Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

To love is to hurt yourself repeatedly in the process, break your heart in two.

Hypothetically speaking, if there were two life vests left in a sinking ship, Marcy would rather give it to Sasha and Anne. Survivability is nothing but a cinch for one Marcy Wu, but could she really live without her lifelines? Her best friends? It sounds stupidly heroic for someone as selfish as her, but if she needs to cross a line for them, she would.

Marcy knew overboard codependency is borderline toxic, perilous for their fragile innocence. But could you blame a thirteen year old child for wishing things to stay the same if that’s all she ever knew, even if it means doing everything?

The stagnancy of life was what Marcy enjoyed, school with her friends, a rigorous grind of her favorite JRPG for the week, and studying were enough for her. A routine she grew accustomed to, a routine she loved. She knew she was smart, being brandished as a prodigy during the young age of five does something to you when you grow up. Everyone reaches out to her, a crowd of "Marcy how did you do this?" or "Marce can you help me with this?" and "Can I copy your homework?" clamors for her, and the validation they give her feels like a reward. Despite it, no one really entertains her existence. Being interested in every possible topic under the sun isn't usually liked by other people. As she heard from before, it was "extra noise". It feels nice to be needed, but sometimes she wonders what it feels like to be genuinely wanted.

Well, Marcy never really mopes about it. As long as Anne needs a tutor on mathematics and Sasha needs the answer key to their physics test, she is a part of them. Their perfect little trio. Anne is a good listener, and Sasha does what she can to protect them. Marcy helps them in school so they could all slack off and run around like goofy teenagers. They all complement each other in ways that the other won't be left behind.

Yet sometimes, Marcy's chest feels painted with grief. It feels green. Vines wrapping her heart and clogging her lungs, painting her thoughts with ugly, scarring emotions. She feels it whenever Sasha remembers Anne's crush back in first grade, but never recognizes her favorite character in Vagabondia Chronicles. It's in the way Anne emptily nods after Marcy explained the whole twist of War of the Warlocks and switching the topic in a hot second. 

But it's alright. Marcy belongs to their little group even if she's meant for necessity. They look out for each other, or at least she hoped.

It's alright if Sasha's the sun and Anne is the sea, matching sandy summer vibes of salt air and everything nice. While Marcy's there when the sun sleeps, and the sea pushes and pulls harder than before. Marcy could act as the cold wintry moon, she could play her part well. And it's okay if both of them reach out for her during vulnerable nights when the light of the day fails to reach their fragile souls as they cling for her— Marcy, Marcy —because this is where she belongs. Even if it feels like a stupid midnight love.

( In an orange-hued throne room of regrets, Marcy would realize that holding on to your friends is dangerous—especially if the bond is bound to break. )

“Check these out!” Marcy sings-songs as she drops two 20-sided dice, one yellow and one pink, on Anne’s and Sasha’s hands respectively.

Sasha raises a brow while Anne smiles a little, confused with the innocent yellow dice on her hand. Marcy wonders about their reactions at first, but human expressions weren’t exactly rocket science for her. Specifically if it’s her Anne and Sasha. 

“It’s for you guys! You know, for Creatures and Caverns?” Marcy supplies, “You guys know the basics, right?”

Anne subtly nudges Sasha, to which the blonde shushes her for with a quick glare.

“Of course Marbles!”

“Uh yeah!”

Oh. 

“Well, we should set a date for the campaign!”

But Marcy clings to that false hope that maybe, maybe Sasha and Anne actually listened to her. Maybe they did their research just like she did when Sasha talked about the recent drama series or when Anne told her all about different types of soulmates. Marcy tried her best to catch up with their topics, with their interests. Maybe, maybe , they tried as well?

Anne smiles and it's cruel for Marcy’s little heart, “Sure Marmar!”

And maybe, just maybe, they would attend this time around?

( Marcy knew how selfish it was to force her friends to like her interests. And yet she still smiled and hoped for the best, chanting "Oh well, maybe next time." when their apologies come barging in an hour later. )

“Hey, you’re Marcy right? Sasha’s smart friend?”

Marcy closes her locker with a small ‘thump’ and turns around to Vince, a classmate in biology class. He had always looked intimidating but Sasha repeatedly vouched for him, saying that the tough looks hide the soft character of the guy.

“Yup, that’s me!” Marcy replied, “Do you need anything?”

Vince shows her a paper, “I was wondering if you could see if I did something wrong in this assignment.”

“Oh, you should interchange these. This is the diopter adjustment and this is the nose piece,” Marcy says after a quick scan, pointing out the parts that need to be changed, before handing the paper over.

“Cool, cool. Thanks Marcy,” Vince says.

Before she could even say ‘you’re welcome’ as basic courtesy, Maggie is clapping Vince on the back, voice loud and boisterous, “Hey Vince! Whatcha doing with nerdy Marcy?”

Marcy winced at the nickname but still offered a kind smile to Maggie, who seemed to profoundly ignore her despite recognizing her presence.

“Sasha told me to ask for her help in bio in case I need one.” Vince shrugs, “Thanks again Marcy,” he says as they start to walk away.

Maggie giggles, “I bet Sasha only keeps Marcy around for the answers. Sasha and Boonchuy seem to be closer than her anyway, they are like soulmates…”

Oh. 

Marcy could feel the ugly green speaking inside her. It’s evil, the way it tells her that Maggie’s right, Marcy Wu had always been a tool and never a friend. But she never believes it anyway, because Sasha can’t possibly stick around for seven years just because Marcy’s “necessary” right? She’s been a good friend, and Anne would tell her if she did something wrong that angered Sasha. But what struck her most was what Maggie called her friends. 

Soulmates.

“Hey Marce! Were you just talking to Vince?” 

Like a spell, a dark summon, Sasha appears by her locker door. She has her right arm pressed against the lockers, leaning against it with a phone with her left hand. Sasha’s presence has always been remarkable, a shift in the wind as people say. But for Marcy, Sasha becomes her shield of some sorts. A shield from the weird stares, from the whispers they throw at her.

“Uh, yeah, he needed help on an assignment,” Marcy says, voice little, as she looks down at her feet.

Marcy could feel Sasha stand up from her slacked position against the lockers, and in a second, her fancy black shoes are in front of her. But Marcy doesn’t look up, she doesn’t get the chance to. Because Sasha’s tilting her head up with two fingers under her chin, a questioning worried look plastered on the blonde’s face. 

“Are you okay Marbles?”

All of Marcy’s coherent, self-deprecating thoughts have scrambled inside her head, her stomach feeling mushy and flying. Because Sasha’s little touch feels fire, and the smell of her vanilla perfume becomes too much for her. Marcy could feel her heart pounding inside her ears, and it’s outstanding how Sasha could always make her feel like a stuttering mess—

“Marcy?”

Marcy steps back, broken from the little trance she had. Her eyes looked bewildered, and puts a hand on the locker to steady herself. 

“Sash! O-of course I’m alright!”

Sasha crosses her arms and very much unconvinced, “Did they pick on you? I swear if they ever laid a finger on you—”

“No, no! Of course not!” Marcy quickly replies and taps Sasha’s arm, “Come on now! We’re going to be late for class.”

The thing with Sasha’s protectiveness is that it would always be scary. Her anger is not a force to be reckoned with, although Anne had tested her waters numerous times. The bullying Marcy received lessened only because Sasha picks fights with them, sometimes going as far to report them to her own father, which most often than not makes the bullies tremble in their boots. Since then, Marcy only suffered the weird stares and occasional nicknames. It was never bad like this, but she refuses to tell Sasha. It would be another problem.

Marcy attempted to calm down the numerous feelings swirling about inside her belly as they walked side by side. When they arrived at the classroom door, they stepped inside and took their respective seats. Sasha still has a concerned expression on her face, but she chooses to keep silent. Marcy, aware of Sasha's piercing attention, gives the blonde a comforting smile. It only made her scowl worse, and she got up to talk to Marcy, but that's when Anne came around, cheering a loud 'yes' for beating her regular time.

Sasha’s attention narrowed to Anne, and they both fell into their usual rhythm, topics sprouting left and right. Marcy sighs, in relief and in disappointed realization. Relief that Sasha drops the topic and the worry, and disappointment…Marcy doesn’t want to think about it that much yet.

“Heyya Marmar! We’re going to the arcades after class, do you wanna come?” Anne asks, already seated in front of her.

“Don’t you have, like, chess practice later?” Sasha follows up, dropping down to the seat on her right casually.

“Uh, I don’t,” Marcy says, a twinge of ache lingering a little because it’s a Thursday, they don’t have chess practice during Thursdays.

“Oh…well come with us then! It’ll be fun!” Sasha quickly replies, trying to ignore that she just forgot Marcy’s schedule, “And you really need to tell me what’s bugging you girl.”

Marcy could only smile in reply because their homeroom teacher just entered the room, leaving Anne confused and unable to ask what transpired before she arrived.

Halfway to the arcades, Sasha kept bugging Marcy on what happened with Vince. Anne, her pretty face morphed into concern, was on board with the question, throwing out guesses and such. But Marcy waved it off, gripping the straps of her backpack harder as they resumed walking in familiar silence. Sasha has always been the storm. If she wants chaos, she’ll get it. If she needs a stone to break, she would. Sooner or later, she would know and it would be ugly, so Marcy chooses to bask in the warmth of Sasha’s protectiveness for now, before that heat finally reaches its boiling point.

But right now, it seems that Sasha has forgotten Marcy’s worries, and Marcy herself. 

Marcy’s gaze never left her best friends as they swept level after level in Super Dance Fusion. It was fun seeing them so exhilarated, that kind of enjoyment they both share when it comes to their hobbies. The kind of excitement Marcy barely felt when they tried to play Creatures and Caverns once, or that kind of genuine interest that she never saw when she finally forced them to watch War of the Warlocks. 

