Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sasha and Marcy are dating.

Anne wishes she could say she’s surprised. 

She’s a scientist, after all. It’s in her nature. Hypothesize, experiment, analyze, conclude. It’s the same way she can tell her frogs are happy, her coworkers think she’s weird, and her parents are worried about her. 

Anne has always prided herself on her social skills. She can read other people better than she can read herself. It’s easy to see how Marcy and Sasha kept drifting closer. How they snuggled up together on that fateful reunion, how eager Sasha was to move Marcy in with her, how domestic they’ve become, with whispered jokes and shared chores. She kept giving them knowing looks, and they would always turn beet red, giggling and shying away from the truth, pulling Anne into their honeymoon bubble to try and hide it. It’s sickeningly cute, and Anne is so happy for them. Truly, from the bottom of her heart, she’s so glad that her two best friends have been able to find each other again. Knowing that they’re happy should be enough for her.

It should be.

So why isn’t it? 

They finally fess up at the end of September, when the first hints of winter chill begin to announce their presence. The days grow shorter, and with it comes a tightness in Anne’s chest. Shorter visits, since her shift ends closer and closer to sundown, and she doesn’t like coming home to a pitch black hallway that’s as empty as her soul. Or maybe she could just stay the night? She wouldn’t dare ask, though they’d probably say yes. Sasha and Marcy always seem sad to see her go. They always try to think of one more game, one more story or joke. But she doesn’t want to intrude and the thought of being a third wheel is nauseating .

“So uh,” Marcy and Sasha sit on the couch across from her. It’s kind of weird. Every time she’s over they all tend to squish together on the couch, touching as much as possible. This feels almost… professional. Marcy clears her throat. “I guess you’ve probably noticed that me and Sasha have gotten uh, closer.” 

Just because it’s obvious doesn’t mean it’s easy for them to have this conversation. Sasha is an interesting shade of maroon, and Marcy has one of her fidget toys in hand. The cube clicks and clicks and clicks, almost like a metronome. It’s a fast song, maybe a tango. 

“Right.” Anne tries to smile. Why can’t she smile?

“And you’ve probably noticed that we uh…” Sasha scratches the back of her head. “Y’know, since we moved in together, we’ve all been getting closer, and… we’ve missed you a lot,” Anne has too, in more ways than she can ever imagine. “I mean, I guess what I’m trying to say is-”

“I know.” Annes interrupts. 

They both freeze. “You… you do…?” Marcy’s voice borders between hope and anxiety. “About… us…? And you…?” 

There’s a weird tickle in her throat, or maybe it’s just a building pressure in her chest the urge to scream . “You two are together. I know.” 

“You- oh.” Sasha’s whole being sags with what should be relief. Marcy’s cube clicking slows down. They seem almost… disappointed? Probably because they wanted to hide it from her. “Yeah… That. We didn’t mean to not tell you, just we wanted to take it slow, and we weren’t sure if this was gonna work out, and-”

“It’s fine.” It’s not. “I’m serious. You guys, I’m happy for you.” She pushes the cheer into her voice. Forces herself to sit up and grin. “You don’t need to feel like you have to hide from me.”

“But… what about you…” Oh, Sasha, how you’ve changed, how sweet you are now. How caring, how kind, it’s not fair.

“I’m fine! Don’t worry about me.” She brushes them off. So what if she wants to curl up in a dark corner and cry her guts out? That’s definitely normal, have you seen the state of things? Everyone wants to do that all the time. 

“Were we that obvious?” Marcy asks.

Anne giggles. “Yeah a bit.” It’s cute, in hindsight. They’re like blushing middle schoolers. “So, how did it happen? I want all the details.” 

The air around the girls softens. It’s like the anxiety melts away, and they’re all back to normal. Except not really. Marcy recounts their first date with a gleam in her eye, while Sasha tries to sink into the chair not out of fear, but embarrassment. She’s so cheesy, she got Marcy flowers and begged her not to leave at the airport. Straight out of a romcom and yet Anne feels the jealousy creep up her chest. Why couldn’t that be her? Why didn’t she think to ask?

Anne’s never been a great actor, or so she thought. But now, sitting there, laughing at the right moments, teasing and poking and prodding, watching as the two move closer and closer, almost as if asking for permission, she’s never felt more fake. Slowly, hesitantly, Sasha wraps her arm around Marcy. Marcy immediately rests back against Sasha’s arm, as if it’s natural, as if they’ve done this so much it’s second nature. Sasha scoots to the side, inviting Anne to sit by them, but she knows it’s an empty gesture. The tightness in Anne’s chest grows. It’s overwhelming, like a red hot iron being pressed into her lungs. There’s something stuck there, something sharp, something wicked and jealous and petty-

Wait no, there’s actually something stuck.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, standing up abruptly. She knows they’re concerned with how fast she rushes into the bathroom, but it doesn’t matter right now. 

The second the door closes, she throws herself over the sink. Each breath is painful. Her stomach spasms, and she coughs so hard she’s afraid she might actually break something. One fist clenches against the granite countertop, another covering her mouth. Is she sick, maybe? Did she get something from one of the visitors? Why now? Why is her body aching just as much as her heart? 

Finally, blissfully, agonizingly, the coughing stops. The urge is gone, whatever was lodged in her throat is loose. It must have been phlegm, or maybe she choked on her own spit, gross. She pulls back her hand, taking a deep, shaky breath-

An autumn leaf sits in her hand, dotted with blood. 

The world caves in around her. Everything is static, she can barely hear beyond a high-pitched tone. She can’t even see in color anymore beyond the orange of the leaf, the red of the blood that slowly drips into her hand. She’s a scientist, she can rationalize, hypothesize. Surely this is just a leaf that she accidentally swallowed, maybe it got into her mouth while she was cleaning a tank at work, it’s from one of her potted plants, there’s no autumn in California she would have coughed this up sooner why is there blood if it was from outside

“Anne?” Sasha knocks on the door. “Are you ok? You’ve been in there a while.” 

The pain is back, it’s growing, it's worse now.

“I-I’m fine,” she manages to say. The leaf crinkles in her grasp, smearing blood across her fingernails. “Just uh… Just…” she can’t think of anything to say. Her brain’s barely working. 

“Can… Can I come in?”

“No!” She blurts out. “No, no, I’m coming, hang on.” She shoves the leaf into her back pocket. When she opens the door, both girls are standing there concerned. 

“Anne… were you crying?” Marcy asks. She rests a hand on Anne’s cheek, wiping a tear away with her thumb. Huh. When did that happen? Was it from the coughing or the sadness?

“I need to go.” 

