The End

The music swelled, flurrying into final notes before the screen turned black. They sat there in the dark. The silence. The still.

Her eyes unmoving from the display, Nyssa shifted in her seat. She tucked her leg up to her chest, the creak of the chair and the brushing of fabric the only sound in the near empty theater.

“I think it’s time,” Val said.

“We should wait for the end credits,” Nyssa replied.

“I don’t think it’s that kind of movie.”

They looked at one another finally, their faces illuminated in the dark by the rising indecipherable white text. A softly curved smile on Val’s, the opposite threatening to appear on Nyssa’s.

“It could be.”

But Val shook her head in response, rising from her seat as the lights faded into their world. She outstretched her hand.

Hesitant in hopes of stealing small precious moments, Nyssa took it. She unfolded her legs and stood.

There was no way to define how a good movie was supposed to make you feel. Where was it to lie? In the heart or the mind? Nyssa supposed it depended on the person. Some people watched the best movies on repeat, cultivating all the dialogue, all the movements of the camera, all those tiny details. Others only ever watched it once to preserve the thrill of the first experience, for it was never the same any time after the initial credits. 

For her, she wanted neither and both at the same time. She wanted to relive every moment and stay clear of the brimming emotions watching it again would bring. 

What she wanted was for the movie to never end in the first place. There would be no option to walk away or rewatch.

But Val wouldn’t let that happen. 

Hands clasped together, Val led her toward the exit of Theater 9. 

Nyssa didn’t let go. She didn’t stop, but she did drag her fingers across the backs of the seats. She let the fibers of the velvet imprint on her mind, the smell of buttered popcorn swirl in her nose, the solidity of the carpeted floor beneath her sink into her soul.

As the light of the door flooded into the darkness, she looked back at the empty theater, echoes of the past bouncing off the walls.

The door shut behind them.

Nyssa squinted her eyes in the light, slowly taking in the plethora of colors around them. 

The rest of the cinema remained tranquil, quiet, perhaps with a slight buzz of the lightbulbs, if anything.

“We could stay in here forever, you know.” Nyssa looked to Val, tugging her arm slightly to stop her from leading them to the door. “No one around to tell us what to do, no more showings for the night.”

Val squeezed her hand. “But you know that someone would eventually come along and escort us away.”

“But right now we could—”

“Nyssa.”

She dropped her shoulders, forcing her frustration away faster than it had risen. “I know.”

Smiling brightly, Val brought their hands to her heart in a gesture of appreciation. “Good. I wouldn’t wish for us to get in an argument in the time that’s left.”

“Can we at least…”

“Walk slow? Yes, as long as we are heading there.”

“Okay.”

Nyssa looked down at her feet as they made their way along the patterned carpet. Toe to heel she stepped, letting the weight of her legs stay heavy to the ground. She could hear Val’s soft breathing, and the electronic buzz of the empty concessions stand. 

In their quiet was a heavy sensitivity, a volatile air of emotions. Nyssa wished to rid of it, but couldn’t help her fear of disrupting the peace with her voice. But why wouldn’t she? After all, the night was coming to an end, the time to speak was limited. Why should she hold back from last words in order to maintain whatever she was holding onto presently.

It was strange, but she couldn’t quite break it.  Whether this silence was of serenity or somber could not quite be known. 

Val and her walked hand in hand, one of their eyes on the floor and the other on the atmosphere. 

And just as the emotions held back by a dam in Nyssa’s chest began to flood over, they stopped between the concessions and the front door. The dark abyss of the night outside could barely be seen in the reflection of light on the glass doors. The unknown beyond them was terrifying compared to the familiarity in Val’s eyes.

The same eyes she had looked into time and time again, through different sounds and lights, different times of day, different places and pressures. The memories of their time together seemed far and wide but ever so limited in the grand scheme of it all. Those moments were no longer played on a big screen with thousands of pixels of light and color. They lived in her head as fleeting recollections. 

Fleeting recollections she didn’t want to release. Not now, not ever. 

Val hummed. It was something simple she would do to get Nyssa’s attention without wasting words, and as expected, it caught her each time. She blinked back into the moment, facing her. The menu of concessions behind Val flashed appealing images of light. Nyssa wished she could order one more bucket of popcorn or a ticket to the next showing.

But there wasn’t another showing, nor anyone to sell it to them. Maybe for the better, that no one had to witness what was next. 

