Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

i could touch a hundred thousand souls

but none of them would ever feel like home

and no matter how far and wide i roam

you're the only one i'll ever know

— anyone else, PVRIS

 

what am i, if not yours?

what do i do with my hands

when they are just hands?

— olivia gatwood, from “the lover as a cult"

 

Catra has recurring dreams.

She doesn’t remember when she started getting them, only that it was a constant in her life. As a kid, she would sometimes draw a little too much of the same thing, the same familiar blurred face looking at her with wide eyes. In the dark, Catra sometimes saw blue glowing at her— and it would be gone in a heartbeat. Her art teacher thought it was great that she had inspiration, that it was something few people had— something inside, bigger than her, that motivated her into creating. 

Catra never really bought that, even though she liked the drawings. But eventually, she grew up and wasn’t always able to wake up and just draw— not when the images became fast, harsh and she couldn’t breathe afterward. Sometimes, she couldn’t even see, but she would feel a strong grip on her hand, nails clutching her arms like it was the end of the world. 

(Maybe it was, because, sometimes, Catra would wake up and see scars that weren’t there before.)

She started writing, then, filling her nightstand with journals, scribbled calligraphy, and slurred words. It wasn’t exactly a dream journal, as her therapist called it on a few occasions, but still not something she would read for a literature project— even though she did, once. 

Today, her hands are shaking, but she still grips the pen and forces herself to write what she remembers. She was wearing a long white dress, but it was stained with blood. And I held her, but it wasn’t enough. There was a cliff and I couldn’t see the bottom of it and she fell. I didn’t hear it and I couldn’t see her face, but I felt that she was real. 

The pen almost rips the paper when she finishes it and slams the notebook on her nightstand. Catra’s exhausted— she always is when she has these dreams. And, like it happens every night, she drifts off to sleep after a while of steadying her breath.

When she wakes up, she doesn’t remember the dream.

“You got everything you need?” Scorpia asks. 

Catra goes through her list— again— because she knows that if she doesn’t, Scorpia won’t relax. “Yeah. Double checked it. Again.”

“Are you sure? What if you need something that isn’t there, I mean— ”

“Scorpia.” Her tone is serious but she makes sure not to sound rude. “Don’t worry, okay? Everything is fine, really.”

She opens the door, checking the time through the cracked screen on her phone. Glimmer would be pulling in at any time now. 

“Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“You know I will.”

She goes quiet, scratching her cheek. Scorpia probably knows, by the look on her face, that Catra had one of those dreams again— or just a bad dream, for what’s worth. It’s not Catra’s favorite subject, but it eventually came up after living with Scorpia for some time now. And she knows how much Scorpia cares and can almost see the question she’s dying to ask but— it’s not something Catra feels like dealing with.

At least she doesn’t have to, for now. Glimmer is already calling her, impatient as ever, which means she’s already downstairs. Catra doesn’t take long saying goodbye but she still hugs Scorpia and swallows the lump on her throat— she does not need to talk about it. 

When she reaches the car, Glimmer has sunglasses on, even though is a cloudy day. Catra bites back a smile as she moves to open the car trunk. She didn’t pack that much — it’s just for the summer and she doesn’t have that much clothing, after all — but, knowing Glimmer, the backseat is full of her stuff. 

“You look terrible,” she chants, louder than she actually has to. 

Glimmer groans, headfirst into the wheel. “Stop screaming, for fuck’s sake. I have like, the worst headache ever.”

“Get out,” Catra flicks her wrist, “I’m driving. No questions allowed.”

Glimmer doesn’t even protest, dragging herself out of the car.

“You took aspirin or something?”

“Yeah,” she replies, adjusting herself on the passenger's seat as Catra starts driving. “Mermista gave me some.”

Catra glances at her side. Mermista and Sea Hawk are well known for their parties, but she never really bothered to be there to see the following day. Judging for Glimmer, not pretty. “You slept over?”

“Ugh, Bow is gonna kill me.”

“I mean, if your mom doesn’t do it first.”

“Fuck off,” Glimmer hisses, “It’s like, four hours until Bright Moon, anyway. I’ll be totally sober when we get there.”

“Yeah, you tell yourself that.” She considers turning on the radio, even if it’s some classical music or something, only because it’s better than driving in total silence, but Glimmer groans when a truck passes over them, so she stops herself. “I won’t tell Bow if you don’t want me to.”

“It’s fine,” she shrugs, “And I will only have to see him tomorrow, so.”

Catra takes the highway. It’s the middle of the week so there’s no much traffic, the sun setting high above them. Glimmer is lucky she has sunglasses on. 

“You know he can’t stay mad at you for long.” She taps the wheel. “How much did you drink, anyway?”

Glimmer adjusts her sunglasses. 

“You do not want to know.”

Catra tries not to laugh. Glimmer has always been a lightweight, but too proud to admit it. Still, she had always been careful, to say at least, but not the most responsible when it came to stressful times— and that included seeing her mother. Even though Catra got quite fond of Angella over the years, she knows how intense the relationship between the two of them can be sometimes— and how much it means to Glimmer to go back because her mother asked her to.

Glimmer falls asleep shortly after, but Catra still doesn’t turn on the radio. At least there’s more noise in the middle of the day, so she focuses on that, taking her time since she doesn’t know the road yet. It will be her first time in Bright Moon— she has heard about it from Glimmer and Bow enough times to know about all the important bars, the school where they studied, and the park where Glimmer sprained her ankle for the first time. But, aside from them, Catra had always thought that Bright Moon was just a dead end, in the middle of nowhere. She knew it was an old city, and a pretty small one — didn’t even know if it was on the map — but Bow and Glimmer made it sound magical.

When Angella asked Glimmer to stay there for the summer and take care of the house, just until the renovation was complete, Glimmer saw it as a perfect opportunity to bring Catra and Bow along— and maybe she wanted to prove herself to her mother, but Catra wasn’t going to be the one to break out the news to her. Nevertheless, Catra was a little bit curious about Bright Moon and too weak to say no to Bow, so she agreed to it. It could be fun, after all.