In front of her, Anne and Sasha sat wearily on the metal bars, laughing giddily and panting in between giggles as they waited for the next stage to play. Anne’s gaze fell on her, and her smile dropped in an instant. Marcy’s mind wanted for it to happen. She wanted for them to realize that she’s still here . But it clashes with her irrational thoughts badly wanting for Anne to never stop smiling even if it meant she’s without them. Even if it meant that Marcy feels left out.

“Hey Marbles, you alright?” Anne asks.

Marcy’s eyes fell on her phone, “I’m alright!” 

“You can go ahead, Marce!” Sasha says, the adrenaline from their game never dying down a bit, “Me and Anne will just finish this stage and we’ll follow.”

“Sashimiiii, I’m okay! Look, I just need to write something down for our next campaign—”

“Okay, okay, cut it nerdy. Game’s starting!”

And though she hears the affectionate tone in Sasha’s words, Marcy’s brain kind of delays when it comes to picking social cues. Her mouth fell shut immediately, an apologetic smile on her lips. It’s not that it hurts, Sasha just never liked it if she’s distracted.

Pushing her thoughts aside, Marcy watched her best friends go through the extreme level. Their movements are carefully in sync, the tempo is faster than before while Sasha and Anne graced the dance with elegance. It’s as if they were in a battle, fighting back to back against the Lich King’s undead horde. Sasha moves down, Anne strikes up, Sasha moves to the right, Anne steps to the left. Their movements cover each other’s blind spots, it’s as if they complement each other so well. Like jigsaw puzzles finally slotting in together. 

Like…like soulmates.

The gears in Marcy’s head ceased to turn, her heart thumping loudly in her chest. 

Like soulmates.

She finally reached a result. 

“Aah! Sasha! We did it!”

“Girl I told you!”

The two collided for a hug as they jumped up and down on the platform. Anne and Sasha’s smiles were blinding, like winning Super Dance Fusion means everything to them. Their excitement simmered down to giddy conversations. And away from Anne’s knowledge, her innocence and obliviousness, Marcy sees the way Sasha’s hand stopped mid-air aimed to reach Anne—no, Anne’s cheek. 

How will she fit in the equation?

( In a distant future, Marcy’s breath hitches when Anne’s hand rests on her cheek. Marcy feels the heavy guilt as if Justice stares at her disapprovingly. She closed her eyes and Anne was taken aback. )

During their next sleepover, Marcy started to understand why Sasha and Anne are soulmates.

They paused the movie midway because of course they would, Marcy picked it , and decided on playing truth or dare. So far, the bottle kept on pointing at Anne that she already chose 4 truths and 2 dares, while Marcy was answered truth 3 times. On the other hand, the bottle only had fallen on Sasha once throughout the whole game. It was kind of unfair since Sasha’s the one asking dares and truths while being the bottle master. And Anne’s upset, downturned lips are not helping their situation at all.

“Yeah, I did have a crush on James in 4th grade! Geez Sash, what is with you and crushes?” Anne asks as she slumped and crossed her arms.

“Chill out Anne, it’s just a crush!” Sasha laughs, “All good, right Marmar?”

This is not good .

Both of her friends’ looked at her expectantly—one pleading and one probing. Marcy was never good with decisions, she never had a say on their plans, never made a decision for the group. Why are they making it hard for her now?

Marcy’s eyes caught the sight of the bottle, aimlessly moving along the wind’s direction. Before she could even think, which was weird because she always thinks , Marcy grabbed the bottle on the floor and spun it hard.

“What are you doing?” 

There was an edge in Sasha’s tone, a dangerous one, and Marcy tried not to freeze under it.

“Oh, I just thought you guys wanted the game to keep going,” she lied.

It was Sasha’s turn to cross her arms with a huff, “Alright.”

Anne shot Marcy a thankful smile and for some reason, her chest ached. Marcy opted to smile back but it soon dropped when the bottle slowly turned to her…but ended up pointing at Sasha.

“It’s your turn Sasha,” Anne says, her voice lighter than earlier, to which Sasha uncharacteristically stiffened to.

“Truth.”

Anne laughed, forgetting the predicament they were put in earlier, “You can’t pass this one out Sash! Who’s your crush?”

Marcy noticed the quick grimace on Sasha’s face before she slackened her face to an unfazed look. “No one, all the boys in our grade are ugly,” Sasha says.

Anne frowned, “Okay—”

“You can’t answer no one Sasha,” Marcy quips, “Anne answered that earlier and you still probed her until she told you.”

Marcy didn’t mean to make the situation awkward as it is, but she wants to know. Her head refuses to think why, and she refuses to realize that it’s green jealousy clogging up her lungs.

“Easy Marce, I just don’t have a crush, simple as that.”

Sasha’s eyebrows are slightly scrunched, lips lying in a flat line. It’s a telltale sign that Sasha is not liking this one bit. 

“Who is it?” Marcy insisted.

When Sasha’s gaze quickly shifted to Anne before resting on Marcy again, it was a quick answer for her. Of course. Actions speak louder than words. Of course, it’s Anne .

“Whoa Marcy, that’s a little harsh don’t you think?” Anne says, “Let’s just spin the bottle.”

The sound Marcy made in the back of her throat barely sounded like approval but her friends took it as it is. The look Marcy shot Anne, confused and utterly betrayed, was taken down with a stern expression. Why? She just wanted to help Anne. Sasha was being so persistent that it obviously upsets Anne, but when Marcy’s being the protector, her knight in shining armor, suddenly she’s the bad guy? It just doesn’t make sense.

When her attention was drawn away from her murky thoughts by the sound of her friends’ bell-like laughter, she remembers why. Of course.  

Soulmates are built for each other, their purpose is to protect and cherish their destined pair. That’s what the dictionary and the internet told her. That’s how Sasha and Anne are. They’re soulmates after all. 

( “I was trying to save you from Sasha that time.” 

“Marce, you know it’s just Sasha—”

“But she hurt you.”

They’re not talking about that sleepover anymore.

Anne instinctively gazed at Marcy’s cheek, near her eye— actions speak louder than words —and reality dawned upon her.

“Yeah, but I hurt her too.”)

What Marcy can't seem to decipher is the aching in her chest whenever she thinks about the whole soulmates matter. The mere thought of Anne and Sasha finally figuring it out sends her emotions in a haywire. It's a feeling she can't put a finger on, one she can't figure out. 

“Whatcha doing Marmar?” Anne asks with genuine curiosity.

This is one of the rare moments Anne willingly accompanies her to the library to “geek out” or do her “nerd stuff”. But she can’t help the twinge of hurt she feels whenever Sasha smiles a little strained, an excuse already out of her mouth before Marcy could even invite her. Sasha’s absence feels like a gaping hole in their little friendship.

( Marcy wonders, before her consciousness fades away along the throbbing pain in her chest, if they could feel the gaping hole in their hearts too. )

Before Marcy could answer her, Anne is already snooping in her notebook, “Soulmates? Hold up, that’s not a study topic. Wait, did that teacher give you additional work again?”

“Soulmates?” Marcy asks dumbly, then it sinks in, “That’s nothing!”

Marcy tries to cover the pages of her journal, shying away the content it contains, “It’s just an observation, silly—”

“Observation? On soulmates?” Anne almost jumps out of her seat, voice high-pitched and definitely invested, “Lemme see!”

Marcy immediately pried the journal away, shutting it close with a loud pop. Her heart thundering loudly inside her chest.

“Sorry, it’s inappropriate to disclose the subject's identity!” she says in a haste, tucking the journal inside her bag in a flash.

“Even to your best best friend?” Anne pouted and dragged her chair closer to Marcy.

In this little space that they have, Marcy couldn’t breathe. Anne kept on insisting with her small mumbles while placing her head on Marcy’s shoulder. She can’t hear her, the pounding of her heart continuously echoes loudly in her ears. Her eyes can’t seem to peel away from the sight of Anne being so cuddly with her, even if her face feels like it will combust soon due to the heat. 

“Come on Marmar, pretty pwease?”

When she looked up with her signature puppy teary eyes, Marcy lost her ability to think. Her mind barely registers the concern on Anne’s gaze or the way Marcy’s own eyes flitted from her friend’s eyes to her lips. Marcy could barely think about Sasha’s presence, their own little bubble feeling more complete than ever. This is where Marcy wants to be. They are so close. So close. If Marcy could just bend down a little then maybe her heart won’t ache that much anymore—-

“...show me the soulmate observation, Marbles?”

She scrambles away as if she’s been burnt.

Oh. Oh.

“S-soulmates?”

Right. The soulmates. Her soulmate.

Sasha.

“Are you okay Marce? You seem a little off—”

Marcy chuckled, scratching her nape, “I really can’t disclose their information Anne, sorry.”

Anne frowns, “Okay, that’s alright,” she says and scoots away from Marcy’s chair with her own.

No, please don’t go, don’t be sad, Anne please—

“Buuuuut! I could tell you my findings!”

In a second, Anne’s eyes lit up like Christmas lights on a dark wintry night. 

“Sure!”

Anne moves closer again, but Marcy kept her distance as she rambled on random statistics that Anne probably never paid attention to. But it’s alright, Marcy could live in this safe place where a line between them is drawn. Anne is for Sasha. Sasha is for Anne.

It’s that simple.

But her hopefulness for them can’t seem to grasp the thought of it.

( Cold summer air hits Marcy’s tear-streaked face. Why is she such a coward? )

“Sorry for this again Sash,” Marcy mumbles.

Sasha chuckles through labored breaths, beads of sweat falling from her brow, “Hey no problem Marce, you’re really light.”

