#implied sashanne break up lol

[dankdefrank]

Vibhava-taṇhā

Summary: Vibhava-taṇhā (craving for non-existence): one of three types of taṇhā, which is an important concept in Buddhism, referring to "thirst, desire, longing, greed", either physical or mental. It is typically translated as craving. Vibhava-taṇhā can be explained as craving to not experience unpleasant things in the current or future life, such as unpleasant people or situations. This sort of craving may include attempts at suicide and self-annihilation, and this only results in further rebirth in a worse realm of existence.

or

Surviving is a miracle - living after is a curse. Two teenagers try to help each other while picking up the pieces of themselves. Content warning: underage smoking, light blood, guns, mentions of suicide/suicide attempt, suicidal/depressed thoughts. Read also on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47493457

It starts with a feeling. Feeling almost primal, that it can even be called forgotten. She barely can believe it is still with her, as it appeared one day and has never gone away since. Running through her veins, she has realized – this so-called flight or fight response has become an inseparable part of her, whether she likes it or not. And even when her life is not endangered anymore, she can still feel it, crawling under her skin. It doesn’t leave, creating a mind of its own. She finds it ironic. After all, she knows the day she’s going to disappear, for good. It’s one of the marks that her death has left on her. Another – the fear of dying again. So she holds on to this feeling for her dear life, as she believes if she lets herself breathe, she’s going to fall apart, crumble to dust – literally. But maybe this paradox is killing her. Even if it does, she won’t admit it. Not yet. While Anne knows when her time will come, she cannot stand this lack of knowledge about the lives of others’. The war is over, she may be safe and sound, but not the others. Every day, she hugs her parents so dearly, listens to her colleagues a little bit more than it’s needed, pets her cat way too often, and finally, she finds every excuse to turn back to Sasha Waybright in her English class. But when it's been a second week in a row since she has appeared in school and answered her texts, Anne starts thinking that something is very, very wrong. Her absence is understandable, given… the circumstances. She knows that Sasha probably needs time but still, she can’t stop worrying. Maybe something wasn’t working, indeed, or they were too complicated to understand their own feelings, not speaking about the feelings of the other, but they’re still friends. At least, she believes so. 

Whatever the word for people sharing the same trauma is called. Sometimes, she thinks the events from Amphibia are the only thing that connects them and it makes her wonder – have they been friends at all? What does it mean to be friends? What’s the meaning of friendship if it ends with hurting the people that we love? She’s becoming more mature, thus she has to ask questions and eventually find the answers. It’s the part of growing up, the key to truly getting to know ourselves.

She doesn’t really control her body when she turns to Sasha’s dad’s house instead of hers on her way home from school. She lets it work on its own, coming up with an "I just wanted to keep you updated on homework and you weren’t answering" excuse. Not as if that really matters. It's a sunny, warm day. Spring is coming. The scars stay. She doesn’t feel that she's here though, as if her life was one big autonomic algorithm, but she won’t exit it. It would be unforgivable.

