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It was no secret that Marcy was cold-blooded.
It had been a long-running joke between the girls, even before the events of Amphibia had taken place; it was a simple fact that Marcy was a cold-blooded creature.
Thing is, the joke had transformed into truth.
It hadn't been unusual for Marcy’s hands to have an unnatural chill to them beforehand, they radiated a cold that left lasting impressions on the other two’s warm skin. Now though, holding her hand felt like holding freshly fallen snow, soft and numbing.
Ever since she had tumbled out of the rejuvenation tank, Marcy had this olive tint to her now. No doubt caused by her now murky green blood that pulses through her veins and arteries. Something that Marcy had explained, would only make her body’s lackluster heat regulation - worse.
Of course, the news wasn’t anything that deterred the other two from holding her hands or tracing patterns into her skin. They would brave the chill that came off of Marcy in waves, determined to bring warmth to her. Marcy never complained about the increase in clinginess from the other two, and in turn, when it came to afternoon cuddle sessions the three of them would be inseparable. Maybe it was that feeling of familiarity, a return to normality, a constant in their hectic lives, that kept them coming back to each other.
It was raining on one such night, and the trees outside were rustling together against the wind. It was howling out there, the only noises being the harsh patterings of rain on concrete and the occasional clap of thunder that would shake the ground.
The smallest of the three sat on their shared apartment balcony, knees tucked delicately into her chest. It wasn’t odd to find her out on the balcony on rainy days like this, she would close her eyes and point her nose up at the cloudy sky; taking in the fresh scents of mud and petrichor that filled the air.
Yet while the breeze was relentless, causing an occasional violent shutter to rack through her body like the lightning that would strike the earth, she would just hug her knees closer. To her, it was peaceful. It was a break from staring at the burning blue light of her tablet, turning out sketch after sketch, revision after revision. She could see how Anne loved going on long walks in the local parks and gardens or how Sasha loved exercising with the sun beating down on her pale back.
The rain, it seemed, was her thing.
She wasn’t the holder of love, a person who radiated all things earth and mother nature.
Nor was she the holder of strength, a person who burnt brighter than the sun itself.
No, she was the holder of wit, she was rain and mist, all things malleable between states. She was soft, like a gentle tap causing ripples in a puddle. She was unyielding, like a river chock full of eccentric energy.
Today, she felt like a puddle.
Today was just one of those days where everything catches up, when rubber boots stomp and little hands splash, leaving very little behind.
And so there she sat, taking in the sight of the rainwater swirling around storm drains, avoiding its capture for as long as possible before being swept into the unknown.
Despite how cold her flesh felt from the breezy assault of the outdoors, despite how the chill nipped at her nose and fingertips, she stayed put on the patio chair. Idly she curls strands of dishevelled black hair around her finger, another reminder that yes, she really is here in this moment.
It wasn’t as if the heavy bags under her eyes or that hazy fatigue settling deep within her bones wasn’t reminder enough.
She barely hears the glass balcony door slide open, then shut with a small click. She’s too lost in the buzzing of her thoughts to pay attention to much of anything, other than how tiny pellets of rain drip off the flower petals in hand-painted pots or the occasional spatter of rain hitting her skin.
“Hey, what are you doing out here?”
Sasha’s husky voice pulls Marcy out of her mind in an instant, and she turns her head to look at her. She’s clad in pyjama shorts and messy blonde hair that could rival Marcy’s own, a fuzzy weighted blanket is draped across her broad shoulders - not that it could ever feel weighted to her though. Marcy’s eyes soften as she leans her cheek to rest against her knee, and lets a mushy smile spread across her face.
“Oh, you know, just enjoying the nice weather,” Marcy says as she rolls her wrist, a vague gesture made towards the growing storm pelting everything in its way.
Sasha huffs and rolls her eyes in a response to Marcy’s light sarcasm, but her own mushy smile is ghosting her lips. She makes her way over to one of the spare patio chairs, dragging it to sit next to Marcy.
