Chapter Text
Sleep isn't coming easily tonight, and Glimmer isn't the only one who thinks so.
She knows who it is as soon as the door creaks open; pretends to be asleep and undisturbed by the approach of tentative footsteps, not reacting even as the bed dips to the extra weight next to her.
It's become kind of an unspoken rule, one of many that's formed between them in the time they've fought together, been together (not in that way—), that Adora is welcome here whenever she likes. It's also an unspoken rule that they don't really talk about it, don't really address the underlying layers of these impromptu sleepovers, which she isn't sure is for the sake of Adora's dignity or her own.
What she does know, though there's some vague anxiety holding her back from fully admitting it, even to herself, perhaps of coming off selfish, or maybe just a little weird— is that she's actually come to miss Adora on the nights she's not around, and sleep tends to come a little easier when she is.
Not tonight though, apparently.
A sleepless eternity drags, and then some. She doesn't need to look at Adora to know she isn't having much luck either.
"Hey," she murmurs eventually, shuffling round to face her. She’s groggy, squinting in the lack of light, and doesn't quite manage a smile until Adora reaches across the minuscule space between them to poke her nose, her own lips curling into a mischievous little grin as Glimmer recoils, pulling a face before breaking into giggles herself.
"Hey," she whispers, probably reminiscent of late nights in the Fright Zone's dorms, "shouldn't you be asleep?"
"Probably," says Glimmer, quirking a brow at Adora's hypocrisy, "shouldn't you? "
This is usually to be the point their sleepovers turn into, well, actual sleepovers. The kind that involve chatting, laughing because everything is somehow funnier this time of night, deep discussions about everything and nothing, save for the actual serious topics that have come to dominate the daytime hours and catch up to them thereafter, because everything is somehow smarter this time of night too— and, still, not a whole lot of actual sleep, but at least the weight of the world feels a little lighter by morning.
She wonders, sometimes, what it would be like to have Adora here every night, sleeping or no sleeping. Sure, their nights together wouldn’t really sleepovers anymore, but does that matter? It’s hard to tell what pushes the boundaries of her and Adora’s friendship when her only reference point is Bow, and it’s so...different with him. Sure, she loves Bow, of course she does, just…
Not like she loves Adora.
There's a weariness about her tonight. It dulls her eyes even in the dim light, pulling at the edges of her smile until it falters, momentarily betraying what lies underneath. That smile returns, though, when Glimmer pokes her nose. "Yeah," she shrugs, "probably."
Glimmer sits up, stretching her stiff limbs. Adora does the same, and Glimmer has to restrain herself from watching. "Come on." She holds out her hand. "Let's go on a midnight adventure."
It's actually well past midnight, and staying within the safe confines of Castle Bright Moon at these spooky hours is one of the few stupid mom rules Glimmer's actually pretty happy to abide by, so it's not going to be much of an adventure either. But she teleports, Adora in tow, to various locations of the Castle's outdoor areas, balconies and courtyards and even the Moonstone Tower itself, until finally, on an unmanned parapet, she finds herself, surprise surprise, all out of teleports.
"I...need a minute," she says to Adora, catching herself on a wall as her legs threaten to give way under her. She'll stay here until the world stops spinning.
Adora just playfully rolls her eyes, nodding towards the Moonstone Glimmer just teleported them away from. "You could have recharged over there, dumbface."
"Yes," Glimmer groans, " thank you , dumber-face."
Compared with the near-suffocating summer heat of Glimmer's room, the nighttime breeze up here provides some much needed relief. She watches as it tousles Adora's hair, lifting the strands that must have fallen out of her ponytail from hours of tossing and turning. The bags framing her eyes tell of countless sleepless or sleep-deprived nights; the slump of her shoulders, the lost, despondent look that resumes over her features when she thinks Glimmer isn't looking, tells of the kind of tiredness no amount of sleep is going to solve.