She passes through Sasha’s neighborhood. Although she has known her for years, she has only been in her house a few times. She has to think for a moment about whether she should turn right or left. An irritating voice in her head suggests as if that was the sign she shouldn’t go there at all. She doesn’t listen to it. Then, she sees it. After a closer look, Sasha’s dad’s house isn’t different from the rest of the building by the street. When she was younger, she’d always imagined it as an enormous, spacey villa with a beautiful garden, a crystal pool and an open driveway. It turned out she was more wrong than right – Sasha’s family could be living better than hers, but they didn’t see the point in buying a huge house for money to burn, when no one was there most of the time. Not like a smaller house would make Sasha’s loneliness more bearable. Still, the house is big enough to fit the family of five at least – when Sasha’s dad got remarried, Sasha gained two younger step-siblings. Before Amphibia, she hated their guts, calling them "annoying little shits", but after… It seems like she started tolerating them. Sometimes Anne would see her picking them up from school or even taking them to the movies. It surprised her at first, but it was heartwarming to see that Sasha was trying. Now, the house is quiet. No bikes left in the yard, no car in the garage – no living soul. She thinks so at first. Approaching, she notices the familiar silhouette sitting on the porch’s stairs, buried in the shadow. Sasha looks miserable. Her eyes seem to be more absent since their last meeting, with eye-bags bigger than before. Her short, messy hair, which definitely needs a haircut, is going in every direction. Chapped lips with bloody knuckles, one hand holding a flickering cigarette, and the pack of Marlboros sticking out from the pocket of Mr. Waybright’s old bomber jacket. Compared to this lovely weather, Sasha fills this view with her own sorrow. Anne even hesitates, as her friend doesn’t notice her appearance. But, instead, she finds her presence as the sign that now she has to reach out. "Hi," she says, standing in front of Sasha, who almost drops her cigarette. "Home alone, I see?" "Jesus Christ, Boonchuy," she lets out, "You almost gave me a heart attack." Anne laughs and decides to sit next to her. "Did your family leave?", she asks. Sasha nods. "Yeah, they went to a restaurant. I didn’t wanna go." She shudders. "Which gave you a perfect opportunity to smoke a cig." "If you want one, just say it." "I’m good." Anne declines. She decides to get to the point. "You weren’t responding to my texts." "I was sick." Sasha looks away, as if that was supposed to help her with an already bad lie. "Sasha." Anne's look pierces her. It's gentle, yet firm. "One of these days?" She doesn’t want to be too sharp, although she is, in fact, irritated – she can understand Sasha’s actions though, as her well-being is not something that she can completely control. To be honest, she lost this control the day they came back. Slowly, it started to take over and soon Anne had to admit it – Sasha was a wreck, nothing like the Sasha she has known all these years. She has changed, yes, and she appreciates it every day, but sometimes she would miss that courage and spark in her cerulean eyes, replaced by cold indifference. And then, Anne also had to admit – she could have saved the world, but still, she is helpless to make her world even slightly better. Sasha is quiet for a moment. "I guess. I’m sorry."

Anne sighs. She knows her – if she wants to know exactly what's going on, she has to dig deeper. Not directly. 

She changes the subject.

"What about these?" She asks, gently grabbing one of Sasha’s bleeding hands. Sasha doesn’t stop her, even when Anne reaches out for some water and gauze in her backpack. Sasha lets out a little chuckle. "Always prepared, aren’t we?" "Better be safe than sorry. There’s always some scratch at the tennis practice." Anne answers, smiling a little. She opens the bottle of water. "Gimme your hands." Sasha listens to her – Anne knows it’s not Sasha letting herself be cared for, but it’s still the same indifference swallowing her. Sasha just doesn’t want to make it longer than it’s needed, that’s all. Anne pours some water on Sasha’s bleeding knuckles and then applies the gauze, pressuring it a bit. "Thanks," Sasha murmurs. "I would be fine, though." "I know. But there are a lot of things where I could leave you on your own. I just don’t want to." "Yeah. I– I get it." The silence falls. It’s kind of awkward, although they have spent a lot of moments without any words. For now, though, the silence is not as safe as it was – it’s unknown, unpredictable and they have gone through too much to just let it be. The silence is a sign that they, in fact, have grown apart and will continue to do so. Which is a natural course of events, but they’re too tied to each other to cut the strings of their fates. They fulfilled their destinies, but the aftermaths of these are still present in their lives. Slowly, it becomes clear – they won’t fade away. And they can be swallowed by these or accept them as part of their way to, whatever. They’re supposed to figure that out. They can’t even figure themselves out. As Anne keeps holding Sasha’s hands in hers, trying to find something that would cut that silence between them, some topic to talk about, to pretend that absolutely everything is alright (when it’s not and she wonders if it ever will be). She cannot ignore her bleeding knuckles, or rather – the reason why they are even bleeding in the first place, but she’s perfectly aware she won’t get the straight answer. It will be lost in the sea of generality, which means – it won't even be an answer at all. Instead, she takes a closer look at the details she noticed when she stepped by Sasha’s house. Now, she’s more aware of those that she saw earlier and recognizes the ones she didn’t. Then, the familiar smell of cheap beer she can find at typical, high school parties during which she realizes she’s more lonely than ever, fills her nostrils. Before she knows it, she withdraws her hands from Sasha’s and the genuine, curious question leaves her mouth.

