Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Fuck!” Catra yells. She half heartedly tears through her desk again, but it’s no use. She’s already searched her room top and bottom and it’s still gone. 

She’s so fucking tired. Catra wants to cry, but everytime she tries to summon the energy to pull up a few tears she just feels a bone deep exhaustion that leaves her on the precipice of intense frustration and the urge to blow something up.

So she’s screaming, because that’s all she can do, and is probably alarming the neighbors but Catra can’t give a fuck right now. 

It was her favorite pencil sharpener. She found it in a little pouch meant to hold pens at Goodwill, and she’s been using it ever since. There were others, but she just liked that one, She didn’t want one of those big fancy electrical ones, even though they were probably much faster and less strenuous on her wrist. She knew there were a million little sharpeners that did the job just as well if she would only pick her sobbing ass off the floor and go to the store to buy one. She likes that one, and that one only. 

It was probably unwise for an art student to only have one sharpener. It was probably unwise to emotionally attach herself to one, for that matter. This was bound to happen, and yet losing it ticked her off in a way she hadn’t anticipated. 

Two hours before she was working herself up to a meltdown, furiously swearing as she cleared her desk and scanning for the little metal object. After an hour of searching she couldn't resist the tension building up inside her and hurt herself again, breaking her one week streak of being clean. 

Great.

Now she’s gotta wear long sleeves again, and it’s the middle of the fucking summer. Fuck. 

Currently she’s walking around unstably like a drunk, bumping into walls and hoping it will take the edge off of the urge. 

After running into a few walls and comforting herself by digging her nails into her shoulders and neck, she grabs her phone thrown haphazardly on the couch and forces herself to sink into the cushions. She glares at her tear streaked reflection, and impulsively does something she swore to herself she would never do. 

Because riding down the high of a meltdown tends to lower her inhibitions, she makes a very bad decision and calls Adora. 

* * * 

Adora was clacking away on her laptop, trying to finish her 20k word essay, when her phone rings. 

This isn’t an uncommon occurrence. Bow and Glimmer are more the type to call than text, and as much as she enjoys talking to her friends she really wishes they could be more sensitive about her work hours. 

She prepares to decline the call (and shoot them a text in the group chat so Glimmer doesn’t bite off her head), but realizes it’s in the tone that she set specifically for Catra. 

Adora slams her laptop shut and scrambles to answer the call. 

Catra hadn’t called in three years, or even contacted her. At first, she answered Adora’s desperate calls with sneering insults and cutting wit that used to be never directed at Adora. She did finally block her, but Adora still kept her contact in hope that something like this might happen. 

What is this, exactly? Catra doesn’t have any reason to call her, or need her, or have anything to do with her. She made that abundantly clear to Adora when they… parted ways. So why would she be calling now? 

Oh god, it’s because she got hurt, wasn’t it? Maybe her friend Scorpion or Scorpio or whatever was calling Adora to let her know Catra was in a car crash and she’s in the hospital, and she’s on life support and on the edge of - no, it’s probably going to be fine. Probably. 

With a shaky voice, she says, “Catra?”

* * * 

Adora picks up on the second ring. Catra never had any doubt that she would pick up, but it’s still relieving. 

“Catra?” Adora says. Her voice - god, how Catra missed her voice - shakes slightly and is filled with trepidation, but sounds hopeful. She hadn’t heard Adora say her name in three years, so sue her if she closes her eyes and lets out a small sigh. 

She’s not sure how to respond, (how in the hell would she respond anyway? The last time they spoke Catra was telling Adora she was a pushover and a slut for external validation) so she just yells, “I LOST MY PENCIL SHARPENER.”

* * *

Catra yells, “I LOST MY PENCIL SHARPENER.” 

Adora blinks. “What?” 

“I LOST MY PENCIL SHARPENER!” she yells again. Adora feels like she’s gotten whiplash, but pushes down her confusion when she notices an edge of real panic in Catra’s voice that Adora would have missed if she hadn’t known her so long. 

“Okay, um, what does it look like?”

“It’s metal and like, has two holes and it’s hand held and I fucking lost it and it’s gone. ”

“I can buy you a new one?” Adora timidly offers.

“No! I only want that one! Besides I don’t even know the fucking brand, I just found it in a pencil pounch at Goodwill and it was the best sharpener I ever had,” Catra insists. “I only like that one, I know there's a bunch more out there but I don’t want any of those, I just want my old sharpener back,” she sobs. 

“Scorpia’s” -oh, so that’s her name- “already ordered another one on Amazon but it’s not the same, I just know it, and the ones at Walgreens are all the plastic shitty ones that do jackshit and goddammit I’m such a fucking idiot, this is all my fault!” Catra must be really upset if she’s just blamed herself for something. 

Adora’s not that sure why an object would provoke such an emotional outburst, but she’s coming to the creeping realization that it’s not exactly the lost sharpener she’s so upset about. 

“Catra, slow down, okay? Take a deep breath,” Adora says. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Catra mutters. Still, after a pause, Adora can hear her sucking in ragged breaths over the phone. 

