Archive of Our Own

It was a warm, muggy summer evening the day it ended. 

They'd been dating for six months already, six months of Anne being with the two loves of her life. She’d been the one to ask them there that evening; the worst part was they probably thought it was a date. 

It was like an infection, the way doubt began to creep into her heart, but for some inexplicable reason something about their relationship didn’t sit right with Anne. It wasn’t because of Sasha and Marcy, far from it, there was nothing she wanted more than to be with them. 

But whenever she tried to envision herself as their girlfriend—their Anne—something felt off. 

She finally brought it up to them after they’d already spent some time at the boardwalk. She still remembered their adoring faces, eyes aflame with love in the glow of sunset. The din of noise all around them had quieted and all Anne could hear was her own breathing. 

“I’m sorry, I…I don’t think I’m—I can’t—” The words struggled to leave her lips, even as she watched their faces drop, even as the sunset light faded from their eyes, she couldn’t find the words to make this any easier. She wanted to explain it to them, to give them reassurance that this wasn’t their fault. Instead all she could manage was a meek, “I’m sorry, it’s not you. It’s me.” 

Anne loved them. Loves them—even now she can’t deny her feelings. But breaking up with them was for the better. She couldn’t be the girlfriend they need if she feels so unsure about being theirs. That’s what she keeps telling herself. It’s just about the only thing that keeps Anne out of the depths of despair. 

Of course their friendship recovered, and now a year later things have returned to a level of normalcy between the three of them. Even still, every day Anne misses what they had and a lingering sadness has made a permanent place in her heart. But they still talk regularly, they still hang out, hell, Sasha and Marcy are still living together despite them deciding to break up too after she dumped them.  

They’ve settled into a new normal. 

Anne’s used to those. 

She can live with that.

That’s why, on just another Tuesday, as Anne sits in the breakroom of the aquarium, scrolling through her phone, when a picture of Sasha pops up on her feed, she doesn’t feel the sudden aching stab of sadness she would’ve felt a year ago. 

It’s more of a dull ache. 

Against her better judgement she fixates on the post. It’s a picture of Sasha at some psychology conference in San Francisco. It’s a candid photo she’s been tagged in, probably taken by someone she knows. In it Sasha’s sitting very close with a woman who seems to be hanging on his every word, her eyes half-lidded as she leans in. 

Anne notes how beautiful she is, looking neat and professional in her business casual attire, yet playful with the way even her small smile lights up her eyes. But that’s not what Anne’s attention keeps getting drawn towards. Instead her eyes keep drifting to the woman’s hair, brown and curly, tied into a tight ponytail. It sends an uncanny shiver up Anne’s spine, but before she can figure out why, her break is over and another group of kids are waiting for a tour of ‘Get Lost in Amphibia.’

She doesn’t figure it out until Sasha introduces them a week later.

She’s been invited to Sasha and Marcy’s shared apartment for dinner and drinks. Anne nearly says no. Honestly, she’s not too thrilled to meet Sasha’s new girlfriend; she can’t deny a small jealous flame for Sasha still burns inside her and the idea of seeing Sasha happy and loving with a new girl makes her gut twist. 

But she’s Sasha’s best friend first, ex-girlfriend second, so she works up the courage, taking a rideshare down to their apartment to cheer on Sasha’s new relationship. 

As she enters the lobby, trying to fool herself into thinking she’s struggling to remember their buzzer number, Anne is surprised to find Marcy waiting in the lobby for her. They let her in, giving her a small smile that doesn’t quite reach their eyes. 

“Hey Anne,” they say, still with all the warmth that Anne misses. 

“Hey!” Anne doesn’t mask her surprise. “Why aren’t you upstairs? I still remember your buzzer code.” 

She can’t help but check them out. They’ve dressed up pretty nicely for a dinner taking place in their own apartment, wearing a brand new button-up, a vest, and matching dress pants. They look really good—somewhere in the back of Anne’s mind she thinks that if they were still together she would’ve been all over them. 

“Maybe I just wanted to see my best friend at the door,” Marcy says, their eyes giving her a noticeable once-over in return. That stirs something in Anne, but she tamps it down. They’re friends. Just friends.

Anne tries to defuse the tension already building between them. “Well thank you for being so chivalrous,” she bows deeply and snickers, coaxing a genuine smile out of Marcy. 

“Well someone has to be while your knight is—” Marcy suddenly looks as if they’ve just been stabbed, their pupils narrowing to pin pricks as they stand straighter and stammer, “I mean, I— while Sasha’s busy with—” 

“It’s okay, dude,” Anne places a hand on their shoulder. She can't help but notice them beginning to melt into her touch as soon as she does. “I can handle Sasha having a new girlfriend.” 

“Cool!” Marcy laughs the moment off before turning and heading towards the elevator. “Well! Let’s go meet her, I mean not that I haven’t already met her but I mean I haven’t really gotten to know her yet so I’m hoping this night will make things a bit less awkward around the apartment…” 

Marcy continues to ramble as they get into the elevator, their hands waving about as they talk. It endears Anne to no end as they chatter about various theories of group cohesion from the social sciences. 

For a moment, in the privacy of the elevator, she feels that dull ache of yearning flare into something sharper. She feels an undeniable tug towards them and briefly gives in to it. 

She pulls Marcy in for a hug, and oh. It feels as if every fibre of her being wants to intertwine with them, the flame she holds for them glowing brighter as she fans it. Marcy clings to her, melting into her touch like ice to her flame. 

Anne pulls back just enough to see Marcy’s face. Their eyes are half-lidded, lips parted, and breaths shuddering in a way that begs Anne to kiss them. Their hands move to her waist and for a brief moment, the fire in her chest burns as bright as it did when they were together.