 "Have you been drinking?" Sasha shrugs. "A little. I’m fine." She adds in a way that Anne is going to investigate more and it is absolutely not needed. She wouldn’t have to, because in that matter Anne believes her, "This beer from his fridge tasted like shit either way." And she chuckles. Anne is aware Mr. Waybright won’t notice one or two of his bottles missing. Even if he will, he’s that type of man who offers some Bud Light to any teenager entering his house, probably wanting to be this "cool" dad. Sometimes Anne can’t stop hysterically thinking that he’ll make Sasha an alcoholic before she turns 21, but it’s only panicked thinking, because Sasha just doesn’t care about some percents in her body, unlike the average American teenager. Anne has seen her at the parties – and if she had to choose, who, the fuck, from this bunch of tipsy, vomiting kids still has all of their marbles, it would be Sasha, actually. No matter how crazy it sounds. He’s not a monster, to be honest. He’s just a really crappy parent, or like Sasha once told her – he "fucked up and is too afraid to clean his shit up because it started living its own life". Her words are painfully… accurate. It’s easier to let it be. Her rage has already evaporated anyway, leaving only a void in her heart but both seem to be equally destructive. 

"Why did you drink it, then?" For a while, Anne thinks she’s like the host interviewing the guest invited to the show, fucking Christ, the same surrealistic grotesque situation. 

"I don’t know. I do a lot of stuff without thinking." Her knuckles are not bleeding as much as before, so she plays with gauze in her hands. "Although… I was frustrated. I think." 

At this point, it looks like Anne could’ve left if she wanted to. Their whole conversation is only a facade, to be honest, as there’s nothing to talk about – or rather, their misery is too big to put into words and they’re focusing all of their strength to survive. They know, it’s not the only way to live, yet the old habits don’t go away, in their heads war continues, so do they, covered in grime and blood. Being safe is out of place, it’s… wrong. She could’ve let go of her hand, as they are both drowning in dark water, and kept drowning on her own – because one of them is the weight to the other and vice versa. Maybe in some alternate world she realizes – they share nothing with each other, not anymore. So she nods, gets up, says goodbye and goes home, and that's the last time she sees her – not six feet underground, where she stays the same messy teenager forever. Maybe, in some alternate world she doesn't even think about that as she actually has been dead , even if right now it feels like she is, and it cannot be, they’re whole, the one, even if on their own they’re only shattered pieces of people they used to be. Maybe , she thinks, sitting on this very porch outside Waybrights’ house and seeing the blink of reality that still can happen flashes in front of her eyes, we’ll die.

I hope we both die.  

(It’s not her thought).  

Finally, she asks something she should have asked a long time ago – despite the obvious answer – reverse shibboleth, that "hello" at the beginning of a phone call, while you know who’s on the other side. But you still have to do it and you don’t know why, the impulsivity of the decision you won’t even remember. 

"Are you alright?" Sasha looks at her – in the deep blue of her eyes Anne sees all of that hidden pain and she knows. Hell, no, the kids aren’t alright, the kids with skinned knees and gaps in their teeth, once they’ve run onto these streets where they grew up and got lost. Yet, they came back and prayed, prayed so hard to be able to continue being kids. They’ve lost their innocence though, disturbed by the aftermath of their experiences. It is a miracle they survived. But living with the consequences of such wonder, it is a curse. 

And then, Sasha does something that will haunt Anne in her dreams for a few next weeks, although the echo of it stays with her until her dying days. She puts her hand in her pocket and pulls out a gun.

It happens in the second – she springs up, just to step back, panicked and realizes – she thinks she’s in danger. She thinks that Sasha holding Mr. Waybright’s fucking Walther may be a threat to her and she hates it. Sasha has to realize it too, as her eyes are widening, wondering if that’s betrayal as well. Anne has to cover it up. 

"What the fuck?" She whispers, her body still tense and ready to flee in any second. "It’s empty," Sasha says, her voice breaking a little, "I promise." "What were you thinking?" "I’m sorry–" "Have you gone crazy?!" She explodes and she’ll regret it later but she can’t help it right now. "Has it even crossed your damn mind what the hell– I would– what I would have to tell her ?!" "I’m sorry!" Sasha yells with full force and Anne is aware that she’s not lying. "I’m fucking sorry, okay?!"

