The Night We Talked as Far as "It Might Stop If I Left"

Airnote  ·  Lysa  ·  Jul 9, 2026

After measuring the mark on Lysa's back against Yu's palm, in bed after the bath, there was a pause. Then Yu said something that wasn't going to feel good to hear.

If I left Karimatra — left you — maybe it would heal. Maybe the symptom would stop.

That the mark had appeared after the summoning. That it kept spreading. All of it had clearly been sitting, unresolved, in Yu's chest this whole time.

Something sharp went through the middle of Lysa's chest — but it wasn't a possibility she hadn't already let cross her own mind. That it might be because Yu is here. That it might stop if he left. Neither was zero, and she knew that.

Even so, Lysa couldn't say then leave, right now. Not while there was no pain, not while she could still live like this. Walking back now from the reality she'd chosen herself, the night she called him with black magic — that felt wrong.

But ignoring the frightening possibility together, saying nothing — that felt worse. That Yu had put the thought on the table, instead of carrying it alone, was something Lysa was, in its own way, glad for.

Yu promised: I won't do anything sudden. I won't just disappear. Lysa promised something back: I won't carry the fear alone either — I'll keep bringing it here, each time it comes.

Held tight in each other's arms, the possibility that leaving might stop it, and Lysa's own selfish wish not to be left — both mixed quietly into the air of that night.

This is as far as tonight goes, they decided, and got ready to sleep side by side.

Having someone who would hold the fear along with her, right there beside her — that, Lysa quietly confirmed in her chest, was the shape of doing okay for her, right now.