Archive of Our Own

It had been years since the Circus.

The Circus, by its very nature, was designed to be over and understimulating all at once, a furiously convoluted experiment full of sound and fury.

In contrast, the wedding was a humble, if slightly overwrought, affair.

Tables covered in rich satin and tasteful floral arrangements filled the banquet hall, aglow with color and richness pleasing to the eye. It made for good memories (and even better photo ops).

The back of the room hosted the most excitement by far. Between the facilities and the doors to the kitchen was a small bar tucked off to the side, stocked with colorful bottles all aglow amidst the venue lights. Inside, a steady voice was attempting to reason.

"We don't have Mai Tais, sir. No orgeat. Although, I could cobble together a decent rum punch. That okay?"

The customer was moderately astonished at this, but nodded eagerly.

"Sure thing. One rum punch, coming up."

The bartender spoke with an almost uncanny ease. With a keen hand, they reached for a clear rum with a floral sticker on the front, shortly followed by pink and orange mixers. They picked up the bottle swiftly and poured two counts, then double-handed the colored bottles with a swift drip. Moments later they added a skewered cherry and pineapple slice to the top, complimented by a genuine grin.

"Thanks," said the man, astonished at the bartender's speed.

The bartender was an interesting case on their own. They stood taller than average, with cropped brown hair streaked with bits of magenta and a jawline that could cut glass. Olive skin and a glimmery eyeshadow complimented their honeyed eyes and strong profile.

The piece de resistance, if you were to ask them, were their tattoos - a viper and two circles, converging like a supernova into one cohesive whole. Symbolic and stately. Unfortunately, they had to be in uniform for the wedding - a fresh pressed collar wasn't their usual digs, but in times of scarcity one must make do.

The punch was the last order of the post-dinner rush, thankfully. Weddings were a routine. Setting up the bar was an obvious first, followed by the ceremony itself. Then the reception, opening the bar, then dinner. Naturally, at any party, there were the wallflowers, keeping to the walls, hands in their laps or typing away meaningless nonsense on their phones. There were a dozen or so chairs lined up adjacent to the dance floor, where the shy and the brave alike gathered.

Near the edge of this humble arrangement sat a very large woman in a shimmery seafoam green dress that extended almost to her feet. She was sitting across from the dance floor, adjacent to a little beverage station, her hands crossed in her broad lap. Her hair, stick straight and typically prone to grease, was well groomed and placed into a delicate bun high in the back.

Her fingers were eager to find somewhere on her person to fidget - she normally wasn't this nervous. But it had been years since she had gone to a party of this size, and it was starting to wear on her a little. Between the crowds and the lights and the noise, she needed a moment to herself. Couldn't the DJ turn the music down? There's so many people, and they're all so loud, and I look like a freak against the wall -

Oh, good, she was back with the drinks.

"Alright, [Gangle] here's your cranberry juice, and my Cuba Libre. The [Zooble] special, with extra limes."

[Gangle] giggled at this. [Zooble] seemed to like what they did, all things considered. And [Pomni] was such a gentleman (gentlelady?) to her. She looked especially dapper tonight, in her collared shirt and black tie.

Her admirer was much smaller, barely clearing five feet, starkly contrasting her larger lover. She had a plain brunette bob in the midst of being grown out, and a black mole on her left cheek that resembled a beauty mark. After setting the drinks down she had made a point to take [Gangle]’s soft hand and give it a gentle little squeeze.

[Pomni] looked up at [Gangle] and opened her mouth to speak. “You look a little worried. Everything okay?

[Gangle] hesitated at first, but soon replied. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. It’s just a bit too noisy for me. I’ll get over it.”

[Pomni] took a moment to figure out what could help. She was not keen on eating, probably out of anxiety, and it was too early to hit up the bar. The music was nice, but far too loud in here, and she wanted to get a little bit of distance from the crowd. The other people at their table, while polite, were not much for conversation. It left only one obvious option, in [Pomni]’s mind.

“Do you want to go outside? There doesn’t seem to be much happening out there, and the music won’t be as loud.”

[Gangle] mulled it over in her brain for a minute. The afternoon had proven itself to be temperate, and when she glanced out through the glass windows to the outside path she didn’t seem to see anyone. It would’ve made a sweet, albeit brief release.

“Sure. I’m game, as long as it’s with you.”

[Pomni] smiled at this, grabbing [Gangle]’s hand and pushing in her chair as she stood, before guiding her to the door that led to the outside of the venue. [Pomni] opened the side door for [Gangle] and they both stepped out into the sweet night. Directly outside the reception hall were stately oaks, decorated with lights in the leaves and lanterns hanging from the branches. A small pebbled pathway lined the sides, narrowing down into a large nook with folded chairs on either side, flanked by an aisle lined with white silk. It was beyond beautiful - breathtaking, one might say. The crescent moon hung wistfully in the distance. It was, to [Pomni]'s keen judgment, perfect.

The shorter girl offered [Gangle] a hand. "I know it's a little corny, but…..may I have this dance?"

[Gangle] gave her surroundings a cursory glance. There was nobody around in the courtyard. Just one dance wouldn't hurt. She shyly nodded and gave a soft smile. It was just as soon as the smile touched her lips that she realized something.

"I don't really know how…."

[Pomni]'s eyes softened with delight. "You don't have to. Just sway with me. You'll love it, I promise."

[Gangle], assured by her words, nodded again. She stepped closer to [Pomni] and slowly drifted her hand on the small of [Pomni]'s back. She shifted her gait slightly before timidly asking, "this is how you do this, right?"

"Yeah, you've got it. Just…relax your shoulders a little more."

[Gangle] was taken aback. She hadn't even noticed how tense she still was. Obediently, she lowered them. [Pomni] continued instructing. "Good, now keep your hand there. Put the other one on my shoulder. You're following me."

The two slowly swayed to the music. The reverberation from the music speaker indoors echoed and faded across the glass panes.

You are the best thing…..

It was true, [Pomni] thought. [Gangle] was. Her gentle nature and kind spirit had utterly charmed [Pomni]. Of course, she had her flaws - she was awfully timid and self depreciating, but those aren’t the kinds of things people solved with kisses and hugs, typically. It never stopped [Pomni] from trying, though. [Gangle] seemed incapable of realizing how lovely she was, poor thing. Fortunately, [Pomni] had all the time in the world to show her, again and again.

Another song came on, one after the other. Every lyric and rhyme seemed to echo [Pomni]’s thoughts, that now was all that mattered, and that the woman holding her in her arms was the best thing that ever happened to her. As she swayed with [Gangle], time itself seemed to slow down, leaving room for nothing but the two of them - it felt as if they were the only two left in the world, and that the music playing from inside was an incidental soundtrack, like a movie. Only God could say how much time had passed. It was pure, and sweet, and so, so wonderful.

But all good things must come to a stop, of course. Something had to give, eventually. After who-knows-how-long, [Gangle] had tapped [Pomni] on the shoulder, interrupting the waking dream [Pomni] was in.

“I, uh, have to readjust, can I have a second?”

[Pomni] came to her senses and looked up at [Gangle] who looked moderately uncomfortable but lovely regardless. The sleeves of her dress were discombobulated - her left shoulder had bunched up, and her right had completely slipped off her shoulder, revealing pale freckles and the soft skin underneath. [Pomni] was admiring quietly, her mouth at risk of gaping open. Shit, you idiot, say something, or she’s gonna think you’re a perverted freak.

“Yeah, of course, fix your dress. I think it’s time we get back inside for the champagne, anyway.”

[Pomni] gave [Gangle] the right of way, like any proper gentleman, and the two headed for the inside of the venue to enjoy the libations. It was a blessing in disguise nobody had been in the courtyard since [Pomni] had been silently looking at [Gangle]’s rear for almost the whole walk back. Had she let the intrusive thoughts win, she would’ve given it a smack. It would have humiliated poor [Gangle] to death, but it made for great wank fodder. The couple made their way to their chairs, dodging family members and waiters and busboys aplenty. The two took their seats and politely accepted flutes of glittering champagne, handed to them by a well-meaning but stressed busser.

As she sat down, [Pomni]’s brain was on fire. I can’t believe I just gawked at her ass like that, she thought, feeling guilt for a victimless crime. She had often admired [Gangle] in passing, in awe of her frame and her soft skin and the aura of warmth that radiated off her. Sometimes, when her skin felt like pins and needles, she would still ache to hold her zaftig lover regardless. On the nights where her heart had furiously fought against her brain, [Pomni] would wrap herself in a blanket and make a mental note of [Gangle], dreaming of all the ways she could make her feel comfortable once she got “back to normal.” But that had felt so simple, so innocent, so - normal, for lack of a more apt word.

At the present moment the room felt too small and too large all at once. With the exception of [Gangle], everyone’s face seemed to blend together into crystalline smiles and empty eyes. She had been having fun up until this point, and now felt incredibly pressured to look as if she was having fun.

Her mind raced as she took another big swig of champagne.[Gangle] would look so nice in a dress like that. Pomni’s breath caught in her throat mid-sip. Suddenly she was a mess of sputters and coughs. [Gangle] jerked her head to the side and raised her arms to do a Heimlich. “No, babe, it’s just - ack - the wrong pipe. Don’t worry.” [Gangle] put her arms down and tucked them in her lap, darting her eyes between the main couple and her girlfriend. “Please be careful with your drink,” she said, “because I can’t afford to have you on a stretcher, okay?” The two laughed softly together.

[Pomni]’s face got a little redder once [Gangle] put her attention back on the couple, who had another minute or two of dancing left. She looked at her glass, which was now completely empty. Damn, she mused, I could’ve used that….

All at once, the vision hit her. It was many years later - as these types of daydreams tend to be. [Gangle] stood before her with a broad smile, in her full height, a wispy, ghostlike veil covering her blushing face. She was in a long dress that brushed past her feet and trailed behind her, covered in silks and laces. Was that a lattice near her shoulders? Not like [Pomni] knew or cared. What mattered was she was a pure dream dressed in white, glowing from the inside out with pure joy.

The [Gangle] that clouded her waking dreams walked closer to her and put a hand underneath [Pomni]’s jawline, leaned down, and kissed her cheek. It was a gentle, wispy kiss, firm but meaningful. [Pomni] closed her eyes and leaned into it. It was, for lack of a better term, heaven.

After a small pause she opened her eyes again. The noise rushed around her ears all over again - clinking glasses, booming speakers, loud conversation. Her lover who had tenderly kissed her in her mind’s eye just a moment ago had her eyes anxiously locked on her leftover arugula and tomato salad. Back to reality, I guess. The couple’s dance had ended, and the other guests had returned to their plates and glasses and other distractions.

[Pomni] looked at her lover pensively. Would she possibly want to - no, absolutely not. Marriage was a huge step, and there was so much more work that had to be done for them both - physical therapy, emotional therapy, exposure therapy. The Circus, with its saturated colors and “wacky” adventures, had done its damage, albeit in a more insidious way than any war or battle. It had been strange, the first year or two back. Learning to be a person again was a humbling (and moderately humiliating) experience. Not only that, but the media scrutiny was incessant and unforgiving. Poor [Gangle] couldn’t bear to leave the apartment for almost a year and a half - it was painful, hearing her cry because of the cruel ministrations of some lossless keyboard warriors.

Recovery was an inevitable, but foregone conclusion. Any regular person would see this - the wedding, the ability to celebrate, as a point of progress in the journey. But it was merely another point of anxiety.

I mean, these feelings made sense. Her thirties were just around the corner, her father had mentioned wanting grandchildren over text, and the time would pass regardless. Sweet, gentle [Gangle] would make a wonderful wife - if she said yes. What if there were someone better out there? What if she was woefully ill-equipped to handle all of her? [Gangle] had done much better ever since moving in with her and [Zooble] - she felt more free to be herself, and had taken great strides in self-care. Why not marry her?

The anxiety of it all tore her tummy into knots. She couldn’t let [Gangle] see. Luckily, she had a game plan. She straightened her spine and turned to face her lover.

“Hey, [Gangle], I was thinking of getting another drink. Do you want anything?”

[Gangle] tilted her head up to face [Pomni]. “No, I think I’m okay. Thank you, though. That’s very sweet.”

God, she’s so sweet. I can’t believe I’m about to do this.

She stood up and walked over to the bar, stopping at the back of a moderately long line. The anxiety-ridden visions swarmed in her head once again, at full force this time. [Gangle] in a wedding dress. [Gangle] in lingerie. [Gangle] completely nude, her full figure filling up the small couch. It was wonderful and erotic and too much to take. The minutes she spent waiting felt like hours, and they all started to jumble together in a pile. She took deep breaths and tried to think of other things - snakes, sands, the British empire, but none of them worked. [Gangle] took up too much space in her brain and refused to leave no matter how hard she tried to will her out.

The time passed regardless, and [Pomni] was at the front of the line. Shit, I was panicking so much, I didn’t think of what to order. There was one man behind the counter - lanky and unassuming, in the midst of pouring multiple shots of clear liquor into gorgeous salt-rimmed shot glasses. The man called upon her to order.

“Uh, yeah, what are you making there? The shots.”

He didn’t even bother to look up, performing a pour with enough precision to put a surgeon to shame.

“Oh, 1800. It’s tequila. I could make these with Patron too, for a little more.”

Eureka.

[Pomni]’s plan formed in her head in that instant, clear as the liquor.

“Give me two of those 18-whatevers.”

The man cocked a brow at this, seeing through her plans. Despite this, he continued. “You want the salt rim too, miss?”

Miss. I haven’t heard that in a while.

“Yeah, sure. I don’t mind.”