The silence falls, right before the neighbors become interested in this yelling outside. So they quiet down, for their own damn sake, although it doesn’t really matter. Anne even feels this unbearable, beastly, immature desire to scream her lungs out about what her friend-not-friend tried to do. Instead, she takes a deep breath. "Put this shit down. Right here," she commands coldly. "Don’t– Don’t protest." So Sasha follows. This little pact of the war, which is her dad’s gun being kicked as far away as possible from them, hurts because it’s not a necessity, not at all, yet it clearly draws another new line between them. And, she has to admit, Anne fully has the right to do so – she cannot be in control of it.

Then, Anne sits down on the stairs again, but farther than before, as if the invisible wall grew during these few moments that just took place, separating them. It’s not the first time, though. A lot of walls have grown in Sasha’s life. The one that her parents placed when she was just a kid, about whose existence she would learn much later, another one when both of them found new families and she realized there’s no place for her, and the other one, in a place way more different from the Earth, eons from there. The thing is – none of these walls have been broken and Sasha doubts they ever will be. But not Anne, Anne would always find some way to break through walls that have been laid down in Sasha’s life, as they weren’t existing for her in the first place. Anne would reach her, to the place where she went without any sound – her hero, her villain, her savior, her downfall. Now, Sasha has failed her and she knows it will impact both of them for the rest of their lives.

Anne lets the air out as if she was thinking if she should or should not ask the question. Finally, she decides to do so. "Is that because of us? Just… be honest," she says so quietly and exhaustedly that Sasha just wishes she had the strength to take her inside so they both could’ve laid down and after they’d wake up this whole situation would be nothing as some bizarre, blurry dream that they couldn’t have remembered. Like they used to. Sasha blinks. "No," she says, almost defensively, "no, it’s never been us, I swear."

Anne nods. "Alright." Her face softens, somewhere between blame and the feeling that maybe it’s the last time she believes her. "I’m sorry. For… yelling at you and stuff." Sasha chuckles wryly. "I’d yell at myself too. And… I’m not a fan of compassion either. So, uh, I probably needed that." "It wasn’t okay, though." "Anne, I swear, from this point now nothing will ever be worse than that." "Then tell me why." Anne looks her in the eyes and the icey, piercing blue meets the warm brown. "Tell me the truth." 

It reminds her of the same sunny afternoon, from a few weeks ago when they both decided it’s clearly not working – or at least, not for now. Maybe, some beautiful day they will eventually understand themselves and become exactly the persons they have been looking for in the images of way too troubled teens they were. But there, she loses it, the stability of her future, because just a few moments ago she could’ve been not here anymore. Her empire of dirt falls, so does she, from its highest tower – there’s no more place to hide. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, as one of the catechists from the Saint James middle school used to say during mandatory Lent’s masses.

Funny thing – God. She quickly realized she wasn’t a believer and it wasn’t really a surprising thing. Although her parents declared themselves Catholics and she was Saint James’s student after all, none of them took care about raising her in the faith. Her parents rarely attended church, which she used to find ironic, and Saint James was mostly Catholic in name only. It worked really well with her during her early adolescence, when she would find any feeling of being subjected to some, in her opinion, ridiculous religious system absolutely outrageous. If God exists, why do people suffer? Why does hell exist? Why does the loving God kill or hate his own children? And none of the priests, believers or sacred books would give her the satisfying answer – somehow, they still believed and she couldn’t understand it. She does now, hell, she craves strength to follow them as well. Lost in her own humanity, maybe faith in some higher being would save her from annihilation. She would live in a lie, but she would at least live, frightened by God Almighty, like the kids are scared of monsters under the bed. But, in the disguise of promising the rest of her soul that’s still a lie, making her sick to her stomach. The pain is a better companion, always silent and harsh – yet, she can count on it either way. 

"Okay."

Dance on my grave with me – take my hand and let me sing.

Sasha gulps. 

"Do you remember how you died? When you turned into leaves and we thought you were gone forever?" "Hard to forget." Anne chuckles hollowly. "What about it?"

"I… I just kind of started thinking about it. That it could be some kind of salvation for me. And I guess that’s why you were so furious, because you survived."

"We all survived, Sash," she says, her eyes staring into space in front of her. "Now we have to live with the consequences."

"Yeah." A moment of quiet, she starts to fidget with her hands. "It’s not like I exactly want to die. There are still things I’d miss and I know that there are some people who care about me and I care about them. I didn’t even live half the life I wanted. But there’s something in… me, some kind of wish to not exist and sometimes it’s just too strong. Like, there’s too much pain to fight for some happiness." Sasha takes a slow breath. "A-And there’s no real way to experience nothingness. Maybe death is too much, but… Shit, I wouldn’t even have time to think about it if that gun was loaded, I’m just… exhausted. I wouldn’t really care if I had to die in five minutes."