She focuses on that during the whole ride. Her mind sometimes shifts to her dream, which she barely recover, but, somehow, there were always remnants. Never clear, though. Catra was always left with a puzzle that she did not know if she wanted to bother solving, despite all the signals that she should. She doesn’t know why she keeps getting those dreams, neither does her expensive therapist. It was fine when she still had unfinished business with her family — the whole hanging thing seemed to please her therapist — but now? When she was finally doing okay? It doesn't make sense— but again, what can she even do about it?

There’s a subtle pang on her forehead and she knows that, if she keeps thinking about it, she will soon have a headache worse than Glimmer’s. So, for now, she drives, focusing on the road ahead of her, the patterns that she never learned, the weird city names that show up every now and then, as the sun gets lower in the sky.

Bright Moon is a strange city, to say at least. Glimmer had shown Catra a few photos when they first became friends— always side by side with Bow— and later all of the albums, scrapbooks containing polaroids, family portraits, and a remarkable photoshoot from when Bow tried photography for a few months. Catra always felt the same— the photos evoked a nostalgic and striking feeling as if the place somehow had been part of Catra’s life, even though she never even got near it, with Bright Moon being in the middle of nowhere and all.

But, as she passes the city sign, she feels her body getting lighter. It’s like there’s something in the air— but she can’t quite place it. The trees bend to one another, covering the road as sunlight dares to reach her. It forms exquisite shadows on the car’s panel, almost like they’re dancing. When she looks sideways, behind the few houses that started to appear and up the hills, it’s almost like the sun decided to turn the trees into gold. 

She blinks. Maybe Catra is just enamored with the city— Bow did warn her that Bright Moon is something else— but she shrugs it off as they approach the town square. Glimmer is sleeping on the passenger’s seat, so she makes a stop to check the address. The house doesn’t seem to be far away from here, just a few minutes. She still double checks it and messages Bow that they’re already in town.

Turns out, Glimmer’s house is not hard to locate since is the only one under renovation. There are scaffoldings outside it and whoever was working must have just left, given the time. Catra stops in front of the garage, tugging Glimmer at the side. Looking outside the window, the house doesn’t really match the others in the neighborhood. It’s probably much older, and, if it needed a renovation that bad, it probably was falling to pieces— still, it’s beautiful in a way that Catra can’t quite place it.

“How do I look?”, Glimmer asks, taking off her sunglasses. It’s like someone punched her on the face.

“Not that bad,” Catra smiles, gesturing to the sunglasses, “but I would keep it if I were you.”

She ignores Glimmer’s scowl as she combs her hair and they head to the front door. Glimmer’s hand hangs in the air as Angella opens it for them.

“Glimmer!”, Angella exclaims, pulling Glimmer for a hug. Catra looks away, suddenly too conscious that’s been a long time since they saw each other and it isn't the moment for her to intrude; instead, she drags her eyes to the front of the house, the white windows and faded yellow paint. “God, how long has it been since you last slept?” 

“ Mom, ” Glimmer protests, “This is Catra, told you about her. Bow is coming later today but he’s going to meet his dads for dinner. Anyways, tomorrow he’ll be here.”

Catra forces a small smile, “Hi.” 

She doesn’t expect Angella to hug her. Looking over her shoulder, Glimmer snickers.

“Come in.” Angella rushes through the door. “I was just leaving, but I made cake. You two must be hungry.” 

“But it’s like, five o’clock.”

The inside is cozier than Catra expected. The walls are filled with photos, most of them Glimmer’s, and in some she even sees Bow. She follows Glimmer, who follows Angella, to the kitchen— with more photos, not that she’s surprised.

“Tell that to the office.” She gets a briefcase that was in the counter and goes for the coffee machine. “We have a very difficult client right now, and it’s such a huge deal. We can’t let it slip.” 

“I was hoping we could catch up.”

Catra moves to Glimmer’s side. She knew that the whole reason for spending the summer in Bright Moon was to take care of the house since Angella was never home, but she still sees the sadness on Glimmer’s eyes— and she’s never been the best at comforting touches, but she figures if she stands near them enough, her friends might pick up on what she’s trying to say.

“We will. ” She tugs at Glimmer’s hair. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Why don’t you invite Bow over to lunch? I miss that boy.”

Glimmer rolls her eyes. “I know you do, Mom.” 

Angella leaves a kiss on Glimmer’s forehead and she's out of the door in a second. Glimmer stares at the fridge as the rumbling of the car’s engine gets more distant. 

“Your mom seems nice.”  

“She’s very busy,” Glimmer sighs, chin propped on her hand, “And I don’t know since when Bright Moon became the hotspot of real estate, but yeah. She likes you, though.”

“Of course she does. I’m a good influence.” When Glimmer doesn’t say anything, she adds, “Hey. Your mom misses you too. Being busy comes with being a powerful businesswoman, you know.”

Glimmer shrugs and Catra doesn’t know what more she can do, so she goes quiet. They eat in silence, and, after Glimmer gets her bags, she shows Catra the house.

It’s definitely a pretty house. For a few moments, Catra feels lost in space in time, like she entered another timeline— the night sets slowly, sky purple outside and the air is damp, but there’s the soft summer breeze coming from the windows and, suddenly, Catra feels like she might see a younger Glimmer walking in at any point. She wonders what must’ve been, growing up here— not that she can imagine it, really. Glimmer points to places where she got hurt as a kid and where she used to hide from Bow; there are more and more pictures in every corner.

“This is one of Bright Moon’s oldest houses. My grandparents lived here.” she points to a photo of an old couple on the wall. “Mom wants to renovate but she doesn’t want the house to lose its spirit, you know?”

“Would be a shame.”

They go up to the second floor and stop in front of a white door. Glimmer opens it to a medium bedroom with a large window facing the back of the house.

“This is the guest room. My room is right down the hall if you need anything. There’s a bathroom here, too.” 

Catra sets her bag on the bed, eyeing the wardrobe, but Glimmer still fidgets with her fingers at the door. 

“Spill it, Sparkles.”

She huffs, “Scorpia told me you have trouble sleeping, sometimes. Don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything.” 

Glimmer leaves, then. Catra thinks about it— trouble sleeping is a euphemism, at best. But, still, she lets her shoulders fall and takes the journal out of the bag.

Catra didn’t expect for there to be so many boxes. And, given the groan that Glimmer just let out, neither did she.

