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Sasha Waybright first got that scar while in Amphibia, but by now, after wearing it for so many years, she feels like she's had it an entire lifetime.
It's worn on her cheek, branded there. To her, it serves as a reminder of the only battle she ever lost. And to think, she lost it to someone with barely any sword training. And to think she lost it to her friend - it hurts.
It stings, even when it doesn't. It stings even though it's healed, the skin shiny and silvery in the glinting of the light. Often she traces it, the pads of her hard-skinned fingers, turned rough from blade wielding, dipping into the line as it zig-zags ever so slightly across her cheek in an uneven curve - she cringes every time her fingernails graze the hollow, and dabs some foundation on it in a desperate attempt to conceal it.
Physically, it doesn't hurt. It's healed completely, skin a slightly off-colour red to contrast painfully from her usual skin tone. And though it doesn't physically hurt, it definitely does emotionally.
While it may be a reminder, it's not a good one. Anne's forgiven her now, they've been over this time and time again, through sobs and hugs and falling asleep holding each other while they cry and cry it out, fidgeting with their friendship bracelets and sucking on offered candy to detangle the tension in the air upon arrival. They sorted it out, and it's over now. They're friends, and everything's okay. No longer fighting over broken friendships that were never broken in the first place.
But that didn't stop the scar from sitting there ever so painfully, phantom aching and stinging coursing through her cheek. Her thumb caresses it, and she cringes, reaching for her concealer. In a couple motions she rubbed it over the cut, as if rehearsed and carried out time and time again like a broken record.
And then she decided she'd go on with her day - like she always does.
She made her way to the living room, catching sight of her girlfriend - Marcy - standing in the kitchen. Tiptoeing over, she wrapped her arms around her waist, nuzzling into her neck, placing tender kisses there and listening to that familiar comforting melody of Marcy's giggle.
Without a word at first, she turned and placed a kiss onto Sasha's cheek, cupping her other cheek with her hand as she held the handle of the pan over the hob - though unsteadily. Sensing the coming clumsiness, Sasha jolted a hand up and steadied the handle, wrapping hand over hand; and muttering a tiny 'careful'.
"I'm always careful," Marcy retorted, brows raised. "And, good morning."
"Morning," Sasha let out with a chuckle, "And I'd believe that… if I'd never met you before."
"Oh, ha-ha." Her girlfriend laughed sarcastically, "You can let go now. I got it."
"Alright, I trust you, but… don't come crying to me if you drop hot bacon on your feet." Mockingly, yet affectionately, she raised her arms up like a surrender and backed off.
"Awwe, I was enjoying the hug!" Marcy turned for a second to look at her.
"You'll get another when you're done!" Sasha faced her too, "And focus on that pan."
For a moment though, Sasha saw something written on Marcy's face. It wasn't positive, but it was obvious that she was trying to conceal Sasha from seeing it from the immediate bright smile afterwards, coupled by upturned brows full of concern.
Then she turned, silently, back to the pan - and Sasha found herself frowning too. She'd ask about that later. Was there something on her face? Maybe bed hair? No, no, Marcy found her bed hair cute. There's something off.
The TV turned on, the smell of bacon in the air and the sizzling of it in the pan, and Marcy's sweet humming along to the cheesy pop song on the radio. Everything felt so perfect even as the worry fizzled out, but still, it hung about.
Finally, the popping of the oil ceased in the pan, and plates clattered from the cupboard as the black-haired girl juggled a few to place their bacon streaks on. After a moment or two and the click of the oven turning off, she walked over to the sofa and placed them onto the coffee table. Gratefully, Sasha placed a kiss to her girlfriend's lips, followed by a small complaint from Marcy of 'you haven't even brushed your teeth yet!'.
As they tucked into their bacon, Sasha continued to sneak small glances at Marcy, who, in turn, was sneaking glances back - but not at her eyes. No, she was looking at something on her face… and Sasha took a good guess at what.
At one point, they both turned simultaneously; and suddenly the topic could be avoided no longer.
"Something up?" Finally breaking the silence, Sasha placed her plate back down onto the table and eyed Marcy, as she visibly moved her streak of bacon back to her plate, as if the question had ruined her appetite
"Nothing."
"You know I can tell, Mar-Mar."
