Rule #13

Marlene has cried a lot in her life. 

She’s perfected the mathematics of tears because, yes, there is an equation to the tragic art form. First a quick breath, soft in sound, but visible in the ascent and descent of the shoulders. Then a wobbling bottom lip—not a twitch, not a wiggle, just a slight tremble. A sharp sniff, followed by a look away. Blink. Blink. Blink. Squeeze eyes shut and twist every corner of the face, then open eyes and let one, only one, teardrop fall. Ideally from the right eye, because that’s Marlene’s best side. 

The result: a portrait of innocence and heartbreak, betrayal and youth. Worthy of a standing ovation. 

Utterly beautiful and utterly fake. 

Crying on cue is one of many feats in Marlene’s bag of theatrical tricks, but real tears? Well, as far as she can remember, Marlene has only really cried once. 

“So three dates, huh?” Emma licks her spoon full of Banana Pudding from the Magnolia Bakery. “In lesbian terms that means we’re married.”

Marlene laughs. “I knew I was forgetting something—-I left the engagement ring back in the dorms.”

Emma smiles, one of her sweeter smiles, and Marlene’s body rushes with warmth. She tugs off her scarf for it, pulling at her turtleneck. 

“Speaking of dorms…” Emma pushes aside her pudding. “Come back to mine?”

“I—” Marlene snaps her mouth shut. She doesn’t know what she’s going to say, so why start a sentence at all? First she has to organize her thoughts, craft a line that will appease Emma, satisfy Emma, keep Emma from leaving. Anything but the truth. 

“I really want some time alone,” Emma says, taking Marlene’s hands. 

It’s not an unfair request; besides, they’ve been alone together before. And privacy doesn’t have to mean…that. Maybe all Emma wants is a chance to be together, for once without an audience. 

“Yeah, alright.” Marlene’s voice is as solid as ever, but her mind is liquid, her heart is molten. 

She tries to ground herself in the feeling of Emma’s hand in hers on the subway, the chill of the New York wind whipping her cheeks, the slight buzz of the elevator that takes them up fifty-two floors. 

But she’s still woozy and weak when the door shuts and Emma takes Marlene into her room. 

“My roommate’s not here.”

That’s Marlene’s only warning before Emma presses her back into the wall, kissing her neck and tugging her hair like she’s been waiting all night, wanting all night, and Marlene has kept all of this from her. 

Maybe that’s true, Marlene can’t help but think as Emma’s hands travel lower. Maybe Marlene is holding Emma back. Taunting and teasing her with something she won’t give. 

“Marlene,” Emma whispers onto her jaw, mouth finding hers and biting gently. 

They’re dating, Marlene reminds herself. Girlfriends do all they can to make each other happy, to please one another. Emma wants this and Marlene doesn’t, but for a few minutes that doesn’t have to matter. 

For a few minutes, for Emma’s happiness, Marlene can perform. 

And, god, it’s the performance of a lifetime, following Emma onto the bed and stripping off her clothes. The rigidity and disgust crawling underneath Marlene’s skin is imperceptible to her audience, Emma. Emma. Emma. 

“Emma—” Marlene begins. “Emma!” she tries again, making her voice higher, softer, more. 

The entire scene is longer than the average but shorter than Shakespeare’s. Seven pages perhaps, with minimal dialogue, and maximum blocking. It’s not unlike a dance, actually, and Marlene uses that comparison to guide her limbs, summoning all those ballet classes her Nana enrolled her in so she’d learn stage presence, that “it factor” crucial for casting. 

When the final note ends, the outro plays, the coda rambles, Emma slumps onto the bed and Marlene breathes. Emma cuddles against Marlene’s side with a sleepy smile and Marlene breathes. Emma falls asleep and Marlene breathes. 

Marlene breathes. 

Only once she is certain that Emma will not wake, does Marlene slip away. She runs into the bathroom and forces herself to look in the mirror, something unrecognizable and revolting looking back. 

And for the first time, for the last time: 

Marlene cries. 

Nothing ever shattered Marlene like that again—at least not visibly. Tears didn’t fall in moments of happiness or sadness; not at graduation, not at Nana’s funeral, and not when Dorcas looked Marlene straight in the eye and said: “What’s the point?”

No, Marlene didn’t cry and doesn’t cry, because she is not the naive girl she was with Emma. She is unbreakable, or at least, her performance is. 