The man smiled subtly, giving a hint of impishness. “Alright, it’ll just be a minute.” [Pomni] gave a quick little nod as her brain raced again. One minute, sixty minutes, sixty hours. I just need a stiff fucking drink, man.

[Pomni] had foolishly believed that the liquor would stop the thoughts. If they couldn’t completely stop them, at the very least they could at least slow down, maybe leave some room in her head for practical information, numbers, grammar, anything.

She suddenly recalled sophomore year of college, before the Circus stole her spirit, sitting in a vast lecture hall with hundreds of others attempting to learn about income management objectives. It had been so long ago that it had felt like a dream, in [Pomni]’s head. She was sitting next to a boy - a lanky brunette, not unlike Mister Bartender - and the boy had his arm wrapped around hers, concluding with a spindly hand brushing atop her smaller hand. She had forgotten so many details - his face, his eyes, his name. But she remembered how hard she had focused on the professor, becoming one with the numbers and figures as she spoke. In that moment, she had accepted that this was how she’d feel forever. Men would come and go, start and finish, fuck and run, and all that would be left were the figures, eager to sorted and categorized into neat little lines and calculated precisely. The man’s name eluded her, yet credits and debits never did. She wanted her men simple and her numbers complex. The worst part? She liked things that way, back then. She had no reason to believe things could ever change, before that happened.

The Circus, as strange and cacophonous as it was - is - left her with one blessing. The minute she was out, the fire in her belly was lit again, her brain at full capacity and loaded with dreams for the future. Her body had atrophied inside that headset - all of their bodies did. It made for a furious game of catch-up, trying to adapt to a world that had sped up and along without her knowing. But she had the will to truly live again, to feel the sun on her skin, to nourish herself, to love and be loved. The songs were right - love was the antidote to all ills. Unfortunately, it had a nasty chaser, a tough pill to swallow - unrepentant lust, awkward and spilling out from the corners. It had to stop.

The man rested the shots on top of the bar mat, and [Pomni] slipped him a ten. Perfect timing.

“Keep the change. Thanks.”

“No problem. Remember - salt, shot, then lime.”

[Pomni] had no idea what the hell he meant. He may as well have been speaking Mandarin. Regardless, she smiled politely. “Alright, thanks.”

[Pomni] double fisted both shots, attempting to find a spot in the building where she could drink them without too many people seeing. Within seconds, her eyes drifted upon a small side table not far from the employee entrance, adjacent to the bathroom. It was perfect. Hardly anybody looked over there, save for the employees, most of whom were on break. She placed her shots on the tiny table and tried to pull herself together.

Alright, [Pomni]. Down the hatch.

She picked up one shot, placed it to her lips, and chugged. A full body shiver ran straight through her spine, starting from the crown of her head down to her toes. It tasted like gasoline - at least, what she imagined gasoline to taste like.

She could feel her stomach churn, the acid inside her stomach rejecting the spirit on principle. It took all of her strength not to puke - the suit was a rental, and any stains from spare vomit would mean a surcharge. Not good. She took a deep, shuddering breath to try and ground herself. The liquor had hit her instantly. Between the champagne and the shot, she could no longer feel her nose or cheeks, and she started to feel her knees knock slightly.

The spirit didn’t help the thoughts from coming either - if anything, they were amplified. Full, technicolor dreams, making a whirling commotion deep inside the crevices of her cerebellum. In her mind’s eye, [Gangle]’s skin was now flushed a gorgeous pink, her plump cheeks like apples framing her face - to say nothing of the rest of her body, which in her mind’s eye was irresistibly soft and supple, aching to be touched.

[Pomni] was in debt to her past self for getting two shots instead of one. Her logic had been simple. Ordering one shot at a bar makes you look like a lush, she had reasoned. Two drinks meant you were enjoying the drinks with others. What the bartender didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Perhaps she just needed one more…..

[Pomni] coughed, trying to prepare herself for shot number two. She then licked the rim of the first shot, relieved by the savory salt surrounding it. It was a good distraction from, well, everything. The burning of the liquor, the constant yearning for [Gangle]. She then figured out what the bartender was talking about earlier. Damnit, the salt goes first. I should’ve asked for limes too. Shit.

She opened her mouth again, bringing the second shot to her lips. She licked the salt and let it marinate on her tongue before swigging the tequila once more. Attempt number two was much better, but it didn’t help with the burning liquor by any stretch. Within a minute of the drink going down her legs had begun to feel like lead, no longer knocking but feeling far heavier than they actually were, and her thoughts kept swirling in her head at a breakneck speed. Except she was actually worried for her lover this time - if [Gangle] knew what she’d been thinking about her, she would’ve been so embarrassed and ashamed, just another piece of meat on the rack. Shameful.

[Pomni] was so caught up in her spiral of shame, she had neglected to notice the employee entrance opening, revealing a scrawny redhead readjusting her apron and [Zooble], laughing at a joke that the other had presumably made. By the time [Pomni] had noticed the flash of magenta-specked hair, it was too late. [Zooble] had beelined over to them while the redhead made their way back behind the bar.

She panicked again. Where the hell do I put these? I need to hide them. As soon as the thought ran through her brain, she found a tall potted plant fixed next to a smaller speaker.

Perfect. Foolproof plan, [Pomni].

She delicately tossed the shot glasses into the plant’s soil before [Zooble] could face her. They made their final stop directly in front of her, and [Pomni] pretended not to cringe at the sound of potentially broken glass.

[Zooble] looked a little suspicious. “Hey….uh, you’re having a nice time, right?”

[Pomni] was gobsmacked by such an obvious question. Of course she was having fun - or, at least, she should have been, before her horny brain took over and ran the rest of her on autopilot. Not like she could tell [Zooble] this. She opened her mouth and made an attempt to sound sober.

“Uhhh. Yeah. I just - uh. Needed a break?”

[Zooble] narrowed their eyes, seeing right through her. “Is [Gangle] good? Please tell me you didn’t leave her alone at the table..”

[Pomni] didn’t say a word. Her mouth gaped slightly attempting to think of a witty, semi-normal response. None came.

“Goddamnit. She’s probably freaking out back there.”

“Nahhhhh, she’s fine, she was just - uh.”

What was [Gangle] doing, anyways? [Pomni] had been so stuck in her horny fugue that she didn’t even consider it.

“I’m glad you’re loosening up. Really. I’ll even get you another shot. But you’ve got to go check on her. She tends to…..clam up, around people she doesn’t know, y’know?”

[Zooble] checked their phone and noted the time with a quirk of a sharp brow. “My break’s over. I’ll catch you later. Just go back to [Gangle].” With that, they paced off through the double doors that bent around to the venue bar.

At this point, [Pomni] had begun to sweat. In her attempts to push the lust out of her brain, she had neglected to consider [Gangle]’s utter timidity in matters of public events. I need to go back to her. She took a step and noticed how her toes felt like television static with every move. Her whole body had become too hot and too cold at the same time, her sweat threatening to drip into her eyes. She wiped her brow and made a polite brisk walk to the other side of the room. It would’ve gone much better had she not almost bumped into three venue employees. All with trays. Of course. Regardless, she managed.

[Pomni] nervously walked up to the table where her lover sat, pulling out the chair with as little elegance as humanly possible. [Gangle] didn’t care, though - she pulled [Pomni] into a big bear hug as soon as she sat down, pulling her face into her broad chest. [Gangle]’s anxiety unraveled with the contact - meanwhile, [Pomni]’s thoughts were rushing at a million miles a minute.

God, she’s so warm. Soft, too. She smells like lavender…..

“What took you so long? I was worried..”

“I - uh.” Shit.

“I saw that the bar line was super long….so, I washed my hands in the bathroom.” Liar.

“Didn’t you want to get a drink? It’s okay if you want one.”

“I did? That’s funny. I hate beer.”

[Gangle] had a confused, but ultimately concerned look on her face. “You’re sweating a bunch. Are you okay?” She grabbed a cloth napkin off the top of the table next to her still-untouched appetizer tray, delicately blotting the skin on [Pomni]’s forehead. Her eyes fluttered shut. [Pomni] felt like she was about to pass out - her chest was aching, her crotch tingling. It had become ridiculous.

Just when she felt like she was going to breathe her last breath, solace came in the form of a stocky blonde in uniform, carrying a small tray of two salt-rimmed tequila shots on a tray.

“Uh, hi. [Zooble] said you ordered these?”

[Pomni] opened her eyes again. Jackpot.

“Yeah, yeah. Give the gorgeous lady here one too.” [Pomni] reached into her pocket to slip the blonde a five, but instead yanked all of its contents out and spilled all of her things on the floor. Son of a bitch.

Very rarely did [Pomni] regret not carrying a purse. This, unfortunately, was one of those moments. The awkwardness was palpable to all parties involved, and the blonde felt the need to redeem the situation. “[Zooble] said it was on the house. Don’t worry about it.” She walked off as quickly as she arrived.

Before [Pomni] could come to her senses enough to reach down, [Gangle] had grabbed her cards and haphazardly folded lists in her hand. [Gangle] gave her a moderately stern glare as [Pomni] placed her things back in her pocket.

“This feels unlike you.”

“Unlike me? Pfft. I’m acting perfectly - *urp* - normal. Love and marriage and all that kinda shit. It’s fun!”

[Gangle] wasn’t convinced. She pursed her lips and tried to place her hands back in her lap, but [Pomni] had grabbed her other hand and had begun feeling her fingers individually. Her hands were cold and clammy enough to make [Gangle] yelp a little bit. [Pomni] didn’t notice. She ran her fingers atop [Gangle]’s cuticles and noticed something concerning.

“Why is the skin around it so red?”

“....I ripped them out.”

“Why?” [Pomni] inquired like a child. An overgrown, newly drunken child.

“It’s just a nervous thing…..don’t worry about it.”

[Pomni] let go of [Gangle]’s hands and instead hugged her arm, wrapping herself around it completely. “I’m right here, honey…no need to be nervous.”

“Please let go of me. People are staring…”

“Fuck ‘em. They can eat shit. Idon’tgiveafuck.”

The venom in that first part had come to a boiling point in her chest, and she suddenly remembered all the glares [Gangle] got in public when they were first dating. It had made her so angry, knowing that people judged her without knowing her. It broke her heart to remember that she was one of those judgy types herself, once upon a time. She squeezed [Gangle]’s arm tighter, hoping the pressure would help her lover’s worries. “Let them stare….I love you…”

[Gangle] relented. There wasn’t much she could do at this point, aside from perhaps praying for an act of divine intervention. The pressure [Pomni] put on her arm felt nice enough. While it hadn’t cleared up her worries completely, it cleared her head enough to realize that people weren’t paying attention. The elderly couple across from her were deep in conversation, the man to their left was trying to adjust his crooked bowtie. The party was starting to dwindle a little. [Gangle] took a moment to piece everything together and figured it out in an instant.

“Are you drunk? You’re normally not this….uh, spirited.”

[Pomni] blushed red and her eyes bugged out. She had been caught, not unlike a kid with their hand in the cookie jar.

“I cannot confirm or deny that accusation. Let me call my lawyer.” She made a phone sign with her right hand and made an important ‘call.’ “Yeah, uh, Mister Lawman. Yeah, my lady’s pissed. We need ultra-mega super - *urp* - backup. Oh, one million? Yeah, no. Can’t do that. Bye.”

[Gangle] was absolutely exasperated at this. Under normal circumstances this would be an incredibly funny bit, but this had felt like anything but.

“I’m not mad at you. I promise. I just want you to be careful…”

“I’m careful! Come on, I’m not even that drunk.”

[Gangle] furrowed her brows at [Pomni]. [Pomni] reached for one of the shots and placed it in front of [Gangle], expecting her to partake. The larger woman raised her left hand slightly with a delicate wave and shook her head no.

“It wouldn’t have much effect on me anyway,” she said forlornly.

“Well, in that case, more for me.” [Pomni] made quick work of the shots, but not before making a horrendously sloppy show of licking the rim off each glass. [Gangle] found herself putting her hands to her face, feeling the heat radiate off of each cheek. She’s awfully ravenous, [Gangle] thought. I’m sure she could use that talent elsewhere….

[Gangle] was lost in such a foggy, lustful state of mind she paid little mind to the shivers going down [Pomni]’s back as she poured each shot down the hatch. The smaller woman couldn’t help but stifle a gag - the liquor was strong, and it had mixed in an interesting way with the catered food she ate earlier. The television static feeling returned to her legs once again, barely forty-five minutes from the last time she experienced it.

[Pomni] looked like she was on another planet. Her eyes seemed to want to crawl outside of her head, but in a way that made her giddy inside. It had been a while since she experienced full, undiluted drunkenness - so long, she almost forgot how much it numbed. But while her brain and her heart were doing a tango in opposite directions, her eyes only had one target - tall, plump, sweet [Gangle], who was presently fiddling with the bobby pins in her hair.

[Gangle] took out her phone and made note of the time. 10:56 P.M. [Pomni] was too drunk to function, and the ride home was a cool drive, a little under an hour. Surely, she’d sober up slightly, or at least enough to go to bed and sleep it off. [Gangle] motioned for [Zooble] to come over, eager to tell them what to do.

“I’m so sorry, [Gangle], I thought she was just loosening up, I had no idea…..I can get her a water, if you want?”

“That’s fine, but we need to get home, [Zooble]. What’s the fastest way to get out of here?”

“You took the highway, didn’t you?”

“Not exactly…..I just went the back route and took a right at that sketchy gas station.”

“Oh, yeah, Thomas’s. If you take a left from there instead you can go straight to the highway and then the usual route home. It’ll save you, like, fifteen minutes. But don’t go yet. I need to check the parking lot. Someone’s fighting outside, we need to send security out. I don’t want you to get caught in that. I’ll be back.”

