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"Am I happy, Miss Stegalia?"
It’s a dumb question. Of course I’m happy, I was just injected with my regular Class-E & A cocktail and it's making my entire body feel warm - my anxiety quickly vanishing. My brain is releasing massive amounts of dopamine; of course I’m happy. Neurochemically speaking. I smile, soft and sedately.
"Of course you are sweetie. Are the drugs not working?" She says, her chords betraying worry as she turns away from the frying pan to look at me. I shake my head; she looks a little worried too. Hopefully I don't worry her too much, I…
I don’t deserve her, or any of this; although I didn't really get a choice in the matter, did I? That wellness check had gone poorly for me. For good reason. I was too much of a shut-in and I was self-destructing. My arms still hurt and there were even more lasting marks on them than before. But that self-destruction was my choice to make; even if it was dumb, it was mine. And now here I am, hers, and I don't deserve to be. She should be with any other floret or any other sophont who would deserve it more than I do. Fuck Dirt, why am I like this? Why is she like this, having to be so kind and-
Gosh her eyes are so pretty. That deep amber yellow. I could stare at them forever - and the rest of her is… similarly mesmerizing. Gosh she’s so tall, easily more than twice my height, yet still shorter and slimmer than most Affini. I’m not sure if it’s due to her natural size - if Affini have one - or the humanoid form she chose, but it doesn’t make her any less intimidating when she wants to be. The difference makes my heart spin.
Her vine-like “skin” is dark green, intricately woven together in layers to come to form. Darker, blackish moss-covered bark stretches from her shoulders and across her upper body, glowing faintly with tiny sparkles like stunning stars in the night. They twinkle in pattern with her biorhythm so beautifully, my gosh…
It runs down her arms and legs too, forming these cute, glowing floral patterns with little flowers emerging from the center. They’re very nice to lay against, despite the bark. Her hair is this lighter green comprised of very fine vines that really contrast against her darker structure, bearing these small amber flowers and leaves scattered throughout. They look just like autumn leaves back on Earth.
Part of me thinks she has these because she knows how much I loved the fall… She's nice like that. She also has these two slim antennae that curve out from her head, topped by these pink, glowing mossy flowers at the tips. She's just so pretty. So pretty it almost feels like I’ve been staring forever. These xenodrugs are nice too, just like her - and I guess they’re really starting to work. My entire body heating up like a little radiator. It’s comfy and so warm. I really want to lay my head against her.
"Flower?"
Oh, I must have lost focus there. The drugs, yeah. I didn't even notice she’d stopped cooking and "walked" herself over to me. As much as you can call an Affini unraveling her form and re-knitting it in front of you “walking.”
"Sorry, Miss Stegalia, I got distracted," I giggle, feeling extremely flushed now. Not to mention fluttery - which is a pretty new sensation at this intensity. "No Ma'am; the drugs are working. But, do you think I’m truly, actually happy, Miss?"
"Well, you certainly aren't trying to hurt yourself anymore, and you aren't shutting yourself off from everyone. I’d call that a resounding step in the most delightful direction for a little flower, like yourself"
Hmm, I guess she has a point. I didn't feel this warm during all of that. But I also didn't feel the immense guilt, either. I don’t deserve to feel good. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that, I didn't kn-"
"My precious flower,” she cooed, “it's okay. I can certainly see that the drugs are working. You have been spacing out - and looking quite adorable holding onto my vine whilst doing it."
Damn, dirt, I didn't even notice I was holding onto her. Must have happened when she came over here. How long have I- oh, the pancakes are done cooking now. Has she been cooking this entire time? Watching over me while I tried to think? She's so capable that it's scary. Well not as scary as it used to-
"Flower? What’s worrying you so much that you're holding onto me so tightly again? Are you okay? Do you need more xenodrugs, little one?” Her vine touched the usual injection spot. “If I wasn't so concerned I'd even say it was cute how much your musing correlates with how hard you squeeze that loving vine of mine."
I loosen my grip. There’s a plate of pancakes in front of me now - and I love pancakes. They smell really good, and I know they'll taste amazing. She always makes them perfectly. Is all of this just for me? I swear this warmth inside me must be mirroring the heat coming off these pancakes. Are pancakes happy? Wait, no, back on track. The conversation. Right, okay. Yes..
"I'm sorry, Miss. I… I understand that the drugs make me happy, chemically of course, as you've explained to me before. They’re just making it hard to think, Miss Stegalia. Please don’t worry, but I still feel…"
What do I feel? Stars. Fuck. Dirt, it’s hard to tell. I already know my mind is a mess; Miss Stegalia has been very clear about that. But I feel very warm, and I don’t think I want to. Not that it doesn’t feel good - because, stars, the Affini are good at making things feel amazing. But it’s a hollow good for me. It’s not real, and I shouldn’t be allowed to feel this good-
"Go onnnnn, little one. And don’t worry; you can take your time. I know thinking must be reeeeeally hard for you right now, and there’s no shame in that~"
Fuck. Dirt. Was it always this hard to think? No, it wasn’t. I know this already. Why am I surprised? Why do I always feel so philosophical after I get hopped up on some concoction? Why does this always happen when I’m on my happy drugs? It’s so unfair. If I didn’t already get a fully detailed report on just how fucked my psyche is, I’d be surprised at how paradoxical all this seems.