Accidents weren’t a rare case for one Marcy Wu. She always finds herself in the school clinic for a bleeding nose, bruising forehead, and the list goes on. Apparently, PE classes lengthened her records of physical misfortunes—ankle sprain. It was simple really, they were doing ballroom dancing when Anne tried to twirl her. Emphasis on the word tried, as Marcy was halfway on the spin, she twisted her left foot in a very horrible way. Both of her friends brought her to the clinic immediately and stayed with her ‘til the classes ended.

Anne accompanied her as they walked home but they soon had to part ways which leaves Marcy with Sasha. Her blonde friend didn’t seem to mind guiding her to walk—she just had…other methods of helping Marcy. 

And this involves Sasha carrying Marcy on her back.

The silence between them was usual. They don’t have anything to talk about when Anne’s not around, and their interests don’t usually align as well. Sometimes it’s hard to be around Sasha without Anne as their middle man.

Sasha clears her throat, “So, Anne huh?”

Marcy lets out a disgruntled noise and props her chin on Sasha’s shoulder, “W-what about Anne?”

What made this awkward for Marcy was her…recent self revelations. First, she thinks that Sasha and Anne are soulmates (which gets more obvious day by day they are together). Second, Marcy realizes that…she really really really likes Anne. Sure it once again falls to the cliche childhood trope, but come on! Why did it have to be her? Why did she have to fall for someone who already has her soulmate?

“She picked you for ballroom dancing earlier.”

“Oh, w-what about it?” Marcy says with a chuckle.

Sasha pauses for a bit and faces Marcy halfway— too close too close too close —to glance at her. 

“Isn’t it obvious Marce?” 

Sasha’s tone seemed to lose its teasing lilt, sounding more serious and a little bit confused. All the more reason to put Marcy on edge. She isn’t sure what Sasha wants from her that she keeps asking about Anne. Marcy isn’t good with reading between people’s lines.

“What is…? Sorry Sash, I don’t understand—”

“It’s…” she sighs, “It’s alright Marbles. Come on, let’s get you home.”

That doesn’t quell the anxiety blooming inside her chest. She kept on fidgeting her fingers absent-mindedly, breath quickened than usual. Her thoughts are all formed into mush but all revolve on Sasha and her odd questioning. But it’ll be okay, her house is already coming into view. Yet it refuses to give her comfort, the mere thought of entertaining herself in an empty home will always be Marcy’s fear. It would be better if she plays numerous games to avoid thinking, or hearing her parents fight over and over again to at least lessen the chaos which is her head, or it’s better to be carried by Sasha and her inquisitive tone in sun-bathed sidewalks and her cherry-scented lip balm—

Warm hands hold her own.

“Marce?”

She glances at Sasha who’s now magically in front of her, clasping both of their hands. She didn’t even notice that she was already set down carefully on the pavement.

“Huh?”

“You kept doing that thing with your fingers? And that sorta means you’re troubled with something,” Sasha says, trying to act nonchalant but her tone gives it away.

“Oh, right, sorry Sasha,” Marcy mumbles as she smiles.

“Stop,” she huffs, “apologizing.”

Marcy stares at her wide-eyed, “Okay but why?”

“You literally didn’t do anything wrong Marcy. I insisted on carrying you too, so don’t apologize. Mkay?” 

“Okay Sash, sorry—”

“Marbleeees.”

Marcy chuckles and soon Sasha was laughing alongside her too. This feels nice…kind of refreshing. They weren’t really strayed away from each other, but they weren’t as close as they are to Anne. It just felt new for Sasha to reassure her. Maybe not new, but it feels really nice.

“So…why were you asking about Anne earlier?” Marcy asks.

Sasha’s grip slightly tightens on her hands. Her eyes refused to look at Marcy, and her lips turned into a frown. Slowly, Sasha retracts her arm and Marcy’s fingers lose all the warmth, she doesn’t think about how she craves for it the split second she loses Sasha’s touch.

“I…it was nothing really. I just think that it’s best if we partner up next time,” Sasha says, a cautious expression worn on her face, “Anne might have been a clumsy partner, that’s all.”

Marcy sighs in relief, “Whew. Glad to know! We could always partner up next time! Specifically after this baby heals,” she says, pointing at her sprained ankle.

Sasha smiles and hooked her fingers on her backpack straps, “Of course Marmar. I’ll see you tomorrow at school!” 

With that, Sasha walks away. Marcy carefully limped towards her house with a rested smile on her face. She really doesn’t know how to live without Sasha, or both of her friends. Although codependency itself is harmful for all of them, Marcy can’t help but feel safe within their arms. Especially now that Sasha’s going to be her partner for the next PE lessons—

What.

Marcy stopped in front of their door. Her mouth slowly went agape, eyes wide in realization.

She’s going to dance with the Sasha Waybright.

( “Guys…?”

…

“Anne—” )

Marcy could live with the whole “my best friends are soulmates” thing. 

Sasha and Anne ran off to somewhere she wasn’t invited to? Cool, cool. They need their time with each other. Anne gave Sasha a red heart for Valentines while she got a green one? Sure, she’s just a friend anyway. Sasha danced with Anne for their school program? That’s fine, Marcy’s not into dancing. They bought red, blue, and green charms while completely forgetting that green is a secondary color? No problem. Marcy’s definitely not overthinking every single detail, not really.

What she could not live with is her overwhelming need to be with them.

Anne and Sasha are meant for each other. One way or another, Marcy will be forced to be pushed aside. There isn't enough space for three halves of hearts. Why was it so hard to push inside her little mind?

But she always counters, it’s just a dumb thing Maggie said anyway. She has no basis, no facts, no anything. And yet the fear grabs her by the neck everyday she sees them enter the room together, express the slightest affection for each other, or even just pass gazes, everything they do that feels so…intimate. Marcy feels like she’s an intruder. It almost feels like being a visitor in your own home. She can’t deny that Sasha and Anne fill in those little cracks they have, becoming whole. Completing each other.

Marcy, buried in the dark of the night and incessant wanting, selfishly wishes that they have more cracks to share with her.

Sasha and Anne’s relationship was never perfect. Power imbalance runs between them like an aging erosion waiting for them to fall apart. Sasha leads and Anne follows, Sasha orders and Anne steers. That’s how their dynamic falls and it never goes unnoticed. 

“I can’t just disobey my parents, Marce!” 

When the cracks show, the in-betweens that Sasha can’t fill, Marcy is there to be her substitute.

Anne groans into her pillow, “Why is Sasha so…so…persistent?”

Marcy lets her muscle memory finish the solution for Anne’s homework, “In Sasha’s defense, you do kind of disobey your parents. Maybe she thought it was okay.”

Anne whines, “Why are you taking her side?”

Marcy stopped writing to glance at Anne who sat on her unmade bed, her eyebrows furrowed and gaze conflicted. Using both of her feet to push the chair towards Anne’s bed, Marcy’s expression softens to empathize with her friend.

“Anna Banana, hey,” she grasps her hands, “I’m not siding with anyone. I’m just worried for the both of you.”

Anne’s light touch pressed harder against Marcy’s skin, “I know, I know. I just feel so trapped with her decisions. It’s like you’re under a dictator.”

She’s not a dictator, she just needs control—

“I get what you mean.” Marcy sits beside her on the bed.

Anne places her head on Marcy’s shoulder immediately, as if on instinct. Marcy froze from the initial contact before warming up to Anne’s touch. 

“I just hope she understands,” Anne quietly mumbles.

“I understand Anne,” Marcy says as she grasps for Anne’s hand, mustering her genuineness in one gaze, “Sasha will understand too.”

They stayed like that for a while, the silence enveloping them with comfort. Despite it, Marcy’s thoughts are on a haywire. Viewing this from an outside perspective, what Anne did was right. She can’t stay up after school due to flunking almost half of her tests. The Boonchuys, despite being kind, are very strict with priorities. They grounded Anne for a week, only allowing them to hang out if it’s in her house and a study session. This did not sink well with Sasha because she was about to throw a party during the same week Anne is grounded. She bribed Anne immediately but she stood her ground, no longer wanting to anger her parents.

It did not sit well with Marcy too with how Sasha pulled all her cards and pushed all of Anne’s buttons to get what she wanted. When Marcy chose to intervene, the fight was already turning towards the worst, which is Anne walking out with Marcy in tow.

What Anne did was logical. So why does Marcy find herself defending Sasha?

It just doesn’t add up.

“Oh crud! You were helping me with math, right?”

Marcy snaps out of her thoughts and nods, “Ready to give it a go?”

Anne groans and drags her hands on her face, this time it’s more of a playful reaction, “Not that I have a choice, do I?”

A content smile falls on Marcy’s lips despite the inner turmoil. As long as she’s here and wanted, it’ll be okay for her. It has to be what she wanted, right?

The party started once Sasha deemed that the crowd was big enough for it. It isn't so bad after all. It was scheduled just right after class and it meant Sasha needed a hand in decorating and helping. With Anne and Sasha still fighting and Anne’s curfew still not lifted, Marcy is left alone with the blonde again.

“What’s the party for Sash, by the way?” Marcy asks, after Sasha the blonde finished her chat with a classmate of theirs.

“Oh nothing. Can you put that here, Marbles?” Sasha asks, the switch-up too quick.

Marcy brings the pink ladle and places it on the juice container, “It just seemed out of nowhere? Is this a surprise announcement just like last year?” she asks enthusiastically.

Last year, Sasha threw a party in the same empty mansion. It was a surprise announcement to celebrate Sasha’s promotion as cheerleading captain of their team. By that time, the three of them knew of this already and had celebratory milkshakes after school, already planning for the said party.

“It’s really nothing. Exams ended, we need to relax,” Sasha says with a shrug.

Marcy stops stirring with the juice ladle, a sudden thought coming, intrusive and deadly.

“Are…” she trails off, and Sasha looks at her, expectant, “Are Vince and Maggie here?”

