[indent][color=#fb0207][b][i]Please stop crying.[/i][/b][/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]The thought drifted through the girl’s mind, sluggish and burdensome, as she lay flat on her back, eyes locked on the ceiling. The air felt suffocating, pressing down on her chest, but not in a way that led to panic—more like a slow, constant load she couldn’t quite shake off. [/color][/i]

[color=#a9a9a9][i]Another restless night. [/i][/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]She could hear sniffling from across the room, the soft sound of crying filling the almost empty space, broken only by the hum of the air conditioner.[/color][/i]

[color=#a9a9a9][i]Squeezing her eyes shut, she hoped that if she willed herself hard enough, maybe the sounds would fade away. Maybe the world would stop feeling so hollow. But the more she tried to block it out, the clearer it became, like the small gasps and hitching breaths were growing louder [/i][/color][i][b][color=#a9a9a9]with[/color][/b][/i][color=#a9a9a9][i] the continued stillness instead of against it. [/i][/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]Sierra wasn’t sure how long it had been, but it felt like hours since Harper had started.[/color][/i]

[color=#a9a9a9][i]Her chest tightened. Every soft sniffle from the other bed chipped away at the emotional walls the girl had been carefully constructing since…well, everything went to shit. She’d told herself she needed to be strong, composed. Calm—that’s what Harper needed now. Not someone falling apart right beside her.[/i][/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]But the truth was, it was hard—harder than the girl wanted to admit.[/color][/i]

[color=#a9a9a9][i]She rolled over, pressing her face into the pillow as if that would muffle the sounds, smother the guilt. But Harper’s sobs crawled around her, wrapping Sierra in a suffocating sense of helplessness. It wasn’t the loud, desperate wailing she had half-expected, no—it was worse. The soft sniffles, the kind of crying that crept into your bones, making everything feel colder.[/i][/color]

[i][color=#fb0207]Just stop crying already[/color][/i][color=#a9a9a9][i], she thought again, the plea sounding weaker, almost cruel now.[/i][/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]But Harper didn’t stop. And Sierra knew, deep down, that she wouldn’t. Not tonight. [/color][/i]

[color=#a9a9a9][i]With a shaky breath, she pushed herself up, sitting on the edge of her bed, her feet dangling over the floor as she stared at the shadowed walls. The dim light from outside cast ghostly shapes around the room, but none of it felt real—not compared to Harper’s cries pulling her back to reality every time, tugging her out of her own head.[/i][/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]Before she could stop herself, her feet hit the cold wooden floor, and without thinking much more, Sierra padded softly over to Harper’s bed. Her sister was curled up, facing away, her small frame shaking with each little sob. The girl watched for a moment, her heart full as she took in the slight rise and fall of Harper’s shoulders, the way her sister’s body tensed like she was trying to hold it all in but couldn’t. The sounds weren’t violent, not raw, just soft—too soft, too restrained, and that made it feel all the more painful.[/color][/i]

[color=#a9a9a9][i]Sierra hesitated, her hand hovering over Harper briefly before finally resting it gently on her sister’s shoulder. Her body flinched at the touch, just a tiny jerk, but she didn’t pull away, didn’t retreat into herself. The light brunette swallowed the tight lump in her throat. Slowly, almost cautiously, she climbed into the bed beside her sister, pulling the covers over them both as she wrapped her arms around Harper’s trembling body.[/i][/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]Harper didn’t say a word, didn’t even acknowledge her, but she didn’t resist either. She let Sierra pull her close, let herself be held, and after a few moments, buried her face into Sierra’s chest. The low sobs didn’t stop, but they softened, the muffled sound filling the space between them as Sierra held on, stroking Harper’s hair in slow, gentle motions. Her own breathing felt shaky, uneven, but she tried to keep it steady, knowing Harper needed this—needed her.[/color][/i]

[color=#fb0207][i]“We’ll always have each other,” [/i][/color][i][color=#a9a9a9]Sierra whispered, all she could think of in the moment. [/color][/i][color=#fb0207][i]“No matter what else happens.”[/i][/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]Harper didn’t respond. But her presence, the warmth of her against Sierra’s chest, said enough.[/color][/i]
[color=#ffffff][hr][/color]
[i][color=#a9a9a9]Standing on the balcony, the last of the fading sun casted an orange glow over her face. [/color][/i]

