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Anne’s hotel room is… comfy, to say the least.
“Sorry about the ride,” Anne apologizes, again, and the sound of her voice - mature and yet the same Anne she’s always known, how did that happen? - is enough to send the flutters of butterfly wings in Marcy’s stomach. It’s a familiar feeling, but familiar in the way a distant memory is, one that has lived out of reach for so long, she doesn’t know how to handle it anymore.
What is she meant to do about this?
Luz - that schemer, Luz, who had planned all of this, who had known about Marcy’s feelings and talked with Anne behind her back and gotten them together without either one of them knowing - had winked at Marcy when she left the concert hall, and she’s probably off having a fun human night with her not-human girlfriend, and Marcy’s always felt… not envious, but something bitter towards her roommate and Amity, but watching them leave… it makes this feel real.
This is real.
“I can’t believe this is real,” Anne murmurs, as if reading Marcy’s mind. She sags against the door as it closes behind her, and Marcy has to crane her neck to look at her, spinning her chair around so that they’re face to face instead of the awkward angle. “I didn’t think…”
Marcy thinks about the last time they had seen each other face to face. Tears in their eyes, arms around shoulders, sobs muffled against clothes. It’s unfair, Anne had whispered, we’ve all changed so much, why do you still have to leave?
I don’t wanna leave, Marcy had whispered back, but I can’t keep running away.
I’m proud of you, Marmar.
Thanks, Anna-Banana.
“Me neither,” she settles on saying, her voice quiet and raspy. Her breathing had never really gotten better after her time in Amphibia, and after physically taxing days, her voice tended to give out on her, growing more and more raspy the longer time passed. Usually, that’s a sign that she should sleep, but there’s no way she’d be able to sleep now, not when she’s in a hotel room with Anne.
Anne, who is famous now, who is on a tour, and doesn’t she have more important things to do?
No, Marcy, she scolds herself mentally, remember what your therapist said? You can’t keep assuming that people don’t care about you, or that you’re not important. Come on now.
Frogs, she has so many questions. They hadn’t spoken much after Marcy had moved to Connecticut, off to a new life with her parents - parents that still had no understanding of her, but were willing to try a little harder so long as the government provided disability checks for Marcy’s less-than-stellar physical condition - and away from Los Angeles. They had tried, oh they had tried to keep up with texts and video calls… but Anne got busy with tennis, and Marcy was getting worse and worse both physically and mentally, and eventually, things fell apart.
But she’s here now.
Anne sniffs hard, and she paces around the living room area of the hotel room. Her things are already strewn across the floor and bed, so she was clearly already staying here before the concert; it helps Marcy feel less like an intruder.
“When Luz messaged me, I thought it was gonna be… I don’t know! Some strange stalker fan? I had security on standby, I was waiting for the curtain to drop the entire time! But she knew about Amphibia, and knew about me, and I thought… well, I do remember vaguely meeting another human from another world way before I even ran into Sasha the first time, but I couldn’t recall her name, or her face, and honestly, I thought it was a dream!” Anne runs a finger through her hair, and it catches on her hairband, sending the mess of curls sprawling down her back.
She’s gorgeous. Even prettier than Marcy remembers her.
“She didn’t tell me that she knew you, I had no idea…” Anne laughs, and her fingers drag down the side of her face, and she sniffs again, offering a weak smile towards Marcy. “I’m just… frog, Marcy, it’s so good to see you again.”
“I didn’t know either,” Marcy says, with a little snort, “Luz told me we were going to a musical. I didn’t even question it, because that’s the only reason we come to New York City. Luz has been…” she trails off, thinking about her eccentric roommate, the way they had bonded so quickly. Kindred souls, she thinks. “She’s my roommate by law, actually. Legally, she’s registered as my caretaker.”
Anne finally glances down at the wheelchair Marcy’s spent the last four years in, and her smile drops, weary exhaustion taking its place. “What… happened?”
It’s a painful subject. So painful, in fact, that Marcy had never explicitly told Luz how she gained the nerve-damaging stab wound across her back and chest, because talking about it meant thinking about it, and thinking about it inevitably meant falling back into that dark, dark space in her mind, the one that whispered that everything was her fault, her fault, her fault. It gnawed away at her being, and the best way she could suppress it was to ignore it, which meant not thinking about it.
But… this is Anne. She can let down her walls around Anne.
“Amphibian tech doesn’t last very long here,” she explains, softly, keeping herself as even and on-topic as she possibly can. Anne’s eyes are big and bright and sparkling in the yellow hotel room lighting; it’s a welcome distraction. “The tech that was keeping the nerves in my spine kinda. Gave out? Four ish years ago. I suppose I could’ve tried to replicate it, but I was just so tired all the time… besides, being in a wheelchair isn’t so bad. It’s actually kinda nice! I had an actual reason to skip gym class.”