Sasha shrugs her shoulders off, “Yeah, maybe? I invited them. Glad that they are here, unlike—”

Marcy continues on with her party task, disregarding the idea of Maggie excluding her from their trio. Besides, Anne isn’t here, as implied by Sasha. And she could just show them that Sasha does like her even without school, even if she does give them answers for tests. Marcy could be someone for Sasha too, not just a necessity.

“Marbles.”

The latter looks up, and Sasha’s staring down at her, hands planted firmly on the long table where the foods were placed. Her tone wasn’t cheery as well, it sounds strict and tethering over the edge. 

“Did they pick on you?”

Marcy shook her head, “No, no I-I just don’t think…” she sighs, “I don’t think Maggie would be nice to be around.”

Sasha squints, “Knew it. I can form a sick plan as revenge, do you want to?”

Marcy’s eyes widened, “No, no, it’s alright—”

“No one messes with my friends, especially you and Anne. So be a good girl and let me do this for you okay?” Sasha flashes her a saccharine smile while refilling her cup, and it triggers Marcy’s fight-or-flight sense.

Sasha strides away from her and towards Maggie who’s been laughing with Vince. She looks harmless. Maybe if Marcy didn’t say anything, there won’t be impending doom to crash upon the ginger girl.

“Hey Margo, girl!” Sasha calls sweetly and Maggie beckons to her call obediently, a small giggle and a “Hi Sash!”

But Sasha’s smile drops, “You know my friend Marcy?”

“Oh, nerdy Marcy right—”

Gasps filled the room. The music abruptly stopped. From the startled crowd, Marcy’s the only one who moved and ran towards Sasha, who had her arms crossed and an empty cup.

“What the hell Waybright?” Maggie says, wiping down the juice spilled on her front jacket. 

“That’s for Marcy. I think that’s enough for you to leave her alone.”

Maggie, deeply frowning, defends herself, “But I didn’t do anything! Tell her Marcy.”

All of the gazes then focused on Marcy like a spotlight and she trembled under it. She looks at Sasha, and the worry she carries in her eyes. If she could pluck them out and blow them all away, she would.

“No, no, she didn’t do anything wrong. I-it’s just the nickname and the soulmate thing…” Marcy trails off.

Oh. That isn’t right is it? Because Marcy never minded being viewed as a necessity. What really bothered her was Sasha and Anne being called soulmates…right?

“What?” Sasha says in a shivering breath.

“Oh, was little Marcy bothered with Sasha and Anne being soulmates?” Maggie asked, and it called for a fight, for something that would enrage Sasha.

As if the first incident didn’t shock everyone, the crowd still gasped when Sasha’s gripped fists found the front of Maggie’s jacket. Sasha pushed her to the closest wall harshly, and people weren’t even bold enough to stop the fight.

“What…where did you hear that?” Sasha asks, and it’s silent. Not a request, a demand.

Maggie looked scared as she replied, “I-It’s just that you and Anne…seems closer than the three of you are…? But of course not, you guys are not soulmates because those are for romance—”

Sasha shoved Maggie to the wall harder, dropping her there and hastily walked up to the stairs. The crowd broke out, music resuming. Maggie’s friends also have helped her up, already planning to ditch the party. Although people stared at Marcy, partly concerned and half furious, Marcy couldn't get herself to care since she was sprinting up the steps of Sasha's mansion. The stairway leads to a corridor of rooms, but she's known the path to Sasha's room since she was six. They have a talent of finding each other, like magic or miracles. 

Marcy carefully opened the door to see Sasha standing inside her big princess-like room. The blonde didn’t even look bothered, only shaken and…scared?

“Sasha,” Marcy says but her call isn’t replied to.

Marcy moves closer to Sasha, “Sash?” she asks, trying to look at Sasha’s eyes, “Can…can I touch you?”

Sasha’s breathing feels uneven when she replies, “Please.”

Marcy holds her hands and guides her towards the couch, “Are you okay?”

Sasha does not respond right away, and Marcy allows her to do so. Marcy simply holds Sasha's hands, gently caressing her thumb on her fingers. She opens Sasha's palm, glancing up to see whether it disturbs her, but she appears more at ease than ever. So Marcy began tracing the lines on her hand, attempting to figure out if one of Sasha's errant ropes links her heart to Marcy. She was curious whether Anne was there as well, if they would be together no matter what, if...if they were all soulmates.

“Marcy…does everyone think that…?”

The girl shook her head in return, “I don’t think so, Maggie just thought you two were closer…”

She marveled at the thought you guys were leaving me behind.

“What happened there?” 

Marcy was met by a solemn hush. Sasha sighed and closed her eyes. When their eyes meet, one defeated and one concerned, the understanding settles in. It was foreseen, just like the lines on Sasha's hand.

"Don't tell anyone about this, or I'll deck you in the face," Sasha starts, her voice holding no actual intimidation and yet it still shakes Marcy down to her core. Because the truth is seeking to see her downfall, to see her face flat on the floor and mock her for falling.

For falling.

Marcy could feel her face pale. The puzzle pieces locking onto each other in a painful flash.

"I like Anne."

And maybe it hurts to hear Sasha stop speaking. Maybe she wants Sasha to continue with an 'and Marcy', but at this point, she's just trying her luck. It's as if she flipped a coin hundreds of times just to have tails over and over again. Like throwing the same unfortunate coin in a wishing well with hands intertwined praying that if her wishes come true, it will always be them. But the well is an endless pit of uncertainty and Marcy drowns and drowns in it because she finally knows why.

Marcy loves them both.

"Like, crush-crush?" Marcy asks, and it hurts.

The blonde groans, "Yes," she mutters as she deflates on the couch with both hands on her face.

Of course. It's always been Sasha and Anne. This was bound to come sooner, like a prophecy made eons ago. Marcy opens her mouth only to close it again. No words left her love-parched throat and her hollow heart. It feels like being suspended midair with her breath knocked out of her weak lungs—all heavy emptiness.

"I don't know Marce! I tried not to like her, but her eyes just make me want to protect her, you know? And sometimes I think I don't just like her, but I don't want to say it, I can't say it—"

"You love Anne."

Horror falls on Sasha's face. 

"I—" she chokes, "I can't."

For a second, Marcy knows it's true. Sasha can't love Anne. Not when they're a bunch of thirteen year olds in a repeating life cycle. Not when their breaths hitch when the future feels near and hold on closer to one another each passing day. Not when they feel uneasy when the thought of being different hits. They can't love each other when they don't know how to love. 

Marcy swallows the lump on her throat.

"Sash—"

Sasha stands up abruptly, "No Marcy. We're not talking about this anymore."

The blonde started walking away but Marcy tipped herself towards self destruction, "Anne has to know."

Sasha stops, frozen, "Anne doesn't lo—like me. Isn't it obvious?"

Her ponytail sways when she turns to Marcy again, golden sunlight filters through the gigantic curtains of her empty mansion, ocean eyes piercing through her with a fiery facade. In their broken spaces of unspoken screams, Sasha Waybright looks ethereal wearing a heartbroken look on her face. But Marcy doesn't understand the way Sasha's eyebrows are scrunched and desperate. She doesn't get her downturned lips and pleading eyes. Marcy doesn't want to think about the need to caress Sasha's cheek and tell her everything will be alright. Marcy can't understand why she moved and moved forward towards Sasha and Anne— towards her destruction —despite knowing that she'll blow them to smithereens. 

Marcy clasps both of Sasha's hands, "Anne has to know that you love her."

Sasha, wide-eyed, stared down at their intertwined fingers.

"Why don't you tell her that too?"

It feels like a drop in the sky, and now she’s free falling.

"Marcy, you like her too, don't you?"

The wind is harsh against her skin and her heart is begging her to lie, lie, lie .

"I don't like Anne,” Marcy says and her breath hitches, “You guys are my friends.”

I love you both, that's why.

Sasha's beautiful blue eyes snap from her chains, relief like waves crashing onto her shores. Sasha looked like she just fell in love with Marcy. As if she's god-sent, as if she made a miracle. And Marcy, silly little her, hangs onto that relieved lovesick expression Sasha has for her. Maybe this is the best kind of love she would ever get, the kind of importance she would never experience again.

It's alright if Marcy doesn't know how to love. This is the love she'll temporarily bask in and that would be enough.

"Y-you don't?"

Marcy smiles and she swears her lungs hurt from lying, "I can’t— don't . I don't have a crush on her, silly."

Sasha laughs, bringing a hand to her mouth, "Wow, sorry, this is weird. I—I thought you liked Anne and I didn't want to strain our friendship—"

"Sasha," Marcy giggles, god it hurts so much , "Breathe."

The blonde smiles, and Marcy thinks her sacrifice was worthwhile. This is the first time she saw Sasha so distraught and genuinely happy alone. Sasha’s vulnerable love and affection, not for her, never for her, is a privilege to witness. Even if it’s piercing and searing against her chest. She wants to savor this moment if not for the throbbing pain inside her ribcage.

If she could only rip her heart out.

"You promise you won't snitch on me Marce?"

Marcy tightens her hold, "As long as you tell her soon."

Soon, the party seems to forget what transpired but Marcy was busy reclaiming the shards of whatever love she has for herself. The night became unbearable. Sasha was off with some popular group, leaving Marcy alone sitting on the staircase. Along with Sasha's confession and her realization that she likes both of her best friends, Marcy feels the need to crawl up in her own bed and cry. 

Marcy sighs as she continues playing on her phone when it loudly pings.

‘marshmallow, here at da gates’

Marcy has never ran faster in her whole life. She sprinted towards the door, her forever selfish destruction, cutting her way through the messy crowd and boisterous music. Cold wind hits her face as she rushes to the gates, opening to see Anne in her casual party fit. 

"Hi."

The moonlight made home inside Anne’s brown eyes , and the stars littered her dark curls. And Marcy's breathless, quite literally, and dumbfounded as Anne smiles so warmly that her heart breaks again. If she could just stare at her forever, maybe run her fingers across her hair, savor every touch and affection from her—maybe if she could just kiss Anne, everything will be okay.