Sasha and Marcy’s faces fall. “Oh… are you… is it-”

“No, no! I just- I need to-” she pushes past them. They don’t deserve this, she feels like a jerk, but right now she needs to go have a panic attack. “I just have a, uh-” she blindly fumbles for her bag, her shoes, her fingers are trembling as she reties her laces. Marcy and Sasha linger behind her, she can feel their stares. 

Sasha’s eyes are worried too knowing. “Anne… is this about-”

“I gotta go. I’ll text you when I’m home.” It’s the first time since they’ve reunited that they’re parting on bad terms. 

It’s the first time that Anne feels truly alone.

Winter creeps in, and brings more leaves with it. 

The first one could maybe be brushed off. Just a fluke. A nasty surprise. But she gets a text the morning after, asking if she made it home safe, and spends an hour hunched over the toilet coughing up more. She just manages to send them a thumbs up before a large leaf falls out into the bowl, her teeth stained crimson as she gets ready for work. The humid air of the aquarium seems to loosen whatever is lodged in her, and so she takes more hours, gets there early, anything to relieve the pain. Anytime she’s home is spent researching what this could possibly be. A foreign illness? A seed that she inhaled? There are stories like this, right? No amount of Grey’s Anatomy seems to confirm her diagnosis, though. All she can find are hoaxes debunked on Snopes, urban legends and freaky curses from before the modern day. Maybe an Amphibian disease then? No, this definitely isn’t something she’s seen before in her studies. Fungal infections don’t leave frogs coughing up spores. 

Maybe… something from Amphibia? A long dormant illness, only just now making itself known? Maybe… maybe a side effect of… dying? Being reborn? 

She did dissolve into leaves… maybe she’s coughing up her old body somehow… 

But why now? Why so sudden? Why not sooner, right after she died? Why is it just when she thinks that she’s getting over everything, does this rear its ugly head? Maybe it’s because she thought she was over it. 

Hey, she’s known that for the past decade. She’s dealt with it fine. She’s fine! There’s nothing new going on here. Just because her body is violently revolting against her doesn’t mean she won’t live to 91, just like the Guardian said! It’ll pass, it has to. She can’t die. She knows that. In fact, she’s quite sure of it! If she didn’t die as a teenager, running loose and partying with the wrong crowd, she won’t die now. She doesn’t bother to report this to her government-mandated doctor, to X, or to anyone that should know. Because it’s not like this is going to kill her, and that’s all they should be concerned about. The same goes for Sasha and Marcy. They don’t need to know. 

They don’t. Need. To know. 

It might look like Anne is avoiding her best friends, but really, she’s not! Just between her studies and work and helping her parents and hacking up a lung and losing way too much bloodshe’s been busy, is all! So what if she spends nights slowly choking, staring at a photo from their last date? So what if the thought of them, Sasha with her soft hair that she so desperately wants to run her hands through, Marcy with those bright eyes and smile she would do anything to see, makes her cry in pain? So what if she literally can’t spend more than an hour with them before her body starts acting up? It’s fine! She doesn’t mind! Besides, no one wants to be a third wheel, she’s happy to leave early and let the two lovebirds go at it! Surely they’d want some alone time together anyway! She doesn’t give herself the chance to look back, refuses to see their definite relief, clearly they’re glad that she’s leaving, that they don’t need her, want her, want her like she wants them. 

She doesn’t see the way Sasha buries her head in her hands, and Marcy tries not to cry. 

“Valentine’s is coming up soon,” Anne says conversationally. Her voice is scratchy. The three of them are in a cafe, meeting up before Anne goes to work. They asked her to meet, and well, she can’t exactly say no to them. She never could, even after learning to stand up for herself. That’s normal, right? Perfectly normal friendship emotions because it can’t be love that would surely kill her. 

“I guess,” Marcy’s distracted, by what, Anne can’t tell. She has her hand rested on her fists and keeps staring into her soul. Almost through her. There’s a faint blush of pink to her cheeks, no doubt from the early morning chill. There’s a gentle fog that rolls through the city, keeping it unusually brisk, even for this time of year. It’s affecting her too, Anne’s constantly cold nowadays. 

“So, what are you guys doing for your first holiday as a couple?” There’s a prickle in her lungs. She can physically feel it, a sharp leaf stem poking at her ribcage, making its way up her esophagus. She forces it down. 

“Oh! U-um…” she and Sasha share nervous glances. Is something wrong? Did she say something wrong? Surely not, she’s been so careful around them lately. Every word has to be thought out, lest she say something particularly painful, both mentally and physically. 

“We actually, uh, we were thinking about going into the mountains, maybe getting an airbnb…” Sasha flushes. “I know it sounds like a lot, but-”

Marcy cuts her off. “We um, were wondering actually…” Marcy twirls a finger around her hair. Her tea grows cold. Anne takes a sip of her coffee to chase off her exhaustion, she’s always tired nowadays. “If you maybe wanted to come with…?” 

This… this has to be a joke. Whatever plant has made its home in her lungs, it’s in her heart now. It’s squeezing it tight, that’s the only explanation she can think of for how it stops dead in her chest. How she’s somehow still alive, still breathing. She’s just a puppet for these plants now, the roots have infiltrated every part of her body, they have overtaken her nervous system. Why else is she frozen in place, unable to run? Why else are the words trapped in her throat, hidden under a layer of leaves? 

Marcy and Sasha stare at her, waiting for a response. She’s been quiet for too long.

“I-I mean… sure! I’d love to!” They wouldn’t be asking if they didn’t want her, right…? It’s only fair… unless they’re only asking to be polite and want her to say no.  “Are you sure I wouldn’t be, you know… intruding?” 

“No!” Sasha says it way too fast. Almost like a reflex. She leans forward so fast she almost falls out of her chair. “No. Not at all! Really!”

“We want you there.” Marcy takes her hand. It’s quite warm, chasing off freezing fingertips. Her whole body heats up, there’s a warmth fluttering in her stomach, and for the first time in months, she takes a full breath of air. It feels like a jolt to her system, she’s more awake and aware than she has been in a while. She can feel Marcy’s heartbeat through her hands. It’s so warm, so addicting. Sasha takes the other hand, and they form a daisy chain, a chain that conducts not electricity, but love, flowing between the two and Anne is so cruel, so selfish for relishing in it before passing it on. She wants nothing more than to hold onto it forever. She wants to swallow it all, to take and take and leave nothing for them to share, how cruel is that? How cruel is she, such a bad friend. How have they not noticed? How do they not care? Maybe they do, maybe this is their way of trying to let her down easy. Maybe at this cabin they’ll sit her down and say they care, but they need space. They need her to stop feeling so strongly, to stop obsessing and aching and wanting and it’s so palpable surely they must have noticed, they must have. 

Maybe this is the end, Anne thinks sadly. Maybe this is the last time she’ll ever feel this warmth. If that’s the case, she’s going to hold onto it for just a second longer. 