Glimmer doesn't say anything. But she does approach her once the dizziness subsides, leaning her head on Adora's shoulder, placing her hand over Adora's where it grasps the wall, tight enough for the white of her tendons to strain through. Adora exhales, and the grip seems to slacken, as she rests her head on Glimmer's; it's among the few instances Glimmer's actually kind of glad for the height difference.
"Sorry," she mutters, though she's probably no more sure what she's apologising for than Glimmer is, "I'm just... really tired."
"I know. It's okay." Glimmer soothes. She runs her thumb over the back of Adora's hand, across the purple and blue bruises that bloom across her knuckles, hesitating, swallowing. She feels compelled to ask. "Are you...sure it's nothing else?"
Adora is quiet for a while. She draws her hand from under Glimmer's, folding her arms and resting her chin on them, gazing dazedly over the expansive view of Bright Moon before her. The moons and the Moonstone are still the sole lights of the sky, the silvery gleam dancing across the clear waters below, illuminating the rolling hills and vast cliffs that circle the queendom like a protective wall, like the safe arms of a lover. It's all mundane to Glimmer, it's all she's ever known, but it must be a far cry from the view Adora is, or was , used to.
Her response, when it comes, isn't what she expects, but it also doesn't surprise her.
"Is it bad I sometimes miss the Horde?"
She says it very quietly, tentatively, like she's ashamed of the fact, afraid of being chastised for admitting it. After everything the Horde have done to Etheria, to the people of Bright Moon, to her— how dare she harbour any sentiment towards the enemy, right?
Glimmer isn't angry, though. She puts her arm around her to assure her of this before she verbally does so, gently squeezing her shoulder. "No, of course it isn’t bad. You grew up there, right? You had friends, you had Catra— it'd be weird if you didn't have some good memories."
"Yeah. That's the thing." Adora sighs. "I don't regret leaving, obviously, I just... sometimes I wish I'd left on better terms, you know? The Horde raised me, these people were basically my family , even Shadow Weaver had...her moments, sometimes, and I feel horrible acknowledging that after how she treated Catra. At the end of the day, I...I wouldn't be who I am now without them, I feel like I owe them more than just...upping and leaving. They deserve closure as much as I do. Probably more , actually."
"Adora." Glimmer's tone still isn't angry, but it is much more firm. "You don't owe the Horde anything , okay? Not your old friends, not Catra, and definitely not Shadow Weaver. You were only a baby when the Horde took you in, it's not like you asked for any of this."
"Hmm." Adora doesn't seem convinced. "I guess you're right."
She knows, from piecing together what she's been told, the gist of Adora's upbringing, and she can use that to trace the roots of her turmoil.
She knows, but that doesn't mean she understands.
Glimmer hasn't been conditioned to fight from the moment she can stand. She hasn't had her entire reality ripped from beneath her feet, found out that everything she came to understand about the world is based on a lie; she hasn't had to turn against everyone who raised and were raised with her for the sake of her morality; and she isn’t now stumbling into the cusp of adulthood tasked not only with rebuilding herself from the ashes of her previous life, but also carrying the burden of Etheria's very fate on her shoulders. How can she even begin to understand what that's like?
"But then again," Adora adds, "I didn't choose to be She-Ra either."
In a lot of ways, Glimmer feels like she's known Adora for years.
In many others, it's like she doesn't know her at all.
"I'm sorry," she responds, quietly, pathetically, for lack of anything else to say.
"Don't be, it’s not your fault."
But maybe this is okay.
Maybe what they have now is fine.
Adora is Adora, Glimmer is Glimmer. They exist in separate spheres that sometimes overlap. They fight the Horde together by day and their own demons by night. Glimmer is here if Adora needs her as a silent comforting presence, or a distraction, and she's sure if the need arises, Adora will return the favour. Because that's what friends are for, right?
But then, as Adora turns to face her fully, leans in as Glimmer's arms slide around her in a full embrace, and they're so close Glimmer can feel Adora’s breathing, hear her heartbeat through her nightshirt until it seems to meld or sync with the sound of her own heart pounding in her ears— she finds herself face-to-face with those boundaries once more.