Then, just as quickly, she douses it again, remembering that she was the one that broke up with them. She remembers they’ve tried this before and something about it was wrong. 

Something about her was wrong. 

“That’s a new thought, filing that one away for later.” Anne thinks as she lets go of Marcy, pulling away and panting as she returns to reality.

A brief flash of disappointment crosses their face before they manage to hide it. The last embers of the moment fade as the elevator dings, signaling they’ve arrived at their floor. 

The apartment is a flurry of activity as soon as they open the door. The smell of something cooking and the aggressive sound of sizzling surround them. Sasha greets them at the door in a “kiss the cook’ apron, his hair a tousled mess that Anne can’t help but love. 

“Anne! You’re here! Babe, come meet Anne!” Sasha has the air of a puppy as she greets her, her smile like the sun as she beckons to her girlfriend in the kitchen. 

“Okay, but could you like, come watch these while I…”

“Oh! Yeah! Sorry!” 

“It’s fine.” 

Sasha darts back into the kitchen and a moment later his girlfriend comes out. 

She’s even more beautiful in person. Her skin has a sun-kissed tan that tints what would’ve otherwise been fairly pale skin. She’s about Anne’s height, maybe a bit taller, though with a slightly leaner build. What Anne notices most though, is her long, curly, luscious brown hair, falling past her shoulders now that it’s out of a ponytail, and framing her face in a way that looks eerily familiar.

“Danica,” she holds out her hand, waiting expectantly for Anne. 

Anne shakes it; the handshake feels simultaneously limp and stiff. When she looks up Danica’s piercing green eyes seem to be reading her mind. It’s at that moment Anne remembers she’s a psychology grad student. She can’t help but wonder if she’s being psychoanalyzed. 

Holding back her discomfort, Anne replies with as much friendliness as she can muster, “I guess you’ve already heard of me, but hey! I’m Anne.” 

Danica eyes her up and down; after a brief pause she seems to relax, her voice gaining some warmth as she says, “I’m so glad to finally meet you. Do you and Marcy want to relax while Sashy and I finish up?” 

Anne briefly looks to Marcy standing at her side, noticing their eye twitch at the usage of the ‘Sashy’ nickname. It had always been their nickname for him after all. 

“Mhm! Sure Danica!” Marcy says, giving her the best smile they can. Anne knows them well enough to tell it's obviously fake.

Danica rejoins Sasha in the kitchen, their affectionate banter filling the air. Marcy and Anne take their places in the living room, sitting on opposite sides of the couch from each other. Even from this distance Anne feels the pull towards them.  

“No, I swear this is really good if you make it this way,” Sasha says insistently from the kitchen, mercifully drawing Anne’s attention to something other than her yearning. 

“I dunno,” is Danica’s response to Sasha’s enthusiasm. 

“Come on babe, trust me.” 

The sounds of sizzling interspersed with whisking come from the kitchen. After a few minutes Sasha’s voice comes from the kitchen again. 

“Okay so try this.” Sasha sounds so proud and hopeful at that moment. Anne can’t help but wait with anticipation for her girlfriend’s reaction. No reaction comes, only Sasha sounding slightly crestfallen as he says, “You don’t like it?” 

“No, it’s fine.” 

“I’m sorry I got so pushy with the seasoning on this babe, I can remake it no problem.” Anne smiles softly to herself. Fixing his mistakes comes so naturally to Sasha now. There isn’t even a hint of self-loathing when he does it anymore. 

“It’s fine,” Danica reiterates in the same flat tone of voice. “I just won’t use the sauce with mine.” 

“Dani, I promise it’s no problem, I can remake this in like, two minutes.” 

“It’s fine.” A long pause filled only with the sounds of steam hissing from a pot fills the apartment. It’s only broken when Sasha’s girlfriend finally says, “It’s whatever, let’s just have dinner.” 

“O–Okay,” Sasha stutters out. Anne can practically see the way he tries to put on the same happy, excited face he showed them at the door. 

She can’t quite place it but something about the interaction leaves a bitter taste in Anne’s mouth. Anne raises an eyebrow, looking to Marcy as if they’ll have an answer. Marcy grimaces in response and shrugs. Part of her wants to move to their side, to whisper conspiratorially into their ear about what just happened, but before she knows it Sasha and her girlfriend come parading into the living room, plates of food in hand, all smiles and warm eyes. 

“Dinner’s ready!” Danica says with a wide—almost too wide—smile, before adding, “Made just the way Sasha likes.”

It was a lovely night with Marcy, Sasha, and her new girlfriend—Danica. She has a name, Anne reminds herself. Even still, Anne couldn’t shake the feeling the whole time that something about the night felt weird. Maybe it was the small fight between Sasha and her new girlfriend. Maybe it was that brief moment of intimacy Anne and Marcy had in the elevator. Maybe she was just kind of drunk and not over her exes. Whatever it was, when they offered her the couch for the night, Anne turned it down. 

She needs some time alone to figure out her feelings. 

As she sits in her dark living room, a little bit tipsy after her night out, she’s more than a little frustrated that once again her feelings are getting twisted up and she doesn’t know why. 

“It’s this bullshit that made the breakup between me, Sasha, and Marcy happen.” The thought crosses Anne’s mind and then finally, it clicks. 

“Oh my god,” Anne says aloud, to no one in particular, “doesn’t she look…a lot like me?”

The realization breaks her heart. When Anne broke up with them she knew they’d eventually find other people—people who would feel right being by their sides. But to see the lengths Sasha’s gone to find Anne in another girl, it’s an ache she never expected to feel.

