LEAVE ME, PLEASE

The exit was far from just hard to find. The dust was playing with Sponge's mind, mimicking Vvh's voice, and Ji-Ho couldn't help her because she was a hallucination herself. 

Sponge teetered on the brink of a meltdown, close to accepting her fate and lying down on the cold floor.

Behind her, Ji-Ho trailed, frowning as she watched Sponge limp on her own, letting out small grunts and groans while refusing help. "Spongey," Ji-Ho called, but Sponge didn't turn. "Sponge," she tried again, and finally, Sponge came to a stop.

Turning to Ji-Ho, she snapped, "Enough!" Ji-Ho flinched in surprise, looking too stunned to speak as Sponge heaved a breath. "I've had enough of these damn mind games!" she yelled, staring at the ground.

Sponge heard Ji-Ho's footsteps as she approached and gently placed a hand on her face. "Hey, you're just in pain. How about another rest? What do you think?" Ji-Ho asked, but Sponge shook her head.

"The only thing I've been doing is resting. What I need to do is go back to Vvh—but this fucking dust is messing with my head. I… I don't know which way is back," Sponge whimpered, burying her face in her hands as a sob escaped her.

She felt Ji-Ho run her fingers through her hair—calming, relaxing. In just a few seconds, Sponge caught her breath, tears already dried. 

"I can't believe I'm crying now. I couldn't even cry when my parents cried. I didn't even cry when they burned you," she mumbled, her voice drained and tired as Ji-Ho slowly lowered her to the ground.

"It's the fever and your injuries," Ji-Ho supplied unhelpfully, as if Sponge didn't already know that.

Not only was she acting pathetic, but she also felt miserable. All she wanted was rest, fresh air, and freshwater.

And gods—she's so hungry too; she hadn't been eating properly ever since they arrived in this place. Sponge doesn't know whether to laugh. 

"I don't know if the voice we've been following is really Vvh's," she whispered, swallowing thickly as she coughed harshly into her fist, almost bending from the sheer force.

Ji-Ho held her shoulders back as she heaved and coughed. "We'll find a way. Vvh will always find you," she reassured, prompting Sponge to chuckle.

 "I guess she would—she always finds me," she murmured, leaning back and resting her head on Ji-Ho's shoulder, her breath trembling and quiet.

Sponge felt Ji-Ho's hand on her forehead, letting out a small noise. 

"You're too hot to touch," she murmured worriedly, and Sponge chuckled lightly. "I've always been hot," she jested, earning a sigh from Ji-Ho.

They both fell silent, with only Sponge's harsh breathing breaking the stillness. Painfully, Sponge realized that Ji-Ho wasn't breathing; she couldn't feel her chest rise and fall.

She really was just a hallucination, Sponge thought, her eyes glazing over in sorrow as Ji-Ho hushed her, wiping the sleeve of her coat on Sponge's forehead. 

"You're shaking again," Ji-Ho murmured, rubbing Sponge's arms to provide warmth.

"Who wouldn't? I'm sitting beside a dead body," Sponge said, forcing a pained grin. Ji-Ho gave her a look—it was hard to distinguish: pained? Disappointed? Sponge didn't know.

"How long have I been missing? It's not a whole day, is it?" Sponge asked, blinking tiredly.

It was getting harder to tell how long she had been walking or the duration of the small breaks she took for a nap. Was it just a brief rest, or a full-blown sleep? She didn't know. 

Was Vvh still even trying to find her? 

Had she just been going in circles?

Ji-Ho bit her lip, her expression uncertain—just like Sponge's. Maybe Ji-Ho would have the answers if only Sponge could remember; after all, she was just a figment of Sponge's imagination.

"Don't answer," Sponge added, and Ji-Ho gave her a sad look. "It doesn't matter if I've been missing for days, does it? I'm going to die from these wounds anyway. The town is messed up, and the next one is miles away." Sponge laughed harshly, the sound echoing through the tunnel.

Then Ji-Ho grabbed her shoulders, forcing Sponge to face her. The wound in her stomach ached, but at least it jolted her senses. 