[color=#a9a9a9][i]The warmth barely registered. [/i][/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]She brought the cigarette to her lips, feeling the paper crinkle softly between her fingers as it smouldered, burning down slower than she expected. Inhaling deeply, the acrid taste filled her lungs, a sharpness she welcomed against the dull ache in her chest. The faint sounds of the base—the hum of engines, probably a convoy passing by, and the distant chatter of soldiers—barely reached her. Out here, none of it really mattered.[/color][/i]

[color=#a9a9a9][i]Sierra exhaled, watching the smoke twist and curl into the cool evening air, vanishing into the dusky light. Her gaze drifted out to the horizon, where the shadows of the pine trees stretched endlessly. For a moment, her eyes remained on those dark shapes, letting her mind wander, but all she found was quiet—too much quiet. [/i][/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]How did it come to this? [/color][/i]

[color=#a9a9a9][i]Her fingers tightened around the cigarette as she took another drag. [/i][/color]

[i][color=#fb0207]I don't even like smoking. [/color][/i]

[color=#a9a9a9][i]It wasn't something she ever thought she'd do, not really. But grief had a funny way of unravelling you, pushing you into places you didn't recognize—into habits that weren't yours. The numbness that came with each drag felt like a strange relief somehow. She leaned her elbows on the cold metal railing, feeling the bite of it seep through her olive green jacket[/i][/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]The door behind her creaked open, snapping Sierra out of the trance. The soft click of the latch, the weight of footsteps behind her—familiar, heavy. Her uncle’s voice cut through the haze, gruff and surprised. [/color][/i]

[color=#ffffff][i]“Didn’t know you smoked.” [/i][/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]Sierra didn't turn to face him. She kept her eyes forward, the horizon blurring as her mind drifted. The cigarette hung between her fingers, symbolizing something she didn't quite want to claim but couldn't let go of. [/color][/i]

[color=#fb0207][i]“Started recently,” [/i][/color][i][color=#a9a9a9]she muttered, her voice flat, almost bored. There was a dark humour buried in her words, but even that felt faraway. She flicked the ash from the cigarette, watching it float like tiny embers against the darkening sky.[/color][/i]

[color=#a9a9a9][i]She could feel his eyes on her, the way he was studying her from the doorway, trying to piece her together. He wasn't used to seeing her like this—hell, she wasn't used to it either. But here she was, standing on a balcony, smoking like someone she didn't know. She could sense that he wanted to say something about it, ask something, but Sierra wasn't sure if she wanted to hear it.[/i][/color]

[i][color=#fb0207]“I'm fine,” [/color][/i][color=#a9a9a9][i]she said, preemptively cutting off any question he might have asked, her voice sharper than intended. She hated how false it sounded, even to her own ears. The truth was, she wasn't fine—hadn't been since….But admitting that felt like too much, so she let the lie hang in the air, like the smoke between them.[/i][/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]Her uncle stepped closer, his boots scraping softly against the concrete. [/color][/i][color=#ffffff][i]“Sierra,” [/i][/color][i][color=#a9a9a9]he started, voice softer now, with that careful tone people use when they know you're barely holding on. [/color][/i][color=#ffffff][i]“It's okay to not be fine. Especially now.” [/i][/color][i][color=#a9a9a9]He didn't say it directly, but she knew what he meant.[/color][/i]

[color=#a9a9a9][i]Sierra's jaw clenched, the cigarette burning down to its final inch between her fingers. She flicked the butt into the distance, watching it disappear into the encroaching darkness below, her gaze following it until she couldn't see it anymore. [/i][/color]

[i][color=#fb0207]“I know,” [/color][/i][color=#a9a9a9][i]she said after a beat of silence. She leaned a little more heavily on the railing, trying to find her balance.[/i][/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]Then, sighing, her breath shaky. [/color][/i]

[color=#fb0207][i]“I don't know how to do this. I don’t know what I’m doing or what I’m supposed to do….”[/i][/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]The admission slipped out before she could stop it, and the vulnerability in her voice startled her. She hadn't meant to let that crack show. Not to him, not to anyone. But it was too late to take it back now.[/color][/i]

[color=#a9a9a9][i]Her uncle moved closer, resting a hand on her shoulder, a gentle but firm presence at her side. [/i][/color][i][color=#ffffff]“You'll figure it out,”[/color][/i][color=#a9a9a9][i] he said kindly. [/i][/color][i][color=#ffffff]“And you won’t be alone. Barbara and I are…here to do whatever we can for you and Harper. They… would have wanted that.”[/color][/i]