"You always can…" Marcy clicked her tongue, now also having placed her plate back down, curling in on herself a little bit by bringing her legs upon the sofa's cushions and to her chest. Sasha knew why she did this - nervousness. Over the years, ever since they were young, Marcy had been incredibly easy to read. Always had been. It was easy to coerce an explanation out of her for her poor moods, to will out that pent-up emotion and help her feel better in the end… to help her get it out of her system, even if it meant that overwhelming emotion had built up to the point of taking it out on Sasha and Anne. Though rare, it happened once or twice. And the two of them always knew not to take what she said to heart, but to wait it out and let her get it out of her system, and then help comfort her afterwards when the apologies came flooding out like a broken dam.
"Then tell me," Sasha asked, careful not to touch her just yet. She didn't know the problem, and therefore shouldn't just assume that she wants to be comforted by touch right now - she'd learnt to be gentle with her approach over the years. "You know you can tell me anything, okay? ...Even if it's about me. You can say."
She'd predicted it was about herself from the get-go. The glances that avoided her eyes said it all, and although Marcy has talked multiple times about her difficulty with holding eye contact, she'd gotten so much better at it. Especially with Sasha.
"How'd you know?" Marcy lifted her head a little, unsure. However, now she was looking at Sasha - in the eyes.
"You were glancing at me but.. not meeting my eyes. Have I done something wrong? Be honest."
"What? Sashy, No! No, no, not at all!" For a second Marcy scrambled to her knees on the cushions, her eyes widened and sympathetic. She cupped Sasha's face with both hands, and Sasha felt something - a feeling on her skin she knew all too well.
"It's about this," Marcy said wistfully, her thumb tracing the concealed scar on Sasha's cheek.
For a moment they sat there, and now, it was Sasha who was avoiding eye contact. Her heart dropped slightly. She'd been dancing around this subject for so long, and now it's like it's been slapped on the table in front of her.
She lifted a hand, and pulled the hand that was caressing the scar away softly, but Marcy didn't just let her - no, she took her hand away again and cupped her cheek once more, which prompted Sasha to look at her in the eyes. It was like she was begging her: 'just stop this. Stop bringing it up. I hate when people see it. I hate that people can see it.'
"You can't avoid it, Sash. It's part of you."
"And I wish it wasn't," Sasha mumbles under her breath, and now instead of attempting to pull Marcy's hand away from her cheek, she instead rested her hand atop her girlfriends and allowed her to caress the indentation upon her cheek. "Why are you doing this, Marce? I don't get it."
Marcy smiled, but it was that sort of smile where you can just tell how emotional she's getting.
"'Cause I like it, Sash." She moved forwards, pressing a soft kiss onto the tip of Sasha's nose, and then pressed their foreheads together. "And I wish you'd show it more."
The blonde felt the softness of Marcy's black bangs on her skin, and leaned into the touch.
Sasha didn't say anything, but accidentally sniffed a little too obviously as she tried to hold some tears back in her closed lids. Marcy, of course, caught on.
"Let me take it off, the makeup." She asked ever-so softly, like it was still a choice, but it was obvious by the "Please," that Marcy would rather she let her.
And she did. Sasha nodded, her eyes now open and already slightly reddened by tears.
Once Marcy was back with the makeup remover, she dabbed it onto a small cotton pad and rubbed it across the scar gently. She knew what it was like for her, the way it apparently stung from time to time, and she didn't wanna be the one to set that off.
As soon as Marcy had removed it, she brought a small square of tissue to her cheek and rubbed away the residue of the solution.
"There, all done!" Marcy smiled, tracing it again, but this time being able to properly feel her skin. "Oh, one last thing."
She leaned forwards once more, switching sides of Sasha's face to hold, and pressing a kiss tenderly to the scar. It only lasted a couple or few seconds, but it made Sasha smile so wide. Marcy pulled back and saw that smile, contagious and brimming, forcing her to smile along with her - and they both just felt so warm. So at home. But still, some emotions were running high, and Sasha's smile contorted slightly as her lip wobbled and her eyes blinked a few times. The tears were welling, and she could feel her nose starting to run a little, which she sniffed back.
"Thanks, I-" She was cut off by a tiny hiccup, the start of some sobs that built up over the minutes. Marcy was still holding her face. "Shit, sorry, Sasha managed to let out between a couple of the early sobs, before Marcy immediately pulled her into a tight hug and began to rub her back.
"No sorry's, silly." She ended up placing another kiss onto the scar, "You're okay." And then another, and another, and another. Over the minutes that Sasha spent crying it out and then calming down, Marcy kissed that scar so much that she actively lost count of how many times she'd kissed it.
She hiccuped again, even as her breathing was steadying, letting out a small "I love you, Marce," right after. It prompted a small giggle from Marcy, who just kissed the scar again, and then made her way to Sasha's lips, planting another kiss there.
"I love you too, Sashy."