"Okay…" I murmured, hanging up the phone.
The train hummed quietly beneath me as I leaned back in my seat, staring blankly at the nearly empty car. Just a few office workers scattered here and there, and a little old lady sitting beside me, clutching a well-worn purse. The rhythmic clatter of the train tracks did little to calm my nerves.
____
A week after the fire.
After her parents' death, Rika stayed with Frey's family for a week. It was a temporary arrangement until the funeral and the courts decided on her new guardian. Frey had tried her best to cheer Rika up, as she always did.
"You can't keep moping around," Frey said one afternoon. "Look on the bright side. We finally live together, like we used to say we would after high school! And now I have you all to myself and won't have to share you with your parents anymore."
Rika stared at her in stunned silence before her temper flared. "So you're happy they're dead?"
Frey's pale blue eyes widened in horror. "What?! No, Rika, that's not what I meant—"
But Rika didn't let her finish. She snapped, her grief spilling out as anger, hurling accusations at Frey while Frey stammered apologies and tried to explain. The argument escalated until Frey's parents intervened. They'd barely spoken after that, and before long, Rika was gone, taken away to live with her grandmother.
_____
I sighed and glanced at my reflection in the train's window. What if this was a mistake? What if Frey didn't want to see me?
"You look like you're carrying the weight of the world, dear," the sweet, aged voice of the old lady beside me pulled me from my thoughts.
I turned to her with a polite smile. "It's just been a long night," I said. "The Lunar New Year parade was beautiful, but a little overwhelming."
She chuckled softly. "I know what you mean. Sometimes it's nicer to enjoy it from a distance."
We fell into easy conversation after that, her voice warm and reassuring. Eventually, she shifted topics. "You young folks like games, don't you?"
I blinked at the sudden change. "Uh… yeah. I like games. Haven't had much time for anything but mobile games recently, though."
"Perfect!" she said, her eyes twinkling. "There's this game my friends and I have been playing—it's for mobile. You have to sign up online, but it's worth it. The challenges are fun, and there's something… special about it."
I tilted my head, intrigued despite myself. "What's it called?"
"You don't find it online, technically," she said, probably not hearing my question. "You text a number: XX2-XX9-XX30. After that, you register and follow the instructions. Some of the tasks are odd, but they're interesting. Like baking a cake from a recipe it gives you and eating it. All of it."
I chuckled. "That does sound weird, but it's kind of a challenge. I'm into that sort of thing."
Her smile grew. "Good. Make sure you sign up soon. The servers shut down in a week, and once the game's gone, it's gone."
I nodded. A week wasn't much time, but the idea of tackling something with such a tight deadline felt strangely… inviting. A distraction. Something to focus on besides my own thoughts.
"I'll check it out tomorrow," I promised. "Thanks, Granny."
"Don't wait too long," she called after me as I gathered my things and stepped off the train.
Frey's house came into view, and my nerves returned with a vengeance. What if she didn't want to see me? What if we ended up fighting again?
Before I could spiral any further, the door opened. Frey stood there, pale blue eyes wide, framed by hair that was a striking mix of black, silvery grey, and soft white streaks.
Without thinking, I began to cry.
"What took you so long?" she asked, her voice breaking. "You said you'd be here in an hour, but you're five minutes late."
I managed a weak smile and wiped my face. "I got lost," I joked.
"Bullshit," she said, laughing through her tears. "This was practically your second house. You weren't lost; you were hesitating. The doorbell cam doesn't lie."
My cheeks burned. "Fine, I was nervous."
She pulled me into a tight hug. "You're an idiot," she whispered.
We stood there for a moment before Frey pulled back, wiping her face. "No matter what happens, you're always welcome here, Rika. My parents would kick me out before they'd let you go homeless. And my offer from seventh grade still stands~."
Her words brought back a memory I hadn't thought about in years.
_____
Seventh grade.
Frey and Rika had been inseparable since kindergarten. They'd grown up in the same neighborhood, gone to the same schools, and shared everything. But in seventh grade, Frey began pulling back, acting strange. Rika noticed the way Frey glanced at her when she thought Rika wasn't looking, and the way her jokes about "not sharing" became more awkward and hesitant.
One day, after school, Frey finally said it.
"I like you," she blurted, her pale blue eyes darting nervously. "Like, like you. I know you probably don't feel the same, but I had to tell you."
Rika stared at her, stunned. "Frey…"
"It's okay," Frey said quickly, brushing her streaked hair behind her ear. "I already know what you're going to say."
Rika hesitated, then smiled gently. "I don't want this to ruin our friendship. I really care about you, but… I'm straight."
Frey sniffled, but she smiled back. "I know. Thanks for not being weird about it."
The next day, Frey acted like nothing had happened, and things mostly went back to normal, besides the occasionally joke about her offer.
____
I laughed, the sound shaky but real. "And my answer is still the same."
Frey gasped dramatically. "Rejected again? Woe is me!"
Rolling my eyes, I let her drag me inside.
"Who was at the door?" Frey's mom called from the kitchen as we stepped inside. When she turned the corner and saw me, she froze.
"Hi, Mrs. Rosenberg," I said softly.
Tears welled in her eyes, and she rushed forward, pulling me into a hug before I could react. "Rika! It's been so long. I've missed you."
"It's only been a little less than a year," I replied, smiling at her warmth.
"It feels like a lifetime," she said, finally letting me go. "You're always welcome here, dear. And if you and Frey get into a fight again, you have my permission to kick her ass."
"Mom!" Frey groaned, dragging me toward the stairs.
We both laughed as Mrs. Rosenberg called after me, "Dinner's in an hour. Don't let her bully you, Rika!"
"She doesn't stand a chance," I replied, letting Frey lead me into her room.
Once the door closed, Frey turned to me, her playful expression fading. "What happened tonight?" she asked gently.
I hesitated, unsure where to begin. My thoughts drifted briefly to the game the old lady mentioned, but I pushed it aside.
"It's… a long story," I said quietly.
Frey sat down, patting the spot beside her. "Well, I've got time."
For the first time that night, I felt a flicker of safety. Maybe things would be okay after all.