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To starry-eyed, twelve-year-old Anne, Sasha is the coolest person in the whole wide world.
Among themselves, she and Marcy still reminisce about when they first saw her on top of that slide all those years ago in the park, sweeping in to save them like some hero of legend - and they admire her charisma, her determination, the way she breezes through life like it’s nothing and the world was always meant to be laid down at her feet.
But what makes her the absolute coolest in Anne’s eyes is that she has two houses. Most people only have one, so Sasha has to be luckier than most - how else would she describe someone who has a house to live in during school days, and a separate home for the weekend?
Sasha invites them home after school a lot, but this is the first time she’s taken them to her weekend home. She shows them around this giant, empty house, and says it will be hers some day, that the three of them could live in it - it’s more than fit for three, after all, and this place is too quiet for its own good.
So they turn up the music - Sasha’s mom never allowed her to do that when Anne and Marcy were over, but her dad probably doesn’t mind as much, or if he does, he’s not here to say anything about it. Sasha tells them he’s away for work, and they have the whole house to themselves, and so they dance, dance, and dance the night away.
By the end of the day, party cups are strewn around Sasha’s room, several games have been played, including the weird new RPG stuff Marcy’s trying to get them into, and Anne is exhausted. Marcy is already dozing off on her shoulder as Anne grabs her phone from the bedside table and tries to call home, but Sasha, who’s still on her feet, takes the phone away and eggs the two on.
“C’mon, there’s still so much we can do,” Sasha insists, going through her dvds. “We can watch a movie, how about that, Marce, what was that movie you wanted us to watch-”
“Sasha, we’re tired.” Anne rubs her forehead, pinches the bridge of her nose, tries to blink the sleep away. “Besides, won’t your dad be coming home soon?”
There’s a glint in Sasha’s eyes when she turns back to them, and it looks nothing like the spark she carries with her everywhere. She’s always been a wildfire, but her fire has kept Anne and Marcy warm. This feels dangerous. This will burn them if they get too close.
“I don’t get it. We had a fun time, didn’t we?”
Anne feels Marcy stiffening at her side, and she freezes up as well. “Of course, Sash.”
“Then why are you just jumping at the chance to leave? I invited you here, and planned this whole day for us, and it feels like you just can’t wait to get rid of me.”
Anne’s glad Marcy’s the one to speak up. Sasha listens to her more, possibly because she tends to make more sense. When she talks to Sasha, she knows to be practical. “That’s not it at all. But my parents will be worried if I don’t get home soon.”
But tonight, Sasha doesn’t seem to want logical. She wants to draw blood.
“Of course. It’s always the parents.” She drops the dvds back in a chest at the foot of her bed, and closes it with a final, horrible thud. “You guys can be so uncool sometimes. Makes me wonder why we’re still friends.”
Anne doesn’t know how to reply to that. She doesn’t even have a good answer for why they’re friends, that she could whip out to surprise Sasha with and make her rethink this fight. She and Sasha and Marcy - they just are, and there’s never been a reason behind it.
But that’s not what Sasha wants to hear, and so she keeps quiet. She and Marcy watch as Sasha runs out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
When Marcy comes home from college, Sasha and Anne aren't speaking - or rather, Anne is refusing to speak, and Sasha is sneaking worried glances at her every once in a while and asking her questions that find no answer.
It's not out of the ordinary for Anne and Sasha to have a fight, and the one they had yesterday was a pretty bad one, too, that they’re all still reeling from; but surely, if Marcy is the one to try to talk to Anne, she will tell her what's going on and they can find a way to fix it, together.
She sits next to Anne by the kitchen counter as Sasha gets to cleaning the rest of the house - which is also something she never does, and perhaps her way of apologizing - and Anne only turns the other way.
“Anne? Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah. Just tired,” she says, which Marcy should count as a victory in itself. But something’s not right in her voice, in the way she refuses to look at either of them, the way her hands are gripping her cup of tea.
“Are you… mad at us?”
“No, I’m not mad. I just want to be left alone.”
“Well, okay? But I’m starving and this is where the food is, so - you might want to go to your room?” She lays a hand on Anne’s shoulder in what she hopes comes across as a comforting gesture. Anne shakes it off immediately. “We’ll still be here if you need-”
“I know you will.”
That’s when Sasha gets fed up and throws in the towel - literally. She dumps it in the sink and turns on her. “Anne, if you’ve got something to say, just say it. If you don't talk to us, we can’t know how to help.”
“Is this about what happened yesterday?” Marcy pushes.
Anne sighs. “It’s about everything. I don’t know, I guess - what happened yesterday brought some things back, but I already forgave you for all of it, okay? So I have no right to hold it against you - that’s not fair to you. It’s just hard, sometimes.”