“I can’t believe we have to go through all of these.” She settles on the floor, placing her phone on the coffee table. The sofa is filled with boxes, leaving no place for them— the whole place is packed, to be exact.

“I’m getting wine.”

“Please.”

The house is quieter at night— actually very peaceful, and Catra is thankful for that. She still feels a little out of place, like she’s intruding something that never had an opening for her, but she can work that out. She has always been quite fond of summer nights, after all. The lights are out when she makes her way to the kitchen, and the moonlight casts shadows as she walks down the halls. It should be creepy, aligned with the way the wood squeaks under her footsteps and, for a moment, she tries, really tried, to imagine what would’ve been like growing up here. 

She comes back with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Glimmer is checking out one of the boxes, its content sprawled on the table in front of her. Family albums, Catra realizes. 

“Are we looking at old photos?” she offers Glimmer a glass.

“Apparently, my mom wants to get rid of old stuff.” 

“I thought you guys were all about memories and scrapbooks.”

“Me too,” she replies, softly. “All of these have pictures of my father.”

“Oh.”

Catra knows about Glimmer’s father as much as Glimmer knows about Catra’s family— a few mentions there, some stories here, but never anything concrete and tangible. She knows that he hasn’t been around for a long time, now. Sometimes, Bow would mention him and Glimmer’s face would go dark in a heartbeat, contorted in a way that she always left the room afterward. Catra knew the same happened to her, so every question she could possibly have died on her throat.

Today, Glimmer clenches her jaw and doesn’t look away.

“I guess she didn’t want to be the one to deal with them.” 

Catra looks at the picture on Glimmer’s hand— a teenage boy with dark hair, arms around a younger girl. They seem to be on a farm, a lake behind them, and, in the corner of the photo, a woman is looking at them, probably an aunt or something. The boy looks exactly as Glimmer did when she was younger.

“You don’t have to be the one to deal with them either.”

“Yeah, whatever." She puts the photo away in a pile with other albums. “I don’t wanna get rid of photos of my aunt Casta. Plus I have like, all summer to figure out what to do with that. And I’m supposed to just sort them, I guess.”

Catra dumps one of the boxes next to her. “There’s a lot of paper here.”

“You can get rid of whatever is really old, like 2005 and stuff. Tell me if anything seems important.”

There are old wedding invitations, receipts, and grocery lists, somehow. Catra rips them all, throwing them on the bag, while Glimmer chats about what they plan to do with the house— mostly ideas her aunt Casta had for it— and the plans she has for this summer. Catra listens to about half of it, absorbed on ripping paper — therapeutical, really — until she goes for another box. This one has a lot of drawings, marked with a moon in the corner— all Glimmer’s. 

“Oh, my God, I was an artist,” Glimmer laughs, taking one that’s too confusing to really look like something, but there’s a very good! on the corner of it.

Catra fills her glass again and goes through them— there’s a lot of the same beach, a purple castle, and a lot of moons— and she stops when she recognizes Bow in one of them.

“Look who I found,” she points, taking a picture of it.

“‘This is so cute. I don’t ever remember drawing these.”

“Of course you didn’t, you were a child.”

Glimmer rolls her eyes. “Yeah but, I was like, seven when I met Bow.”

“Can’t believe you didn’t know how to draw a circle when you were seven.”

“Shut up,” Glimmer retorts, but she’s laughing, “actually, this is from before I met him. Here,” she points the date on top of the page.

Catra’s mind tingles with the memory of her first drawings, but she pushes it aside. “That’s creepy.”

“Fuck off,” she glances, “actually it was like— okay, so I used to joke about this sometimes with him, but before we met I had those crazy dreams and I swear there was a boy that looked like exactly him.” 

Catra’s hand tremble and she almost spills wine on the carpet. She settles the glass on the table, fast, and— what the fuck. 

“But you remember them?”

“Yeah, they were so elaborate. Like, I was a princess or something, and there was this really cool forest and somehow I was always there? I don’t remember much but I used to draw it because it was the only thing in my mind,” she slips her thumb on the drawing, “and sometimes I saw a boy and we would play together. Met Bow some years later, I think.”

Catra takes the glass to her lips.

“It’s crazy how children process things, you know?”, she pauses and smiles sadly, “My dad used to tell me the craziest stories and I think they just stuck with me, you know? I had already seen Bow in the city, I guess. But I still think it’s a cute story.” 

The tension in her shoulders starts to dissipate. Of course, that’s it— she’s heard this from her therapist, from her teacher, from every person that saw her recurrent drawings as a kid. Children hear stuff and absorb it— you never know how the information is going to come out. Glimmer heard stories and longed for a best friend. Catra felt that her life was falling apart. It made sense, for both of them, to have these kinds of dreams. Not out of normal, she learned in therapy. Just the way the brain works.

“I wish he was here.”

Catra pauses. “Who?”

Glimmer runs a hand through her hair, the purple beginning to fade.

“My dad, I think. But also Bow. I miss him.”

Catra fills Glimmer’s cup. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Maybe we can meet up at his house later this week. You’ll love his dads, they’re the best and they have a huge library in the house.”

“Yeah, they’ll probably want to see you. Bow once said that George and Lance always loved having you over.”

The next box that Glimmer opens is filled with old school books, but running through them doesn’t stop Catra from seeing the way Glimmer blushed at the mention of Bow’s dads.

“What’s that face?”

Glimmer raises her eyebrows. “What face?”

“You’re making a face.”

“I’m not—” she scoffs, turning to look at Catra, who tries to be as open as she can on listening to Glimmer. “Fine, but it’s stupid.”

In response, she pours what’s left in the bottle into Glimmer’s glass, who accepts it without a second thought.

“It’s been two years since I last came here, and Bow was with me the last time. I came back as his best friend.” She strokes her neck. “I guess I just had hopes that the next time I saw them I would be something else.” 

Catra’s heard this before. If she’s being honest, the first impression she had of them was that they were a couple. She remembers telling Glimmer this some weeks after they met and being surprised when Glimmer gasped, face burning red, as well as she remembers how small Glimmer sounded when she talked about her feelings for Bow. It’s not news to Catra, but this— the way Glimmer’s face saddens, fingers twitching while she looks at a picture of them, the rawness in the way she speaks— it will never fail to astound Catra.