Yet, the realization also washes over her with a strange, serene feeling, and guiltily, she realizes that this has made her happier than she has been in an entire year. Some deep, self-centered part of Anne’s heart leaps for a moment at the idea of Sasha still wanting her that badly. She tries to tamp it down. After all they’ve already tried it once, and for a reason that still escapes her, something about her dating Sasha and Marcy felt wrong. 

Anne groans in frustration. She used to be the one who was good at feelings. Now here she is sitting in her living room, a maelstrom of emotion swirling through her mind with nowhere to go. She wants to talk to someone about this, but who? 

Pulling out her phone, she scrolls through every DM, every contact, every single person she’s even vaguely familiar with. But where would she even start with all this? Just about the only person who wouldn’t need an entire decade’s worth of context would be Marcy. 

And she sure as hell isn’t about to dump her relationship woes on them. 

Anne’s head begins to spin as the alcohol takes its toll. Resigning herself to deal with all of this later she sighs and begins to get ready for bed. 

Just like Sasha, it was only a matter of time before Marcy found someone new too. 

A few months after Sasha introduced them to Danica, Sasha, Anne, and Marcy have one of their customary ‘girls’ nights’ (called that by tradition only, considering only one of them is still a full-time girl). Anne treasures them, grateful that they can still do things like this together despite everything that’s happened between them. As they laugh together, watch shitty movies, and gossip about their lives, Anne can almost pretend her longing for the two of them doesn’t exist.  

Except today the energy is decidedly lower. Anne eyes Sasha especially; he seems more sombre and reserved than usual. There’s no lack of warmth in his interactions with them, far from it, every time he looks at Anne or Marcy there’s a quiet love in his eyes that Anne pretends doesn’t make her heart leap.  

Marcy seems a bit cagey tonight too. They’re weirdly still, a far cry from their usual perpetual fidgeting. They keep darting their eyes between Anne and Sasha, almost as if they’re calculating something. They’re hiding something, Anne’s used to their habits by now, and she guesses they’re waiting for a chance to come clean. 

“Did you two have a fight or something?” Anne opens up the discussion, hoping it isn’t the case but giving them the chance to open up.

“What? No.” Sasha seems taken aback by the question. “I mean…not that I know but Marcy and I tell each other everything so…”

“Well…not everything…” 

“Marcy?” Sasha looks genuinely devastated, curling in on herself and looking at Marcy with watery eyes. “Did I do something wrong?” 

For a moment, instead of the Sasha she knows, Anne sees the nervous, tentative, overthinking Sasha from their Resistance days. However, the thought gets completely overshadowed by what Marcy says next.

“No! No, it’s just that until now there hasn’t been much to actually tell you about but I may be kinda, sorta, uh…seeing someone now?”

“Woah…I’m–I’m so happy for you!” Tangible relief fills Sasha’s body but it’s quickly replaced by a different kind of tension. His smile looks forced, his voice strained. Anne knows Sasha’s jealousy when she sees it.

“When did this happen!?” Anne follows up, hoping she’s masking her own jealousy better.

“Not too long ago! We’ve been kinda talking for a bit and we just decided to officially start dating like, yesterday,” Marcy gushes, their hands moving about in that signature Marcy way. “Her name’s Amanda! She’s actually a park ranger.” 

“No way! Any pics?” Anne leans in, followed begrudgingly by a morbidly curious Sasha.

“Just a few, here.” 

Marcy pulls out her phone, finding her new girlfriend’s profile and steadily swiping through her photos. Most are pictures of her in her park ranger uniform, hair tied up and under a hat. She’s cute, her tan skin dotted with freckles and a smile that seems to make the photos brighter.  

“We met while I was out in one of the parks doing some sketching and uh, fell into some bushes when I wasn’t paying attention,” Marcy says, giggling and blushing at the memory. “She helped pull me out, made sure I was okay.” 

Marcy’s story makes something twinge inside Anne with an eerie, uncanny feeling. She knows exactly why when Marcy swipes through to the next picture. Though she’s still in her uniform, in this photo Amanda has her hair out—soft, dark brown curls spill over her shoulders. She's undeniably gorgeous, but the resemblance to herself is so uncanny and Anne can’t help the wince that flashes across her face. 

Luckily Marcy doesn’t see it, too entranced with regaling stories about how they and their girlfriend got together. 

Somehow she manages to hold it together for the rest of the night while reeling from the fact that another one of her exes is dating a girl who looks suspiciously like her.

The first time they meet Marcy’s new girlfriend is when Marcy invites them all to go out with them. 

Marcy’s body practically vibrates with excitement as they lead them to one of their favourite haunts. Tucked into a nook in an unassuming building just a few minutes away from Sasha and Marcy’s apartment, a sign reading “Fireball Arcade Bar” is the only sign that the place exists. 

As Marcy leads them down a darkened staircase, arm in arm with their new girlfriend, Amanda, they look back as they talk excitedly. “Woo! Thanks for agreeing to come here guys, can you believe they actually do things like this now? Now I can do all the gaming I want, while getting drunk, and not upsetting all the kids when I beat their high scores!”  

In classic Marcy fashion, they begin trying to walk down the stairs backwards to talk to Anne and Sasha and lose their footing. Luckily their girlfriend catches them, her arm already interlinked with theirs she pulls Marcy up with a graceful tug. Marcy is all bashful giggles and blushes as they cling to Amanda’s arm, unsubtly holding tightly onto her impressive bicep.

“Marcy!” Amanda shrieks as she rights them. 

“Whoops! Haha, classic Marcy move.” 

“Please watch where you’re going.” She wraps an arm around Marcy’s waist, pulling them against her. “Where would you be without me, Mar-mar?” 