“Oh, by the way,” Sasha breaks their silence. “Are you wearing new lipstick? It’s a really pretty shade of red.” 

Anne smiles with her mouth closed. “Yeah,” she lies. “I am.”

Chapter Text

The week before, Anne calls out sick from work. 

In fact, she uses all of her sick days. Her boss has noticed, everyone’s noticed. It’s obvious, the way she stumbles through presentations when she has them memorized by heart. The way her hands shake so badly she can’t hold her frogs. She can barely get her fingers to cooperate into gloves. Simple procedure keeps getting messed up. In this day and age, the fact they don’t fire her is a miracle. Instead, her boss pulls her aside and tells her to go to the hospital, and not to come back until she has an explanation. 

Ha. She’d like one too. 

She holes herself in her apartment with the curtains drawn and the lights off, hoping that somehow the leaves will wither and die inside her. Lack of photosynthesis and all that. It’s certainly killing her houseplants. This is the one time she’s grateful she lives alone, that Domino, ancient beast she is, still lives with mom and dad. 

And yet, as Valentine’s Day approaches, the dread only grows. 

This isn’t a normal reaction, she knows this. She should be excited! A weekend getaway with her best friends, just the three of them, like how they used to. It’s just an extended sleepover. 

But it’s not. It’s something more. If only it were something more.

She’s figured it out. Trial and error. Experimentation. Good ol’ scientific process. Anytime she starts to think about… them, about them together, about being together with her, everytime she feels her jealousy creeping up, tinted with shame, she has an episode. Whenever or however she got this sickness is irrelevant. She knows her symptoms. As long as she manages to just not think about them, she’ll be fine, right? 

…Right? 

They have to know how ridiculous this all sounds, right? Inviting Anne to their couple’s retreat for fucking Valentine’s Day. Ten years ago Anne would’ve considered this a prank. It’s definitely something the old Sasha would’ve done. The moment she thinks that, she feels awful. Sasha’s changed, they’ve all changed. Honestly, if anything, Sasha has become too caring, too sweet and soft and everything Anne has ever wanted. Marcy’s always been sweet, but now there’s something underlying it, a hidden meaning that Anne can’t figure out. In all honesty, they probably just worry she’ll feel left out. Which, sure, she does, but not in the way they think. 

She considers backing out. Maybe if she came clean, if she told them about her condition, they’d take pity on her. They’d shoo her to the hospital and go have a lovely time with each other, on Valentine’s Day, because they’re a normal couple and this is what normal couples do. They don’t invite their best friend along. They don’t bring the third wheel to a bicycle race. 

But maybe Anne is selfish, or a masochist, or maybe even suicidal, because she shows up at their doorstep at exactly 7 am, suitcase in hand. 

“You made it!” Marcy is quick to squeeze her. “Let me get your bags.” 

“What, no, I got it-” Anne is cut off by Sasha practically throwing herself down the porch in a rush to grab the bag. 

“Dibs!” She shrieks, dodging Marcy with a grin. Marcy squeals, chasing the blonde all the way to the car as Anne can only dumbly stare. Is this some sort of inside joke or…?

“Um, you both can help…?” She offers. 

“Sure thing, Annie!” Sasha chirps as she pushes her suitcase into the trunk with their things. “Is this all? Anything else?” 

“Just my hiking stuff, you said there were some trails by the cabin.” She fidgets a bit with the straps. “Marcy, do you have a cane?”

“Oh, yeah! ...You remembered?” Marcy’s voice is soft, almost airy. 

“Well, yeah, why wouldn’t I?” It’s not like she thinks about her all the time, every smile, every joke, every fact ingrained in her skin. 

“Most people kinda forget since I don’t use them often.” Her cheeks are such a pretty red all of a sudden. She’s not wrong; Anne can’t remember the last time she saw it. “It’s very kind of you to ask, though.” 

“It’s Anne we’re talking about, she’s always nice.” Sasha hums, resting her head on Marcy’s shoulder. Blue eyes stare straight through her. “Always looking out for us.” 

Anne coughs into her fist. It’s rougher than she meant for it to sound. She spits into the palm of her hand and wipes it off. “Right, yup, so let’s get going?” She shoves herself into the back seat before either of them can argue, making sure to place her bag on the other seat. She misses their shared glance of concern, and the disappointed huff as Marcy sits up front.

The drive up to the cabin is long, but not miserably so. The place is situated in the San Gabriel mountains, just a couple miles away from one of the many tourist towns. The snow was too low for more athletic folks. Thanks, climate change, Anne thinks morbidly. 

She rolls the window down, letting the song from the front seats fall out of the car and into the wind. The chill is biting, but not nearly as sharp as the pain in her chest. She’d been really hoping it wouldn’t show up so soon. Her friends’ voices are so soothing, she wants to drown in them. She wants those love songs to be for her. Even the cheesy ones Sasha belts out.

Grand pines greet them at the cabin a few hours after lunchtime. Marcy bounces out of her seat the second they park, opening the door for Anne with an overdramatic bow. “My lady, your carriage has arrived!” 

Anne laughs. “Why thank you, kind sir, however shall I repay your kindness?” 

“Perhaps the lady doth will lend me her hand?” She takes Anne’s hand in her own, pulling her out of the car before she can protest. When did Marcy become the smooth one? When did Anne become the clumsy one? All she can do is stare as Marcy presses a kiss to her hand. What did she do to deserve this? She wants to grab Marcy by the cheeks and pull her close, make her kiss every inch of her face-

Her other hand covers her mouth as she coughs, doubling over. “Woah, Annie! Are you ok?” Marcy doesn’t let go, despite how Anne shies back. If anything she grips tighter. The pain is blinding. Damn it, she let herself slip. She let herself give into the fantasy, let the love that overwhelms her spill out just too much. It’s almost like this disease is reminding her of reality, that any moment of affection should be forgotten as soon as it’s over. 

“I’m good,” she rasps out in between coughs. “Just-” As if proving her wrong, another wave of pain and pressure wraps around her lungs. 

When she finally stands up straight, her own pain is reflected in Marcy’s eyes. She looks down at their hands. The winter chill bites at her fingers, but she lets go anyway. “Wrong pipe is all,” Anne sighs. “It happens.” 

The mood is ruined. Way to go, Anne. Marcy leads her back into the cabin, and Anne drops the leaf from her palm as they go.

“You know, Sash was really excited when she found this place,” Marcy says. “We knew you’d like it.”

Anne frowns. “Me? What about you two?” 

“What about us?” It’s such an innocent question, and yet the answer is so unfathomably loaded. “We want you to enjoy this, Anne.” 