"Anne?"

And just like that, the illusion shatters.

They are not yours.

She turns around to see Sasha, eyes shocked and tear-brimmed. 

"Hey Sash," Anne smiles, apologetic.

Marcy moves and gives way to Anne as she crashes onto Sasha. Their apologies came pouring out, but no ounce of confession was uttered by any of them. And Marcy kept on watching them both come together after seeing them break apart.

Soulmates are resilient. They are meant to be whole even after millions of cracks.

Even if everything returns to normal, nothing will ever be the same again. Because Marcy aches while she laughs with them, and Sasha's gaze is always drawn to Anne, who sits between them, oblivious and pleased. Anne seemed to notice what had happened earlier, but no one at the party relayed the tale because they were afraid of being on the receiving end of Sasha's rage. So Anne never mentioned anything, unaware that Sasha confronted Maggie just because Sasha believed that everyone knew about her crush on Anne.

Ignorance is a bliss after all. A luxury Marcy can't afford.

When the mansion empties out and the clock strikes at 8, Marcy's already packing her things. Sasha had already insisted for her to stay even before Anne's surprise visit, but she has her now. A substitute could never replace what she originally wanted.

"Really not gonna stay for the night Marmar?" Anne asks.

Marcy hikes her bag on her shoulder, "Nope! Parents need me home!" 

If they could only push her more, change her mind, let her know that they truly want her there, Marcy would say yes. Marcy would say yes to everything they want, even if it simply means that they’ll have her. 

"You're going to miss out, like a lot," Sasha says.

"Psh, you guys enjoy it without me! I'll be fine!"

Anne rolls her eyes endearingly, "Okay nerd, come here."

The three of them hugged, the ache persisting inside Marcy's chest despite their warmth.

Once she hears the familiar lock of the gates and retreating footsteps, Marcy drops on the sidewalk. She could barely control the lump and her wrecked sobs as tears kept streaming down her face. The fall stops and all of her bones are broken. Her wings all burnt like Icarus, and heart torn by Eros. Is this how it feels to be so alone? So loveless? If it was smart to let go, then why does it hurt? Perhaps this is what she deserved for being such a coward. Maybe in another world, she'll be brave enough to love them.

Maybe in another world, they'll choose her too.

( "Why can't you be brave to love us for once?")

Marcy's not a fan of good characters gone bad just to get what they want, no matter how reasonable it is. Using evil to create good does not cancel the fact that they did something bad. It just goes against Marcy's principles.

But the understanding sinks in when she runs under gray clouds sympathizing with her loss, feet slamming one by one in haste on the damp asphalt road. Running away won't do anything but her body does not think, it just needs to do something .

When her eyes settled on the dusty music box, that's when the gears inside her head began to roll. Thinking with your wild heart and irrational emotions is a deadly weapon anyone could possess, and despite Marcy seeing a glimpse on  how this plays out, how everything will go, she snaps a picture. The regrets don't come of course, they are bubbling up and swelling inside her chest, waiting to erupt.

Marcy understands now. 

To love is to hurt yourself repeatedly in the process.

Chapter Text

Courage comes with consequences.

Marcy has never really thought through this whole plan. It was out of desperation, out of yearning. Taking the three of them to another world was the bravest decision she had ever made, but there is underlying uncertainty if it was right. She's been separated from her lifelines and the mere thought of them being in danger inside Amphibia already sends her to the edges of her seat. If something ever happens to them, it will be entirely her fault. And so that courage builds up when her leg is finally healed. 

"Hey King Andrias!" She greets the giant newt who seemed eager to meet her for the day.

"Why isn't it Master Marcy! What brings you here little one?" Andrias welcomes her, leaning away from the comforts of his throne.

"I was thinking if I could borrow a bird? Or a wagon? I really need to find both of my friends soon enough," Marcy pleads.

Even if she already gained the 'Master' title in one day, she hasn't really done any jobs to fit in that role. And sure it did sound fun to act like one, strolling around the castle being respected by many, it's one of her biggest dreams! But the guilt nags her deep inside. She needs to find her friends.

"Well of course dear! But don't you want to wait here in Newtopia? For sure they will reach you soon enough. Newtopia is the heart of Amphibia after all."

Marcy shook her head, "Sorry but I'm really worried about them. Who knows what kind of creature they've encountered already?"

I’ve risked their lives enough. I need to make sure they are alright.

"Very well then, but if I may, can the King of Newtopia ask for one last favor?" 

That piques Marcy's interest, the quest ping in Vagabondia Chronicles playing inside her head.

"Sure!" 

Andrias smiles and under his softened gaze is rotten guilt, "How would you like to lead the Newtopian Knight Guard for one mission?"

Marcy's eyes widened, all sparkles and hope, "Of course!"

A month and a half later, Newtopia beats with life as the heart of Amphibia. Being Chief Ranger was one heavy title, and a tedious duty as well.  Being Master of Newtopia enough is too much for a thirteen year old, but she is needed here, and frog, does it feel great to be wanted eagerly. Errands and reforms kept her awake every day and night, even if the city sleeps, Marcy Wu does not. King Andrias saw something behind her klutzy impression and entrusted her stacks of quests. It's as if she's living in a real life game! 

But her heart does not stray away from her true mission: get Sasha and Anne home. 

Each victory she emerges as winner is a step closer to finding her friends. Marcy opted to follow Andrias' advice. It was the most logical thing for them to do! Besides, as Andrias said, every time Marcy accomplishes a mission, she is creating a better world for the people around her. A safer world for her friends. And so she pushes down her yearning and lovesick daydreams.

Marcy did this for them, and she is doing it for them.

( The regrets bubbled and erupted, and along with it is her honestly stupid reasons on why they are here. )

Anne's warmth made her feel like less of a sinner. 

She has always been yellow summer and comfort clouds, but there's something different to Anne's warmth—genuine. Marcy could see it in the way she picks up Polly like a good big sister, the way she listens to Sprig's stories like an attentive friend, in her subtle ways of reminding Hop Pop about his medication. Anne has changed. 

What surprised Marcy the most is Anne standing up to Sasha. The blonde has always been immovable. Her stubbornness radiates off like a heightened flame, it will always make you want to follow. But for Anne to extinguish that fire, fighting that fire with her own peril waters, it feels revolutionary. Marcy knew that one day Anne was going to snap. She just didn't know it would come sooner. The guilt clogs her chest whenever she wishes " pleasedon'tpleasedon't " during their monthly quarrels or big misunderstandings. She wishes that Anne would understand Sasha, and that Sasha would listen to Anne. 

This fight is different. 

It’s not a fight over a kpop bias, or the good ol’ pineapples vs no pineapples. This is different from their teenage quarrels. And Anne never went into detail but her eyes convey the story of a friendship crashing down to rubles. A haunting event under Amphibia’s red moon. Marcy wants to know what happened, how their friendship crumbled down in an instant. 

It was no surprise that Sasha and Anne found each other first, they were soulmates after all. But Amphibia is different. Sasha and Anne are built on an eroding soil, their foundation never meant to last. They have broken apart many times, and yet still came together. Will this be the time that quick-drying cement won’t be enough to fix them?

Yet Marcy doesn’t want them to fall apart, she never wanted them to be away from each other. All she wanted was to be with them.

“We should definitely pull a sleepover with Sprig and Polly,” Anne says once her giggles simmered down.

Marcy flaps her hands, "Oh! We definitely should!"

Anne giggles, her brown eyes crinkling at the sides with stars dancing inside as if calling for Marcy to come closer. She lays on her side facing Marcy on the carpeted floor, the bed long forgotten acting as a desk with all sleepover paraphernalia splayed all over the mattress. Anne's voice once again lazily dies down but her eyes are still focused on Marcy like a starry spotlight. 

Would it be selfish to want this moment all for herself?

Marcy's chest slowly rises and falls. Her arms are spread out on the floor, head turned to look at Anne as if she's half everything she wants.

"I really love your eyes."

Like a cosmic event, Anne's eyes brighten as she scoots closer. Amphibia's moon seems to fit the moment, shining them with bright light. And there's something so magical about Anne's proximity, about their closeness. It feels like dozens of faraway fireworks displayed fleetingly in the night sky.

"Why?" Anne asks.

Because I love you.

"Brown is a beautiful color," Marcy replies in all simplicity because it is.

The fireworks seem to edge closer and it feels like a calling. A sign. Yet even if the crackles start to get louder and more electrifying, Marcy can't be this close with Anne. She can't allow herself to grow closer and closer to people who fate decided will remain intertwined forever.

Her eyes betray her as she gives in and sneaks a glance on Anne's lips.

"But blue is prettier," Anne says, almost too silent, almost like a breath.

Like a secret.

Marcy smiles and it's more understanding than lovestruck. Because she knows how beautiful Sasha's eyes are, how inviting they are. She knows how to get lost in it, knows how to traverse the waves of misery and facades. Like a pirate in a small boat loyal to the ocean it ventures, may it be storm or crystal blues.

"They're both pretty," Marcy says, and it doesn't sound like a hidden note.

Anne's breath hitches. The stars in her eyes continue to shine. 

"Yeah, I'm starting to think brown is as pretty as blue too," Anne replies.

In that moment, her hand reaches for Marcy's cheek. She can't breathe. The fireworks continued exploding and she could feel it on her skin. Electricity lulls her to comfort, a crackle of warmth that feels like home. Marcy leans onto Anne's hand as she savors the affection, because this might be her last. Behind her eyelids, Marcy sees Sasha's grief-stricken face in a golden living room. She hears Sasha's voice, her chants of 'how could you?' And the never ending cries of a broken soulmate tethered from their own string of red—

"Sasha."

The spark is gone. Anne's hand retracts.

