Chương 421: Chapter 344

"Oh shit. Did you hear?" Rare were the times these days when Emilia looked shaken to such an extent—at least with me. Wide-eyed, she stared right at me with an iron grip on her phone.

"Shit, shit, shit." I glanced at her for a moment, finding it difficult to rip my attention away from studying Marley's battles. She was a real headache to plan around for given that her Pokemon could easily run circles around mine save for Honey, who I hadn't used all day specifically for this occasion. There was also my costume to adjust and plan for—since we were friends, I was going to wear a special one for our battle and not just go with the multiple I'd been repeating en masse.

Emilia called my name again, and I spun toward her on my chair, sinking deeper into it as if I were melting. The Kalosian Knight idea had gone over well, even if it was delayed due to costume issues until Melody finally got it delivered to me. The accent was… a work in progress that Poketch stopped me from doing because it'd be offensive. A brand risk, they'd called it.

"When I took refuge in your room, it was to really get away from all the noise." If I'd stuck with Maylene during study time, I never would have been able to focus and I would have been trying to hang out with her within twenty minutes—plus, she had work to do for the opening of the knockout stage; Denzel was streaming, most of the time with some people I didn't know online; Pauline had just been here, but had gone to buy us lunch while I holed up in this Pokemon Center.

"If I lose this next battle, I'm screwed. I won't get to fight anymore." I'd gotten enough pressure from Poketch telling me that it would be really great if I got to the knockout stages given that this was when the majority of TV and internet viewers started tuning in to understand not to screw around and apply myself meticulously.

So far, I'd basically been living a dream, fluttering my wings to carry myself from one fight to the next, caring more about the hilarity and adrenaline of a battle and about what was learned than the results themselves. If it were up to me, that would still have been the case. I wasn't nervous; I just knew that a lot of people counted on me to make them a crap ton of money.

Only the top six would be allowed to advance within our group, and both Marley and I were jockeying for that position, somehow having exactly the exact same win-to-loss ratio. In these final days of the group stages, there was no room for error. That did not mean fun was out of the picture; it was just that every single angle had to be considered. Honey would be instrumental in the battle, but Marley was smart, and she knew this.

What measures would she take to counter him, did she have Pokemon unavailable to fight, did—"I think it'd be better to tell you instead of you finding out." — counter him? Crobat's going to be a factor for certain, but who are going to be the other two? Arcanine? Electrode? Having to consider which of my own Pokemon to bring in factoring on my opponent's hadn't been something I'd been too experienced with before this month. Only Gym Battles had filled a similar niche—"Cecilia and Temperance broke up…

a few days ago," Emilia said all of a sudden, "It was announced today on her socials—not that I look at them often or anything. Haha…" I snatched her phone from her hands faster than she could react. The statement Temperance put out was short, to the point, and eerily similar to mine. Hauntingly so, in fact. There was an obviously hidden facet that people would be able to glean: there was more behind the breakup than an 'amicable split' as was described. I read it.

Then I read it again, and again, desperate to decipher these platitudes, to read in-between the lines to understand what happened because— Because despite it not making any sense, I still felt involved in Cecilia's life. I had hurt her so terribly in a way I possibly could not fully understand despite knowing how awful my actions had been, so hearing that she'd moved on to someone else… it hurt me at first when there was still enough fuel for jealousy within me, but now, I was just happy for her.

Had been happy for her. My heart felt cold. Charred sticks and spent coal, smoke, and ash. The afternoon sun shone brightly through the living room's curtains, casting long, jagged shadows across the floor and pooling like ink in the corners. There was not one cloud in the sky. The light carried with it a weight that felt nearly suffocating, like hands covering the room, spreading until they'd choke the life out of everything they touched. You flew too close to the sun. Emilia let out a long sigh.

"I want to say I told her being single was better but… it'd be in bad faith; I'm obviously biased." She slowly outstretched her hand, expecting her phone back. I moved my arm—I tried moving my arm. It was heavy; the device felt like one of Maylene's heaviest dumbbells.