[Zooble] ran for the side door alongside a tall, imposing man in a blue blazer, running swiftly into the night. [Gangle] checked back up on [Pomni]. The smaller girl’s hands were balled up in fists underneath her cheeks, supported by her elbows on the table. Her mouth was pursed into the sweetest little pout.

“The -*hic* party is over? We’re done?” [Pomni] took her left hand and rubbed the fatigue from her eyes. Adorable, [Gangle] thought.

“We’re going home soon, so yes. It won’t be long, now.”

[Gangle] made note of how to get [Pomni] out of the building without bringing too much attention to herself. The bridal carry was out of the question, as was any variant of the corpse drag. Could [Pomni] even stand at this point?

[Gangle] stood up first, her legs regaining feeling after sitting down for several hours. She tossed her phone thoughtlessly into her bag, where the little charms on its top clinked against the other contents on the way down. [Pomni] had only one arm holding up her face, clearly at risk for passing out soon. [Gangle] took her hand and gently tugged at [Pomni]’s open palm that was hopelessly dangling to her left side.

“Okay, time to get up, [Pomni].”

[Pomni] immediately attempted to steady herself by keeping her elbows on the table. Her pupils were dilating and contracting rapidly, attempting to stabilize themselves. She had to get up. The liquor had designated all her body’s functions into separate tasks. Being lost in thought and moving at the same time was impossible. She took a deep breath and turned her head to look up at [Gangle], who was patiently waiting for her, lips pursed into a neutral pout.

She pressed her back against the chair, moving it back, and managed to stand up despite her legs wobbling. Her arms were parallel to her chest, and her hands pressed flat on the table with fingers splayed out. She was up, finally. She had been hit by every sensation of the room all at once in a whirling dirvish - the cold chill of the banquet hall and the muffled conversation felt all too close and too far at the same time. She had mentally prepared herself to take a mild step to the left, towards the door and out into the chilly night, before [Gangle] gently pulled her to her plush, warm side.

“I’ve got you, [Pomni]. Just don’t leave my side, please.”

You don’t have to say please, [Pomni] thought, with a mild ache in her heart. You could spit on me and I’d thank you, after all the shit I put you through. It was tragic, how much [Gangle] doubted herself after all these years, but it had to have been second nature at this point. She wanted to tell her how gorgeous she was, how she’d saved her from the despair of the rat race all those years ago, and how much she mattered, but the best she could do was to croak out a mild “okay.”

[Gangle] wrapped her arm closer around [Pomni], taking careful note to support her back and shoulders. If she tripped, she’d have more leverage to pull her up. She jerked her head towards the side door, watching [Zooble] run back in, followed by intimidating men with suits and security headsets.

[Zooble] made their way back to [Gangle], eager to deliver the news and to check up on [Pomni]. “Alright, they’re out. We’re writing the incident report, so you can go. I’ll see you later. I’ll be back as soon as I can, [Gangle]. You’re doing a good job of helping [Pomni].”

They turned their head down at [Pomni], who was nuzzling into her lover’s warm side, and the two made eye contact.

“I’m sorry, [Pomni]. Please stay safe tonight. [Gangle] will help you, okay? Nod if you got that.”

[Pomni] nodded, slow and solemn.

“Okay, cool. I’ve got to run, but be good. I’ll see you later.”

As soon as they finished their sentence [Zooble] dashed off, briskly walking to the employee entrance and readjusting their apron strings. [Gangle] felt a wave of relief wash over her. She took the first step towards the door with [Pomni] by her side, taking slow and deliberate steps. The two lovers found their pace and made their way out the front door into the chilly night.

As they walked to the car, [Pomni] turned her head to the side of the building, where the stately oaks from earlier loomed in the distance over a tall wooden fence decorated with string lights. Her heart twinged with another ache, stronger than the last. She found herself suddenly wanting to pray, to ask the angels and the spirits above to let her remember that dance forevermore, before tilting her head to the front and attempting to keep pace with [Gangle]. The stones below her feet made for awkward navigation, but she managed, and the ground soon gave way to a smooth, paved parking lot.

After a few moments, the two were standing next to [Gangle]’s car. The taller woman rummaged in her bag for the keys for a moment, the contents of her purse clinking and jingling with the swirl of her hand. [Pomni] suddenly realized that she was on the wrong side of the car - she had spent so much mental energy on keeping up with [Gangle] that she had completely forgotten she was supposed to be on the passenger side. [Pomni] reluctantly let go of her lover’s arm and side and began her trek to her designated spot.

With keys in hand, [Gangle] gently looped her arm in [Pomni]’s. “Please let me help you. I don’t want you to fall.”

[Pomni] couldn’t bring herself to argue. Not like she wanted to - [Gangle]’s arm felt so nice against hers, and it brought her great comfort to know that [Gangle] would be able to catch her if she did fall. She let herself lean upon [Gangle] and made her way to the passenger side of the Subaru. [Gangle] opened the door for her and she climbed in haphazardly, limbs akimbo in the passenger seat. [Gangle] followed not long after, stepping in the car carefully and taking an extra moment to get comfortable.

[Pomni] took a moment to quietly observe her lover on the opposite side. [Gangle]’s panic from earlier had simmered down into a quiet trepidation, her teeth clenching slightly from behind her lips. Not only that, but she had carried a lot of her tension in her shoulders, which was obvious to [Pomni] as she looked. Her shoulders were hunched as she put the key in the ignition, turning it with an urgency she’d never seen before. The rest was standard routine. [Gangle] adjusted the seat back to give her long legs room to reconfigure and her plump stomach room to breathe. She then took a deep breath while closing her eyes, trying to focus on the task at hand - getting [Pomni] home safe.

[Pomni], meanwhile, felt an internal tug-of-war in her stomach. Sometimes, she looked at [Gangle] and felt a twinge of pity, seeing her have to go through so much extra effort to get halfway comfortable. She took up a lot of space simply by existing, and it made [Pomni] sad to know that she could never feel entirely comfortable in spaces that didn’t have much room for her. It felt like a grand metaphor for her life before the Circus - constantly squeezing and readjusting and aching to fit in a space never intended for her to begin with. Yet the pity had a fearsome rival, a raw, ache in the pit of [Pomni]’s stomach that traveled down her loins in moments like this. The less rational part of [Pomni]’s brain was immensely grateful for [Gangle], in all her abundance, even when it didn’t make much sense.

She’d never dare vocalize her fantasies to her lover, but she sometimes yearned to be squeezed up against her in a small space, with little room for movement or doubt. She ached to feel the soft pressing of her breast and stomach against her lithe torso, both of her hands grabbing her sides, kissing and nibbling and licking every inch. There was so much of her, and it was a erotic wonderland for [Pomni]. Sometimes, she’d think about hugging [Gangle] and find herself getting woozy over the fact that her short arms only reached her lover’s flanks, or that [Gangle] was taller by over a whole foot, or how all of [Gangle] enveloped [Pomni] completely when they cuddled.

[Gangle] was always so sweet and so gentle with her, going out of her way to be extra careful with [Pomni], even when her lungs and the rest of her body didn’t want to cooperate. [Pomni] wouldn’t dare admit it, but sometimes she wished her zaftig lover were less careful with her - she certainly had the strength and the might to do whatever she wanted, and she deserved to let herself have [Pomni] in any way she’d like. It was the least [Pomni] could do, plus, it would be devilishly fun and sexy, of course. It was sickeningly sweet and obnoxiously horny, a perfect cocktail of pure ecstasy, guilt, and lust. [Gangle] wouldn’t dream of doing that - she was far too shy and self-conscious - but it wouldn’t stop [Pomni] from wishing that her buxom, plump goddess of a girlfriend would crush her sweetly and fuck her raw.

The car had been in motion for a whole ten minutes before [Pomni] snapped out of her horny fugue. It was most fortunate that [Gangle] had her eyes locked on the road, not daring to even glance at [Pomni]. The only other time [Pomni] had witnessed this raw display of concentration was when [Gangle] was lost in her drawings - she’d spend hours sitting at her desk, locked into hours’ worth of commissions of only-God-knows-what, sweetly suggested and financially compensated by the fruitcakes and freaks of the internet.

Out of all the thoughts swirling in her brain, only one came through her booze-soaked cranium with any semblance of clarity: I need a distraction that isn’t [Gangle].

Her first thought was to dig in the side console between their seats, digging hopelessly for something that inspired even the slightest bit of interest. All her hands could feel were napkins and miscellaneous packets of sauce scattered around. There was also the additional clanking and chiming of coins. [Pomni] moved her hand further back, her thumb and index snatching onto a small box with wire wrapped around it. Curious, [Pomni] thought. She carefully took it out of its designated spot in the console and tried to get a good look at it, silently wishing she could adjust the brightness of the moonlight above them. She unwrapped the wire from the small little box - which, now that she could feel it in her hands, was more like a small, narrow rectangle - and felt around for some sort of activation mechanism.

To her great luck, there was a small toggle at the bottom of it that turned it on. A miniscule screen brightened up, and displayed a jumble of random letters, presumably in English but not comprehensible. It was an mp3 player, small enough to fit comfortably in the palm of her hand.

I haven’t seen one of these ages, [Pomni] mused. Her fingers poked around for the toggle down feature, and the screen lit up once more with a list of song titles. Or, rather, what she presumed to be song titles. It was all various titles in Japanese kanji. Anime theme songs, probably. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who was behind that. [Pomni] smiled and looked at [Gangle] once more. Her lover still had her eyes on the road, completely ignoring [Pomni] in favor of navigating the terrain. Maybe she could use a little distraction too? There wasn’t anyone else on the road, anyways.

“Where’d you get this thing?” [Pomni] asked out loud. The statement, intended to be casual, came out louder and much more obnoxious than intended. Way to fuck it up, [Pomni].

[Gangle]’s face softened slightly, yet her eyes didn’t veer from the window. She sweetly replied. “Yeah, uh, I’ve had that for years, actually…this car doesn’t have Bluetooth. The aux is right there if you want to plug it in, just don’t blast it too loud, okay?” [Pomni] gave a little ‘mmhmm’ in reply, far too inebriated and ashamed to form another proper sentence. She returned her gaze back to the tiny player’s screen, trying to find something she’d recognize.

Kanji. Kanji. Kanji. Emojis? More kanji. Damn. Does [Gangle] understand any of this? Granted, it wouldn’t have made much sense in English, either - she had to hold the screen at a certain angle and distance from her face to make heads or tails of it. The liquor had made her vision blurry and her thoughts a jumbled mess of nonsense.

It’s not nonsense. You ought to apologize to the Japanese, you stupid bitch.

Yeah, well, sometimes a girl wants to play some dumb American pop, alright? Come on.

She kept scrolling down, shaking her head at her own stupidity. Occasionally there’d be a title in English, but she’d read the first three or four words and deem it absolutely silly. There was a moderate intrigue sparked in her brain upon reading the words “Angry White Boy Polka” on the miniscule screen, fifty-seven lines down, but then it whiplashed straight back to more kanji. What the shit. Full of surprises, indeed.

More minutes kept passing, and [Pomni] kept scrolling, attempting to find a song with a title she could comprehend with all the desperation of a beggar surviving the desert.

Another few minutes passed before she finally found a file in English she could recognize. ThinkingOfYouKatyPerry.mp3, the file had said, unassuming in a sea of other titles. She clicked it, eager to hear something from her childhood.

Comparisons are easily done

When you’ve had a taste of perfection…

[Pomni] cried immediately. She remembered being a child listening to this, feeling sad over a love that never existed, limerently wishing for more than being a child alone in her room. The lyrics were overenunciated and awkward in Katy’s cherry-red lips, but it didn’t matter. It made her sad to remember that time, where she was so small and helpless against everything. The song continued as tears dripped down her cheeks, silently stinging against her face.

Suddenly, she found herself thinking of a moment in time several years ago, where she sat in [Zooble]’s car, outside the police station. She remembered it so clearly. The two of them were trying to file a missing person’s report on [Gangle], who had vanished weeks earlier. It was all so blindingly obvious, in hindsight, but back then the two had no clue, scared that she had done something impulsive.

The sheriff behind the counter was gruff and unhelpful, slamming an energy drink down the hatch beneath a badly trimmed moustache. “I can’t help you,” he had told them, “not in any way that you need. If she has a history of mental health issues she may be in a psych ward. Check back around her place for a note. People don’t just vanish, you know.”

She recalled the anger in [Zooble]’s eyes, and the way their jaw clenched. “She’s not in a psych ward. If she was committed, she would’ve told me - us.”

“Ma’am, I understand that, but if you don’t have any evidence of foul play involved there isn’t much I can do.” [Zooble] clenched their jaw tighter at the blatant misgendering, but was unwilling to correct him.

[Pomni] tried to add in some words that could help, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. She felt so cowardly, so helpless. Small, and almost worthless, like a child getting scolded. The officer left the final nail in the coffin - “you girls have a nice day,” and the two left, returning to the car with heavy hearts and empty hands. They shared no words on the way home, quietly driving back to [Zooble]’s. [Pomni] remembered the tension in the air upon returning to their place, and how she saw tears in [Zooble]’s eyes, before they gave her a firm, but reasonable order.

“[Pomni], I think you should leave.”

“But I - we..”

“Please. Don’t make this worse for me.”

Their eyes were full of tears, but it didn’t matter. [Pomni] obeyed, walking out into the chill winter air, back to her car, and drove home sobbing. She thought she had lost [Gangle] forever, and that she was doomed to live in a world without her in it - a colder, less kind world, with less to live for and look forward to.