When she looks at Anne, Marcy sees shooting stars inside her eyes. It's beautiful, the way even in grief, Anne will continue to look like a birth of cosmos and planets. And so Marcy can't find other words to explain, only a silent wish on the meteors falling inside her sorrow-seeded brown eyes that Anne chooses her this time around.

"Right," Anne smiles, "Then how will we pull that sleepover?"

And those shooting stars disappear because they never existed in the first place, only a scapegoat of false hope for every dream that is impossible.

Pawn.

"A different tactic today Mar-mar?" King Andrias' voice booms in the empty throne room.

Marcy could only answer with barely a shrug, shoulders heavy as King Andrias moves a piece to counter her attack.

"Not very lively, I see."

Marcy sighs, "Sorry, it's just so confusing."

Knight.

"The game? My proposition?" Andrias pauses and moves his bishop, "Or is it Anne?"

The girl looks at the King momentarily, pleading eyes and scrunched eyebrows, "I don't get her, Andrias," she says, shaking her head.

Knight.

"When she got here, she told me that she doesn't want to lose me again. And that's what she wants! Anne wants me by her side!" Marcy says, eyes darting around the board with a hand on her head, gripping her hair.

Andrias moves, "She wants you by her side," he restates.

"Yes she does!" Marcy's voice falters as she makes a move, "Or did."

"Having another adventure in a different world could make both Sasha and Anne dependent on you."

Marcy looks up to Andrias, chewing her lip. Her eyes are hazy as it trembles with confusion, "Isn't Amphibia enough?"

Andrias moves a piece, garnering Marcy's attention to the board once again. Just one wrong move and Marcy could lose the game. Flipwart sessions with the King had always been a sweet time for Marcy, but this game has underlying tension. One miscalculation and Marcy feels like everything will slip away from her grasp.

The King chuckles, "Enough? Amphibia would never be enough for someone as great as you Marcy."

Marcy purses her lips, "No, no, that's not what I meant…"

"Then do tell, what do you mean by 'enough'?" Andrias prods further.

Check. 

King.

"Promise me, please Andrias. You won't tell anyone."

Andrias smiles and Marcy couldn't detect malice nor guilt. Only genuineness.

"Of course, Mar-mar."

Marcy gulps, wiping her sweating hands on her skirt. Her heart feels lodged on her throat, beating so wild as if trying to expose her darkest secret she kept from everyone.

"We…we didn't really get here by accident…"

(Marcy always had trouble with picking up social cues. But right now, she knows. She knows with the lilt of Andrias' voice because he knows what has been festering inside her lungs, waiting to be spilled on the castle floor. And so she pleads. And so she vomits.)

"So that was…a rough day."

With a plunk, Marcy falls down alongside Anne. She's had it with the residents of Wartwood shouting at her for the previous few days. It is technically her fault for being pushy, and she has learnt her lesson. She simply wishes she understood how to communicate with others. But tonight seems like a shift in the wind. An escape from the world they never belong in.

"Mhm."

Anne chuckles, "The town is just built like that, no harsh feelings though, right Marshmallow?"

"Mhm…"

Unbeknownst to Marcy, Anne frowns and turns sideways to look at her, "Marcy?"

"Hm?" Marcy asked as her neck turned faster than her eyes did.

When their gazes met, Marcy's lungs forgot to function. It's like in her bedroom all over again. Close electrifying proximity, prodding gazes, quivering lips—

"Are you okay?" Anne asks, resting a hand on her cheek.

"I am, I am," Marcy says, heart rate picking up speed with Anne's touch.

"Are you really sure?"

Marcy nods, trying her best not to lean onto Anne's touch, fighting the urge to just close in the gap. Why does Anne gravitate towards her so much in Amphibia? Marcy's not complaining, but that warmth inside her chest clashed with the fear that Sasha hates for this. She had reassured Sasha that Anne is hers and that Sasha is Anne's, so why is she taking claim on one of them?

"I like being here with you."

Marcy's focus clears up to Anne. Her eyes are shining but there's dark fear swelling underneath it. If she could just vanquish the darkness that lives inside Anne's body, Marcy would. And so she closes her eyes, soaking up Anne's gaze like a spotlight.

"Why?" Marcy asks, barely a breath.

Anne smiles, "You're Marcy."

"Then why did you leave me?"

But how could Marcy kill off evil when she is the devil herself?

Anne’s breath shudders. It sounds like sparkle dust, tears of an angel. The sprinkling shaky hands she retracts and it takes everything for Marcy not to beg please I need your warmth . And it’s pathetic, really, with how Marcy reaches out for things she pushes away. How she knows she could be with them but also understands that with her unbridled love unvanquished by her pure evilness, she is not worthy to even hold their hand or have a taste of their lips.

“I’m sorry, I know you didn’t purposefully leave me,” Marcy states rolling on her back to look away from the agony she's made, “I’m not mad at you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I…” Marcy trails off, “I also like being with you.”

Anne hums. Marcy hopes she understands.

Of course, soulmates always come back together again. And having them together— even if it hurts and prickles under her skin —is better than having them apart. 

But everything’s okay. Marcy has Sasha and Anne on both of her sides, and she knows that this is the start of something she finally deserves. Not only that though, Sasha, her renewed knight, came barging in like the sun. And Marcy knows this warmth back from Earth, back to glowing pavements, because she’s finally feeling Sasha again. So when said girl welcomed her to a tight hug, Marcy knew she’ll carry more penance for her sins. What struck her awe the most is how Sasha just believed and stayed with her the whole mission. From staying by her side to trusting her with a plan? It’s almost unbelievable! 

Maybe Sasha has really changed. Maybe they all have earned their redemption and this is their path to greatness.

Marcy's stomach sinks. After everything she's done, could redemption even save her?

A hand on Marcy's shoulder startles her. 

"Hey Mar-mar? Joe Sparrow's kinda waiting for you," Anne says.

Marcy looks at Anne with wide eyes, then breaks to realize as she says, "Oh right!"

Her hands immediately flew to Joe, mumbling phrases like he could understand him.

"Don't worry Annie! This will be quick," Marcy says with a giggle and continues to prepare Joe for their flight.

"Of course! I’m just worried…are you alright?" Anne asks.

"Why wouldn't I be? Sasha's here, we're finally back together again!"

When Marcy says it, it doesn't seem to hold the same meaning anymore. Maybe her feelings have diluted her sense of friendship that crumbs of their affection feel like little reciprocation. 

"Yeah, right, Sasha." Anne scoffs as she sits on the ground next to Joe.

Marcy smiles a little, crouching down to Anne's level and asks, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Anne says with an averted gaze and sighs, "I just kind of wished it was just the two of us again."

Marcy's heart stutters inside her chest. Her stomach is filled with flapping and churning, maybe she wants to throw up a little, but her head is spinning in newfound ecstasy and she's reveling in it too much. She shakes it off, holding both of Anne's hands together.

"Hey, we’ll still be Marcy and Anne,” Marcy says, “As if we’d be separated again.”

Anne's eyes lighten up and Marcy swears the world shines brighter. But she didn’t seem convinced yet, so Marcy offers a pinky, wiggling it in emphasis.

"This feels so childish," Anne says with a giggle as she wraps her own pinky around Marcy’s, then follows up with, "You swear?"

Marcy giggles back, "I swear it."

"This is where you've been staying?" 

Marcy turns around from her desk, "Sasha!"

The blonde smiles at her, leaning on the fwagon door with arms crossed. The image before her flashed Marcy a quick view to a hidden reverie. If Marcy closed her eyes and imagined harder, to the point of delusion, she could have been a princess trapped in her own sins. Here, Sasha is her dashing knight that saves her from the tower and all of her past. In this bubble-reality inside Marcy's head, Sasha saves her from the consequences of her actions, her own tower of mistakes.

But Sasha's still staring at her like she's surreal, like she's waiting for Marcy to ask for her help, for forgiveness, for anything—

"This is the Plantars' family wagon! AKA the fwagon," Marcy says in a haste as she turns back to her desk to organize her scattered papers then stuck it inside her journal, "I've been staying here while we're recharging the stones so, make yourself at home!"

She hears Sasha whistling, a telltale sign she's looking around, before plopping down Marcy's bed, "Do the frogs charge you for living inside their… um fwagon?"

Marcy faces Sasha with eyebrows furrowed, "Uh no, not really."

"Oh," Sasha mutters, "Well, good. Good to know they aren't mean to you."

Playing mediator has been Marcy's expertise, but doing it over and over makes her feel sick in the stomach. She feels superficial, as if she can't hold onto her own principles.

"They're not that bad once you get to know them," Marcy says as she sits beside Sasha, "Besides, I think you do owe them an apology."

Her body tenses as she waits for the anger to come. Yet it doesn't. Sasha only grunts with her fists closed before breathing out with a hushed "I know."

"Enough of that," Marcy stirs the conversation, "How are you and Anne?"

Sasha looks at her, puzzled, "Well I just dropped by their house earlier to remind them about the dinner and it went okay?"

"No, I mean," Marcy pauses, maybe trying to remind herself that bringing this up now is a bad idea, "I mean, you and Anne."

Sasha's cheek turns pink as she finds a space inside the fwagon to look at. And it's adorable how Sasha deflects that she has a crush but gets so flustered whenever Marcy brings up Anne. It's adorable, but it would always hurt to think that she's not Anne.

"I think I never stopped liking her," Sasha mumbles then sighs, "I just wanted to protect her and get us home."

Then in held breath and impulses, Marcy says, "I would let you protect me."

They both tensed up. Marcy's hand goes cold as she grips the sheets of her bed while Sasha refuses to look at her. Deep down inside, she wishes that Sasha could just stare at her in disbelief, in surprise, and ask her if she would leave the tower with her, if Marcy would cut her 70 feet long hair just to be with Sasha. Because she would if she were Rapunzel, if Sasha loved her, she just needs Sasha to look at her—

"I mean, if I were Anne of course, I would let you protect me," Marcy adds in quickly before the situation could turn more awkward.

