Chapter Text
Adora could hear her heart pounding against her chest and her breath coming in short, powerful bursts as she dodged Shadow Weaver’s defense, finally maneuvering out of her grasp and shooting the hoop.
It landed. They always did, but she still felt the same rush of relief every time. It never got old.
“Good job,” Shadow Weaver said, the words bringing a ridiculous amount of joy to Adora’s heart. “Let’s go again.”
“Really?” Adora asked, letting her surprise seep into her tone. A mistake, one that Shadow Weaver’s expression confirmed.
“Do you have somewhere else to be, Adora?” she asked, but it wasn’t a question so much as a threat. Adora knew she shouldn’t have been disappointed or surprised, not really—Shadow Weaver expected nothing but the best from her, and at this point, as a junior and captain of East High’s basketball team, the best meant eating, sleeping, and breathing basketball. But it was New Year’s Eve, and if she was being honest, Adora had hoped for a night off. They’d already been practicing for three hours, and she was exhausted.
“No,” she rushed to say. “I was— well, I was just hoping for a night off. It’s been a hard year, and… well, we’ve already been practicing for so long. Plus, it’s New Year’s Eve.”
Shadow Weaver’s eyes narrowed to slits, clearly not endeared in the slightest by her charge’s suggestion. “I’m aware. The day where everyone your age stays up far too late and wastes themselves on the novelty of welcoming the New Year. Staying up until midnight would be a waste to your career, Adora.”
She winced. “I know. But I was thinking a few hours, not until midnight.” Her internal clock told her that a few hours would barely be possible even if Shadow Weaver did agree— they’d been practicing for so long that it was now four p.m., and Adora was always expected back home by seven in order to make her eight o’clock “curfew” (really, a glorified bedtime). According to Shadow Weaver, a healthy sleep schedule was essential to playing her best game. it was true, but also annoying, considering that Adora’s workload ensured she was more likely to try and stay up until 3am studying than remain “healthy” and “not sleep deprived”.
She was met with silence, and Adora tried to not shuffle under the heavy gaze. She wasn’t sure if this was one of Shadow Weaver’s good days or not, even after hours spent in her company. But whether good or not, the intensity of her stare never failed to make Adora uncomfortable. She’d known it far too long to lead to admonishments and even sometimes physical pain. Without thinking about it, she found herself bracing for the worst.
“Very well,” Shadow Weaver said at length, and Adora looked up to meet her eyes in surprise.
“Really?”
“Yes,” she said flatly, clearly unhappy with the situation but willing to allow it anyway. “Back by seven.”
“Of course. Thank you, Shadow Weaver!”
She simply turned away, done with Adora and this conversation. “Don’t come back before then unless you’re willing to get back to work. This is not something that truly matters, Adora, but I’m willing to make some small allowances since this seems to be something that’s meaningful to you.”
“Thank you, Shadow Weaver,” she said, practically tripping over her words.
There was no response, and Adora could tell by the tense silence that this was her cue to leave. She hurried out the open door of the hotel’s gym with newfound energy, pulling off her sweaty shirt without caring who saw (it was just a bra, after all) and hurrying up to their hotel room to change.
Once she’d changed into a far more comfortable getup of jeans and her red-and-white East High sweatshirt, she went down the stairs to investigate the hotel New Year’s party she’d heard about.
Adjusting her signature ponytail, Adora’s gaze roamed over the crowded room. There was karaoke going, the emcee pulling people out of the crowd when no one volunteered. Ignoring everything to do with that situation, she rushed toward the refreshments table and loaded a plate with nearly everything they had. She wasn’t picky, but she was hungry. Hours of practice could do that to a girl.
She made small talk and admired the pretty decorations in the ballroom for only a few minutes before it happened.
She’d finished her plate and was washing it all down with a long swig of water when suddenly she felt the heat of a spotlight straight in her face and the emcee cheering her on. “The blonde East High student!” he cheered, and she wondered as her eyes darted around whether she’d won something— though she didn’t think there was any sort of raffle going on? Finally, the pieces clicked together in her mind as she set down her cup and saw people cheering her on, clearing a small path to the karaoke stage.
