She swallowed thickly. “Even with… Even though I look like this?”
“When I look at you, I don’t see someone scarred and broken,” Sunset said. “I see someone who’s survived through so much, all on her own.” She squeezed Wallflower’s hands in her own. “But you don’t have to be alone anymore.”
“I-I’m such a mess though, Sunset…” Wallflower said, sighing. “Why would you want that in your life?”
“Wallflower…” Sunset hand found its way to Wallflower’s reddened cheek. “I want to be a part of your life, just like I want you to be part of mine. I want to help you find your happiness again, and…” She drifted towards the girl beside her. “I want to be a part of that happiness."
Sunset’s eyes flicked down, then back up to meet the beautiful brown eyes she could so easily get lost in. She moved slowly, giving Wallflower time to pull away if she wanted, but she didn’t move at all.
Wallflower held Sunset’s gaze, watching those bright blue eyes become half-lidded as her own eyes did the same. “You’re not being fair to yourself,” she whispered, making no attempt to stop Sunset from closing in.
Then, with a touch as soft as gentle snowfall, their lips brushed together. They parted for less than a second before joining in a proper kiss.
“You’re not being fair to yourself,” Wallflower said in the brief moments when their lips were apart. She returned for a second kiss, and then a third, reveling in the warmth.
When Sunset pulled away, a grin adorned her face. She watched those brown eyes slowly open, gazing into them as she would a beautiful flower.
“You’re not being fair to yourself…” Wallflower whispered again. She held Sunset’s waist, guiding her into another kiss. It was longer than the others, and when they parted, Wallflower shivered.
Sunset lightly touched Wallflower’s cheek again. “I should have done that a long time ago,” she said.
“Sunset…” Wallflower opened her eyes, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Do you love me…?”
“I... I don’t know,” Sunset said, her cheeks burning brightly. “Do you love me?”
Wallflower was silent for a moment. “I don’t know either,” she finally said.
Sunset sat back on the couch, holding Wallflower’s hand. “Want to find out together?”
The smallest of smiles grew on Wallflower’s face. She scooted close to Sunset, leaning into her and resting her head on her shoulder.
“Y-yeah,” she said. “I’d like that.”