And so, she keeps performing. 

Today’s Cabin Activity finds Gryffindor Cabin 4 in the Wayward Woods, spread out amidst the hot rocks, clad in mermaid tails. Following the Sorting Hat ceremony, Marlene sat her new cabin down and asked what sort of dreams they dared to make possible. 

This borderline ridiculous line of thinking at Hogwarts—spoiling campers with the seemingly impossible—had stunned Marlene when she first applied, but now? She respects the absolute love wrapped up in the camp’s philosophy, the sense of magic that doesn’t just embrace the campers, but challenges them. It’s not such a bad thing, Marlene thinks, teaching the next generation how to dream.

It’s also not such a bad thing, Marlene must admit, having a team of staff watching your back.

She isn’t used to community without the edge of competition and the unspoken oath of rivalry. But Hogwarts isn’t an audition room. The other staff and counselors want to help, and not just to please the campers, but to be there for one another.

So when Mei and Louis, the two new additions to the cabin, begged to transform into mermaids, Sirius helped Marlene dig up the slip-on tails from the camp supplies, Pandora loaned Marlene some glitter makeup to paint gills on their faces, and the kitchen staff made cookies in the shape of seaweed with sparkling frosting. 

All because Marlene had asked. 

It makes her feel like a part of something, the same sort of high she gets on stage when her gaze skips across the audience, a witness to their reaction, an agent of their empathy. As her Nana said, “We make them feel, Marley. That’s magnificent.”

And theatre is magnificent. But camp is too. 

“My turn!” Louis shouts. He, Riley, and Sam are sharing the huge snorkeling goggles, each swimming down one of the deeper parts of the stream. 

Marlene watches them from the hot rocks with Lila and Mei, who both flip their mermaid tails with wide smiles, the glitter on their cheeks and collarbones bright beneath the sun. Much to her cabin’s dismay, Marlene is too big to fit into the tails, so they made her a pipe-cleaner seashell crown instead, which sits on her head at a slight angle. 

“I think I’d want to have fire magic,” Lila says to Mei. 

“Ooo but wouldn’t mind control be cool?” Mei turns on her stomach, a part of her tail splashing in the water. “What’s it called, Marlene?”

“Telekinesis,” Marlene supplies with a smile. 

“Yes!” Mei throws her tail up. “I could just look at that backpack and make it move without me moving.”

Lila scoffs. “All you want to do is move a backpack? Come on. Think bigger!”

“Ok!” Mei nods seriously. “I would make Louis levitate in the air so he can FLY.”

Marlene chuckles. Mei’s grown so much since the start of the summer when she would barely speak to the staff save for Dorcas and James. Just last week, she performed an entire skit at the talent show with her friends, blushing furiously.

It took everything for Marlene not to run and hug her when she bowed with a proud smile. 

“What would you do?” Mei whispers to Marlene with big eyes.

“Who's to say that I don’t already have superpowers?” 

Lila crosses her arms, her pink tail flopping. “If you do then you have to prove it.”

“I’m a witch,” Marlene says with a low, mysterious voice. “I can brew potions and make curses and even see flashes of the future.”

“No way,” Lila says at the same time as Mei squeals. “That’s so cool!”

Marlene looks around, searching for something easy to impress them with. She sneaks a glance at her waterproof watch and finds the time to be just right. “I predict that in the next thirty seconds, Nurse Remus will emerge from the wilderness.”

“Oooo,” Mei sits up, staring at the trees. 

Louis and Riley get wind of what Marlene is talking about, and they pull Sam out of the water to watch with them. The cabin waits eagerly, Lila counting softly under her breath. 

At second twenty-seven, Remus turns the corner of the trail to the hot rocks. 

“WHAT?!” The cabin freaks out, Mei jumping up and down while Lila looks at Marlene with wonder. 

Marlene winks at them and stands to greet Remus. Never mind that Remus always walks through this trail during his break, which started about twenty minutes ago. The math was an estimation and a lucky one at that. 

“Why is your cabin looking at me like that?” Remus whispers when Marlene comes forward.

“They think I’m a witch, just go with it.”

Marlene hasn’t spent all that much time with Remus—he’s not exactly a social guy—but she likes how easy it is to trust him, especially when the campers have to go to him for injuries. And then there’s something…mischievous about him. 

Case in point, when he turns back to his trail, he says loud enough for her cabin to hear: “Thanks for that love potion by the way! Worked like a charm.”