* * *

After a minute, Catra starts to explain without prompt. “It was my favorite. I’m guessing it was probably pretty old, but it worked well and I just kept it. I don’t know why I only liked to use that one, and I know I could just buy another one for like, less than a buck. It was special to me,” she says softly. It feels like admitting a crime. “I loved it and I took it for granted, and I didn’t pay it any mind but it was always there when I needed yo - it, and then next thing I knew it was gone.” Her voice cracks with something akin to guilt.

“I just want it back!” she bursts out. “I miss you so fucking much and I just… I just wish it’d come back.” 

* * *

Adora doesn't know what to say. Her heart stutters at Catra's confession, which is admittedly accidental. Still. 

"You miss me?" Adora says softly. 

Catra lets out a strained chuckle. "That's what you're focusing on?" she says wryly. 

Adora can imagine Catra's mouth twisting into a smirk. "Yeah." she says. She doesn't bother hiding her smile, and knows that Catra can probably tell through her tone, but she doesn't care. Catra misses her. Holy shit. 

"Yeah," Catra says. "I miss you, dummy." 

"I miss you too," she says back softly. lt feels any louder will break the spell and the moment will be over, this delicate rope they’ve finally found balance on. 

None of them say anything for a few beats, just listening to the sound of their breathing over the phone. 

"Hey,” Adora hesitantly says. "Wanna come over?" 

Catra feels a genuine smile break out, for the first time in three years. "Yeah."

Chapter Text

After texting Catra her address, Adora waits and tidies up her room. Or more accurately, flits nervously around her apartment and picks things up and puts them back down because she’s a ball of nerves and is practically vibrating with nervous energy. 

When Catra rings her doorbell, she hops about a foot in the air. Her heart is beating so loudly it feels like it’s about to jump out of her chest. “Okay Adora, you got this,” she says to yourself. “It’s just Catra. Who you haven’t seen in three years. This is the first time you’ll be seeing her. No pressure.” After that incredibly uplifting pep talk, she swings the door open. Catra. 

She looks… wow. She’s wearing a dark grey hoodie with a red motif, and black skinny jeans which have no right looking that good on anyone ever. 

The hair’s new. Last time Adora saw it, it was nearly down to her waist, wild and messy and beautiful. Now it’s choppily cut, still wild and messy and beautiful and so Catra. 

Adora meets her eyes, and it’s like she can finally breathe again. 

“Hey Adora,” she says. 

“Catra! Come in!” Adora says, voice slightly shrill. She realizes that she’s still blocking the door, and hastily moves out of the way. Catra huffs a laugh as she steps in, glancing at Adora with a knowing look in her eyes that makes her a little confused. 

“Your voice still gets shrill when you’re nervous,” she explains. 

"Oh." Her face reddens, and Catra laughs. 

"So! Um, you wanna drink? Or," she trails off, frantically thinking of anything else Catra might like. 

"Adora, chill," she says. "It's just me." Right. Just her. Just Catra, her ex-best friend and ex- something. Chill. She can be chill. 

"Look,” Catra says. For the first time, her voice sounds uncomfortable. "I know this must have been a surprise, me calling you like that. I know it wasn't really fair." She wraps her arms around herself in an unexpected show of vulnerability. Catra straightens up. "I just, I really want to talk to you, if that's okay." 

"Of course it is," Adora says. "I wanna talk to you too." Catra smiles at her, and for a moment all feels right in the world. 

* * * 

And so they do. They talk about nothing and everything, and they fit together as seamlessly as they did three years ago as if they never left each other. Catra’s legs end up in Adora’s lap, her hands draped over Catra’s shins. Several times Adora catches herself staring at Catra, enraptured with the way her face lights up whenever she gets passionate about something. Her heart feels like it’s going to burst. She's so distracted by how happy she is that she doesn't fully pay attention until Catra nudges her shoulder. "Adora, are you even listening to what I'm saying?" 

"Uh, yes I am," she says indignantly. She wasn't. "I'm totally listening." 

"What did I just say?" Catra challenges. 

"Oh, uh, ...'what did I just say?'" she says weakly. 

Catra laughs, and fuck. Adora wants to bottle it and get drunk on her laugh, the way it's rough around the edges and catches on a squeak at the end. 

"I was saying how Entrapta's trying to build a robot, and she's already named it Emily," she says. Catra shakes her head ruefully. "She gets so excited and leaves her shit all over the place, but," she shrugs. "Whatever. It makes her happy." 

“Wow, you actually care? That is so embarrassing for you!” Adora teases. She lightly shoves Catra in the shoulder, and Catra shoves back twice as hard. Soon they are wrestling like they’re 8 years old again, tickling and grabbing and trying to pin down the other. 

* * * 

Catra ends up on top, holding a forearm across Adora's throat and pinning her arms beneath her knees. “I win,” she says gloatingly.  

Adora doesn’t reply, her face red and with an emotion that Catra can’t quite name. Suddenly, Catra realizes their position and grows red herself. Right. 

She clambers off Adora’s chest and tries not to think about how warm or soft or comforting Adora feels beneath her, how she would like to stay on top of her a little longer. 