Anne immediately looks to Marcy as soon as she hears this, noticing Sasha visibly doing the same. They both see the brief flash of irritation on Marcy’s face as they reply, “Well, I mean I made it this far, didn’t I?” 

Anne watches Amanda roll her eyes before affectionately ruffling Marcy’s hair. They laugh, though it doesn’t seem to come easily to them. As they continue down the stairs Marcy tries to talk to Anne and Sasha again, though some of the wind seems to be gone from their sails. “So yeah, tons of the uh, the old games we used to play back when we were kids are here.” 

“Oh!,” Anne tries to cheer Marcy up a bit, thinking back to the numerous games from the arcade of their childhood. “Even that super rare, unbeatable one that you managed to break?” 

“Rouge Rogue’s Descent!? Yeah!” Marcy perks up as they reach the bottom of the stairs, the darkened room lit up only by arcade cabinets. They turn to their girlfriend and beam. “Did you know you can technically break the game by getting to level 256, since the coding breaks past that point?” 

“Oh?” Amanda responds half-heartedly. She looks around the room, walking towards a vacant table before continuing, “That’s…cool.” 

“Yeah, oh my god,” Sasha interjects, giving Marcy a light punch to the shoulder as they all sit down. His eyes are filled with an undying affection as he looks at them. “This nerd literally spent like, 8 hours straight to get there. I actually had to feed them while they did it.” 

“That’s…concerning?”  

“Oh, don’t worry! I’m not gonna do anything like that tonight, I just wanna show you the stuff I’m into!” Marcy turns to Anne and Sasha, their eyes wide and shining with the light of the arcade cabinets. “I’m gonna get Amanda to try out some games she might like. Wanna meet back here in like, half an hour?”  

The excitement in Marcy’s eyes dampens some of the jealousy Anne feels at that moment. The genuine delight they have in sharing their interests makes her wonder how she could’ve ever showed such blatant disregard for them. 

Anne turns to Sasha; she sees that same jealousy on his face interwoven with adoration for Marcy that she feels. Anne finds solace in the fact that even Sasha, with his gorgeous new girlfriend, hasn’t gotten over their Marcy.

“Sure Mar-mar,” Sasha says, her voice radiating affection. 

Anne nods in agreement. “We’ll get some drinks and wander around too.” 

In a flash, Marcy drags Amanda out of her seat, their rambles getting lost amidst the sounds of arcade cabinets. 

Looking back at Sasha, Anne can’t help the sly smirk on her face as she sees her watching Marcy go like a lovesick puppy. “You have a girlfriend, you know.” 

“Yeah…” Sasha doesn’t match her energy, his face falling as he gets up to head towards the bar. “I know.”

“Where is she anyway?” Anne asks, worried by Sasha’s sudden drop in mood. “Are you two okay?” 

“Yeah! Yeah, things are cool,” Sasha says, trying to sound casual. “She just couldn’t make it tonight, that’s all.” 

Anne nods, dropping the subject. They’ve ordered their drinks and headed back to the table before Sasha breaks the silence between them. 

“They’re so goddamn cute when they get like this.” 

“They are. Did you see the way their eyes lit up when we first got down here?” Anne sighs, her eyes scanning the room in hopes she’ll catch a glimpse of Marcy. “You’re…still not over them either, huh?” 

“Are you kidding? Of course not,” Sasha laments as he takes a sip of his drink. 

While she doesn’t want to bring up his girlfriend again, Anne gives Sasha a look.

“It’s not like I can just turn off my feelings,” Sasha says in response as he shrugs. “It’s not like I’ll ever act on them. Besides, it just wouldn’t feel right without…sorry.” 

Sasha looks at Anne sheepishly, his eyes asking if he’s crossed a line. Anne gives him a small, mournful smile. “It’s alright, Sash. You don’t have to apologize for me dumping you.”  

They fall into another beat of silence, sipping their drinks and trying not to make eye contact, when suddenly, something catches Sasha’s eye.

“Wait, hold on a sec,” Sasha gasps, getting up and craning her neck to look over Anne’s shoulder. “They have Super Dance Fusion!?” 

“They do?” 

“Yeah!” A bit of the old Sasha confidence shines on his face as he smirks and holds out his hand. “Still remember our old routine?” 

“You bet I do.” Anne takes his hand. It’s a mistake she immediately regrets as the red-hot reminder of how much she misses him jolts through her body.  

The feeling lingers, even as her feet hit the dance pad, her head foggy and light, her limbs sluggish and heavy. She’s barely had a sip of her drink and yet she’s in a haze. The lights of the game, the sweat beginning to bead on her brow, and the way Sasha moves, his jacket discarded, his muscular arms on full display—it’s all too much and yet not enough. 

She wants him, he wants her, and yet, why can’t she have him? The question haunts her, the infection eating away at her heart. She trips over her own feet and suddenly— 

The song is over. Sasha is standing over her, panting, a wider smile than she’s seen her wear in weeks spreading across her face. 

“Not bad, Boonchuy,” Sasha says smugly as she offers her a hand, “but still not as good as the best.” 

Anne can’t help but laugh as she stands. The relief and the giddy rush of release just being at ease with Sasha again makes her feel light. 

“I guess I’m not the dancer I used to be,” Anne laughs. It’s meant to be a lighthearted comment on her abysmal score, but as the words leave her lips, she feels a shiver run down her spine. Suddenly the room is heavy, the world is heavy. 

“I’m not the girl I used to be.”  

The thought flashes through her mind, white-hot and electric, cascading through her body and freezing her in place. She tries to file the thought away, to save it for another time, another place, specifically while she's not in front of Sasha. 

But before she can put that mask up she can tell it’s too late.  