"Grace? Are you—""I'm okay," I forced out.

"Well, no. Not really, but I'll deal."

"You look really pale." I gulped and grimaced.

"I'm just…" this time, it truly felt as if I were melting in Emilia's chair.

"It had been a while. I thought they were going to go strong—I thought she'd be able to be happy. And if she can't do that, well, I—I—" Did I deserve— There was a soft prickle on my wrist, followed by one of Mimi's soothing vibrations. Reflexively, my hand found itself touching and feeling at the warm metal. How the tremors spread through the tip of my fingers, down the skin and bone, and then reached up to my shoulder. The rhythm was soothing.

"I'll be fine," I exhaled. I'd nearly been about to call Maylene for help—oh, I had to text her about the break-up, too. We were involved in Cecilia's troubles, the two of us, whether we liked it or not. My legs pushed me back toward my laptop, where a video of Marley's Crobat in action was paused. Poison was just about to gush out of the flying type's wings, as if had with each flap of his massive wingspan.

"Right now, I need to focus on this." The words rang hollow. I glanced at my phone next to the laptop.

"Right after I text my girlfriend." Surprisingly—or many might say unsurprisingly, Maylene had texted me about the news two minutes ago, asking if I needed to see her. The first urge that flared up within every nerve, every synapse, was to fire off a quick 'no,' using her work as an excuse to shield myself away from the world and to pretend it'd be a good exercise in independence. Urges were just that: urges, and Candice's words echoed in my head.

It was fine to depend on her, just as it was fine for her to rely on me. And by the way she texted, I could tell she wanted to see me too. There were no grammatical mistakes or shortenings. I told her we could meet when she was free in about an hour.

"Can you close the blackout curtains and turn on the lights?" I asked.

"The room feels too bright."

"Too bright?" Emi looked around.

"I mean, I don't see it, but sure." She moved to close the window, looked through it for a moment, and then drew the curtains together.

"Are you certain you can deal?"

"I gotta, anyway. Not like I can go and talk to her about it," I said. Legendaries, I wished I could so dearly—a heart-to-heart, this time, and not a shouting match.

"I gave away that privilege a long time ago, and I shouldn't have spoken to her in that item shop." My stomach rumbled, and I rubbed a hand over it to soothe the ache.

"Where's Pauline? I'm so hungry." Everything felt mildly uncomfortable. The weight of my hair brushing against my neck, the hollow sound of my nails tapping the keyboard, even the rhythm of my own blinking—it all grated on me. And the lights. Those relentless, artificial lights. They burned too bright, sharp enough to scorch the edges of my skin and dig deep, as if they could settle beneath the surface and fester.

The glare bounced off my laptop screen, piercing straight into my eyes, and I couldn't shake the desperate urge to crawl under a bed and never come out. I changed my mind and asked for Emilia to open the curtains again. The sun was indifference. A giant ball of plasma incredibly far away that skewered the world with light not out of malice or purpose but simply because that was its nature. The bulbs on the ceiling felt… too personal. A magnifying glass on my person meant to look at my sins.

Fortunately, Pauline returned with the food not long after, offering an apologetic smile as she set the bags down.

"Sorry for the wait," she said, brushing a stray strand of red hair behind her ear.

"There were a fuck ton of people out there. You'd think they'd get bored after spending so many days on here." She'd picked up a few neatly packaged meals, the kind that came with utensils tucked in the wrapping, and the faint aroma of roasted spices and something fried filled the room almost instantly. She took the news of Cecilia and Temperance breaking up… Not mockingly. That would be wrong of me to say, but she did not feel bad about either, and I could swear I heard her mutter 'told you so' under her breath.

It did not do much to assuage my worries—in fact, it mildly frustrated me, but I stayed silent and ate my food. Crispy breaded chicken with steaming white rice nearly smothered in some kind of sauce. Neither Pauline nor Emilia said much about the break-up other than a few theories about what could have happened, but it was clear that they didn't want to speak on this topic with me in the room.