“The summer is just beginning, you know,” offers Catra.

“I don’t think that it ever crossed his mind that I could feel that way about him.”

The sentence hangs in the air and there’s no more wine to fill their silence. Catra waits.

“But it’s worse. I mean, if he knows. Because that means that he’s well aware of my feelings, he just… doesn’t reciprocate them.”

Catra frowns. “You’re kidding me? Knowing you two, he could be thinking the exact same thing.”

“You think so?” 

“Yeah.”

Glimmer sighs, letting herself lay on the carpet— they’ve been at this long enough for there to be open space on the floor. The lamp hangs a little bit too angled above her and Catra’s getting more convinced that the place definitely needs some adjusts.

“I just have this feeling. It’s not like there were never other people, because there were. But, at the same time, it’s like it never left me. That it’s him. I don’t know what to do if it isn’t.”

Catra gets down on the carpet, lying across from Glimmer. 

“You keep on living, I guess.”

“Have you ever felt like that,” she pauses, and Catra already knows what’s coming, “with Scorpia?”

Catra doesn’t think about Scorpia in that light anymore— haven’t for a long time, at least. But still, some nights, the thought lingers. Not because she still feels something, but because she had hurt and messed up, even though they stayed friends afterward and Scorpia had moved on— Catra still has to live with herself, after all.

“I loved her,” she says, “but— I don’t know. I feel like an ass for saying that, but it just— there was something missing, you know? It just wasn’t her.”

Glimmer goes silent and Catra dwells on it— there isn’t much to think about, at last. For a moment, she thought she had it, the feeling everyone talked about. For a moment, she had— but it didn’t last. Maybe it was never supposed to last and, although Catra still feels a pang of guilt, there’s also the kind of emptiness that comes from searching for something she never learned the name for.

“I wish I didn’t care about this stuff.” 

It sounds like a confession. And, just because Glimmer can’t see her face and she could, theoretically, blame it on the wine, she adds, “Yeah. Me too.”

Sleeping came easily once she got used to the dreams. They were a constant, so there was no use trying to fight it— in fact, it got easier when she just accepted that there was no way out of it. She would lay down and drift off to sleep slowly, peacefully even— although there was no peace in the morning.

But tonight there’s alcohol on her system — there is a reason why she never was really a fan of it — and thoughts linger more than they should on the back of her mind. She thinks about Glimmer’s words, about the dreams she used to have, and her mind wanders back to the first time she saw them, moving together as they were in sync, looking at each other in a way she had never seen before.

She turns to look at the window. The crescent moon illuminates her room, and she dozes off trying to look at the stars, searching still. 

Drops of sunshine fall to the earth, turning gold the grass it touches. Catra’s in a field and, looking up, the sunset spreads all over the place, reaching as sunrays keep coming out of the sky. She raises her hand— it’s so close, maybe she can touch it. Her feet move before she does, going into the field and closer to the sun. It’s an ethereal view, she thinks. Everything is golden, truly golden, under the beaming sunlight. She has never seen anything like it— she doesn’t want to see anything else for the rest of her life. 

But— something is missing. She looks around and she knows this is perfect, but still— something’s missing. She doesn’t remember what and her head hurts when she tries to, so she looks further at the sun, takes in the whole meadow. Flowers are growing where the sun fell, golden petals brushing her calves. Looking down now, she’s in loose white shorts and a white blouse as well— silky, she feels, and it almost distracts her enough for Catra to forget that she’s looking for something. Sunrays keep falling and she’s not interested anymore.

She gets away from the sun. Far away, she sees the silhouette of a tree. Squeezing her eyes, there’s a girl as well. 

Her heart skips a beat and she’s running before she can even realize— she almost forgets the sky is falling above her. This feels like something, like a missing piece, as the girl gets closer and she can take her in— the flowy white jumpsuit, golden hair without being touched by the sun. She has the most angelic face Catra has ever seen— it doesn’t feel real. It shouldn’t be real. Catra’s sure that, even though sunshine is falling from the sky and gold is spreading through the meadow, this, here, as the girl looks at her with wide blue eyes, is the most beautiful sight she’s ever seen.

She stops a few feet away from Catra. 

Catra doesn’t even realize a ray of sunshine would drop right on her cheek when the girl gets closer and reaches her hand. It never touches Catra, but her chest strips open as if it did. 

“It was going to hurt you,” the girl says. 

“How is that possible? Look around,” she turns, “Everything is so beautiful here.” 

The girl is taller than Catra, but, dropping her shoulders, she seems too small. Her eyes fall and Catra follows them, stopping at her hands. The place where the drop fell turned into a gold spot, spreading through her hands. Her eyes are tired when she looks at Catra. “I told you it was going to hurt you.”

“So you let it hurt you instead?”

She frowns. “What else was I supposed to do?” 

Catra doesn’t hesitate in taking the girl’s hand between hers. She stiffs at first, but her hand softens against Catra’s touch. It fits, even though the gold burns her palm.

“I don’t mind some gold on my face.”

The girl takes a step closer. She raises her hands until they cup Catra’s face. It stings. Another drop falls to her face and, this time, it drips between her fingers until Catra’s face. She feels the burn under her right eye, but she doesn’t look away from the girl until she removes her hands.

“You look beautiful,” she breathes. She still hasn’t stepped away. 

There’s a moment in which Catra doubts. As if the wind told her something terrible is about to happen but— the girl has gold spreading through her collarbones and she doesn’t seem to mind it a bit. She’s wrapped around sunlight— Catra was wrong, she thinks. She’s not a distraction, she’s the reason why everything is happening. It all comes back to her, in the end. The sun follows her figure, stretching itself to make gold to her. 

If this is what was missing, Catra doesn’t want to wait longer. She steps forwards, hand midair to touch the girl’s face, and asks for her name— but she never reaches it. The earth is unsteady below her, rain suddenly pouring against her back. She doesn’t know where it came from— she can’t see anything past the cracks suddenly appearing underneath her, and the girl is getting away. The sun is no longer the beautiful midst of orange and pink it was before, glowing gold above the flowers. It got dark, deep blue around her, even though the gold remains. 