“Anne? Are you okay?” Sasha’s face drops and suddenly he’s on his knees in front of her. He looks at Anne with that beautiful worried face, his eyes aflame with love, and she can’t stand it. 

She can’t have him, she can’t have either of them, and she won’t have them.

They were never hers to love in the first place. 

“I’m okay!” She says, trying to brush Sasha’s worry away. 

She fails. 

“Are you sure?” Sasha wraps her up in her arms and Anne’s guilty mind screams in protest.

But Sasha’s arms are around her and he’s sturdy and safe and warm, and she wants nothing more than to let herself be consumed by the fire in his eyes. And so, for a brief, selfish moment, she does, because even if she’s not his Anne, he’s her Sasha. 

She melts into him and clings and grieves the love she was never meant to have, enjoying every selfish second that she gets Sasha all to herself. It’s wrong, she’s wrong, and she hates it. She loves it.

Before too long she knows she’s let this stolen moment linger past its time and reality needs to come flooding back to smother it.

“You have a girlfriend, remember?” Anne whispers mournfully. She hates the way she feels Sasha tense in her arms.

Sasha reluctantly lets go. She looks bashful, almost ashamed. “I wasn’t—that wasn’t what—you’re right.”

He takes a step back and sighs. When he looks at Anne though, the lines of concern still cover her friend’s face. “You sure you’re alright?” 

“I’m sure,” Anne assures, her mask firmly attached. “Let’s go find Marcy.”  

They search for Marcy in silence, the moment fading into the background, lost amidst the din of arcade cabinets around them. It doesn’t take long for them to find them—they can hear their rambling before long.  

What they see first, however, is Marcy’s girlfriend, standing to the side as their friend focuses on a cabinet. She’s on her phone, seemingly oblivious to every word coming from Marcy’s mouth. As Anne and Sasha approach she takes notice of them, shrinking before the deathly glare they both give her for ignoring Marcy. 

“Hey Mars!” Sasha’s voice pierces through the background noise, full of genuine delight at finding Marcy. “Whatcha playing?” 

“Oh! Sash! Anne! Did you wanna watch too? I was just telling Amanda about the cheat codes you can use in this game since they were never removed…” Marcy continues their infodump with Anne and Sasha leaning in and listening intently. 

Anne looks over her shoulder briefly and notices Marcy’s girlfriend has finally put her phone away. She hopes she’s actually listening this time. 

Anne’s head is still spinning when she gets dropped off at her apartment. The drinks, the lights, and the proximity to Sasha and Marcy getting the better of her before the night is through. Stumbling through her apartment and not bothering with the lights, Anne finds her way to the bathroom in the dark. 

She closes her eyes, turns on the light, and splashes her face with water.; the first thing she sees when she opens her eyes again is her reflection staring back at her in the mirror. Gripping the bathroom sink, she stares and stares and stares into the mirror, willing for the girl she sees to be Anne Boonchuy. 

The Anne raised by her parents. 

The Anne who got stranded in Amphibia. 

The Anne who grew and changed and became better. 

The Anne who Sasha and Marcy loved.  

The Anne who died. 

She shares her name, she shares her face, she shares her memories. 

But Anne isn’t her, she can never be her. As much as she tries, as much as she wants it to be true, she can’t harmonize that Anne and the Anne who stares back at her in the mirror. That Anne died in Amphibia, replaced by her, the copy. The imposter.

It’s a bitter victory, but at least she finally understands why dating Sasha and Marcy felt so wrong. 

It was her, it was always her. 

And as much as the jealous part of her hates to admit it, she’s just like Danica and Amanda; she’s just another attempt for two lonely hearts to find the girl from their memories. 

She just happens to be the best imitation they’ve found yet. 

It’s an average Friday. Anne has just come home from work, spending the day finding some solace in the fulfillment in what she does. Amphibia will always be just as much hers, after all it’s where the old Anne ended and she began. 

She’s just about to settle down, relax before dinner, maybe watch some Suspicion Island to turn her mind off, when her phone buzzes in a flurry of notifications. She can practically feel the urgency of it as she unlocks her phone; her anxiety spikes, something is wrong. 

She finds her, Sasha, and Marcy’s group chat alive with activity, mostly messages from Marcy asking a million questions a minute. At the top of the conversation is a single message from Sasha: Emergency girls’ night, I need to talk to you guys. 

Even more alarm bells go off in Anne’s head. Sasha was supposed to be staying at his girlfriend’s place for the weekend. For him to be calling for an emergency girls’ night… 

Anne quiets the selfish, hopeful part of her. She needs to be there for him as his best friend. She lets them both know they can meet at her place as soon as possible and readies herself for whatever problems may come through her apartment door. 

An hour later they arrive, and the problems are so much worse than she imagined. 

Marcy’s voice carries through the door from the hallway, stressed and high pitched, Anne doesn’t even have to wait for them to knock. She opens the door just as they’re about to arrive and the shock from what she sees makes her gasp. 

Sasha is holding an ice pack to her eye, but even still Anne can see the bruising across the left side of her face. An angry red that promises to fade to a bitter black and blue, Anne’s first thought is, "Who did this to her?” 

Marcy hovers beside Sasha, worrying their lip as they look at him with a combination of guilt and concern. As soon as they see Anne looking at them from her doorway they wave and call out, “He said he wouldn’t say what happened until we were all together.” 

“Come in, quick,” is all Anne can say past the shock. 

As Sasha passes through her door their eyes meet. He gives her a quick smile, his eyes already apologizing for him. “Sorry to dump this on you all of the sudden.” 

This jolts Anne out of ogling at her bruise. “Sasha, there’s no need to apologize.” 