The meeting with Maylene was soon approaching, so I gave them what they wanted and left the Pokemon Center, forgoing my armor, plastic sword, and helmet to go out in normal clothes. The last thing I wanted right now was to attract any attention. Usually, when I walked around the Lily in costume, people couldn't help but look at me. Some pointed and laughed, some just glanced, some asked for pictures, but they looked. I was radiant, giving light and shine of my own. I was in no mood for that this afternoon.

I considered myself decent with people. Not great, but decent. That was why I expected Temperance to be absolutely furious at me from our previous interaction at that Kalosian restaurant—or the lack of it. Maylene believed it to be a coincidence, but there was no way it wasn't linked in some way. Just no way. That could only mean that she was a woman of action and that an attack would be coming any time now—figuratively speaking. I deserved it. Of course, I deserved it. But I still couldn't help to theorize.

It wouldn't be a reveal that I was a cheater, given that this would hurt Cecilia as well, but… Gah. No use catastrophizing about something out of my control, even if that was easier said than done. We could have met anywhere but opted for the Gym House away from the crowds and prying eyes. I kept Buddy out during the half-jog there, wrapped tightly around my skin more for comfort than for protection at this point. The Jellicent was soft and had made himself warm like a blanket.

Every so often, his tendrils shifted, anchoring lightly against my shoulders or waist as if to remind me he was still there. The sensation used to be strange, somewhere between a hug and a second skin, but it was welcome. Really, it felt as if he were doing half of the walking, keeping me from tripping while running uphill or pushing me forward when I hesitated. Maylene was already waiting at the gate beyond the narrow road leading to the property, cross-armed and with a frown strewn across her pretty face.

Her hair looked like it had been ruffled recently, probably by Candice or Roark looking to cheer her up. Just seeing her made me feel ten times lighter; she could purge the tar around my heart and fuel it for what felt like a thousand years to come. Buddy slipped through my sleeve the moment my hands motioned to hug her.

"Maymay," I said with a satisfied sigh. I felt so safe in her arms.

"I—things feel like—my demons are finally catching up to me, and it's making me feel awful because this—this feels like I'm trying to make it about me and—" She gently grabbed my head and placed her forehead against mine. Her pink eyes could see right through me.

"I get it. I feel the same way." I could tell she was trying to keep her speech pattern steady to reassure me, but it ended up sounding mildly unnatural. Either way, it somehow worked.

"Wait. Your costume…?"

"Left it at Emi's," I mumbled.

"Didn't feel like getting people to look at me today."

"Oh…" her voice trailed off, fizzling off into the wind. She looked behind me, making sure I hadn't been trailed by some rabid gossiper. If I had, Buddy would have warned me. Maybe scared them off too.

"Wanna head inside, or…?"

"Sure." The tone I took reassured her for an unknown reason, but I could tell it did. Maybe it was the fact that I could still answer questions with a minimal amount of aplomb, or maybe it was something else, but Maylene gave me one of her reassuring smiles and held my hand until we were through the garden, patio, and inside the house. I shook my shoes off at the sliding glass door leading up to the living room. Buddy remained outside, vowing to chase away any wannabe paparazzi.

"The others are still out—I came here as fast I could and they told me they'd take over my work." Good. We were alone, away from so many eyes. Maylene trudged through the kitchen, opened the fridge, and leaned down to look inside.

"Want anything to drink? Nia bought, uh, grape juice earlier. We were out." I flopped head-first on the couches and groaned.

"I feel physically unwell," I spoke into the seat with a muffled, whiny voice.

"I don't even know how I'm going to battle today—and I still have Temperance to worry about, and I'm gonna have to deal with people being weird about it online and out on the street—I shouldn't even worry about that." What I was dealing with must have been so small compared to Cecilia's heartache.