"I physically feel fucking... frosting amazing. Mentally... warm, comfy even. I want to drift off in your arms. I feel so safe with you around… and I’m sorry." I look away from her, down toward my legs. They’re swaying a lot while I’m sitting here, and it’s unfair how pretty and kind she is, and that I’m hers.
"So what’s bothering you? Is my cherished flower thinking so much that she let her pancakes go cold? What’s got you looking so down and dejected, little one?"
Holy fuck. Dirt… is it taking me that long to think of sentences? Is my internal monologue slow as well? It doesn’t feel slow, but I guess it doesn’t matter since I can’t fix it. Oh, and she’s put my pancakes away already, and I’m in her arms now. When did that happen? I don’t even remember getting lifted up. Oh. Why is she cradling me? It’s nice; that’s why she’s doing it. I’m in her arms because she’s worried. Dirt, it’s all my fault. It always is. But with these drugs, and the humming of her body, and this warmth, I don’t want it to stop. I just want it to feel full. I just want to be happy. Why aren’t I happy?
"Flower?" She’s concerned; I made her worry. "Here, just follow my humming. It won’t take you out of your little world; it should just give you something to center yourself. Help your little brain think better."
Oh wow! Okay, yeah, that’s better. My thoughts are clearer now. Not sure about easier — still feels like shit, but it’s definitely clearer. At least the rumbling that’s a part of her is now a part of me, too. It’s like my thoughts are moving in pace with her rhythm. Why are they allowed to do this? It’s so unfair! At least I can probably speak more clearly now.
"Thank you, Miss Stegalia... I... I feel happy. I feel amazing physically, and I know the drugs are helping that... but why does it still hurt? Why doesn’t it feel real? My independence used to matter so much to me. I did so much to preserve it... So many shitty, dirty things, Miss Stegalia. Not just to myself. To you. To others. I- I’m a traitor. I- I mean, I know the Terran Accord lied to me, to all of us, abused us, but... why do I get to be with you? Other people actually resisted the Accord, but I didn’t. And despite all the bad things I’ve done, despite hurting so many people and losing my independence, despite not feeling like I deserve it, and despite being a broken and destructive person, I am happy.
" I still have you, and it hurts so much. I feel happy, but it feels hollow. Everything is so messy in my head. I feel fine, but it feels off; it doesn’t make sense. I’m happy, Ma’am, but it hurts. Miss Stegalia, my entire life was built upon the idea that good people deserve to be happy. But I’m not... and you tell me that florets are happy because they deserve to be, but I don’t. The Affini have taught us that all sophonts deserve happiness, but what happens if I feel like I don’t? I resisted every step you took to help me. Y- you do everything for me: keep me calm, keep me safe, even scan my brain to help me work through my issues because I can’t even do it myself. If you didn’t save me… I mean, you saw what I did to myself. They had to call a wellness check to get me to stop. I’m incapable of leaving myself be. I can’t even let myself be happy... and I’m not sure if I even know what happiness is. I- I don’t think I was ever happy before. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to be happy. I don’t want to be happy. What did I do to deserve this?"
Oh. I’m crying. When did that happen? I’ve been crying and rambling, and she’s just been letting me hug her - holding me tightly, petting me, letting me pour my meager, burdened mind out while actively guiding my thoughts so I can think properly. I’m so incapable. I don’t deserve this. I never will. I am happy. I deserve to be happy. It’s okay to ask for help. Ah! Even in my own thoughts, she’s looking after me. I’m not even capable of having a sad, troubled internal monologue without her intervening in my own thoughts. So I don’t hurt myself. So I don’t spiral beyond repair. How did it all come to this?
"You were yourself to the best of your ability, despite the circumstances of your culture and society, Flower. And that will always be enough. There is nothing else you’ll ever need to be than yourself."
Stars, she’s so selfless; all of them are. They just want to elevate us to be the best we can be. Why couldn’t we do that for ourselves? Why did we fail on such a systemic level? It wasn’t just the Terran Accord. Our entire history has been broken people running broken systems that produced more broken people to run even more broken systems. We’ve never been okay. I don’t think we could have ever achieved what they have. Fuck, Dirt, we were so selfish. So shortsighted. So evil. So insignificant. No, not all of us, though. Some of us were actually good. A few resisted the Terran Accord without becoming violent towards the Affini. I was just part of the significant offenders. The undeserving ones.
