Chapter Text
Sometimes Sasha wanted to see Marcy’s absolute limit for staying awake. She'd give Marcy an infinite amount of energy drinks and snacks, she'd be able to do anything she wanted, pester her and Anne anytime she wanted, and all she had to do was stay awake until she dropped.
It was strictly a hypothetical. Anne would RKO her before she even got the chance to verbalize it to anyone, and either way, she liked to think of it as a roided Olympics. Never to happen but endlessly intriguing to imagine on boring days.
“Sasha! Sash! Sashimi! Sashy!"
But if it were to happen, in some pretend world where it wouldn’t hurt Marcy and she was one hundred percent consenting, she would’ve bet a solid amount of cash on Marcy crashing sometime between day three and day four.
"Sasha, I have something really cool to show you and it’s a surprise!”
Until that morning.
Because the minute she left her room and saw that Marcy was bubblier than ever with eye bags deeper than the Mariana Trench, she was floored at how incredibly resilient Marcy's sanity was. Which was then promptly followed by the thought that she’d crash on day four to five.
She hopped from foot to foot, squinting to offset her stinging dry eyes, impatiently following Sasha to the bathroom as she rambled incoherently.
“I think you’ll be a little eh about it but I also think it’s been enough time, and I took one of those quizzes that’s like, ‘What Type of Thing Are You?’, but I answered it like you would’ve, and it wasn’t exactly what I had in mind so I trashed it anyways, but it was the same type of thing sort of. Categorically wise. Or family wise, more like? I need to read up on taxonomy again.”
She blinked. Marcy’s energy would’ve been infectious if it weren’t for the fact that she was a little annoyed from being bombarded the second she touched her bedroom door knob.
“Alright, just give me a second.” She gently pushed Marcy out of the bathroom before shutting the door. She leaned on it for a bit to gather herself before sighing and picking up her toothbrush.
Was she happy about Marcy being excited, yes, of course. It was a rainbow at the end of a storm, the random onion ring you get in an order of Burger King fries, the blessing of doing her morning routine without having to hear the clickity clacks of Marcy’s god awful mechanical keyboard. But Marcy needed to go to bed. And Sasha preferred to piss in peace.
She rinsed her mouth and wiped the dribbles of water on her chin with her shirt.
“Sasha! Come on!”
"I need a fat minute, Marcy.”
Her head ran through different scenarios, each of them slight variations on how to best scold Marcy. She was never good at it though, not as good as Anne. Sasha was too direct, too upfront and confrontational yet simultaneously not firm enough. Anne had a way of softening the blow. As if she kissed the bruises from their skin after a good pinch.
She pushed the thought from her mind, pretending it flushed away when she pushed the lever on the toilet.
“We’re gonna have to talk about this,” She said through the door, washing her hands.
“Talk about what?”
Her voice feigned innocence. Feigned the knowledge that they both had gone over time and time again. It only served to make her more annoyed, to which she felt guilty. She never liked being angry at Marcy. She bit her tongue and stayed silent.
As soon as she opened the door, Marcy pulled her to the still dark living room, “You can’t keep on staying up late, Marcy.”
“Hold on," She whined, "We can have a lecture after I show you your surprise!”
Her grip was tight and slightly sweaty, but she let go much too quickly with a tap on her shoulder to scramble for the light.
Sasha’s eyes followed her, “Marcy! Seriously, you can’t keep doing this! I swear I will turn off the internet.” She thought for a second, “I’ll take your monitor!” Another second, “I’ll take your consoles too!”
Once the light was on, she awkwardly shoved something behind her back and waddled over to Sasha. She hated how endeared she was becoming, forcefully stifling the crooked smile that threatened to spread on her face with a strained frown. Marcy’s only grew, knowing and slightly smarmy.
"Stop making me not mad at you!" She wanted to stomp her foot.
"I haven't done anything.”
Her hands flailed in frustration, “When’s the last time you slept?”
Marcy brought her shoulders to her neck and sheepishly said, “I don’t really know?”
“Marcy! What the fuck, dude!”
“I got a little carried away and you know how I am about time. It’s not that important anyways, I just . . . had a moment.” She was gesturing as if she was telling a funny inconsequential story and it only made Sasha more exasperated.
“I swear to god I will start drugging you with melatonin.” Sasha stuck out her pinky, “Promise me you’ll sleep after I leave.”
Marcy hooked her own pinky to Sasha’s and nodded fervently, “I absolutely promise, cross my heart and on my grave.”
“Okay. The next time you stay up, I’m gonna have to bring Anne into this. I’d rather not but.” A wave of protectiveness washed over her and she resisted the urge to grab her hand, “I need you to take care of yourself. I love you, okay?”
“I love you too, Sash.” She smiled, “You ready?”
Sasha sighed and nodded, “I've been ready, give it here.”
Although her tone was incredibly monotone, Marcy’s excitement increased tenfold, and even though Marcy’s bloodshot eyes looked more red than white, she had more than enough energy to lighten the room up just a little more.
“Here you go!” She beamed, chanting a short little melody to help its grand entrance. She raised it up above her head and carefully carried it until it was far too close to Sasha’s face for her liking.
Sasha grabbed it and stared. It was short, wide, and small with long yellow thorns. It sat in a green plastic pot and its soil was bone dry.
“It's a cactus!” Sasha said, forcing the words out through her confusion.
What the fuck was she supposed to do with a cactus. Did they . . . were these the ones with fruit? Or was it a succulent thing made to look pretty? Was it a test of some sort?
Her stomach dropped. Was Marcy going somewhere? Was she going to have to take care of it?