It’s hard to love you, is what Marcy hears. And the worst thing is that she can’t even blame Anne for it - no one else would have forgiven as much as she has. Marcy’s always been afraid of coming home one day to find Anne gone, or Anne wanting both of them to leave - she just wasn’t expecting it to be today.
Yesterday was bad, but it wasn’t the worst fight they’ve ever had, and still - it makes sense that for Anne, it would all eventually be too much.
Marcy chokes back her tears - This isn’t about you, this isn’t about you - and steels herself. “You don’t have to force yourself to forgive us. If anything we’ve done was too much for you-”
“I want to forgive you.” Anne finally looks at them, and Marcy knows, she knows she’s telling the truth. There’s no mistaking that kind of resolve, the way she’s speaking from the heart. “It’s a choice I make every day, because if I didn’t make it, I wouldn’t have you in my life. And I love you too much for that.”
“Stop making yourself uncomfortable for us.” Sasha pulls out a chair and sits down next to Anne, careful not to touch her. She looks as raw as Marcy herself feels. “We’d never ask that of you - that’s the last thing we want.”
And Marcy wants to hug her, to hug them both; to apologize once again for what she’s done, and beg for their forgiveness, but she can’t. She has to give Anne space, and trust that she’ll make it back to them in the end. So she nods.
“Whatever you need, Anne. Time, or space, or - if you decide you never want to see us again, that’s fine too. We’ll be here if you ever want to come back. You will never lose us - not if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t want to. I never will.” Anne’s gaze softens then, and though it’s still pained, Marcy feels like she can breathe again. There’s still love there - there will always be love there. “I just want you to stay close by while I sort through this. I’ll come back to you.”
“We know, Anne.” That’s what they do, after all. They come back to each other. “You always do.”
Marcy is not answering. Again.
Calling her on the phone is usually fruitless, since she's always too caught up in some new videogame to pick up - but she's always been a fun, energetic texter, though Anne and Sasha have to wait a while for her replies. When they do come, they’re usually full of character or story tidbits she and Anne never asked for, but are always glad to read, if only because it helps them feel closer to Marcy - but the last meme Sasha sent in the group chat has been sitting there for three days now, and Marcy has seen it, she knows she has - maybe she just forgot to reply, like she forgot a lot of things today.
Sasha’s still looking down at her screen when she sees that Marcy is online, and she dares to press the call button.
“-ashy, hey, can you call back in like, one hour, if I don’t finish this project by tonight-”
“Is everything okay, Marcy?” Sasha cuts her off, because she’s going to get these words in if it kills her. “You haven’t texted in a while.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve just been very busy with school and my parents expect a lot out of me, so-”
“You couldn’t find the time to send a text? You’ve looked at your phone today, right?” Sasha knows for a fact that Marcy messes with it all the time.
Marcy is quiet for a while. “Yes. I saw the memes. I’m sorry, I just - didn’t really know what to reply. Just lol felt kinda dumb.”
“You could reply with something of your own. Like, what’s this project you need to do? You didn’t tell us anything about it.”
“I didn’t think you cared. I didn’t want to - bother you, with my ramblings, and besides, I’ve been really, really busy, but once this thing’s over, I swear-”
“Marcy,” Sasha interrupts her yet again. “It was Anne’s birthday yesterday.”
Silence on the other line, followed by a sound of frantic rustling paper. “What? No. Anne’s birthday is on Wednesday.”
“It’s Thursday.”
Marcy’s breath hitches. It might have been simple surprise, or she might’ve been crying. A few years ago, Sasha thinks she would’ve been able to tell. “Oh. Oh, no, Sash-”
“Her sweet 16, too.” She doesn’t know why she’s trying to dig the knife deeper. It’s not helping anyone, but it’s still what she’s best at. “You said a few weeks ago that you couldn’t come down here, but she was looking forward to hearing from you, at least.”
“I’m going to fix it,” Marcy swore. “Give me a few hours, I’ll - I’ll call her. I’ll send her a gift, I’ll get on to it immediately.”
She closes the call before Sasha can reassure her that it’s okay, they know she’s very busy, and truth be told they are too, so they don’t need much - one text a week, if they can’t remember to do it more often. One text a month.
Eventually, one text a year would have to suffice.
The three of them aren’t unfamiliar with the anxiety that keeps you up at night the day before a big trip, and the night before leaving Amphibia is no exception.
Of course, Anne and Sasha don’t know they won’t be leaving quite yet - not if they don’t want to. Marcy, for one, is looking forward to the new worlds King Andrias promised to show her, and is hoping her friends will come along for the ride, too. She just wants to keep them a little while longer.