Anne rolls her eyes fondly at the last part, her expression going from tight and obviously pained to something a bit more relaxed. “You would’ve done anything to get out of gym.”
Marcy gives a wry smile. “You know me too well.”
Anne snorts, and she dives forwards again, bending down at what has to be an awkward angle to wrap her arms around Marcy’s shoulders again. Her hair is as soft as it looks, tickling Marcy’s neck as she hugs back, arms curling around Anne’s lower back.
“I missed you so much,” Anne whispers, and her voice shakes, “I… oh, Marmar, I’ve wanted today to happen for so long, and now that it has, I don’t know what to do.”
I don’t either, Marcy wants to answer, but she’s cut off by a rather obnoxious yawn, smothered against Anne’s shoulder.
“Sleepy?”
“It’s been a long day.” Marcy curls her fingers into Anne’s shirt, inhales the scent of whatever perfume she used before the concert. “Can… can I stay here? I don’t have any clothes, but I can sleep in whatever, you know me.”
“Of course you can stay, Marbles,” Anne pulls away, wiping at her eyes with an exaggerated sniff. “You can even borrow one of my shirts, if you want? I don’t think any of my sleeping shorts will fit you, though, sorry.”
Marcy flushes, her cheeks burning hot at just the thought of wearing one of Anne’s shirts to bed. It sounds like something straight out of a fever dream. “If that’s okay?”
Anne smiles so warmly at her, her own cheeks red, and Marcy just celebrated her 21st birthday but man does she feel so young in this moment, like a doe-eyed high schooler.
~~~
Later, when they’re both situated and in pajamas, Anne helps Marcy out of her wheelchair - she’s normally fairly good at getting herself out, her upper body strength has improved a lot since she was a teenager, but she’s tired and having Anne’s hands guide her to the bed sends another flutter of butterfly wings in her stomach.
“Is this okay?” Anne asks, softly, so softly, and really, she hasn’t changed a bit from the kindhearted, loving girl that she had become in her time in Amphibia. She sits on the bed next to where she’s lifted Marcy, and Marcy scoots backwards by herself, tongue sticking out as she slides backwards to the pillows.
Anne’s eyes follow her the entire time, glancing between her useless legs and Marcy’s face. There’s conflict written all over her; she’s never been good at hiding her emotions, and now is no exception.
“It’s not a big deal, Anne,” she says, softly, drawing Anne’s attention back to her face. “It doesn’t hurt any, and besides, I’ve gotten much stronger! It’s okay.”
“I wish you hadn’t been hurt at all,” Anne replies, but she scoots forward as well, slipping into the bed next to Marcy. The bed’s not really big enough for two people, not unless they want to share a space, but Anne’s arms loop around Marcy’s easily, and Marcy snuggles into Anne’s chest, and it feels… right.
“I think I was in love with you,” Marcy murmurs, and it just slips out of her so easily, so quickly, like she hasn’t been repressing this for over seven years now, “back then.”
Anne hums, and she buries her face in Marcy’s hair, breathing gently. “Yeah. Me too.”
“I never listened to your music. Not because I didn’t want to hear it, but because I was so afraid that if I heard your voice, I’d fall in love with you all over again.”
Anne’s hand traces circles against Marcy’s back, carefully avoiding the middle - though it’s not sensitive anymore, not after seven years - and she hums again, light and airy. “And did you?”
Marcy blinks. “What?”
Anne’s voice is teasing, and Marcy can just feel the devious smile on her face. “You’ve heard my voice now. Did you fall in love with me again?”
Marcy huffs, and she buries herself a little bit closer. She wishes she could move her legs, if only so she can tangle them with Anne’s, engulfed by her warmth. “What do you think?”
“Mmm,” Anne inhales, and the combination of her fingers against Marcy’s back and breathing against her hair has Marcy drifting off faster than she’d like. “I think I knew, too. If I ever saw you again, I’d tell you how I felt about you. How I still feel, about you.”
It almost feels unfair, because Marcy also misses Sasha, but she doesn’t know where Sasha is, and she doesn’t know if things are mended enough between her and Anne to ask, and she doesn’t want to ruin this for anything. So, instead, she just releases a sleepy little sigh of content, wriggling around to get into the comfiest position.
“You can tell me again in the morning,” she whispers. “Goodnight, Anne.”
“Goodnight, Marcy,” she hears, and then she’s drifting off, and for the first time in a long time, she’s warm.