Chapter Text
Marcy had never been one for physical contact.
Back home on Earth with their parents, such a thing was incredibly rare. Their parents just weren’t affectionate people, they supposed. Maybe they would get the occasional pat on the back for a good perfect job, but even then the contact was short and only made them shiver. The house sent chills down their spine and felt constricting in ways they couldn’t even begin to describe. They recall seeing several studies saying that physical contact improves mood, but that can’t be right.
Why else would touch feel so foreign?
Why would it leave such a hallow emptiness in its wake?
Marcy had never been one for physical contact...until Anne arrived.
They had first met at a playground when they both were 5 years old. Anne had approached them randomly and immediately started a friendly introduction. She somehow seemed more excitable than your average 5 year old, which clashed greatly with Marcy’s anxiety and social ineptness.
“Wanna play on the swings together?”
Anne had asked them such a common question while beaming even brighter than Sirius, the binary star. The light doesn’t blind them though, it only causes a warm bubbly feeling in their chest that definitely isn’t anxiety, but they don’t know exactly what it is. The star previously mentioned also shines an appropriate amount of light on the odd fact that they constantly felt cold and empty. To say they were star struck (Anne would like that one) at the girl in front of them radiating such a bright, comforting warmth would be the understatement of the
Centauri (she’d like that one too, they later figure out).
They had always felt cold, they had just accepted it as part of themself.
So what if they never felt comfortable in their own skin?
So what if they were kept awake at night because of the chilling frost stabbing at their heart?
It was pretty standard for Marcy, which made the sheer warmth Anne had seemed to just radiate feel a tad bit unnatural. Not bad per se just...different. Actually a really good different, now that they think about it. It was almost as if just being in close proximity to Anne evaporated the cold instantly, though they know that such things were not possible because of thermodynamics.
After an unknown amount of time Anne’s face falls a bit. Marcy doesn’t yet know why it makes them feel so sad.
“Did you not want to play with me?”
The line threatens to tear Marcy apart at the seams.
“I- Uh no I want to!”
They eventually manage to sputter out.
Anne’s face brightens again, somehow even moreso than before, and it fills them with inexplicable joy. The young Thai girl grabs their hand and they feel it for the first time.
Warmth.
It’s the nicest thing they’ve ever felt in their, albeit, short life. It’s an absolutely euphoric experience and they never want it to end.
When Anne separates they notice instantly, but they don’t experience the hallow emptiness again.
No.
It’s like Anne was so warm the heat was permanently etched into Marcy’s being. They felt like they could run around in the Arctic with their normal attire and never freeze. It was like the cold feeling was banished and would never return. The thought makes Marcy smile, impossibly happy to be done with the oppressive frost. For the first time in their life they laugh with such pure joy that could only come from finding someone as special as Anne. They play without being racked by a crushing anxiety and even when Anne has to go home they can’t help but smile at the bright future with Anne ahead of them.
When they return home the cold doesn’t constrict them nearly as much and the frost over their heart has yet to return. That day Marcy had made up their mind, it was always going to be them and Anne, together forever without the threat of loneliness tearing them apart at the seams.
The horrible feeling returns many years later, in the form of a flaming sword through their torso, ironically enough, and the realization that they had betrayed Anne and Sasha. Even as their chestplate melts at the heat they don’t feel hot. Nothing of the sort it’s just...
It’s so so cold.
How they felt before Anne and her comforting warmth slams into them with such force it almost knocks them over. The memory of the comforting warmth that used to quell even their greatest anxieties almost seemed like another distant fantasy they indulged in too much.
“Look at where that got you”, an internal voice scolds.
Eventually their eyes travel up to meet Anne’s horrified gaze. They want nothing more than to assure her that they’ll be okay and she doesn’t need to be upset- please god don’t be upset anymore please. It somehow manages to hurt them more than the lethal burning stab wound and the biting cold.
They realize that they’re going to die unable to make up for their mistakes and a more morbid part of their brain wonders if their actions would make Anne feel the freezing grip on her heart that they suffered from for years.
No, Anne has never needed them, not like they had needed her.
The realization hits them as their knees begin to buckle and fully realize that they will die, knowing that they caused Anne great suffering, but they have no way to atone or make up for it.
With all the strength they could muster they sputter out their final words, words that could never even begin to convey the gravity of what they had done, or their ensuing guilt and remorse.
They were so sorry they didn’t have enough time to tell Anne just how sorry they were, how sorry that they had betrayed her trust for their own selfish reasons, and most of all, how sorry they were for not telling Anne how they felt about her.
Only one simple phrase comes to Marcy’s quieting mind and fading consciousness.
“I’m sorry for everything.”
“MARCY!”