The rest of the week goes just as smoothly as their Mermaid Cabin Activity, much to Marlene’s pleasant surprise. Not all the newly arranged cabins are having as easy a time of it, but Marlene’s campers get along easily, perhaps because they’re some of the youngest. 

In between lifeguarding with Dorcas, where neither of them speak to each other, and entertaining her cabin, Marlene rereads her copy of As You Like It and stares at the stars. She doesn’t think much about anything, that wouldn’t be wise, but her mind is still too wired to fall asleep most nights, her stomach too tight to eat most days. 

But everything is fine, perfectly fine, and Marlene doesn’t care that Dorcas won’t look at her. 

Marlene doesn’t care. 

The only problem is that Mei does. Every chance she gets, she’s dragging Marlene Dorcas’s way, forcing the two of them to stand spitting distance as she recaps her daily adventures. If Marlene cared, she would be in agony standing beside Dorcas unable to touch them. But, again, she doesn’t care.

And again, Mei does. 

“Marlene! We have to sit with the Slytherins, it’s for House unityyyy,” Mei pleads, tugging Marlene’s hand. 

What should have been a House excursion became a camp excursion thanks to Lily and Mary, another attempt to unify the Slytherins and Gryffindors. Marlene had been looking forward to a weekend with just the Marauders; they’re an easy group to get along with, if not a little dangerous. But here she is, piling onto the bus with Mei tugging their cabin over to Dorcas’s. 

Marlene’s chest tightens when she spots Dorcas sitting by the window. Their gaze is empty and tired and everything Dorcas isn’t. Of course, the seating works out so that Marlene either sits beside them or sits in the driver’s lap.

It doesn’t matter, Marlene tells herself. The show must go on. 

So she sits. 

Dorcas doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as twitch. The bus pulls out and Marlene doesn’t look out the window because that would mean looking at Dorcas, but she can hear the riff of Dumbledore’s fiddle playing them out, and the screech of campers bidding the Camp Director and kitchen staff goodbye. 

The bus ride is supposed to be two hours according to Mary, and Marlene sinks into the seat cushion, bracing herself for one hundred and twenty minutes of whatever terrible feeling is crawling its way up her throat. 

She daydreams of shaking Dorcas’ shoulders, holding Dorcas, telling Dorcas something good, something right. 

But it wasn’t Marlene who messed this up. 

“What’s the point?” Dorcas had said. 

“What’s the point, Marlene?!” Emma’s voice catches and she looks away. “Why be in a relationship at all if you don’t want to fucking touch me.”

“I do want to touch you, just not like that. Or at least not all the time, I can compromise, I want to make you happy and make you feel good—”

“So what, touching me makes you feel disgusted?”

Marlene flinches. “That’s not—it’s not about you, Emma, I just don’t like…that.”

“Sex.”

“Yes,” Marlene breathes, relieved to finally have said it. It’s not just relief sitting in her chest, however, it’s jagged dread. 

“I’m not sure what the fuck is wrong with you, but I like sex, no, I love sex, and I’m not interested in being your goddamn friend, Marlene. You’re such a fucking tease, honestly, why would you have dated me if you knew that this wasn’t what you wanted?!”

“We don’t have to sleep together to date,” Marlene says weakly.

“Yes, we fucking do!”

“I’m sorry.” It’s all Marlene can say. 

Evidently, it’s not enough. 

“How’s Mei?” Dorcas’s voice pulls Marlene out of the memory. They haven’t turned from their position against the window. 

“Fine.” Marlene says, then quickly adds, “Great, actually. Though she misses you terribly.”

Dorcas nods. “I miss her.”

“I miss Ginny.”

“She’s alright.” 

Marlene swallows. “I know.”

When Lily and Mary sat Dorcas and Marlene down to rearrange the cabins, neither protested at the idea of switching Mei and Ginny. Ginny, with her sly antics, and Mei with her newfound bravery, both embody the other Houses well, and Marlene knew switching up the cabins would be good for their social skills, what with Ginny’s bossy demeanor and Mei’s shy one. 

Still, Marlene misses Ginny’s wild imagination, her determination to do anything and everything. 

But she’ll be fine with Dorcas. 

Just like Marlene will be fine without them. 

Dorcas doesn’t say anything else and Marlene, though she’s brimming with words, with lines, with confessions, doesn’t either. 