Oh, Christ.
It wasn’t that Adora was bad at singing, and she wasn’t uncomfortable with the attention. It was just… fun. Karaoke was something people did to have a good time, to make themselves laugh and smile. What with Shadow Weaver as her mom and Coach, Adora wasn’t exactly used to doing things just for the fuck of it. “Fun” was kind of a foreign concept to her outside of planned doses mediated by Shadow Weaver that were more recreational than enjoyable.
But everyone was cheering her on, waiting for her to step onto the stage, and what else did she have to do, anyway?
Grinning, she gave in and walked with a calm gait up to the small raised platform.
“Alright! Let’s give it up for—” the emcee leaned away from the microphone and toward Adora. “What’s your name?”
“Adora,” she whispered back.
“—Adora! What song do you want, love?”
She frowned. This part, she hadn’t exactly thought through. Shit, was she supposed to remember the lyrics?
“Wait!” A familiar voice said, barely noticeable through the chatter of the crowd, but the emcee heard and turned to see who was speaking. “I want to duet with her.”
“Oh!” The emcee grinned, clearly delighted by this change in plans. Finally spying the person who’d spoken, Adora’s eyes locked on Catra.
Catra. The universe had to be kidding her.
“Folks, looks like we have a volunteer for a duet!” This succeeded in gaining the crowd’s attention again, and a couple people turned to look as Catra pulled herself up the stairs and smirked directly at Adora.
“Do you two know each other?” the emcee asked.
“We’re old friends,” Catra said before Adora could figure out how the fuck she was supposed to explain to this random guy that they used to be best friends before Adora transferred schools and was adopted by Shadow Weaver and now they hated each other except Adora was pretty sure she was still kind of in love with Catra, but she didn’t know if it was in a romantic way or not.
We’re old friends was definitely more concise.
“Catra,” Catra said to the emcee, smiling charmingly— or, as charmingly as Catra could. Everything she did tended to come off a bit sly, but that was part of her charm. At least, Adora thought so.
“Ladies and gents, Adora and Catra!”
“Er,” Adora said, leaning forward to speak into the mic. “Ladies and gents and people who identify as none of the above.”
The emcee laughed, clearly not taking her seriously, and though annoyance flared up, she pretended not to notice. Catra, on the other hand, nodded at Adora from the corner of her eye in approval. Something Adora hadn’t known was there was let go in her chest, relief flooding her veins. Catra wasn’t a homophobe— or a transphobe, for that matter. She wouldn’t have expected her to be, but… thinking back on some of the comments she’d noticed Shadow Weaver making ever since she realized she was a lesbian, Adora grimaced and knew that you could never be too sure.
“What song then, love?” he asked, although it wasn’t clear if the question was directed toward Adora or Catra. Once again, she had no idea how to answer, but once again, Catra did.
“ Disenchanted. My Chemical Romance.” The emcee startled, opening his mouth to say something but thinking better of it when he saw the look on Catra’s face. The song wasn’t exactly fit for karaoke or a duet, that was for sure, but Catra definitely wasn’t the type of person you wanted to argue with.
The opening melody played, and it all hit Adora at once how well she knew this song.
She didn’t listen to music. Well, she did, but not the way most people did. She listened for simpleminded pleasure, as something to fill up the empty space in her mind, not paying attention to lyrics or even the tune so long as something was playing. She liked loud shit, anything that could drown out her thoughts. But this song— this one, she knew.
When she and Catra were kids, in probably fourth grade or so, they discovered Disenchanted. Catra had always been interested in music, and when she heard the Black Parade album, she latched onto that song. It became their anthem of sorts, even though they could hardly grasp what its lyrics truly implied.
It had been years since Adora listened to any song that reminded her of Catra, but she still knew all the words.
That didn’t mean she could get herself to sing.