Back in the present - in [Gangle]’s warm car, tucked under the shadow of the star-lit night, she felt the agonizing pain of regret. It was a horrible secondary course to the initial serving of sad nostalgia brought on by the song, which had now echoed a horribly ironic line:

He kissed my lips, I taste your mouth

He pulled me in, I was disgusted with myself

There it was, that feeling again. [Pomni], too, was disgusted with herself. Utterly repulsed by her cowardice, that she couldn’t talk to the sheriff, or stay back to comfort [Zooble], or maybe to ever prevent [Gangle] from putting that damn headset on in the first place. She looked over at [Gangle]’s hand, small and pale on the steering wheel, taking careful note of the scars on her wrist left by the hand restraint. She suddenly remembered that her scars were the darkest between the three of them, which had made sense, given that she was trapped in the Circus the longest. Sometimes she wondered what [Gangle] had seen and experienced there before [Zooble] and her got stuck in that digital hell, what sort of bizarre and strange horrors that could only be cooked up by artificial intelligence. She didn’t dare to ask. [Gangle] never dared to tell. It was an unspoken contract.

[Pomni] couldn’t keep her crying silent anymore, the disgust and the shame and the regret spilling out of her mouth in little sobs that made their way into larger wails. [Gangle] turned the volume of the song down enough to hear her completely, and hearing her cry like that threatened to split her already fragile heart in half.

[Pomni] was now slightly rocking back and forth, repeating a phrase. “It should’ve been me. It should’ve been me.”

[Gangle] was gobsmacked by the sudden turn in her mood. “[Pomni], sweetie, what are you talking about? What should have been you?”

“It should have been me who disappeared.”

[Gangle] felt a piercing ache in her heart as soon as those words left [Pomni]’s mouth.

[Pomni]’s head leaned back against the car seat headrest, glassy eyes piercing through the roof of the Subaru. [Gangle] recalled everything in an instant, knowing this was about to be a conversation she’d been avoiding. The liquor had a way of coaxing it out. [Pomni] continued to speak between shuddering sobs.

“For a while, I thought you….”

Finally kicked it, [Gangle] thought. She solemnly remembered the promise she made [Zooble] all those years ago. She wouldn’t dream of it, after that. Yet, in spite of everything good in her life, the idea still lingered, awkward and unwanted and half-formed. At times it seemed tempting once the initial pain of reality subsided - perhaps, in some cosmically horrifying way, it might have felt good.

How dare I, [Gangle] thought.

[Pomni] kept on crying, teary and heartbroken and trashed beyond conception. She dared not finish her last thought. The two of them both knew how it ended.

[Gangle], at risk of crying herself, turned the AUX input off, and grabbed [Pomni]’s cold hand, squeezing it gently in her soft palm, and allowed her to cry and wail in the newfound silence. [Pomni]’s other hand was clenched, her nails digging into her thigh as she sobbed. [Gangle] dared not say another word, and let [Pomni] vocalize and let it out.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m -*hic*- awful.”

That’s not true, [Gangle] thought, but she kept her lips together. She had to keep focus on the road.

Earlier, while [Pomni] was digging through her mp3 files, she caught a glimpse of a blue light in the distance and felt a mild tightness in her chest. Cops? She’d had one glass of champagne the whole night, and while she knew for sure she could still drive just fine, she worried that some maniac would be all too eager to book her. She hadn’t been booked before, but it still made her anxious. But that didn’t matter now. [Pomni]’s heart was breaking, overwhelmed with regret, that she didn’t do enough for [Gangle]. That she hadn’t shared how she felt about her, before [Gangle] disappeared in that horrible Circus, vanishing from the world like she was never part of it to begin with.

So, she kept driving, and let her girlfriend cry, as a means of paying back all the tears she’d shed in front of [Pomni]. She had to be strong and focus on getting her home safe. [Pomni] had said that dreaded phrase one last time - “it should’ve been me” - before giving up on words completely, burying her head in her hands and sobbing to herself.

The time passed, agonizing and slow. Her tears kept coming, hitting a fever pitch before slowly fading away. [Gangle] dared not look towards her, lest her lover see the couple of streaky tears that fell down her own face upon hearing that awful sentiment from [Pomni]’s mouth again. There was plenty of sorrow to be shared. Perhaps one day it would all be a funny and distant memory, but as of this moment, it hurt too much to bear. The world had their eyes on them at one point - thousands had heard their stories, but few had cared, and even fewer could possibly understand. The media was cruel, not unlike the world.

The rest of the ride felt warped by time, too short and too long all at once. Both their hearts ached as they propelled forward towards the night. The apartment wasn’t far, thankfully. Just another connection and two right turns. [Gangle] pressed on through and was rewarded with the relief of seeing the swinging iron gate in the distance. We cleared it without trouble, thank God.

She looked worriedly at [Pomni], who had now gone quiet, mildly sleepy from the whole affair, her eyes still glassy. [Gangle] found a parking spot close to their complex, which was luckily a very short walk to their door. [Gangle] shut off the ignition and took a deep breath.

I need to be strong for her. Just for now.

She turned to [Pomni], who had spent the better part of the last ten minutes staring into space, thinking and ruminating, wondering what could’ve been different.

“[Pomni]? We’re here. Do you feel better?”

[Pomni] quietly nodded, turning her head to face [Gangle], and proceeded to feast her eyes upon [Gangle] without saying a word. She tilted her head at a curious angle before she spoke.

“Your eyes are so shiny….and the dress is nice. You’re - heh - pretty….”

[Gangle] didn’t reply. There it is, again, that funny feeling. She opted to keep it strictly professional with [Pomni], until she was safe and sound in bed, and they could talk the next morning.

“Okay. Do you need help getting out?” [Pomni] nodded. [Gangle] opened the door on her side and stepped out, slinging her purse over her shoulder as she did so. She went to the other side, opened [Pomni]’s door, and undid her seatbelt, leaning over her slightly as she did so. She felt a chilly hand softly squeeze her upper arm fat and opted to ignore it. [Gangle] reached under [Pomni]’s legs and back and delicately took her out of the car, planting her feet firmly on the ground and letting her lean against the backseat door as she closed the door behind [Pomni]. [Pomni] giggled softly and wrapped her arms around [Gangle]’s arm, holding on for support.

“You can walk okay?”

“Yeah. You’re here.”

[Gangle] took the first step towards their front door, [Pomni] right behind her, digging her nails into her arm slightly as she walked alongside. Before long, the door was directly in front of them, and [Gangle] unraveled her arm from [Pomni]’s grip as she took a moment to dig in her purse for the door’s key. [Pomni] placed her arms in front of her and leaned against the nearby wall with her head down and eyes on the ground as [Gangle] unlocked the front door and opened it. She offered [Pomni] her arm once again, and she took it, squeezing and digging into her lover’s limb with both hands. The two stepped inside.

It was a maddening rush to their bedroom - the whole day’s festivities had worn on the girls. Yet one of them was incredibly ravenous, for a taste of something stronger than whiskey and sweeter than wedding cake.

[Gangle] didn’t notice it at first. Once they made it into their room without anyone falling, she picked up [Pomni] again, placing her gently on the right side of the California King, hoping she wouldn’t knock anything over or hurt herself. [Pomni] proceeded to loosen her tie with a quick, almost violent yank, and set loose the top two buttons of her collared shirt, revealing pale collarbones and a petite, nondescript bra. Not long after came the shoes - penny loafers from the thrift, with thick, unfriendly-for-shaky-hands laces. After a minute and a half she gave up on the affair and ripped each one off, one foot at a time.

Much better, she thought, with a playful grin on her face. She decided at that moment to wait before putting her pajamas on - her “show” was about to begin. With a wistful sigh, she propped her hands behind her head and turned her head to the side to watch [Gangle] undress.

Oh, what a lovely sight. She was taking the bobby pins out, one by one, punctuating with occasional “ow” or “oof” between pins. Her hair had grown so long and looked so nice when she’d washed it - if [Pomni] had been sober, she would’ve made a mental note to run her fingers through it more, but she instead mindlessly raised her hands above her chest and wiggled her fingers, yearning for [Gangle’s] long ebony hair between them. She murmured to herself a soft “mhm” before putting her hands down at her sides and locking her eyes on the taller woman again.

To her disappointment, [Gangle] looked incredibly worried. She hadn’t even been looking at her - instead, her line of sight was on the drawer, where she had been furiously digging for pajamas.

“Stay right there. I’ll help you get dressed for bed.”

Oh, God, not the manager voice. How horribly un-sexy. She needed to fix this, stat. What could she possibly say to turn this around….oh, to hell with it.

“Please - hic - sit on me.”

[Gangle] stopped digging immediately and flushed redder than a beet. I couldn’t have heard that right. She’s definitely jo-

“I’m not joking. It would be *hic* - hot.”

[Gangle] took a nervous swallow and forced herself to match her lover’s gaze. [Pomni] was now sprawled on the bed, arms akimbo and legs crossed, giving the larger girl cozy honeymoon eyes.

If [Gangle]’s face had run any hotter, smoke would’ve come out of her ears. It was all so sweet. Yet the sudden affection felt less like a welcome hug and more like an itchy sweater that was too tight - constricting and wrong. She timidly broke eye contact with [Pomni] and wistfully gazed downward at the carpet.

“…….I’d crush you. You know that.”

[Pomni] raised her body upright and shot her eyebrows up in shock. She surveyed herself and flashed a cocky grin, followed with a sudden, forceful grip of her upper left bicep - strong and sinewy from days of lifting boxes.

“Listen, babe. I’m sturdier than I look, I promise. Scout’s honor.”

She immediately raised her right hand parallel to her face and stuck up three fingers close together. Then a peace sign. Then a Vulcan salute. She had completely forgotten the symbol in her drunken fugue. [Gangle] laughed fondly at that. God, she was so handsome. And pretty. And wonderful, all at once. Her hands ached to hold her, svelte and sinewy across the wide mattress. Drips of sweat had dried on her by the moonlight - all she wanted, all she craved, was….

No, no, NO. You’d be taking advantage, [Gangle], you gross idiot. You’re awful for thinking that way, just stop it -

[Pomni] hadn’t noticed the sudden change in her lover’s mood, and grinned again, sweeter and less cocky this time around.

“Your stomach jiggles when you laugh,” she said.

[Gangle]’s heart sank. She had put too much faith in the shapewear underneath and felt - gross. Half formed, at best. Best to fess up, she thought. She gathered her words slowly, trying to scourge up some energy but coming up short.

A painful silence percolated between the two.

[Gangle] gazed at the carpet, head sinking shamefully.

“……I know.”

[Gangle] sat down on her designated side of the bed and let out a defeated sigh. Her hands drifted thoughtlessly over her stomach, making a pitiful attempt to conceal its abundance.

[Pomni] inched closer to [Gangle] and casually put her hand on [Gangle]’s broad, freckled shoulder from behind. “That’s not a bad thing.” Within moments [Pomni]’s hands had shifted to her lover’s soft side and were grappling at the shapewear. The zipper on the side had gotten stuck in place - nothing a few tugs couldn’t fix. [Gangle] winced - it was all too much to take in, the pinching from the zipper had uncomfortably poked at her while [Pomni] drunkenly fiddled with it.

This did nothing to stop [Pomni]. “...I’m not trying to hurt you…..it’s just kinda fixed there…..oh, yeah. Much better.”

Miraculously, the zipper gave in without completely breaking. [Gangle]’s stomach had spilled out slowly, finally allowing the larger girl room to breathe. She looked ready to burst into tears. It was getting silly, all the effort she had to go through just to look halfway normal.

[Pomni] huffed, surprised at the give. “Looks like it hurts….you just dealt with that digging the whole time?”

[Gangle] nodded solemnly. It hurt, yes, but beauty was nothing more than a panopticon of pain, wasn’t it? Every ripped hair follicle, every aching foot, every instance of melting makeup was in the pursuit of the endless cycle of being something ideal to look at. [Pomni] gave her a look of pure pity. With as small as she was, the idea of clothing actively digging into her skin constantly was a foreign, but unpleasant concept. The shapewear had left fresh red intents in [Gangle]’s skin, all smattered across her wide stomach. She had to help, somehow. Yet all she could do in the moment was just look at [Gangle], who was sitting on the bed plaintively for a moment, breathing in deep and exhaling with a sad sigh. The shapewear was the worst of it. Next were the shoes - those were off with a small wiggle of her ankle, thankfully. Then the dress, which was a slip on, thank heavens. All that remained was a bra and a modest tank top. The tank was perfectly serviceable, but the bra was a smidge too tight. Poor [Gangle] had to deal with the underwire cutting into her skin for hours.

[Pomni]’s eyes immediately brightened while she positioned herself on top of [Gangle]’s thick legs and smiled like the sun. “I can - *urp* - help!” Her hands flew to the hooks of [Gangle]’s bra, separated only by cotton and skin. Before poor [Gangle] could come to her senses, [Pomni] was clawing at her bra, trying to get it out and untangled from underneath her shirt. [Gangle], sighing in relief, allowed her lover to dig underneath her tank and slip it out.

Upon finishing her handiwork, [Pomni] took her hands and delicately placed them on each of her breasts, taking care to not pinch or grab too hard. The cotton tank was the only thing separating [Gangle]’s chest from her lover’s gentle hands. It was dizzying to [Gangle], but in a good way, the way that made her feel like a person as opposed to a walking pile of frazzled nerves.