Anne doesn’t reply. If she tried, she might not be able to stop the torrent of leaves she can feel filling her cheeks. Instead, she pulls herself away, lets herself into the first room she sees before promptly spitting everything out into the closest trash can. Gross. A long trail of red drips from her mouth, poisoned blood and poisoned soul, proof that whatever she’s thinking right now can’t be good, why else would she be cursed like this? 

She rolls her neck with a sigh. It’s fine. It’s been like this for ages. She can’t bear to burden her girls with these thoughts, not after everything they’d been through. Anne was the lucky one. She didn’t need a cane or a fucking veteran’s support group . She wasn’t haunted by nightmares of code and fire and the screams of her loved ones. She can handle a little… whatever this is. 

It’s at this moment she takes stock of her surroundings. Seems she’s found the bedroom.

With only one bed. 

Is… is there a guest room? Or a couch…? They wouldn’t book a place with only one bed, right? That would just be cruel… right? Sure, when they were kids they all slept together, but that was normal! None of their parents had guest rooms, and they were tiny. They could all squish in together. Plus, two of them weren’t dating back then. 

Blugh. She’s coughed up another leaf. At this point she might as well find a rake. Guess she needs to go ask about sleeping situation-

Pretty much the second Anne opens the door she’s ambushed by Sasha with sunscreen. “Um. Hi?”

“Wanna go on a hike?” 

“Like, right now?”

“Yeah! Stretch your legs! Enjoy the mountain air!” 

Anne opens her mouth, then closes it. “Um… I mean I guess-“

“Perfect!” Sasha literally slaps sunscreen onto her cheek. She doesn’t even let Anne rub it in before throwing them back outside into the waiting arms of an amused Marcy. She’s got her cane in one hand, and hiking poles in the other. 

“You planned this.”

“Maybe.” Marcy shrugs. 

Sasha scoffs. “Oh, don’t let her act fool you. She’s been more excited than me.” 

Marcy burns a bright red. “Was not!” 

“Was too! You were doing your cute little nerd-isms all over the place! Anne, do you know how many frog species live around here?” Well duh, of course she does. Sasha cuts her off. “I know. It’s six. Marcy has been researching them.” She laughs as Marcy takes a swing at her girlfriend. She manages to pull Marcy into a headlock with a cackle. 

“Oh like you’re any better!” Marcy’s voice rings out from underneath Sasha’s jacket. “You picked this place ‘cuz of the pond!” 

“Time out,” Anne calls, growing more overwhelmed with each passing second. It’s like they’re little kids again, with Sasha and Marcy constantly coming up with hair-brained schemes to pull Anne into, either for attention or curiosity’s sake. “Have you been planning this for me…?”

Sasha and Marcy pause mid-scuffle. Sasha’s hair is a mess. She drops Marcy to the ground. “Um. Maybe.” she admits. 

“Wanna go see some frogs?” Marcy asks. 

Well it’s not like Anne could say no to that.

Anne should’ve said no. 

She tries not to think too hard about the excited bounce in Marcy’s steps, or the map Sasha held, the fact that they planned this trip around her, for her, one bed one bed one bed do not get your hopes up do not do not do NOT

It’s a bit hard to choke to death quietly. She is Hansel and Gretel, leaving a trail of leaves for them to follow, their reds and oranges a sharp contrast to the pine needles that dance in the wind. Her blood drips like sap, dragging her hand against bark to wipe it off, a symbol of her agony. No doubt it’ll freak out the next poor soul to come this way. 

Maybe a few months ago she could do this. She spent a semester abroad hunting frogs in the tropics, she was used to long walks and muddy shoes that pulled her down with every step. Now every step is a battle, her exhaustion weighing on her. She can almost feel the vines, thorns digging into her legs and pulling her back, further away from the other two who keep looking back. Please stop looking back. 

“Anne, are you good?” Sasha asks. Marcy isn’t even leaning on her cane, it’s kind of funny how sad this is. “You look a bit pale.”

“Do I?” Anne laughs. It’s mostly air. “Must still be tired from the drive.”

“Car rides do make you sleepy.” Sasha agrees. Anne tries not to blush, the faint memories of dozing off in Sasha’s new car as stupid high schoolers surfacing. Most of those nights were a blurry haze of poor decisions at some random kid’s party. And yet, no matter how late it got or how shady the place, Sasha would always make sure she got home safe, leading her into her house with a strong hand on her back. 

“Well, we’re almost there, so-” Sasha doesn’t wait for Anne to even notice her. The next thing Anne knows she’s several feet in the air, her legs wrapped around Sasha’s waist. 

“Sasha!” She squeals, almost flailing backwards as she scrambles to clutch to the blond. Sasha just laughs, that jerk. She can feel each breath rumble against her chest. It’s warm, a balm against the ice that has frosted over her chest for so long. Oh frog, she wants to wrap her arms around Sasha’s broad shoulders so bad. “Marcy, are you ok with this!?” 

Marcy’s taking a photo. Damn it. “We’re almost there, promise!” She takes off down the path, Sasha following at a steadier pace. 

“Seriously,” Anne whines from her place. She doesn’t quite nuzzle herself into the crook of Sasha’s neck; it would be nice though. “I can walk just fine. You should go join Marcy.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re dating her.” Is she stating the obvious? She feels like she’s stating the obvious. “I bet you do this all the time.” 

“Nah, she won’t let me.” Sasha hums. She leans her head back so she can look at Anne. “Makes her feel smothered, with her cane and all.” She pauses for a beat. “I wish I had a girl to carry around.” Anne can only stare bewildered. 

Why did she say that? Why did she have that look in her eye, the one she only uses on Marcy? She can’t… it… her head hurts. She shakes it, as if to literally push the thoughts away. It just makes her dizzier. Her nails dig into Sasha. She bites her lip so hard it bleeds. 

“...Please put me down.” she whispers. She’s not even sure if Sasha hears it. They’re just about caught up with Marcy anyway. Sasha kneels down, letting Anne gratefully slide down off of her. She doesn’t look back, jogging to catch up the rest of the way. 

“Check it out!” Marcy points out across the pond to the setting sun. “We’re just in time.” They really planned this to a T, huh. The slowly dimming brook around them is washed in golden sun. Sure enough, just out in the distance, she can see the reflective eyes of various species crawl out. Most frog species only breed in springtime, but some California natives are known to breed in winter. The cooler temperatures are too cold for most reptiles, making it safe for frogs to come out and breed. She can even see a few toads, enjoying the last few sunrays before beginning their song. 

“Woah.” Anne usually sticks to coastal frogs. She prefers the humidity and heat, the closest comparisons she has to the eternal stickiness that is Amphibia. There’s something in the air that is just too crisp on Earth. The mountain air is similarly brisk, biting on her already weak lungs, but right now… it doesn’t feel painful. Almost… good. Enjoyable. 