Nyssa’s breath hitched, but her voice remained tangled in her throat as though trapped in spiderwebs marking the absence of words between the two women. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes, blurring her vision and casting a halo of light around Val’s face. She blinked them away, letting them fall down her cheeks to see Val’s smile in full resolution. 

Her eyes were like stained glass, a mosaic of colors and emotions that flourished in the light. If they had more time, she would dance in their light.

Finally, Nyssa found the courage to speak. “I’m scared.”

“I know.”

“Aren’t you?”

 Val frowned in contemplation of the question. “Yeah.” She had her answer but the words to express it were difficult to string together. “Yeah, I am. But I think I’m okay with the fear.”

“How?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I always knew it was coming. I could never control when or how or what would happen, but I knew. And I think you do too.” Despite her soothing words, Val was beginning to cry as well. Melancholic tears trailed along her cheeks.

With a sniff and a nod, Nyssa let a little more of herself break. She couldn’t hold it together much longer, but it felt selfish to start any sort of catharsis when Val must have also been standing her ground. 

She wiped her tears with her sleeve. Her breathing was shaky, but she let it be until she could calm down. 

“What am I supposed to do?” Nyssa asked. She felt so frail, so small, looking up to this amazing person before her who believed her to be an equal, yet feeling tiny herself.

“All of the things you ever want to do, and more.”

There was a pause where she imagined it. Just a few moments of balancing a future of good, bad and gray. Then Nyssa did her best to relax her shoulders. “Alright.”

“Alright,” agreed Val, before squeezing her hand again and prompting the two of them to walk towards the green glowing exit sign.

Nyssa’s other hand shook despite all her attempts to calm herself. Her lip quivered, and her tears ran like a river. She could feel her breathing quicken as they approached, panic seeping into her and poisoning the bloodstream that ran through her body. The door came closer and the darkness grew. Her feet were miniscule yet took wide steps closer and closer.

“Hey.” Val returned her to reality once more. “Look at me.”

She did as asked, continuing her step not towards the door, but with Val by her side. And though it was ataractic, the next moment led them in front of the door. 

No more steps to take. No more moments to steal. 

Nyssa wanted to run away, but she knew it was childish to do so. Val was strong, so was she. 

Instead she wrapped her arms around Val, with all the affection in her heart, throwing the other woman aback in her force. They held on tight, remembering everything at once. Feelings, scents, breaths, sounds. Val’s hands smoothed over her back while Nyssa’s fingers gripped at her jacket. 

How could she be so calm? How could she be so okay right now when she knew what was happening? How could she—

“You’re gonna do amazing. We both are.” All Nyssa’s thoughts dissipated when hearing Val’s voice in her ears. “Here.” They separated, and Val held out a small slip of paper between the two of them. “A memento.”

Nyssa looked between her and the paper, reaching her hand out and grasping it lightly within her fingers. 

With her hands now free, Val placed Nyssa’s head in her palms, smoothing over her cheeks with her thumbs and wiping away the path of her tears. “It’s gonna be okay.” She ran her fingers through Nyssa’s hair one last time, before raising onto her toes and planting a kiss on her forehead.

Through her tears, Nyssa smiled. Laughed too, if whatever pathetic sound that came out of her mouth could be considered a laugh. It was weird to her how Val was shorter and yet she was the one to kiss foreheads, the one Nyssa looked up to. 

They separated for the last time; or the first time, in a way. 

Nyssa pushed the door open with her back, swirling wind biting her neck with a chill. She gripped Val’s hand tightly, watching their arms extend out between the inside and the outside of the cinema. 

She squeezed Val’s hand.

Val squeezed back.

And then they let go as the door began to close between them. Nyssa lowered her arm, but Val kept hers raised. The two of them held one another’s gaze up until the glass door shut. 

The sound of midnight opened up her senses at last. Insects and distant cars and the expanse of the world around her. No longer could she see Val. Instead, a reflection of herself in the black glass stared back at her. An ominous figure standing under the lamppost. Neon lights above highlighting the edge of her own face. 

She released her breath, watching as the cloud of hot air dissipated in front of her face in the cold. Nyssa looked up into the sky. Clouds rolled over stars barely visible in the view from the cinema’s blinding marquee lights.

Nyssa stepped back, the only sound to signify any life around her being the collision of her own boots on the pavement. 

She looked down at the paper Val had given her, then to the door once more. “Goodbye, Val.”

Nyssa shoved the ticket to The Afterlife in her pocket, stepping out into the cold of the night.