Sasha chuckles, "Thanks Mar-mar. You're the best."

The crumbs of affection they both offer Marcy makes up for the cracks in her heart whenever they come together. It's pitiful that she offers such importance to little to no compensation of her feelings for them. And so Marcy smiles wide, because she's happy that she made Sasha happy. This is enough.

The moon hung high in the sky and bathed two girls with dim light. Their drunk-like giggles painted the inside of the fwagon pastel colors and shimmers, and Marcy has half of everything she wants.

Sasha stares at her, laying on Marcy's bed with her side turned to the rambling girl, and asks, "Do you love me?"

And Marcy stops because Sasha's arm is resting across her stomach as she brings Marcy closer. She wonders if this proximity is allowed, is it sinful or an act of betrayal? Yet her moral compass had been broken long before, so she waits in bated breath, she lets Sasha finish.

"Would you love me?"

Marcy replies, "You know I love you Sash."

Yet her compass, her heart, pulls her to Sasha and then to Anne. May it all be broken and damaged just as Marcy is, but the guilt forever stains her innocent love, that may have led her to make impulse-crazed decisions.

She waits for a beat, for a sign that Sasha doesn't want to hear what follows. Yet Sasha’s not yet speaking, not saying ‘I love you too’.  In silent understanding, Marcy adds, "That's what friends do."

Marcy knows that Sasha and Anne always have their occasional quarrels, but after Toad Tower, of course their arguments are meant to be vile. They have barely survived the dinner and now this whole band song thing is ruining them apart.

After rounds of practice with Anne, Marcy asked for a break. She didn't need to disclose that she'll find Sasha, but it seems that Anne got the memo, even though the latter’s half-committed response implies she doubts it'll work. So Marcy traverses Wartwood but had no luck in eyeing a certain blonde. Sitting down by the fountain, she sighs. For people who are both meant for each other, it's odd that they always try to wrestle their ways out of each other's lives. And for someone that loves them both, it's foolish to glue them together and pretend they would be alright. 

"Looks like someone's on a break."

Marcy turns sideways to see Sasha Waybright in her own contest wear. Her mouth parts in shock, the butterflies waking up and wreaking havoc inside her stomach because Sasha is too stunning.

"S-Sash!" she greets, a little too enthusiastically.

"Heyya Marbles, how are you guys doing?" Sasha asks as she sits down beside her, not having a single clue on how her mere presence sends Marcy on a haywire.

"Pretty," Marcy says with a dumbstruck smile.

"Pretty…?"

"Ah, pretty great!" Marcy nods repeatedly, mentally slapping herself for being so stunned.

"Oh…how great?" Sasha asks, "Better without me?" 

It was a silent follow up, but it was clear enough for Marcy to catch it.

"It would have been perfect with you."

Sasha nods, "But things are out of my control and it feels so frustrating, Marce, can't we just get back to normal?"

Even though the bluntness, the sharp-edge of Sasha’s words didn’t mean to hit her, Marcy could feel it dig into her bone. A quick pang in my chest. Because they would have been normal if Marcy wasn’t selfish, if Marcy could have been a better friend. They won’t be here with their friendship all tattered around the edges, slowly and always bound to break apart.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault Marcy,” Sasha replies, a hand on Marcy’s arm, “I told you to stop saying sorry when you’re not at fault.”

Marcy nods because her mouth is dry and her throat is filled with bile about to spill. If she was less evil, maybe she would admit it and cry. If Sasha was less righteous, maybe she would kiss Marcy’s tears away and tell her repeatedly that it’s not her fault, it never was. But in all forsaken realities, it’s always been Marcy’s fault.  

How many acts of kindness would Anne and Sasha show Marcy before her day of judgment befalls them?

So Marcy does not speak for it she did, there would be blood on Sasha’s hands.

In a fleeting hurried bubble of melody colors and pastel music, Marcy thinks that the consequences of her mistakes won’t come to haunt her. Not when Anne belongs to the spotlight basking like the moon, a real beauty almost leaving her stumbling on stage. Not when Sasha comes barging in, once again, like a knight clad in plaid clothing and all rough around the edges, but it’s her and always her charm that surprises Marcy.

Marcy believes they are to rescue her from everything in this sudden stupor wherein everything just perfectly fits. Her two angels descending from the highest regions of heaven to save Marcy, whose wings have stopped flying, charred feathers escaping as she falls. Marcy thinks, for a split second before she could take it back, that this is worth what comes after her. They are worth it.

The song ends, their bubble snaps. But the afterglow of everything else follows their trail, and it’s in the air, in the way Anne looks at her, in the way Sasha holds her hand. 

She could have belonged with them.

“Saaaash—” 

A hand flew to her mouth immediately, in both shock and effort not to wake up both of her friends in deep sleep. Marcy stares at the image before her, warmth bursting inside her chest. Anne has her right hand above her stomach, parallel to Sasha’s left arm draped across Anne’s tummy— just like how she clung onto me the nights before —and her frame cuddled by Anne’s left arm. It doesn’t help that Sasha snuggles into Anne’s neck, and Marcy wonders when she could possibly experience that herself.

Alongside the warmth buzzing inside her head, making her dizzy, there’s a lingering ache. As if the world tilts in its right place, and Marcy doesn’t have a ground to stand on. But she’s still here, on the peak of the staircase of Anne’s bedroom, eyes lingering to where she found her girls cuddling in happy peace.

Her girls.

They aren’t hers.

“Oh, Anne’s asleep.”

Marcy turns to Sprig, very much ready for bed in his sleepwear, “I see, thanks Sprig.”

Sprig hops a little closer to her, “Sasha’s in there too, you don’t wanna go and cuddle with them?”

Marcy flashes her a grateful smile and crouches down to his level, “I think it’s best to have their moment tonight, bud.”

“You’re right,” Sprig says with a sigh, “I’m just worried because I still don’t trust Sasha. No offense of course.”

“None taken,” Marcy replies and giggles lightly.

“You know, Anne still cares about Sasha. Old news, I know, but sometimes, I wonder how good is Sasha exactly for the two of you to still be friends with her,” Sprig starts, “Anne always told me that Sasha’s a good person, like a knight. She kept on mumbling for Sasha too days after the tower incident…”

The realization sinks in once again, and this time, it’s not like a whirlwind of ache. More like a nostalgic pain warming her chest. Because of course Anne loves Sasha just as Sasha loves Anne. They have always belonged together, and it’s selfish to need, to want a space in between them. 

“Thanks Sprig, you’ll see how good Sasha is. You just need to give her time.”

Marcy doesn’t add an apology. Even if she does feel sorry that she’s going to take his big sister away from him, feels sorry that Sprig won’t see Sasha’s kindness underneath. 

Marcy always has thought that death is different. Maybe, it is different because she’s just thirteen and death has never really crossed her mind, save for the “3 AM thoughts” usual teenagers have. Yet death possibly is a fate far from Marcy, that is when they were back home. When Anne handed Andrias the music box, Marcy felt something was amiss. As if the sky turned dark on its own, like the sun disappears and scurries away behind the clouds to avoid seeing such tragedy. It felt like death was at her doorstep.

Perhaps death was Andrias' betrayal. Was that truly a betrayal? It was an act of heroism, an act of goodwill to people she had accidentally harmed. But it hurts, because he vowed to keep it a secret, he told her that she did the greatest thing for them. But all of Andrias’ so-called betrayal was nothing compared to what followed afterwards. When she was speaking her truth, the long-rotten confession finally spilling out of her wretchedness, all Marcy wished was to be dead. How could she? How could she do something so horrendously evil and still be in denial about it? Why is she trying to convince them, ultimately, herself, that all of this was justifiable? She feels sick. Yet the pain struck hard, splitting her apart, when both of their hands struggled away from her clasp. Perhaps this was what she deserved. Even if she finally tells the truth of her feelings, sliding down the marbled floor, she knew she deserved the distrust her friends have shown her. Gentle faces contorted to an expression of horror and hurt beckoning her to look, look at what you’ve done . Her reality crumbled down, and alongside it, Marcy realized that she lost both Anne and Sasha in her desperate attempt to keep them to her side. Perhaps, this is what death feels like.

The world resumed without her. She blurs in and out of the scenes, of the shouts and clangs of her swords, of shooting lasers and fighting. But she is not dead yet, and a dead man has nothing but pure regret. So, Marcy fights for redemption, because she still loves Sasha and Anne no matter what. Even if she messed up so badly this time, she won’t sit still and be a coward. Marcy needs to make things right.

And so she does. Firing with her crossbow, taking down robots with her friends, jumping out of the window to save Sprig…she knows this is little step to forgiveness, but she’s trying. When Sprig is finally back on the castle, she wastes no time getting the music box and rerouting them back to Earth because she needs to make this up to them, to everyone. 

“Please work, please work, please work,” Marcy mumbles as her shaking hands work through the twists and turns of the box. She hears a roaring shout behind her, the heavy steps feeling as if they’re trickling sand in an hourglass. 

Everything else was a blur. Marcy sees Anne in front of her and the box, a wave of relief crashing onto her accompanied by fear because Sasha’s still out there fighting. And Anne’s yelling for her to come, to be zapped back home together, and she’s fumbling with an excuse because the other half of her heart would be left behind—

The blur of everything else becomes crystal clear. She looks down.

“Look what you’ve made me do.”

Death felt…empty. Marcy knows that there is searing hot metal against her skin—flesh, but she doesn't have the time nor the energy to realize that she has been stabbed. Everything was oddly quiet, and yet she could hear the soft thrums of the glowing fire sword. The ground felt steadier, more like an actual ground, if that makes sense, and she could see the tiniest gradients of colors illuminating the portal. Her head was silent for once, since her heart seemed to stop beating, but it pleaded one last thing to be said.