[color=#a9a9a9][i]But that was just it. Sierra knew she did have to do it alone—at least most of it. [/i][/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]No one else could be what Harper needed right now. [/color][/i]

[color=#a9a9a9][i]No one else could be the strong one. [/i][/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]It had to be her.[/color][/i]

[color=#a9a9a9][i]It was always her. [/i][/color]
[color=#ffffff][hr] [/color]
[color=#a9a9a9][i]Sierra Baxter[/i][/color]
[i][color=#a9a9a9]Fort Bragg, NC[/color][/i]
[color=#a9a9a9][i]October 20, 2020[/i][/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]Admissions Office[/color][/i]
[color=#a9a9a9][i]Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT)[/i][/color]
[i][color=#a9a9a9]77 Massachusetts Ave[/color][/i]
[color=#a9a9a9][i]Cambridge, MA 02139[/i][/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]Dear Admissions Office,[/color][/i]

[color=#a9a9a9][i]I hope this letter finds you well. My name is Sierra Baxter, and I was recently accepted into MIT's Bachelor of Science in Bioengineering program for the upcoming academic year. I’m writing to formally request a deferral of my enrollment for one year due to unforeseen personal circumstances.[/i][/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]Earlier this month, my family suffered an unimaginable loss with the passing of both of my parents. In the wake of this tragedy, I now find myself in a position where I must focus on supporting my younger sister, Harper, as she adjusts to these sudden and devastating changes. As much as I value the opportunity to study at MIT and pursue my passion for bioengineering, I must prioritize my family’s needs during this difficult time.[/color][/i]

[color=#a9a9a9][i]With that in mind, I am requesting to delay my studies until the fall of 2021. This would give me the time I need to ensure my sister is properly cared for while also allowing me to fully process and heal from this loss, so that I may continue my education with the focus and dedication MIT deserves.[/i][/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]I deeply appreciate your understanding and consideration of my request. I look forward to joining the Bioengineering program next year when I am in a better position to engage with the challenging and rewarding experience I know that awaits me at MIT.[/color][/i]

[color=#a9a9a9][i]Sincerely,[/i][/color]

[i][color=#a9a9a9]Sierra Baxter [/color][/i][/indent] 
[color=#ffffff][COLOR=GRAY][CENTER][COLOR=8A9A5B][sup]_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/COLOR][url=https://open.spotify.com/track/2ndWbjiiNBEOrlfToKlABE?si=16720cd3d91a46fc][img]https://i.imgur.com/YWrjMkU.jpeg[/img][/url][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=8A9A5B][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR][I] Strigidae Dorms[/I] - [I]Pacific Royal Campus[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=8A9A5B][b]Dance Monkey #4.066:[/b][/COLOR][I] Smoke and Mirrors[/I][/right][/sup][/indent][COLOR=8A9A5B][SUP][sub]___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sub][/SUP][/COLOR][indent][sub][color=8A9A5B][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR][I] N/A[/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=8A9A5B][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR][COLOR=GRAY][I] Something's Gotta Give[/I][/color][/right][/SUP][/indent][/color][/color]