Then, in one swift movement, half of the blanket is being tossed over Marcy’s shoulder pulling her into Sasha’s orbit. With the blanket comes a complimentary protective arm, which snakes its way down across Marcy's back, her hand fitting snuggly against her waist.
She hears Sasha let out a small shocked gasp, “Jesus Christ Mars-Bar, you’re freezing!” but there's no move made by Sasha to pull away. Instead, Sasha tugs Marcy a little closer, prompting her to tuck her head under the side of Sasha’s sharp jaw.
“And you’re burning.” Marcy giggles out.
“Ha-ha very funny Mars.”
Sasha’s presence is nice, it’s grounding to have her here. The gentle pressure of the arm and the blanket and her jaw resting on her head pulls her fully back into the present. At this moment, she feels a content sigh escape her lungs, face flushing green from their proximity, flesh thawing from the heat of Sasha’s hot skin.
“Seriously though, what were you doing out here?”
Her voice is filled with concern, it’s a genuine question. They were always so caring of Marcy, sometimes she would feel her heart spill warmth and fondness whenever the other two noticed her absence. Physical or not.
Marcy closes her eyes again, “I don’t know… I guess I just needed a quick break.”
“Feeling overwhelmed again?”
A hum breaks free from the back of Marcy’s throat, a non-verbal confirmation of Sasha’s suspicions. Sometimes, her heart would feel heavy. She isn’t entirely sure why, she can’t pinpoint where it comes from, it would simply just happen. She rationalizes that maybe it’s just leftover guilt, or some form of anxiety or the light inside was becoming too harsh for her eyes, or her skin felt too tight against her muscles, or it was everything or it was nothing.
Another slide and click noise is made from the balcony door.
This time both of the girls on the balcony are met with the sight of Anne, a bandana sweeping her curly hair back and out of her eyes, wearing baggy grey sweatpants and a crop-top that shows off her newly acquired belly button piercing.
In her hands, she miraculously balances three colour-coded cups of cocoa, a skill that Marcy has no doubt was picked up from working at the Thai-go all those years ago.
Carefully, she raises the three cups in a small salute, “Made us some cocoa!” she says excitedly.
Marcy abruptly sits up from Sasha’s side to make grabby hands towards the steaming pale green mug.
It only takes a few moments for the cups to be dished out between the three, Anne pulling up a chair just as Sasha had done not long ago.
This time, however, the blanket is shared over all three of their shoulders. With Marcy sitting in the middle the weight from the other two sides pulls Sasha and Anne into Marcy, both of their heads occupying a shoulder. Not like Marcy was ever bothered by having the two draped over her at any point in time - they were warm.
“Frog- you’re cold!”
Once again Marcy is giggling at the shocked expression, but despite the cold and unpleasantness of her own skin, Anne’s hand comes to Marcy’s back tracing the base of her scar with the pads of her fingertips. Ever so gently rubbing lines up and down on the rough blemished surface.
At first, the difference in temperature and the sensitivity of the scar causes Marcy to jolt at the contact, but she comes to melt into the comforting touch. She rests her flushed face back down against her knees after taking a small sip of cocoa.
They sit in silence for a few minutes, taking in the scene, and enjoying the presence of one another.
“So… Sasha tells me you’re not sleeping very well again.”
Sasha flicks Anne’s nose gently, “Dude!”
“What?”
Listening to her girlfriend's bicker like an elderly couple never failed to plaster a joyful smile on her face. She keeps her eyes on the cocoa in the mug, rubbing her fingers on the ceramic just to feel the smooth matte texture of it.
“Yeah… I think I’m getting burnt out again?” Marcy promised herself that, ever since what was internally dubbed the ‘box’ incident, she would try to be more honest with the two. “I just have so many thoughts running through my head, and they never complete themselves. It’s tiring but I can’t get it to stop… It just keeps going.”