She had done her best to avoid any awkward moments, pushing down her nervousness and acting as if the last three year never happened. But now she’s fucked up again, and didn’t respect any physical boundaries (god forbid she become like Scorpia) and Adora is probably incredibly uncomfortable and she should just leave and try to wipe this memory from her mind and fuck she needs a release- 

“Catra?” she hears. “You okay? You were kinda zoning out,” someone says. Adora’s worried face swims in front of her vision. Catra blinks rapidly and looks up. 

“What? I’m fine,” she says brusquely. 

* * *

“What? I’m fine,” Catra says. Adora doesn’t think so. She’s avoiding her eyes and her mouth is in a tight line. Adora doesn’t push. She doesn’t want to ruin this moment and risk Catra leaving. 

Still, she’s been a little worried. As wonderful as it was to see Catra, somehow she seems off, lost pencil sharpener not withstanding. More muted, somehow. Tired. 

* * * 

They move back to the couch. There’s now a foot distance between them, a stark contrast to their closeness only ten minutes earlier. For the first time, there is a stiff silence. 

Fuck, Catra thinks to herself. Fuck fuck fuck. This is all her fault. It was going along so well, then she just had to screw it up like everything else she did. She can only ruin things. Like how she ruined things with Adora, and hurt Scorpia, and belittled Entrapts. She can never get better, she never learns. Guilt curdles in her stomach and suddenly Catra desperately wishes for some kind of blade. 

* * * 

Catra left soon after, looking more and more closed off as the minutes wore on. Finally they exchanged stiff goodbyes and nice-to-see-you-agains. The resounding click of the door made Adora flinch. 

She returns back in front of her computer, knowing that the practical thing to do was to finish her essay. She can’t, however. Adora runs through every moment of their interactions through her mind, savoring it and mulling over it and frantically thinking of what she did wrong. 

Overcome with the need to tell someone, lest she burst, she shoots Bow and Glimmer a text. Glimmer immediately responds. 

Adora

Help i think i messed up

Glimmer

what did you do this time

Adora

Akshfkdaish what do you mean ‘this time’ 

Anyway i think i upset catra 

Glimmer

wait wait wait

CATRA

the one whos ur enemy?

Adora

Shes not my enemy glimmer

Glimmer

she basically broke up w you 

Adora decides to ignore that--

Glimmer

after u told her u were going to bmu plus she hurt u a lot

--but this she needs to clear up with Glimmer. 

Adora 

Ik she was kind of mean but shes just like that and also we were bestfriends our whole lives and we have a lot of history so honestly i was kind of an asshole as well

Glimmer

you had every right to go to whatever college you wanted adora!! its UR future!! 

Adora

Can we get back to the topic at hand pls

Glimmer

ugh fine

Adora

She called me abt losing her pencil sharpener and then she came over and we were wrestling and then she got rlly upset and idk why and she left and i think i did something

Glimmer

... 

let me get this straight

she called u after THREE yrs because she lost her pencil shaprneer 

Adora

That abt sums it up yes

Glimmer

im not gonna get mixed up in ur weird dynamics

but based on what u told me

which is a mess btw 

u didnt do anything wrong she just has her own problems, which she has a LOT of

Adora

Glimmer thats not nice

Glimmer

ughh sorryyy 

but its not ur fault adora 

im sure u can just ask her abt it tmrw 

wow im so good at giing advice im liek bow now

Bow 

How are you like me?

Glimmer

great you literally came right after we need ur advice

Bow

I can still give it? What do you need advice on? 

Also 

Who am I giving advice to

Glimmer

adora thinks she made catra upset but she didnt actually and is just being a dumbass as usual

Bow

Wait CATRA Catra?

Adora

We are not gonna get into this again

Serioulsy guys how many catras do any of us know

Bow

Okayy

Well if Glimmer didn’t think Adora did anything wrong, then she didn’t

My work here is done

Adora

Seeing as how glimmer still thinks shes right after the Coffee Incident ™ i dont think shes the most reliable judge

Chapter Text

Catra manages not to hurt herself for the second time that day. 

Doing nothing had never been so difficult. 

“This is fine,” she had repeated to herself. “I’m fine. Don’t be so fucking weak.”

She thinks about finishing her drawing assignment to distract herself, but remembers her lost pencil sharpener and quickly abandons the idea when she feels a sharp burst of rage rising in her chest at the thought. 

Catra ends up taking a nap, worn out by the day’s events. She wakes up a few hours later to Scorpia calling her name outside the door. “Wildcat! We got tiny pancakes!” Catra groans and shoves her face in the pillow. At least Scorpia didn’t come barging in like she used to. She means well, but it can be too much. 

“Coming,” she mumbles. 

“WHAT?” 

“I’m coming!” Catra yells. She drags herself out of bed and changes into fresh clothes, padding to the door and opening it to Scorpia’s beaming face and a takeout container. 

“Catra! We got pancakes!”

“I heard,” she grumped. Nevertheless, she lightly punches Scorpia in the shoulder as thanks as they walk to their tiny kitchen where Entrapta is busy taking apart the microwave. 

“I thought you were working on Emily,” Catra notes. 