Or maybe it’s because of the two women at her side, kneeling down into the dirt with her, letting her talk about the species she sees. They each press up against her shoulder, squaring her into a cocoon of warmth. 

Try as she might, she can’t seem to get herself out of this… funk. This almost… hoping. She shouldn’t stare at Sasha’s smile. She shouldn’t reach out for Marcy’s hair. But neither of them complain. Marcy leans into her touch. Sasha threads fingers between Anne’s. 

It’s wrong, she knows it’s wrong. But frog, if this is wrong, what good is being right? She doesn’t want to be right. Why can’t this be how it always is? Is she just doomed to be forever alone, wanting more, leaving this world without any attachments to become a perfect goddess?

Her lips wobble, trying to hold back tears. She’s so tired of the pain. Of the hiding. The silence. The isolation. All of it. She can’t do it anymore. All of the pressure is caving in, the warmth becoming searing. The thorns tear through her lungs. They rip alveoli and puncture her skin. That’s the only explanation for the sudden rush of pure agony she feels. Anne lurches forward with a rattled cry. Sasha and Marcy aren’t far behind, confused and concerned, but Anne can’t let them see. She pushes them back, presses her head down, and lets her hair fall over her face. Each cough is wet. There’s just as much blood as there are leaves. Most of them are stained, maple-red, even though the leaves are all different sizes and shapes. The leaves fall into the water before her friends can see them. Red water spreads from her mouth. The frogs scatter; they’re very sensitive to water quality. This is some plagues of Egypt shit. When did this get so bad? It wasn’t nearly this bad before. She’s not sure it could get much worse than this without actively suffocating her. 

“Holy shit, Anne!” When she finally manages to get her breathing under control, Sasha and Marcy look terrified. “That sounds awful. ” Sasha is brushing hair from her face. “You’re so pale, are you sick?”

Anne swallows back bile. “M’ fine.” 

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Marcy scolds. She’s pressing against Anne’s pulse point while Sasha feels her forehead. Leave it to the alchemist and psychologist to play doctor. “You’re shaking.”

“I am?” she didn’t even notice. How long has that been going on? She doesn’t even feel all that cold. Her words sound a bit funny too. Almost hollow. Probably all the blood loss. 

“Annie,” Marcy’s voice is calmer, but still nervous. “You could’ve told us you weren’t feeling good, we would’ve rescheduled.”

Reschedule their trip? Why? Wouldn’t they want Valentine’s to themselves? Why now? Why not any other week? Anne shakes her head. “N-no, you wanted-”

“We want you to be safe.” No sooner than those words are said, Sasha scoops her up. “We’re spending the night in the cabin, and then it’s straight to the hospital, missy.”

This time, Anne can’t stop herself from leaning into the warmth. She’s too tired. 

It shouldn’t be so surprising that Sasha can cook. 

And yet, Anne can only stare as Sasha whirls around the kitchen at the speed of sound. Where did she get all this stuff? Did she pack it in the car? She tries to step in, but Sasha swats her away. She pushes her back towards the couch, where she’s set up the fireplace and blankets.

“Let her do this,” Marcy says. “She loves being a provider.” Sasha blushes but doesn’t disagree. It makes sense, she always was their protector growing up. Even after Amphibia, she always felt the need to check in, to make sure Anne was doing ok. Even when Anne pulled back, when she acted out, when teenage angst mixed with a messy messiah complex, she was right there. It’s… nice, how familiar it is. Comforting, even. 

“What can I say? I love my girls.” Sasha boasts. “Besides Anne, you’ve been working so hard lately! You deserve to relax.” 

“I… have?” 

“Well yeah, you always stay at work late. It’s probably why you’re sick.” Sasha looks up briefly from her project, almost shy. “We’ve missed you, you know.”

There’s a fluttery, bubbly feeling in her gut. It fizzles, soothing the stings and aches that line her lungs. “I… I missed you too.” It’s true, after all. Every time she pulled away, it might have spared some blood, but the pain never really went away. It just took a new form. 

Still, shouldn’t Sasha be doing this for Marcy? Isn’t this rather… domestic? Romantic? No, it can’t be… it can’t. Just like the car and the hike and Sasha’s warm arms and Marcy’s kiss and-

“I’m going to- um, I just gotta- bathroom, I-” she stumbles over her words, barely able to turn down the hall before they see how red her face is turning. Is she blushing or just resisting the urge to throw up a garden shed? She slaps her cheeks. No Anne, bad Anne, this is clearly just a nice thing friends do for each other! This is platonic. It has to be. Because Sasha is so smitten with Marcy, she can see it so clearly, the way they know each other so well know her so well. It doesn’t matter. It’s platonic. 

Maybe if she tells herself that, she’ll stop wishing. 

That’s what this is, isn’t it? Just aimless wishing that’s slowly killing her with its impossibility. The tiny, stupid part of her that refuses to accept her fate is so damn loud. Why can’t it just give up? Why can’t she just give up? Just because she wants this so bad, wants them so bad, she doesn’t deserve to die for this… right? And yet, at the way things are going, if she doesn’t accept it sooner… 

She practically drags herself out of the bathroom. She has to lean on the wall for support. Frog, she’s so tired. She can barely move her legs. They shake like a newborn deer. She needs to catch her breath just when she lifts up her head. 

“...Really worried…” voices filter out from the kitchen. Anne leans against the doorframe. “She probably picked something up from work, right?”

“Yeah,” Sasha is stirring the food. “You know Anne, she hates admitting she needs help.”

“Reminds me of someone I know,” Marcy teases gently. She bumps Sasha’s hip, and Sasha bumps back. How dare Anne watch such a private moment. 

Sasha pauses. “I mean, this was a good idea, right?”

“Oh, duh. You saw how happy she was at the pond.” Marcy agrees. “The way she just lit up…!” 

“She let me carry her.” Sasha sounds almost thrilled. “Marcy, she let me carry her.”

“Yea, I saw, you big dork. Are you happy? Is your butch side satisfied?”

“Very.” Sasha puffs up. “We’ll have to try this again when she’s feeling better.” 

Try? Try what? 

“Definitely. We don’t wanna shock her.” Marcy hums. “Though I think we should’ve just told her from the start.”

“Tell me what?” 

Both women jump. They weren’t expecting Anne’s voice to be so… dark. Scratchy. Anne wasn’t either. She didn’t mean to sound so… angry. Because she’s not, honestly, not at them. No, she’s mad at herself. 

“Tell me what?” She repeats.

Marcy and Sasha are deer in her headlights. There’s guilt in their eyes. For talking behind her back, or for what they have to say? 

The answer hits her like a ton of bricks. “Oh.” she says. “You knew. You knew how I felt, didn’t you? I mean, how could you not, everyone could see it, I’m not exactly subtle.” She staggers forward, almost falling before catching herself. 

