When Theora arrived at the hospital, Dema was asleep.

She lay in a bed by the window, in a two-person room, with the other bed being unoccupied. Tubes plugged into her body pumped her blood through a machine with circling buttons while an IV led a clear liquid into her wrist.

Not wanting to disturb her sleep, Theora sat down as quietly as she could on the closest chair, and lay a hand on Dema’s free wrist.

Dema was sleeping in a messy position; her pillow had somehow found its way to the ground, the blanket was leaving one of her thin legs exposed, and her mouth was half-open as she breathed gentle snores.

Two hours earlier, during a brigade operation, Theora had received a message: ‘They told me I gotta stay at the hospital a bit longer today. Drop by if you wanna!’ — together with erroneous information on where to find her, which had led to Theora’s late arrival.

They should have been on the way to the festival now. Their initial plan had been to set off right after Theora was done with work, which got delayed due to the fire brigade calling in. Then she’d received Dema’s messages.

Theora sent a few texts back and forth with Serim, and they decided that Serim and Invent One would set off now as planned.

Serim: And you take care of Dee and if things go well we’ll see you tomorrow? First day is all for set-up anyway, we can do that for you. Are your things packed? We can take your tents and all.

Theora nodded, and needed a while to realise that would not translate to Serim, so she wrote a short affirmation. Dema would have probably been unhappy about missing the festival, so this seemed like a good option. Some of the stress let off.

The reception hadn’t told Theora much concerning the many whys in her head.

So, she just sat there for a while; maybe ten minutes, until her phone buzzed again. She pulled it out from the pocket of her blazer and blinked in confusion upon finding a message from Dema. A message she had only just received. Theora checked with a furtive and pointless glance to see if Dema was still lying there asleep — she was, and their hands were even still entangled.

The message read: You can wake me up if you wanna!

At first, Theora did no such thing, instead just staring at the screen all bewildered. Was this magic? Was Dema being impossible again?

Then, she recognised a small icon next to the timestamp, and when she pressed a fingertip against it, an information box told her the message was ‘scheduled’.

How cheeky. She squeezed Dema’s hand, and when that didn’t wake her up, she grazed her forehead with a kiss. If that didn’t work, Theora might have to break the spell of this silent hospital room with her words; something she didn’t quite feel ready for yet.

But it did work. Dema let out a little tired hum, shifted around in the blankets, turned, and opened her eyes to gaze up at Theora, breaking into a little smile immediately. “You woke me up! Got my messages, huh?”

“Messages?” Theora asked, and then her phone buzzed again with another scheduled text saying, ‘No need to be shy! Kiss me up!’

Theora immediately felt heat rise to her face and leaned back in her chair, taking her other hand out of Dema’s. “Oh, gosh,” she whispered in horror. “What have I done.”

Dema giggled, fetching Theora’s hand back with a hint of greed, and buried it against her chest. “No running away from me,” she murmured, still a bit sleep-drunk.

“I’m not running anywhere,” Theora promised, still whispering. “Are you feeling alright?”

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“Yeah,” Dema rasped. “All good. Just gotta stay a night or so. I’m dizzy.”

Theora’s stomach contracted and a horrifying question left her lips before she could stop the words. “You won’t leave me either, will you?”

Dema gave an indulgent grin, and booped Theora on the nose. “That’s gonna be up to you, love.”

Theora shuddered. Her hand was still squeezed against Dema’s chest, and she resisted the urge to pull it back. No running away.

Dema kept dozing for a while, not quite away, but not submitting to full sleep either. Eventually, she pulled Theora into bed with her. They lay next to the open window not unlike they often did at home; except the windows at the hospitals could only be slanted. Soft rain was falling outside with a cool breeze coming in.

“That song’s so cool,” Dema murmured. They were sharing a pair of earbuds and listening to music together. “Can’t wait to hear them in person at the festival. That was the first song they ever made, right?”

Theora already couldn’t remember, and regrettably, she still had trouble recognising songs after hearing them only one single time. To make up for it, Dema kept putting it back on.

Theora leaned her head against Dema’s. “It will be my first time hearing people actually play on stage.”

Dema nodded. “Me too.”

“You never did before?”

“Nah,” Dema murmured. “Just watched some online. But now you can carry me around when I get weak.”

“Is that related to why you’re here? Your message made it sound like it’s not that rare.”

“Oh, yeah,” Dema said. “I gotta come here like three times a week. Usually doesn’t take long so I do it while you’re at work.”

“Do they know what’s wrong with you?”

Dema smiled, showing off the needle in her wrist. “My blood’s what’s wrong with me. And I guess my bones too.”

“Your blood and your bones?”

Dema nodded. “Bones produce the blood, right? It’s funny because if you think about it, bones are kind of like stones. But then you have the saying, to ‘squeeze blood from a stone’ which, like, ’not supposed to work… but our bodies can squeeze blood from bones!” With a smile she lifted her hand toward the ceiling. “I’ve always thought that we’re made of rock and blood in that way. Rock is something that lasts forever, and blood can give it life. Kinda ironic that those are exactly the things that are wrong with me here.”

Here, Theora repeated in thought.

“It’s actually so wrong,” Dema continued, “that they thought I was gonna kick the bucket and put me in a hospice. Took them a year to figure out I wasn’t gonna go so soon, so I was kicked back out.”

Theora blinked. “The hospice? The local one? I used to work there as a… well, not a nurse, really, but a helper.”

Dema suddenly sat up, and seemed to fight off a bout of dizziness before saying, “Wait, really? When?”

Theora looked at the ceiling, trying to remember. “Up until I moved on to working at the cemeteries. Like, three years ago?”

Dema let out a long groan, falling back into the cushion. “We just missed each other. Can’t believe it. It’s ’cause you weren’t wearing it!” She pulled their interlocking hands from beneath the blanket, where the bracelets on their wrists were grazing each other. “I told you they were dream proof, but you gotta keep them on.”

“I know,” Theora groaned back. “There’s that box from my childhood, right?” Dema had excitedly asked her to go through it a few days earlier, after finding it hidden under old clothes in the entry room. “I didn’t want to go near it because it made me feel weird. Likely because it kept reminding me of that past.”

“And remembering that past is dangerous,” Dema added, nodding. “Right, you said that.”

Theora squeezed her hands. “I should have been wearing it, though. Sorry I didn’t.”

Dema shrugged. “It’s actually a shame because that box has this amazing big coat with endless pockets in it. I put it into our luggage for the festival because I wanted to wear it.”

Theora shook her head, laughing. “It must be way too big for you. You’ll stand out.”

Dema raised her eyebrows. “Gotta make sacrifices, cause I’m gonna need it for my festival scheme.”

Oh, right. There was that. Theora furtively glanced at Dema’s glowing eyes.

“Will you give me your letter there?”

“Nah,” Dema said, shuffling deeper into the pillow. “That’s for later. But I’m gonna show you something else. Cause I wanna prove you wrong.”

“Prove me wrong about what?”

A devious smile. “Our future.”