short story i wrote in 2024 featuring some OCs i have, i am still not a very good writer but i wanted to put this somewhere for now as a secret. might add art later. last edited 1/21/26
leave
“I’m like your drink, dear Monica,” You couldn’t hold this back anymore. It was too good.
“Huh?” She put on an obviously forced nervous smile, “What do you mean, Maple?”
“I help you talk smoother, help you get actual friends.”
“Ah, yes, connecting with you has helped me understand others and uh, myself I guess. It’s like therapy in a way.”
Oh, how funny! She has no clue, “No, no sweetheart,” You hear yourself laughing, “Have you not realized yet?” Her cheeks turn red, she probably thought you were making fun of her for not knowing something, but truly you were trying to ease her in.
“I uh…” Monica said sheepishly, “No. I’m not really sure what you’re referring to.”
“I went ahead and talked to Lilac.”
“Huh? What are you talking about? You can’t…”
You interrupt the silly notion she was about to make, “Monica, sweetheart, I figured out a way for me to live and see through you. Why do you think you’ve been taking longer naps?” You prepared for the worst, and seeing her face and eyes hollow out within seconds caused a weird feeling inside you. You shouldn’t be able to feel like this. She stayed like that for a bit.. You’d never admit it, but you do actually care for Monica, even if she stupidly gets herself involved with that copycat, “It’s really not a big deal, I’ve just been trying to help you.” That was a half lie, you were trying to help build her relationship with Lilac, but you might’ve gone a bit too far with the Ruta stuff…
She sat very still, except for her right hand petting her army green winter coat. You didn’t mind waiting for a response, what the fuck else was there to do?
“Maple,” she was so quiet, “Is that why Ruta came around while I wasn’t home, lied to the doorman about living here to get in, and ended up being escorted out? Now she won’t even respond to my texts!” Shit. You forgot about that. Ruta might’ve texted while you were ‘live’, and you maybe responded with telling her some uhm, less than savory things.
“Maybe, what about it?” You weren’t going to let her get the upper-hand on you, “We both know she’s a horrible person, Monica, she’s just using you to have the fantasy of-“
“Please, Maple, I know she isn’t,” Monica grips her coat tightly, as if she’s clinging to the thought of Ruta.
“You defended your mom the exact same way, who do you think you’re fooling here? She’s just fucking like her! A user!” You didn’t realize it, but you were screaming now. Monica can’t look at you, she’s staring at the ground with tears pricking the corners of her eyes. She trembled slightly, her defense mode.
“Oh please, you can’t pull the scared puppy shit on me right now, I’m trying to make our… make your life better!” Stop. Stop talking, she’s going to push you out, “I just… Please, I care about you. I thought by doing that it would help your situation, socially.” For a moment, she seemed to think about your words, but went right back to slowly hyperventilating.
“Listen, I won’t take over again unless you give me permission, I swe-“
“How many times have you done it?”
“Huh?”
“Maple, please just answer.”
She got you there, you didn’t know she had it in her. You blame Ruta for this.
“5 times, I didn’t do anything brash!” You lie. A pit takes root inside.
Monica looks defeated, she knows you lied, “You drove away Ruta…”
“She doesn't deserve you!”
This is the one thing you’ll never agree on with her. Ruta is a sick minded fuck, a fake, a copy. You were here first.
“Please, I don’t get why you hate her so much, you never tell me anything.” She always pleads to know more. You're not going to give in, not ever again.
“Monica, how can you not see she’s using you! You’re her fucking play-thing, and I get you've been lonely since Willow, but Ruta is NOT going to be any better.” You feel exasperated, like you’re struggling to get a word out, “For fuuuucks sake, she’s cheating on her boyfriend with YOU! Of course she’s fucked up!” Your voice warbles. Monica looks up, her widened brown eyes bore into you, there’s panic sitting behind them.
“You don’t even look… what happened to you?”
And suddenly you noticed, your height had changed. Long viney tendrils where your roots should be extruded below you, they’re squirming. One of the tendrils shoots forward, grabbing Monica by the leg and lifting her in front of you. Her eyes show the reflection of everything you’ve become, and it’s not pretty. You can’t take this.
“Get out! Please just let me go! I can’t do this anymore!” Both of you are speaking now. You feel air on your back.
Suddenly the world snaps away in a second, and within that same second another appears.
You are laid on the ground in a dirt pile, pieces of a shattered pot that once contained you are spilled across sidewalk pavement. Your branches sway in the breeze passing through, showing off colorful maple leaves.