The girl has a hand stretched out to her, but the abyss starts to stare back at Catra. Her back burns like it never did before and it almost feels like she’s being petrified. It gets hard to move, heavy, but she still tries and reaches, and it still burns when the girl gets a hold of her. The ground comes undone underneath her feet and, this time, she’s the one falling.

When Catra wakes up, she’s screaming.

Catra wakes up with a headache. She doesn't remember the dream, but the pain is a reminder that it existed. There's the thought of going through her journal but she drops it as soon as Glimmer comes in, looking as radiant as ever, and tells her that they’re meeting Bow for lunch at his house. She doesn’t ask about Angella, and Glimmer doesn’t explain, so she lets herself get dragged out of the house into the streets of Bright Moon, now during daylight.

It’s not the hottest day, but the sun still hurts Catra’s back as they walk— Glimmer insisted that Catra got to know the neighborhood, walking around. Glimmer greets people here and there and Catra focuses on the colorful houses, flowers popping up everywhere she looks. Everything just feels like the scenery of a coming of age movie. Catra can see love blossoming here, or the possibility of it— not like she’s going to ever talk about how she thinks about it sometimes, stories enrolling behind her eyelids as she takes in the place. Romantic is not the best trait for her, but growing up without it does something to a girl.

“Should’ve brought my skates,” Glimmer mutters when they pass a group of kids rollerblading. 

Bow’s house is not that far away, given that Bright Moon is a tiny city, but she’s already feeling out of breath when they get there. The houses here are farther away from each other, almost hidden between the tall trees that almost cover the sky— the rustle of the trees is soothing and she breathes out as they get closer. The house is big, bigger than Glimmer’s even, and it looks more like a library than anything else. At the back of her mind, she remembers every time Bow mentioned his dads being historians, but she never imagined his house would be a literal library. 

Glimmer fidgets with her bracelet before she knocks, and Bow is already waiting for them. 

There’s a thing about Bow— he’s just so stupidly nice. She and Glimmer got off a rough start, but Bow? She remembers being annoyed at Glimmer and trying to do the same with Bow but he just wouldn’t let her. Didn’t take too long for her to give in and, some months later, she was walking around campus with a friendship bracelet on her wrist— two, if she counted Scorpia’s.

The house is even more enchanting on the inside, straight out of a fantasy book. Differing from Glimmer’s, the walls here are filled with maps and artifacts. She makes a note to take a better look at it after. 

Lunch goes easily, after all. Bow’s dads are sweethearts, just like him, and she suddenly gets where all that positive energy comes from. Lance spends the whole meal telling stories about Bow’s childhood— that Glimmer knows, because she was there, but Catra doesn’t miss the sparkles in her eyes while she hears it all over again— and George makes more puns than she ever thought it was possible. But that’s on being a dad, she thinks. Catra is quiet, always been like this around new people, but the way they welcome her makes it easier. 

When they’re finished, Lance leaves to find old photo albums, and Bow shrinks into the seat. Glimmer is in a lot of photos, but Catra marks the ones where he has bow and arrows as her favorites— ever.

“You would’ve been an amazing archer,” Lance tugs at Bow’s shoulder.

“Oh, please,” Glimmer retorts, “he almost blinded me once.”

“Everything takes practice.”

Catra laughs, “At least an eye patch would look cool.”

“Very pirate-y,” Bow adds.

That opens another section: Bow’s love for pirates. George and Lance go on and on until Bow is at a point of eating the table. The suggestion for a tour of the library comes in hand and Lance is beaming when they reach the door. 

If she was amazed by what she saw when she first entered the house, she’s awestruck now. The high walls have detailed maps and old newspapers about Bright Moon, photos around it, and piles of books divided by years and parts of town. She didn’t even know a city so small could have so much history. 

“This is incredible,” she says, fanning herself. She didn’t even realize the air is stuffy in here.

“It was one of my favorite places growing up,” Bow stops in front of a river map. “The stories really get to you.”

“Stories?”

Glimmer appears by her side. “Bright Moon has a lot of legends.”

George and Lance end up leaving them to it, once Bow’s already pointing and talking about the city. Catra stops in front of a painting of a lake, gleaming under the sunlight.

“There’s so many. It’s a weird city, sometimes,” Glimmer says, “I liked the one where the real founder of Bright Moon was a missing princess who found a way for her magic to be ingrained in the city since her real identity had to remain a secret. She gave up her abilities for the city. My aunt used to tell me that every time I saw a rainbow, it was her doing.”

Catra laughs, eyeing the tales’ section of the books. She pulls her hair in a ponytail while analyzing the titles. 

“That’s cheesy.”

“But it’s cute,” Bow completes. 

“I also liked the one about the girl on the hill.” 

Bow shrieks. “That one is too close to reality.”

“You’re afraid?”

Catra joins them on the couch. Glimmer has a book opened on her lap, several notes hanging between pages. She remembers Bow’s brothers— these books must have been read by all of them.

“What’s the story?”, she asks.

“It’s not that I’m afraid,” Bow starts, “but there’s something weird about it. Doesn’t sit well with me.”

“Tell me.”

“Okay, so. This goes since my mom was a kid. Bright Moon has lots of mountains and hills, but there’s one in specific that people started talking about being haunted. Normally people would look for these places and make picnics or whatever, but this one was never on the list because it wasn’t anything special, you know? Just a normal hill, kinda ugly. But someone built a house up there.”

Bow points to his arms. “Chills, literal chills.”

Catra elbows him as Glimmer glares. “Can I finish?”

“Go on.”

“So, everyone was curious about why they chose that hill and some people went up there, to chat with the owners and get a look at the house. They didn’t come back the same. Couldn’t even talk about it afterward, but one of them mentioned that a girl lived there. All by herself. Others followed the lead, but they didn’t come back. People say that it’s the ghost of a girl that was murdered there, many years ago. But, anyway, people don’t just go there.”

Catra blinks. “That’s it? Your scary story?”

“It is scary.”

“How can a ghost build a house—” 

“Is that what you took from the story?”

“Sorry, Sparkles,” she shrugs. “Seen worse.”

Bow scratches his chin. “The house is real. A big one, even. No one has gone up there for a while. Whoever lives there don’t come to town.”