For the first time since coming to Amphibia, she thinks that’s a shared sentiment. The moon is high in the sky by now, and even the crickets have stopped singing and gone to sleep, and yet here they still are, in front of the Sundew pension where they meant to drop Sasha off about an hour ago, talking and laughing and holding each other’s hands like they’ll never get a chance to again. For all Marcy knows, that might just be true. She’s not going to bed until she absolutely has to.
She’s already had her turn hugging Sasha goodnight, and Anne is taking her sweet time now. She’s pretty sure Anne and Sasha are both crying - Anne’s eyes shining with tears under the dim light, most of Sasha’s stage make-up smeared on her cheeks.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Anne is saying into her shoulder, “and that we patched things up.”
Sasha is shaking her head, but she’s holding Anne impossibly close, her sniffs echoing loud in the quiet of the night. “I just joined you on stage.”
“For my song,” Anne reminds her, and the little giddy laugh that follows ranks as the top reason Marcy can’t ever regret what she’s done if it’s brought them here. “That meant a lot to me. Thank you.”
“I had so much fun.” That’s when Sasha pulls back from the hug to look at Anne and Marcy in turn. But she stops just shy of their eyes, and blinks away the oncoming tears like she’s been staring at the sun for too long. “I missed you guys. I-”
“Sash, are you okay?” Marcy steps up, touches her cheek.
“Yeah. I’m sorry.”
Anne just pulls her into another hug - a more gentle one this time, as if she was afraid Sasha was going to break. When she speaks, Anne’s voice has dropped to a whisper, and to Marcy it should be calming, so calming, to have Anne brush her fingers through her hair and say: “Don’t apologize. It was a long day. What matters is that we’re together at the end of it, right?”
But Sasha is fully crying into Anne’s arms now, and when Marcy joins them she cries into Marcy’s, too; says I’m sorry like she’s trying to make up for Marcy’s sins, too.
“Anne?! Is that you?”
She hears quick steps falling in behind her and then feels a pair of arms around her middle, squeezing her tight. Even before the other girl starts talking her ear off about how she can’t believe this and this is such a coincidence, Anne recognizes the kind of warm, easy comfort of childhood sleepovers, and knows who this is.
“Marcy?” she hazards a guess, and only then she looks. Her best friend’s eyes are sparkling with glee - and they haven’t technically been best friends for years, because it’s been years since they’ve last talked, but Anne believes you never really stop being someone’s best friend, anyway. Her hair is shoulder-length now, and she seems to have put on some weight, but other than that, she looks exactly the same. Exactly like her Marcy. “What are you doing here?”
“The birthday girl’s in my C&C group.”
And Anne smiles, because of such coincidences life is made. “No way. I’m roommates with her sister.”
“Do you need me to show you around? I can’t believe you’ve never been to one of our C&C nights. You can totally join our next campaign if you want.”
“And I can’t believe we’re at a college party, and you’re the one showing me around.”
“Oh, haha. Yeah, I guess that’s new.” She doesn’t wait for Anne’s answer - she just grabs her hand and leads her through the sea of people dancing in the living room. The music is so loud Marcy has to shout to be heard, and then the words take Anne aback, too: “How’s Sasha? Have you heard from her lately?”
Anne almost expects it to hurt, but it doesn’t. It’s just been a really long time since someone last mentioned Sasha to her. “No, not in the last two years or something.”
“We should call her. Ask her how she’s doing. Ohh, I love this song - wait, Anna Banana, dance with me.”
She stops in her tracks in the middle of the room, causing Anne to collide with her. Without missing a beat, Marcy turns around to hold her steady, and keeps one arm locked around her waist.
Anne feels weirdly warm under her skin.
“Thought you were gonna show me around?” she quips, as though Marcy isn’t way too close to her face and it’s not turning her into a blubbering mess. “Going back on your word already, MarMar?”
Marcy’s smirk is fleeting as she pulls Anne into a dance, swerving them right into the thick of the crowd. “You fool. I need music to speedrun this thing. Come on.”
“Do you believe in reincarnation?” Sasha says one night, entirely out of the blue. When Anne turns on her side to look at her, though, her eyebrows are pinched together, and it’s clear she’s been thinking of this for a while.
“What do you mean?”
“Like, is that part of your belief system, I guess.”
Their sleepovers always get pretty deep after dark - it’s time Anne and Sasha make for themselves, to deal with memories and regret and leftover emotional baggage. This, however, is a topic that has never been broached.
“I don’t know that I have a strict belief system,” Anne muses. “I think my parents do, but I couldn’t tell you exactly what it is. I haven’t been to the Thai temple in a long time.”
“But reincarnation is a thing in Thai culture, right?”
“Cycle of death and rebirth, yeah. You keep getting reincarnated until you find a way out, but it’s supposed to be painstaking. You come back again and again because you can’t accept that everything has to end.”