She spun it around in her hands as if it would magically transform into something else.
Because if Marcy was going somewhere and expected Sasha to take care of it, it would definitely die in a few days. Guaranteed.
Memories of snake plants, various pothos, and jades came to mind, easy plants that Mr. Boonchuy claimed were kill-proof until Sasha had gotten ahold of them. She either scorched it or drowned it or forgot about it, and she was positive that every plant could smell the murder on her careless hands.
Just holding the small and fresh barrel cactus made it shake with fear. Or maybe she was just anxious.
“Thanks! For the cactus!” Her voice had a weird lilt to it that made it seem like she was asking a question.
Marcy stopped bouncing. It was comical how quickly her shoulders slumped into themselves and how her eyelids became lidded with exhaustion.
“You don’t like it, huh.”
Sasha couldn’t keep the guilty smile off her face, “No, he’s beautiful, it’s just.”
How could she explain it without sounding like a butthurt plant-murderer?
“I expected like, breakfast. Or maybe actual flowers.”
Marcy huffed and wrapped her hands around its pot, thrumming her fingers over Sasha’s. It was nice but made her lose her train of thought.
“Sasha, I don't wanna burn the house down, first of all, and secondly, even though they’d already be sort of dead, you’d kill them deader in a day. Cacti are hardy and strong and tough and prickly and low maintenance but also dramatic just like you!”
Sasha blinked off the whiplash, “Are you going somewhere? Do I need to take care of him while you're gone?"
"No, where would I go? And alone? Without . . . No, I'm not going anywhere, I just thought it'd be nice to give.”
She sighed in relief, “Okay, well what am I supposed to do with her then?”
Marcy shrugged, “Put them in a bright place and water them every once in a while.” Her eyes gleamed manically, “And then cherish him and love him forever and ever and be happier ‘cause he’s poggers AF and ‘cause you have a new and rewarding hobby now.”
She somehow swallowed the groan stuck in her throat and narrowed her eyes, “I have plenty of hobbies, thank you very much. I’ve just tried and failed enough times with this one.” Sasha huffed and pushed the cactus towards Marcy, “And no offense, but this is just a cactus.”
Marcy gasped and narrowed her eyes, scandalized. She wiggled her fingers beneath Sasha’s and took back the plant, holding it close to her chest like a sacred thing before tipping her nose to the ceiling haughtily.
“Just a cactus? If he had ears, I would stab my hands to cover them from your foul fiendish fabrications!” Marcy took a step back, “If you don’t want them then me and him are leaving!”
Marcy wasn’t actually going to leave, she knew that, but if she felt a pang in her chest at the thought of it anyways, it was between her and the dumb cactus and all of the dead plants she buried.
“Wait no. No, give him here,” she glanced at a windowsill, “There’s a perfect place for them.”
She reached out to grab her arm but quickly decided against it. Marcy was armed and dangerous, the last thing she wanted to do was tweeze needles out of any body part.
She popped her eyes open and followed her gaze, scrutinizing the window like a judgemental mother. Sasha bit back a laugh and gently pried the cactus out of Marcy’s hands.
“Does it have a ton of sunlight? He needs to be in the center of a spotlight in order to thrive. Sort of like you but less ‘cause if you actually put him under a spotlight without introducing them slowly, he’ll die.”
Sasha frowned and clicked her tongue. Maybe she deserved that.
“Yeah, it gets a decent amount.”
“How much though? And what direction is this window? If it’s north it’s an absolute no,” Marcy said, pulling out her phone.
Sasha furrowed her brow, “I don’t know but it gets bright for a couple of hours at least. Have you been coming out of your room during the day?”
She set it down and stepped back. It was cute. A nice contrast against the plain white. Warmth bloomed in her veins but it wasn’t enough to drown out the worry.
She turned, “Marcy?”
No response.
She did insult her cactus.
She took a deep breath, resigned to the fact that she was going to have to bring it up later, lest she stay up for even longer.
Oblivious to the concern painted on Sasha’s face, Marcy continued with the window's judgment day.
“Okay, yeah. A west window should be fine . . . I guess,” She huffed, “But the minute I see that cactus etiolating I’m forcing you to get a growing lamp!”
Sasha smiled, small and troubled, “Hell, I’ll get it after work if you want. How about I make you breakfast so you can go to bed.”
They headed towards the kitchen, with Sasha half listening to Marcy’s ramble about how to care for their new plant.
Marcy needed to sleep. She needed to go to work. It was what absolutely needed to happen, end of discussion.
Unfortunately, no matter how she thought about it, a selfish part of her enjoyed Marcy’s presence. Reveled in it, the comfort of not having to do her routine alone. And sure, Marcy was always like that, caring and jittery and bright, but when it was just the two of them, Sasha could pretend she was all for her. Only for her.
It was dangerous thinking but she couldn't stop it. She found that she didn’t want to stop it either, and it hung in her chest, suffocating and tight; gum on a shoe. Because it wasn’t the first time she thought about being with Marcy. Because it shouldn’t be her but it would be. Because it was easy to slip into old habits and to take take take and to give it back crumpled and ripped and broken.
Sasha wanted to be looked at a little more when they were alone. She wanted to bury her wants deep beneath the clouds and sky and air and grass. She wanted to wrap her arms around Marcy’s middle and pull her in close. She wanted to curl up into a ball and forget anything that existed besides the floor. She wanted.
Guilt was a familiar feeling. The kick was that it never got any lighter, crushing her being into nothing then forcing the dust into a diamond.
Sitting on her hands would get easier. It had to.