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Anne Boonchuy is an enigma.
She’s different than anyone else Marcy has ever met in her entire life. Where others taunt and tease, Anne smiles and laughs– and her laughs are warm, genuine, the kind of laugh specifically engineered to elicit smiles and more laughter. She herself is sunshine incarnate, a guiding star, a lit candle on a stormy night; well, Marcy’s no poet, but that’s how she feels, deeply and intensely.
Anne Boonchuy is also a saint, because it’s winter break and she’s invited Marcy over while her own family travels– Marcy had wanted to travel with them, but it was a business trip for her father and besides, she couldn’t turn down the opportunity to spend an entire week with Anne.
This means, of course, that it’s almost midnight, and they’re both in their pajamas, curled up on Anne’s bed while some shitty romance drama plays. Marcy’s never really been into the stuff, but she watches it anyways, content with the way it allows her to curl into Anne’s chest, the blankets in a pool around them.
Marcy has always naturally run cold; she used to joke that it predicted her love of reptiles and amphibians, but it means she’s always been naturally clingy, naturally affectionate. Anne has always taken that in stride, equally happy to hold Marcy’s hands or tug her into an embrace– like now, where they’re all tangled together, and Anne has an arm around Marcy’s shoulders, absent-mindedly tracing circles into the small of Marcy’s back while Marcy listens to the thump-thump-thump of Anne’s heartbeat under her ear.
This is nice. Peaceful, in a way that life so rarely is. High school has dragged them apart, and with Marcy’s schedule loaded to oblivion and Anne helping her parents around the clock constantly, they haven’t had much of a chance to breathe.
So here Marcy is now, breathing for the first time in too long– she’s finally on solid ground again.
“...ello? Earth to Marbles?”
So lost in thought she’s been, Marcy nearly startles when Anne’s hand brushes hair out of her face, lingering at her cheek. It’s only now that she’s realized the movie – which her eyes are still technically watching, though she’s long since zoned out entirely – is over, the main title screen looping over and over.
“I’m gonna have to get up to put in something else,” Anne snickers when Marcy blinks at the tv screen. “You okay there? What’cha thinking about?”
You, Marcy wants to say, but she doubts she’ll ever find the courage. Instead, she shivers, her hands folded in her own lap as she suppresses the urge to return the embrace. “Just… how nice it is to be here,” she says quietly– and kicks herself, because it’s uncharacteristically quiet of her, and Anne, her loving, dutiful Anne, knows her well enough to put that together.
Sure enough, Anne makes a little huff noise in the back of her throat. “You didn’t even have anything mean to say about the love triangle, you usually hate those,” she points out, and that hand is still on her cheek, gently flicking with the hairs around her ear. “You’re not sick, are you?”
“I guess… I was thinking about how Christmas is next week,” Marcy begins, slowly. Gotta get her off of my back, gotta pretend everything is normal. “My dad will be back in town by then. And… I was thinking about how we used to spend the holiday seasons glued to each other. It’s a little silly.”
“I miss those days,” Anne sighs, and finally she moves her hand, now combing through Marcy’s hair, her nails softly dragging along Marcy’s scalp. It’s comforting, warm, and Marcy can’t help but close her eyes, leaning into the touch. “That really all that’s on your mind?”
And Marcy’s been lulled right into a false sense of security, she’s safe and falling asleep and maybe that’s why her filter shuts off, her defenses lowered, and she says, “I’ve been thinking about you, too.”
“Oh?” Anne’s voice goes low, almost teasing– she’s curious, Marcy can tell. “Aww, Marmar, I’m flattered.”
“I was thinking about gifts,” Marcy continues, when Anne stops her gentle ministrations in Marcy’s hair– a subtle sign for her to keep talking. “And how I don’t even need one this year, cause I already have a gift– you.”
A second passes. Two seconds. Then, the implications of what she’s just said sink in, and Marcy feels her cheeks heat up, a choked gasp escaping her. “I, I mean– well it’s just that– uh–”
“-Marcy,” Anne says softly, and then she’s moving her hand once again to cup Marcy’s cheek– but this time, she’s tilting Marcy’s head up, up, up, until Marcy’s blinking rapidly as she stares at Anne’s face. Anne’s cheeks are also flushed, but she’s smiling, and she doesn’t look upset or anything, just… pleased.
“Hi,” Marcy whispers.
“Hey,” Anne teases, and her hand stays on Marcy’s chin, keeping her from looking away. “Listen, Marmar, I like you a lot; so much, actually. You’ve always been the best gift I could ask for.”
But I want you, Marcy thinks, I’ve always wanted you. I don’t even know what my feelings are but I want to be with you all the time, to stay with you forever. I never want this night to end. Don’t you know that?
She doesn’t communicate this, but her eyes must say enough, because Anne’s awkwardly leaning forward, and her hand on Marcy’s chin has her tilting up, and they meet in the middle. It’s horribly executed, they are not in the right position to be kissing at all, but even though Marcy’s neck cramps and her hands scrabble for purchase and she has no idea what she’s doing… it’s still her first kiss, and it’s her first kiss with Anne, who willingly kissed her, and Marcy can scarcely breathe through the elation that bubbles in her stomach.
When Anne pulls away – a shining gleam in her eyes, fond and mischievous all at the same time – Marcy settles back into her chest, her heart pounding away as her cheeks stay flushed.
The TV has shut off at this point – timed out sometime during their conversation – but Anne doesn’t bring up the idea of moving again, and Marcy forgets it quickly enough. “That was nice,” she whispers meekly, because while the thought of kissing anyone else terrifies her, it’s not so bad when it’s with Anne. “Thanks, Anne. For, uh, for everything.”
“No need to thank me, Marbles,” Anne breathes, and she kisses the top of Marcy’s head as her hands settle back in their original positions– one around her shoulders, one playing with her hair. “Get some rest, mkay? Hey, maybe tomorrow we can persuade my mom to take us to the mall!”
“We could just take the bus, you know,” Marcy teases, but she’s already yawning, her eyes fluttering rapidly as she gives back in to the warmth of Anne’s embrace, the way her insides are still tingling with the weight of her emotions. “But okay, I’ll try.”
“Good,” Anne leans back into her pillows, and Marcy goes pliant in her arms, and it’s the comfiest she’s been in a long time. “Goodnight, Marbles.”
“Goodnight, starshine,” Marcy whispers.
Anne is an enigma– but Marcy’s always loved a good puzzle to solve.