[Pomni] proceeded to compliment the gesture with a kiss to her forehead. Her lips lingered there for a moment, soft and breathy, hungering for more. It was almost overwhelming how much she could do, and she hoped that she had enough time over the course of her lifetime to try everything. Perhaps someday, she’d take a day off and spend a sunny afternoon kissing every plentiful inch of [Gangle], from her scalp to the soles of her feet. For now, she was far too drunk to do anything the proper way, but it didn’t matter. She had her now, and she knew only an absolute fool would even dream of letting go.

Letting go…..wait. My hands. She realized her fingers were beginning to dig into [Gangle], who was wincing slightly at the sensation. Shit. She took her hands off [Gangle]’s breasts, opting to shift her palms downward, and took a moment to readjust herself. She scooched a little further down on [Gangle]’s lap. [Pomni] had [Gangle] right where she wanted her - under her on the mattress, eagerly awaiting her next move. A part of her didn’t think she could get away with it. She reeked intensely of booze and mildly of sweat. It would’ve embarrassed any typical person, probably. But [Pomni] didn’t care. She had to keep going. This was the only conclusion after literal years of pained longing and quietly roaring want. Nothing else mattered.

[Pomni] rested her head on [Gangle's] broad chest and placed her hands lovingly on her sides, both hands digging slightly into the soft, thick layer of plush fat that covered [Gangle's] whole body.

[Gangle] gasped a little at this - [Pomni] was quick to rectify this by softly placing a finger over her lips, as if shushing her.

"It's - uhhhhhokay. I - hic - like it. A lot."

[Gangle] was incredibly confused. She had been told by numerous others - her parents, other peers, that her size made her undesirable. Her negative opinion on her appearance was reinforced time and time again. Yet here was [Pomni] - small, conventional, typically reserved [Pomni], clinging to her and nuzzling her head into her chest as if she were some kind of oversized teddybear. It felt….nice.

She didn't deserve it.

A small tear formed in her eye and dripped down. The sniffle shortly followed. Her heart felt like a mighty dam that had burst wide open, taking all creatures and flora in its wake. Now she'd done it. At this point full drops were flowing down her cheeks.

[Pomni] pushed herself further upward with her legs, which were currently straddling [Gangle's] thigh. Their faces were incredibly close together, now. [Gangle] could see her lover's gaze directly - slightly glassy from drinking but full of joy and love. She was a fun, if touchy, drunk.

"No crying! We're having fun….and I looooove you."

Unfortunately, this only made the bigger girl sob harder. "That's not why I'm crying! It's…hard to expla-"

[Pomni] was now licking her tears off her face. Full tongue.

[Gangle] was too shocked to keep crying. The sensation didn't feel bad per se, but it wasn't good either. Before she could gather her thoughts, [Pomni] was kissing her, slow and steady and sweet. No tongue this time. This was…nice. Wet, but nice. [Gangle] let her eyes close, to allow herself to enjoy the sensation. In her mind’s eye the two were entangled in a bed of pure light, emitting a glow unlike anything else she had ever felt. [Pomni]’s cold hands wandered wherever she pleased, which felt good on [Gangle]’s warm skin.

Time passed, as it always does. Was it two minutes? Twenty? A decade could have passed. In the Circus, time seemed to have stopped completely, and nobody trapped in its walls dared to try and measure it. Any attempt of measuring would’ve inevitably ended in abstraction - a spiral of insanity and a death of the soul. Not like it mattered now. They were both out, and it was all real, the touching and the kissing and the love. [Gangle]’s heart swelled in her chest.

Her eyes were still closed when she felt it. The wetness of [Pomni]’s lips had returned, this time marking a spot on her upper chest, not far from the neck. Then, a little nibble. [Gangle] let out a small squeak. At this point, the poor girl was redder than a beet. [Pomni], unfortunately, had noticed her trepidation.

“What, too much? Was that bad?” [Pomni]’s brows furrowed with concern.

[Gangle] shook her head ‘no’ and squeaked again, more resigned this time. It took about half a minute for the bigger girl to gather her words together, which at this point had jumbled in her brain like alphabet soup. Half a minute felt like forever, with [Pomni] looking more concerned with each passing second.

“No, no. I, uh.”

At this point [Pomni]’s eyes looked like they were going to pop from her skull out of pure worry. It was cute, if not mildly concerning, and [Gangle] found the right words as she proceeded to chuckle. “It’s okay! I like it……a lot.”

[Pomni] returned the energy with a savvy smirk. Her own words, used against her. What’s a girl to do? Her hands were still on [Gangle]’s plentiful belly, and they didn’t want to leave anytime soon. But gimmicks require demands, after all. Reluctantly, she took her left hand and felt around for the tall tumbler of icy water on the nightstand. She had a plan, but it required both hands. Before her right hand had left her lover’s Rubenesque figure, [Pomni] had dug it deeper in the nearby softness and gave a lovingly tight squeeze. Her admirer gave a third shy squeak. Utterly adorable, she thought. Her hands fumbled with the lid of the tumbler for a bit, but she managed to get it off and reach for an ice cube.

[Gangle]’s eyes were planted on the ceiling, her cheeks were red, and her teeth were a little clenched. It had all felt so nice, so pure. In the mere moments before her self-doubt crept in, she felt a sudden freezing sensation on her right cheek and yelped in shock.

“[Pomni]!”

The petite culprit looked incredibly satisfied with herself, almost like a smug cat. “You were burning up! You’re welcome for helping with your temperature, by the way.”

[Gangle] laughed. The cube did feel nice on her burning hot skin, and she felt the ice melt and drip down her cheeks, not at all unlike the tears that flowed down earlier. The inner light that began earlier was at its climax now, shining from her skin in a loving afterglow. All bets were now off. Maybe [Pomni] can lick these off too, she wondered, without any trace of shame or fear.

“Okay, you’ve got me there. Thank you, [Pomni].”

There it was again, that smug little grin. It was too cute to resist. [Gangle] wanted nothing more than to pause this moment forever, to bottle the light in her chest and keep it in the drawer as a reminder of this moment. [Pomni] probably wouldn’t remember this in the morning, for one, and there was the lingering sleepiness in her gaze, for second.

[Pomni] yawned. Right on cue.

“I think we can call it a night, [Pomni]. You look like you’re about to topple over the bed.”

[Pomni] frowned and huffed slightly, as if she were a kid in a toy store being told ‘no’. “Awww, no more tummy time?” Her hands attached themselves to [Gangle]’s plush sides again and rubbed softly on the supple skin underneath. “But I love it…..and you do too….”

Even when she was mildly hammered, she could read [Gangle] like a book. It had been far too long since the larger girl was touched like that. But responsibility was a cruel mistress indeed.

“I mean, I did enjoy it….but you’re yawning, and you look like you’re about to pass out. Time for bed.”

The smaller girl relented with a final playful huff. “Alright, fine. But I get one more minute.” [Pomni] burrowed her head between [Gangle]’s soft breasts, atop her sternum, and shut her eyes. She really was a cat, when you broke her down to brass tax. It was ridiculously sweet to see.

“One more minute, okay. But you can’t fall asleep there.”

[Pomni] slowly opened her eyes, the sleepiness threatening to strike any minute. “Why not? I’m only resting my eyelids…it’s fine.” The overconfidence in her voice combined with the obvious fatigue made [Gangle] smile and laugh again. Luckily, [Gangle] had jokes of her own.

“You can’t! If I have to pee in the middle of the night you’d fall right off, and you’d crack your head open on the floor, and then I’d have to bury you and call your family and worst of all, tell [Zooble].....sorry! You’re not sleeping on me.”

[Pomni] gave a small relenting grumble. [Gangle]’s eyes darted to the little book on the nightstand, the bright pink one with a man on the cover, with equally pink hair and green visor shades.

“Swear on Saiki K.”

[Pomni] lifted her head slightly and giggled a bit. “Seriously?”

[Gangle] nodded, clearly about to laugh herself, but needing to maintain some level of solemnity for ‘the bit.’

“Yes. Put your hand on Saiki K and swear that you won’t fall asleep on my chest right now.” [Pomni] relented - she raised her left hand and placed it ungraciously on top of the book. “Fine. I swear on….Saikkekan, I guess, that I will not sleep on your chest.”

“Saiki K.”

“Whatever. I promise.”

[Pomni] kissed [Gangle] on the cheek. Not long after she decided to place her head on [Gangle]’s chest once again, paying particular attention to the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. It was a slow, but rhythmic movement that punctuated between the beating of [Pomni]’s heart. Not falling asleep would be a near Herculean task, but she would manage - she did promise, after all. The ambiguity of time settled in the air once again, both girls perfectly content to be in this place forever, eternally caught in perpetual comfort until the inevitable implosion of the sun and the end of all life.

Approximately fifteen minutes had passed before [Gangle] had quietly (but firmly) made the executive decision to carry [Pomni] to her side of the bed. She repeated what she did to get her out of the car earlier - one arm solidly under her legs, the other under her upper back and neck. It was a brief excursion, but one that greatly delighted [Pomni], who let out an enthusiastic “whee!” during the twenty or so seconds it took to get her from one side of the bed to the other. [Gangle] let out a small laugh, eager to keep this moment in her head for the rest of time. She delicately placed [Pomni]’s legs on the end of the bed and her head on the pillow. [Gangle] grabbed the comforter from underneath the tucked bed, pulling it out and making room for [Pomni] to crawl inside.

“Okay, make yourself comfortable.”

[Pomni] obeyed. She grabbed the topsheet and cocooned herself tightly in the sheets, making note to carefully wrap her narrow shoulders tight. Her eyes softly shut and gave way to rhythmic, steady breath. All the mechanisms inside her body were coming to a lull and making way for dreams of damsels and other curious things. [Gangle] watched as [Pomni]’s body made a slow descent into dreams, paying close attention to her breath and the rise and fall of her narrow chest. It was a sweet synchronicity that meant one simple thing; [Pomni] lived another day, her chest rising and falling, keeping her hopes and her dreams and her laughter safe.

[Gangle] stayed steady in bed for another twenty minutes - or fifteen. Not like she counted. Her thoughts raced in a whirlwind. The contact and affection left her hungering for more, but it would be cruel to wake [Pomni] up, especially when she looked so angelic and peaceful at rest. This little moment would be a point of obsession for weeks for [Gangle].

She carefully maneuvered her body so that she wouldn’t wake up [Pomni], going as slowly as possible to prevent any possible creaks from the bedframe. There were a few noises here and there, but nothing loud enough to wake her lover, thankfully. [Gangle] placed her hand on the side table to steady herself before quickly standing up. She suddenly felt woozy - she had been reclined for so long, busy enjoying the affection that she almost forgot how to balance. Luckily, she had managed after a moment. She made her way out the humble bedroom, closing the door behind her quietly and leaving [Pomni] alone with her dreams and the serious moonlight.

The swirling in her head only got faster as she lumbered to the living room of the apartment. Her fatigue could’ve knocked her right on her ass if it weren’t for her anxiety, leaving her too wired to sleep. She took her designated place on the left side of the couch. It was roomier, to her evaluation. Besides, the indent on the couch that had been made from her previous times sitting on it had, in essence, made that side hers. So, she tried her best to get comfortable, with tried being the operative word. Her legs felt like TV static, and her hands were shaking. Not to mention her heartbeat had steadily grown louder in her ears.

She remembered grounding exercises. Three things I see - okay. Number one. A nondescript clock on the wall that ticked endlessly, its shorter hand looming dangerously close to the two. 1:48 A.M. Ugh.

Further down from the clock in the corner of the room was a medium-sized beanbag, worn with time but well-loved regardless. Number two. [Gangle] never used it - she shamefully recalled hovering awkwardly over it on one occasion, terrified of breaking it with her massive frame. Despite this, she had many happy memories of seeing [Pomni] sitting there reading while [Gangle] drew in her sketchbook, the two coexisting sweetly in the quiet.

That’s it, she thought. Maybe drawing will help.

[Gangle] turned her head to the left, where her gaze landed on an oak side table next to the couch. On top of it were various coffee cups and bottles surrounding a leather-bound book, thick with repeat use and absolutely smothered in anime stickers. Number three. There was little noticeable improvement to [Gangle]’s anxiety. Regardless, she carried on. Doodling would help, wouldn’t it? She grabbed the sketchbook by the spine, making careful work to not knock over the surrounding bottles. She opened the book and a small pencil slipped out. This will do, she mused, gripping the pencil carefully in her right hand.

The pencil hovered over the page for a second. Here it was. The sacred little moments before the creative process began, and the meager difference that separated creation from desecration. She had made up her mind in an instant regarding what to draw. There was a careful process to it all, naturally.

A single circle, followed by two lines on its sides. Two small swoops a smidge away from those lines. Another few swoops on top of the circle, wispy and quick. Then, a narrow rectangle below the circle, connected by a narrow bridge. She had swept her pencil and carved out the figure on the page, and it had revealed itself within minutes. [Gangle] added the necessary details. Some lengthy, delicate collarbones. A soft, but well-defined jawline. Most importantly, a mole on the upper left cheek.

[Gangle] possessed a talent. She had spent countless hours running her steady hands over her lover’s chest and gently cupping them under her jaw, and she could replicate those features on demand. Any time she had been particularly sad, she could summon her lover at any moment with a little patience and a couple well-placed penstrokes. It had, admittedly, helped - particularly on the nights where [Pomni]’s touch aversion acted up, where her skin felt like pins and needles, and all the smaller girl could do was look and not see. On one memorable occasion, where [Pomni]’s body was fighting with her brain, [Gangle] had drawn her sitting on her designated spot on the California King, wrapped in the blanket like a cozy cocoon. The patron saints of art were merciful that night, and [Gangle] had flawlessly captured that scene - the sweet little pout of [Pomni]’s lips, her furrowing brow, her little legs tangled up in layers of wool.

