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“This is not what we agreed upon,” their publicist snapped, holding up the paparazzi photo that had been snapped of them.
When she'd gotten the call, she'd been out in the garage working on her bike, grease coating her fingertips, and Marina had not been expecting this.
A photo of them in the VIP section of a concert, Pearl's arms slung around Marina’s shoulders, faces dangerously close. Pearl’s neck was craned up, just so. Another photo of the two of them staring at each other, eyes boring into eyes. While they were surrounded by people, they looked like they were the only ones in the room.
Oh, no.
Marina’s tentacles curled up on her cheeks, and her hearts stopped. The room felt so small, and everything was so loud, the clanking of ceramic coffee cups in an office down the hall, and the clicking and clacking of a keyboard in the room beside them followed her hearts as they began to pound again, a hammering thump-thump that threatened to explode out of her chest. Even her own beats had never been this powerful as they flowed through her, wild and unrestrained.
The look on her own face as she gazed into Pearl’s eyes was so earnest, so honest, so vulnerable. She'd never seen herself look like that before.
And now all of Inkadia had.
Her stomach dropped as their publicist flipped the page. Marina flushed. She remembered this moment.
During the concert, a romantic song had played, sweeping synths, slow, rocking beats, and they’d been looking at each other, and despite being surrounded by people, it had been just them.
“Fuck,” Pearl had said, hooking an arm around Marina’s neck. Something had settled into Marina’s gut, warm and comfortable, and Pearl’s uncharacteristically tender gaze had warmth flowing through her ink. “Yo, I—I dunno, uh, this is, uh, this is--” Pearl had swallowed, and Marina tracked the motion with her eyes.
“Fun,” Marina finished, somehow managing to spit the word out. The music swam through her veins. It was exhilarating, the melodies and the beats and Pearl was right here, right in front of her like she always was, but now she was so, so close. Marina could see lighter golden flecks in her eyes, glinting blue in the strobing lights of the concert. There was a splattering of pinkish freckles across the bridge of her nose, and her lips were glossy and they looked oh-so-soft.
So Marina leaned in, and Pearl met her halfway.
Now, on the desk, a photo of them kissing. It was blurry, but was it deniable? Marina couldn't tell.
Pearl scoffed, grabbing the magazine. “C’mon, it can’t be that bad.” She studied it for a minute, before muttering, "Shit," and tossing it onto the table. Marina turned her head, and their eyes caught. Anger was all over Pearl's face.
We should have been more careful, Marina willed.
So we fucked up, Pearl's frown supplied. Why should they care?
Their publicist cleared her throat, adjusting her glasses. “We have cultivated the images of you two carefully, Miss Houzuki." She folded her skinny hands on the glass table, her nose stuck up in the air. “And you signed a contract.”
From beside her, Pearl scoffed as previous guilt quickly faded into what Marina could only assume was anger. Emotions were swirling in Marina’s gut, and she couldn’t speak. Their contract. Their all powerful, binding contract to their record company that stated plainly, on Line 25: No romantic relationships. They needed to stay desireable for the public--Marina especially. It was one of their selling points, an aspect of Off the Hook that was entirely unpleasant to Marina.
Starting a romantic relationship with each other? Their label certainly hadn't expected that, though Marina had been suprised. With the way she had been acting towards Pearl, they should have been heading towards total contract termination years ago.
Their publicist sighed, deep and heavy, and Marina still couldn’t speak. What were they going to do? She’d never meant for this to happen. When they’d signed that contract years ago, she’d thought she and Pearl, together, were a far-off dream and a fantasy. And if Marina couldn’t have Pearl, then why would she need anyone else? But then things ( things being the love letter Marina had penned) had happened after the Splatpocolypse and Pearl had been there and now they’d been together, in secret. They had been doing well, despite Marina wanting to scream it all out in front of all of Inkopolis.
“You two were required to uphold the contract—and the values of this company!”
“Who gives a shit?” Pearl concluded, shooting forwards.
"People are going insane," their publicist said. "We need to get this under control!" She adjusted her glasses, turning to her computer screen. "We need to draft up a statement."
Marina slid down in her chair, swallowing as Pearl screeched something, incredulous.
This was going to be a long day.