Anne nods slowly. She thinks for a second, and then she speaks up.

"We have a name for it. In Buddhism. It’s vibhava-taṇhā. Basically craving for non-existence." "Vibhava-taṇhā," Sasha repeats. Silently, she whispers it a few times under her nose. It sounds weirdly good while she says it. Anne looks at her, but Sasha doesn’t. "I told you what happened. To be honest, I’m not sure if I didn’t dream it, but… I don’t think that death is a salvation for non-existence." 

"Why?"

"Because there’s no turning back," she says, "and we don’t want to leave forever."

"And why did you come back?"

That surprises her. Sasha knows, she had to have some thoughts like hers at some point of her life. Yet, she decided to come back here, to existence, being the man’s worst nightmare and his biggest dream. Sasha still cannot fully grasp this concept and she wants to understand. "I… I still want to experience. And… nothingness will come at some point. Why not stick around a little longer?"

"But we’re smaller people than we used to be. I mean, we’re alive, but… what now? Because I have no idea. It kind of feels like I never will," she admits.

"Actually, it’s fine," Anne assures, "nothing matters. In a good way, so that’s okay. We’re the ones who give it all direction." 

"Do you think we’ll figure it out?"

Anne shrugs. "Eventually. I hope."

"I hope so too."

They don’t say anything for a while. A little eternity. Next, Anne decides to address something that is pretty accurate. 

"You’re not going to like it, but I think you should call your dad." Sasha opens her mouth as Anne cuts in firmly, "Or any other adult. I’m your friend but I’m also just a kid. I can’t just ignore the fact you just tried– tried to kill yourself and to be honest… I just simply don’t know what to do." 

And Sasha indeed doesn’t like it, but Anne’s right. She won’t argue with her.

She sighs. "Can you at least stay? For a moment?"

"Sure," Anne says. She doesn’t hesitate. By this, she means " I’ll wait for you. " So, with a shaking hand, Sasha pulls out her phone from her pocket. Nervously, she looks for "Dad" in her contacts, while her brain frantically tries to find some good words to tell him what happened, what is happening and what will happen. Eventually, she calls him and the sound of dialing seems to last forever. But he fucking picks up. She kind of wishes he didn’t. 

"Hi, Sasha. Everything’s okay?"

She looks at Anne and she doesn't know what to say anymore. She gulps. "Hey, dad. Can you come? I– I think I need your help." "What? Are you alright?" He sounds genuinely concerned. "I found your gun," she blurts out. She doesn’t even need to say anything more as the silence from Mr. Waybright seems to tell everything as he already guessed what she wanted to do. 

"Okay," he finally says, probably still processing her words, "is anyone with you? "

"Y-yes."

"I’ll be there in twenty minutes."

"I’m sorry." She doesn’t even control it, but that’s something she wanted to tell him a long time ago. 

"It’s fine. Just wait a moment."

"Okay. Thanks." She’s sure he wants to tell her something more – maybe "I’m sorry " as well, or "I love you ", but he doesn’t. He never does and she can understand it – they may be a family, but the lines were drawn a long time ago and probably even her death wouldn’t change it. But that’s okay, she can live with it. She’s used to it, after all. But he ends the call, as if they were just casually talking about what to get in the store and that thought makes her laugh. 

"He picked up," she chuckles, still shaking, even more than before. Her vision becomes blurry as the tears start to run down her face. "H-he picked up."

Anne just slowly opens her arms and, as if it was her only way to save herself, Sasha drowns in her. Clenching her shaking hands on Anne’s t-shirt, she lets it all out, her own catharsis – she will wake up in the morning. Anne holds her gently until her dad arrives. 

They’ll be okay. Eventually.

#amphibia #my ff #sashanne #sasha waybright #anne boonchuy #angst #hurt/comfort #post finale #character study #implied sashanne break up lol #this shit took me two months i'll kiss you gently on forehead for a comment #pretime skip #teenager with issues lmao #totally not based on my experiences/existential crisis (im ok) #also sasha's realtionship with her dad #he fucked up he didnt want to but he did