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It wasn't that Neon had gone out of her way to steal her girlfriend's shirt.
Sure, she'd thought about it. It was romantic to share clothes, wasn't it? The books she liked certainly seemed to think so.
Unfortunately, Fade was not loudly romantic. She was heavily private and preferred their relationship to be kept firmly under lock and key, shielded from anyone but them.
Neon didn't think most of Fade's clothes would even fit her. She was taller than her, with broader shoulders, but the rest of her was noodly and long. From the sight of her clothes, Neon suspected they'd be too tight around the chest and body, with sleeves that were much too long.
She was wistful about the idea, but she'd long since figured it just wouldn't happen.
That was, at least, until today.
It was laundry day. Neon was in her very last shirt, crinkled and faded with age, and the rest of her clothes were churning in one of the massive washing machines in the communal wetroom. This shirt was musty and old, with the fabric pilled and greying, but it had been a gift from her Lola, so she'd keep wearing it until it fell apart.
That affection, borne from grief and too many memories, was probably why she felt so urgently that she needed to take care of it. She only wore it on laundry day, when she had no other choice, and she washed it gingerly by hand, too frightened of it being damaged in the washing machine.
She was making kare-kare for lunch.
It was a cold day, and she was craving something warm and thick. She'd found peanut butter, bok choy, and oxtail in the pantry when she'd gone hunting for what she could make, and her mind had been made up before she'd even checked to see if she had the rest of the ingredients.
Things were fine for most of the time while cooking. Neon blitzed most of the stew in the pressure cooker to save on simmering time, too hungry to spend hours waiting for it to cook down on the stovetop.
Rice, stew, and bagoong. Neon set them out once she'd finished cooking, with a little platter of bagoong to one side and her stew in another bowl. Her stomach was snarling at her, now, and she let out a slow breath as she tucked herself in to one of the common room booths, one leg pulled up to her chest and the other dangling to the floor.
"Finally," she murmured to herself, taking a spoonful of her rice and stew, and draping some of the bagoong paste over the top of it.
She was so drawn up in the excitement for her food that she didn't hear the distant blubbering of Gekko's buddies. She didn't hear the whoosh of Thrash sliding, serpentine, across the common room floor, or the thumping pawsteps of Skye's thylacine chasing her.
She didn't pay them any heed until Thrash, seeing a safe hiding spot in the booth behind Neon, leapt from the ground and lunged right on top of her.
The impact flung Neon's spoon from her hand. Her stew and the bagoong on top of it splattered down her front, coating her shirt in sauce that would absolutely stain.
She yelped, Thrash shoving her to one side, and it was a damn lucky thing that she didn't knock over Neon's entire bowl.
For a second, she was only dazed. Neon's head spun, her brain scattered with the force of Thrash's blow. She shook her head to clear the ringing in her ears, and as she came steadily back to herself, she heard Gekko's panicked shouting, and saw Skye's thylacine sitting at her side, watching her.
Gekko ran across the common room to grab Thrash, and Neon looked down at her shirt. The stain was huge, and fuck, if she didn't wash it now, she'd never get it out.
Fury sparked and took hold in her gut. She looked up at Gekko, and her anger spilled out of her before she could think to choke it back.
"Putangina, Gekko, ano bayan!" She snarled at him, slamming her spoon back down onto the table and storming past him. She made sure to knock her shoulder hard against his, which she'd feel bad for later, but for now, her rage was boiling her conscience to steam. "Pag eto talaga hindi matangal sa t-shirt ko hahanapin kita at bubugbugin kita hangang di ka na makasigaw!"
Gekko stumbled away from her, raising his hands in surrender - and good, he should be fucking scared - and stammering for a moment. He called an apology after her, which echoed through the corridor as Neon tore back towards her room.
"I'm really, really sorry! I'll replace it!"
But that was just the problem. He couldn't replace her Lola.