She ushers them inside, leading them both to the couch. “I figured you guys might not have had dinner yet so I got us some pizza.” 

“Thanks,” Sasha mumbles, her voice sounding slightly dazed. “I’m starving.” 

Marcy’s already popped into the kitchen to grab them plates; offering one to Anne they give her a quick nod before refocusing on Sasha. 

As Sasha puts down the ice pack to eat, the full extent of her injuries are on full display. Her eye is swollen shut, blazing an even more vibrant red than the bruise on her cheek. The bruising is extensive—it looks painful, and yet Sasha chews on her pizza dispassionately, only the occasional wince of pain happening when she stretches her face too far. 

“Okay Sash.” Marcy sits at his left, positioning themselves like a shield against whatever had hurt him. They wrap their arms around his waist, unapologetic in how close they hold him, how fiercely they guard him. “What happened?” 

Anne takes a seat at Sasha’s other side. She hesitates to hold Sasha the way Marcy does for just a moment. She chastises herself immediately—whatever existential baggage she has right now shouldn’t get in the way of supporting her friend. 

Anne wraps her arms around Sasha’s waist and she knows she’s made the right choice as she feels her melt into her. “Whatever happened, we’re here for you, Sasha.”

“I–” Sasha takes a deep shuddering breath, tears beginning to form in his eyes. Anne and Marcy hold him tighter, giving him the courage to continue. “Danica and I, we got into a fight. We were talking about, uh, well…she wanted me to move out from our apartment, Marcy.” 

“What the fuck?” Marcy can’t help but interject. 

Sasha nods solemnly. “I think she’s jealous about me living with you. I told her no, obviously, and—and when I did she slapped me.”  

“What the fuck?” Marcy says again, their voice aflame with anger.

Anne’s breath hitches when she hears this, her heart breaking in ways she didn’t know it could. She feels Marcy’s anger mirrored inside her. She holds Sasha tighter as he continues. 

“She started yelling at me about how she always lets me get my way and how I’ve been walking all over her and how she’s tired of it and she’s decided to finally stand up to me and—” Sasha begins to cry, her hands shaking as she closes her eyes. “—and when I tried to ask what she was talking about she slapped me again. Then she punched me in the eye and asked why I wasn’t fighting back.” 

Anne shudders at Sasha’s story. Danica’s actions were sickening enough, but on top of that, she hates how Danica’s words sound like a twisted version of what she said at top of Toad Tower. But Anne knows Sasha. She knows the person she’s grown to be, and the person her girlfriend sees sounds nothing like her. “That makes no sense, how could she think you’re treating her like that?” 

“We—we butted heads a lot. I thought that was the kinda relationship we had, y’know? I swear, whenever she’d get actually upset I always tried to fix things! But she’d always assure me it was fine.” 

Marcy and Anne lock eyes for a moment as the same memory from the first night they met Danica flashes through their minds. 

Sasha continues talking through the tears. “What if she’s right? Am I just being a control freak again? Did I deserve it?” 

“Sasha,” Marcy whispers, grabbing a box of tissues from the table before gently caressing the bruised half of his face. “I don’t give a shit about what you did or didn’t do. Either way, you would never deserve this.”  

“Besides,” Anne says, her voice firm in its resolve, “She’s wrong. You said so yourself, you’ve tried to make it right every time you’ve messed up, right?” 

“Mhm.” Sasha murmurs, wiping her nose as her tears continue to fall. 

Anne ponders Danica’s reasoning, how she could’ve come to a conclusion that would drive her to this. What she pieces together seems uncomfortably familiar.

“I think…that Danica is too used to being passive. She’s too used to avoiding conflict so she doesn’t rock the boat, but when she lets that happen for too long she gets resentful, and that builds until…” Anne places a gentle finger under Sasha’s chin, tilting his head towards her. With an even gentler hand she caresses his face. “...until she blows up.” 

“Your girlfriend’s an asshole,” Marcy’s voice cuts through the moment. “Holy shit Sasha, if I’d known…I mean we live together I should’ve…”

In a rare loss for words, Marcy simply holds Sasha tightly, fiercely clinging to her and whispering, “I’m sorry.” 

Anne moves her hands away from Sasha’s face, joining Marcy in hugging Sasha protectively. She can feel him shaking. It’s gentle, but it’s enough to make Anne swear she’ll never let anything like this happen to him again. Eventually, Sasha’s body stills and he relaxes into their arms, the steady stream of tears slowing.

“Fucking hell, do I know how to pick ‘em,” Sasha mutters. 

“Stop blaming yourself,” Anne gently says. “It’s not your fault your girlfriend turned out to be awful.” 

Sasha deflects in classic fashion, trying to get the spotlight off his own pain. “I hope yours treats you better, Mar-mar,” 

“Well…” 

“Who do I have to kill?” Sasha’s demeanour changes in an instant, suddenly ready to confront whoever would dare hurt them.

Marcy can’t help but laugh, looking at Sasha with sad, but adoring eyes. “That was a quick mood change. It’s nothing as bad as your girlfriend Sash, it’s just that…” 

They pause for a moment, looking for the right words. 

“She treats me like she has to constantly watch out for me. Like I get that she’s used to people being stupid out in parks and stuff, and I get that I’m clumsy but…she acts like I’m kind of incapable. She never lets me cook for her, she’s constantly telling me to update her on where I am. It feels like I’m being smothered sometimes.” 

Marcy fiddles with a tissue and sighs. “Plus she also doesn’t really care about my interests. Which isn’t such a big deal compared to the other stuff but. It hurts. I guess it’s fine–” 

“No, that’s not fine!” Anne surprises even herself with her outburst, but a fire has been lit inside her. “Marcy, you deserve better than that! You deserve someone who at least tries to take interest in you!” 