"Stop saying that! You're going to live! We'll find Vvh, and she'll get you to the next town, got it?!" Ji-Ho stared at her with fierce determination, her voice low but intense. She was yelling—yet her voice didn't echo.

Sponge stared at her in stunned silence before bursting into laughter. Ji-Ho leaned back, confusion etched on her face as Sponge continued to laugh, nearly losing her breath. 

"Stop laughing, Spongey," she pouted, and Sponge wiped a tear from her eye as her laughter began to fade.

"Sorry, it's just so fucking funny that my own brain is telling me not to die," Sponge chuckled, and Ji-Ho's expression softened.

"Do you think I would want you dead?" Ji-Ho asked, holding Sponge's hands. Sponge looked at her, a small pained smile on her face. "Does it even matter? You're dead," she murmured, her smile faltering as her gaze dropped.

"Am I not here to comfort you in your worst moments? Don't push me away, Spongey," Ji-Ho murmured. Sponge sighed, nodding softly as Ji-Ho gently caressed her cheek. Sponge closed her eyes.

"Sleep," Ji-Ho whispered, guiding Sponge's head onto her shoulder. "'Kay," Sponge murmured, feeling no urge to protest as her weary mind and body craved rest.

She could sleep for almost a year.

"I'll make sure you get a good rest," Ji-Ho whispered, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Sponge's ear.

—

Sponge's mother had always been a good cook—she was even called "the chef" as a joke. It had been so long since Sponge had smelled her food, but the moment the aroma wafted to her nostrils, she shot up from her… bed?

Confused, Sponge looked around and realized she was back in her room.

Just then, she heard her father call her name. "Sponge! It's time to eat lunch!" he called, knocking on her door. Sponge quickly stood up and dashed toward the door, seeing her father walk down the stairs, whistling a tune.

"What? Where—" Sponge murmured, disoriented, as she hurriedly followed him, almost tripping on the stairs. 

She raced toward the kitchen, letting out a small squeak when she saw her mother stirring a pot, dancing to a familiar tune. Her father was beside her, setting out plates and utensils.

"M-Mom?" Sponge said, her voice shaky as her mother turned to her, puzzled.

"Sponge! You're late! I told you to stop staying up late," she clicked her tongue, shaking her head in disappointment. Sponge quietly sat down at the dining table, watching their every move like a hawk. She noticed her father placing a plate, spoon, and fork in front of her as her mother continued to set the table.

"What's wrong with you? You're so quiet," her father said, tousling her hair. Sponge frowned and shook her head.

"N-nothing… just a bad dream," she murmured, eyeing them with sad eyes. Out of all the things the dust could show her, this was the one thing she would never experience again.

She watched her mother laugh at something her father whispered before they took their seats, smiles on their faces. "Your father and I made this," her mother said, gesturing to the food she had prepared.

Sponge swallowed, staring at the meal, before forcing a smile. "It looks good," she said. Her mother raised an eyebrow.

"Are you feeling alright? You've been acting weird. You haven't even mentioned the book you're trying to write!" she laughed, and Sponge winced.

She shook her head quietly, lowering her gaze as she grabbed her fork, staring at it. She could barely hear her parents talking in the background.

What was she even doing here? Shouldn't she be in the cave, focusing on how to escape? Why—

"Sponge, your mother and I are thinking of sailing off, and maybe it's time for you to join us as well," her father said, grinning from ear to ear. Sponge looked up, surprised.

"Wha—huh?" she stammered, turning to her mother, who giggled at her response. 

"What do you think, honey?" her mother asked, chuckling lightly. Sponge blinked wildly, unsure where this dream was going. "I-I, yeah, sure," she said, rubbing the back of her neck.

It might be the dust warping her reality, but that didn't mean she should turn away from it. If this distraction kept her from confronting the pain of her wounds and sickness, why not stay for a while?

"You know what, hell yeah!" Sponge grinned as her father barked a laugh.

"Language!" her mother chimed in playfully, but Sponge just smiled, unapologetic.

"Sorry," she replied.