“I…I’m sorry…for everything.”

Marcy wonders if they could feel it too, the hollowness of her chest and the breaking of her heart.

To love is to hurt yourself repeatedly.

Looking back, the stabbing was not the most painful highlight of Marcy’s thirteen-year-old life. All of the emotional whirlwind that brought her to that position felt more like death than being impaled in a flaming sword. And yet, of course, that is only the start for a lengthy gruesome penance for her sins. Marcy thinks she perhaps deserved this pain, but she knows she’s just thirteen .

Fear has her own chokehold. She couldn’t even beg for help, couldn’t even ask for mercy. Even as the ominous helmet lowers down slowly to her head, Marcy’s mouth couldn’t form words to save her from her incoming doom. Her eyes meet Olivia and Yunan’s, and she begs without words, but it’s hopeless, oh so hopeless. The helmet has already obscured half of her vision when she gazes at Andrias looking away. Then there was silence. It could have been hope. 

Pain thrummed violently across her limbs, yet the persistent ache pounds on her head and it hurts so bad . Marcy screams and she tries to beg for solace of some sorts because this is a fate worse than death. But her body is still on fire and she could hear her skull cracking and wet blood dripping on her face. She couldn’t think nor could she move her body. 

Then it ends as she goes limp, as Marcy Wu dies for the second time around.

“We want what you want. Always and forever.”

Marcy could feel her chest fall down to her stomach. The place—the illusion seemed to waver, a telltale sign that Marcy’s theory had been correct. And yet it still hurts to hear what she has always wanted to hear from her best friends, knowing that everything is fake. It hurts, more than the stabbing or the possession, to know that she had hurt them and yet she still yearns for them selfishly.

“This…this isn’t real is it?”

To hear herself admit it is like throwing a pebble on to the lake, watching it walk and skip ‘til it reaches its limits and sink. It feels freeing, to let the gravity of reality take them to whatever fate they have, even if it hurts, even if she wants to run on the water, even if she wants to be with Sasha and Anne.

“The real Anne and Sasha don’t want what I want and it hurts…” Marcy could feel a tear slip away, “But to force them to follow my dreams is…wrong. I’ve learned that the hard way.”

Marcy gazes at the two replicas of her friends in front of her. She wants them, she has always wanted them like this. Following what she wants, genuinely being interested in what she’s doing, just being with them, it’s everything that Marcy has ever dreamt of. She could stay here and learn to love the illusion  of her friends, live the life she has always wanted, because admittedly, the real Anne and Sasha neglected her. But Marcy doesn’t care . Marcy wants them and only them, and even if it means being away from them, it would be better rather than loving two soulless husks of the people she would die for.

She defies the newt, and so she suffers in darkness, with their picture as her light. This is only the start of what Marcy would go through just to be with them.

“We love you and…”

“We forgive you.”

The voices calling for her aren’t the same from her faux reality. Slowly, away from the darkness she was trapped in, Marcy opens her eyes. A droplet runs down her cheek, something that grounds her as she wakes from her supposed death.

“Anne…? Sasha?”

Both of her friends are beside her, crying for her, thanking everything that she’s alive. And she is alive. But she can’t help but to sit up, disregarding the occasional jolts of pain, arms hugged around herself. She’s scared that she can’t trust herself yet, that she can’t seem to trust her own body for it might unconsciously rebel against her will again. But Marcy could trust her judgment, her feelings almost filled to the brim.

“Anne. Sasha,” she pauses with a shaky breath, “I'm sorry. I was so scared about moving away. The thought of losing you was just so…big. I was afraid that if we weren't together, we wouldn't be friends anymore.”

Sasha's grip on her tightens as Marcy lets that out of her chest, as if she'll break free at any moment. However, Anne holds her hand and reassures her that neither time nor distance will be able to separate them. And it's wonderful to know that Marcy has always been a part of them, that there is a mold with her name on it, a space for her. Marcy couldn't care less if this silly soulmate situation went south. No otherworldly tyrant, cosmic fate, or life decision could stop Marcy from being with them.

An old saying goes, “Don’t count chickens before they hatch.”, another phrase translating to “Don’t speak too soon.” because the world knew that her redemption wasn't done, the consequences of her actions were too light. And so they took Anne away from her like some kind of sick joke, because she can’t blame the universe or Anne, she could only blame herself.

Anne can’t be gone. Not after they reconnected again, not after Anne looked at her so lovingly up there with Amphibia’s stars. This can’t be real. This is all her fault. She shouldn’t have brought them here. And now Anne is gone, she’s gone forever. Sasha’s still holding onto Marcy and it hurts to see the blonde look so pained and tormented with her own soulmate’s death. She continues to let out wrecked sobs while Marcy just stares at the leaves which was once Anne’s stoned-broken body. 

But of course, it’s Anne. By some weird miracle, she’s alive. For the first time, Marcy saved her questions for later, heck she didn’t even think of asking because Anne’s alive, flesh and bone and her beating heart—she’s alive.

Goodbyes have been hard. 

The attachment they have with Amphibia will forever be a lingering ache inside their chests, a far-fetched memory of adventures and mishaps. Marcy wishes this isn't their final goodbye. She hopes that one day, they will see their own families again. But then, forever prolonging the looming fact that they have to go back home (when Amphibia is their home, always will be) would hurt more.  

Marcy hopes ripping that band-aid off was any easier.

She never realized that Olivia and Yunan acted like cool parents for her, and she was so blind for not noticing how they could potentially have been a family. Marcy would miss Olivia's lessons. God, she hoped she paid more attention to her stories and to her philosophies. She would miss Yunan's sparring sessions. The thrill of swordsmanship and the ways of her crossbow, it's forever ingrained inside her heart. She never knew she'd miss the Plantar family and how kind they've been to Marcy. Even if they knew how she had hurt their Anne, she's still accepted like their own family.

Marcy would miss Andrias.

It hurts that she hasn't forgiven him. It might take years for her to finally forgive Andrias for what he did, maybe even never, but she still bids him a farewell because she still cares. She would miss the friend who was genuinely interested in her own little quirks. She would miss the awesome uncle she never had, always goofing around with her and making sure she's reaching her potential. It hurts to be hurt by someone you truly care about, but Marcy knows that he cared about her too.

But the ocean won't take them anywhere if the wind is forever still.

Goodbyes hurt. It forever will.

Bright light engulfs them and Marcy thinks that she has lots of work to do. But for now, when they open their eyes in the same park they were in months ago, she allows herself to cry along with her friends.

"Marceline Regina Wu."

Marcy almost drops her crutches, a small yelp escaping her lips. In a panic-stricken haze, she slowly turns around to meet Anne and Sasha on the front pavement of her house, or what was her house, looking annoyed and unimpressed.

"Uh, that's me?"

Sasha, dressed only in her silk pajamas, softens her gaze, "You're leaving."

She says it as if it's a question and a statement. A question of why, and the answer itself in two simple words. 

"Guess I am," Marcy says with a chuckle.

Anne steps forward, brows furrowed, "So you're just gonna leave us?"

The 'again' hangs there in the air, like an unspoken secret. And there's guilt inside Marcy's scarred chest, because she was just going to leave.

Marcy has caused them tremendous pain. Sure, Amphibia helped them grow into the best versions of themselves, but it had scarred them in a way that teenagers shouldn't be. Although the girls have reassured her that everything is alright now and she is forgiven, the guilt still crawls underneath her skin like an itch she can't scratch. The scar will always be a reminder for her sins, for her sacrifices, for the hell she has put the loves of her life to.

"I'm not leaving for forever," Marcy starts, "I'll still come back during breaks, and we'll keep in touch!"

"You were going to leave without a word, Marcy."

Marcy looks down at her feet. Sasha's right.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Anne asks.

"Because I still haven't forgiven myself," she says, almost whispering, "I can't bring myself to be with you guys without reminding me that I have hurt you so bad to the point we can't resume being normal teenagers."

"Marcy…" Anne breathes.

Warmth wrapped around her, the smell of lavender and vanilla overwhelming her senses, "We want to be with you."

Anne looks at her with eyes full of warmth and affection, and Marcy tries not to think how undeserving she is of Anne's genuine care.

"Marmar, we can't stop you from leaving. But we won't let you leave our lives. You mean so much to us, you mean so much to me."

The butterflies in Marcy's stomach scramble in panic, in warmth-overload because of Anne. Marcy can't help but think ' I love you I love you I love you ' but she doesn't say anything. She couldn't.

A hand presses down on her shoulder, "You can't get rid of us Wu, you know that," Sasha says with a teasing lilt, and yet the softness of hope lingers in her voice, "You complete us Marcy."

That breaks the band-aid, the dam, because Marcy's crying again, in happiness and in grief because of course. Of course they love her. It may not be in the way Sasha sees Anne or the way Anne thinks of Sasha, but it is love nonetheless. Marcy would always be there for them, as long as they'll have her.

They say their goodbyes and it hurts less because the weight has been lifted off their shoulders. Anne holds her hand as they watch her family’s things, all of her life before Amphibia, get loaded inside the truck, while Sasha has an arm around her shoulder, a safety blanket.

Their final goodbyes were quick, but they were meaningful. Marcy wants to whisper how she loves them so dearly it breaks her heart, but she can't. Not when she knows it would break her to hear rejection, not when they are still freshly scarred from what happened, not when Marcy’s still a wreck and a horrible person. So she settles with a quick 'I love you too', a reply to what they whispered to her weeks ago in a wrecked castle room.

The car tires move, and what’s left of her heart breaks. But she is meant to go, to be away from them, and that’s okay. Because this is the love that she wants. Even if it hurts, even if it’s selfishly hers, Marcy chose this. She sighs, blinking her tears away.

To love is to hurt.