Her voice sounds small against her ears like it takes everything out of her to admit it out loud. Her heart is dully throbbing against her chest, pushing into her throat, and her hands are getting numb from the cold - barely able to continue effectively rubbing against the side of the mug.
She can feel both of her girls slouch further into her, further pouring much-needed warmth onto her.
“Is there anything we can do to help Mars?” Anne’s comforting voice is barely above a whisper, and Sasha’s hand starts rubbing circles into her waist.
All Marcy can do is let out a shaky sigh, let her eyebrows furrow together and her bottom lip tremble slightly.
“Just be here with me now.”
They both give her a reassuring squeeze, one that lets her know that they are there. The pressure always helps, hence the weighted blanket covering the three, shielding them from the harsh biting chill of the wind.
Tears feel like they are stinging at the surface of her eyes, one blink and they will be forced out into the open. And when she does blink, there are hands to wipe them before they can fall off of her face.
Marcy gives a flimsy and wet chuckle, she always finds herself between the sun and the earth.
She wonders to herself if they think about their dynamic like the elements as well.
She feels Anne’s calming presence, the way she feels as soft and as light as the grass yet as calloused and wise as the trees. Her existence alone was like being held in the loving embrace of flowers - she smelt like them too. Like a bouquet of pure love had been presented to her, colourful in its existence, vibrant. The way she loved like the planet, or like a god bestowing life to humanity.
She feels Sasha’s firm radiance, the way she burns with passion and determination, yet she never burns Marcy. She’s something that should be melting her skin, pushing her into the ground like ice cream that's been left out for too long. But instead, she leaves gentle, warm, healing kisses where it hurts most. She was like magic, her very existence left tingling sensations to dance across her skin. When she loved, she loved with persistence, she breathed life into her.
Marcy wants to be the rain for them. She wants to be the ocean, the rivers, waterfalls, lakes, and puddles. Want’s to be there for them in this moment. Want’s to feel the warmth of Sasha heat up her cold exterior, and wants to feel the embrace of Anne like the wind that pushes the grass every which way.
And then she's back in the moment, where she does really feel the two of them smothering her, and she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
“Do…” Her voice catches for a moment from disuse, before promptly clearing her throat, catching the attention of the other two, “Do you guys wanna watch a movie?”
Sasha’s hand abruptly crashes into her hair, shuffling it around like a playground bully and somehow making Marcy’s messy hair even more chaotic, “Of course we do nerd!”
Anne chuckles into her ear, grabbing the half-finished cold cocoa from her hands, standing up and allowing the blanket to fall limp with the absence of her body, “War of The Warlocks?”
“Hmm… Yeah…” Marcy grins sheepishly, she honestly didn’t know how the other two could put up with her comfort movie being a three-hour-long convoluted fantasy movie, about the power of friendship.
The three girls pour through the balcony door, the heat of the apartment attacking Marcy’s senses, making her aware of just how cold she really was out there. Anne Busies herself with cleaning out the mugs and throwing popcorn in the microwave, while Sasha drags Marcy to the couch, draping blanket after blanket on top of her.
When Anne returns with a bowl of fresh buttery popcorn, she is sandwiched between the two underneath the pile of blankets. Their legs tangled together as Sasha slings a protective arm over her shoulder, hand resting on Anne’s shoulder as Anne’s free hand intertwines with Marcy’s.
With a click on the remote, the loud and overly dramatic opening scene starts playing. It’s dark outside now, the occasional rumble of thunder and lightning only added to the atmosphere of the movie.
About thirty minutes in, Marcy starts to feel her mind quiet down.
About an hour and forty minutes in, her eyes start to feel heavy.
And unlike all those years ago, when Sasha and Anne fell asleep during the movie, this time it’s Marcy’s eyelids that fall first.
That last thing she feels is the warmth of her skin, and two soft lips pressing themselves into her temples, lifting the weight from her heart.