Luckily, Catra took over for her, reaching forward and singing into her own mic that had been procured from somewhere or another while Adora was lost in her head. “ Well I was there on the day they sold the cause for the queen / And when the lights all went out, we watched our lives on the screen / I hate the ending myself, but it started with an alright scene. ”
It had been a long, long time since Adora heard Catra sing, but whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t this. Catra’s voice was rough, as if she smoked too many cigarettes (maybe she did) but knew how to take care of her voice anyway. Next to her, Adora was fucking tuneless.
“ It was the roar of the crowd that gave me heartache to sing / It was a lie when they smiled and said you won’t feel a thing / And as we ran from the cops, we laughed so hard it would sting ,” Adora sang, stumbling through the first few words as she tried to regain her footing. She glanced toward Catra— away, then back, then away, then back. She wasn’t quite sure where to look if not at her.
“ If I’m so wrong, ” Catra sang, picking up where she left off, “ how can you listen all night long? ” Her gaze met Adora’s over the microphones, unrelenting and burning, and Adora realized suddenly that this was not a sweet reunion or a bittersweet memory. Catra was angry, and right now, she meant to cause Adora pain. It was stupid, considering that they hadn’t even seen each other in so long. What did Catra have to be angry about right now? But Adora was a moth to a flame, and Catra’s rage was intoxicating.
Two could play at that game.
“ Now, will it matter long after I’m gone? / Because you never learned a goddamn thing / You’re just a sad song, with nothing to say / About a lifelong wait for a hospital stay / And if you think that I’m wrong, this never meant nothing to you. ” Adora joined Catra, singing along with her, their voices fighting to drown each other out past the noise of the recording and the crowd. There was no pretty harmonization or hesitant glances: they stared at each other full-on, an unspoken challenge in each of their gazes.
“ I spent my high school career spit on and shoved to agree / So I could watch all my heroes sell a car on TV / Bring out the old guillotine, we’ll show ‘em what we all mean, ” Adora sang, taking over in the second verse. She was filled with anger, suddenly, but she didn’t scream the words. Pretty noise had always hurt Catra more than a harsh scream.
“ If I’m so wrong, how can you listen all night long? / Now, will it matter after I’m gone? / Because you never learned a goddamn thing / You’re just a sad song, with nothing to say / About a lifelong wait for a hospital stay / And if you think that I’m wrong, this never meant nothing to you. ”
“ So go, go away / Just go, run away / But where did you run to? / And where did you hide? / Go find another way / Price you pay ,” Catra sang, and Adora didn’t offer resistance as she looked in Adora’s eyes and sang the bridge. Gerard Way sang this particular bit with a clawing desperation, and Catra matched that tenfold even as her voice turned oddly sad, a melancholic picture against a bloody and broken background.
“ You’re just a sad song, with nothing to say / About a lifelong wait for a hospital stay / And if you think that I’m wrong, this never meant nothing to you ,” Adora sang, joining Catra. She was shocked out of her anger when Catra was the one to start harmonizing, blending their voices together to something no less harsh but at the very least, a tad more understanding.
“ You’re just a sad song, with nothing to say / About a lifelong wait for a hospital stay / And if you think that I’m wrong, this never meant nothing to you, ” they sang together, and Adora braced herself for these final notes.
“ At all, ” Catra sang, as Adora paused, though she didn’t know why. She certainly hadn’t planned it, but she let Catra finish the song alone, trying to fight off tears that she didn’t understand forming in her eyes.
“Well, well!” the emcee said, reminding her that there were actual people around and that had not, in fact, been just her and Catra aggressively singing along to their old favourite song. “I think that’s the most sexual tension we’ll see here tonight, folks,” he said, and the crowd laughed. Adora tried not to look at Catra. The emcee officially sucked.
“Thank you, Adora and Catra!”
They left the stage without fanfare, not talking or touching or even making eye contact, and Adora wondered if they were going to talk after this. If they were going to discuss what they’d just done. She wondered why Catra did it, she wondered if this meant Catra still hated her or the opposite. She wondered if Catra’d seen her in only her bra earlier.
“You remembered all the words,” Catra said without a backward glance, nearly drowned out by the new karaokeers, and Adora found herself following her to a lonely corner of the ballroom.