“I am!” Entrapta chirps. “I simply need the magnetron tube from this little machine, which emits electrons from a hot cathode and whirls past resonant cavities that are part of the anode at speeds that generate microwave energy!” 

“Translate. Please,” Catra adds. 

“Small metal box. Generates energy for microwave. Microwave makes food hot,” Entrapta says slowly. “I require this so Emily can have radiation abilities, maybe even shoot beams of concentrated heat. Oh, this is so exciting!” With that, she turns back to dismantling the poor machine. She carries on without a flinch when a small fire starts, absent mindedly patting it out while working with her other hand. 

Because Catra is trying to be a better friend, she says with full sincerity, “That’s pretty cool, Entrapta. Just don’t touch the coffee machine.” 

She and Scorpia manage to coax Entrapta away from the microwave, and they settle on their tiny table to eat. Entrapta eats each coin sized pancake one by one after meticulously drizzling a dot of syrup on each, while Scorpia rambles about her day with Catra occasionally interjecting. 

“Wildcat, what about you?” Scorpia shakes her head at herself. “Gosh, I’ve been talking about myself all dinner. What have you been up to today?”

She is wholly unprepared for the question but manages not to let any emotion flicker across her face. Shrugging nonchalantly, she says, “Just hung out. I’m almost done with my portfolio.” 

Scorpia didn’t witness Catra’s little breakdown earlier. She had only texted her a photo of the one she lost and asked her to order one similar on Amazon. Scorpia, bless her eager to please heart, had done so without question. She just gave her a little thumbs up emoji when she placed the order. 

Catra doesn’t elaborate on any more. Surprisingly Scorpia doesn’t pry, probably sensing that Catra doesn't want to talk about it and trying to be more sensitive about boundaries. 

“That’s great, Wildcat. Wow, you’re gonna have to let me see it sometime, you’ve been working on it so long. I bet it’s amazing, your professors are gonna be blown away,” Scorpia says. 

“Of course they are,” Catra scoffs. “Old Hordak will wonder why he ever thought he could call himself an artist when I exist. And I’ll let you see some of it,” she promises. “You too, Entrapta.” 

They squeal their excitement as Catra finishes her food and leaves the table. 

* * * 

Three days goes by without any contact from Catra. Adora is torn between desperately staring at her phone all day waiting for Catra to call or throwing herself into her work to distract herself from any unwanted thoughts or feelings. 

She chooses to compromise by working all day but having her phone right next to her laptop, even though the ringtone she set for Catra is the loudest option and her volume is set as high as possible. There’s going to be a chance that she might miss Catra’s call with her phone literally more than six inches away, and Adora isn’t willing to take those odds. 

For some reason, she can’t get into that ‘hyper focused’ state, as Bow calls it. She could get five assignments done within two hours in that zone, and she’s done it before. But for some reason, Adora’s been distracted these past few days. She can’t seem to concentrate or get anything done. Instead, Adora nervously checks her phone every five minutes while staring blankly at her computer screen and simultaneously wracking her brain for anything that she might type for her essay and what to say to Catra. 

She’s just settling on a simple “Hey catra” before Catra beats her to it with a “hey adora.”

Catra

Hey Adora.

Adora stares down at her phone. 

Adora

Catra!! Hiihi :)))

How are you

Im totally working on my essay rn and im being super super productive

Catra

Chill, you’re acting weird.

Adora

No im nottt 

Ur weird

Catra

Whatever you say, dummy. 

Okay, now Adora’s kind of concerned. Catra would never concede to something this quickly. She quips and bites and drags it along until you’re forced to agree or they wrestle each other into submission. But Catra never backs down. Never. 

Adora

Are you okay

Three dots indicate her typing, then disappears. It starts up again for a few minutes until Catra types out “ I’m fine.” 

Catra

… 

I’m fine. 

Adora

Sure

Catra

Seriously, I am. Stop worrying your little hair poof about it. 

Adora

For ur infomaiton my hairs down rn

Catra

Call the papers, mark the date. This is one for the history books.

Adora

Ive actually started to have my hair down more often lately

* * * 

Catra looks away from her phone, guilt coloring her face. Here was another thing she didn’t know about Adora anymore. She’d always kept her hair in a tight, pragmatic ponytail, never taking it out even in her sleep. Catra used to tease that she’d be bald before her thirties. And now here she was, leaving her hair down for no apparent reason other than just for the sake of it. 

Catra

When since did you start putting your hair down?

Adora

Abt a yr ago actually, i couldnt stand bow and glimmers nagging anymore

So it was her new sparkly friends that brought this on. She felt her jealousy rearing its ugly head, and pushed it down. No. She should be happy that Adora found new friends who apparently instilled healthier habits in her, even though Catra mentally bristles at feeling replaced. 

Catra

Nice nicknames. 

Adora

Those are their real names actually akjsdhfkjhd

Catra

I hope you’re kidding right now.

Adora

Nope akhkadj

Catra

We’re definitely gonna talk about why in the world you chose to have friends with such stupid names. 

What the hell is up with those key smashes, by the way?

Adora

Im gay?

Catra

Yes, and the sky is blue you idiot. 