When campers come up to them during the pitstop, Dorcas perks up and talks like nothing is amiss, hugging Mei tightly when they hear about her latest marks in Archery. Dorcas’s smile is almost convincing, but Marlene knows the difference. 

Once the campers return to their seats, Dorcas returns to the window. 

It would be easier if Marlene didn’t know what they were thinking about, why Dorcas is hurting. In fact, all of it would be so simple if Dorcas were Emma and broke things off because she’s horrible and cruel and uncaring.

But that’s not Dorcas. 

Though Marlene can barely recognize Dorcas’s empty expression or their flippant words, though this week Dorcas had been a different person entirely, Marlene knows that this is just a coping mechanism. 

Her mom showed up and tried to take them home, and now Dorcas is coping. 

So Marlene sits the rest of the bus ride in silence.

And Dorcas does too.  

******

“Welcome to the Durmstrang Mountains!” Lily calls out from the center of the crowd. “Are you all ready to hike?”

Marlene’s cabin jumps up and down as they cheer in response, the rest of the campers just as rowdy. 

Behind them, the buses are pulling out of the parking lot, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. Marlene watches them leave with dread; she has a bad feeling about this excursion. A gut instinct that screams at her to run away. 

Maybe it's the dark clouds above them or the row of bug bites down her neck. Maybe it's the fact that Mary and Lily are avoiding each other almost as much as Marlene is Dorcas. Or maybe it’s because Remus is chatting with Gilderoy, out of all people, and Sirius and James are watching him with pitiful frowns. 

Whatever it is, Marlene feels woozy for it. 

Lily and Mary divide the staff so that there are counselors spread out amidst the campers on the trail. Marlene is quick to stick to Mary’s side and ends up at the front with Regulus and Remus. 

Dorcas ends up at the back and Marlene feels nothing for it. Not better, not worse, just fine. 

The campers, as usual, are full of energy and smiles despite their heavy backpacks full of sleeping bags, and though the trail is steep and rocky, they begin the hike with ease. Marlene keeps looking back, waiting for someone to fall, or for some campers to argue, or hell, lightning to strike because that gnawing feeling won’t go away. It’s debilitating, the unease. Makes Marlene want to sit down. 

“So I don’t know what to do, I mean, she’s the one who, you know, and now she’s ignoring me. She’s so goddamn hot and cold,” Mary says with a sigh, though it sounds more fond than frustrated. 

Marlene can barely focus, but she thinks Mary is talking about Lily. That’s all Mary talks about these days. So she tries to say something astute: “Well, Lily sees you as competition, so even if she wants to like you, she can’t.”

Mary frowns, hoisting herself onto a rock by holding Marlene’s shoulder. The campers are talking and laughing behind them, the scrape of their tennis shoes on the rocks and the steady hum of a river nearby filling Marlene’s head. It’s all so loud that Marlene wants to put in earplugs. 

“I don’t know if Lily sees me as competition,” Mary mumbles grumpily.

“Well, you both have Dumbledore as your supervisor, no?” Marlene shrugs. “One day soon he’ll want to retire and then you two will be the top picks to replace him.”

Mary stops in her tracks. “Oh my god. He said at our meeting—he implied—” 

Slowly, she turns to Marlene, her braids unmoved by the wind, but her loose shirt rustling. “I think you’re right. I think Dumbledore’s retiring.”

“This year?” 

“Yes!” Mary’s eyes light up and then promptly dim. “Shit.”

Marlene looks back to make sure none of the campers are listening. “What?”

They return to the trail, that feeling in Marlene’s gut growing thorns.

“What if this is why Lily is being such a, you know. She’s trying to get me off my game so that she can swoop in and get the promotion.”

Marlene tugs on her backpack straps, her palms and brow sweaty. “Do you even want it?”

“That’s not the point, the point is that Lily doesn’t want me to have it.”

“I see.” Marlene doesn’t see, in fact, she’s having a hard time seeing anything right now. She takes that as a cue to pull her water bottle out of her bag and gulps down a few sips. 

“Oh, good idea.” Mary turns to the long line of campers behind them, half of them tucked behind the curve of trees. “Everyone take a second to hydrate!”

Down the line, Barty salutes to Mary, and Pandora blows Marlene a kiss. Marlene thinks she smiles back, but she’s too busy squinting to see if she can make out Lily’s red hair or Dorcas’s dark cornrows through the trees. 