Of course. Of fucking course, how could she not see it sooner? She’s the scientist, she should’ve seen this conclusion a mile away! It all makes sense. Get her relaxed, show her they care about her with the little hike, then sit her down and tell her they’re flattered, they love her too, but it’s strictly platonic. They’re perfectly happy together without her. They don’t want her, don’t need her the way she needs them like she needs air. 

Anne can’t help it. She laughs. It’s a broken wheeze, a clarinet out of tune, but she can’t stop. It’s a horrible sound. It grates on her ears. The leaves gnash and whirl and a tornado forms in her chest. It’s blowing all around her, she’s crying, she’s laughing, she’s bleeding from her nose and mouth. She can’t stop the torrent. She can’t hide it anymore. Now look at her, making a mess in this random person’s house. Blood drips down the wood, slow at first, then faster, and with it comes a leaf. And then another. With each laugh she dislodges more and more, and her laugh becomes more of a cough, then a choke, and suddenly she’s unable to stand up anymore. The whole world is upside down, no wait, she's just on the floor. Is she drunk or dying? It’s hard to say. Judging by Sasha and Marcy’s faces, it’s probably the latter. 

“It's ok,” she says, or rather tries to say, it’s muffled by too many leaves. Why is Marcy crying? Why does Sasha look so scared? They’re saying something, she thinks it’s her name, but she can’t hear. All she can hear is a high-pitched tone drowning everything else out. She might be drowning too. She’s drowning, and they’re the surface. She can feel each breath fail, the leaves are stuck in her throat. 

The last thing she sees is a streak of blood her thumb leaves on Marcy’s face. 

Chapter Text

If Marcy had a nickel for every time she thought Anne died surrounded by a bunch of leaves, she’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened twice. 

The first time Anne died was the worst day of Marcy’s life. It’s one thing to die, to feel overwhelming fear over your life and stare doom head on in the form of the man you once trusted. It’s a whole other thing to see someone else die. Not just anyone, but your oldest and dearest friend, who sacrificed herself because you weren’t strong enough to fix the mistake you made. Those minutes where she thought Anne was gone were the worst moments of her life, hands down. 

Now though… now is definitely up there. 

When Anne collapsed… it was like she was 13 all over again. That crippling grief and fear and holy shit what just happened is all too familiar. Last time she at least knew what was happening. When Anne came down from the Core, broken beyond repair, she knew her best friend was dying. This time, she had no fucking clue what was going on. 

She doesn’t think she’ll ever unsee that image of Anne slowly choking on leaves. The way she doubled over, each cough causing more to shoot out, her face a blustery autumn day, before reaching a shaking hand up to the two of them. Sasha and Marcy had been too frozen in fear and confusion to save her, as Anne finally fell over, unable to stand. She was on her knees, reaching out for her salvation, and they couldn’t help her. Then Anne passed out, and they sprung into action. It took a good minute just to clear her airway. There were so many leaves, slick with blood, so much blood, there wasn’t blood last time she died. Marcy almost threw up, seeing her hands covered in red. 

Their cabin was too far out. No ambulance could help. So they piled her into the car, Marcy in the backseat with Anne’s head on her lap while Sasha drove well over twice the speed limit. Every jolt Anne gave was both relieving and terrifying. Relief, since it meant she was still breathing. Terror, since it was more blood lost, more leaves from who knows where. Anne’s always been a heavy sleeper but this… frog, what Marcy would’ve given to see her open her eyes just once . Just one smile, one cry or even declaring she hated them, that she’d never love them or… something! Anything but that terrifying stillness! 

The hospital is quiet. It’s sometime after midnight, Marcy hasn’t really checked. All she can do is stare at the O2 monitor, the mask on Anne’s face, and her ashen complexion. Each breath sounds broken. Wet or hitched or… Caught. Trapped. She’s sounded like that for a while, now that Marcy thinks about it. Her voice has been so faint, so muffled. Distant, just like the rest of her. They thought she was just busy, that work had her up at odd hours and staying late into the night. Now, she’s not sure what to think. 

She spent hours looking up random frog facts to try and impress Anne, and Sasha spent so much money on the AirBnB (they’re definitely going to get a phone call about that later; they left a lot of blood). They didn’t even know if Anne was polyamorous, after all. What if they got this wrong? What if Anne decided they were better off as friends, or worse, nothing at all? 

All this time, they’d been so focused on creating the perfect romantic getaway they didn’t notice the target of their affection was sick. Damn, this is just like Doki Doki Literature Club, Marcy thinks morbidly. 

The night they confessed their relationship, they wanted to ask her out. That had been the plan. They’d tell Anne they were dating, and ask her to join them. Sasha would hold her hand and tell her how Anne inspired her to be the kind of person she is today. Marcy would admit she’s admired her from afar for years, every mile between them agony. But then Anne had run out so suddenly, and they couldn’t get her alone after… anytime they brought her on a date she’d leave early. They figured it was work, or, on days where they were extra hopeful, she’d just been shy. No, turns out it was a goddamn biblical curse or something. 

How long has she been hiding this? For that matter, why was she hiding this? Did she not trust them? No, Marcy knows it’s not that. This is just how Anne is. She thinks her problems are so minor that no one would or should care. Just knowing that breaks her heart all over again. Can’t she see how much they love her? How can Marcy show Anne that she is her everything, that Sasha would die for her, that they would give up the world and a half just to ensure her happiness? 

Sasha’s not taking it well either. She’s got her thumb glued to her lip. The poor thing’s chewed raw. Marcy has tried to remove it at least six times by now. Every time she lets go of one hand, the other goes up. It’s a nervous habit she picked up from Grime all those years ago. What else can she even do? Pick the doctor’s brains? They’re just as clueless. The best explanation they had was “acute anemia mixed with pneumonia”. Sasha just about punched the nurse who said that. 

After Amphibia, they all got assigned a team of doctors who were aware of their… special cases. They’re really not allowed to see anyone else or the government has a fit. Any potential specialist has to sign an NDA. It’s a giant pain in the ass, but one they’re grateful for right now. How do you explain “our friend is choking on leaves that we think are growing out of her body”? You don’t. You page Sasha’s old surgeon and tell them it’s “weird Amphibia bullshit”. 

Sasha sighs, jolting Marcy out of her self loathing. She leans back in the plastic chair, glaring at the screens, silently willing them to improve. Her face is pinched in anger, but she’s not mad, Marcy can tell. Sasha just hides her concern behind a wall. She’ll complain and scowl and huff, but at the end of the day, she’s a big softie. Marcy takes pride in how she can bring out that side of her. There’s only one other person she opens up to, truly blossoms to her full potential with, and that girl is asleep right now. 

Marcy lays her head on Sasha’s shoulder. She threads their fingers together. The other woman sags against her like a puppet with its strings cut. 