Adora

No its like

Apparently its a gay thing? Queer ppl do it a lot

Catra hadn’t known this. Maybe she’s been hanging around Entrapta too much and needs to reintroduce herself back to the popular internet to learn social customs. 

Catra

Oh. 

How do you do it?

Adora 

Just press anything

Catra

7. 

* * * 

They texted for an hour until Adora talked about her plans with Boy Toy and Sparkles soon. Immediately following that, a voice in her head snarled to her, she’s abandoning you. Rejected again for her new friends. You’re never going to be good enough for her to stay. It was right, obviously, so Catra quickly excused herself and went to sulk for the foreseeable rest of the day. 

* * * 

Adora is a little bummed at Catra’s abrupt goodbye. She doesn’t know what she did to make Catra leave all of a sudden, and she hates feeling clueless. She would’ve known, three years ago. She knew everything about Catra, every tick and every trigger. Adora knew Catra like the back of her own hand. Even better, in fact. 

Now it feels like she’s suddenly been dunked in water and is scrambling for purchase, any sort of familiarity to ground herself on 

Catra’s always been an enigma, a paradox of sorts, and that was when Adora knew her well. 

Fiercely loyal, but single mindedly ambitious.

Always had a bit of a bleeding heart for the underdogs, but willing to use the ends to justify the means. 

Goddammit, Adora can’t figure her out.

Adora

Yea anyway im meeting with bow and glimmer later for dinner were gonna go to this awesome restaurant with rlly good fries and im gonna watch them flirt and edge around each other like they have for the all 13 yrs they knew each other

Catra

Sure.

Hope you have fun.

Adora

Thank youu :))

Catra

Tell Boy Toy and Glitter that their names are stupid.

Anyways I gotta go, Entrapta wants me to find a six sided hex driver.

Adora

Oh 

Whats that?

Nvm

Akhdkahhjhi

Bye?

Ttyl <3333333j38289

She’d mentioned offhandedly that they were going to meet later. Truthfully, Adora was thinking of calling off their plans if only to talk to Catra a little while longer. 

She might have also been plotting how to ask Catra over again, willfully ignoring the intrusive memory of how it ended, but she’d never found a right time to ask in the time they texted today. 

Maybe tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Catra silently fumes. Which is funny, because most of her fuming involves some sort of physical destruction, but Catra has a self imposed rule that she’s allotted at most one destructive tantrum a week and she’d already used it up over her pencil sharpener. Plus, she’s a broke college student and her furniture couldn’t really handle any more throwing. 

So there she is. In her bedroom, gazing tiredly around at dented walls and skid marks, chipped chairs and paint. Only her drawing tablet is untouched, because it was a bitch trying to pull up enough funds to buy it and destroying that would be financial suicide. 

Of course, taking it out on herself instead of the chair was always an option, but oddly enough the urge isn't as strong as it would be. 

She did snap a rubber band against her wrist until it was red and raw, but since she saw it on a list of coping mechanisms for self harm it doesn’t count. 

(It held off the feeling.)

(It’s going to come back.)

Catra spends the rest of her time stewing on Adora’s perfect prissy little friends with their stupid prissy little names who were apparently better than her. But then again, Adora deserved better. Adora deserved better than her. And if her new friends can provide that, then so be it. 

Catra knows she hurt her, and everyday she is paying the price for it. 

She’s caught between the dichotomy of being furious that Adora had replaced her and feeling guilty that Adora felt the need to replace her in the first place. Catra was a horrible, fucked up person who was selfish and bratty. She doesn’t deserve anything, least of all Adora. Adora, who is perfect and kind and so good. Too good for this horrible, broken world. 

Too good for Catra. 

Goddammit, she was right to leave. 

Emotion wells up in her chest, unbidden, sharp and stabbing. Catra lets out a broken sob. 

She misses Adora, her absence viscerally and painfully deep. Everyday feel too raw, too delicate without Adora.

Her heart has always been fragile. People thought she was cold and rude, but only because she'd built up walls to protect it. From the moment they met, she gave Adora the key and let her in without a second thought. Probably without a thought. Loving Adora was innate, written in her coding, carved in the marrow of her bones.

And now her heart feels irreparable, harsh and jagged and broken. 

She's sobbing so hard that her chest hurts now, aching with a sort of hollowness that only comes from missing someone. 

Good. 

She should feel this way, for how she had hurt Adora and having the audacity to be jealous of her new friends. 

She doesn't even deserve to miss her, for how she had treated Adora. Guilt builds up in layers until everything is tangled and messy and she can't even comprehend which feeling is which. Everything just hurts. 

Shadow Weaver was right. She’s worthless, good for nothing. 

Not for the first time, the thought of just ending it crosses her mind. All she does is take up space and hurt people. She is only a burden. The world would be better off without her, anyway. Nobody needs her, and people wouldn’t worry anymore. They might be sad for a while, Scorp and Trapta. But they’ll get over it.  They have each other.

It’s better that way. 

They wouldn't have to deal with her anymore. 

And Adora might be sad about it, if Catra’s lucky. If she cares enough to be sad. 

The guilt of the world weighs down on her, heavy and dull and aching and so constant the feeling is like a second skin. 

Nearly comforting, in a way. 