“Hey, go tell Remus and Regulus to slow down.” Mary nudges Marlene. 

She nods and jogs up the slope to catch up with them. They were supposed to help Mary and Marlene maneuver around the other hikers and figure out which of the many trails to follow up the mountain, but rather predictably, they sped ahead. 

Marlene finds them standing by a patch of redwood trees, Remus scowling at the dark red bark as Regulus speaks in a serious tone, “I didn’t figure it out until a few weeks ago and I told Sirius that keeping it from you was a stupid fucking idea.”

“I’m not—I don’t think I’m mad about it,” Remus says, though the strain in his voice betrays his anger. 

“Well, regardless, I’m sorry for the part I played. I won’t apologize for my sibling’s idiocy, however.”

“Yeah.” Remus’s mouth quirks up. He moves to say something more, but then Regulus spots Marlene and puts a hand on Remus’s arm.

Right. Marlene is eavesdropping. She didn’t mean to. Honestly, she just wanted to stop moving for a second, the world’s still spinning, which is unusual, really strange, actually, but she was sent here to do something. What was it?

“You’re too fast for us,” Marlene remembers to say. “Not all of us live and breathe Colorado, Remus.”

Remus smiles tightly. “You’d think I’d hike all the time in such a beautiful place but no. Not since my husband passed, at least.”

Marlene blinks. She hadn’t known that Remus was a widow. She tries to think of the right words, but she feels like she’s forgotten her lines, like the spotlight is glaring right into her eyes, blinding her, trapping her. 

God, she might throw up. 

Remus is walking back toward the others, Marlene registers, but Regulus cocks his head, staying put. 

At the sound of Mary’s call to move forward, Regulus nods to the trail. “Come on then.”

Marlene sucks in a breath, but follows Regulus’ lead. 

It’s not that Marlene doesn’t like Regulus. He’s also a newbie counselor, wicked smart, and unusually flexible on the aerial silks. But Marlene finds his face unsettling. He’s gorgeous, sure, but besides a touch of boredom, and occasionally, annoyance, his expression reveals nothing. Marlene doesn’t trust people she can’t read. 

She doesn’t trust anyone that can hide as well as she can.

Regulus has a map of the mountain’s trails in his hand, a big red X marked on the peak where they plan to set up camp for the night, but he’s not looking at it. His gray-blue eyes are fixed on the trees around them, and every so often, on Marlene. 

“What?” she says after he looks again. 

“I can imagine that you’re upset.”

Marlene almost trips over her own feet. “I’m sorry?”

“You were happy with Dorcas and now it’s all fallen apart.” Regulus’ voice is flat. “One would expect that to be a devastating blow.”

When Marlene doesn’t say anything, Regulus continues, “It’s obvious that Dorcas is struggling with it.”

“I have no idea what you’re—”

“Don’t bother,” Regulus cuts Marlene off. 

And if it weren’t for the bright sunlight in her eyes, for the twist of the ground, and tight clench in her belly, Marlene would recover and react and shift the conversation somewhere safe. But she doesn’t feel good. Fuck, she feels like shit. 

“Now you, on the other hand, seem perfectly fine,” Regulus drawls. 

The words summon a Taylor Swift song and Marlene almost giggles at the reference, but then her stomach clenches and she has to put all of her focus on standing. 

Regulus chuckles. “For all Dorcas knows, you don’t care about them at all.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then tell her.”

Marlene has to stop moving. She needs to sit down. She wants Dorcas to hold her. She wants—she wants—

“I don’t know you, Marlene.” Regulus sighs. “But I have a feeling that you and I are not all that different. Sometimes we have to be the ones to take a risk and fight for what we love. Even if we face rejection. Especially if we do.”

The words are gut-punching, mind-whirling, breath-taking—so much so that Marlene loses control, consciousness slipping out of her fingers as she falls knees first to the ground. 

“Marlene?!” 

******

When she blinks her eyes open, the first thought Marlene has is: where are my cats? She always wakes up with them cuddled beside her, sometimes even sprawled across her chest and legs, but right now she only feels cold, hard ground, something sharp digging into her spine. 

“Marls?” something lovely whispers. “You awake?”

Marlene bolts up, eyes watering from the sudden light. “Dorcas?”

“Hi, yes, you’re alright. Lay back down.”