Anne gets up, kneeling in front of both of them as she lets her righteous anger fill her more. “And Sasha, you deserve so much better than your girlfriend! The way she treats you is awful. You deserve someone who sees the way you try to be better, who recognizes it. Someone whose first instinct isn’t to hurt you when she’s mad.” 

“Someone like me.” The thought repeats in her head, over and over, and for the first time, Anne is inclined to agree. 

“You both deserve so much better and I—I hope you find that someday.” 

“You’re right!” Marcy declares, standing up with their phone in hand. “Fuck this, I deserve better. I don’t care how hot she is. Anne, can I use your kitchen? I’m gonna dump my girlfriend.” 

“Go for it, dude!” Anne gives Marcy a thumbs up as they march away. 

“I…” Sasha shows more hesitance. “I’m not the monster she thinks I am, right?” 

“You’re not,” Anne reassures him, taking his hands in hers. 

“Can I use your bedroom?” Sasha asks with a small, shy smile. “I’m gonna break up with my girlfriend too.” 

As Sasha goes to her bedroom, Anne sinks into the couch, her mind reeling with everything she’s just learned. She can hear both muffled conversations from where she is and from what it sounds like, the now ex-girlfriends aren’t taking it well. 

Finally alone with her thoughts, her mind sinks back into the familiar pattern it’s been stuck in since she figured out why dating Sasha and Marcy felt wrong. She finds some small comfort in the fact that, out of all the Anne replacements, she’s still the only one who’s on good terms with Sasha and Marcy. 

Except. 

Something in the thought doesn’t quite ring true. 

Danica, a woman who has never grown past her passivity, who lets her resentment fester and rot instead of actually standing up for herself.  

Amanda, a woman who feels it’s her burden to watch out for people, to the point of coddling Marcy, all while completely ignoring their interests. 

It’s not the first time Anne feels that shudder of recognition in these two, but it’s the first time she realizes just how much they are like her, or rather, how she used to be. 

Lessons from Amphibia learned decades ago, so intertwined with who she is that they feel practically etched in her bones, come to the forefront of her mind. These lessons, her lessons, define who she is today. 

And in these two girlfriends, Anne sees just who she could have become. 

For the first time in a long time, Anne can see it; that unbroken link between her and that kind of shitty teenage girl who was spirited away to another world. That girl who made a thousand mistakes, learned, and grew from them. That same girl who’s made a million more mistakes since, to grow and change into who she is today.  

She’s still rolling this thought around in her head when Sasha and Marcy return from their respective breakups. Opening up her arms, she invites them onto the couch and they gladly fall into their spots at her side. 

They stay like that until, comfortable in Anne’s arms and already exhausted from the emotional toll of the day, Sasha and Marcy fall asleep. 

Anne, however, remains wide awake. Alone with her thoughts but nestled between the two loves of her life, she feels her mind racing with this new challenge to her existential dread. And yet, despite it all, she feels a strange peace washing over her, as if she’s been trapped in a labyrinth and has finally found the exit. 

Quietly, gently, she slips out from between Sasha and Marcy, letting them rest against each other as she gets up, heading to the bathroom. 

When she gets there, she stands in front of her bathroom sink and stares at the girl in the mirror.  

She sees someone beautiful, with tan skin and curly brown hair and a wide, if tentative, smile. 

She sees someone who learned hard lessons in another world all those years ago. 

She sees someone who grew and changed to become the person she sees today. 

She sees someone who can love Sasha and Marcy the way they deserve to be loved. 

She looks in the mirror, and finally, after years of doubt, she begins to see Anne Boonchuy. 

Anne wakes up first, finding herself in the tangled mess of limbs from the three of them trying to fit onto the couch to sleep. Despite the mess, it’s comfortable, and Anne realizes she never wants this moment to end—to be cuddled up like this on the couch with them feels so right. 

The sound of her phone angrily buzzing on the table disturbs her from her peaceful morning. It’s insistent, and she doesn’t want to disturb Sasha and Marcy’s sleep, so as carefully as she can, she untangles herself. 

The number calling her is the one for the apartment’s door buzzer. She knows better than to press the button to let whoever it is in. Instead, she puts on some slippers, and heads down to the apartment’s lobby. 

She has a feeling she knows who’s about to meet her, and Sasha and Marcy will never have to deal with them again, if she has anything to say about it. Sure enough, Danica and Amanda wait impatiently for her in the locked foyer of the apartment. 

It’s still early, and with some smug satisfaction, Anne notices they look far worse for wear than the two sleeping soundly in her apartment. Amanda waits at the door, glaring at Anne as soon as she sees her come out of the elevator. Danica stands behind her, looking as if she’d rather be anywhere else but here. 

The first thing she says when she sees those two dark mirrors of herself is, “How the fuck did you get my address?” 

“Danica went through Sasha’s phone to find it a while ago,” Amanda says casually, as if it doesn’t incriminate Danica in Anne’s eyes even more. Behind her, Sasha’s now ex seems to agree, looking at Amanda with a look of betrayal. 

Amanda doesn’t notice. She steps forward, leading the charge. “How dare you? They both spend one night here and suddenly we’re getting dumped?” 

“They can do whatever they want. I’m still their best friend and they have every right to see whoever they want to see.” Anne scoffs, crossing her arms as she continues blocking the door.

“What did you say to them?” Amanda shoots back, clearly not satisfied with Anne’s answer. 

“I have a better question.” Anne turns to Danica, letting the venom concentrate in her words as she spits, “What did you do to Sasha?” 

Danica refuses to meet her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh really, then explain to me why he came to my door with half his face black and blue?” 