"I shouldn't even worry about anything. I'm making it about myself." A lack of concern was unrealistic, maybe I was making this a bigger deal than it was?

"Plus, Pauline was being super weird about it. She's still hung up on their fight. It might cause tensions in the group—" Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. The couch sank slightly, and I felt Maylene's hand on my head. I allowed the silence to settle for a few moments, enjoying the safety her touch afforded me. Like a worm crawling through dirt, I crept toward the warmth of her skin and placed my head on her lap. As usual, she was wearing shorts; her skin was soft.

I clung to it like a lifeline, wrapping my hands around her stomach and holding on for dear life.

"Why are things so hard?" I sighed. Maylene's fingers traced the outside of my ear.

"Wish I had an answer."

"Sorry. I know this is hard for you too, but I haven't even… asked." I turned to face her, still resting on her lap, but finally releasing her from my latch. She'd placed a glass of cold juice on the table. As always when I caught her, tension spread across her legs, disappearing momentarily.

"I'm—" she made a little choked sound, then released a tight breath.

"Yeah. I was—thinking back when we were walking toward the restaurant." She laughed; it was a small and awkward chortle.

"I feel so awful for what we've done that it's slowly been eating me inside…" she rubbed her forehead and sighed before looking off into the distance, her eyes searching for something far away—somewhere I'd never be able to see.

"I keep telling myself that—you know, it'll pass eventually, but should it?"

"I knew there was something off about you back then." Maylene scratched the back of her neck.

"Yeah. You nearly caught me—it was kinda terrifying. I didn't want to say anything because I thought it was a little silly of me to want to make amends, especially when I'd just told you to back off."

"That's fair. Maybe we—""It's still a bad idea," Maylene meekly interrupted.

"You want to right now because you feel like you caused this… and we don't even know if we did." She tried. Really tried to sound sure of herself, but to no avail; Maylene was an open book, and she spelled regret and ire at herself for actions past. I rose slowly from her lap, placing my head against her shoulder. We were selfish, the two of us. We'd grasped onto the last threads of love, desperately holding ourselves up, but allowed Cecilia to fall in the process.

"I'm here, you know?" I said, the words unyielding. Her lips twitched into a smile.

"I know." Her face went a little red up to the ears.

"You, uh, doing better?" Leaning forward, I grabbed the juice off the table, enjoying the cold condensation that had wrapped itself on the glass.

"I feel like the last thing I want is to have so many eyes on me. I'm usually good at tuning out the crowd, but… I'm nervous."

"Are you still going to do your costume idea?" she asked. I took a sip.

"I don't know. I might message Melody and call it off. We can sell it as me wanting to be serious for such an important match—I only have a few hours to decide."

"Okay. Well!" Maylene clapped her hands.

"You studying right now wouldn't do much—let's get your mind off of things and watch a movie or something. No phones."

"Sure! But why no phones…?"

"You'll browse Chatter and get angry at people." I wanted to retort but came up empty.

"You know what, fair enough." — Maylene waved her girlfriend farewell, wishing they could have spent more time together despite the fact that they were practically glued at the hip these days, but Grace had nearly forgotten she'd promised to spend some time with her parents before her match. The blonde was... relatively fine. Surprisingly so, even, having built up her mental resilience over the last few months, but she still wasn't going to go battle in costume.

She watched her Jellicent slip under her clothes again as a second layer of skin, watched her fingers graze her Meltan around her wrist, watched until her head dipped below the hill, and then she turned back toward the house. Candice and Roark—who had come back while Grace and she had been hanging out—asked Maylene about her for a few minutes, but the Gym Leader didn't want to go too deep into Grace's troubles without her there. They knew the gist of it: the breakup had caused speculation to run amok online.

Candice especially had made herself busy fighting random people online with her endless burner accounts. She ran a trembling hand through her hair the moment she was back in their room. Such a stressful day. Grace had evidently forgotten to make the bed—again. The sheets were a tangled mess of navy and white, twisted up like a storm had passed through. A single pillow lay on the floor, half-covered by a discarded hoodie.