“See,” Glimmer points, “suspicious.”

“On that side,” Bow adds, “the girl could be real, and just… reclused.”

“If they talked about it when your mom was a kid, that girl is probably old now. Dead even. Or maybe rich people who want a getaway, you never know.”

“Remind me to never let you pick anything for movie night, ever again.”

“I have great taste, okay.” 

Glimmer rolls her eyes, throwing herself on the armrest. Catra takes the book she was reading before, opened at the same image of the lake that’s on the wall.

“It’s a weird story, to say at least,” Bow voices, “and a sad one. Imagine living all alone.”

“What about this river?” She points to the book. “No tales?”

Glimmer sticks out her tongue. “Gonna let Bow tell you this one.”

His face lightens. “That’s the lake of hope. People say the sun fell on the water, once. Kinda like the princess of Bright Moon thing.”

Catra blinks. There’s a flash on her mind, but it goes away before she can grasp it. 

“That’s cool. Any chances there’s an actual lake made of sunlight here?”

Glimmer sits up. “The river crosses the city but flows to the lake on a farm on the east. It’s just a normal river. With normal water and stuff. It was actually a pretty beautiful place, but it’s not open to the public anymore.”

“How come?” 

“Whoever owns the farm doesn’t want anybody near it. Those are the rich ass people that don’t come to town.”

Bow looks at her. “Isn’t that the deal that your mom…?”

Catra watches as Glimmer’s shoulders stiffen, glassy eyes running through the room. She props her chin on her hand but still doesn’t look at them.

“Yeah, they were trying to sell it. But it didn’t go well, and she didn’t tell me why. She’s been weird since then.” 

The air is heavy in the room, now, and it’s not due to the velvet curtains and the hot weather. Glimmer’s still looking at the floor and Bow side-eyes Catra, but it’s clear to both of them that Angella is still a complicated subject.

Catra flips through the book, pausing on a painting of a tree. “What about this here?”

At that, Glimmer raises her head. 

“That’s a really cute story, too.”

This time, she almost agrees with Glimmer— but the story ends up being nonsense, so she scratches that. There’s a lot of others after, with Bright Moon being a strange city and all, with lots of creative people, it seems. She still enjoys it, forgetting about the heat for a while— the tales are kind of fun, even if none of them are true. And it’s always good to spend an afternoon with Bow and Glimmer, either way. The sun is already setting when they leave the library.

It doesn’t take long for Bow to get his things and they’re on their way to Glimmer’s house. Apparently, Bow’s dads were going on a trip next week to see Bow’s brothers, spread in the continent. Catra drags her steps through the concrete, taking her time to look at the sky. The pink matches the city, mixing itself with the orange clouds stretched over the houses. Ethereal, almost. There’s a lump on her throat that she doesn’t recognize, but she keeps on walking. 

“Where are you sleeping?”

Catra looks at the double mattress between the two couches. It’s big enough for her to pretend that she’s sleeping alone, but it’s still just one mattress for Glimmer to kick her on her sleep, or for Bow’s snoring to keep her up all night. She eyes the couch, flower patterns all over it. “There.”

Glimmer looks disconcerted, for a moment.

“I’ll take the mattress, then.”

In reality, there was another guest room for Bow to sleep in, but they agreed on the living room for tonight because, according to Bow, it’s been too long since they had a sleepover. She couldn’t say no.

Catra takes off her shoes, stepping on the carpet, and Glimmer follows her, sitting on the couch.

“That’s my bed.”

“Shut up.”

Her phone screen lights up. There’s a good night text from Scorpia, followed by a lot of emojis, and a selfie of Perfuma and her. She answers quickly, tapping on the app for Instagram next. Frosta sent her some posts, but, other than that, she scrolls impatiently at her feed.

“You’re okay?”

She looks up at Glimmer.

“Yeah,” she says, “why?”

“You seem distressed.”

Catra shrugs. “I’m not really tired.”

Glimmer squints at her, but, before she can make Catra talk about it, there’s a thud that comes from the bathroom, followed by Bow’s complaints— too much of a sweetheart to curse.

“Everything okay there?”, Glimmer raises her voice.

When Bow shows up in the living room, there’s dried paint on his hair. Catra chuckles.

“You have something up here,” she gestures to her own head.

Bow’s eye twitches. “Your house is trying to kill me.”

“That’s like, the whole reason we’re here,” Glimmer grumbles, “just use the bathroom upstairs.”

He leaves, sulking.

Catra turns to Glimmer.

“I think your house has a thing for Bow.”

“Fuck off.” She kicks Catra in the shin. “He distracted me. I was going to ask what’s up with you. I mean, I know you had a bad dream today, but still. If there’s more to it.”

She doesn’t recall giving Glimmer that bit of information, but okay. 

“I’m fine, just a little jumpy.”

“Jumpy?”

“Yeah. Jumpy.”

She goes back to her Instagram feed. Apparently, Spinnerella had just gotten a new haircut. She’s swiping to the next photo when Glimmer hits her with something— her eyes drop to the keys.

“You can take it for a ride if you want,” Glimmer shrugs, “I know driving usually calms you.”

“How do you know that?”

“You’re less cranky after you drive us somewhere.”

“First,” she raises a finger, “I’m never cranky. Second,” she eyes the corridor, Bow’s figure long gone, “you’re sure it’s okay if I go?”

Glimmer follows her eyes, sighing. Bow probably found the bathroom already, because they can’t hear him anymore.

“Don’t worry. I don’t think he will break any more of the house.” 

Catra knows that’s not what she was asking, but she grins anyways, going for the garage. Angella’s car is not here, and, apparently, it’s not going to be here for a while, since Glimmer put hers in. She fastens her seatbelt, starting the car and getting on the street with ease. Catra’s used to Glimmer’s car, after all, and even more with driving in general.

There’s a slight throbbing on her forehead, but she tries to ignore it. She’s just tired. Her dreams usually tire her out, even if she couldn’t remember them. Her body could, though. But that’s normal— always been like this, always will be. She’s just tired, she tells herself, from driving and cleaning up and walking around in the sun, sleeping in a new place. Even though unclear images pop on the corner of her mind, she ignores them as she races through the street.