Danica’s silence is deafening. Even her apparent ally stares at her with trepidation and shock. 

“And you!” Anne turns her ire towards Amanda, “Marcy is a fully capable adult, you don’t need to coddle them like some sort of child!” 

“They said themselves, they’re clumsy…”

“They are! And guess what! They know how to work around it! Not to mention how you don’t give a shit about their interests.” 

“They’re not really that intere—” 

“You’re wrong,” Anne interrupts her, her fists clenched and teeth gritting. “Even when I don’t understand what they’re into, I make a fucking effort. And you know what? It’s worth it to see how they light up when they talk about something they love!” 

“And back to you.” Even Anne is surprised by how vicious she sounds as she turns her attention back to the woman who dared to hurt her Sasha. “You think being quiet and resentful is better than actually dealing with your issues!? Do you think it justifies hurting whoever you want?” 

“Let’s just go, this is pointless,” is all Danica has to say. 

Amanda looks at her with some suspicion but turns her back anyway.

“Dating those two was pointless,” Amanda scoffs as they begin to leave, “After all how could we ever compete with The Anne Boonchuy.” 

“Actually yeah, how did you ever think you could compete?” Anne nearly laughs, making them both pause. Anne feels a sudden wave of confidence course through her; being faced with these two in person emphasizing just how far she’s come. “I learned to be a better person than both of you combined at thirteen.”  

They both look at her, mouths agape, clearly not expecting her response. 

With a triumphant stance, Anne squares up and declares, “So yeah, I am Anne Boonchuy, and I could be a better girlfriend to those two any day! Now get the fuck out and never talk to me or my girlfriends again!” 

Danica and Amanda look at each other and mouth, “What the fuck,” as they leave. Anne hopes she’ll never see those two again, but if it’s for Sasha and Marcy, she’ll face them down again gladly. 

It’s only when she gets to her apartment door that she realizes she called Sasha and Marcy her girlfriends in the heat of the moment. 

Heat rising in her cheeks, she covers her face and groans. She really hopes she’ll never run into them again. Still, she can’t help but let the old ember of love for Sasha and Marcy reignite in her heart. 

She really would like for them to be her girlfriends again.

It’s a hot, dry, summer day when it begins again. 

They’ve all been single for a while, and after too long yearning for each other, Anne finally decides she needs to act. Every silent glance, every quiet moment, and every lingering touch are driving her up the wall. She can only imagine what it must be like for Sasha and Marcy living together. 

She treats them to ice cream on the boardwalk—there’s an air of anticipation between them. The way this outing mirrors that awful evening almost two years ago isn’t lost on any of them. She wants to wait until sunset, but halfway through a walk on the beach Anne finally can’t hold it in anymore. 

“I finally figured it out, by the way,” Anne leads with, enigmatically. 

“Figured out what, Anne? Why Marcy’s so god damned cute? Like holy shit.” Sasha proceeds to pick Marcy up and twirl them around, the culmination of the very blatant flirting the two of them have been doing since they hit the beach. 

Anne laughs at the display. It only cements for her the importance of what she’s about to do. “I figured out why I needed to break up with you, y’know, back then.” 

That gets their attention. Sasha nearly drops Marcy in their mad scramble to direct all their focus on her, their eyes boring holes into her as they wait for her to continue with bated breath. 

“For a long time, I didn’t realize it but I felt like I wasn’t…I wasn’t your Anne, ever since I died.” 

“What? But you are!?” Sasha is just about ready to pounce, to comfort whatever pain this new revelation may unearth.

“I think I get it.” Marcy nods solemnly. Sasha and Anne turn their attention to them. They fiddle with their hair in response. “Dying and coming back can really fuck up your sense of self.” 

Anne gives Marcy an appreciative nod, their understanding unexpected but welcome. “I guess the Guardian telling me they’d copied me just before I died made me think I was some sort of imposter. So when I was dating you two it felt…wrong.” 

“But you know you’re our Anne, right?” Sasha asks with growing concern on her face. 

Anne nods and gives him a warm smile that devolves into an awkward grimace. “So, do you remember your shitty exes who, uh, kind of looked a lot like me…” 

Sasha covers her face and groans in embarrassment. “Yeah, I, uh, realized the first time she wore her hair down.” 

“Yeah, the whole ‘saving me from a bush’ thing made me feel so nostalgic I couldn’t help but go for mine," Marcy says completely unashamed. “What?! I can admit it, I’m still into you, Anne.”  

“They were so shitty they made me remember all the lessons I learned in Amphibia and reminded me why I am the way I am now. Honestly it really helped knock the existential dread out of my system.” Anne chuckles and rubs the back of her head. “Well, most of it anyway. So I guess what I’m trying to say is…” 

Sasha and Marcy look at her with wide, hopeful eyes. She can practically see the fire reigniting in them as they wait for her next words. Anne doesn’t leave them waiting a second longer. “I think…no. I am ready to try again. Will you guys give me a second chance—” 

She barely has enough time to finish her sentence before she’s tackled into the sand by the combined force of both her best friends. 

“Yes! Yes!!” Sasha’s screams, looking near tears. He buries his face in her neck, not caring that he’s getting sand in his hair 

“Of course we’ll give you a second chance!! Yes!” Marcy says before losing themselves in a fit of giggles. 

They quickly descend into a tidal wave of affection. Marcy kisses Anne, then they both kiss Sasha, and before long they lose track of who’s kissing who as they make up for lost time. The sun is setting by the time they finally slow down, simply lying on the beach, finally together again. 

As Anne lies in the sand, pinned there by her two no-longer-ex-girlfriends, she sighs contentedly. 

This feels right.