She rubs her eyes, shaking out the ringing in her ears. Something incessant spins from her head to her throat, making her nauseous. “What happened?”

“You passed out,” a new voice says. 

Marlene’s vision adjusts and she finds Dorcas and Remus sitting on either side of her, both with concerned expressions. The sun shines behind them, casting little halos over their baby hairs. It’s too much to look at Dorcas in all that light, so Marlene looks to Remus. 

“I passed out?” she repeats. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

Marlene lasts one second before her gaze falls back on Dorcas, whose lips twitch up. And oh, consider Marlene fucking healed after that—all she needed was Dorcas to smile at her, and she’s fine. She’s fine. 

But the ache in her body says otherwise.

Remus moves into full-on nurse mode, checking for concussion then whipping out a rapid Covid test which Marlene, thankfully, tests negative. He explains that the rest of the camp is still hiking up the mountain, and when Marlene moves to stand so that they can join them, Remus and Dorcas both hold her down. 

“No, Marlene,” Remus says. “You need to rest.”

“I was just a little dehydrated, I’m fine.”

Dorcas shakes their head. “Have you been eating? What’s your sleep been like the past few days?”

Remus smiles a little. “I’m the nurse here, Dorcas, yeah?”

“Sorry,” they mumble, eyes flicking to Marlene warily. 

“Well, Marlene?” Remus prompts. 

She debates lying to him, lying to Dorcas. But she’s tired of pretending. “I’ve had a hard time sleeping.”

“How much sleep have you managed in the past few days?”

“A few hours.”

Remus sucks in a breath. He quickly pulls out a few granola bars from his backpack. “You’re going to eat these and then Dorcas is going to take you back down the trail. Lily will call and find a hotel room for you both tonight.”

“But my campers—”

“Will be fine with the many other counselors here,” Remus cuts in. 

Marlene swallows, her mouth dry and head throbbing. “Alright. But I don’t need Dorcas to come.”

Dorcas pulls back from Marlene, but Remus is adamant. “I have to stay in case a camper gets hurt but you are not trekking down there alone.”

“You’re sick, Marlene,” Dorcas snaps. “Stop being a bitch about this.”

Both Remus and Marlene flinch at her words. 

“Fine.” Marlene sits up, trying to ignore the warmth of Dorcas’s palms as they help her. Trying to ignore the feeling of Dorcas there, beside her. Trying to ignore Dorcas.

“Let’s go to the hotel.” 

Marlene wishes she had stayed unconscious. 

******

The hotel is really a motel, slightly sketchy and charmingly run down. Dorcas and Marlene don’t speak much as they check in, and neither of them bat an eye when they see Lily booked them a room with one bed. 

It doesn’t matter, of course, because as Dorcas so brutally put it: What’s the point?

There isn’t one, not for Marlene and Dorcas. 

They’re not girlfriends, they’re not even friends, they’re just coworkers caught in yet another ridiculous situation. 

Marlene sits on the cool sheets and resents her body for failing her; she hates feeling weak and invalid, and now she has to play patient with Dorcas, the one person she wants to appear perfect for.

“Lay down,” Dorcas says when she walks out of the bathroom. “Stop pretending like you’re fine, I know you’re sick.”

Regulus’s words from before come hurtling right into Marlene’s dizzy thoughts: Perfectly fine. Marlene seems perfectly fine to Dorcas. 

“For all Dorcas knows, you don’t care about them at all.”

“I’m not, you know,” Marlene blurts. 

Dorcas rifles through her backpack, tugging on the zipper like they intend to rip it off. “Yes, I saw you fucking pass out, McKinnon.”

Marlene winces. “I mean I’m not fine with—I care that we broke up.”

“Great. So glad you care.” Dorcas spins on their heel and moves to flick off the lights. “I’m going to go find dinner for us, you are going to take a nap in the meantime.”

Then the door slams and Marlene’s breath stutters. 

Her limbs begin to shake, probably from the cold, and she stuffs her legs underneath the covers, throwing up the hood of her sweatshirt and yanking the strings into a knot. But even enveloped in cotton, Marlene can’t stop trembling, her breath a quick allegro. Her face begins to tingle, something like daggers stabbing the backs of her eyes, and then every muscle around her lips starts to spasm. 

She’s caught in the panic—is she having a seizure? a stroke?—until something wet and slimy falls out of her eyes, both eyes. 

Marlene’s crying. 