Tonight, she was not nearly as lucky. To [Gangle]’s discerning eye, her depiction was warped and offensively designed. [Pomni]’s neck was too thin, and her collarbones were too long. She looked gaunt. Her brows were too thick. It was, in a word, off. This couldn’t be her lover, who had built her up over the years and dragged her out of the darkness. Even the glimmer in her eyes couldn’t translate - it had instead resembled a glassy dent to [Gangle]’s critical eye.

[Gangle] threw the pencil on the beanbag chair in frustration. The pencil landed with a wimpy little thud and rolled off, clicking twice as it hit the ground. Pressure built in her chest as she looked at the drawing again. This wasn’t [Pomni]. This was a stranger, looking back at her with a facsimile of forgiveness. Nothing more than a fake.

The stranger began to voice its thoughts inside [Gangle]’s head, warped and distorted with hatred. The drawing before her had not moved its lips - it had been frozen in a moment, smiling at nothing, with a horrid rictus. This is the one thing you’re good at, and you can’t even do that right. God, you’re pathetic. Why don’t you eat yourself to death? At least you could do that correctly. Jesus, God.

The tears made another unwelcome appearance on her face. She let them fall, one by one. Drops on her shirt, slowly dampening a small spot on her chest. Two drops on the drawing - which had completely ruined the thing, smudging the bridge of her nose and the corner of her eye. Not like it mattered. The stranger’s voice echoed again. You ruined me to begin with, you pathetic, sniveling bitch.

The stranger’s voice had echoed her darkest thoughts and her deepest temptations. She was the only one awake in the house. Theoretically, there was nothing stopping her from eating herself to death. The fullness and ache of her stomach would be a useful distraction from the ache in her heart. She was well aware of the consequences. A stomachache, in the short term. Extra weight, which she certainly did not need. Clogged arteries and heart failure and diabetes, natch. But to enjoy food was less about the food and more about the feeling of actually enjoying something. It’s not like it mattered anyway. She would eat, get too full, feel some serotonin, and hopefully die, sooner rather than later. At least she’d die with a smile.

The temptation to binge was scorching in her chest as she silently cried. She curled up into a fetal position on the couch and rocked back and forth. [Pomni] would be so disappointed….

Her face bunched up and stiffened as the tears grew heavier. She took mental stock of what was in their communal fridge. [Zooble] had a whole container of lemon couscous. [Pomni] had made pasta, which had stiffened in the fridge a bit after a few days, but it’s not like she cared about the taste. They’d get upset with her, certainly. Cereal? You couldn’t get full on cereal. Impractical. The tears came faster and faster, accompanied by small, squeaky wails. Thank God [Pomni]’s asleep. Why am I like this? I’d be better off if that truck hit me.

From the other end of the room came the sound of an open door. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh FUCK. [Gangle] bit her tongue and wiped her tears with the collar of her shirt. She made a careful effort to breathe as quietly as she could, lest one loud breath ruin [Zooble]’s night. Do they even know I’m still awake? They made a quiet pace to the kitchen, turning on the light, then grabbing a glass and some water from the tap. I suppose they don’t. It’s fine. I’m fine….

[Zooble] had taken careful consideration to be as quiet as possible, gulping down the water as swiftly as it had poured out the tap. They were in their uniform, dapper as ever but damp to the touch and soaked to the skin. They began with their shoes and softly tossed them on the rack by the door. The socks had to go too - otherwise they’d leave prints on the cheap linoleum. [Zooble] peeled each sock off and delicately placed them on the empty side of the rack to dry. They then walked to the common area, carefully removing their apron and tie and mindlessly throwing the offending items on the couch where [Gangle] was curled. She felt a small damp cloth against her thigh. She said nothing and stayed perfectly still, her head curled out of sight in the corner where the cushions met the back.

[Zooble]’s line of sight followed where their garments landed. The light from the kitchen backlit a large lump on the couch, probably [Pomni]’s clothes. They looked away and looked back again. There’s no way it was who they thought it was.

“…[Gang]?”

Shit, [Gangle] thought. I got caught. She lifted her legs out of the fetal position and untucked her head from the couch’s corner. After a moment or two she sat upright once again, except with her head in her hands, concealing her streaky tears. It didn’t fool [Zooble] for a second.

“Another nightmare?”

[Gangle] shook her head ‘no.’

“Okay…..is [Pomni] alright? I know Davey has a heavy pour..”

[Gangle] winced slightly, then slowly nodded.

[Zooble] looked back in the direction of the room they shared. They looked back at [Gangle] with a kind but stern gaze. “Are you alright? Don’t lie to me, now.”

[Gangle] didn’t know what to say. Or what not to say. The wedding was fun. The aftermath, even better. She felt the sudden weight of shame in her chest, mixing terribly with the sadness from earlier that had come to a simmer inside her. She enjoyed those moments, but her brain wouldn’t allow her to enjoy them at face value. There was always a catch. Maybe her lover could only hold her like that when she was drinking. Maybe she’d wake up tomorrow, hungover and regretful, mind cleared of any bias, and her only way forward was out the door. Maybe she was just the object of some perverse obsession. Or, maybe, she was just doomed to never accept the love that she deserved. Who could really say?

Her drawing was an abomination to her lover’s angelic image, and it had failed to make her feel better. Her desire to binge meant she had failed both [Pomni] and [Zooble]. The mixture of shame and sadness showed on her face and poured out her eyes in a cascade. [Zooble] quietly took a spot to her right on the couch and opened their arms, intending for [Gangle] to make herself comfy in their chest.

“It’s okay. Come here, [Gang]. My uniform is already wet. It’s not like you’re going to ruin it.”

The tears were endless, and the wailing was no longer subdued. This lasted for several minutes. [Gangle] was getting choked up on her sobs and started to hiccup. She tried to breathe slowly, to no avail. [Zooble] wrapped their arms around the larger girl and squeezed tightly. The firm pressure soothed [Gangle] enough to speak clearly for a moment.

“I had a small anxiety attack and - *hic* - I almost binged again.”

“Oh, [Gangle]. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”

[Gangle] was puzzled for a minute. That was a genuinely good question - she had told [Zooble] almost everything, typically. Why was this different?

“I - *hic* - had to get [Pomni] home safe, and then, uh…”

[Zooble] had pulled away from [Gangle] a bit to evaluate the situation. Her hair was a mess, completely unlike how it looked at the wedding. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, and the skin below her eyes was sunken in from a lack of sleep. [Zooble]’s eyes ventured further down to her damp henley, close to her neck. A purplish spot peeked out from underneath. That isn’t….no, that couldn’t be, [Zooble] thought. Couldn’t hurt to ask. They looked right at the bigger girl’s neck.

“Is that what I think it is?”

[Gangle] was unaware for a moment, before the realization hit her all at once. She flushed as red as a beet and squeaked in pure, raw embarrassment. She sniffled a bit, almost on the verge of crying once again. “I’m sorry…..I’m a slutbag…….”

“You are not a…slutbag, whatever that means. Come on, now. You don’t have to tell me everything, but I can try to help, okay?”

[Gangle] took a deep breath through her nose. It couldn’t hurt.

“Okay….but can you hug me one more time? You’re strong….the pressure helps..”

[Zooble] nodded and quickly obliged, their arms wrapping around [Gangle]’s thick waist and squeezing as tight as they possibly could. [Gangle] let herself drown in the contact. The ache in her chest faded as [Zooble] firmly squeezed. They had a real knack for calming her down, and didn’t mind doing it after all these years.

[Gangle]’s short, staccato breathing evened out, and she was no longer clenching her face in from the tears. [Zooble] grabbed some paper towels from the kitchen while she came to. Upon returning to the couch, [Zooble] took the extra step in gently patting her tears dry with the towel while [Gangle] shook her hands back and forth. She was stimming again. Good, [Zooble] thought. She’s comfortable.

[Zooble] waited a moment to let [Gangle] finish self-soothing before gently placing the towel in her hands. They scooted closer to her on the couch and grabbed her hand before giving it a firm squeeze.

“Feel better?”

[Gangle] nodded, a soft little smile gracing her face. Her eyes were misty again - not out of sadness this time, but pure adoration and love. She didn’t deserve [Zooble], really, but they stayed by her side and helped even when it hurt, time and time again.

“Good. Now, tell me what happened. Take your time.”

[Gangle] took a deep breath and started to speak. “Well, the two of us were in the courtyard. We were dancing. It was….nice. But then I had to adjust my dress and she got really nervous for some reason….I don’t know if it was something I said, but she left to get a drink and came back drunk. I must’ve said or done something wrong.”

[Zooble] relented. “You didn’t do anything wrong. She chose to have those shots. You didn’t ‘drive her to drink’. That was purely a decision she made of her own accord.”

“But she still chose to.”

“Doesn’t matter. It was her choice.”

“But I -”

“But nothing. It wasn’t your fault.”

[Gangle] awkwardly fidgeted on her designated side of the couch. She went silent for a moment before speaking again.

“...do you think she would’ve been so nice to me if she hadn’t been drinking?”

[Zooble] was taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“Like, y’know, touchy? Affectionate?”

[Zooble] gave a knowing smirk before placing her hand on [Gangle]’s broad shoulder. “C’mon, [Gang]. We’re talking about a woman who pinches your ass at every possible opportunity. When I come home from work and you’re on the couch together, she can’t keep her hands off you. You know she loves you - all of you, [Gangle].”

[Gangle] tried to think of a rebuttal, but none came. [Zooble] was right. [Pomni] was head over heels, sober or otherwise.

“You’re right. I’m being stupid.”

[Zooble] straightened their spine against the couch and turned their head to look [Gangle] in the eye. Miraculously, she made eye contact back. [Zooble] began their speech. “Ah-ah. None of that. You’re not going to diminish your feelings while I’m around.”

[Gangle] continued to fidget as she spoke. “I’m not diminishing my feelings, [Zoob], I’m just - panicking, I guess? I don’t always feel like myself. I don’t always know if any of this is real, sometimes.”

[Zooble] turned their head slightly away from [Gangle], breaking their eye contact. They delicately placed her hand in theirs and drew their finger on her palm in a small, constant loop, as if reading her palm for a fortune. They continued again.

“I get it. I struggle with that too. I’ve had to do a lot of soul searching and whatnot. Not like the fake Eat, Pray, Love shit either - like, looking deep in my psyche.” A slight mist came to [Zooble]’s eye. “I’m not going to bullshit you, [Gang] - it’s hard. These past few years have been incredibly difficult for all of us. I keep tabs on the others. We’re all in the trench together. But that’s besides the point.” [Zooble] stopped tracing [Gangle]’s palm and opted to softly hold her whole hand in both of their hands, calloused and worn from work.

“We accept the love we think we deserve. I read that in a book I liked years ago, when I was a teen. It’s true. We do. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve had issues with self-esteem - and believe me, I get it. But, I need you to know. You’ve overcome a hell of a lot, just like [Pomni] and I, and that deserves to be recognized. You’ve become much more emotionally strong, you know.”

[Gangle] shuffled awkwardly on her side of the couch upon hearing this and sighed. “I don’t feel very strong.”

“Well, you are. Even if you don’t feel that way. Even when it takes every bit of your strength to get up in the morning. A lot of people don’t understand. But you have some fight left in you. I hope you know that.”

[Gangle]’s eyes misted up briefly before pulling [Zooble] in a big hug and nuzzling in their shoulder. [Zooble] was taken aback by the sudden contact, but quickly relaxed and let themselves melt into the hug.

“Thank you, [Zooble]. That means a lot.”

She was so loving to them - it only made sense to give some of that loving back. So, they placed both of their hands on her back and lifted their legs up to give [Gangle] room to recline into them on the couch. [Zooble] let their hands wander across her broad back, and they felt [Gangle]’s breath slow down, her chest rising and falling. It was nice, seeing [Gangle] so comfortable.

The fun was short lived, though - [Zooble] had yet to take off their damp uniform, and they were beginning to shiver a little. This didn’t go unnoticed by [Gangle], who was making note of [Zooble]’s little wiggles in the midst of their cuddle session.

“[Zoob]? Are you okay? You seem a little uncomfy…”

“Not that bad, [Gang]. It’s fine. I’m just a little cold.”

“I don’t like the idea of you being cold.”

Damn, [Zooble] thought. Can’t hide anything from her.

“Alright, you got me. D’ya mind if I change out of this real quick?”

“Not at all.” [Gangle] faced [Zooble] and gave them a smile that could rival the sun. [Zooble] laughed softly. “Alright, I’ll be back in a minute, and then we’re back on.”

[Zooble] went to the guest room further back in the apartment, making quick work of the buttons and ties of their uniform. The water had seeped down through their undergarments - those had to go too. They threw all of their clothes haphazardly on the floor before reaching in the drawer to grab a clean tank top and boxers, and changed in a flash. They then grabbed the clothes pile on the floor, paced to the laundry room, and threw the damp clothes in the dryer before putting it on a brief cycle.

After walking back out of the living area, they passed the kitchen and got an idea. They walked back in the kitchen, grabbed some spoons, and opened the freezer to delicately place them inside. [Gangle], who was still patiently waiting on the couch, was incredibly confused hearing them open the utensil drawer.

“Uh, [Zooble], I don’t think now is a good time for food...”

“Huh? Oh, nah, it’s not that. This is gonna help with that gnarly hickey of yours. I should’ve done this earlier, actually.”

[Gangle] blushed a bright pink and ran her soft fingers over the offending spot near her neck. It didn’t hurt per se, but it was still terribly tender, and she knew it would only look worse in the morning.

“Oh…..I almost forgot about that.”

