1.3 | the art of cupidity ✓

05 | luna

TWO AND A HALF WEEK PASS BY, AND SORA DOESN'T SEE ANY SIGN OF RYLIN CARTER—NOT AT CAMPUS, NOT AT THE DINER, AND STRANGELY NOT AT THE ICE RINK (SHE HASN'T BEEN ABLE TO GO AT ALL DUE TO THE AMOUNT OF STRESS SHE'S BEEN UNDER). It's a double-edged sword, and one that's carefully polished to cause her enough pain when she realizes that something's missing in her life; she tells herself that it's not his air-conditioned car, although it's definitely an added bonus.

To distract herself, Sora instead opens her business back up and accepts an application from poor Steven Wong who's terribly in love with a shy art major named Eliza Sanwal and doesn't know how he should approach her. So Sora pushes back all her personal issues and promises herself that this matchmaking will surely be successful, because Steven seems like a sweetheart and Eliza is nothing short of an angel, so all she really needs to do is drop a few hints and be on her merry way.

She can tell that Adeena keeps worrying about her non-existent sleep schedule, but it's truly fine—Sora has trouble sleeping, anyways, and the lack of time spent in her dorm room always consists of feeling a pang of nostalgia for Rylin Carter and his tempting laugh. She's never missed anyone like this before, and maybe it's just like ripping off a bandaid where if she sees him again, the itch will be satisfied and she'll be able to go back to normal. His sweats and shirt still lie in her closet, and it smells like him—smells like sugared milk and smoke and danger—and Sora's tempted to just breathe in the fabric just so the memories can float back to her.

Sora Lee. Ice Queen. Pretty girl. Baby.

I hate when he calls me that, she thinks as she waits outside the art studio for Eliza Sanwal to show up. And then: No, I don't. I don't hate him, either. Ah, fuck you, Sora—fuck your feelings.

California is unusually hot for the beginning of February, but Sora feels a bit more fashionable today as she walks around in her glossy, black boots and oversized boyfriend jeans while spotting her target stumble out of the door with an enormous canvas in her hand. The painting is slipping quite a bit, and Sora secretly smiles as she comes to the girl's rescue.

"Hey," Sora greets, composure softening just a bit. "Need help with that?"

Eliza sighs out of relief, wipes her brow, and nods gratefully, saying, "Thank you so much. My car's just around the corner."

When they walk, Sora catches a glimpse of the piece, and it's enough to stun her into an awe-filled silence. The acrylic glints in the sunlight, and a scene of Europe unfolds in electrifying colors of azure, crimson, and ivory creams; the ocean lies as a glistening background, and it's—

"It's beautiful," Sora expressed honestly. "Your painting, I mean—you're so talented."

Eliza blushes and laughs. "It's still in the beginning stages, but that means a lot."

How in the hell is it not finished? But Sora lacks an eye regarding fine art, so she's not surprised when Eliza comments on her statement; it seems that things that require a long period of attention and effort immediately lose value to Sora, and if things can't be fixed, then there's no point of staying. After some time, the two girls comfortably fall back into their high-school friendship, and poor Steven Wong is forgotten (she'll have to refund him) along with Sora's matchmaking business. She'll accept another application tomorrow, it seems, to make up for the cash. And so Sora tells Eliza of her situation and squeezes her fingers together behind her back once she hears what she has to say, even if it's not exactly what she wants.

Sora sighs. "And say that in this hypothetical world, the girl got drunk and he had to take him back to his own apartment and clean her up, and—shut up, Eliza, nothing happened."