She sobs with the realization, snot and wet coughs pouring out with her tears and she wraps herself up into a ball. 

“Stop that—stop crying!” she tries to tell herself, but her body won’t listen. 

“Please,” she moans, but the tears continue, ugly and raw and real. 

It’s a mirror of three years ago, sitting on the cold tile of Emma’s bathroom floor. Trying to muffle every noise by biting the skin of her hand, shoving her wet face into the fabric of her shirt. Only this time she doesn’t make it out unseen. 

This time, Dorcas walks in and sees her. 

“Marlene—what’s wrong, oh my god, baby.”

“Baby?” Marlene breaks into tears all over again. 

Dorcas is warm and solid, pulling Marlene into their arms and rubbing circles over her back. It’s embarrassing and terrible but Marlene’s body is traitorous, screaming with feeling. 

“Come on, Marls, look at me.”

Marlene doesn’t want Dorcas to see. She can’t let Dorcas see. 

“Baby,” Dorcas repeats again. 

And what is Marlene supposed to do but listen? She sniffs, wiping her face, and pulls her head out of her sweatshirt. 

Dorcas unties the strings slowly, tugging the hood off of Marlene's head, and then brushing her tangled hair out of her eyes. They don’t say anything, just watch Marlene with utter compassion, her touch soothing and simple, not asking for more, not seeking anything Marlene can’t give. 

Take a risk, Regulus had told Marlene. Even if it means rejection.

“I love you.”

Dorcas’s touch stills, their eyes widening. “What did you just say?”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t say it before—I couldn’t—it’s hard for me to do this.” Marlene swallows. “To trust you.”

There’s a long pause and Dorcas searches Marlene’s face, their brows furrowing. “I…” the sentence trails off as if waiting for Marlene to fill in the blanks. 

Marlene’s breath catches and she seizes the opportunity. “The last time, the only time I fell in love before—I—well, she broke my heart, sure, but she also made me feel…Fuck, broken. Like I was messed up for not wanting sex. And I know you’d never push my boundaries, I’ve seen how patient and loving you are, but I can’t help but remember what she did, what she took from me and it hurts. God, it hurts. And you’re not her, thank god you’re not Emma, but I’m still grieving, I’m still trying to cope—and it’s easier not to show just how badly I am coping. I’ve been lying to myself, acting like I don’t care, but I do! I care so much that I can’t eat or sleep or—”

Marlene’s breathless, her voice like gravel, but at least the tears have stopped. “I care, Dorcas. Probably too much.”

“Marls, I say this with love.” Dorcas smiles. “You need to go to therapy.”

Marlene laughs. “Yeah, maybe.”

“It sounds like she, Emma—” Dorcas swallows. “It sounds like she touched you without your consent?”

“No, it wasn’t as clear as that. I pretended like I enjoyed it.” Marlene laughs darkly. “I’m quite the actor.”

Dorcas’s face falls. “So when you said that you care that we broke up…”

“I’ve been a fucking mess. I can’t be near you without wanting to—ugh—wanting to love you.”

“Sounds like you did that regardless,” Dorcas says with a smirk. 

Marlene sits up on the bed, sliding so that the pillow braces her against the rickety headboard. She looks at the boring white sheets covering her legs, and then back to Dorcas. 

They’re so beautiful. It’s not new information but it’s still just as debilitating. Magnificent.

“You’re beautiful,” Dorcas repeats Marlene’s thoughts. 

“Liar,” Marlene teases. “I’m sure I look awful right now. I haven’t cried like this in years.”

“I’m not lying,” Dorcas says. 

“Always so candid.”

It’s meant to be teasing, but they both seem to remember the honesty Dorcas had dished Marlene that day. The truth she had let loose on whatever they had. 

“We didn’t break up because of you, Marlene,” Dorcas says simply. “We broke up because at the end of the summer I have to go back home.”

“And I’ll go to New York.”

“You want to do it, then?” Dorcas nudges her. “Start auditioning?”

Marlene grips the sheets. “I guess.” She turns to look at Dorcas’ face when she asks, “And you’re going to swim?”

“I guess.”

They both sink into the pillows, looking forward at the TV with a bouncing blue icon, the wallpaper behind it full of flowers and cracks.

“So that’s that then,” Marlene says into the silence. 

Dorcas takes Marlene’s hand and squeezes. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

Neither says what exactly they’re apologizing for:

For falling in love, or for walking away from it.