“Of course I did.”
“Well.” She paused, took a drink from a red solo cup she’d procured from somewhere, and still didn’t look at Adora. All the intense eye contact from mere moments before was gone. “What with your new friends, new life… can’t be too sure.”
“Catra…”
“Don’t.” She stopped all of Adora’s arguments with the single word. Adora was beginning to realize that maybe Catra knew she hadn’t meant to leave her, that Shadow Weaver keeping Adora and not Catra was something she’d tried again and again to prevent, that she’d never wanted them to grow apart. But Catra was angry nonetheless. Irrationally, yes, but more understandable than she’d thought. Than she did think, really. Adora was trying, but… she was angry too.
She didn’t want to be, but she was.
“I didn’t know you were such a good singer,” she said instead, glancing at Catra’s plaid-clad figure. She looked gorgeous— she always did. She clearly hadn’t put in any extra effort to this event, wearing only ripped black jeans and a button-up red-and-black plaid shirt. Her hair was wild and messy and long, looking almost windswept despite them being inside. A black ballcap sat backwards on her head, and though Adora had never understood that particular fashion trend, on Catra, she thought she might.
“And I didn’t know you could even carry a tune.” She looked at her for the first time since stepping off the stage. She shifted slightly, leaning back against the wall and putting a foot to it to steady herself. Adora thought that probably wasn’t a good idea, considering that they were in a hotel ballroom and Catra was wearing combat boots that looked like they’d seen some shit (maybe literally), but she didn’t comment.
“Yeah,” she said, laughing awkwardly. “A lot has changed in three years.”
“It has.”
“So— how are you? With foster care and everything, I mean,” she said, wanting desperately to know what was going on in Catra’s life but knowing that she didn’t give up details easily. Even when they were at their closest, she didn’t divulge the secrets of her homes before Shadow Weaver. Adora didn’t know if that was because she had some heinous history (god knew Adora did) or if it was simply too personal or too emotional. Either way, she didn’t want to pry. But she did want to know, so help her, god.
Catra’s responding laugh was sarcastic. “I’m simply grand . Still with Shadow Weaver?” She returned to staring at some fixed point in the crowd, taking another sip from her cup. Adora felt a pang in her chest, knowing how much talking about Shadow Weaver hurt her. Maybe she shouldn’t have brought up foster care at all.
“Yeah,” she said quietly, rubbing her arm and staring at the floor. “I really did want her to keep you, too, you know. I know— I mean, she’s not the best, but— I wanted us to be together.” Her voice dropped to a whisper and she didn’t dare look up to meet Catra’s eyes lest she be deterred. “I get that you’re angry, and you’re— you’re allowed to be. It hurts, but you’re allowed to be. I respect that. But you have to know that I never meant for us to be separated.”
“I’m glad I’m not with Shadow Weaver,” Catra said curtly, turning to face Adora with a glare that cut like a knife. “Her giving me up was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Adora winced. She heard the hidden implication in that: leaving Adora was the best thing that ever happened to her. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, she wanted to do whatever it took to bring her best friend back.
But Catra was right, ultimately, in her assessment. Shadow Weaver was never good to either of them, but she was worse to Catra.
Adora wanted to stay with Catra. She didn’t want either of them to be with Shadow Weaver. The only way for them to be together was for them to both be with her. This was Adora’s neverending conundrum, but the worst part of it was that in the end, she had no control either way.
“I’m glad,” she said quietly. “That you’re happy now.”
“I never said I was happy.”
“No,” she said after a long moment. “I guess you didn’t.” She paused, looked at Catra, looked away. “Are you?”
Catra finished her drink with one long swallow, set it on a nearby table, and grabbed Adora’s hand. The weight of Catra’s hand in hers was something Adora hadn’t felt in a long time, but it still felt more familiar than any other action in the world, even that of throwing a ball in the net or dribbling across the field. She inhaled sharply, looking down at Catra with a question in her eyes.
“C’mon," Catra said, not answering either of the inquiries she posed. “Let’s go on an adventure.”