“It wasn’t supposed to go like this,” Marcy finally says.

Sasha sighs. It tickles her ear. “Yeah, it wasn’t.” 

“I… we had a plan.” It’s hard to say it all out loud. Almost painful. But it needs to be said. “We were gonna… take her to the pond… and tell her how we feel.” her voice shakes. 

“Yeah.”

“We were gonna ask her out.” Marcy says. “We were gonna… woo her, and-and watch corny romance movies, you know she loves that kinda stuff, and then, we’d have a sleepover, like old times.” It would be different, sharing a bed, the three of them. It would have had meaning. It would’ve been the start of something amazing. 

“We really didn’t think this through.” Sasha grumbles.

“No, we thought about it a lot?”

“I meant,” Sasha rolls her eyes. “We charged in headfirst without thinking about Anne.” She wipes at her face. “I mean, I noticed she wasn’t feeling well, but I was so caught up in our plan I just-”

“Scooped her up like a damsel in distress?” 

“That.” Sasha pouts. If it were any other situation, Marcy would be laughing at her expression. She looks like a kicked puppy. 

“Yeah but,” Marcy hums. “I don’t think either of us could’ve predicted this.” She knows what’s really going on. Sasha is blaming herself, thinking that somehow Anne’s pain is her fault again. She’s been there. She’s there every time she sees Sasha’s back scar. 

“She should’ve told us,” Sasha grips her hand so tight it hurts. “She should’ve told us about this… why didn’t she…?” Sasha groans, leaning back. “I hate this. I hate this so much. It’s like we’re kids again. It’s like when she didn’t give us a chance to help her and just… sacrificed herself!” Marcy winces. A nurse gives them the side eye as she walks by. 

“Why does she do this to herself?” Sasha whispers. “Why is she so stupid?"

Marcy’s eyes drift back towards the monitors. “Probably the same reason we didn’t tell her how we feel.” 

For Anne, existence comes slowly.

There’s no blaring alarm or jolt of adrenaline. It’s a slow fade. One moment she’s awake, then she’s asleep again. There’s no concept of time or space, just her and the void. She doesn’t remember any of it, though. It’s a pause of consciousness. Her brain doesn’t register any stimuli. Of course, she doesn’t particularly care, she can’t care. She has no capacity for thought. 

And then, after an eternity of this cycle, it’s over. There’s no defining moment. It just ends. She’s a person again, with thoughts and memories and emotions and pain . Her throat is on fire, her stomach is swirling. Every inch of her feels weak. It's a monstrous effort just to open her eyes, but it gets easier with every blink. 

Sasha and Marcy don’t notice she’s awake at first. They’re talking quietly somewhere off to the side. About what, or to who, Anne doesn’t really care. She doesn’t want to look at them right now. She’d surely burst into tears. 

Anne sighs. She knows she has to tell them. She just… really doesn’t want to, ok? Can’t they just pretend for a few more minutes that they’re back at the pond, or even better, back before Sasha and Marcy started dating? Before all of this began?

The moment she thinks that, a deep shame takes root. A pulse of pain spikes through Anne’s chest. She feels like an idiot. She literally told herself what was probably going to happen on this trip when she first accepted it! That was the plan, right? Butter her up, then let her down easy? The whole time, she’d been prepared to be left out, to be the third wheel. But then they were so caring, damn them, so sweet and silly and patient and too much. She got her hopes up . No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t stop loving them. And when she heard their conversation in the kitchen, she let her disappointment take hold. Because of course, how could Anne forget the truth, that no matter how perfect it had been, no matter how loved she felt, it would never be enough for her. Stupid, selfish Anne. 

Her throat seizes. 

Whatever conversation Sasha and Marcy were having stops immediately. Anne instinctively curls away from them, but it just makes the fit worse. Her breath fogs up the machine. The mask tints red as she pulls it off and spits out debris. 

“Anne!” They both cry. In a flash they’re pawing at every inch of her, and when they can’t get any closer from their chairs, they get onto the bed. There are too many hands on her, pulling her towards them, burning her skin. It’s not a bad feeling though, so she doesn’t complain. 

“Hey, keep the mask on,” Sasha leaves no room for arguing. “Your body isn’t getting enough oxygen. It’s almost like there’s something in your lungs right now.” 

“Sash!” Marcy scolds. She looks up at the monitor, biting her lip when the number goes down. “She’s right, though. You gotta keep it on.” She runs a hand through messy curls. 

It’s so easy for Anne to lean into the touch, let her eyes slip closed. All her focus goes to the cool oxygen. She’s not sure how much time passes, maybe a minute? An hour? When she opens her eyes again, they’re both staring at her with so much heartbreak they might as well be a mirror for her own feelings. It’s nauseating. 

Leave it to Sasha to get right to the point. “What’s going on with you?” 

Anything but that question. “Can we just not…?” Anne mumbles. She’s a bit muffled by the mask. 

“Not what?” Marcy asks.

“Talk about it.” Anne averts her eyes. “Talk about… this.” She’s not ready to hear it. She’s not ready to have her heart broken. 

Sasha takes a deep breath. She stares right through Anne. “No.”

“Just not right now!” 

“Then when?” Sasha shoots back. “When are we gonna talk about the fact that you almost died? How long have you been hiding… this?” She grips Anne’s hand in a bruising grip, but she doesn’t care. She cares more about the tears that have started falling. 

Sasha’s breath shakes as she cries. “Anne… do you have any idea how fucking terrified we were?” She’s lost the edge in her voice. Marcy covers her face, hiding her shaking shoulders. All that’s left is something broken, something jagged and in desperate need of smoothing over. “What if… what if we lose you again? I can’t lose you again. Marcy can’t lose you again. Please. Please don’t go again.” 

Again.

Stupid, selfish Anne. 

Anne grips Sasha’s hand just as tight. She asks, “...What did you want to tell me?” 

It’s a low blow, but it works. Sasha drops her hand like it burns. Marcy flinches. Bingo. Hypothesize, test, conclude. They’re hiding something bad, something like a rejection. They don’t want to tell her now, not when she’s this fragile. But what else is there to say at this point? The truth is so disgusting, so shameful, that she loathes to even think about admitting it, just as they clearly don’t want to hurt her feelings. “Guess we’re all hiding something, huh.” 

“Anne,” Marcy has half a mind to beg, but it’d just make her a hypocrite.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” she shrugs. It’s not fine. “Tell you what, I'll talk, then you, ok?” They nod. 

Anne sighs and leans back. “I think it’s from Amphibia? I’m not really sure, actually. It makes sense. I ate a ton of crap back then, maybe it’s just coming back up? Or maybe it’s my body. Y’know, my other one. ‘Cuz I dissolved into leaves, you remember?”