“Hey, there’s no need to be embarrassed. I can tell you enjoyed yourself. You need that kind of affection. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, [Gang]. Just take one of ‘em out of the freezer tomorrow morning and put the back of it on your skin. The cold will help get the bloodflow going.”

[Zooble] was so smart, they always thought of these things. I’m so lucky to have them, [Gangle] mused. She turned to [Zooble] again as they walked back towards the couch and sat in their designated spot, immediately getting into an ideal couch cuddling formation. [Zooble] opened their arms again and [Gangle] carefully leaned into them, resting her head on their chest slightly. [Gangle] continued to speak.

“Well, thank you, [Zooble]. Is that the easiest thing that can help? I don’t want anyone to....get the wrong idea.”

[Zooble] thought hard for a moment before speaking. “I mean, you could cover it with makeup, I guess. But I’m the only one who wears that stuff between the three of us and my foundation won’t match you.”

[Gangle] winced briefly at the thought of wearing makeup again - it had been years since she touched the stuff, given how bad her acne got and how much of a sensory nightmare it was for her. [Zooble] made a quick note of her change in expression and came up with a new solution.

“There’s always turtlenecks? It’s still reasonably chilly outside. I don’t think you have one of those, though…”

“I do, it just. Doesn’t, well, fit me. Anymore.”

[Gangle] looked emptily at the ceiling, suddenly filled with shame at the thought. [Zooble] took their hand and placed it gently over her soft jawline, making careful note to rub their thumb back and forth repetitively.

“There’s nothing wrong with needing a bigger size. Or any size. That doesn’t define you.”

[Gangle] wistfully looked to the side of the couch, stifling a small yawn. “I know, it’s just hard for me to remember.” Her eyes fluttered shut once she readjusted herself in [Zooble]’s lap. [Zooble] took this moment to let them sit peacefully in the quiet as they kept their hands delicately near [Gangle]’s face. They looked at the clock. 1:57 A.M. It was already tomorrow - or, rather, today. They looked back at [Gangle], who was in danger of conking out any second, her breathing slowing down to a peaceful lull.

“Uh, [Gang]? You’re about to fall asleep on me. Wouldn’t you rather be in your bed?”

“Hmmm?” [Gangle] opened her eyes softly.

“I think it’s time for you to go to sleep, [Gangle]. You’ve had a long day.”

[Zooble] was right. It had been a long day, full of emotional ups and downs. It had worn on [Gangle], but her brain still had a little bit of lingering anxiety from earlier that she just couldn’t shake. [Zooble] stood up and wandered over to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and something from the pantry, presumably. [Gangle] suddenly recalled the melatonin pills in the cabinet next to the microwave. Those ought to help.

“Yeah, you’re right. I just need to grab something really quick before I change.”

[Zooble] returned and stood next to the couch where [Gangle] sat. “I’ve got you,” they said, immediately before gently tossing a pill bottle that landed perfectly in [Gangle]’s wide lap. She picked up the bottle and inspected its contents. Melatonin, 12 mg. Do not operate heavy machinery while using.

“[Zoob], how did you - “

“I’m just that good,” they said with a smirk. They grabbed a glass of water off the counter and handed it to [Gangle]. “Here you go. Two of those ought to do the trick. You know the deal.”

They lingered briefly next to [Gangle] near the couch, unsure if they wanted to sit down or remain standing. She looked down for a moment to open the bottle and take out two pills, placing them gently on her tongue before taking a solid swig of the lukewarm water. Fortunately, they went down easy, and she briefly tilted her head back on the couch cushion with her eyes fluttered shut for just a moment, feeling the pills and water rush down her throat. The pills hit bottom.

[Gangle] felt a soft, tender kiss on her right cheek. She immediately felt her face grow hot and opened her eyes to see [Zooble] leaning down and meeting her gaze with another sweet smirk. [Gangle] smiled in return. It was good, to love and to receive love in return, from her girlfriend and [Zooble]. It felt like a full circle moment, finally coming to fruition after years of waiting and wishing on her end.

“Thank you, [Zoob]. I needed that.”

“I figured. Anytime, cutie. I’m gonna go pass out in the guest room. Good night, [Gang].”

They made their way to the edge of the hallway and turned back around for a moment, giving [Gangle] a brief saluting wave before retreating down the hallway. The guest room door opened with a creak before getting gently closed. That was that.

[Gangle] was the last one to go to bed tonight - far from typical for her, she noted, but not unheard of. She turned around and looked at the clock above the kitchen stove. 2:01 a.m. The warmth and light in her chest from earlier in the evening made a welcome return, except this time spreading from her chest to the rest of her body. [Gangle] brought herself to stand up off the couch, slow and steady, and when she was fully up she felt nearly weightless - a rare, but incredibly welcome feeling for her.

She had the love and admiration of the best partners she could ever ask for, people who knew her during the weirdest times in her strange little life so far. People who liked her as she was. People who saw her not for what she lacked, but for who she was, and who she could be. It felt good, to be seen, to be heard, to be loved.

The feeling, yellow and bright throughout her body, carried her to her room with light steps. She carefully opened the door to find [Pomni] conked out, completely lost in a dream and drooling on her pillow. Fortunately, she wasn’t a light sleeper, but [Gangle] continued the effort to be quiet regardless.

She made her way to the bottom shelf of the side drawer and grabbed the first shirt she could find in her size. She unraveled the garment to reveal a pink round puffball with tareme eyes and little red shoes, from a series of games she liked as a kid. But things were different now. Looking at screens for long periods felt cosmically horrifying, so to play them again was out of the question - but she kept the shirt, both because it was comfortable and because it reminded her of a simpler time, where she took solace in digital worlds and yearned to be part of them. A reminder, she supposed, to be careful when you wish, and to remember the past without getting too lost in the nostalgia.

Carefully, she sat on the edge of the bed and delicately placed her feet under the covers - at least, the covers that weren’t being hogged by [Pomni] as she snoozed. It was most fortunate that she ran on the warmer side. It didn’t matter - being next to [Pomni] provided comfort enough, and seeing [Pomni] sleep beside her was like watching an angel carved out from the marble, lying before her as evidence of miracles from The Maker. It would have been better had they been wrapped up in a fond cuddle, but there were plenty of nights ahead of them that could provide that. Hopefully, dozens and hundreds more. [Gangle] adjusted her head on the pillow and closed her eyes, letting the light in her body run through her and guide her thoughts.

She thought of [Zooble], their kind words and delicate touch, and how much they soothed her. She thought of [Pomni], who gave them enough affection for ten lifetimes put together. At this point, the pill had begun to work its chemically induced-magic and provided her a gateway from the world of the living to the realm of dreams. Her last thought before letting the REM sleep invade was a silent promise - I’m going to make [Pomni] and [Zooble] little rings, someday, so they can remember how much they mean to me, forever.

The thoughts had ceased and gave way to a comforting emptiness. Hours had passed. The emptiness grew more harrowing as the night progressed, eventually giving way to a vague shape in the distance. A makeshift path, dimly lit. Another vague shape in the distance, too big to ignore but too small to inhabit. There was the faint sound of a toy piano, playing a somber melody, and the laughter of children from farther away. A lake. The sun and the moon. A tent. It was, tragically, all too familiar.

Her eyes opened once more and she found herself in a oddly lit room with too many colors to count. She placed her hands in front of her face and was greeted harshly with two shiny red ribbons. She was in the Circus, again. And she was Gangle. Again.

Her brain turned to mush and her mouth into cotton. All of the sensations of this strange digital world hit her all at once - talking without breathing, cravings without hunger, feeling without a beating heart. Perhaps her depression was coded into her very being, extending beyond the clinicality of a mere chemical imbalance.

The sadness is eternal, and so are the horrors. Joy.

She attempted to gather her bearings. Her now paper-thin body was currently spread on top of a wide bed with four tall posters and a maroon satin comforter. She slinked off and twisted back into place, two ribbony feet planted to the floor. She took a step forwards to the desk in the corner, piled high with sketches and drawings from days past. Over her narrow shoulder she glanced at the other side of the room, and she found a well-lit mirror surrounded by masks. A graveyard of bad days, on display, lacking glory and importance.

She positioned herself in front of the large, looming mirror. Her mask had begun to crack at the top - of course it had, it always did - and she delicately placed a ribbony appendage over the offending line. It was a deep crack, most likely from a brute force of some kind. Gangle sighed. Why would it be different, she pondered sadly.

A new realization dawned over her - if she was in the Circus again, perhaps the others were here, too? She leaned up against the wall and tried to hear for any signs of the other members. Oddly enough, she heard nothing. No footsteps, no creaks, no voices. Just her. In the Circus. Completely alone.

Her heart had begun to feel an all-too familiar heaviness, taking up valuable space in her fragile chest. The mask completely shattered soon after, and the familiar teardrops hung from the corners of her eyes once again.

It all felt so pointless. Even after leaving the hell of the Circus, her mind still reeled her back in. It wasn’t the first time - far from it - and she hopelessly yearned that it would be the last. She knew it wouldn’t be. The Circus had taken far more of its share of Gangle’s short, silly life so far, and the terror of knowing that had kept her up time and time again. It was a miracle she could even sleep some nights.

All of it left her feeling hopeless. She sunk into the chair across from her mirror, pulling her little legs close to her face as she felt tears run down. Within minutes the dripping of tears gave way to a constant stream, pouring endlessly as she recalled all the aches within her chest. What had she done that was so cruel to warrant her deserving to be back here? What was so wrong with her that had warranted this kind of punishment? Why couldn’t she just be happy?

She had clenched her eyes so tightly as the tears flooded that she had neglected to notice the puddle of tears gathering near the bottom of her chair. Regardless, she continued to cry, recalling every bit of hurt that had occurred in her life so far. It had felt like forever and yet not long enough. It was a constant barrage of pure emotion.

This hadn’t been an uncommon occurrence, tragically. Time and time again she had been resigned to her room, sobbing uncontrollably about the state of herself and her life at large. This time had been different, though - most notably because she had begun to feel water pooling at her ribbony feet. In an act of bravery, she had opened her eyes, after hours and hours of them being pooled shut from crying.

The first thing she noticed was the water. A barrage of it had filled the room while she sobbed away, causing her bedframe and nightstand and chair to float unsteadily. Her chair had also floated in the flood, causing her to rock back and forth as she adjusted her body.

Panic filled her head and rushed straight to her chest. The pervasive sadness that had echoed in her brain just a moment before gave way to pure, unadulterated anxiety. If she had had skin, she would’ve gotten goosebumps from the sight. She made an earnest attempt to walk through the pooling water, only for it to topple her down completely. Her body was too fragile to make any leeway through the flood. So, she let herself aimlessly float gently to the opposite side of the room, and curled a ribboned hand on the handle of her nightstand. She gave it an earnest yank. The pulling motion worked too well - the drawer flew off of its hinges and slammed into her small chest, pushing her back against the door.

The salty water had continued to rise. Splashes of it flowed past her shoulders and sputtered into her mouth. It has flooded the room too quickly for her to keep up. Gangle earnestly believed these were her final moments before she ceased to exist, either in the digital or real world. She let go of the tension that rippled down her ribbony body and decided to give up. None of this matters. I certainly don’t. I never did. This is where it ends.

She titled her head back, giving the briny water permission to get in her mouth and choke her. It’s not as if she had lungs that could fill up, or organs that would lose air. In her mind, any breath she took in this realm was a stolen one, a glitch in the game’s programming, a fluke that spared her the opportunity of a meaningful death. It was all over.

Or so she thought.

Unbeknownst to her, there was a pounding on the door that began as a knock, graduated to a kick, and finished as a batter. The remaining drawers floating across the room in that moment were surged by the large waves of water, barreling to the door at mach speed. They rammed a hole on top of the door right above Gangle’s head large enough for the water to flow out through it. The water had changed course and had swept Gangle up in it, through the damaged door and outside of her somber little room.

The flood had spread to the whole circus. It had wiped out all the stuff in the former residents rooms. Colorful pieces of furniture, weird bits of decor. Toys. Blankets. Craft supplies. Repair tools. The signs had been swept away too - she recognized the others right away, but some of those with the infamous big red X on their sign took her a moment to recognize. The only exception to this, she found, was the sign of that handsome little frog who was formerly friends was Jax. Poor girl, Gangle thought. I genuinely thought she’d had a chance, back then.

The waves carried her out into the main circus tent, where tubes and cubes and couches swirled around in a cavalcade of chaos. Her head bobbed in and out of the salty water for what felt like ages, before she grabbed onto a spare blue plank that had presumably fell down from higher up in the Circus.

She could finally keep her head above the water long enough to take deeper breaths, but there was still no way for her to properly navigate through the water, unless the water could push her out.

It wasn’t as if she could swim out, either - her body could move, yes, but her limbs had no meaningful weight, so she couldn’t push against any tide or wave that came her way. She was at the mercy of the water, which had been tumbling and crashing for eons as soon as she flew out of that broken door.

“Help,” she croaked out, not long after realizing what she had to do next. Her voice echoed and reverbed across the high ceilings in the Circus despite its lack of volume. She tried again, louder this time. “Help me, please…”

Nobody replied. Nobody came. It was just her, alone, holding onto the floating plank to keep her head above. She felt the tears press against the corners of her eyes again, threatening to fall at any moment. Her crying had managed to drown the Circus, and deep down, she wished her tears could eventually drown her, too.

An astonishing amount of time had passed. She felt empty, hopeless, and alone. It was all exactly as she had feared, and it was only a matter of time before she -

“Gangle? Gaaaangle? Where are you?”

It was Pomni’s voice in the distance, eager to find her amidst the mess. A lower voice joined in -

“Gangle, we need to find you! Say something!”