“Right, yeah. That’s what I remembered.” Sasha sounds almost bitter about it, but Anne can’t be sure - Sasha’s hiding her face in the pillow, and besides, there isn’t nearly enough light coming in through the window to make out more than her outline. “You’re supposed to find peace in impermanence, let go of earthly attachments, and all that.”
“That’s the idea.”
She makes a frustrated noise that comes way too close to a growl. “I don’t know. Is it that wrong to want to hold on to something forever? I wouldn’t mind living a thousand more lives if I get to spend them all with the two of you.”
“What, like soulmates?”
Anne says it jokingly, hoping it will make Sasha laugh and scoff and swat at her; but Sasha is serious as can be when she says: “Yeah,” and watery-fragile too. “I just think fate, or karma, whatever you want to call it, cheated us out of this one.”
She doesn’t need to ask. There’s an empty space in her bed and unfilled space in her room, and all she and Sasha ever do is pretend not to see it.
“I don’t think it did,” she whispers, and she scoots closer to Sasha, takes her into her arms so she can curl up against her chest. Sasha melts into her immediately, gripping her shirt so hard Anne’s expecting to find it torn in the morning. “We’ve been in each other’s lives for years. Some people barely get a few months.”
Sasha raises her head at once, alarmed. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”
“No, it’s fine, I know what you were saying. What I mean is, people touch our lives in all sorts of ways, and for all lengths of time - and they stay with us in different ways, too. None of it is any less worthwhile just because it didn’t last.”
She waits for Sasha to settle back in, and holds her tighter as she does, because Anne needs this, too.
“I think about the Plantars all the time, you know. But even if I can’t see them again, they’re in me. In the person I am today. I feel Sprig and Polly and Hop Pop every time I remember to help my parents around the house, or put any thought into my future, or when I stand up to bullies at school - just like I feel you and Marcy in these letters you engraved,” and she touches the bedpost to trace them, to check that yes, they are still indeed there, “and in our scars, and in every other mark Amphibia has left on us. There’s nothing sad about that.”
One of her hands is going through Sasha’s hair, up to the roots and down to the shoulders - and Sasha’s grumbling, sighing: “Yeah. Maybe.”
“I think that’s what accepting change is all about. It’s not nihilistic - it’s hopeful. Everything changes, but it doesn’t have to die. It all flows into us, and you, me and Marcy - we flow into each other. We don’t need another life, because no matter where we are, we’ll always be together in this one.”
She slides a little too far down Sasha’s back, and ends up touching the tip of her scar - the one Marcy caused, the one only she is allowed to touch. Anne pulls back her hand immediately, but the damage has already been done - the dam has broken, and Sasha sobs into the silence: “I just miss her sometimes.”
She lets Sasha cry for as long as she needs, offering all the comfort she can. But despite all of her words, she’d be lying if she said this doesn’t get to her at times, as well. “I miss her too. But it’s only a few years until we turn eighteen, you know. And then Marcy can come live with us in some big old house and never leave our side again.”
Sasha's exhale is wet and broken and tired, but Anne feels the start of a smile pressed against her skin, too. “I can’t wait.”
They find Sasha sitting on the couch, arms and legs crossed, eyes peering at the light coming from the tv in the dark living room. She pretends not to notice when they walk in hand in hand, Anne dragging Marcy behind her - but when they sit down on each side of her, she doesn’t stop them. She doesn’t really want to.
“We’re sorry, Sashy,” Marcy says, and it’s cute, how she clings to Sasha and buries her head in Sasha’s neck. Sasha can’t stay mad at her when she does it; she’s pretty sure Anne can’t either.
“We do have to go home, but we’re gonna stay with you until your dad comes back,” Anne decides, and lays her head on Sasha’s other shoulder.
She and Marcy are quiet again now, their attention focused on the tv screen - like it’s this stupid movie Sasha needed and not them, with her, for as long as they’d let her.
“I’m sorry too,” she says under her breath before taking both of their hands in hers, and she doesn’t know what it is that turns their head - the apology, or her touch. She can’t help any of it, can’t help how they make her want to be better - how she needs them so much more than they need her, and she can never let them find out. “I don’t want you to be tired. You should get some sleep while you wait.”
“Really?” Anne pipes up, the word closing on a yawn.
“Yeah. Take a nap. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to go.” She ruffles Marcy’s hair as she says it, overcome with the sudden need to take care of them, to protect them, to be everything they need. “Want me to turn the volume down?”
“Nu-uh.” Marcy is settling into her, looking perfectly comfortable. “Need background noise to sleep.”
“Love you, Sash,” Anne mutters on her other side - and though it’s slurred and drowsy, Sasha hears it clear as day, lets it seep through her.
She lets go of both of their hands and instead wraps her arms around them, tightening as she feels them slip deeper into sleep. “My girls. I love you too.”