From there, you could trace her laptop charger from the floor all the way to the plug under their small desk. It was still plugged in from this morning— darn. Hopefully, she wouldn't run out of battery—no, if she did, Denzel had a million cables to lend her. It was easy to tell that Grace had probably gotten tired of studying at her desk in the morning and had laid down on this pillow instead. On said desk was her ideas notebook and an empty glass of juice. She needed to drink more water.

Maylene hadn't realized she'd been smiling.

"Dummy… what am I gonna do with you?" she lamented as she started cleaning up the room. Clothes returned to their drawers, the desk was cleared, the bed was made, and the window was opened to ventilate the room.

"Now what?" There was still a while until Grace's battle, and Maylene had endless options at her disposal. Hanging out with her fellow Gym Leaders or even some of Grace's friends to get to know them better, logging into the League's issues network to know if any department that ran the Conference needed help—the latest news she'd seen was from security having to detain some stupid kid who had tried stalking one of his idols after sending her creepy messages all Conference.

There was always at least one such incident during this month, with so many personalities concentrated on a single, tiny island. Maylene's Pokemon were spread around the League with only Machamp being in her Pokeball, so there was also the option of spending some time with her. The fighting type appeared with a flash of scarlet, easily towering over her trainer. She blinked for a few seconds, having been asleep to pass the time, then grinned and patted Maylene on the arm with two of her hands.

The impact was enough to make Maylene take a half-step back, though she didn't lose her balance.

"Easy there, Machamp," she said with a laugh, rubbing her arm where the massive Fighting-type's enthusiasm had landed.

"I might need that arm for a spar later." The fighting type apologetically caressed her arm with a single, coarse finger and croaked, complaining about something Medicham did yesterday—some kind of prank involving cotton candy.

"I'll scold her for you later," Maylene said.

"She always gets rowdy when we're out of the Gym!" The Gym Leader never thought she'd be capable of saying this a mere six months ago, but she missed her work. Whenever she fell asleep, most of what she thought about had to do with her Gym—how to raise its efficiency in all departments, new tactics to use on challengers, new strategies to keep her trainers and Pokemon motivated. Maylene's eyes drifted toward the window, where the late afternoon sunlight filtered through the blinds.

She stretched her arms over her head, feeling the slight ache in her muscles from the morning's workout. Summer was a well-needed break, but sitting idle didn't suit her; it never had. Thinking about her Gym made her check on a few of her contacts in Veilstone. Half the reason was to pass the time, and the other half was to check up on what her father was doing.

She'd half expected him to come here to embarrass and make things awkward for her as some sort of power move, but instead, Oscar had decided to stick in Veilstone to drum up support. Last she'd heard, he was working toward opening some kind of dojo—an unofficial 'Gym' in name only—where trainers would be able to battle him and get advice on how to raise their fighting types. This was legal, and fully within his rights. The practice was more common in Indigo, but Jubilife had a few unofficial Gyms.

Maylene could have harried him with lawyers, but she wanted nothing to do with him and he would win the case eventually. She wasn't even sure she'd be able to delay the construction because she'd basically have no standing. As innocent as he tried to frame this, it was fairly obvious to anyone with a brain that he was jockeying for influence within Veilstone. Maylene eventually wanted to get a mole within Oscar's circle, but for now… For now, just checking in would do.

— Like usual, the stadium was chock-full of spectators from every corner of the region, and Maylene figured they were even more excited than usual. Tie breakers like this were always electrifying to the public, especially when it was between two friends. The arena looked to be some sort of volcanic plateau with a dormant volcano at its center—though cracks sometimes formed and spewed hot air and flames through the gaps all throughout the battlefield.