She doesn’t know what she would do without this feeling she has grown used to. 

Catra’s so tired. 

God, she’s just so tired. 

It would be so nice to simply fall asleep and not have to wake up again, nestled forever in soft sheets and warm blankets. 

More than anything, she just wants Adora here with her. 

Oh look, the urge is there again.

* * * 

This isn’t real. 

This can’t be real. 

A bold black B is stark against the white background, taunting her. 

Adora lets out a shaky breath and feels her heartbeat ringing in her ears. Panic rises in her throat. She tries to push it down. 

Tears spring in her eyes. She pushes that down too. 

There’s a hollow pit in her stomach, and oh look it just appeared and that’s funny because Glimmer always joked that her stomach was a black hole and oh now she feels nauseous that’s nice this is fine- 

She shakily rises up. When did she end up on the floor again? Everything feels hazy and dreamlike and too sharp and in focus at the same time and that’s a water bottle she put on the counter maybe she should go grab it- 

She hugs it to her chest and stares blankly. The slight crunch of the plastic feels grating to her ears. She puts it down. 

Her hands are shaking. When did that happen?

It’s fine, she thinks. This is fine. I can just go ask my professors about it and see if they’re still updating grades. But no, this is the finals, this is her final grade and she got a B, fuck- 

Her panic attack hits her like a truck. 

She can’t breathe. Fear overwhelms her mind and suddenly her legs can't support her anymore and dumps her unkindly on the ground and that’s not nice her legs are traitors her body is betraying her this isn't fair- 

Ha, it’s like her legs are jelly. Jelly, she thinks dimly through the haze of panic. I want some jelly. She laughs. It comes out a little hysterical. 

Her airway seems clogged up, for some reason, and it’s really difficult to take in a breath. Actually, breathing feels impossible. The air feels too dense and heavy. Big. The air feels big. 

She laughs again, then immediately feels like she’s choking. Stupid, she berates herself. Why would you do that? Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Probably why you got a B too, an unhelpful voice quips. 

Stop, she thinks. Or did she say it outloud? She’s not entirely sure of what’s happening. 

“No, no, no, no,” she mumbles to herself. 

Also, she kind of needs to breathe and she can’t. Right now. She used to be able to breathe. About 10 minutes ago. 

This is fine. 

But it’s not, because she got a fucking B and fuck this is the final grade fuck fuck fuck. 

Inadequate, her mind whispers. Average. Only average. 

A new wave of panic crashes over her, and it feels like she’s drowning. Water swirls around her and bubbles cloud her vision and she’s disoriented, sinking deeper, deeper, deeper without anything to grab onto. Completely out of control. 

She realizes dimly that she’s still hyperventilating and that’s probably not good. 

How will she go on? She can’t be successful with a B, goddammit. This will be on her permanent record, and all her employers will see this shameful badge and she’ll never get over this awful shame of not being the best that she could have been. 

It’s not good enough. 

Shame suffocates her. 

How could she let this happen? 

Everything was just feeling so out of control lately, what with Catra and paying rent and she slacked off and was lazy and this is what happens. She was distracted and she couldn’t focus, everything’s slipping through her fingers and her mind is just all over the place, wired and on overdrive and it just refuses to turn off. 

Catra. 

She was… she was an unforeseen variable, and disrupted her schedule, only a dis-

No.

She can’t bring herself to even think that. 

It’s Catra.  

She misses her. She misses her so much it feels like an aching lack in her heart. She misses her like she missed everything beautiful in the world. 

She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what to feel. 

She doesn’t know what’s going to happen, and it terrifies her. 

She wants, and it’s confusing because she doesn’t know what she’s wanting, whether to have her grade back to its rightful A or to just stop feeling like this or Catra, Catra Catra Catra-

More than anything, she just wants Catra here with her. 

Chapter Text

Glimmer inhales. A touch dramatically, Adora thinks. 

“So let me get this straight-”

“I’m not,” Adora interrupts. Glimmer shoots her a dirty look. Adora shuts her mouth. 

“We found you flopping on the ground, gasping like a fish-”

“Really flattering visual, Glim, thanks.”

“ Hyperventilating,” she emphasises, “because you got a B on one of your finals. And you’re saying you’re fine?” she ends off shrieking. 

Adora winces. She's sitting on a chair with Bow and Glimmer standing above her, and rather feels like a child being scolded by her parents. “I mean, technically, yes, but Glim,” she implores, “It was the finals. ”

“ And?” 

“What- what do you mean and? It was a B!” she sputters. “Th- that’s not good, that’s just average, it’s not good enough-” 

Bow gently cuts in. “Adora, it’s okay to have a B.” He ignores Adora’s look of outrage at such a far fetched statement. “Both Glimmer and I usually get Bs on our assignments, and we’re okay with that because it means we did a good job. An A means beyond what’s expected. Also,” he adds, “Would you think that we’re not good enough?” 

Oh, Adora realizes with a burst of shame. She hadn’t meant to make them feel inadequate compared to her. Not at all. It could’ve been so easily interpreted that way. 

“We’re not trying to make you feel ashamed, Adora,” Bow interjects, probably recognizing the emotion on her face. “Just…” he trails off. 