In her room, Neon pulled her shirt off and sponged it in the sink. She grumbled to herself as she dabbed away at the stain, her annoyance persistent and unavoidable, like white noise in her head.
She managed to get the worst of it off, and left it soaking in detergent to hopefully try and get rid of the rest.
In nothing but a bra and with no other choice, she slipped across the hallway into her girlfriend's room, and began to rifle through her closet. Fade was away, scheduled on a mission until the end of the day, and Neon winced to herself at not being able to ask her before taking anything.
She won't care, she thought, checking the sizes of each of her shirts and wrinkling her nose at most. I'll wash it for her and apologise for snooping.
She was starting to think she wouldn't find anything, but a shirt towards the end of her wardrobe stuck out. It was larger than most, a little dog-eared, with its pattern mostly faded or rubbed off.
It would do.
Neon pulled the shirt over her head, and headed miserably back to the kitchen to finish her lunch.
Gekko was gone, by then, and her kare-kare had gone cold, but she ate it all the same, and got on with her day.
Fade was gone until late in the afternoon.
Neon had almost forgotten her anger by then. She'd forgotten she was wearing Fade's clothes, too.
She was reminded of it when Fade, ducking into the common room with exhausted shadows under her eyes, stopped dead in her tracks and stared at her.
Neon, who had been beaming at her girlfriend, took a minute to realise what she was looking at. Her smile faltered and fell, and she glanced between Fade and the shirt.
"Oh, sorry," she apologised. "My stuff's all in the laundry. I'd have asked first, but I know you were all offline. I'll wash it for you."
Fade pursed her lips. She ducked her head to the side, gesturing for Neon to follow her, and Neon tried to ignore the way her stomach squirmed. She followed Fade back to her room, and once she'd shut the door behind them, her nerves got the better of her.
"I'm really sorry I came in here without asking. I knew it sucked, but my… my Lola's shirt got fucking sauce all over it, and it stains so bad if you don't wash it right away, and I have literally nothing else in my wardrobe, and I was-"
"Tala," Fade cut her off, not unkindly. "I don't care about that."
Neon went silent, staring back at her and fidgeting.
"It just… surprised me," Fade admitted it with all the ease of pulling teeth. "That specific shirt…"
"It was the only one that looked like it might fit," Neon looked down at it. "It looks pretty old, and I've never seen you wear it, so I guess I figured it was one from before you went on hormones? I know it changes your structure a little."
"It does," Fade nodded. "But that's not why."
She sat on her bed, knees apart, and slumped forward to anchor her elbows on her legs. Neon trailed across the room to sit beside her.
"I don't wear it," Fade murmured. "Because it's not mine."
Neon opened her eyes wide, pain crushing something in her chest.
She knew what it meant without the need for further explanation.
"… It was his."
Fade mutely nodded, and Neon bit her lip. She'd been so torn up at the thought of her memorial shirt that she hadn't stopped to consider that Fade might have one of her own.
She reached out, hooking her elbow in Fade's, and Fade leaned into her to rest her head on her shoulder. Neon pressed her cheek against the top of her head.
"I'm sorry, mahal. I didn't know."
"I know," Fade murmured. "To be honest, I don't mind you wearing it if you had nothing else. It just…"
"It surprised you," Neon answered for her, and kissed her girlfriend's hairline at her answering nod. "I get it."
Fade hummed under her breath.
"Did you get the stain out?"
"Hm?"
"In your Lola's shirt."
"Oh," Neon wilted at the thought. "Most of it… I left it to soak. Kare-kare is really difficult to get out of clothes, though, and there was bagoong, too… I don't know if I'll get it all out."
Fade nodded. She turned her face in towards Neon and kissed the dip of her collarbone.
"I'm sorry."
Neon swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in her throat.
"Salamat, po. It's… It's just a shirt, I guess, but… well, you know how it feels."
"They live until they're forgotten," Fade answered, and Neon felt something crack inside her. It was a wound, but a necessary one - like all grief, it needed to hurt before it could start to heal.