“Hard to forget,” Marcy mumbles. She rubs her arm, forcing down goosebumps. 

“It started in September.” She remembers it down to the second, how could she not? “I tried to figure out what it was before telling anyone, I-I guess I just… was afraid? Maybe it was the Guardian’s way of taking me back, or something. But… it’s not. I’ve figured it out, so it’s fine.” 

She smiles. There are tears in her eyes. “It’s just me being selfish.”

“...What?” Marcy furrows her brow. 

“It… it’s…” Anne sighs. She can’t look at them when she says this part. She just can’t. What a coward. “It’s because I’m in love with you, both of you.” Now that she’s said it, the words tumble out, faster than any leaf ever fell. “Surprise! I’m in love with you guys. I dunno when I realized, but basically anytime I think about you guys like that, I start coughing. But it’s fine. I’m happy for you guys! Seriously! I am! It’s just my brain being dumb and jealous. A-and stupid. It’s so stupid. It’s just that whenever I see you two together I wish I was a part of that. And it’s so dumb, because of course you don’t see me like that. I mean, how could you? You guys are perfect for each other. And I shouldn’t feel this way, there’s no reason for you to feel the way I do, I mean, I get it, we kinda all drifted apart, you guys are closer to each other. It’s normal, it’s totally fine! It’s just me. I guess this is like, my punishment? Or a reminder, maybe? That you don’t feel the same. I mean, that’s what you wanted to say, right? You guys knew, clearly, I mean I was so obviously jealous, but it’s fine! I’m totally fine. It’s better this way, anyway. That way, when I die, I won’t have any attachments. A-and I can’t die! I know this can’t kill me, remember, or did I not mention that, I forget? Anyway, the Guardian said I’m gonna live to 91 so-” 

When Anne finally looks up the leaves die in her mangled throat. 

She can’t recall ever seeing Sasha and Marcy this scared, this horrified. Marcy’s entire body is trembling. Her hands cover her mouth, her shoulders hike up. Sasha looks like she’s going to be sick, with bulging eyes and a mouth wide open. In fact her whole body has gone slack. Sasha was more put together when Anne was actively dying in front of her. 

What did she say wrong? Wasn’t it all true? She didn’t lie, why are they looking at her like that?

“We were gonna ask you out.” Sasha says with all the grace of an elephant. 

“...Excuse me?” Anne almost laughs. Of course it’s a terrible thing, to laugh at a confession. But, like, this has to be a joke, right? They’re just saying this to make her feel better, right? “You don’t need to pretend for my sake, Sash.” She looks at Marcy. “Mars, back me up here. You don’t want your girlfriend saying that to someone else, right?” 

“Holy shit, is this Hanahaki?” 

“What?”

“Hanahaki disease. It’s a fictional disease caused by unrequited love.” Marcy’s still covering her mouth. “But that doesn’t make any sense, this isn’t unrequited…!” 

Did… Did Anne just hear her right? No, surely not. Not unrequited means requited, and there’s no way, she’s fine, she’s fine if they don’t-

Her thoughts finally cut off in a torrent of leaves. With each cough another one flies out like a leaf blower. Whether it’s a mercy or not is questionable. The O2 monitor shrieks. 

“Anne!” Sasha’s hand goes to her back, and Marcy clutches her hands. “Deep breaths, you’re ok, Annie.” Marcy’s words are sugar sweet. 

“I don’t get it,” Anne rasps. “Stop lying to me! Stop trying to make me feel better, please! Just tell me the truth!” A tear runs down her cheek, and then another. One for pain, one for sadness. 

“We are telling the truth!” Sasha yells. “The night we first talked, when we said we were dating, we-we were going to ask you out! And then the cabin trip, I mean, Frog, we planned it for Valentine’s Day, for you!” 

“I thought you were just trying to let me down easy!”

“On Valentine’s Day!?” 

“Anne.” Both women stop to look at Marcy. She stares them down. “Do you want the truth?”

Anne nods. 

“The truth,” Marcy continues, “Is that we have been madly in love with you for ages.” She wipes away the tears. “You’ve inspired us to be the best we can be, to be worthy of you. I thought about you every day in Massachusetts. Every time you left early we missed you. We wanted to make you happy. We want to make you happy. So please, let us.”

Anne can feel something give in her chest. The wall she spent so long building up, that hardened heart, so desperately trying to shield herself from rejection, finally caves. She wants to believe her so badly.

“I can’t,” she whispers, feather light. “I can’t…” 

“Anne,” Sasha’s voice softens. “Why is it so hard to believe you’re worthy of love?” 

She bursts into tears. 

“Oh,” Marcy coos. She brushes hair out of Anne’s face. “Oh, Annie…” Sasha pulls her into a hug from behind. Marcy holds her face between her hands. They sit there for hours, years, eternities, just holding her. Anne can’t remember the last time she’s cried this hard. All this time and energy spent suppressing herself, hiding how she felt, it's been exhausting. She's so tired of it. Can she let it go? Can she give this a chance? She wants to, more than anything. Why not try? 

She must look like a complete mess, snot and tears filling up the mask. Despite this, her girls never complain. They never judge. Sasha presses kisses onto her shoulders. Marcy keeps rubbing her thumb over Anne’s cheek. They’ll sit there forever; if they have to, they’ll wait for her forever. They’ve waited this long, after all. 

“I feel so dumb,” Anne finally mumbles. She sniffles. “I was so sure you guys were gonna reject me, and I didn’t wanna intrude on you…”

“Never,” Marcy promises. “You’re never intruding. We want you, anyway you’ll have us.”

“We’re so sorry, we should’ve said it sooner.” Sasha mumbles from her spot. “We should’ve noticed sooner.”

Anne shrugs. “I was trying to hide it.”

Sasha pauses. “The… this, or your feelings?” 

“Both.” 

“Please, don’t hide from us again,” Sasha begs. “Let us help you, ok? We love you. No matter what, we’ll be here for you.” 

Anne hesitates, just for a moment. It’s hard to open yourself up after so long. She was so sure this illness was because she couldn't fight her feelings off. Maybe... maybe it's because she fought. “Ok. Yeah.” At least she can try. She owes it to them, and herself. 

“So…” Marcy smiles. “Can we try again? For real this time. We can reschedule that cabin whenever.” 

Anne giggles. She can feel Sasha’s breath on her neck, Marcy’s rough palms against her cheeks. She never imagined she’d get to feel these. “That sounds nice.”

Marcy brightens up. She presses a kiss to Anne’s cheeks, her forehead, everywhere she can reach. Sasha grabs at her waist and nuzzles into the nape of her neck, and Anne laughs, a real laugh, the first one in a while. 

The small hospital room fills with joy, and the O2 monitor beeps. 

86. 89. 94. 100.