Catra learned to drive when she was sixteen— too young, too reckless and too stubborn to actually listen to what Netossa was talking about safety and taking care of the car. She was angry, at the time, at things bigger than herself but she forced herself to learn it and pay attention to the rules and how to change tires so Netossa would finally trust Catra with her car— as much as she appreciated that Netossa would take her for a ride when her chest got heavy, she wanted to be alone, for once. 

She was never reckless, as much as she would want to, sometimes. And, even years later, anger being gone, it’s still what puts her at ease. She wouldn’t admit it to Glimmer, nor she was able to talk about it with Scorpia, but change— it was always a big thing for her. She grew up with few constants: her journal, her stuffed cat, the comfort of her scrappy blue blanket. She never enjoyed the fact that she was always moving, always starting at a new school, always being pushed center into crowd— overwhelmed, holding her breath, and scratching her arms. She tries not to do that anymore but— she drives, instead.

Bright Moon is wicked and sublime at night. Catra feels small, driving through the sinuous streets that seem to change as she moves; the city is quiet now, devoid of the usual chattering and scattered parties around the blocks. Silence was never her favorite thing but she doesn’t turn on the radio, focusing on the low rumble of the engine and rustle of the trees. Her windows are rolled down and night breeze is inviting, to say at least.

Catra lets herself enjoy it. She rolls her shoulders down, breathes out her mouth, and keeps her fingers from tapping the wheel. And she takes her time with it. 

The city pretty much looks all the same. The houses follow a common pattern of light colors, dull against the night sky, but the flowers stand out against every bit of it. Catra takes note of them, but she doesn’t hang enough for it to cause an impression. She’s soon leaving the neighborhood, speeding up a hill as Bright Moon gets smaller and smaller behind her. There will probably be a nice spot on top of it and she had always been fond of high places— always craved for it.

Catra is a good driver, and a careful one. She’s used to driving Netossa’s niece, Frosta, to school events when her parents were busy, and going around the town for Scorpia’s errands. Entrapta said once that her quick thinking was a fundamental part of it but now— Catra almost throws the car off the hill as her eyes burn all of a sudden, blinding light against the windows. She slams the brakes, turning the wheel and the car spins, tires screeching against the asphalt, landing crossed in the middle of the street, and she can’t breathe and know if she accidentally hit someone even though she didn’t feel a hit, because something definitely came out of nowhere and— 

In front of her car, staring at her, there’s a girl— riding a fucking horse, because things couldn’t get weirder. Catra almost rubs her eyes, because it’s so— 

Today’s a full moon, high on the sky and illuminating the road, casting shadows underneath the trees. The flowers glow. Ahead of her, so does the girl. Catra blinks, heart ripping out of her chest and— no, she’s not glowing, but— Catra’s eyes are fast in analyzing the girl in front of her, going from the shoes up until the pale horrified face under the moonlight, and— she blinks again because the girl is reflecting the light. It's gold, the whole thing— the clothes and the shoes and even the girl's hair seems to be golden and Catra is pretty sure she's dreaming right now, because that would be the only explanation for someone who looks like a fucking knight to be right here, right now, right in front of her.

But— it's quick. Her breathing is still getting even when the girl pulls the horse's reins and turns back. She runs into the night, a flash of gold, and Catra's left with the girl's petrified look burning behind her eyes. Her hands tremble. Just like that, she's gone, and Catra's alone. She blinks, dark spots on her vision because this is a nightmare, she will wake up and write on her journal and that will be it. But—

Catra pinches herself, counts her fingers, looks at herself in the mirror and she's still here, in the middle of the road marked by her tires. She’s not dreaming, but flashes burn in front of her— gold, beaming like in her dream, reflecting the moonlight, the sky getting dark as she fell, while the girl tried to hold her back up. She chokes— the girl. Waking up screaming as Glimmer ran to her room. Catra shakes her head. She backs up, spins the car again, and exceeds the speed limit until she gets back to Glimmer's house.

She wishes she could forget the girl's face when she goes to sleep. She doesn't.

Catra doesn’t remember the exact moment she got home and crashed, but she wakes up with a sore back and burning pain on her back every time she tries to move. The couch was not a good decision, and, looking back now, for the sake of her back, she could’ve put up with Bow’s snoring— she was so tired she didn’t even dream, for once.

She shouldn’t act surprised that Bow and Glimmer ended up cuddling, but she doesn’t roll her eyes like she once would’ve. Whatever it’s going on between them, Catra feels happy. It’s a sweet thing to wake up to, at least— it takes only a moment for Catra to blink and flashes from last night come to her. The girl, the gold, the almost falling off a cliff— the dream that she did not recall, the way the girl looked horrified at the sight of Catra. She tries to put things together in a more rational way— what would a girl on a horse be doing on top of a hill at midnight? Maybe Catra had imagined the whole thing, though she discards that fast enough. She saw the tires mark on the concrete, even though the girl vanished.

Bright Moon is a strange city.

With the dream’s remains burning bright to her, she gets up from the couch, slowly enough not to wake up Glimmer and Bow, and tiptoes until the bedroom that she was supposed to stay on. The wood creaks underneath her floaty steps, as an old house obviously would, but that doesn’t seem to startle her cuddling friends. Pushing the door slightly, she goes directly to the bedstand, where she had kept her journal, opening on the most recent entry. It’s always difficult to read it the day after— she never had the prettiest handwriting in class, but she did her best for it to be readable, at least. It doesn’t matter, in the end, because writing right after dreams always left the pages smudged, wrinkling sometimes, and she had to squint to try and understand it. On bad days, the pen ripped through the paper as the words spilled off her.

Catra vaguely recalls the scream on her throat as her fingers touch the hole on the paper. 

It’s messy, but it’s there, as she tries to remember— the perfect meadow in a hidden paradise, along with the searching, the golden girl, and the falling. Her head throbs and she should definitely have taken some medicine last night, but she can’t stop reading. Sometimes, her dreams fascinated her; just how much her mind could create and make her believe in that. There was even a time in which she had attempted to make good use of that and write something other than just dream reports, and that captivated her teacher. But now— she feels sick to her stomach, waves of feelings coming back to her at once. It’s cruel for the universe to give her something that seems so real and take it back at the last minute, only to reveal that it existed only in her mind— and, still, she has to live through the consequences of it as if it had been real.