“Just treat yourself like you would us,” Glimmer fills in. 

“Yes!” he nods enthusiastically. “That. I was thinking exactly that.”

Adora wants to laugh. She thinks that’s about the stupidest thing ever. Why the hell would she go around treating herself like her friends? They’re different people, first of all. They need different things. Adora happens to thrive on harsh self criticism and high expectations, and they need gentle encouragement and support. Her inner Glimmer tells her snarkily, “ What you ‘thrive’ on landed you with a panic attack that almost ended up with us bringing you to the ER.” Adora thinks she doesn’t really like inner Glimmer. 

She doesn’t voice those thoughts, however. “Fine,” she mumbles. “Any other requests, Mom and Dad?” 

“I am not motherly,” Glimmer says sternly. “Bow, do you think I’m motherly? And stand up straight!” 

Bow straightens his back and puts on a serious face. “Of course you're not motherly, Glimmer.”

“Thank you,” Glimmer sniffs. 

Okay, Adora didn’t mean to distract them from their lecture, but she’s not complaining. She attempts to quietly edge away from her seat and hopefully escape to her room. She makes it halfway before Glimmer notices her crawling away and yells, “Get back here, Adora!” 

Adora pouts. “I don’t get why you’re doing this!” she protests. “I mean, I’m more of a ‘punch your feelings out kinda guy,’ what do you expect me to do?” 

Bow and Glimmer look at each other nervously. Oh, so they had been discussing Adora while they were also bantering. Nice. This is great. 

“About your earlier thing about ‘ any other requests,’” Bow starts. 

“We request you to go to therapy,” Glimmer says firmly. “Actually, scratch that. We expect you to go to therapy.”

“What?” Adora says, horrified. Therapy is for people who have problems, who need help, who’ve been through shit. She’s completely fine!

“It’s okay to need help,” Bow says encouragingly. 

“Right,” she mutters. “Help.”

* * * 

Catra is going out to smell the roses. 

She can’t believe it either. 

Turns out, staying cooped up in the house with intrusive thoughts isn’t the best. She considered a small walk when Scorpia nagged her about it for a week. The final blow was when Entrapta observed that Catra’s reclusiveness increased about 47% since the last month, and that there was a correlation between that and the increase of snappiness and bad moods. Catra refrained from growling back, again, that she really doesn’t want to be a part of Entrapta’s “social experiments” if only not to prove her point. 

So she’s literally going to go out and smell the roses just to spite them. 

Luckily, or unluckily, there’s a small rose garden a few miles away that Scorpia oh so helpfully comments. 

She pulls on her leather jacket, slips on her shoes, grabs her keys, and informs her friends that she is going out. She ignores Scorpia’s barely hidden excitement and Entrapta’s unrestrained whoop of glee. 

Try as she might to pretend otherwise, she really is touched by how they seem to care for her. God knows she doesn’t deserve it, after everything. She was such an asshole to them. Well, she still is, but the edge is taken off. 

She’s trying. 

And she does love them as well, deeply. 

Of course, she would sooner take a gun to the head than willingly admit that, but it’s the thought that counts and they don’t need to know.

Looking up at the sun and taking in a deep breath as she waits by the bus stop, she can maybe admit to herself that she did need this. She had been more “reclusive” lately, as Entrapta put it. Catra did make the valiant effort to have dinner with them a few times a week, but other than that she had been shut in her room. 

Feeling like she had lost Adora again was the biggest blow, she ruminates as she steps onto the bus. She glares at an old man who stares judgmentally at her very obviously dyke haircut and returns to her thoughts when he looks properly cowed. 

It was just a small thing, but hearing the confirmation that Adora’s found new friends in place of her when she left, especially so casually, felt like a distinct slap to her face. 

Goddamn, she really has been a depressing little bastard lately. 

Not that she’d admit that. 

* * * 

The rose garden is in full bloom, and Catra can’t help but appreciate the beauty. Her favorite ones are the deep blood red roses, their delicate petals soft and velvety between her fingers. 

The sun is shining, and butterflies and bees are fluttering about in the sunlight. Quaint little stone chairs are milled around the garden with little statues of frogs and fountains. Catra half expects a princess to leap out of the bushes and start bursting into song. It’s like a fucking fairytale.

She wanders around, taking in the colors and thinking about maybe if there's room in her portfolio to squeeze in one more piece because damn she really wants to paint these flowers. Catra’s thinking about the symbolism of harsh thorns and delicate petals when someone unkindly bumps into her. She narrowly avoids spilling herself on the walkway in lieu of that stranger taking the place for her. 

Watch where you’re going, asshole, Catra’s about to snarl, before she sees who it is. 

“Adora.” Her name slips out of her mouth before she can catch them. 

“Oh, hey,” Adora says, face burning. She is still laying on the ground as if it were a bed. “I’ll just…” she gestures vaguely to the dirt. “I’ll just stay here, I guess.” 

Catra laughs. “Don’t be such a dork. Come on,” she says. Before she can talk herself out of it, she grasps Adora’s arm and pulls her up. She jerks her hand away as if burned when Adora gets back on her feet, trying not to think about muscles.