Knowing Grace, she would have lamented it not being lava, but even at levels this high, the League wanted no accidents. To her right was Candice, and to her right was Volkner, who had decided that he would rather go and watch this battle than to do any work like the rest of the Gym Leaders. Cynthia was nice about off-time during the summer, but everyone still wanted to help her. They knew she was struggling. That was why Nia wasn't here.

Maylene tried closing her eyes to feel Grace's aura, but there were far too many people here for her senses to reach that far. Maybe Lucario would have been able to, but hers just got overwhelmed. There were nowhere near this amount of people at Craig's Ceremony.

"She's going to get here when she gets here," Candice yelled in her ear.

"No need to crane your neck like a Farigiraf!"

"I'll have you know my neck is normal-sized!" Maylene tried to answer, but she had to literally lean right next to Candice's ear for her to hear. Volkner looked miserable, cradling his head and possibly regretting his choice. Maylene would have teased him had he not looked like he was about to die. She checked her phone—eleven minutes left until show time. Friends in Grace's group chat were sending last-minute good luck messages just in case she was looking at her phone, so Maylene opted to do the same.

Knowing her, she was so focused that she wouldn't even be looking at her Poketch, though— A tap on her shoulder. Maylene turned to look at Candice, who was still observing all around the stadium like a little kid. She thought it must have been a prank, but she noticed a paper note on her lap, neatly folded. With a frown, she opened it to read. Meet me in restroom C close to that souvenir shop with the awful Garchomp plushies and the aloof Cynthia figurines alone. We have a lot to talk about. - Temperance.

Maylene read it again. And again. This couldn't be real. But it was. Maylene quickly scrunched the paper, shoved it into her pocket, and gripped the side of her chair until she remembered she might crush the armrests. What did she want—no, it was obvious what she wanted. Should Maylene even entertain her? Getting involved in this spelled trouble, but what if she spoke to Grace when she was out? What if she'd already spoken to Grace—no, there was no way.

That made no sense; they separated right when she'd walked to the waiting room. Her first worry was sound, however. Every time she blinked, nightmarish visions of Grace broken and sobbing at Temperance's feet flashed in her mind. It could be a trap of some kind, but… Fine. There was no way out of this.

"I'm going to the bathroom." Maylene was too out of it to wait to see if Candice or Volkner had heard. She shimmied her way out of the bleachers, and down into the stadium's guts. Down here, where the halls were wide and empty save for the occasional straggler trying to rush to their seat, she could sense individuals. She followed Temperance's flame to the designated bathroom, having nearly caught up to her by the time they were there due to how fast she'd been walking. The door was closing when Maylene made it.

The Gym Leader slapped her cheeks to shake herself out of this haze. She needed to focus. Maylene pushed the door open and entered the coordinator's lair. She had felt Temperance, but it was only now that Maylene got a look at what she was wearing. All black, akin to a widow mourning her husband or wife at a funeral. Even her hair was as dark as the night sky.

The fabric of her dress was smooth and satiny, draping her form with an elegance that seemed frankly out of place in the public restrooms—and even then, Maylene was the one who felt underdressed in her t-shirt and shorts. Everything was so quiet you could hear one of the faucets leaking against the sink accompanied by the occasional muffled cheer from the battlefield, audible even from this far. Maylene bit her lip, not knowing what to say. Wasn't it up to Temperance to speak given she had asked her here?

The Gym Leader was starting to regret following her. Maybe she should leave; it wasn't as if Temperance could actually stop her. Yes, she'd gotten in over her head. Enough of this!

"I'm leav—" Temperance cut her off.

"I considered whether to do this endlessly the last few days." Her inflection was a tired one, worn down by what could have been screaming, crying, or both.

"Cece would probably hate that I'm doing this; she said not to talk or do anything to Grace—oh, poor, innocent Grace." Her tone dripped with irony as she glared at Maylene.

"But she said nothing about you."

"I don't think this is a great idea—" She interrupted her again, taking a step forward.