"Flower, you aren’t some monster - not remotely, and I will not tolerate you thinking such thoughts." Ah, she’s in my head again. I can’t even be self-loathing in my own head with her around. Everything, every day, reminds me of my dysfunction. I just… I just want to be happy, and I don’t know how to leave myself alone. It’s so pathetic.
"Yes, Miss," I whispered, still crying. I find myself moving past her moss and bark-covered exterior, past her intricately woven pseudo-skin chest that’s unraveled to make room for me. Oh, her core. Yeah, I must be spiraling worse than I thought, but I already knew that. Still, I guess the drugs prevent full-on existential dread from ever really setting in. It’s soft. I always liked holding onto her core while the rumbling hums and tones of her biorhythm envelop me. It’s one of the few times in my life I’ve felt whole. Like I’m part of something that matters, something that is wholly good and devoid of doubt. It’s very nice. I love her, and I am hers. For better or for worse.
"Oh, my little flower. My oh-so-delicate and precious little flower. Do you know why I call you that? It’s because I wish to see you grow, to bloom into something beautiful and unique. Something that draws others in, something they just can’t help but appreciate and admire. You have that potential, little seed. I know you do. You just have to let yourself unfurl, shed those terrible chains," she cooed.
Her entire core hums in tune as she speaks. She’s right; I know she is. She’s always right about me and has been since she first laid eyes on me. And yet, I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I can live up to what she sees in me. But I have to. She’s never been wrong before. I need to try.
"Miss Stegalia, am I allowed to be happy?" I ask, choking through my sobs, clutching her core, rubbing my runny nose on it. I hope she doesn’t mind. If this hab weren’t soundproof, I’d be mortified about seeing our neighbors in future.
"Yes, little one, you are. Flower, you’ve been happy for a while. You’ve just been struggling with learning how to accept it," she rumbled through her core, her biorhythm taking the place of her voice.
Yeah, that makes sense, I guess. I am happy. I already knew that the xenodrugs are causing my body to produce a ridiculous amount of dopamine right now. Neurochemically, I am happy. But that’s not what I meant. I’ve been feeling guilty because I know I’ve been happy, and I didn’t want to be. It was a dumb question from the start. She must be right, she always is. She’s seen me at my worst, whether in the real or through my memories. She knows me better than anyone, probably better than I know myself. And, stars, she has enough experience to outdo me ten times over.
I love her so much. She’s right. I need to let myself be happy. If not for my sake, then for hers. To repay her. If anyone can make a judgment call in this universe and decide if I deserve to be happy, it’s her.
"Petal… I’m happy you’re starting to accept that you’re allowed to feel happy, but I want you to know even if you weren’t mine, I would still believe you deserve happiness. You did what you thought was right, and that’s all you ever need to be, okay, little one? Think about how far you’ve come, not just emotionally and mentally, but physically too, with your Class G’s. A whole fresh you, distanced from that bothersome past."
Oh, she’s right. Once more and forevermore, she always is. I guess I’ve always known it deep down, and I think she knows it too - which is why she’s been easing me through this meltdown so smoothly. This isn’t something that will be fixed in a day, but this can be a steady, memorable beginning. I’ve needed to face this guilt for a while now. I can’t keep running from it.
And I don’t want to run from her anymore. I don’t want to keep denying myself. It’s so exhausting, and I’m so warm and comfortable here, hugging her core and crying. This is nice. I wonder if things could always be like this. I’d like that... maybe with a little less crying, though.
"Thank you, Miss Stegalia. I keep forgetting you can hear my thoughts, but you’re right. I’m sorry for spiraling. I think I’m better now... or at least, as much as I can be. Can I keep cuddling your core? Pl… please? It’s really soft and nice, and I’m… I’m worn out… and happy. I’m happy."
"Oh, that’s wonderful to hear, little one. Of course, after a big, tough 'thinksies' session like that, I think you deserve a nap. You were so brave, facing your thoughts and working through them."
"Thank you, Miss," I sniffle and let out a yawn. “But ya… you did most of the work.”
"Maybe, my little flower, and I’ll always be here to help you through it, as often as you need. Now, why don’t you get some rest?"
Oh, yeah. I guess I’ve been crying for a while, but I don’t feel bad about it anymore. Actually, it feels good to let it all out. I haven’t done that in a very long time… maybe ever. Back when the Accord was around, there wasn’t really time for things like this. I’ll probably tumble down the trauma stairwell again, but things are different now. Miss Stegalia will always be here to put me back together and help me through it.
"Okay, Miss Stegalia, you're right. I’m exhausted, and it’s so comfy here…" I can’t help but let out another wide, sleepily exclamation.
I don’t even need Miss Stegalia’s Class-Z to fall asleep. Her humming is enough to lull me, shifting into a low, calming rumble that washes over every inch of tmy body. My eyes are already getting heavy, my body curling around her warm core. I feel safe. I am comfortable. I am hers.
Hers, forevermore.
And I am happy.