Adora still looks a bit red, although the weather’s not that hot. 

“Thanks,” she says, sounding embarrassed. 

“You know me. Always saving your ass,” Catra replies, trying not to let the affection show through her voice. 

“Oh yeah?” she challenges. Ah, there’s that old competitive spirit peeking through. “What about that time you fell off the roof and had to miss class and I covered up for you?” 

“You totally pushed me off!”

“On accident!” Adora nearly shrieks. “I apologized like a million times, why are you still holding this over me?”

“Because I nearly died,” Catra says with dignity. 

“Oh please,” she scoffs. “You’re like a cat, you barely sprained your ankle.” 

“I also scraped my palm,” Catra reminds Adora in a long suffering tone. 

“Yes, so sorry,” she says sarcastically. 

Catra chuckles at that, and moves to keep strolling along the bushes. Adora follows her without a thought. 

“Speaking of sorry,” Adora begins rather timidly. 

Oh shit, Catra thinks. A vindictive part of her is screaming finally.

“Did I do anything to make you upset” - Catra feels a jolt of terror - “when we were texting last time? You left kind of abruptly,” Adora says in a rush, sounding as if she would rather be anywhere but here. Catra feels the same. 

“Careful there, Adora,” Catra dodges. “People might think you like me.” 

“I do like you,” Adora mumbles. Her face might as well be a tomato. “But not like that,” she rushes to say. “I mean, you’re my best friend, Catra! Always have been.” 

Her breath catches in her throat. 

All this time, she was apparently Adora’s best friend. She remembers the shouting, the isolation, the cruel words and harsh screams. All this time she thought she wasn’t good enough for Adora. All this time, she resigned herself to be forever on the sidelines of Adora’s love. 

But still, after all this time, Catra is her best friend. 

Catra feels something like regret creep into her body. 

“I’m your best friend?” she whispers. It comes out more pathetic than Catra would’ve liked. 

“Of course you are,” Adora says. Her perfect eyebrows are pinched together as if worried. “We- we spent our entire childhood together, Catra, what, did you think I was just gonna replace you?”

Catra barks out a laugh that comes out a little hysterical. “Honestly, yeah. Haven’t you?” 

Adora genuinely looks bewildered. “Uh. No?” 

“I thought you had Glitter and Arrows,” Catra says, trying not to let any bitterness seep into her voice.

“Well, I mean, yeah. They’re nice! And I really love them! And they mean a lot! But,” she says sheepishly. “You’re like... My favorite. You’re my favorite person.”

“Oh.” Catra’s a little stunned. For the first time in her life, she’s not really sure what to say.

“Well,” she manages. “You’re my favorite person too.”

Adora, for some reason, blushes at that. 

Catra would like to get out of this conversation as soon as possible. Things are only allowed to be awkward if she’s in control of the conversation, and Catra has an odd feeling that wherever Adora’s concerned, Catra will forever be in her palm. 

“So,” she mocks. “Didn’t know flower gardens were your thing, Adora.” 

She pouts. “It’s not. I-” she cuts off. Adora twists her jacket between her fingers, picking at the threads. 

“I’m just upset at what my friends told me,” she says quietly. “Thought the flowers might help me cool off.” 

Catra’s amazing intuition skills tell her that Adora doesn’t want to talk about it. She shrugs and remembers how it always amused Adora to hear Catra making fun of other people, even though Adora always half heartedly protested for show. Catra points out a person wearing an all black ensemble with heavy makeup and a My Chemical Romance shirt. 

“Looks like someone never grew out of that phase, huh? Do you think I should take some pictures for future blackmail?” 

A smile twitches at the corner of Adora’s mouth. “Do you even know them? Why would you ever need to blackmail that person?” 

Catra smirks, and shrugs carelessly. “Never underestimate the power of pure, unfiltered embarrassment. And besides, you never know.”

“No, like, what’s so embarrassing about My Chemical Romance?” 

“Oh that’s right,” Catra says with faux surprise. “You went through that phase too! Correct me if I’m wrong, but I never am, that was after your horse girl phase in middle school.” She pats Adora’s hair poof, sitting sadly above her burning face. “Of course you wouldn't think it’s embarrassing, you went through the same thing yourself. I understand.”

“Catra, why do you always need to do this? I don’t think my ego can go on,” Adora moans. 

Catra shoves Adora in the shoulder. “Not like you need any help with that,” she says, pleased that she's successfully distracted her. “Remember when you arm wrestled a guy after he said he was the strongest person in school? I think he wet his pants sobbing, you were insufferable for weeks.”

“It was well deserved pride,” she huffs. “He was arrogant and cocky and such a jock and needed to be taken down a peg.” 

“Wait, who were you describing again?” 

“Catra!”

* * * 

Catra and Adora spend the rest of the afternoon and into the early evening chasing each other around the garden and swapping memories, much to the annoyance of the other guests that send them glares which they ignore. 

They both carefully avoid the topic of Adora’s departure, and there was no more talk of apologies and friends and upsetting each other, but only in their memories where time has jaded clarity and they both forget the sting of pain that came with betrayal.