[indent][color=#a9a9a9]The door to Harper’s dorm room clicked shut with a small but distinct sound that reverberated through the stillness of the space. Sierra stood just inside the threshold, her fingers staying on the cold metal of the doorknob longer than necessary, feeling the tremor in her hand. From beyond the walls, the faint thrum of music floated in—a reminder that life was moving forward, students preparing for the dance still as if the late hour didn’t matter. [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]But here, inside this room, time felt suspended. Trapped, almost. [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Looking over, she couldn’t help but notice the neatly made bed, its corners tucked so precisely that they could probably cut. Even after all this time, Harper seemed to have held onto that rigid discipline of hers, as if letting go would somehow unravel her entirely. Sierra’s gaze swept over the desk, each item arranged in a way that almost felt obsessive. But her eyes snagged on one tiny detail—the coiled laptop cord, unplugged and lying like a snake ready to strike. It was the one imperfection in an otherwise immaculate space, and it made Sierra’s fingers twitch with the temptation to plug it in, though she resisted. She'd already gone through it earlier, digging through files with a skill that had become second nature, covering her tracks just as effortlessly.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]The room felt suffocating now, with its forced order and rigid control. Sierra took a few steps forward, her movements tentative, as if she were a guest in her sister's life. Her eyes wandered over Harper’s belongings, cataloging each item in its assigned place. Despite the differences in their personalities, the redhead saw fragments of herself in Harper—pieces of who she used to be, before everything shifted. It was as though their father’s ghost was woven into every detail of their lives, his influence lingering long after he was gone. They’d both absorbed the lessons of discipline and self-reliance, even if Harper showed it now in a way that made her seem more rigid, more distant.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Sierra exhaled slowly. [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]For all the order in this room, it felt like a prison of Harper’s own making, one she had built brick by brick. Moving toward the window, she pulled back the curtains, letting the cold evening light flood the room. She needed air—needed to escape, though she wasn’t sure what exactly she was running from. Her reflection in the glass startled her, the sharp lines of her face a mirror of the hardness she had carried for too long, an armour she rarely removed.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]A flicker of guilt passed through her.  Harper had always tried to be strong, but it was a mask, wasn’t it? Beneath the surface—beneath the perfectly made bed and the spotless desk—Harper was unravelling, maybe more than Sierra ever realized. How much of this had she missed, too wrapped up in her own bitterness and detachment? The walls Harper had built around herself seemed impenetrable, but Sierra’s own walls were stronger. And wasn’t that the irony—two sisters, both locked in their own emotional fortresses, neither able to break through?[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]She looked away,  her eyes landing on the framed photo sitting on Harper’s nightstand. The glass was cracked, a jagged line running through the center, splitting the image almost perfectly in two. Sierra hadn’t noticed it before, but now the imperfection seemed to leap out at her, impossible to ignore. In the picture, Harper stood with her team, her expression as aloof as her posture was rigid. The others smiled, their arms slung around one another in camaraderie, but Harper stood apart, hands at her sides, as though she was merely tolerating the moment. It wasn’t just stand-offishness—Harper looked like she didn’t belong.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]The image gnawed at Sierra. She could remember Harper, even in high school, managing to carve out her place, awkward and worrying though it sometimes was. She’d never been the social type, but she had always found a way to make room for herself, or at least she had pretended to. But in this photo, the brunette seemed disconnected, as if the walls she’d built had sealed her off from everyone else. Maybe it was because she hadn’t made close friends yet. Or maybe, Sierra thought with a pang, Harper didn’t even know how to try anymore.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Sierra’s gaze drifted over the faces in the picture again before settling back on Harper. The thought crept into her mind unbidden: [/color][color=#fb0207][i]How much of this is my fault?[/i][/color][color=#a9a9a9] Had she inadvertently trained Harper to shut people out, to be strong in a way that meant never relying on others? It wasn’t intentional, but in those times after their loss, Sierra had modelled self-sufficiency. Their father had drilled it into them both after all—the importance of standing on their own, of not needing anyone to pick them up when they fell. But looking at Harper now, even through the frame of a fractured photo, Sierra couldn’t help but feel the full load of that legacy.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]And then, her thoughts turned to Haven.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]She hadn't meant to think of Haven, but there she was, apparently somewhere in the back of her mind like an unanswered question. Those wings, a gift or curse, depending on how you looked at it, had made her think of their father before, she realized that now. [/color]

[i][color=#d2b48c]“At least here she is accepted for all of who she is. She doesn’t have to hide anything from us.”[/color][/i]

[color=#a9a9a9]Sierra’s fingers twitched. [/color]

[i][color=#fb0207]That’s what you think.[/color][/i]

[color=#a9a9a9]She turned away from the window, moving toward the closet. She knew what she was looking for before her hand even reached the knob. It had been Harper who first found it during their time together, an old relic of their father’s life that she’d had zero interest in exploring. Why bother to know more about the man she’d spent 18 years of her life with and had grown to feel nothing but indifference for? But now, standing in Harper’s room with the photo of her sister’s cool expression fresh in her mind, the redhead couldn’t shake the feeling that she had missed something important.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]The closet door opened with a soft creak, revealing Harper’s neatly arranged clothes and belongings. Sierra’s eyes moved past the uniforms and sweaters, zeroing in on the box tucked away in the corner. It was the same box Harper had taken when she moved into the dorms, filled with notebooks, letters, and that damned journal. Sierra crouched, pulling the box toward her, her hands trembling as she lifted the lid. There it was—the worn leather cover, its pages yellowed and fragile with age. For a moment, she hesitated, uncertainty constricting her chest.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]But she opened it anyway. [/color][/indent]