Zooble, too, had joined her. Gangle’s chest was lit up, sparked by the hope that her friends were coming for her. She couldn’t see them, but she only had to hear them to know they were there.

Gangle responded to the echoes as loud as she could. “I’m right here! I’m across the room….I’m here!”

After a few moments, she saw in her line of vision a hopeful, beautiful sight. Pomni and Zooble were standing atop of a makeshift raft, made from various parts and pieces Zooble kept around from their time in the circus. As the two came closer, [Gangle] could see more details. Pomni was rowing the raft with one of Zooble’s retired leg parts, striped black and white and with a bent end to grab hold of.

Eventually, the two of them and their raft had come close enough to rescue Gangle. Pomni looked down at Gangle and extended her gloved hand in front of her. “We’re here now….grab my hand. I’ve got you, Gangle.”

Only a fool would deny a saving hand, even one from a little jester. Gangle wrapped her ribbony appendage around Pomni’s hand, and Pomni pulled her in, with Zooble pulling her back in turn. It didn’t take much effort, and Gangle was out of the water and inside the raft. She felt the warm wash of gratitude in her heart, and brought Zooble and Pomni in for a delicate, ribbony group hug.

“You both saved me….thank you so much. How can I repay you?”

“It’s nothing,” said Zooble with their sweet lower timbre. “You’re worth saving,” they both said in unison, holding Gangle’s paperlike hands as they did so.

The horrors were infinite and beyond comprehension, but at least she had two friends who could be there for her. Gangle felt an unfamiliar lightness in her chest again before resuming to speak to Pomni.

“Are the others okay? Where’s Caine? Can’t he fix this?”

Pomni darted her eyes back and forth between Zooble and Gangle, unsure of where to begin. She took a deep breath, ready to answer, but when she opened her mouth all that came out was black, glitchy bile, and a retching sound louder than anything else Gangle had ever heard so far. The bile got in Gangle’s eyes, and she could only see the darkness again, before the retching began once more, louder, louder, louder -

[Gangle] opened her eyes. The violent retching continued, at a lower volume from being in the distance. For a moment, it didn’t register where it was coming from until she placed her hand on the right side of the bed and was met with nothing but crumpled sheets. She then deliberately placed a hand - a flesh and blood one this time, thankfully - on the skin under her eyes. Miraculously, it had been dry. The heaviness in her heart had lifted, but had been replaced by a deep sense of urgency. Before she could even think another thought another guttural retch came from the apartment bathroom, followed by a distant heavy thunk.

I have to check up on [Pomni].

[Gangle] heaved herself out of bed at a much faster speed than usual, paying no attention to the mild brain fog or the little specs of sleep dust still in her eyes. She walked over to the bathroom and found [Pomni] on her knees in front of the toilet, her arm on top of the seat supporting her head. She breathed as slowly as she possibly could, taking intermittent breaks to gag. Fortunately, nothing came up - yet.

[Gangle] was taken aback - typically, her girlfriend’s compulsions wouldn’t normally let her place her face that close to a toilet seat, but she reasoned these were desperate times.

“.......[Pomni]?”

[Pomni], not bothering to look up, groaned again. [Gangle] dared not speak, lest it irritate her or set her off. A hangover was hell to deal with, she reasoned. The last thing she wants to hear right now is my squeaky voice. After a minute of mildly awkward silence, [Pomni] looked up at her lover, visibly roughed up from last night. Yet her eyes still brightened upon seeing [Gangle], and for a moment [Gangle] thought it was a trick of the light. The sun beaming in through the bathroom window was apt to give the larger girl odd ideas, if she let it.

“Hi, babe. I’m - auck - sorry.”

[Gangle] looked puzzled. “Sorry for what?”

[Pomni] pulled her arm off the toilet seat and curled into the corner, her legs up against her chest, cowering with shame. “I don’t remember some of what I did last night. If I did anything to hurt you, I’m so, so sorry. This hangover is cosmic punishment for my crimes, I’m sure of it.”

[Gangle]’s shoulders deflated a little. [Pomni] didn’t remember much - not the touching, the kissing. Certainly not the face licking. It was sad to hear, but [Gangle] had expected it, given how much she drank.

Her twinge of sadness had not gone unnoticed. [Pomni] furrowed her brows.

“Oh, no. I know that face. I hurt you.”

She looked about ready to shed a tear but was rudely interrupted by another retch. [Pomni] immediately uncurled her petite frame and jutted her head over the bowl. She then proceeded to puke. It was fortunately short, but it still hurt [Gangle] to see her in such agonizing pain. [Gangle] was, luckily, close enough to gently grab her hair back as the final bits of stomach contents came up, and she kept any residue from getting on her lover’s pin-straight bob.

[Pomni] slowly came to, breathing gently through her nose and out through her mouth. Several minutes passed with no retching. [Pomni] pulled her head up once the coast was clear and turned to [Gangle] with watery, exhausted eyes.

“I feel awful,” [Pomni] began, “but I guess that’s karma for - ech - making you feel shitty. Serves me right.”

[Gangle] stiffened her lip and decided to settle the score. “You didn’t make me feel bad. Not one bit, [Pomni].”

The smaller girl looked doubtful. “You don’t have to lie. It’s fine. I can take it.”

“I’m not lying. I actually felt really good, in that moment. Last night.”

“You’re sure I didn’t try to…you know…..” [Pomni] drifted off and locked her eyes on the shower tile and awkwardly shoved her hands together, each hand in a “V” formation and converging in the edge of her hand near her small palm.

It took [Gangle] a minute, but she figured it out soon enough and stifled a laugh. “Oh, no. You were far too drunk to even think of that.”

“Well, then, tell me. What was I thinking of? Better yet, what did I do that’s got you so giggly, anyway?”

[Gangle] thought for a moment, unsure of how to continue. Telling her girlfriend that she licked her tears out of pure horniness and admiration felt like a terrible idea. Mentioning the tummy stuff was off the table too, given how strange it was outside of context. She suddenly remembered the hickey near her neck, and after a few moments of quiet she gathered her courage and pulled the neck of her pajama shirt down to show [Pomni] the damage.

[Pomni] was quietly stunned. I did that?

“Oh my God. No fucking way.” Her hands drifted over her mouth in pure shock. [Gangle] began to pull up the neckline to cover it but [Pomni] took one hand off her mouth and ran her forefinger over the area. [Gangle] averted her eyes.

“Does it hurt?”

“It’s tender, so - kinda? It’s not, like, painful. I’ll be okay. It was actually very sweet of you, [Pomni].”

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad? You’re the first person who’s ever liked me this way. It’s nice to be wanted. Even if you were a little out of it.”

“But I - you don’t….you don’t feel violated?”

“No. I know you don’t have any bad intentions. At least, not anymore.”

[Pomni]’s heart sunk. She knew in her heart [Gangle] was right, that there was a time where even the idea of her liking [Gangle] as more than a friend was insane. But, times changed. Certain vulnerabilities were exposed. The cards fell where they did, and now [Pomni] was head over heels.

“You know I love you, [Gangle]. All of you. Every day. Scout’s honor.”

[Pomni] put her hand up parallel to her face, raising up the three middle fingers and letting her thumb push her pinkie finger back. This time, she got it first try.

“I know. I know it’s true, intellectually. I just don’t always feel it. That’s a me issue, though. I’m more worried about you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m more worried about you, and that aching hickey. So, take that.” [Pomni] stuck her tongue out slightly, and [Gangle] grinned at the goofiness of it. [Pomni] gave a soft smile in return before needing to puke again, dipping her head further down in the bowl as she retched. [Gangle] obediently pulled back [Pomni]’s hair again.

After a brief eternity, [Pomni] wiped her mouth with her forearm and put her head in her hands. She was still in her collared shirt from the night before, which was currently a wrinkled mess. She had managed to slip off her pants before running to the bathroom, but she would come to regret that given the room’s sterile chill.

[Gangle] wasn’t sure what to say. She opted to wait until [Pomni] asked for something. Several minutes would pass before the smaller woman spoke again.

“I wish I could remember what happened. I’m just glad you enjoyed yourself, somehow.”

[Gangle] smiled. “I did. Maybe….I can make it up to you?”

“Really? Do tell.”

“I’ll show you. Stand up for me. Here, I can help.” [Gangle] stuck out two hands and signaled for [Pomni] to grab them. [Pomni] propelled herself up to her feet with her girlfriend’s help. Her knees knocked and the goosebumps on her legs were at a fever pitch.

“Alright, I’m standing up. Now what?”

[Gangle] stayed quiet, this time on the verge of a laughing fit, as if she were a girl in school trying not to laugh at something the teacher said. Before [Pomni] could even think to furrow her brows, [Gangle] took her arms and scooped them under her lover’s legs and lower back, lifting her off the ground and sweeping her little lady close to her chest.

[Pomni]’s eyes widened briefly before softening again, her eyes meeting [Gangle]’s as she got swept into her lover’s arms. She loved being doted on and carried like this. Her lover briskly carried her back into bed, only steps away from the shared bathroom, and placed her gently atop the unmade mess of blankets and sheets. Tidying could wait. It was Saturday, after all - they both had the day off, and [Pomni] wanted to make the most of it once she felt less crummy.

In the meantime, she had [Gangle] looking out for her, rummaging around their room for a large container in case [Pomni] puked again. [Gangle] took a moment to return to the bathroom, where she opened the creaky cabinet under the sink and found a mop bucket. She grabbed that, followed by a clean washcloth from a nearby shelf. [Gangle] wet the cloth with cold tap water and wrung it out so it was merely damp as opposed to dripping, and quickly made her way back to the bedroom to tend to [Pomni], who had managed to slowly crawl back under the blankets while she briefly left the room.

[Gangle] placed the bucket on the floor next to [Pomni], who was currently fidgeting with the sheets between her fingers. She took the damp washcloth in her hand and gently folded it into lengthwise fourths before placing it on top of [Pomni]’s forehead. She then grabbed an extra pillow and gingerly placed it behind the pillow [Pomni]’s head was resting on, using her other hand to delicately lift up her girlfriend’s neck. The impact was twofold - [Pomni] wasn’t at risk for choking on her own puke, and [Gangle] had a better angle with which to look at her and casually admire.

“Is that better, [Pomni]?”

“Oh, absolutely. Thank you…you’re very good at this, you know.”

[Gangle] blushed before replying. “I’m very flattered, thank you.”

“I’m serious. I don’t tell just anyone this. You probably could’ve been a nurse or something, if you wanted to be.”

“I’m sure that’s what my father would’ve wanted,” [Gangle] said forlornly, “but it’s probably for the best that I’m not. I’m a mess, [Pomni]. I can’t provide that kind of care to just anyone.”

She wistfully sighed and looked away from [Pomni] for a minute, considering a universe where she had obeyed her family’s wishes. Perhaps, in that theoretical world, she hadn’t suffered as much. Perhaps she would’ve made better choices.

[Pomni] gazed at [Gangle] with pure adoration in her eyes. “You provide it to me. You would do the same for [Zooble]. That ought to count for something….and, if it’s any consolation, I don’t think you’re a mess.”

“Well, in that case, what am I? To you?”

[Pomni] took a moment before responding, her eyes aglow with fondness and a deep cerebral reverence. She took a humble breath before beginning again. “An angel…sent from the powers that be, from the outer corners of the universe you and I can’t reach. I know, it’s corny as fuck, but I honestly believe I had to know you. Like, cosmically. I’m not smart enough to explain it, and I know you have free will. You could’ve let me bleed out on the pavement all those years ago, you know, and we could’ve spent our lives as total strangers, doomed forever to never know the other. And that would’ve been…well, not fine, but like, we’d have no way of knowing we were intended to be together. But you wanted to help me, for some reason, and you wanted to be my friend despite me being a complete judgy bitch back then, and then you showed me who you really were under the mask, and I wanted more. I wanted to be in your inner circle and see the world like you did, [Gangle]. You are far kinder than I am, objectively. [Zooble] didn’t trust me for months, and I thought they were just being mean, but I realize now that they were trying to protect you. I try to protect you too - I’m not great at it, but I try.”

It was then [Gangle] made an important realization - if none of that suffering happened, she would’ve never met [Pomni], who was far and above the reason she believed her life could be, had to be better. It was [Pomni] - delicate, lithe, sardonic [Pomni], who proved to her that she could make her own luck in the face of a cruel world, who proved that happiness - the kind of joy that made people write poetry and music - was not an illusion after all. It wasn’t just her either - [Zooble], too, was probably the only other person who had shown her this. [Zooble] was the first to show her, but [Pomni] had confirmed it to be true. For that, [Gangle] was eternally grateful.

[Pomni] continued her point. “Anyway, yeah. To me, you’re an angel. Or, some sort of goddess, maybe? Like, one of the ones that you pray to in ancient Rome for a bountiful harvest.”

“You’re so sweet to me, [Pomni].”

“I’m just being honest. It’s not my fault you look like you were personally sculpted by God and sent down to earth to bless me with your presence, babe.”

[Gangle] laughed, her supple apple cheeks becoming shaded a sweet peach at the compliment. She sat next to [Pomni] on the edge of the bed, and [Pomni] had invited her to lay alongside her with a gentle little pat on the pillow next to her. [Gangle] obliged - only a cruel, cruel someone could look at that sweet little face and deny it.

The two shared what was left of the morning in each other’s arms, after enough time had passed and [Pomni]’s stomach had settled. Her head still ached but her heart felt warm, her body light and soft against [Gangle]’s broad chest. The past was long behind them, and in each other, they had hope for a long and loving future. Them, and Zooble, were gonna get through this, and were willing to work for their happy ending.

No matter what.