"But you followed me here because you're curious, aren't you?" she hissed through her teeth, each word popping with frustration. Temperance paused, taking a breath that seemed to calm her. She nearly stumbled, leaning against one of the sinks, and muttered something under her breath.

"Listen, Leader Maylene. I'm not going to… berate you. I'm going to try not to yell at you. I just tire of imagining the two of you going about your happy little lives as if nothing happened. As if you didn't ruin a girl's confidence, self-esteem, and trust because you couldn't be bothered to wait a few weeks before you kissed. You knew her. You knew her, went through hell together, she helped you with your Gym, and you stabbed her in the back." Oh.

Oh, she knew so much more than what Maylene thought she would have; the knowledge the coordinator brought to the table was enough to make her skin crawl. It was so shameful that she could not help but lower her head and stare at her feet. Temperance must have had the wrong idea about them from the time she'd seen them at the restaurant.

"It's not a good thing we did," Maylene acknowledged.

"I won't defend it. Grace was in a terrible state of mind, but—I could have helped her without going so far."

"Hm. I expected such sanctimonious behavior; none of it matters. I'm just here to tell you what your actions have caused because I know that you are… a 'decent' person," she wrinkled her nose, "in theory. You're free to leave, but—""I'll stay." Maylene clenched a fist, feet firm against the ground. She'd nearly slipped and panicked, but better she listen to this than Grace; the Gym Leader would tell her in a way her girlfriend could better digest as soon as her battle was over, win or lose.

Grace Pastel was many things, but she even now after her improvements, she could still be fragile like glass. Maylene knew herself to be mentally strong enough to take this. And she did not trust Temperance not to tell Grace anyway should she not get what she wanted here. The coordinator scoffed.

"Very well." Then, she started to talk with eloquence Maylene had rarely seen. It was slow at first, a story of a girl who did not know how to interact with people because she had never learned, yet had caught her eye one night in Hearthome. As Maylene listened, she could hear the passion in Temperance's voice whenever she spoke of Cecilia—still affectionately using her nickname.

But intertwined with that passion was a lingering grief, palpable in the way Temperance's breath hitched ever so slightly at the end of each sentence as if each one carried the weight of realizing she would never get that love from her ever again. Temperance spoke of cracks forming under the surface of their relationship; those cracks, she could not spot, because she too had never been serious about someone, and Cecilia did well to hide her pain in secret.

Maylene got the entire, summarized story until they broke up.

"I share some of the blame," Temperance said.

"I did not know what was hiding below the hull, could not see the fractures forming until it was too late. I was too caught up in the surface—too enamored by the image of us and our apparent progress to realize that we'd begun to take in water." She once again leaned against the sinks for support with a tired look in her eyes.

"But you," she exhaled until her lungs were empty.

"You two damaged her in such insidious ways that she… she…" Temperance paused.

"She looked like she'd just seen the end of the world when she finally understood." Maylene sniffled. She'd teared up—not a surprise for her. She tried to speak, but did not know what to say. Her lips quivered when she opened her mouth and felt so alien that she nearly forgot how to move them. It was just as Grace thought, and just as Maylene had feared. She'd brought up that her father had never found someone else earlier today—more than a decade after the incident.

"I must admit." Temperance wiped a tear of her own with a finger.

"Though it is fairly obvious, I came here for selfish reasons. Cecilia is so harsh on herself, but she wants to move on rather than get bogged down in the trenches here with us." The coordinator laughed tearfully and grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser to wipe the corner of her eyes.

"She thinks I'm a good person, can you believe it? The fool." She turned to throw the tissue in the trash, slamming her foot down on the pedal.

"I came here to see you weep. And maybe tomorrow, or in a few days, or in a few weeks, I'll regret it. But right now?" She trudged past Maylene but stopped when they were level.

"It feels like there's a little justice in this world." The bathroom door opened, and Temperance left amidst another round of cheers. Grace's battle had started already—how would she even tell her after it ended? Fuck. She needed a minute.