The after hurts, so she drops the journal on the bed and tries to steady her breath. Inhaling, holding in, and exhaling, like Perfuma does with her when she’s spending the night and Catra happens to have one of those— not like she’s really proud of that, still. She tries to make the logical way out of it: the girl reminded of her dream, and that was it. Her dreams were always painful, so that leaves her here; whatever the girl was doing or whoever she is, dressed in gold like a knight, doesn’t matter to Catra— it was just a reaction.

Catra places her journal inside the drawer and makes her way downstairs for her phone. Glimmer’s still sleeping, despite Bow’s snoring not getting any lower. She checks the time: nine in the morning. Later than she usually wakes up, but she’s supposed to be on vacation. The morning light is a good look at the living room furnished with dark wood, along with the cream curtains that try to filter it. Dust flies where the sun hits and Catra knows that, if they don’t clean the room soon, her allergies will start acting up.

She opens the notes app and puts cleaning on one file. Moving to another, she writes about her reaction and the logical reasons behind it. Normally, the notes app wasn’t her go-to, but it’s too early to text Scorpia knowing that, if she ends up seeing it, she will call Catra right away, and Catra’s not sure she can talk about it right now— she’s still trying to process it. Plus, she knows Perfuma slept over and she doesn’t want to be a nuisance to them; she will call Scorpia in the afternoon. But, as her stomach growls, so she settles on looking around the kitchen for something to eat.

Catra gets an apple and looks over the kitchen window. She’s distracted enough to jump when something suddenly jolters behind her. 

“Fuck,” she lets out, staring at Glimmer, “you scared me.”

“I’m stretching. Ugh, that mattress is the worst. Remind me why we couldn’t sleep in beds like normal people?”

“You and Bow are softies.”

“I hate it.”

“You don’t, Sparkles.”

Glimmer rolls her eyes, but grunts at it.

“What are you even doing up, anyway?” She tries to reach her toes but stops midway. “I didn’t even see you getting back last night.”

“Eh, I didn’t take long, but you guys were already knocked out when I got here.”

“You can sleep more if you want to,” she moves to one of the counters, grabbing a mug. “Today the construction guys won’t be here until noon. Until then, no loud noises.”

Bow’s still snoring in the living room. Catra takes note of the kitchen— dark wood, like every other corner of the house, but she kinda likes that. It gives certain coziness and warmth, something Catra could really use, always. She wonders what are the plans for the house, but her brain is still waking up for her to ask about it, especially knowing that Glimmer is not a fan of chit chat first thing in the morning. Later, she will— and that later involves the coffee that Glimmer is making right now.

She stretches out her own arms while Glimmer hums at herself. Catra doesn’t recognize the song.

“You,” she drawls, “are awfully chatty today.”

Glimmer turns her head slightly. “Uh?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m doing my usual amount of talking.”

“Please. Your morning behavior consists of grunts, groans, and eventual snapping.”

The smell of coffee doesn’t take long to spread through the kitchen. Catra gets another mug from the counter and stares as she realizes it’s one with a picture of Glimmer and best girl ever! written above it.

“Your major isn’t psychology, you know.”

“I’m just being open,” she chimes, “and communicative. Non-violent communication and all of that.”

Glimmer doesn’t even turn to look at Catra, shaking her head instead.

“While dragging the attention to something other than yourself. How clever.”

“Who’s the psychology major now?”

She gives her mug to Glimmer, who fills it with not so steady hands and slides it back to her. She takes it like that, bitterness is familiar on her tongue, while Glimmer scrunches her nose and pours sugar into her mug. 

“That ruins it.”

“It doesn’t.”

Bow’s snoring gets louder. Catra sips again, eyes fixating on the chipped counter. She pretends she doesn’t see the way Glimmer looks at her, and then at the living room, and then at her again.

“We talked—”

Catra quirks her eyebrows. “For real?”

“No, like. We talked about my mom. And he talked about his dads. And I feel a little lighter, that’s it.”

“I didn’t know if you would want to talk about it yesterday,” she confesses, “so I didn’t ask.”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t.” Glimmer places her mug on the sink. “Just happened, I guess. You know, with his dads going to travel soon and stuff. Came up. Plus, not much to talk about. My mom is a big thing now and it just ends up taking a lot of space in her life, and she somehow gets the most difficult clients. I swear I saw silver on her head.”

Catra’s not sure what she can say with her brain operating at half the potential, but she’s also not sure Glimmer wants to hear something. It’s tricky, sometimes. So, she props her head on her chin and mumbles: “That sucks.”

Glimmer laughs, looking at her cellphone. “Yeah. But, whatever. I was thinking of finishing up those boxes today and cleaning the living room. There’s another week until we start the renovations inside but I don’t wanna be late.”

“Your mom left you a calendar or something?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“Works for me.” Catra gets up. “Not like I had plans on the city that I’ve never been to and only know two people, y’know?”

“Who knows,” Glimmer shrugs, “you didn’t meet anyone last night?”

“I went for a drive. On a Thursday. ”

“Lots of places open on a Thursday.”

“Did you see what I was wearing? I could pull it off, obviously, but still —” 

“Oh, please, you know that I keep a spare dress on the back.”

“I don’t do dresses.”

Glimmer rolls her eyes— apparently, that’s all she does when talking to Catra.

“You brought me here to hook me up with someone or whatever?”

“No, jackass. But it could be, y’know, fun. Girls here are really pretty.”

“Okay, you know what,” she gets up, laying her mug in the sink, “I can’t have this conversation right now. It’s too early for this.”

“Just saying, I have some friends here—”

Catra drags her hands on her face. “I don’t need for you to set me up, God, you’re offending me and my dating life.”

Bow is starting to wake up, Catra realizes as the snoring stops suddenly. If he decides to join them, she will be hearing about how she needs to get herself out there and try again. And, as much as she cherishes her friends and their concern for her well being, she will avoid the conversation until her last breath.

“You are,” Glimmer starts, huffing, “so fucking dramatic.” 

But she’s already racing through the stairs. “I try my best, Sparkles.”